the pupil in denial

- august mayne - nineteen - district ten -

[cg-syren]

Syren gazed longingly through the polished glass of the tribute train, the landscape speeding by to the eerie silence of her current habitat. Another day, another prison. She looked out at a world left untouched, forgotten; and far more beautiful for it. She stared for a for more mere moments before setting herself to the situation at hand. Rising with purpose she swiftly turned to face another tribute whom had, unfortunately for them, stumbled into her den. 

“Lost, are we?” she mused with a wry smile.

[augustmayne]

August was lost, not quite having figured out the configuration of the train. It seemed to switch up on her every time she walked through, though she wasn’t sure how they managed to do that. The Capitol could do anything, though, so it wasn’t too surprising.

Startled by the other tribute despite having seen her first, a small yelp escaped August’s lips as she was addressed. “I’m real sorry, I’m not trying to bother. I’m just trying to find the supper car.” Something about the other tribute made August immediately nervous, her hands unconsciously smoothing out her dress. “Do you, um, know where the supper car is?”

[augustmayne]

zephyrsteele​:

Howdy? Zephyr couldn’t help but turn to look at who he was speaking to after that, quirking an eyebrow as he inspected the girl with mild bemusement. He opened his mouth, intending to perhaps say something amusing or berate her in some way, but all that came out was a breath of laughter that he quickly disguised as a cough.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, August like the month.” He said after a few measured breaths. He made an effort to straighten his shoulders and arrange his face in what he hoped was a more serious expression.

“Not only do I know every room on the train, but I also know every secret.” He pressed his lips together for a moment before motioning to the bar behind him.

“Would you like a drink of some sort?”

Zephyr turned to face her, and August was glad to see that he wasn’t all that ugly. Not that there was anything wrong with ugly people. In fact, ugly people were usually very nice. “I’m real glad to meet you, too. I haven’t gotten ‘round to talking to lots of people yet, and I suppose we should all get to know each other if we’re gonna be in close quarters.”

The thought of there being secrets on the train hadn’t crossed her mind, but she supposed the Capitol must have a whole slew of secrets since she didn’t know all that much about them. She wasn’t very often in on any secrets.

August glanced nervously at the bar, and then back to Zephyr. “I, um. I don’t really know much about drinks. I didn’t drink back home, besides water and the like.” She knew he didn’t mean water, but she was very interested in Zephyr’s train secrets, so she nodded. “What do you like to drink?”

[augustmayne]

dahliasol​:

She’d been in this position many times before -- perhaps more times than her fragmented memory would allow her to recall. She’d often sat alone, inebriated on some substance or another, pondering the inevitability of her demise. Dahlia knew she’d die early, but had never even entertained the possibility of her current circumstances.

The silence between her and her new avox friend was broken my the entrance of another -- a fellow tribute from what the girl from Six could surmise.

“Salutations,” she responded, raising her glass to the girl. “I was born here, darling. Seventh of June, right here in this car.” A grin, followed by a swig of her drink. “Dahlia Sol. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

_

“Congratulations to you, too,” August said with a smile.

Looking around the car, August wondered where any lady could have a baby. The room seemed far too nice for that sort of thing. She had seen some ladies give birth, and dozens more lady animals, and the process was always messy. Especially with cows.

Quickly taking the chair next to Dahlia, August nodded. “I’m real happy to meet you, too. My name’s August, like the month. That’s the month I was born too, so our birthdays aren’t too far apart. Just two months.”

[augustmayne]

August wasn’t all that sure what the Capitol wanted her to do upon her arrival on the train, so she sat in her district’s common area and stared out the window, her hands folded in her lap. After some time spent watching the fields pass by until the terrain was unrecognizable, she built up the courage to explore the rest of the train.

A few cars down, a door was left partially ajar. August peered in and found what appeared to be a bar, occupied by another tribute and an avox. She watched the stranger sat on one of the stools as she hesitantly entered the room. “Hi there,” she offered after a few silent moments, waving her hand in front of herself once and laughing nervously. “Have you been on the train long?”

[augustmayne]

zephyrsteele​:

Zephyr smirked at the sound of the tributes voice, not bothering to turn around and face her. His hands moved over the glass he held, her brow furrowed as he concentrated on tracing the outer rim.

“Hello,” he murmured after a substantial silence had filled the room, “my name is Zephyr.”

He took a swig of his drink, stretching out each moment for as long as he possibly could before he spoke again.

“I’ve been here for a while.” Another pause. “You know, my father built this train.”

August stood with her hands together, waiting for the tribute to respond. She didn’t notice that she was holding her breath until he spoke. “Howdy Zephyr! My name’s August, like the month.”

Zephyr didn’t turn around to face her, which was uncomfortable until August had the thought that maybe he was shy. Or maybe ugly and embarrassed about it. Either way she supposed she would just have to be real nice to him.

August looked around the room, then back to the back of Zephyr’s head, her mouth slightly ajar. “Did he really build the whole train? You must’ve been here for a while then. You must even know every room on the train.”

[augustmayne]

August wasn’t all that sure what the Capitol wanted her to do upon her arrival on the train, so she sat in her district’s common area and stared out the window, her hands folded in her lap. After some time spent watching the fields pass by until the terrain was unrecognizable, she built up the courage to explore the rest of the train.

A few cars down, a door was left partially ajar. August peered in and found what appeared to be a bar, occupied by another tribute and an avox. She watched the stranger sat on one of the stools as she hesitantly entered the room. “Hi there,” she offered after a few silent moments, waving her hand in front of herself once and laughing nervously. “Have you been on the train long?”

[artfulfashion]

Odeya Rush photographed by Michael Bailey Gates for Vogue US, November 2019

[capitolgames]

YOUR CAPITOL SALUTES YOU, AUGUST MAYNE OF DISTRICT TEN.

August is what many might describe as a few eggs short of a dozen, but she couldn’t tell you what they’d mean by that. Her four pet chickens meant that she almost always had at least a dozen eggs, unless her family had friends over who wanted eggs for breakfast. Or if she decided to bake a cake on a whim. Or if she sold some of her eggs in town. Or if she dropped a few of them while she was carrying them in from the coop. Other than that she always has more than a dozen eggs.

ODEYA RUSH. NINETEEN. SHE/HER. TAKEN.