@insightscursed asked:
Of those who had stood on the reaping stage every year since the 50th games, the younger victor never quite looked anyone in the eyes... except for, noticeably, each tribute. A thin woman with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, always dressed to cover most of her body (which by most whispers in the district, she had been involved in rebel plots gone wrong and suffered for it). Wide, grey eyes, followed the two names called in the sea of faces... never leaving them. And, somehow less comforting, there wasn't a hint of an expression. Not of sympathy. Not of pity. Just a stare that drilled into your soul if you looked long enough.
And now they were on the train... and those same eyes stared at the tributes with occasional interest. Her head tilted slightly, as if considering something to herself, her head only perking up if the other victor asked something of her... once the other had left, she stepped forward. Wiress took a breath as she looked at the tributes, deciding to try her best to be a 'mentor.' "Your easiest way to survive is to do what we both did..." her voice was weak, shaking a little, but seemingly trying to hold itself steady, "Avoid the others... and use your abilities to your advantage."
Fila can't deny that he's terrified. It shows, in the way his shoulders hunch in, curls falling over his eyes, in the way he keeps fiddling with the ring on a piece of cord that hangs around his neck, a gift from his sobbing mother before they'd said goodbye in the hall of justice. The short time with her before they'd been brought to the train had not been long enough, and how he wishes he could still be there, wrapped in her embrace, or better yet, at home, safe for another year. But fate is cruel, and in its way has decided that at thirteen years old, Fila should face the arena. That at thirteen years old, he should go to his almost inevitable death.
While the boy knows of their district victors, at least a little, he can't say that he really knows them. Just the basics, who they are, what games they won, the vague idea of how they did it. District 3 isn't exactly a common winner. Factories, technology, their work is important, but it's not usually overly conducive to winning in the arena, especially not when the careers are factored in. Older, stronger, more experienced, with no qualms about killing, meanwhile he cried for three days when the mangy old street cat he'd been sneaking scraps to had died of old age. Still, Fila listens, still toying with the necklace. Avoid the others. Definitely for the best. "A-abilities?" He's not really sure what he can claim to have. Small? Quick?
