Just Give Me A Reason || D9 Suite || Training Day 1
Curled up in the corner of my room, I blinked as a stream of light bled in through the crack under the door. I had skipped the festivities following the parade, instead opting to roam the training center. Slinking around, I listened for footsteps, ducking into the dark crevices and doorways as peacekeepers passed by.
I know what I was hoping to find, but I didn’t expect to actually find it. Which was good, because my snooping turned up nothing but an empty stomach and sore eyes from peering through the dark so long.
Still, despite my hunger, I couldn’t bring myself to eat when I arrived back at the suite. If anyone had noticed my absence, they didn’t let on and I slipped into my room without another word.
Footage of the Games seemed to be the only thing the Capitol aired, and I found myself staring at my own face, which took up the entire space of the wall across from my bed. Furrowing my brow, I tried stared at the image, not recognizing myself under the layers of makeup and costume.
And then it happened. The camera switched to a behind the scenes view and I saw her.
My mother, gaunt and clothed in red, stood to the side of the ballroom, barely visible in the background of a shot of one of the District’s escorts, who was chatting away.
I felt my whole world slam to a stop and a moment later I was out of the room. I didn’t make it far before I realized that we had been locked into to our suite for the night.
But it didn’t matter; she was alive, just like I had said all along, and now I had the opportunity to find her.
As soon as all of the voices in the suite had faded, I stood, my joints creaking against the movement after so long in one position, but I barely heard it. I had a mission, and there wasn’t anything that was going to stop me.
A tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered- perhaps it was a trick of the light, or just me making things up again. But there was a feeling in my gut that nothing but absolute surety would eliminate. Searching the training center, I went room by room, floor by floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mother.
And then I saw her. I didn’t know where I was, really, or how long I had been looking. It was like I was watching myself from out of my body as I approached her.
She looked tired, worn, so different than the last time I had seen her, but it didn’t matter. I knew it was her. And as soon as she saw me, it was like a light went on inside of her.
I watched as a ran to her, and hated how I couldn’t feel her arms wrap around me, nor her hand run through my hair. I longed to hear her voice, but as I looked at her, I realized that it didn’t matter if out was in my body or outside. She wouldn’t be able to speak to me.
She was an avox.
With that realization, I felt my head spin as I was suddenly slammed back into my body and her grasp on me became less of a hug and more of a way to keep me from falling.
Before I could right myself, I heard heavy footsteps and felt my mother pull away just as a pair of peacekeepers rounded the corner.
“What are you doing down here, boy?”
I blinked wordlessly, which they did not seem to appreciate.
“This one’s an idiot, clearly.” The other said derisively, moving forward and gripping my upper arm tightly, before half dragging me away, the other on my other side.
Still I didn’t speak. If they thought I was an idiot, that was fine, but if they suspected I knew the avox... Forcing my eyes forward, I let them lead me away, but justas we rounded the corner, I couldn’t help but turn my head. In that split moment, I was able to make eye contact with my mother, trying to tell her I would be back, before the wall separated us once more.
I didn’t realize how late it was until I looked at the huge electronic clock mounted on the wall. It was tempting to call it a night and head back upstairs, but I wanted to stop by at least one more station before the training center closed.
Ropework and tying knots went hand-in-hand with a lot of what we do in Four - fishing, sailing and so on. If there wasn’t a piece of rope or line around, you improvised. I recognized some of the materials laid out at the table at the vacant station, and some of the knot patterns already tied off as examples.
“Cutting it a little close, eh, kid?” The trainer said, “You should just come back tomorrow.”
“I don’t really have the luxury of time to waste.” It was an honest answer more than one meant to instigate.
“Valid.” He gave a nod and motioned to a pile of loose twine, “Lets see you make a sturdy piece of rope. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you know what you’re doing, Four.”
I laid out a handful of twine, eight equal strips in total, and tied them off together at the top. Dividing them into two groups of four I began braiding one strip into another, over and under until I came to the end. Using the small knife available I cut off the excess and laid out my finished work for the trainer to check over. He stretched it out between both hands, pulling it taut. For a survival station the guy had muscle behind his grip. Thankfully, the rope held.
“Not bad. What else have you worked with, rope, twine and line aside?”
“Shredded pieces of cloth, seaweed-”
“Seaweed?” He raised a brow.
“Didn’t work out that well.” I said with forced chuckle
“I don’t imagine it did.” He shook his head over a roll of his eyes and what I took to be a smirk, “If you’re up the creek, keep an eye out for either one of these-”
I recognized the cattail at face value but didn’t know a sturdy natural material until Obelix went into further detail, “Cut it into strips and let them dry for a bit, and you have yourself a couple of options as to how to make the best use out of them.” Material to braid into rope, shelter, mats even.
“Save those last options for the second half of the station.”
The next plant he pulled over was milkweed stem, “Its fibres are as good as twine, provided you dry it out first.” He explained how to properly cut the fibres out and demonstrated how to make a simple cord.
“You have your material. Figure eight, slip knot, and- what’s that one you use to tie off boats?”
“Cleat hitch?”
He snapped his fingers and pointed to the different strands of material.
The patterns came easily enough, the majority of which I learned while off on the refugee islands my parents shipped me off to while they were “claiming neutral” during the Rebellion. Obelix tested each knot out letting me move onto the next one. If one failed, he made me redo it. A bit tedious, but I appreciated it none the less, especially when he started showing me some new patterns. For as much as I knew there was just as much as I didn’t.
“Enough with the knots and nets and what have you. Follow me-”
He led me behind the supply table to an open space with a dirt floor. He held his arm up and stopped me mid stride, “Um-?”
“There’s a trap set up somewhere between here and there.” He nodded forward. The space couldn’t have been more than a yard, maybe two,“If you can spot sharks, jellyfish and whatever else lives out in Four, this shouldn’t be that difficult. I’ll give you a hint though: I suggest you watch where you step.”
It was obvious whatever trap he laid out was somewhere on the ground, considering the space was totally bare. I started scanning the area for anything that looked out of place. Nothing jumped out at me, both literally and figuratively. I took a step into the area, only letting my weight rest once I was sure nothing was set off.
I crouched down low to the ground and squinted, hoping it would sharpen my view and was still coming up with squat. The dirt wasn’t overturned or blatantly concealing whatever he had set up. This guy was probably a master trapsman, of course it wouldn’t be easy.
I exhaled through my nose and glanced back, Obelix watching me intently, “Give up?”
“Improvising.” I stepped back onto the training floor and grabbed a handful of the branches at the supply table, snapping the thicker ones in half and placing my feet back in the dirt on my own footprints. I started tossing the broken branches along the dirt, hoping to find a trigger. I heard Obelix chuckle behind me when each branch lay flat on the surface, but I wasn’t going to throw in the towel.
Cautiously I started across the space to get the sticks, half walking-half sliding my foot along the dirt while my eyes followed them intently. I froze in place when my sneaker tapped something in the ground that didn’t move on impact. I bent down and gently brushed the dirt away, revealing an embedded broken branch holding something flat in place.
Before I could continue Obelix walked past me and dragged his hand over the patch of ground in front of me, uncovering a loosely woven mat. It wasn’t that big, but the bed of buried knives beneath it could have caused a lot of damage.
“Beginners trick, but you had the right idea of trying to find something to tip it off. Come back tomorrow or the following day and I’ll show you how to make a thing or two. Oh, and-” He cracked a grin and nodded to the stretch of dirt between where we stood and the training floor, “-safe trip.”
I rolled my eyes inwardly and couldn’t help but watch my step walking from the station to the elevator outside the training room. As if there was anywhere in the Capitol or otherwise that could be considered “safe” these days.
Just like the night before the reaping, I didn’t sleep. It wasn’t my fault thought. She kept me awake with her murmuring. I could tell her sound against those of the others. Barely speaking above a whisper, she told me all the things that would happen with her warm, silky voice. I could have got myself high. That would have shut her up and let me to focus on something other than my mind. But I didn’t. I let her laugh in my ear, petrifying me with her prophecies and making me feel so cold. She was my only company. I didn’t want to be alone. And besides, I didn’t have much left. What I did have left I needed for the arena. I needed to save it so I could focus and survive and go back home to my brother. All the while I sat, she laughed, and I struggled to keep a hold of what I had left.
I repeated the words. Water chord dusk polygraph red snow water chord dusk polygraph red snow water chord dusk polygraph red snow.
“It isn’t enough, you know?” She said quietly at some point during the night. I huddled the blankets around me tighter, repeating the words under my breath both in fear and need of what she was going to say next.
“By tomorrow half of them will be gone.” She laughed and I could almost see the smile on her face. Why did it she find it fun? “Nile is terrible. You’re terrible. Hah.”
I heard something running on the roof, hard and heavy.
I felt my breath quicken and my chest burned with a heat to match. I felt wrong, like something was missing.
“I can make you forget!” She screamed, sending chills down my spin as I flinched.
“Please don’t,” I cried.
I awoke in the morning to the sound of knocking and no recollection of falling asleep. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what happened. I walked clumsily to the door and pulled it open to find Jacinta dressed, made up and ready, a scolding glare that softened slightly at what I guess was my face.
“Are you alright?” She asked and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I had a bad night.” I said emptily, and - water.
When I was 11 years old Nile took me to the shore. He had told me that we had visited the beach plenty of times before, almost daily, dating back to when our mom was alive. I told him that I didn’t remember. It turned out that what he said was true because he pulled me into the water and I swam like I was born in the sea. It felt like the home I couldn’t remember. I was never sure what ingrained that day in my mind so firmly, but it was, and because of it, I could attach other memories to it and keep those too. It was an anchor for me. A beacon in the darkness of my empty mind that lit up the surrounding details. Eventually it would bring back other pieces but I couldn’t grasp on to them strongly enough to make them stay. I was simply left with a feeling that I saw something that made sense but couldn’t see it any longer.
“Aisha!” I heard and snapped out of it.
“Sorry.” I kept my eyes off of her.
“Your behavior has been all over the place since day 1.” The Capitolite began. “This attitude will not get you anywhere in these Games, Aisha. Where is your respect? Your focus? Do you understand the gravity of this situation? How much is at stake?”
“Not a game.” I said flatly. She stood silently. “Not better sober. Low mind, low mood, no control. I have to think about memories, I can’t change it. Hold them.” I shook my head. “Sorry. Focus on water. I mean Aquarius.”
“Excuse me, I will focus as much attention as I need to on y-”
“Okay!” I said getting aggravated. “Tell me I need to be dressed and ready for training, need to eat before I go and I get to the center on time.”
“I- Yes.” She said, obviously taken aback. “How did you-”
I closed the door.
Survival Skills
The biggest threat I’d face in the arena was myself. She told that countless times throughout the night. I wasn’t sure what to do about that. The next biggest threat would be the environment and survival and I could do something about it. So I found myself at the survival station.
The station had an abundance of supplies, both manmade and natural that can be used to survive the arena. I listened to the trainer, trying to focus on everything they said, but I was imagining the arena too vividly. My thoughts went from logical interpretations of the trainer’s tips to fantasies of running, hearing cannons one after the other signifying death, standing among the last 4, the last 2, hurt and broken, but wild with the prospect of what I’ve done and winning because of it. I could hear laughing, cackling even, but it didn’t feel demonic like it did last night. Before I knew it, I was parched, jumpy, and the skin below my left breast was burning. Touching it stung. The trainer asked me if I had any questions. I ask him to show me how to build a fire.
I hoped that in the arena I’d be graced with some form of match or lighter because building a fire by hand was time consuming. My palms were rubbed raw and noticeably red after fifteen minutes of trying to start of spark. Eventually the flame took and the trainer told me what burned clean and produced minimal smoke to avoid others finding you. The kindling made the fire larger. Fire was nice. It was alive and destructive. It had purpose. I wanted that.
Before I left the training station I listen to the trainer’s introduction on shelters. If it came to it, I would rather make a natural feature of the arena as a shelter, like a cave or burrow. Still, the trainer’s tips on concealing your makeshift home were useful. After an hour of guidance, reprimands for stupid mistakes really, a had an okay looking shelter that would probably suit best for the trees. I wasn’t much of a climber.
Traps & Knots
I would have loved to go back to the suite and stop existing for a while but bits and pieces of Jacinta scolding me this morning resurfaced and I decided I’d pass. Besides. I had a plan to stick to. Next was the traps and knots station where I’d spent more time learning about traps than knots.
The trainer here called me antisocial and boring for training alone. I shrugged at him. I think my blank stare eventually broke him because after a few seconds he was teaching me how to make a land trip. These traps ranged from simple contraptions that intended to capture to more deadly pieces that actually meant to at least injure or kill. The one we were focused on was a trap that could potentially kill a small animal if it were small enough. It was at this topic that I realized the voices weren’t talking as much. Usually they were loud, exuberant and aggressive. But at this particular moment, I couldn’t discern the silky warm tones that disturbed my thoughts last night against the white noise of the training center. I smiled.
After an hour and a half I successfully managed to recreate one of the capture trap the trainer demonstrated to me. He suggested that I get caught in it myself and then figure my way out since I had no one to train with. Comment aside, I had nothing better to do. Distractions were nice.
I was upside down and it was not pleasant. My ankle was caught in the loop pulled taught by the pulley as the trainer called it a few feet away. He advised me to pull myself up by my core and slowly loosen the loop but to be careful and brace myself as I fell. I did just that, but I as I attempted to grab my legs, the loop just got tighter around my ankle, digging deeper into my skin as I struggled upwards.
“I can’t.” I said, a little out of breath as I swung lazily from side to side. The pressure to my head was getting unbearable.
“Are you asking for help?” The trainer asked, brow raised. I cast my glance away from him.
“N-no.”
He laughed. I glanced around and finally decided the pulley wasn’t that ridiculously far away - possibly three or four feet - I could make it. I thrust myself back and forth, gaining momentum and distance with each swing until I reached the pole the pulley was tied to. This inevitably made the loop tighter around my ankle but it would be for long.
Clung to the pole, I took bated breaths. “I’d have a knife.” I told the trainer. “Fake it, pretend. Tree. Cut it, fall, done.”
The trainer looked at me puzzled. “Let me dowwwnnn!” He seemed to get it as he finally procured a pair of scissors and cut the line. I braced myself for the short fall that did not go as planned. I felt the expected relief from the tension that pulled on my ankle but what immediately followed was a burst of tearing pain in my arm. I hit the floor on my hands and knees and touched my arm. It came back Red.
And I remembered something. The trainer stood above, waving at my face.
“Huh?” I sounded.
“You... zoned out. It’s been like five minutes. Are you okay? I looked at the cut, it’s not that bad.”
“Five?” I said. I look at my arm, turning at my elbow to see it. A long, clean cut line, not very deep, stinging, but definitely not life threatening.
“I… bye.” I said and got to my feet. The trainer called after me, something about a clinic but I already made the necessary changes to my steps. I heard someone laughing.
Swimming Pool
I couldn’t forget what I remembered. I could not let that happen. I repeated it over and over again as I walked across the centre, searching for a new station to train at. I saw the swimming pool and decided it would work. The water would make me feel at home and hopefully, help me remember more.
I didn’t give the water a moment’s thought and simply jumped in. The water was cold, uncomfortably cold, but I could adjust. No need in messing with the controls. As I swam laps, I sought control in my memory’s darkness. The way my mind worked was simple. The pieces floated around. I visualized them, like pictures. Suspended in a consuming darkness, they hung, gradually moving away from my immediate vicinity. The prominent ones were always closer. Snow. Intoxicating, I wanted it but I needed to focus. There was a gravity between the fragments and myself but I was getting weaker and weaker as life went on. It was always getting harder to keep them close and remember. Water. Red. Red… There were others, further away, that were close enough for make out but just out of my grasp. Like Polygraph. I would get to them, eventually. I touched the wall of the pool’s deep end and began swimming back. I willed myself faster.
Everything that made me was contained in that space.. There wasn’t much, but for what there was I knew them each very well, left, right, backwards, upside, inverted, reflected. I also know that many must have left the darkness, so many times, because why else would I so desperately try and keep the ones I have? I think about falling from the trap and the pain from the cut.
I was somewhere dark and I was younger. I was probably scared. My lower back was throbbing. I stopped swimming and stood up in the water, reaching underneath the back of my training shirt and touched the skin above my hip. My fingers passed over a raised thickened line of skin. A scar. How did I not realize I had a scar? A new fragment. The Scar. I attached it to Red and hoped it would stick around long enough for me to do something with it. It was all coming together. At last.
I needed alone time. Were we supposed to make connections with the other tributes before being sent out to kill them? Then again, I wasn’t sure if that made it harder to kill them or easier. Certainly I would have no qualms about hearing the cannon signaling the death of that girl from One.
Picking up two barbells I began to flex under the careful supervision of the station instructor. He looked at me as if I was going to steal the god damn things. I rolled my eyes and continued moving them up and down, up and down.
That girl from Eight wasn’t too bad, and the guy from Ten was kind of a peacock but he was all right, I guessed. I wouldn’t be excited to fight should we meet in the arena. Same with my district partner.
I was still pumping with adrenaline after the high frequency workout I’d just gotten at the melee station, so after setting the dumbbells down I made my way to the bench press and set what I deemed an appropriate amount of weight onto the bar. Allowing the instructor to spot me, I began the workout. It wasn’t too difficult, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the adrenaline, or because those years in the mines had genuinely made me that strong. It wasn’t something to dwell on, I decided.
After enjoying the silence during my bench press, I stood up and removed my shirt. The sweat was saturating the fabric and would only weigh me down.
My next stop was the pull-up bar. I could feel my arms fatiguing as I worked the muscles continuously but it was nice to work hard without dealing with anyone else. It wasn’t too different from working in the mines, where the only person I had to answer to was my supervisor at the start and end of each day.
Being here was my personal hell. I’d already decided that within five seconds of boarding the train. The over-the-top pageantry, the interference of the government in my life... as if they hadn’t ruined it enough by ransacking my parents butcher shop or by arresting them when I needed them most.
I let go of the bar at the thought. I hadn’t addressed the arrest of my parents, even to myself, in years. There was a good chance they were dead. Either that or avoxes here in the Capitol. Would I see them? Or, the even worse thought came to me, would I even recognize them if I did see them?
The nausea from this morning’s stomach ache came back to me. What had the government done with my parents?
After wiping the sweat from my brow I threw the rag down onto the ground. The last thing I needed to happen was dealing with the shit about my missing parents that I’d buried deep down eight years ago.
I needed to leave the training center, I decided. At least the television back at the suite would distract me from my thoughts.
After lunch I was thankfully feeling the nausea pass, both from my incident earlier this morning and from the way the girl in the pool had made me want to puke a little. I’d eaten more carefully this time, stocking up on protein and keeping anything too rich to a minimum. Now, I decided, was when it was time to get going on the more physical activities.
I had approached the melee station already when another boy stepped a few feet in front of me towards the weapons, clearly not noticing me. After he picked up a shield and I questioned him about it he turned to me and I picked up a medium-sized sword, trying to look capable but feeling awkward and clunky with this thing in my hand. It had a different feel from a pickaxe.
“Need a sparring partner?” I asked.
“Why certainly 12.” I replied, a southern drawl pouring from me towards the handsome boy from 12 as I drank him in, he was taller than me by a little, handsome in the face and he appeared to be lean under the training uniform that we’d been given. “There much to know about fighting all medievil style back in District 12?” The question was tacked on as I picked a sword for myself the was barely longer than the daggers, it seemed strange in my hand and as I swiped through the air a few times I decided against using it as the combination to the shield that I already had.
My eyes traipsed over the other options I had and the trainer watched the both of us for a second as my hand fell on the handle of a single headed battleaxe, it was a lot heavier than the sword but the curve of the weapon made me feel more comfortable about getting a blow in while being able to shield myself successfully.
“I’m Siavash by the way.” I offered as I returned back to the boy from 12, placing the handle of the axe between my thighs I stretched my hand into the space between the two of us in offer for the boy to take it. “You’re...Benin? If I remember correctly from Reapings?”
I stood and took in each of the weapons, some lovingly laid out on foam sheets on the table while other were hung from a rack. Most of the instruments of death were alien to me but the knives and daggers were beautiful to behold and would be deadly if I got my hands on them in the arena but the Game Makers wouldn’t know about my skills with those until I was really ready to impress.
Keeping my hands above the weapons I noticed that there was a round shield clipped to the edge of the table where the weapons lay. I couldn’t imagine learning how to protect myself with a shield being detrimental to my chaces of survival so I grabbed that first, holding it on my arm as I looked at what I could pair it with. My indecision hadn’t gone unnoticed as a voice chirped from behind me.
“Normally it’s a sword and shield isn’t it?” They questioned as I turned to see if a tribute was joining me at the station.
Climbing seemed really inconvenient. If the Game Makers were to throw us somewhere where climbing meant survival, it just seemed rude that we had to use such exertion. Twelve had mines, we lived below the mountains. There was no recreational climbing.
I groaned as I slipped on the climbing gloves, taking note of the male figure hot on my approach. Judging by just his face, he seemed a little fuck boy-ish. At least it was kind of pretty. With the right make-up, he’d be a hot she.
I moved to the wall and let out another sigh. It looked a lot smaller from over there. Great, not only do I get to embarrass myself, there is someone around to witness me plummet to the ground. “You didn’t ask, but I’m Jo,” I introduce.
players and pieces | wall climbing | pyrrha & calliope
From the treetops it was possible to see the bright light coming from the richer section of the district in contrast to where the rebels stayed. Most of the hideouts were deep within the woods, scouts would camp out in trees as she had done and ambush anyone who came close to the hideout. Darion and Pyrrha would climb a tree together if things were too stressful, up there they would talk for hours upon hours about what life used to be like. In an instant Pyrrha would have left her home to be alongside her brother and the other rebels, but it turned out that she was more useful when she lived back home.
Now Pyrrha stood in front of a simulated climbing wall, the instructor had it set to a mountainous terrain. It had been time since she had even climbed a tree, a mountainous terrain had never been an option to try. The instructor spoke as she and another girl, whose shirt was branded with an ‘8’, adjusted their harnesses and gloved their hands. “If you are unable to continue, all you need to do is kick off the wall lightly and let yourself down by managing your rope.” Pyrrha checked her harness and rope again, stepping up to the wall and looking up to where the crevices were.
Chalking her hands, as the instructor did, she looked to the girl who was at the station with her, Rhea had told her the names of each tribute to their district, but the name of this girl alluded her. “Hello,” Pyrrha said, “I’m Pyrrha.”
