( alisha wainwright | twenty-eight | cis woman | she / her ) oh darling, did you see? that’s enobaria mcclave, a victor from district two! they won the sixty-second annual hunger games at just eighteen years old, i remember it being quite the event. i did see on their latest magazine article that they’re devoted, impulsive, and resourceful, and that they are not mentoring this year. honestly, they remind me of blood on white snow, dresses the color of red wine, close-lipped smiles, and the feeling of looking someone in the eyes and knowing what they’ve done. what the public doesn’t know is that they’re not a part of plutarch heavensbee’s rebellion, but such things can’t be said out loud.
Her gaze followed Enobaria's back down to the Training stations. Satina had been at the survival station, learning how to start a fire it seemed like. Taylor was at one of the weapons stations, slashing a knife through the air at an invisible target. His movements were a little faulty, but he seemed to be doing alright none the less. It didn't serve them to compare their capabilities to the Tributes from Two, but Cecelia couldn't help but notice how efficient their Tributes were. Hard for her to forget how close she had been to dying in her own Games to the Career Tributes as well.
Cecelia's shoulders fell and she shook her head, "I know, and I don't think a new stylist is going to fix that after all these years. Did you see Nine's outfits, too? I feel bad for those kids." Yes, Eight definitely could have been worse: they could have been dressed up like bread. "Last thing they need is people laughing at them when they're fighting for their lives."
“i know,” enobaria said. “i feel for the poor things, i really do. hard to recover from that.” she kept one eye on the tributes, who seemed to be going through training with the attitude that the more deadly weapons they got to use, the better. enobaria couldn't blame them — there wasn't an instructor keeping an eye on them, the way there had been in the academy, and she remembered being in their position; had spent half the allotted training time intimidating the outlying tributes and the other half bickering with ruby.
“honestly, if i'd shown up ten years ago, and my stylist had tried to put me in a bread costume, i'd've killed them on the spot.” there's a twist to her mouth as she says it, something that's almost a smile and almost a smirk and somehow not exactly either.
“your girl seems nice, though,” enobaria offered. “heard she caught the eye of some sponsors, too.”
"You were like them once," he reminded her, as he finished up his daily notes about Rufus and Diana. Rufus was too loud, too confident... no matter that Amadeus told him to remember his competition, the boy didn't listen. Diana was different, she had a chance, he thought. Maybe, he would be able to put another name next to Enobaria's for tributes he had helped survive.
"All right, not like them and yes, other than the same district you are different but..." He sighed. She wasn't mentoring, and he had to respect that decision. While he had been the mentor since the year following his own games, and there was never a year he had taken off - never a time when he allowed someone else to come in to look after the children whose names had been chosen. He tsked softly as he set another paper to the side. Diana's pile growing with sponsors, he'd have to do more work for Rufus.
"I wish parents would name their children something marketable - Rufus sounds like a demented dog..." he grumbled, briefly distracted from his fellow victor, only for his attention to move back to her. "Bless you for having a good name, and for surviving," he said as he lifted his glass of water to her in toast. He always praised her for surviving at every greeting and goodbye.
enobaria laughed slightly under her breath at amadeus's comments. “i do my best,” she murmured, inclining her head slightly in agreement at his comment about rufus's name. it did sound like a dog; she had to give him that. it didn't help that rufus seemed to be the weaker link of their two tributes, from what she'd heard.
“at least diana is a workable name,” she added. “and she seems... she seems like she's got a chance, at least.” fuck, she hoped diana had a chance. district two hadn't won since her own victory ten years ago, and she was tired of being two's shiny new victor in the eyes of the capitol. let someone else have a turn.
a smile crossed her face as he thanked her for surviving. it was something she never grew tired of, no matter how many years it had been since her victory. it was easy to forget, sometimes, with all the things that had happened since, that her survival had been a good thing. that winning had been worth it. amadeus had never, ever made her feel like winning was a mistake.
“besides, it could always be worse,” she added, with a smile painted across her face. “one of my brothers was almost named scipio. what do you even... do with that?”
you are the black queen. the queen is the most powerful piece on the board, meaning you are strong in some aspect of your life. physically, emotionally, mentally, one of these is your strong suit. the queen can move anywhere she wishes upon the board, meaning you have your hands full with all the different tasks and choices in your life. being the black piece means you work more behind the scenes, working to make sure someone else's plans succeed, or pushing your own agenda. just be careful who you trust, for all your cunning and beauty, there are reasons why queens were beheaded.
vii. are you a soldier, a poet, or a king? - a soldier.
“there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword / he will tear your city down” righteousness. strength. violence. you see a door and break through it. you wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. remember : love is passion too. you made your own rules and will follow them to death. you try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "fight". you are tired of fighting. you try to forget that, too, and keep going. you dream of quiet. your love is where you heal. god knows you deserve to. (really. you deserve to.)
viii. what’s your literary archetype? - the siren.
this archetype is one of the most misunderstood and misrepresented in my opinion, which i assume fits with you nicely. people see you as some cold and awful person, seducing others only to discard them when you get bored. in reality, you probably didn’t have a lot of control over your life before, did you? this is the same case as the ruler, both lacking in power and autonomy. the difference between you and the ruler, however, is that you only care about reclaiming that power for yourself. you also seek the feeling of being wanted, truly and wholly, and this quest seems never ending. try your best to avoid putting yourself into horrible situations just for a brief moment of respite from the loneliness.
iv. which dungeons and dragons class suits your personality? - champion fighter.
you’re a practical and determined person who goes after what you want. you’re very competitive and may be a bit of a perfectionist, always challenging yourself to do better. you’re not an especially flashy person and you don’t care about status or luxury unless it’s something you’ve earned. you’re grounded and focused on the real world, more concerned with what is than with what could be. the archetypal champion focuses on the development of raw physical power honed to deadly perfection. those who model themselves on this archetype combine rigorous training with physical excellence to deal devastating blows. you're a strong and determined person who cares a lot about self- improvement. you want to be the best version of yourself and you're willing to do whatever it takes to get there. you're very resilient and it takes a lot to keep you down for long. at times you might be a little impulsive, planning is not necessarily your strong suit. you're very straightforward, sometimes to the point of bluntness, and you feel that the most direct path is usually the best path.
v. what animal form would your daemon take? - norwegian forest cat.
your daemon would take the form of a norwegian forest cat! you are a confident and hardy individual who has a strong work ethic. more so than others with cat daemons, those with norwegian forest cats are bold and intimidating people, most focused on achievement and uninterested in social conventions. they are adamant and stubborn, often independent people who don't follow others. when deciding on your daemon's appearance, consider the pattern of your daemon's coat. a white coat typically indicates someone innocent and good-hearted, a black coat someone private and withdrawn, and an orange coat someone with fiery feelings. the more colors your daemon has, the more flamboyant and emotional the individual; calicos wear their heart on their sleeve, and tortoiseshells have intense emotional depths.
Her eyes closed for a brief moment and she gave a small nod at the correction, "Right." The viewing room was for Mentors, so she had just assumed Enobaria had been one of them for Two. But she wasn't going to tattle to a Peacekeeper about it. "Makes sense. Either way, compliment still stands." The Career Tributes usually always looked fierce, the stylists for those Districts knew what they were doing with those kids.
An amused smile spread across her face, "I'd be surprised if they didn't. Pretty sure the stylist was trying to get their hands on every type of fabric in every bright color known in existence." She chuckled, giving a small shake of her head. Eight's outfits tended to get more on the bold side solely because they dealt with textiles, and apparently, that was an unspoken rule to just use all of them in all the brightest colors possible. "Could have been worse, I suppose."
enobaria smiled, inclining her head at cecelia to acknowledge what the other woman had said. she didn't bother telling cecelia that how to act at the parade was part of the training two's tributes received, and being two's stylist was a coveted position, and their stylists were usually eager to prove that they were worthy of the position. it was rare for two's kids to have a bad year. enobaria didn't say any of this aloud — cecelia was just trying to be nice.
“it definitely could have been worse,” enobaria said, keeping one eye on the kids in training — diana and the girl from one were over at the knife throwing station, hurling knives into tribute-sized targets, and rufus was at the javelin throwing station, throwing javelins into the throats of targets. eight's kids had been a blur of bright color on their chariot, but a blur of bright color was always better than boring, at least in terms of getting sponsors. “seven was trees again this year. their stylist must have it in for them.”
"I don't know how the others do it. Or continue to do it." Siren nodded, relieved that the woman wasn't forcing her back out there. All she wanted was to give her tributes a fighting chance. It was why she became a mentor, though having to live with the reality that they more than likely would not be coming back - was a hard one to have to face. Nobody prepared you for the aftermath of the games if you did survive, and that was something Siren herself was still trying to navigate.
Siren's eyes widened at her comment, only out of concern that someone other than the two of them heard it. She glanced around trying to ensure that there had been no hidden cameras around. Looking back over at Enobaria - she shook her head. "Like we're trapped in the arena forever," she said after a moment.
enobaria sighed, long and heavy. “you'll get used to it,” she said. she wasn't lying. “you'll learn how to cope.” or you won't, enobaria added, to herself. there were plenty of victors who never learned to cope, or who were trying so desperately to cope that they fell apart. siren was one of four's, though — mags was good at steering her victors when she had to be. siren would be okay.
enobaria nodded. “the arena stays with you,” enobaria said, somberly. she'd won nearly a decade ago, but almost every night she woke up gasping from another nightmare about what she'd done in the arena, about what she'd seen, when the lynx mutt had come after the career pack. the sight of red blood on white still made her heart skip a beat, and she had to force herself to relax whenever a capitolite decided to bring one of their pet cats to a party. “people who didn't win don't understand what it's like in there.” she exhaled slowly, trying to focus on breathing rather than continuing to gnaw the inside of her cheek.
She shook her head and offered up a white lie, “My goal wasn’t to drag you out of her if you don’t want to leave. You have every right to do whatever you want to do, and it isn’t like its your job to mingle around.” Of course, this was only half true. Scarlet would much rather be noticed talking to Enobaria, but she couldn’t force anyone to do anything against their will, nor did she want to. “No offense, you look like hell. So, I don’t blame you if you want to stay in your little hole. Then again, most of the Tributes, also, look like hell, so I doubt anyone would notice.”
Scarlet tucked her hands into the pockets of her dress and shrugged a little at Enobaria. Scarlet thought for a moment, considering if she should approach the other woman and sit down next to her or stand awkwardly in the doorway. Scarlet deduced that attempted to sit down was the less embarrassing option and made herself comfortable. “Do you want me to get you a drink or give you a run down on the fashion horror show I was forcibly subjected to? Unless you want to subject yourself to that shit.”
enobaria sighed. scarlet was lying, of course — the whole job of a victor at these events — even one who wasn't mentoring — was to mingle. but she appreciated the effort. “what a nice thing to say to a girl,” enobaria said, dryly, sarcasm leeching from her tone. she didn't actually care — most victors looked like hell at various points, and her stylist had done her makeup in a way that she was fairly sure most capitolites wouldn't notice.
“honestly, i'd love to hear about the fashion horror show,” enobaria said with a bark of a laugh. she has no idea what scarlet means by fashion horror show, but she's desperate to know what she means. “i saw some truly atrocious looks on the way here. and then maybe we can go get a drink?” she offered. she knew scarlet was right, and she should probably go back out there and mingle.
he had watched her games, he knew what she did and was aware of the fact that her teeth had been sharpened. he had not seen them in person though but those in his former district had made her sound absolutely terrifying and the talk in the capitol was of affection and love for her. this was his first opportunity to really meet her in person though- his first chance to form his own true opinion on her. and he didn’t feel threatened for scared; maybe it was because of the empathy he had for the victors after his sister had won or maybe it was her general energy. but he didn’t mind her presence.
“you’re right about that, i barely remember the people i work next to let alone everyone else,” he joked. he had grown up in district four and most of those names had stuck with him, families, friends and even acquaintances. coming to the capitol and adjusting to everything was hard enough so he put learning names to the side. he then stuck out his hand to officially introduce himself. “seaton brooks.”
something in enobaria relaxed as he said he didn't remember everyone either — at least she didn't have to worry about him getting offended she'd forgotten his name and gunning for two's kids in the arena. granted, from their brief interaction, enobaria hadn't quite pegged him for the type, but you really never knew with capitolites.
enobaria reached out her hand and shook his. “enobaria mcclave,” she said, with a polite, close-lipped smile. “i won the sixty-second games. though generally people tend to remember that better than they remember my name. probably because of these,” she half-joked, giving him a full smile, with teeth. “without these, i'd be just as forgettable as all the rest of two's victors.” which is to say, not particularly forgettable, especially since they always got pushed into a million interviews and attending a dozen parties every time one of two's tributes joined their ranks. but capitolites liked it when victors were humble, or so brutus kept telling her.
he had watched her games, he knew what she did and was aware of the fact that her teeth had been sharpened. he had not seen them in person though but those in his former district had made her sound absolutely terrifying and the talk in the capitol was of affection and love for her. this was his first opportunity to really meet her in person though- his first chance to form his own true opinion on her. and he didn’t feel threatened for scared; maybe it was because of the empathy he had for the victors after his sister had won or maybe it was her general energy. but he didn’t mind her presence.
“you’re right about that, i barely remember the people i work next to let alone everyone else,” he joked. he had grown up in district four and most of those names had stuck with him, families, friends and even acquaintances. coming to the capitol and adjusting to everything was hard enough so he put learning names to the side. he then stuck out his hand to officially introduce himself. “seaton brooks.”
something in enobaria relaxed as he said he didn't remember everyone either — at least she didn't have to worry about him getting offended she'd forgotten his name and gunning for two's kids in the arena. granted, from their brief interaction, enobaria hadn't quite pegged him for the type, but you really never knew with capitolites.
enobaria reached out her hand and shook his. “enobaria mcclave,” she said, with a polite, close-lipped smile. “i won the sixty-second games. though generally people tend to remember that better than they remember my name. probably because of these,” she half-joked, giving him a full smile, with teeth. “without these, i'd be just as forgettable as all the rest of two's victors.” which is to say, not particularly forgettable, especially since they always got pushed into a million interviews and attending a dozen parties every time one of two's tributes joined their ranks. but capitolites liked it when victors were humble, or so brutus kept telling her.
District one would always be the capitol's favorite, at least in Gleam's mind anyways. At least most of the victors from her home district were crowd favorites, although she didn't consider herself one. The blonde had never exactly been pleasant with fans or attempted to show the best version of herself in front of the cameras. She wanted to be left alone. Attempt to enjoy the life of riches that the capitol promised the victors, without the entire nation watching her every move. However, that proved to be the furthest thing from the case.
In an attempt to find her brother, she moved to the back and opened a door. "Relax." Gleam scoffed with an eye roll. "I could care less about District Two's tributes, or talking with you about them. I'm looking for my brother."
“well, that makes you the first person i've talked to in an hour who doesn't give a shit about them,” enobaria said, with a wry smile. honestly, she was just happy to see a familiar face, and even happier that gleam didn't seem to want anything from her in this moment. enobaria swore the capitolites were worse before the games even started, at least as far as she was concerned. at least once the tributes were in the arena, there was something other than the victors for them to focus on.
“i haven't seen your brother,” she adds, half-apologetic. “maybe try one of the other storage closets?” she added, dryly, raising her eyebrows. she didn't particularly take offense to gleam's attitude, but she wasn't going to make an effort to be particularly nice to her if gleam wasn't going to try, either.
“Not every non-Career is fucked when they get into the arena. If I remember well, Johanna really did a number on the Careers in her games. Airtight strategy it is not. Just the most successful,” he spoke matter-of-factly. Vander didn’t think ill of anyone from a Career District. Just as he had no idea what it was like in their shoes, he assumed the same kindness towards them. If they were bootlicking sons-of-bitches, that was different. With her personality, Enobaria didn’t strike her as the type. And with that, he was more at ease with her than other Careers. And she wasn’t a mentor. The most she could do is bad-mouth and hope a sponsor listens. “Be careful, Enobaria, your Career Victor is showing. Might want to pull your head out of your own ass before I walk away from the conversation and leave you to the wolves, I mean the sponsors. Like flies on shit, they descent upon the famous Careers regardless of your current occupation. Be like Hunger Games Jr watching you get out from under them.”
As normal, Vander meant everything in jest. Life was too short to take anything too serious.
enobaria exhaled. “fair point,” she said. “we'll just have to wait and see how they do in the arena.” it was easy to forget, sometimes, that she was from a career district and had been raised watching old hunger games and dissecting every mistake a career tribute had made and viewing every outer district tribute as cannon fodder. the mindset was hard to break out of, even though she knew that the careers didn't win all of the time. most of the time, sure, but not all of the time. and she knew, of course, from personal experience, that you could study as much as you liked — no amount of studying would prepare you for what the arena was actually like.
enobaria smiled at his teasing threat. “please,” she huffed, overdramatically. “you want to go back out there just as much as i do. you're a mentor, so i'm sure tons of them are dying to talk to you,” she teased. vander was good company, as far as other victors went — they'd never really hung out outside of the games, but he'd never been nasty to her about her teeth or because she was a career, which was a win as far as enobaria was concerned.
the smile fell from her face. “how are things looking for you this year?” she asked, a more serious tone in her voice. she was pretty sure she'd been busy talking to a sponsor at that particular point in the parade, and since she wasn't a mentor, the only reaping she'd watched had been her own district's.
“Not every non-Career is fucked when they get into the arena. If I remember well, Johanna really did a number on the Careers in her games. Airtight strategy it is not. Just the most successful,” he spoke matter-of-factly. Vander didn’t think ill of anyone from a Career District. Just as he had no idea what it was like in their shoes, he assumed the same kindness towards them. If they were bootlicking sons-of-bitches, that was different. With her personality, Enobaria didn’t strike her as the type. And with that, he was more at ease with her than other Careers. And she wasn’t a mentor. The most she could do is bad-mouth and hope a sponsor listens. “Be careful, Enobaria, your Career Victor is showing. Might want to pull your head out of your own ass before I walk away from the conversation and leave you to the wolves, I mean the sponsors. Like flies on shit, they descent upon the famous Careers regardless of your current occupation. Be like Hunger Games Jr watching you get out from under them.”
As normal, Vander meant everything in jest. Life was too short to take anything too serious.
enobaria exhaled. “fair point,” she said. “we'll just have to wait and see how they do in the arena.” it was easy to forget, sometimes, that she was from a career district and had been raised watching old hunger games and dissecting every mistake a career tribute had made and viewing every outer district tribute as cannon fodder. the mindset was hard to break out of, even though she knew that the careers didn't win all of the time. most of the time, sure, but not all of the time. and she knew, of course, from personal experience, that you could study as much as you liked — no amount of studying would prepare you for what the arena was actually like.
enobaria smiled at his teasing threat. “please,” she huffed, overdramatically. “you want to go back out there just as much as i do. you're a mentor, so i'm sure tons of them are dying to talk to you,” she teased. vander was good company, as far as other victors went — they'd never really hung out outside of the games, but he'd never been nasty to her about her teeth or because she was a career, which was a win as far as enobaria was concerned.
the smile fell from her face. “how are things looking for you this year?” she asked, a more serious tone in her voice. she was pretty sure she'd been busy talking to a sponsor at that particular point in the parade, and since she wasn't a mentor, the only reaping she'd watched had been her own district's.
In her mind, Scarlet’s snuggling up the asses of more famous Victors was subtle. To everyone else, it was clear that she chased the clout like a dog with a bone. She hungered for more spotlight and attention. Being close to Victors like Enobaria allowed for her face to be in the press a little more often. Paid the bills and paid her ego.
Hoping to see famous Victors out in the wild was hard when said famous Victors were no where to be seen. It was a pity and Scarlet hoped that she could get Enobaria out for a bit. Partially to get to know the older woman better and partially to further her own celebrity status.
Scarlet let out a small sigh, “Not quite rich enough to be a sponsor, yet. You only use isn’t just sponsor and mentor inquiries. Just wanted to know how you were doing since I hadn’t really seen you around. Pardon me asking how you are.”
“hello, scarlet,” enobaria said, waving a hand in half-greeting. she knew what scarlet was doing; she couldn't even bring herself to resent the younger victor. shit, she'd probably be doing it too if she wasn't from two. she could hardly resent anyone for doing their damned best to keep their tributes alive, even if sometimes it did get on enobaria's nerves — like right now, when she'd rather just be left alone until the parade was over, and then she could give one statement about how two's tributes had done well and were going to do well in the games and then go back to the suite and take a nap.
“i'm doing okay,” she said. easier to just get it over and done with. “do you want to go out there and chat some? i think the parade is just about to get started. i'm sure there's novelty cocktails or something.” if she was going to go out there again, she was at least going to have a damn drink.
“A joke with a lot of sponsor cash. Munch munch, we are in District 9′s Hunger Memes until the arena starts,” he laughed. There was something in him that felt a kinship with the kids from District 9. “Likely, none of this was intentional, but think about it, Enobaria. Imagine, a twelve-year-old boy in the Capitol. Very into the Games. Sees a vaguely cute girl dressed in prime meme material? His chat server is 100% raising money to send her something once they are able to. A meme darling in the same way the vaguely twinkish sad boy is for twelve-year-old girls.”
enobaria inclined her head at him in agreement. “fair point,” she conceded. “but that means they have to live long enough to get sponsor gifts. they'll probably be fucked once they get into the arena.” and god, wouldn't it be sad if after all the jokes they died on day one in the arena? jokes that lead to sponsorships didn't mean shit if you didn't live long enough to reap the rewards. and, though she wouldn't admit it to vander's face — she respected her fellow victors too much to insult them to their face — but privately, she thought that those two would probably be bloodbath kills. if she was in diana or rufus's place, she would probably target them.
“A joke with a lot of sponsor cash. Munch munch, we are in District 9′s Hunger Memes until the arena starts,” he laughed. There was something in him that felt a kinship with the kids from District 9. “Likely, none of this was intentional, but think about it, Enobaria. Imagine, a twelve-year-old boy in the Capitol. Very into the Games. Sees a vaguely cute girl dressed in prime meme material? His chat server is 100% raising money to send her something once they are able to. A meme darling in the same way the vaguely twinkish sad boy is for twelve-year-old girls.”
enobaria inclined her head at him in agreement. “fair point,” she conceded. “but that means they have to live long enough to get sponsor gifts. they'll probably be fucked once they get into the arena.” and god, wouldn't it be sad if after all the jokes they died on day one in the arena? jokes that lead to sponsorships didn't mean shit if you didn't live long enough to reap the rewards. and, though she wouldn't admit it to vander's face — she respected her fellow victors too much to insult them to their face — but privately, she thought that those two would probably be bloodbath kills. if she was in diana or rufus's place, she would probably target them.
It had been a long day. The week leading up to the start of the Games always was. Between the interviews and the parties and everything in between, the stylists and the prep teams had their work cut out for them.
Aria’s feet ached in her lilac heels as she wrapped up her work for the day. She’d pick up where she left off with the rest of Four’s prep team bright and early in the morning, but for now, she was ready for a much-needed break. The only thing left to do was to put her materials away.
When Aria opened the door to the room they had claimed for storage, the last thing she had expected to see was another person. “Oh,” she squeaked in surprise, instinctively pulling the roll of fabric she was carrying closer to her chest. “Sorry. Um…I can come back?”
enobaria heaved a sigh, and then put on a smile. “no, it's okay,” she said, her voice going up a pitch as she put on her ‘placating capitolites’ voice. “i'm the one in your storage closet, right?” she chuckled, trying to make it seem as though she hadn't been approximately a minute away from a complete and total breakdown. “you're a prep team member, aren't you? one of... cashmere's?” enobaria knew she wasn't one of two's — even though she only knew her own prep team by name, she was familiar enough with the faces of the rest of two's prep teams that she would recognize them by face, if not by name, so she had to be one of the other prep teams. she'd spent the most time with cashmere, so it seemed like a logical guess that this woman was one of hers.
“let me get out of your way,” enobaria offered, moving towards the door of the storage closet in an attempt to get out of the woman's way.
While Siren knew she needed to be seated in the victor's box, or standing with the other mentors. The air surrounding her had seem to be almost suffocating, and she wasn't sure if that was because of the crowd of people surrounding her - or because of her own anxiety. This was her first year serving as an official mentor for district four. The year that she would have to show two children how to survive a blood bath full of twenty-two other people. After politely excusing herself, Siren looked for the closest exit - or somewhere she could hide for a moment. To catch her breath and regain her composure. The last thing she wanted was to ruin Neptune and Isla's chances because of her own issues.The voice caught her attention before she had even stepped foot into the small room.
"No," Siren shook her head. "I'm not -" blowing out a puff of air as she tried to find her words. "I just needed a moment to breathe. I hadn't realized anyone else was in here."
enobaria smiled sympathetically at the younger woman. if she was right, this was siren — one of four's kids who had won a couple years back. “you're okay,” she reassured her. “i needed a minute, too. it can get...overwhelming.” she exhaled slowly. it had been ten years since she'd won, and enobaria still found the crowds overwhelming, still found herself anxious when trapped in a crowd of strangers, still found herself reaching for the place where her knives would've been, if she was still in the arena.
for all their talk of winning, enobaria still had days where she had trouble believing the arena had ended. that she'd made it out. that she'd won.
“it never really ends, huh?” enobaria murmured quietly, half to herself. “the arena is a show, but it's all show. you're performing for the rest of your damn life.” enobaria caught herself gnawing at the inside of her cheek absentmindedly when the sharp iron taste of blood filled her mouth. she swallowed hard.
“alright, i believe you,” seaton nodded. at this point he had no reason not to believe her - with the games just around the corner and the weight of all that meant floating in the air he took what most people said with a grain of salt. allowing himself to rest a bit easier against the wall he understood that they were both there for the same purpose.
he recognized her, he made it a point to know all the victors of past games so he was knowledgable when mingling in the capitol. “i understand. you’re not a bother at all.” he just took in the silence of them both for a moment. he couldn’t imagine the pressure that was on her shoulders because his only sense of what it was like came from his sister. “enobaria, right? district two?”
she nodded as he said her name. “yeah,” she said, and then added, “you're a gamemaker. i don't think i remember your name,” she flashed a close-lipped smile, not wanting to show her teeth. largely, people had one of three reactions to her teeth: they gushed over her teeth — enobaria had a good sense of which ones those would be by now, and would play along, smiling wide for them; or they were scared of them — this was mostly the young children, or anyone from the districts. the third group saw her display as a threat — as enobaria saying, i ripped out that child's throat, and i'd do it again. it never seemed to matter to them that that she'd only ripped out his throat in an act of desperation.
“i hope you'll forgive me for forgetting your name,” she said. “there's just so many people in the capitol. it's hard to keep track of everyone's name.” that was a lie, one that was easier for other people to swallow; she didn't like to remember the names of capitolites unless she had to. it was hard enough to watch people treat the tributes and victors the way they did without knowing the names and keeping a mental tally of everyone who had ever bought or sold a victor or bet for or against a tribute.
“alright, i believe you,” seaton nodded. at this point he had no reason not to believe her - with the games just around the corner and the weight of all that meant floating in the air he took what most people said with a grain of salt. allowing himself to rest a bit easier against the wall he understood that they were both there for the same purpose.
he recognized her, he made it a point to know all the victors of past games so he was knowledgable when mingling in the capitol. “i understand. you’re not a bother at all.” he just took in the silence of them both for a moment. he couldn’t imagine the pressure that was on her shoulders because his only sense of what it was like came from his sister. “enobaria, right? district two?”
she nodded as he said her name. “yeah,” she said, and then added, “you're a gamemaker. i don't think i remember your name,” she flashed a close-lipped smile, not wanting to show her teeth. largely, people had one of three reactions to her teeth: they gushed over her teeth — enobaria had a good sense of which ones those would be by now, and would play along, smiling wide for them; or they were scared of them — this was mostly the young children, or anyone from the districts. the third group saw her display as a threat — as enobaria saying, i ripped out that child's throat, and i'd do it again. it never seemed to matter to them that that she'd only ripped out his throat in an act of desperation.
“i hope you'll forgive me for forgetting your name,” she said. “there's just so many people in the capitol. it's hard to keep track of everyone's name.” that was a lie, one that was easier for other people to swallow; she didn't like to remember the names of capitolites unless she had to. it was hard enough to watch people treat the tributes and victors the way they did without knowing the names and keeping a mental tally of everyone who had ever bought or sold a victor or bet for or against a tribute.
two's kids looked good this year, she had to give their stylist that. she tried to avoid any and all game-related events, because even though she wasn't an official mentor, that didn't stop sponsors from swarming her as though she was. and that was putting aside all of the gossip magazine writers, fans, and other assorted hangers-on who kept trying to bother her. she'd ended up escaping into a back room she was pretty sure one of the stylists was just as storage just to avoid the crowd. she rubbed her temple, trying to ease the headache that she could already feel forming in the back of her skull. she just needed five minutes alone before this headache crystallized into something worse.
she heard the door creak open, and cursed silently to herself.
“before this conversation goes any further,” she said, to the person who had just entered, “may i remind you that i am not rufus or diana's mentor, and thus any mentor-related inquiries you have should be directed to lyme or brutus.”
Training had just started for the Tributes after the Parade, and Cecelia had wanted to keep an eye on Satina and Taylor to get a gauge on what they could improve on, and what else they could work with. Other Tributes were in the Training Center as well, and she watched them at their stations from the viewing room. She hoped her Tributes would be able to hold their own in these Games, but she also knew better than to set her hopes too high, too early. The door to the viewing room opened and she saw Enobaria enter. She offered a timid smile to the other Mentor along with a nod in greeting, "Enobaria." She wasn't sure how talkative the other Mentor would be, but Cecelia figured it wouldn't hurt to strike up some small talk, "your Tributes looked great at the Parade."
“cecelia,” enobaria said, inclining her head slightly at the mentor by way of greeting. “they're not mine, but i'll pass the compliments on to lyme and brutus,” she said lightly, with a closed-lipped smile. she technically shouldn't be in the viewing room if she wasn't a mentor, but brutus had asked her to keep an eye on his kid while he had a sponsor meeting, so here she was anyway. “brutus had a meeting, so i'm keeping an eye on them in the meantime.”
“your kids looked good too. especially the girl. i think she caught some eyes,” she offered, a tight smile on her face. she hadn't really been playing that much attention at the parade, but it had been hard not to notice eight's tributes, sandwiched as they were between seven's trees and nine's... bread.
