His eyelids fluttered open as a yawn escaped his mouth, a slow stretching routine pursuing afterwards. Regretting the decision to ever open his eyes and awake from his dreams, the man sat up in bed for a few minutes in reflection. Today was the first official day of training, which sadly, meant that his little runts would be running off to peruse the training area. How cute. It was almost saddening that they were going to die regardless, but then again, they brought it upon themselves. Besides, Cyrus had no feeling for them, nor did their families, apparently.Â
Rolling his eyes, he slid from the bed and made his way around the room as he readied himself to face the mind-numbing day ahead. Finally inching out of his room, the man met the table outside covered in various quantities of fruits and breakfast mixes. Going in to pick up an apple, most likely one harvest from his own District, Cyrus’ eyes instead met the piece of parchment neatly laid beside the centerpiece. On it read his name. However, this letter wasn’t one from President Snow. This was a letter from someone else.
Opening it, his cold eyes met the disillusioned writing of the poor girl from District Twelve. Beside himself with scorn, Cyrus couldn’t help but chuckle as he read her note. Now this was cute. Eileen Clover, was it? “Well Eileen, if it’s friends you want then I will most certainly oblige.” Cyrus sates softly to himself, a sly smile plastered upon his lips. Resolving a cruel game for himself to make with the woman, he snatched the apple from the table and soon found himself heading inside of the mentor’s lounge.Â
There his arctic blue eyes met the girl passively sitting alone, her hands nimbly brushing over a mug in probably hopes of making it more heart-felt. How pathetic. Pulling on his best caring face, he sat in front of her, spinning the chair around backwards and straddling it before finally sitting down. At first, his gaze met hers and his pout slowly became a faux comforting smile. Finally finding the words to begin with, Cyrus let his words slide out carefully in order to avoiding hurting the girl from the start. “I got your note, Ms. Clover.” he commented, his voice soft and caring. “You sound, dare I say it, lonely.” The man put, his voice turning to a questioning tone. Continuing on, he let his thoughts finish out. “So I came to introduce myself. Cyrus Alderate, Victor of the 60th Hunger Games and District Eleven’s replacement mentor these games. Pleasure to be in your presence, my dear.” He concluded, extending his hand to her, then slowly taking a bite from his apple. Â
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