Marzipan: And first up with have District One the cheap and pale imitation of the Capitol but my favourite District when it comes to glamour
Banana: Oooh I do like this, it's classy understated maaaybe a little unoriginal but there's nothing wrong with playing it safe
Marzipan: I do like the touch of the chariot fading to gold I've always loved animation during the procession it keeps things lively!
Banana: Let's just hope the rest of these suckers can impress! Oh! WE MIGHT NEED A HOSE THERE'S SOMETHING BURNING!
Marzipan: I damn near pissed my pants Banana, but it just looks like the pair of them just contracted a mystery gold skin infection. Let's hope it's one of those twenty four hours things
Essa placed her fork back down on the plate as a few shining colors began shining from a distance. The Capitol.
âIt is odd,â she replied, taking one last gulp of wine. Essa stood up and began walking the length of the car, taking in the glamour of the train. Soon enough the moonlight from the window cut off as they dove into a tunnel, causing Essa to move towards the left side windows. This was it. Her time to shine.
Essa quickly fixed her hair in the dark reflection from the windows, making sure her lipstick was still in place and her curls hadnât gone frizzy. And soon enough, the tunnel let out to the luminescent colors of the Capitol in the night time. She placed her hand on the window, peering into the reflection of her district partner. It was odd; they were almost too alike.
The train pulled into the station, where they were met by the overwhelming faces of the Capitol elite cheering their names and their district. Peter stood up behind her as Indica and Ivory entered the car for the first time since theyâd taken off.
âLetâs give âem hell,â Essa said as they began walking towards the exit to the train. As one added gesture, she lifted herself onto her toes and kissed his cheek, winking at him as she took the lead outside. Barefoot but flawless, Essa walked out into the crowd that welcomed her home.
For the first time in years Peter allowed someone other than himself else to take the lead. Had it not been for the alcohol and stimulating conversation he would have bashed her head in on the pavement. There was something intriguing about his counterpart, something he couldnât pin point. Be it sass or facial structure, Peter was invested enough to the dialogue open.
The train finally came to the end of its journey upon entering the tunnel and the two graciously prepare themselves for stardom. Just a few seconds before the door opened Essa kissed Peter effortlessly upon the cheek. For some reason Peter let out a wink as after thought to perhaps confirm the gesture was well received.
The flash of the cameras nearly blinded the slightly intoxicated duo as they stepped outside but luckily Peter and Essa were champs at holding down their liquor so nothing could have been detected. The cameras furiously clicked on as the pair smiled and waved accordingly on route to their suite, showing just how to properly represent the most luxurious district in all of Panem while drunk.Â
Essa raised her eyebrow at his answer. She set the wine glass down as a couple more Avoxes entered the car with their dessert on a platter.
âPete, we might be a little more alike than it seems, after all,â she smiled a little and checked her fingernails, making sure none of her french manicure had chipped. âThis chance was taken from me six years ago. Iâm just here to take it back. Besides, I donât particularly need to better myself. Not through these means, at least.â
She picked up a slice of the cheesecake and plopped it onto her plate. The tension that had built between them within the last hour or two hadnât dissolved, exactly, but it was turning into something else. Essa wasnât quite sure where this was going, but she decided to keep playing along, even if just for the moment.
Peters brow raised at the sudden shift of tension in the car. Not five minutes ago they were at each others throats civilly and now there seemed to be a sense of agreement between the two. The best of friendships are made over a bond over a common enemy so who knows whatâll happen during their journey. Peter was game for anything as long as it advanced him further in the process.
âHow ironic is it that we both were suppose to compete in the same game, must be fate or some shit.âÂ
Downing the rest of his drink, Peter collected his hat and moved away from the bar towards the couch to further relax himself. It wasnât long before they would be arriving at the Capitol and the last thing he would want is a bad first impression.Â
As if something caught his eye the boy turned his gaze to the window, catching small glimpses of the grand architecture of the Capitol. âI have a feeling we are going to cause quite the stir with our fellow competitors. Whats that saying? Give em hell?â
âDonât flatter yourself,â Essa took another sip of her wine. Though she realized now why he looked so mildly familiar. Their siblings were district partners those several years go. How ironic. âI just appreciate people who donât bother with the bullshit niceties when theyâre clearly out for something else.â
Her boots were brand new and beginning to rub her heels from not having been broken in, so she reached down and pulled at the laces, tugging them off one at a time. Essa tossed the boots to the other side of the car and sighed in relief
âYouâre not out for something else, are you?â she asked. âI mean itâs pretty clear youâre just here for the glory, though I canât blame you.â
âEternal glory would be nice,â Peter added after taking a sip. âBut really I just want what was rightfully taken away from me.â Â
All Peter wants as of lately is to be respected after his familyâs fall from grace. The Games are just a mechanism he uses in order to jumpstart that ten fold.
âWhat are you here for? I canât imagine it would be to better yourself.â
âCause Iâm the self assured one here,â she muttered.
Well, sure, it was true. She was self-assured. It was only because she had a reason to be. Essa pushed away her plate, resisting the urge to smash it on the ground in annoyance. Instead she just took another long sip from her wine glass, feeling it finally getting to her head.
Essa turned her head to glance at him, narrowing her eyes as he poured himself another drink. A wave of disgust surged through her body and she rolled her eyes and turned back to the table.
âIt was my sister, by the way, thanks for asking,â she adjusted her pearl necklaces. âTwin. But Iâm sure youâre just too focused on the attention given to that hyper masculinity of yours to care. Sickening, really.â
âOh I remember that girl,â Peter scoffed. âWe were just so wrapped up in each other I thought we were skipping these details.â
Although it doesnât seem like it Peter remembers her twin all to well for many reasons, some good but mostly bad. If it werenât due to the fact it should have been him competing along side her in that years games, not his brother, he would have nothing but the highest regards for their family.
âWhats sickening is how much you want me to be honest. I may be guarding myself with some masculinity but it seems to have struck your fancy.â
As much as Peter hated to admit it he was growing quite fond of Essa in this short amount of time, he just didnât know in what way.Â
âOh like youâre one to be talking,â she retorted. âYou have no fucking idea what Iâve been through. Who died in your family to the Games, buddy?â
She sucked down the rest of the sweet tea, deciding that it didnât truly satisfy her thirst, so she poured herself a third glass of wine. Sipping quietly, she took a couple of moments.
âThen again, it probably doesnât even matter to you,â she said under her breath.
She combed her hair back away from her face with her fingers, letting her face fall to a neutral position as she took a deep breath. âWhere the fuck is our mentor and escort?â
âMy brother,â Peter declared with indifference. No one had asked for his eligibility until now so it was a little unnerving to hear it from her without regard. âIt does matter in the sense that Iâm allowed to be here now. Without his connection I couldnât meet the likes of you.âÂ
Just as Peterâs entree came to a close the avoxes quickly returned on cue and took away their plates to prepare for dessert. Peter removed himself from the table after wiping his beard and headed over to the bar for one last drink.Â
The boys nostrils flared upon arriving on the other side of the room, smelling the over powering stench pouring in from the cab next door. âOr they are getting high in the next room listening to your amazing self-assured attitude.â
Now he was deliberately trying to piss her off. And Essa could tell that the minute she let him push her over the edge sheâd be on the losing side. She simply drained the second glass of wine and moved on to the sweet tea, following his example as the Avoxes set down their main course.
She didnât speak for several minutes as she sliced into her chicken, chewing slowly. Glancing up at him while she twirled the knife in between her fingers, she swallowed and took a long drink from the tea.
âNow letâs not go saying things we regret, sweetie,â she said calmly as she set the glass down.
The silence that fell after Peterâs words soon overcame the room. Almost nothing was audible but the sound of forks colliding with plates, both of them exchanging angsty looks at each bite.Â
âSweetie huh?â Peter chuckled in-between bites of chicken. âOh lord, youâve broken out the big guns now, I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper class oppression to get to this level.â
Essa glanced up at her district partner as she speared a slice of pear with a walnut. âWell it might not be as bulky as you seem to prefer, Mister Beefy, but some of us have learned to appreciate sustenance. Especially since itâs going to be so scarce in a week.â
She winced a little at his language. While she might not have had the most polite of mouths, such misogynistic word choice rubbed her the wrong way. She placed a bite of goat cheese carefully in her mouth.
âNah I just prefer to be a dick to everyone while Iâm drunk off my ass,â she set her fork down as she finished the salad, letting the Avox take it away. âOr, you know, I could be polite and reap the benefits there. I prefer not to let my muscles speak for me when I have a perfectly functioning brain. Unlike some people.â
Pushing the plate further into the middle, Peter wiped his hands through his beard. âOh please enlighten me, who are we talking about? I couldnât possibly imagine someone with a functioning brain like yours purposely pissing off a muscular, formidable, opponent, come arena time.âÂ
Although Peter had plenty more to drink he decided to switch to the tea this time around, seeing as though it would fit the situation better.Â
âI canât believe you just admitted being a dick, thatâs so unbecoming,â Peter tskâd while placing the dainty cup of tea back onto itâs saucer. âThese preferred pronouns we keep placing for each other canât go on forever you know.âÂ
It had been a while since a man hadnât been afraid to dish it back to her; Essaâs prettiness and willingness to charm the more foolish members of her inner circle had always held them from biting her back. But this guy was just abrasive as hell. And she didnât want to admit that it was kind of attractive. But there was no way she was going to let him win here.
âLucky for you Iâm not a bullshit kind of person,â she sipped her wine. âAnd Iâm not the one getting a boner over a few shots of vodka and a little overconfidence here.â
A sound clanged from the other end of the car as several Avoxes entered, holding platters with decadent food piled on top of them. Essa didnât say a word as she sat down at the table and let them place a cup of sweet tea in front of her.
âYou having dinner? Or will your bottle of vodka suffice?â
Peters eyes widen at her mention of a boner, heâd been so careful...Â
Seeing the atmosphere shift at the shuffling of Avoxes preparing dinner, Peter had no choice but to join his sassy comrade at the table if he wanted to continue this bitch fest. He was far from done.Â
He picked up his drink and sat directly across from Essa at the table, âVodkas nice, butâs itâs not--â Just before he could finish his sentence an Avox carefully placed a pear, walnut, and goat cheese salad on the table.
âItâs not salad...â Peter mocked appearing disgusted at this peasant food in front of him. âBut please go on, tell me about yourself, do you prefer the bitchy approach when meeting new people or the cunt method? Itâs not everyday you meet a girl who rivals my distaste for people.â
Essa downed the rest of her wine, feeling a wine flush come to her cheeks. So he was going in for similar reasons, she realized. Did that mean he could match her in skill? Maybe. But Essa didnât believe there was any reason to be particularly worried until she could assess his skills in the training center. âAnd Iâm twenty-four and the same way.â
She stood up again, refilling her glass with more red wine. Essa reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, letting it cascade down the black dress she wore. âNo need to be rude, I was just making a correct insinuation. Or is it just a hobby of yours to degrade anybody that might make you a little uncomfortable?
Peter let out a smile at Essaâs thought of him being rude. It definitely wasnât the first he offended someone and most certainly not the last. Most children back in One end up just like their parents one way or another and this just goes to show a representation of his household. He preferred to be open with his words, seeing no reason to put a filter.Â
âActually yes, I do have many hobbies thanks for asking. One of them is reading people and their bullshit. If I can take it why not dish it.â
Filling his glass with another shot, he opted out of straight Vodka this time around and decided to mix some pineapple juice for added flavor.
Taking a casual sip from the glass he grits his teeth at the tart of juice, âYou like the confrontation donât you? Gives you a thrill? Iâm going to be your best friend after this ride in that case.â
âDonât bother. Just Essa,â she took a long sip from her wine glass, feeling the sharp liquid make its way down her throat. The simple motion calmed her down a little bit as she took another bite from the apple.
She noticed that Indica had disappeared and a peculiar smell was wafting through the door from another car, but chose to ignore it.
âSo,â Essa sat down in the nearest plush chair, crossing one leg over the other and cradling her wine in her left hand. âWhatâs going on that made you volunteer? I mean itâs pretty clear you like the attention.â
âYou better believe it,â Peter interjected. âI volunteered because Iâm twenty-six and this is my last shot of going in the Games.âÂ
Taking another sip because the tea was getting hot, Peter scoffed to himself thinking of how arrogantly blunt she became in asking such a question. âYou feel uncomfortable when were not about you huh? Itâs okay.â
Essa was still fuming from the discussion with her naive and oblivious parents. As the Peacekeepers led them to the train, her district partner took the lead towards the large vehicle, so Essa yanked her arm away from her escort. She could find her way inside by herself, thank you very much.
The inside of the car was as decadent and elegant as one would expect from the Capitol, but coming from the district of luxury, neither of the tributes were particularly taken aback by the rich foods and comfortable furniture adorning the train. Realizing she hadnât eaten anything since her breakfast that morning, Essa picked up an apple and bit from it, throwing it in the air and catching it as it came down, realizing how antsy she was getting from all the sitting around.
Peter poured himself what seemed to be a few shots of straight vodka into a glass and downed it quickly before offering one to her.
So heâs a show-off, Essa thought. This is going to be interesting.
She simply stared him down for a few seconds. âI prefer something a little more⊠elegant. Straight spirits are so rough going down, you know?â
Essa then reached over and poured herself a glass of red wine. Of course, sheâd be able to handle the vodka or any other alcohol thrown her way. But subtlety was something she had always been taught was vital for a woman to earn the same respect as her counterparts.
Taking his now filled glass to her red wine he gently clinked the two drinks together, hoping a toast would be both well received and appreciated. âTo the victor goes the spoils.âÂ
While adjusting his shirt collar to fit better he canât help but notice Ivoryâs and Indicaâs presence in the same car. With all the commotion heâs simply forgotten all about them. If they wanted to talk in this moment they were out of luck as far as Peter is concerned.Â
âPrincipessa is it?...â Peter trails off rhetorically. âDo you got a nick-name because thats a bit of a mouth full.â
After those gag worthy âI might never see you againâ goodbyes to their parents, Peter and Principessa are immediately escorted to the train following the Reaping. With the excitement of the Quell on everyones lips things must be thrusted into hyper drive this year as not one of them had time for pictures or sound bites. Time was of importance and a schedule must be kept. Even if Indica could barely tell time the events that follow in this years Games are not ones to miss.
Seeing as how Peter thinks of no one but himself, he effortlessly takes the lead and enters the train upon arrival, making his way to the bar car out of pure instinct. While others in outlying districts may seemed surprised at the high caliber luxury his eyes remain at rest settling in on one of the barstools. This extravagance is nothing new to a Reznikov.
While Principessa began to settle in accordingly, Peter couldnât help but pour himself a drink first thing. Vodka, straight, no ice, the way his father always made it. âBottoms up,â he declared before quickly finishing off the glass. He wiped away the excess and removed his hat in one smooth motion, turning to the woman that was his partner in efforts to make the transition to the Capitol easier. âWould you care to have a drink with me?â
Staring back at his reflection in the hallway mirror, Peter coldly calculates the characteristics that made up his face. He became aware in full detail his distinguished beard, well groomed hair, chiseled abs and monstrous height, growing more fond by the seconds that passed of his appearance. Peter liked, even cherished, the way he looked. He took great pride of what his parents gave him and just wished others would appreciate this gift of man as he did.
Like a moth drawn to a flame he remained in awe at the mirror for a good half hour, half expecting some kind of response to todayâs meaning. For Peter there were absolutely no more barriers to cross. Today was the day of notability and resurrection of power. With everything he developed as a direct result of past events, uncontrollable, insane, vicious and evil, the utter indifference towards it all has now surpassed. His pain remains constant and sharp like a knife, he does not hope for a better world for anyone anymore. In fact, Peter would prefer his pain to be inflicted on others. He wants no one to escape. But even after admitting this to himself many times, there is no true catharsis; like the great villains in history his punishment continues to elude him, gaining no deeper knowledge of himself.
Hearing the alarm go off to signal the Reaping, Peter smiles in the mirror one last time, perfecting his shirt buttons to reveal the right amount of chest. He felt satisfied with the retro look, giving himself enough praise to leave the house.
Like the flick of a switch Peterâs cold gaze turns malicious and ill. He proceeds to channel this sudden onset of rage and begins to smash his forehead against the mirror, violently banging his head repeatedly against the vanity. With each whack the power behind it grows, cracking the mirror into hundreds of shards. The void becomes filled with the sounds of dull bangs bouncing off the walls, elicited by the shattering of glass. All the pain he was feeling was now a second thought in this moment as he felt a sense of relief doing this absurdly painful act.
After a few minutes pass he promptly stops the outburst like a finely tuned machine, disregarding the event all together as if it never happened. He adjusts his hair accordingly and moves it around with such ease, meticulously hiding the fresh wound in plain sight by his hairline. By the looks of how well maneuvered and quickly his clean up was it was apparent how often heâs done this.
A blur of seemingly irrelevant events occur in lieu of the mornings beating and Peter now remains towering amongst the other eligible attendees at the Justice Building. Slowly but surely more individuals begin compacting themselves behind the velvet roping. Peter paid no attention to the faces that passed as he finds them both repulsive and pathetic.
Indica babbles onto the stage like the true clone she is and selects the female representative from the bowl. Not two seconds later after reading the slip another voices chimes up and desperately volunteers to take her place. Although Peters outward presence maintained a sense of calm his mind began to race at the sight of the girl volunteering. If she was just as eager and brave he would have to step up his game to be remembered. He refused to be out shined at this important event.
âWhoa nelly Princepessa-â Indica mumbles gathering a hand full of slips from the male bowl. âCompeting alongside Ms. Lesauvage isâŠâ
âPeter Reznikov!â Peter interrupts before Indica has the opportunity to read the slip.
âWhoa Peter is it? Chill the fuck out, is that your way of volunteering because rude.â
Bush did nine eleven.
Without skipping a beat Peter makes his way up to the stage and greets both Indica and Essa with a hand, ignoring his selfish actions that lead him there all together. He looks out to the crowd and lets out a formidable smile as Indica lifts the microphone up towards his head. âFor the ladies out there who didnât hear you, whatâs your name again?â
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