I know I'm already days behind, but in my defense, I have college classes X,D. Anyways! This is for Day 3 of Egotober, which is Photo and another prompt from a list called Whimsy-tober: Spirit. Hopeful the length of the story can make up for it^^;
Also, the characters mentioned in this fic are my beloved blorbos!! Check out the pinned post for Ivy's reference and the hashtag for Castor. Enjoy!!!
TW: For horror and spooky vibes
“Yo, what’s up guys!! I’m Joe Spooky, and welcome to the sinister happenings of Bro Average!!!” Chase Brody announced with theatrical flair, his voice dipped into a mock-sinister tone as he addressed the camera from a dimly lit parking lot.
“That’s a dumb intro.” A man's voice teased the vlogger from off-camera, and Chase rolled his eyes.
“You’re a dumb intro!” He jokingly countered without missing a beat.
“What does that even mean?!” Chase snorted in response, lowering the camera slightly as he turned towards a young, light-brown-skinned man with dark, long braids going down his shoulder, wearing light blue jeans, a graphic tee, and a bomber jacket. His love. Castor.
“Boys, boys, we literally just started filming, and it’s already getting chaotic,” Someone else quipped. Chase aimed his camera towards a red-haired young woman going through a backpack on the back of a blue pickup. She looked like a witch in disguise with a moon phase top, a jacket littered with patches, green cargo pants, and boots.
“That means the fun is just starting, Ivs!” Chase cheered, turning the camera back to himself. “Anyways- Welcome to Bro Average!!! Where my lovely friends and I are doing what definitely no other YouTuber has done before-” Chase says sarcastically, but enthusiastically as he pans the camera to a rundown warehouse. The place alone gave off the vibes of a space only fools venture to. The rigid metal siding is rusted and peeling, streaked with years of rain and neglect, and broken windows watch like hollow eyes, some still clinging to shards of glass that glitter faintly in the dim light of late dusk. “And explore a spooky abandoned building for ghosts!! Just in time for October!”
“Supposedly.” Ivy teased.
“Ivy, you shush!” Chase yelled as he turned off the camera.
Chase exhales as he drops the YouTuber persona, practically shattering to the ground, and looks towards his best friend and boyfriend with a genuine smile. “Thank you guys again for joining me. You really didn’t have to.”
“And let you walk around an abandoned building all by yourself? That’s just asking for trouble.” Ivy says as she adjusts her backpack and glances up at the looming structure.
“Not to mention, it’s dangerous in general,” Castor added. “You sure this is safe, right, babe?”
Chase shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching with a mix of nerves and excitement. “Safe-ish. I mean, I did some research for the video, and no one’s been here in years, besides local teenagers and such, and the structure’s mostly intact.”
Ivy raises an eyebrow. “Mostly?”
Castor sighs, slipping his hand into Chase’s. “You know, your definition of ‘adventure’ is really just flirting with potential danger.”
Chase squeezes his hand, grateful for the grounding touch. “Danger is my middle name!”
They all laugh, the tension easing slightly as the wind whistles through the lot, rattling a nearby chain-link fence. They all paused, eyes flicking toward the sound.
“…Okay, that was actually creepy,” Ivy said first as she took a deep breath and started walking towards the entrance.
“We’ll be fine!” Chase said, leading the way with Castor’s hand in his. “Let’s just get in and get out before the ghosts get bored and leave.”
Inside was just as creepy, if not more so, than the outside; the air was thick with dust and the faint scent of mildew. Faded graffiti sprawled across cracked concrete walls, mingling with old safety signs, broken windows, and faded company logos. The place was filled with toppled filing cabinets, piles of trash, and machinery covered in filth. With the sun setting fast, the trio grabbed their flashlights from their bags and started looking around. Their footsteps echoed through the wreckage like whispers in a tomb. Each beam of light cast such strange-looking shadows that Chase had to remind himself that that was all they were. “This is sick! We’re going to go so viral if we catch a ghost.” Chase held the camera up to his eye with his free hand and started walking around the place, filming everything. The night vision was turned on, making it a tad easier for him to walk around the place without walking into crumbling furniture.
Castor, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be a tad tense as he glanced up some rusty stairs, aiming his flashlight upward and quickly walking towards Chase. "Why do white people always do the most dangerous shit like this?"
“For fun!” Ivy announced from further ahead in the warehouse, looking towards a hallway lined with a few doors, with her flashlight in one hand and an EMF meter detector in the other.
Chase snorted as both boys walked over to Ivy, who was clearly waiting for one of them to join her.
Strolling through the hallway littered with splintered wood and dust, the trio kept their steps light, the crunch beneath their boots sounding louder than any of them liked. Until Ivy’s EMF meter beeped, drawing her attention to a half-collapsed doorway. “It’s spiking,” she whispered, suddenly serious. Chase leaned in with the camera, filming the meter and then the doorway. All three were frozen, looking at the door, not wanting to utter a single word in case of being a horror cliche.
“Do you think it’s— BOO!” Chase suddenly shouted right behind Ivy’s ear, scaring both her and Castor. Cas nearly jumped out of his skin, and Ivy screamed, dropping her flashlight, then whipped around to smack the back of his head. “BRODY!”
Chase doubled over laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!! I couldn’t help it!”
“That was not funny!” Castor interjected, picking up Ivy’s flashlight.
“I know, I know! It’s totally not funny.” Chase agreed, but his ear-to-ear grin and shaking shoulders betrayed him.
“Fuck you!!” Ivy yelled, trying to hold back a laugh but giving up.
Chase aimed his camera at Ivy. “Smile for the camera, space girl!” Despite her glare and flushed cheeks, Ivy smirked for the camera, giving Chase the finger as he took her picture.
“You’re such an ass!” Ivy teased, grabbing her flashlight from Castor.
“Hehe! Here, I’ll make it up to you,” Chase said as he lowered the camera to look back at the picture. “When we leave to get food, I’ll–”
Chase suddenly froze, taking a closer look at his camera, then his eyes widened. His grin turned into a frightened stare, and his skin turned as white as a sheet.
“What? Did I blink?” Ivy said, confused, peeking at his camera.
“Love? What is it?” Castor leaned in.
There, right behind Ivy, just over her shoulder, was a blurry, tall, pale figure with no distinct features other than something around its neck, white dots for ‘eyes’, and an outstretched hand far too long reaching out to grab her.
Ivy’s breath hitched at the sight, instinctively inching closer to her friends. “That’s… Chase, that’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.” Chase harshly whispered. “I just took it!”
“You edited that in!”
“No, I certainly did not!!”
Castor’s flashlight flicked, and the EMF meter let out a sharp, high-pitched beep. That was enough for Castor to grab Ivy’s arm and push Chase forward out of the hallway.
“You two can continue this argument in the truck. We’re fuckinng leaving!!” The two didn’t protest as the trio picked up speed and left the warehouse.
The elevator dings onto floor 7 of the building and everybody is let out. The space is larger than three houses back home and lavishly furnished with beautiful hardwood and glass pieces. Everyone pours into the living room and Chase immediately throws the “shirt” off to the side allowing himself to breathe again.
He flops down on the dark green couch and groans. Shock waves of pain ripple through his bare chest as he breathes. That corset was far too tight, what was even the point of that?! He was still skinny without it, but maybe it was to make him “slender” he heard some of the prep team throw around that word. Back home it was seen as an incredibly good thing if you had a few pounds to spare.
A cold chill sends shivers down his spine reminding him he was still bare-chested. Something that he really didn’t like being unless he was with Stacy. It was just normal with her. Sure he knew she admired him- hell she was the most beautiful girl in Panem to him- but she never ogled him or made him feel like his exposed skin was fresh meat.
“Where in Panem are some comfortable clothes? Preferably my comfortable clothes?!” Chase shouts out to the room, not giving a shit if he was being rude or not. He was being sent to his death in a week, what did he care about other people's feelings?
"There are clothes for you in your rooms if you wish to change." Teefee huffs at his poor manners. Honestly poor manners or not, he deserves a lot better than Teefee’s awful attitude. And honestly, walking to his room might as well be walking back to District 7. Thousands of miles away and utterly unobtainable. It wasn’t going to happen.
“I’m not moving from this couch, Teefee.” Chase says as chucks a pillow in her general direction.
Jameson uses his cane to bat the pillow so it doesn't hit her, but she just huffs again and waves at one of the servants standing at the ready by the wall. The young man goes off without a word, most likely to Chase's room to fetch a change of clothes. He hears Ivy chuckling as she takes her shoes off and discards them on the floor, kicking them away with a groan. “Need a hand, Brody?”
“Yeah…” Chase groans. “And some new pants. “
Chase watches Jameson roll his eyes as he whispers to Teefee causing Chase to grow a genuine smile on his face. The man hobbles over to join Chase and Ivy on the couch, carefully sinking into the cushions with a groan. His leg must have been acting up. His face immediately lost most of its tension now that pressure was off of his leg.
"You both did good." Jameson reiterated, looking tired but the robotic voice from his chest had a neutral cheer that lightly called back more to a Capital accent. "Tomorrow is the first day of training. We'll talk more about it at breakfast tomorrow morning, so for now you can relax and scrub your makeup off. Teefee said dinner will be ready soon."
When he finished talking, the servant returned with two sets of clothes, one on each arm. Handing a matching simple soft yellow shirt and loose black pants to each tribute.
Ivy is the first to take the clothes, taking off the choker they gave her and pulling out any bobby pins that are hidden in her hair and discarding them on the floor. Teefee lets out another huff making both Chase and Ivy grin at each other as Ivy continues to do it.
Chase smiles at the attendant in thanks and throws on the shirt immediately. At least it’s yellow and soft. But it doesn’t reek of maple or pine, it smells of odd flowers and soap. It’s not his. It’s not normal. It’s Capitol. He stands up as he smooths out the shirt.
“I’m gonna go change out of these pants, do you want anything? Anything to eat?” He smiles over at Jameson.
Their mentor leans his head back and closes his eyes, waving Chase off as he props his leg up on the coffee table, "In a minute. Wipe that paint off your face, you look like you stepped out of a bad romance novel cover."
Chase gives a light chuckle though he's not quite sure what Jameson means. Wandering to his new bedroom he tugs off the wooden abomination that calls itself a flannel and struggles for a few minutes to untie the decorative harness around his hips. If he had a knife he would not hesitate to slash everything to pieces, but he manages. He tosses off the pants and puts the new ones on quickly. They’re soft and hardy, bringing him a sense of warmth that only his friends and family could bring.
He goes over to the sink and the water comes on like magic. Like it knows he’s there. Chase splashes the rose-scented water on his face and begins to scrub with bare hands, washing the skin-colored paint down the drain. He pats his face down dry with, what he can only assume is one of the fluffiest, warmest towels he’s ever experienced.
The boy looks back up at his reflection, he looks more like himself, now that everything is off. The dark circles are back under his eyes and his skin looks rough once more. The callouses on his hands are mostly gone but they’re still rough and ready to handle an ax. He doesn't bother with the strange shower- all of the buttons confuse him- so he just dunks his head under the sink tap to wash the products from his hair.
When Chase finishes he gives a soft smile to himself before going back out to the central living area, grabbing two of those orange fruits from a bowl on his way out.
Ivy must have gone back to her own room to change so he offers the orange to Jameson as he takes his place next to him on the couch.
Jameson opens one eye and quietly takes the offered fruit with a small smile. Chase realizes he took his thimbles off and they’re resting on the coffee table next to his leg. Jameson quietly peels the skin off and pops a slice into his mouth.
“Do you want anything more to eat? I can grab you something if you want.” Chase offers, just simply holding his fruit for now.
Jameson makes a face and shakes his head, about to sign again before remembering he doesn't have his translators on, and instead making a vague gesture towards the dining area that seems to read as, Yeah, but if you go over there they'll start talking to you. And I don't want to deal with that right now.
“Okay,” Chase leans back and closes his eyes. Someone will wake him when dinner is ready, he supposes. The chatting in the dining area was a low drone of white noise to Chase as he rolled the orange in his hands. Feeling the texture of the skin and its slight give.
After a few minutes of quiet, Jameson taps Chase's knee to get his attention. He opens his eyes and turns to his mentor with slightly raised brows in anticipation.
“Dinner?”
Jameson shakes his head with a grin, sitting up a bit to turn more towards Chase. He pauses a moment, not really sure how to start, but taps out in code on Chase's knee to the effect of, "Learn something new?"
“Uh, sure.” Chase nods. “But I’m not the brightest so I hope you’re a good teacher.”
Jameson gives him a small smirk before shifting to fully face Chase, one leg tucked under himself while the bad one hangs over the side of the couch.
He starts off by pointing to himself and using one hand to spell his name. "J. A. M. E. S. O. N." Then points to Chase and spells out his name.
With a smaller grin, Jameson tilts his head as if asking if Chase was still interested in learning the basic alphabet.
“Yeah, I think that would make things easier to communicate.” Chase nods and signs his name into his lap getting the feel for the language.
The two men take some time to learn how to spell Chase's name and half of the alphabet. Jameson is very patient and never seems to get upset or bothered when Chase fumbles. He just gently shows him the sign again and off they go. They practice until Teefee announces it's time for dinner. Then Jameson uses his cane to help him stand with a bit of effort, turning towards the bedrooms presumably to go get Ivy.
Chase takes a seat at the dining table and waits about thirty minutes, fiddling with Stacy's ring hanging from the chain that Tigris gave him.
Eventually, the two walk out and join the others at the dining table, which was laid with a feast of hams and vegetables and hearty roots.
Jameson sits between Chase and Ivy and quietly plates himself some food. Glancing at Chase with a look that said, "Don't bring it up" and glanced at Ivy quickly to indicate what he meant. Ivy looked like she had been crying for hours. And she might have been.
Chase nods and passes a few of the fruits over to the two of them. He puts a few deserts on his plate first followed by various meats and breads. The capitol was awful, fucking awful, don’t get him wrong, but man if he was fed this well every day, he’d definitely be more susceptible to the garbage propaganda that they spew out.
If the stylists and prep team notice the down energy in the room, they are very good at pretending not to. Chatting away with Teefee about silly unimportant things. Like if they had the exact shade of teal lipstick they wanted or not. Or if so-and-so were still having an affair that everyone seemed to know about already. It's all just noise. And the tributes from District 7 both old and new, sit quietly in each other's comforting company. Some of the last things from home they have are each other.
Chase eats most of his dinner in silence. He finds the random chatter to be distracting, uncomfortable even. He wants to get away from the fur and glitter and feathers that were so alien to him.
“Well, I’m fucking exhausted,” Chase says wiping his mouth with the back of his hand specifically to make Teefee gag. He’s honestly surprised that she hasn’t chastised him for swearing as much as he had. Maybe after 10 years of mentoring District 7, she was forced to get used to it.
"Mmmm... same. We did so little yet it was so much." Ivy looks over at Chase with the same tired eyes he has. She has eaten all her dinner and a few desserts before just resting her head on her arms just staring either off into space or at the luxury art pieces on the wall.
“Hey, why don’t you go to bed and get some rest? You deserve it.” Chase gives a small smile and squeezes her shoulder when he stands.
Ivy lifts her head from her arms and shakes her head. “I'll get nightmares, there's no rest in that.. plus what about you? Aren’t you tired?”
Chase shrugs “Nightmare-filled sleep is better than no sleep at all. Training starts tomorrow, and if you’re exhausted during training, people will notice.”
Ivy groans, and Chase can tell she wants to argue more, but she sighs in exhaustion.
"I hate that you're right, Brody." She pushes herself away from the table and stands up. "But you better get some rest as well! I won't be able to teach you how to shoot if you're tired."
“I will, don’t worry.”
Her lips form a tired smile as she grabs her dirty plate, and lets the attendant take it from her. For the first time her thank you is kind to the servant, and just like that Ivy walks back to her room.
Chase could feel the exhaustion and fatigue crawling over him, but he decided he needed to get the rumor mill started.
Back in 7, it was the easiest way to get what you wanted. People in the shops talking about their neighbors, then it would be the paper mill workers, then the crafters, then it would be the loggers until everyone knew about how the Mayor was cheating on his wife. It can’t be that different here. His eyes landed on the two who were leading the gossip earlier, they seemed like easy enough targets.
“Did you hear what Oiolyka did for her party?” The man says to the woman with a similar face.
“Only that it was a complete disaster. She didn’t even show up in the right colors and she was the one who insisted on the dress code.” She says, leaning in closer to the man with a conspiratory smile, “Do tell.”
“If you want some real drama, come to the districts,” Chase smirks, cutting into their conversation. “You won’t believe what goes on there.”
One of the two perks up and looks at Chase up and down then gives him the fakest smile he has ever seen. The man practically struts over like a model in front of cameras, holding a glass of something Chase can't even begin to guess what. Something colorful and way too sparkly to be consumed, Chase thinks. The man's extravagant moon-themed outfit and makeup are a show in and of itself as Chase tries not to get distracted by how ridiculous it is.
"No offense, but District gossip is always so bland and boring, it's always 'so and so stole this from this person and got karma' or 'this person ran from a peacekeeper, and it turns out they were sleeping together.' Like- we get. Been there and done that. Boring."
From behind, the woman comes up and punches the man's arm with a stern look. She looks just as ridiculous as her moon counterpart except her outfit and makeup are themed to the sun.
"Oh shush Lameer! You wouldn't even know good gossip even if you were looking at it!"
"Ow!! Dema!!" He squawks.
"Don't mind my brother, handsome!” Demali's attitude immediately changes when she looks at Chase, “Please, share if you'd like of course, and don't leave anything out!" Her shimmering yellow eyes were lovestruck and smitten. Chase has seen that face about a hundred times, especially when girls hung around the drop site. He and his friends carried big logs around working up a sweat, it always made the girls back home go wild.
Lameer just scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his drink- but still looking at Chase expecting a story.
“Someone nearly killed Ivy over a grade.” Chase lies through his teeth, but it’s to get the word out about Ivy. Anything to help District 7. He looks back to the man, with a solid smirk. “That juicy enough for you?”
The twins act as mirrors, looking at each other and then back to Chase with wide eyes. Both filled with intense morbid curiosity. It seems like Jameson tries to make an effort to ignore the exchange, but Chase does catch a glance of his ear tilting towards their conversation.
Lameer scowls at Chase, taking another sip of his drink, this time louder and longer but he doesn't disagree or leave. He stays and listens. "Who- who doesn't kill these days." He says dismissively.
"The redhead!?" Dema gasps genuinely, it's so animated Chase thinks it's fake for a second but judging by both their eyes- he's got them hooked. "But she's gorgeous! And the confidence she presented at the ceremony made my jaw DROP! But I wouldn't imagine- Please do tell~" Dema says, scooting closer to Chase, grabbing his arm in awe. Chase puts his hand over hers- not forgetting his own fake image of being a charmer- and smiles up at her.
“Well, you see, Ivy is so smart, brilliant even. You’d mistake her for District 3 if she wasn’t so good with an ax. Anyway, not the point, her brilliance is the point. I don’t know how it works here in your glorious Capitol schools, but if you’re smart, like as smart as Ivy is, you’re practically guaranteed a good job one day.”
Chase watches as Dema, in awe of his words, clearly falls for every little thing he says. He could say he went to the moon and she’d believe him. Well, maybe not that far but still. He looks over to her brother and then back to her.
“I don’t think your brother over there seems very interested, maybe I shouldn’t continue.”
Demali gasps in horror, "Well you can't just start and not finish! That's so rude, Chase!" She bats her golden eyes at him and Chase thinks for a second her eyelashes will fly away like a dragonfly. "Pretty please?"
Lameer rolls his eyes but looks at Chase, still intrigued. Perfect. "Oh just- just continue! Like what Dema said, it'd be rude not to." Lameer says trying to not seem interested, but his mask is slipping and Chase knows he's got them both.
“Oh, alright. Only for you.” Chase smiles and grabs her hands. “So this girl, she worked out in the forest with me. I didn’t know her all that well, but she also wasn’t the brightest in the world. She tried to hide a bunch of live squirrels in Ivy’s bag in hopes that one would bite her and make her sick. Obviously, it didn’t work because Ivy saw that her bag was moving, and let the squirrels loose. I think the girl got expelled, and the peacekeepers found it more funny than dangerous so she’ll be stuck in the woods with me. So it’s not all that bad for her.” Chase laughs.
The twins burst into identical high-pitched laughter that sets Chase on edge.
"There's no way that's true, darling." The brother countered while pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "How would they ever find the time to do such a thing?"
"What makes you so sure, Lamey? It's District 7! I'm certain they find so many ways to fill up their empty lives!" Demali giggles. "Isn't that right, love?" She smiles brilliantly, bouncing on her toes.
“Oh most certainly. The peacekeepers can be a bit…tough while we work but the second that shift is over, we know how to have fun. Music, dancing, love.” Perfect, a segue into his own life, his strengths. Time to market himself. He forces his face to remain in a bright smile.
For Willow. For Stacy. Can’t leave them alone. I promised. I promised.
Lameer taps one of his many rings against his glass, smiling so mischievously. "Well, for starters, way to go Ivy! Our brilliant queen and second, you surprised me darling~ You gave me a good story to tell at the next party!" Lameer boasts, taking another sip at his glass and winking at Chase.
Chase hopes his skin doesn't visibly crawl. “Oh, I’m so glad! Do you want another?” He smiles picking up his own glass of shimmering liquid from a tray offered by a servant and swirls it lightly. “I mean it’s not quite as interesting but, hey, it’s a story.” Chase tries to take a sip but immediately his body wants to reject the sickly sweetness. He forces himself to swallow it down alongside his pride.
"Oh well, aren't you spoiling us!! Please, darling, tell us while I go get my sister and I a drink." Lameer says walking away with such power and confidence.
"My usual please!" Demali calls back and then giggles like an innocent schoolgirl. "Is the story about you and Ivy?! Tell us! Tell us!”
“Oh no, nothing that interesting I'm afraid. I think those are stories for another day. I was going to talk about my baby and fiancée.” Chase pretends to take another sip while waiting for their reaction.
Demali covers her face with a faint gasp, her eyes sparkling, "You have a fiancée?”
"You’re a father?!" Lameer says quite loudly coming back with two fresh drinks in his hand. Almost dropped them with how stunned he was. Chase held back a smirk, this was going better than he could have ever planned.
“Oh, yeah, back in Seven, that woman who was sobbing at my reaping, that’s my fiancée, Stacy. She’s pregnant with our child.“ He watches as intrigue gleams in their eyes. Like moths to a flame. They were definitely going to tell all their friends tomorrow, and those friends would tell everybody they knew. Chase smiles towards the twins, his eyes sparkling as he holds his bleeding heart in his rough hands, “She's my whole world, ya'know. Beautiful and smarter than I could ever dream to be. It's a miracle that she said yes to me in the first place.” He’ll keep the bulk of everything between them secret, but those little moments he’ll give out. The Capitol will eat it up. Hopefully.
Lameer wipes an actual tear away this time, setting both drinks down next to his sister to applaud for Chase, "Awwww! You're gonna be a daddy?! Oh, how bittersweet.”
“Well, if I have enough sponsors and enough luck, I think I might win.” Chase forces his mask to stay up. He takes a deep breath and continues. “I have to win.”
"And you will win!! I'll bet on you to win- I will cheer for both of you!!" Demali says, snapping her fingers happily.
“Well make sure to tell your friends that District Seven is gonna take it home this year.”
The twins laugh again as they walk away, chattering nonsense as the other members of the prep team and stylists follow them out the door. As soon as it closes on their conversation Jameson turns around and gives Chase a smirk. "You really think you can keep that act up, Chase? That was exhausting from here." He laughed through his nose, but his body language implied that he was impressed.
Chase groans, letting his head hit the table as soon as he sits back down. He wraps his arms around his face blocking out any light that might hit his eyes. “I don’t have a choice. I want to live. I want to go home.”
Chase can't see it but he hears Jameson stand. The young man gently pats Chase's shoulder as he walks away from the dining table.
“Goodnight, James.”
°○°○°○°
"Remember, while you're training, try to keep your strengths close to your chest. The others will be watching to see what you can do. So instead, try to focus on upping your skills in other departments. Learn something new that'll keep you alive." Jameson explained that morning at breakfast and Teefee reiterated in a higher pitch while riding down the elevator with them.
The combat and survival training was located under the tribute center. It was filled with fighting rings, target practice, and obstacle courses. Alongside them were different stations to teach basic survival. How to start a fire, how to properly cook trapped food, identify plants and berries, how to treat a wound- the list went on. Each station was manned by a trainer from the Capitol ready to teach those who wanted to learn.
Chase looks over at Ivy and gives a small smile. He’s already decided that he’s going to focus on the basics of survival training. He’s good with an ax and okay with knives. But it’s the basics that he needs to focus on. Finding food, shelter, water. He can’t rely on sponsors for everything. He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.
She smiles back at Chase, taking his hand for a moment and squeezes it. A sign of reassurance that Chase returns easily.
Stepping onto the training floor, most eyes glance in their direction. Some only briefly and with disinterest. But others were laced with a mixture of curiosity and hunger.
Chase watches the already forming Career pack from afar, assessing the biggest threats. They’re all definitely younger than him, with the youngest looking about 15. His eyes lock onto the District Two boy for just a moment, but Chase quickly looks away and focuses back on the knots on his hands.
“Two keeps staring at us,” Chase whispers to Ivy.
The District Two boy's intentions are unclear to Chase because every time he looks at the boy, he turns his head away, going back to what he was doing before. In this immediate case, it was throwing knives at dummies.
"Mmm?" Ivy doesn't look away from her knot at first, but when she looks up to see the boy Chase is referring to she is quick to look away. "Oh, you're right. Maybe he's just studying us like the others? Or can you tell that it's something else?" She whispers at Chase, going in to practice on another knot.
“He smiled at me at the parade and he’s the only other 18-year-old here. Do you think you can work your Ivy Charm on him? Get him on our side? James said we need more allies and he's already eyeing us.”
"A Career with us? I mean- it would give us an advantage." Ivy mutters softly as she keeps sealing glimpses at the boy. His all lean muscular body and tall stature come off as a little intimidating, but he's still just a kid like the rest of them. "He- he doesn't seem like a talkative kind of guy but I can try." Ivy shrugs.
“Thanks. You’ve definitely got more charm than I do.”
"Should I just- train almost next to him til he says something?" Ivy suggests, getting up and casually stretching.
"I don't know, you're the one who's good at making friends." Chase yanks the rope a bit too hard leaving a small burn on his hand. "Just, be safe. Come back to me if you think he's trouble.”
"We're in a whole new forest, Brody" Ivy takes a quick, subtle breath and nods. "But I can do it."
Ivy finishes stretching and Chase watches as she casually walks over to the station the boy is at, keeping her distance by one dummy apart. He watches the trainer briefly walk her through, then she starts throwing her own knives.
At first, it seems like the boy from 2 is just going to ignore Ivy, but from a distance, Chase watches as after they both empty their hands of knives the boy saunters over to her. Seemingly at ease and relaxed. Well, as relaxed as someone probably could be in a place like this. But it's forbidden for the tributes to fight each other outside the games. Still, this boy looked like he was almost prowling towards Ivy like a wild dog on a hunt.
There was almost a light laugh in the boy's tone as he spoke. It didn't seem to fit in his throat and Chase strains his ears to listen to their conversation.
"You're pretty good, Seven! But you're using too much of your shoulder." The boy takes back the set of throwing knives from the station observers once they are collected and holds one up between himself and Ivy. The blade glitters under the stark white lights and a shine is reflected back into his bright green eyes. "It doesn't take much force. It's all in the wrist." He grins, turning and throwing the knife into the chest of the dummy, off-center.
The boy gives her an almost charming smile, but something about it doesn't sit right with Chase. "Try again." Two says, passing one of the knives to Ivy with the handle facing her. The boy seemed friendly enough though. The interaction was bizarre to be sure, but maybe it was just because he was a District 2 career. They aren't exactly known for being helpful to people from the “lower districts.”
Ivy gives the boy a matching grin as she throws the next knife and hits the outer ring of the target. "Guess I never thought knives would be harder to throw than axes." She giggles and bats her eyelashes. Chase was impressed, she was a lot better at this than he thought.
“They're a lot lighter, it's okay. Like this.” The boy squares up to the target and extends his arm with a knife to aim before pulling back and hitting the target in the center.
Ivy asserts her presence and takes a small step toward him with a small smile, "What's your name, Two?”
The boy grins down at her, holding out a free hand to shake, "Anti. Anti Slate. I would ask the same, but I think your uh, stylist was a bit.. on the nose with the embellishments of your costume."
“He told me it was an opportunity he couldn't ignore. Poison Ivy, he nicknamed me~" Ivy says as she throws another knife at the dummy, but it skits past its shoulder. "Cinder is my last name.”
"I've been told it's always the pretty plants and flowers that are the most deadly," Anti says, balancing the tip of a knife on his finger. "Do you think that's true, Ivy?" He asks with an almost impish grin as he tips the knife to catch the handle- turning and throwing it in a single fluid motion. This time, sending the knife into the center of the dummy's throat.
Chase can't help but jump.
But Ivy isn't phased at all or pretends to not be as she picks up two more knives and replies, "They could be! Nature's deadliest plants are always so cleverly disguised to be beautiful." She smiles at him again almost flirtatious, "Though, if you know your way around... you won't be as endangered~”
Anti takes the other knife from her, absently twirling it between his fingers with precision. "Would you be willing to show me?" He asks with a raised brow. "Show me which plants I can eat without choking." Anti lowers his voice and Chase can't catch what he whispers to Ivy before he straightens his back and throws the knife again- lodging it into the target's leg.
"Tempting, I will admit~" Ivy smirks, unaware that she copies Anti when straightening her back and throwing her knife at the dummy, lodging it in its chest. Through the heart. "Though if I may add, considering where we stand, how do I know my teammate and I won't end up like that dummy?”
"Aww, you think I'd be that cold, Poison Ivy?" Anti presses a free hand in mock hurt to his chest. Ivy raises a brow. "You're probably right,” He relents, “But I think you two pose a bigger threat than you think." He grins looking over to Chase which makes Chase's blood run cold. But he's still talking to Ivy when he says "He seems pretty strong, yeah? Could probably cut through someone like a tree if given the chance. And you," He smiles wickedly when he turns back to look directly at her two pairs of brilliant green eyes locking, "You seem like you can handle yourself. Clever as well. So why not keep my enemies close?" Anti leans back on his heels, twirling a knife around his fingers and sending a wink to Chase across the room. Anti holds out the knife between them both, tip facing the floor, "Think about it." He says cooly, letting the knife drop and point of it sticking right into the floor as Anti walks off to join the girl from his district.
Chase watches as Ivy looks down at the knife, picks it up, and throws it at the dummy with a small burst of emotion. It hits the very center.
It seems like Ivy is going to stay at knife throwing for a minute so Chase keeps weaving the rope in his hands into different types of snares. He's not very good at it. Ivy's encounter with Anti was a lot, to say the least, but Anti was obviously capable of holding his own. Maybe he could keep them both alive longer?
Chase looks up to check out the other tributes they will be up against soon. The tributes from Six at the camouflage station, both from One doing poorly at archery- a small collection of the younger tributes lined up to try the obstacle course.
It hits Chase again that the majority of kids this year were under 18. Maybe 17 at the oldest but still, it made his chest tighten. All of their odds were supposed to be better than this. That 14 and 15-year-olds should have had a few more years before they got really nervous about their names being drawn. But what did Chase know, really? They probably had their own families they needed to take the tessere for. And besides, he thought his own odds were better because he had friends with larger families who needed more than just him and his dad. Despicable. Maybe it's good that he was the one picked.
Chase is brought back to attention as a body crouches beside him, takes a piece of rope next to his foot, and walks away. The knot-tying instructor calls out to the boy to stop but he keeps walking.
Chase curiously watches as a boy with a number 4 and a long braid going down his back strides over to a girl with the same number on her uniform. He hands the thin rope to her and they share a few words, the boy's back still to Chase. He watches as the girl ties the cord to the top of a trident, just under the head of spokes, and hands the weapon over to the boy, who nods and takes a position by another set of targets. He throws the trident with such force that it nearly knocks the dummy over, but with a yank, the practice dummy flies back towards the boy who is waiting with a knife in his other hand.
Chase blinks as the boy drops both the knife and trident, leaving the dummy to collapse as he swipes his braid decorated with a few small beads off his shoulder. Chase only catches the profile of the boy's face but he had to admit that he was... handsome. Light brown skin and pretty eyes to match.
Like the boy from Two- Anti- when the boy from Four glances at Chase he immediately averts his gaze, but this time the tips of his ears turn pink from… something. Some other emotion Chase didn't have time to pin because Ivy was walking back over to him.
“Hey Iv.” He says finishing off the knot of the noose he was making- much to the bemusement of the trainer. “Anything good from Two?”
Ivy shifts, slightly uncomfortable as she crouches next to Chase again. "Umm.. the whole thing felt kind of off, to be honest." Ivy clears her throat but he still catches the slight warble. "His name is Anti Slate. He's clearly good with knives and is very strong. I felt it in his handshake- like he could easily snap my bones if he wanted to… He asked if I could show him what plants are good to eat or to avoid. Towards the end though.. he said I seemed like I could handle my own. So ‘why not keep my enemies close’." Ivy whispers rubbing the back of her neck, "He kept eyeing you though, even winked. The whole thing was fucking weird.”
“I saw that.” Chase sighs, “Well the career pack doesn’t look quite as deadly this year. I’ve had my eye on the boy from One, and he’s missed all the shots he took on the bow. But we’ll have to wait and see for his evaluations if that’s true.” Chase hands over the rope to Ivy, letting her have a turn. “I think we should practice fire starting next.” He whispers.
Ivy sighs clearly trying to move on from the moment. "Yeah.. yeah ok! I can get behind that.”
“Then after that, you have to teach me edible plants before you teach Anti. I know we’re a team but I want to help you hunt and gather.”
"Aw thanks, Brody! Plus if we separate, which will happen at least once I'm sure, it'll be one less thing to worry about." Ivy says practicing how to tie a knot tight to a post. "Here's a general tip to keep in mind: No matter how hungry or thirsty you are, stop and check what you're about to eat. That impulse could be the death of you if you don't think twice.”
“I’ll always run it by you, don’t worry.” Chase nods over to the fire-making station behind them. He really needs Ivy to show him how to survive, and apparently throw knives. Since when was she adept in knives?! Good thing she has so much empathy, or else he’d have a knife in his back from day one.
They move over and find someone already at the fire station, a skinny girl with dark skin and hair up in two buns. She glances nervously at Chase and Ivy approaching but she looks back down at her own hands, trying her best to use a flint and steel in shaky fingers. She couldn’t be younger than 12, but even then she looked 10, maybe even nine due to her stature. Chase felt his heart break into pieces as she shook.
The instructor woman greets them with a warm smile and gestures to all of the supplies in front of them. No matches or lighters in sight, but there was kindling, sticks, twine, a small collection of stones, and a warped piece of glass- the woman showed them how they could use unconventional tactics to get a fire going.
The girl- from 12 by the number on her uniform- kept darting her eyes from her own work to Chase and Ivy. Too nervous to speak first so Chase gently cleared his throat.
“Here, take a deep breath, it’ll help with your hands. And move closer, you want the sparks to hit the grass first then move to the bigger sticks.” Chase doesn’t know why the instructor isn’t telling her any of this. He scoots over towards her and guides her hands closer to the kindling. Every part of this feels like an antithesis to everything he’s learned. In 7, you learn everything you can to not start fires. To not destroy the entire district's economy and cause everyone to either burn up or starve. Fire was bad everywhere, but they were, unfortunately, devastatingly common in District 7 during the summer months.
The girl looks at him warily, but takes a deep breath, cheeks puffing out as she does what he says. There is a single spark for her efforts. She gasps in delight and does it again, this time the sparks catching onto the dry grass. She let out a cheer and smiled brightly at Chase who added some dry twigs.
"Thank you." Her voice was quiet but genuine. Soft-spoken. "You're both from Seven, right?”
“Yeah, you’re from 12? What’s your name?” Chase adds a few more sticks to the fire letting it all grow and catch to the bigger logs.
The girl nods, "Nima. What's it like being in the trees all day?" She quietly asks, before quickly adding as a second thought, "What are your names?”
“Uh, well it's quite a view once you get up top. And Chase, Chase Brody. And this is Ivy.”
"Nice to meet you, Nima! And yeah, the view is incredible, especially for sunsets." Ivy says, trying to work on starting her own small fire.
"That sounds nice!" Nima says, using an extra stick to poke the logs around a little. "There's a big fence around 12. We're forbidden to go into the woods, there are wild dogs and bears in there." She explains, voice getting softer like she's walking away from them. Nima throws more grass into the flames and watches as it burns and curls into ashes.
The instructor warns them to not make the fire bigger as they retrieve a small canister of some kind. With the press of a button a small spray of light green foam coats and put out the fire quickly. They clear away the ruined logs and give them fresh ones to try again.
“Oh yeah, we see bears too from time to time.” Chase picks up the conversation for once, “Most of the time it’s behind district lines, but sometimes a bear will wander into our logging forests. Those are the best days to work on shifts.”
He doesn't say it out loud, but the specific reason he loves it when bears wander through their section of the woods is because it scares off the peacekeepers who threaten them to work. The peacekeepers get chased around on the ground while the lumberjacks get to rest up in the trees and enjoy the longer lunch break and show.
Nima's eyes widen slightly, "Really? That's kinda cool." She looks back down at the flint and steel in her hands, this time getting a spark to catch the first try. "My pa tried going past the fence once, to try and hunt in the winter. But he was chased out by.. something." She knit her brows together trying to recall the memory, "Whatever it was, it had teeth.”
“Is he okay? I mean, can he still work in the mines, or…” Chase looks at the small girl and then back to Ivy. Her eyes meet his and she narrows them slightly in warning but it's too late. There’s no way he’s gonna let her be all alone during this. If Nima is gonna die, let her die surrounded by friendships and with her stomach full. He's talked to her for maybe 2 minutes and has already made up his mind.
Nima shakes her head, "The infection killed him." She said it so simply, so detached. "We don't go past the fence anymore.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Well um, my mom died when I was young too.” Chase adds a few more branches to the kindling and lets it grow again. “So I kinda get it.”
Ivy looks at Chase with worried eyes as she finally sparks her little fire, adding more dead sticks to it. "How old are you hun?”
“Twelve.”
Shit. She’s just a kid. They’re all kids, but she is a kid. Chase scoots carefully closer to her, knowing that he must be seen like a big predator in her eyes so he tries to remain open.
“Hey, why don’t you come with us to the next station? Once Ivy can get a fire started she’s gonna teach me how to find edible plants. You should join us.”
Nima looks back and forth between the two of them and Chase has to do pretty much everything he can not to scoop her up and take her with him. She eventually nods, lighting up Chase’s face.
Ivy smiles at Nima and Chase, "I'm more than happy to teach you as well, hun! With all our skills, we can keep each other safe." She says sweetly, Ivy's fire keeps going out too quickly so she puts a bigger log on it.
“Iv-don’t smoother it. You gotta add a small fuel first. Here, try some pine needles.” Chase helps Ivy before he looks down at Nima again as she is focusing on her fire.
He silently hopes her death is swift. That she dies in the first ten seconds so she won’t have to be scared and alone for days and days. But maybe she could come with him and Iv, she’s so small and helpless in his eyes. Chase can’t help but latch onto the small girl and want to protect her.
He couldn't help but think of home. Of Stacy and little Willow who will be joining the world soon if he was there or not. Chase wondered what she would be like. Will Willow have her mother's eyes or his? Will she be a ball of sunshine and energy or more reserved and quiet? Chase looks at Nima and gently wonders what Willow will be like when she gets older.
If she gets older.
If he gets the chance to see her grow up.
"Make a spark and put small fuel so it stays lit, right?”
Shaking himself from his thoughts Chase responds to Ivy, "Uh- y-yeah." He clears his throat. "Yeah. Spark on the grass, small twigs, and then larger as it catches.” Chase abruptly stands, wanting to get away from his own thoughts, “Let's try out the plants.” He holds a hand out to Nima as an offering for her to join.
The frail girl hesitates but takes his hand, following him and Ivy to the next station with a small smile.
The three tributes walk over to the plant identification station which is just a big screen with various plants and their effects. A matching game of sorts.
Okay, a matching game. This should be easy. Chase picks a plant that he thinks is safe and matches it with what he assumes to be its match, and a big red X flashes up on the screen showing that he failed. Okay, okay, this is the first round, no pressure. He tries again. And again, and again, and again. And every single time he fails the screen shines red onto his face. He looks over at Ivy with a sense of helplessness but makes sure that Nima doesn’t see. Why is he failing? Why can’t he get this? It’s just plants! He’s worked with giant plants for the last five years! How is this so difficult?!
After a few more failed attempts and reassuring pats on the back from Ivy that felt more demoralizing than intended, Nima taps on Chase's arm, "Can I try?" She asks quietly.
Cheeks flared red in embarrassment and hoped another failed X would cover it up. Chase just steps aside with his hands up in defeat.
Nima steps in front of the console and can barely see the screen in front of her. Standing on her tiptoes, she swiftly begins matching the different plants together. Each time the pairs match they flash green. She's not as quick as other tributes, whom Chase has seen playing this, but that's mostly because she was so small she had to reach farther to click the buttons.
Chase's shoulders slump in utter defeat and Ivy pats his back again, "Hey hey it's ok! No one is perfect at anything on the first go plus a lot of plants look more alike than you realize!” Ivy said, trying to cheer up her district partner.
Once Nima finishes the game, the whole screen turns green with a big check mark. The girl beams, turning and smiling brightly at Chase and Ivy, "I got it!”
Chase can hear Ivy holding back a laugh, “Good uh- Good job, honey! You got them all right!" Ivy looks over at Chase who is probably looking absolutely dejected at the fact a 12-year-old got them all right on the first try. "Well uh heh.. what you lack in skill, you make up for in great sparkling personality at least!!" Ivy says, trying so hard to cheer up Chase, but she can't stop a snort from coming out.
Chase sighs and gives back a smile to Ivy. He knows she means well. He knows she’s joking but it still cuts deep. He looks back towards the axes, maybe he should have a go at that, to prove that he’s worthy of something. But then he looks down at Nima, her cute little face and big brown eyes. He kneels down to her level and gives a smile.
“You’re pretty good at this, you know anything about first aid?”
Nima smiles shyly, hands folding behind her back, "Only some. My mama is a healer, and since most folks can't afford the doctors they go to her. She taught me all about plants and even how to use some of them for medicine." She puffs her chest a bit with pride as she talks about her mother, "She's really kind and smart. She even has a medicinal herb garden growing in our windows back home.”
Well, looks like they got their own little pack going. Ivy and Nima could get food so he wouldn’t starve to death, and Chase could protect the two of them. They’d make a good team as long as they outlast the others. Yeah. Yeah! With the two of them, Chase could stand a chance. Nima could stand a chance.
“Well, Ivy and I have an alliance. Do you want in?”
Nima's eyes widen in shock, quickly looking around the room to see who heard before locking eyes with Chase, "You're being serious?" She seems weary, and cautious as if she's waiting for the punchline to a cruel prank.
“I’m being serious.” Chase smiles and gives her hands a small squeeze “I’m no good at the smart things, first aid, finding food. But I’m strong and pretty good at protecting the people I care about. So what do you say, kid?”
Please say yes. He thinks, begs to himself. He can’t let this kid die. He can’t let her be scared and alone. He can’t let the Capitol win this time, and take this child’s life.
Ivy stands behind Chase, putting both hands on his shoulders and smiling at the small girl from District 12.
A small smile creeps across Nima's face, "O-Okay." She whispers, bouncing slightly on her heels at the prospect of people wanting to protect her. "We can make a plan at lunch.”
In the corner of Chase's eye a shadow darts out of view. When he glances to see who it was, they were already gone. He tried to shake it off and smile brighter at Nima, "That sounds good. Shake on it?" He asks, putting his hand out between them.
Nima laughs, a light twinkling sound as she clasps her hand in Chase's, shaking as firmly as she could muster.
Ivy Cinders! A very beloved OC made by me, @v-septiceye , and @itsonlyparker !!
Ivy is a down to earth young woman with her eyes always gazing towards the stars. She's the younger of the Cinder sisters and childhood best friend to Chase. The two of them would explore the woods and stay out late to watch meteor showers. We love sticking her and our other OC Castor into Situations and AUs. If you want to know more about her, feel free to ask!!
Magma doodles and some other sketches under the cut! (mild warning for a lil titty at the end)
The sun finally breaks over the mountain horizon and it seems to bring the train to life with it. Attendants glide in and out of the dining car, bringing in breakfast foods and drinks and replacing the broken vase and glasses without a word.
Around 10 AM Teefee and Ivy join Jameson and Chase at the table. Ivy looks like she didn't sleep a wink and Teefee is bewildered to find the two of them covered in wood shavings. Chase can't help but flick a shaving at Ivy with a small grin as she takes a seat next to him, giving a weak attempt at a grin as she rubs her eyes tiredly. Teefee huffs and pours herself a large cup of coffee with half of it being cream.
"Today is going to be so much fun!" Teefee sings like a chattering squirrel. Today's outfit was just as ridiculous as yesterday's, this time giving her the appearance of a blue cotton-covered cloud with, of course, streaks of pink glitter. "Once we arrive in the Capitol you will immediately be sent to meet your prep team and stylists so they can prepare you for the opening ceremony!" The woman explains, and Chase wonders two things: how she can hold a pen with such ridiculously long and decorated nails, and how any human being can be this chipper so early in the morning. He's tempted to try the coffee, but it smells far too bitter, even with only a dash mixed into a mug of hot chocolate.
Jameson had retrieved his thimbles when Ivy and Teefee first arrived and he continues Miss. Whispers’ description of the day to come, "Don't resist what they do to you in the remake center. It will hurt a bit, but these are professionals and know how to make you look pretty for the people," Chase caught Jameson actively resisting rolling his eyes at his own words, "We talked about it a little yesterday, but did we decide what angle you two are going to present yourselves? Bold and hostile, clever and witty, charming and sexy?" He does allow himself a grimace at that, "Unfortunately you're both a bit rugged to pull off sweet and innocent, so we may have to pivot.”
It's obvious he despises talking like this, especially since Chase has seen a truer side to Jameson. But with Teefee in the room, Chase assumes he has put his pleasant mentor mask back on tight and talk Capitol to get by. Poor guy.
"The choice is yours but we need to send word to your stylists so they can make adjustments to fit your performance demeanor." Jameson finishes, taking a sip from a cup filled with amber-colored tea.
“I-I honestly don’t know. But back in Seven a lot of people thought I was pretty handsome and fun,” Chase shrugs, unconvinced by his own words, “I got asked out a lot but I only really had eyes for Stacy so I always said no.”
The idea of flirting with Capitol citizens honestly wasn’t the worst idea. He’s seen the Careers do it about a dozen times through this life and flirts always got the biggest sponsors. He remembers one year when a tribute from District 1 won in five days because he kept getting sponsor after sponsor. Food, water, new weapons, he got it all. All because he played up the charm with a pretty face to boost.
"Yeah, a real ladies' man back in school!" Ivy jokes with a chuckle as she looks over the breakfast table, "I also had my fair share of getting asked out, though I think guys saw me as more naive and.. fragile." Ivy grits her teeth as she says that.
“But I’m also gonna be a dad, I think that I have more to lose than just my life. I don’t think many other people can say that.” Chase offers.
“Well, the two flirts of District 7 might be a halfway decent angle.” Ivy groans, pressing her forehead against the table. Chase slides the plate of the orange fruit towards her and when she looks up he nods toward it. You should eat.
Ivy looks between the oranges and Chase, her eyes asking if it's really ok to take it. He nods again and nudges the plate closer. She gives Chase a weak smile and hesitantly picks up an orange wedge. She examines the rare fruit and pops it in her mouth. Eyes sparkling the same way Chase's must have looked when he first tried it.
Jameson sighs quietly across from them, "Seems like it's probably our best shot. Okay, Miss Whisper, please send notice to the stylists as soon as possible." He skewers his fork through a sausage and pops it in his mouth. "Just be aware that if either of you make it out, these personas will follow you forever. Do you understand?"
Chase and Ivy glance at each other, orange slices in each of their hands. Where did that come from? Jameson probably knows what he's talking about, but it was somewhat hard to grasp the context outside of what they can only assume.
“Well, having a kid is pretty permanent too. I’d say that part of me would follow me, games or not.” Chase shrugs and lets the fruit burst on his tongue.
Ivy's attention fixed on Jameson, she gives a sad nod, “I-... I understand. But it's what we gotta do to survive, right?”
Jameson's expression was stiff, but he gave a nod in return.
Before the silence broken up by forks scraping against plates could stretch too long Chase speaks up, “Speaking of stylists, is it going to hurt? Jameson mentioned it hurting.”
"Oh not much!" Teefee exclaims, leaping at the opportunity to fill the quiet, "Jameson, the jokester, was just kidding! It's not so bad." She takes a sip of her coffee, pinky out, and picks up her little silver clipboard to look over the schedule absent-mindedly. "It can even be quite relaxing! I went and got my eyebrows done a week ago and it only hurt a little!" She smiled brightly.
Jameson levels both of the tributes a flat look but says nothing.
“Okay, are we talking ‘splinter pain,’ ‘I just feel from 10 feet’ pain, or ‘Holy fucking shit a tree just fell on me and my ribs are broken’ pain?” He barely even acknowledges Teefee as she talks, keeping his full attention on Jameson. This annoys the woman, but Chase tries to ignore her.
Jameson looks up to the roof of the train car to think before signing in response, "Intense bathing, waxing off all your body hair, nail filing, hair cut..." He trails off, and Chase wants to reach out but keeps to himself this time, busying his hands with loading a ham steak and some kind of fried potato onto his plate.
Chase can see Ivy's eyes widen before Jameson drifts away, “Sooooo splinter pain times 10 and all over our bodies... greeeeaaaaat,” She says sarcastically as she peels another orange with subtly trembling fingers.
“Here, Iv, let me.” Chase mumbles and takes the fruit from her, but before she could protest he was already peeling the rind off and laying the slices on her plate. She fidgets with her necklace again and nods towards him with a small smile. Thanks, her eyes say silently as Chase picks up the talking, “So, stylist, parade, training, then interviews? Is that right?” He asks Jameson, but he's still unresponsive.
"Yes, that's the short of it!" Teefee nods, teeth white as snow as she takes over the conversation, not wanting to be left out. "Each event takes its own day and then training takes roughly under a week."
“So in total, we have seven-ish days to win the Capitol over. Right?” Ivy asks quietly.
“Right! So at this time be prepared to do your very very best for the cameras! Everyone will be watching you.” It's hard to tell if she was trying to comfort or threaten the two of them, but with Teefee it seems like it could go either way. The image of sugar-coated barbed wire flits through Chase's mind as he watches the two talk.
Quickly Chase tunes out their conversation with an internal roll of his eyes and reaches over to quietly take Jameson's still hand in his. That seemed to work before. Maybe James needs as much comfort as he does right now. Watching potentially two kids die year after year must be draining, to say the least.
Jameson doesn't immediately respond, but he does squeeze Chase's hand in return.
"We'll be at the train station by nine, so you both should be dressed and ready to greet the people of the Capitol! The city is dazzling, children. You're going to love it!" Teefee giggles. Actually giggles. It's high-pitched like a young schoolgirl's. Playful and innocent despite coming from someone who watches children slaughter each other for entertainment every year.
The entire train car getting plunged into darkness is what seems to jolt Jameson back into his own body and Chase holds his hand a bit tighter. Their eyes are locked in mild fear as the train pulls back out of the tunnel, spitting them all out into the mountain-surrounded boundaries of the Capitol.
°○°○°○°
Jameson's electronic words bounce around Chase's head as he clenches his jaw to suppress a yelp of pain, Don't resist what they do to you. Grit your teeth and bear it and it'll be over sooner.
"You kids from District Seven always have so much body hair!!" One of the members of the prep team with their skin dyed purple, Toynia, exclaims as she prepares another wax strip while two others buzz around Chase like tracker-jackers.
He's lying down on a table with his skin glowing a raw pink from being scrubbed down hard. His nails were filed into perfect ovals with no more cracks to be seen, and much to his dismay his beard was completely gone. They shaved most of it off before rubbing a thick cream that smelled like chemicals on the stubble and shining a weird light over his lower face. With another wash of more goo, Chase felt like he was more akin to a prepared turkey than an 18-year-old boy.
They haven't allowed him to look at himself just yet, trying to get him to a "beauty base zero" state so his stylist can see exactly what she's working with in his natural state. If the Capitol's standards of natural beauty were looking like he rolled out of bed looking ready to get married and smelling like roses, Chase wonders what their standard of being grubby-looking meant. Because certainly he's heard one of his prep team members chattering on about how one year a girl had so much gunk under her bitten nails she gagged.
The only way Chase was able to keep his mouth shut was by locking his jaw shut.
By the time these strangers are done, he feels completely exposed. His face was as fresh as the day he was born, and every inch of him scrubbed to sparkling. They took all his clothes from his home, including his father's flannel he gave him years ago, even after he begged them not to. He pleaded for them to at the very least give it to Jameson to hold onto. The prep team just laughed in his face and giggled amongst each other. Little chattering birds and probably with the same amount of if not less empathy.
Chase sat there on the table completely naked except for a nice thick robe that they were kind enough to supply. Thank god for that at least.
He felt bare without his stuff, without his beard, and without his things. He twists Stacy's ring around his pinky finger as he stares at the wall across from him, thanking whoever was listening that he was able to at least hold onto this one precious piece of home.
To Chase, the completely white chamber felt almost akin to a cage. A small, bare cage you’d maybe keep a dog in. But even the dogs here seemed to be treated better than all of the tributes. Certainly, they were more well-fed than any of the humans were back home.
Oh god, home. Chase would give just about anything to be back home right now. To have a peacekeeper shouting at him to climb faster or to stay in line. Hell, he’d even let them flog him again if it meant that he’d be back in District 7. His body itches to run into the familiar woods and get lost in the trees. He knows he wouldn't get far, but getting shot amongst the pine sounds far more merciful right now than getting paraded around before his inevitably much more gruesome demise. At least at home, he could die with some dignity. Will they even recognize him when his body gets returned in a box after the games?
It takes a while for Chase to even consider that they had forgotten about him here, until eventually, somebody enters through a nearly invisible door. Chase schools his face to not instantly glare at the woman before him who was to be his stylist.
She was tall, very tall, and fashionably thin as opposed to the dying-of-starvation thin Chase was personally more acquainted with. She wears an oversized fur jacket that hangs off her slender shoulders. Blonde hair was styled into two triangular buns on top of her head that brought to mind some kind of animal in Chase's head. Was that her real hair or just a wig? It was hard to tell the difference. Her spiked heels added even more height to her figure so she towers several inches over Chase even when he finally stands reluctantly to greet her.
He doesn’t know whether to stick his hand out to shake her hand or just wait for her to speak. He just stands still as she examines his body and does his best not to squirm.
The woman at first doesn't say anything as she just circles chase, eyeing him, taking him in. Like an animal circling its prey, which is fitting with her facial tattoos making it look like she is in fact some kind of cat. A tiger is the first thing that comes to mind, though Chase has never seen one in person. Maybe it was a photograph? Whatever. She stops circling and stands in front of him about two feet away. Chase has to tilt his head up to look her in the eye.
"It's very nice to meet you, Chase. My name is Tigris and I will be your stylist. I hope the process has been... bearable for you."
Her voice sounds very different compared to the prep team members. Their voices were so high, cheery, and posh. While Tigris sounds calmer and more serious. Calming in a weird, level way. Each word was carefully chosen like every sound had to be run by a council before coming out of her mouth.
“Well I’m not dead yet, so I’d say it was bearable enough.“ He tries to joke it off, trying to see if she can smile under all those tattoos and Botox. “So do I meet the Capitol’s standards yet, or do you need to send more people to scrub another layer of my skin off?”
The corners of Tigris' mouth go up a little. Chase assumes that's a smile. Does she have any idea how terrifying she actually looks? "The prep team is done cleaning you for now. I will say, you and your teammate are both a rarity. Most, if not all, other tributes are the complete opposite of each other but.. you both complement the other.”
Chase has no idea what on earth she's talking about. So, cleverly, he responds, “Uh, thanks?”
Tigris makes a motion with her hand. "Can you de-robe? I need to see you."
Chase rolls his eyes to the heavens and removes his robe, letting it drop to the floor unceremoniously. Any dignity he had has been stripped away from him. Which he guesses is the point. Strip them of everything they are so they become animals in a zoo. Animals that tear each other apart for their entertainment. “Your team was very thorough don’t worry.” He can't help but snark.
Tigris doesn't say anything. She just circles him like before, slowly. She stops abruptly and gently takes his hand, noticing the small metal band on his finger. She pauses and looks at Chase with a surprisingly sad expression. “You must think we're despicable, don't you?” Tigris doesn't say that sarcastically, or jokingly, or even tauntingly. She says it genuinely as if she truly pities him and this situation.
“Yes.” Chase doesn’t hesitate. He’s held hatred for the Capitol his entire life. Selfish awful people who take pleasure in watching children die. People who take and take and take and don’t ever give back. They say they provide order and security, but Chase knows they provide fear and danger. They’re monsters. They’re the animals, not the people from the districts. "But I don't think I'm allowed to say that while in your care."
"You can with me, dear. I do not mind. Between you and me, I feel like you could say worse if you wished. As long as you are clever, what else can they really do to you? President Snow has already sealed your fate. And I'm certain he has heard worse as well.” She lets go of his hand and finishes pacing around him. “You can put your robe back on and follow me to chat." Tigris walks away, motioning him to follow.
She just committed treason. Chase thinks to himself. Saying anything negative about Snow or the Capitol was considered a rebellious thought. Rebellious words. And considering what they did to 13, rebels were not welcome in Panem.
Tigris leads him to a room with two big black plush couches facing each other, in the middle is a low table with a small banquet of food. Lunch. A silver chandelier that looks like rain falling hangs overhead. Three of the walls are normal aside from the ugly pale green paint while the fourth is entirely made of glass, a window looking over the Capitol. Tigris sits down and invites Chase to do the same with a graceful wave.
He sits across from her, making sure as much of him is covered as possible with the robe. At the very least they could give him his reaping clothes back. They might not be up to Capitol standards, but they're home. Home and better than absolutely nothing.
“Can I have proper clothes?"
"Don't worry, your outfit for the ceremony won't be as uncomfortable as you fear. And the clothes you came with are safe. I made sure of it." Tigris says, pouring herself some wine. Chase's mouth waters at the spread despite his reluctance to indulge.
He's never had seafood before. Chase subtly watches Tigris as an example of how to eat the unfamiliar things on his plate and follows her lead on slurping the soft meat and sauce directly from the shell. Oysters, his mind supplies. The slippery texture was a bit much for him, and it was weird eating it seemingly raw, but he moved on to a shrimp dangling on the edge of a glass filled with thick red sauce and found the texture much more tolerable. Delicious.
"So, as you know, each of the tributes wears an outfit representing their District in the opening ceremony. Since you're from lumber we want to lean more towards nature and the wood. Not just throw a tree costume on you and call it a day. We want you both to look remarkable.” Tigris practically purrs as she interrupts their eating.
Chase nods along, trying his best to focus on this stranger's words as he bites into a roll consisting of seaweed, some sort of unfamiliar grain, and fish. It was incredible even if the roll fell apart in his fingers. "Okay, sure. So what do you have in mind?" He asks with his mouth full. A part of him really wants to believe that she wants to help him, but another more reasonable part knows she's here for her own gain. The best stylist of the year probably gets all the Capitol citizens clamoring after their clothes. Even more so if the tributes they clothed win.
Tigris takes a concerningly big sip of wine before addressing Chase again. “Your outfit will echo a… romanticized lumberjack. Your escort called ahead to us so I've made the proper adjustments to your costume already. My partner and your fellow tribute stylist have already done the same for her." Chase's dread sinks in. Oh god, they really are going to dress him up like a fucking doll. But at least he won't be entirely naked with only a maple leaf covering his junk and skin painted like bark. He remembers that already being tried a few years ago.
Remember what Jameson said. Chase grits his teeth and smiles with an encouraging nod, hoping to get a better idea of how ridiculous he is going to look.
“It shouldn't be too cumbersome. A corseted tank top, tastefully baggy work pants, and boots. I had quite a fun time designing your flannel to be made out of actual wood tiles of different colors, but it will be worn around your waist instead of an actual shirt. You'll practically feel right at home.”
That’s what the Capitol citizens think they look like back in Seven? Yeah, they wore flannels but they were thick and isolating for those cold winters and kept them safe from the rough raw bark as they climbed. It wasn’t a fun fashion statement. Everything they do in the districts, it’s to keep yourself and your loved ones safe and alive to the next day. Here, your clothes were just to show how much wealth you have. How much money you can spend to make yourself look as tastefully poor as possible. But not too poor because you didn't want to actually look like you clawed your way out of the districts.
But whatever. It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s for the Capitol, it’s for survival. It’s to play a game he has to win in order to get back home to his fiancée and future child.
“Okay. When can I change into that because this whole situation isn’t exactly a pleasant one.” Chase deadpans.
"In a few hours. My team needs to make the final touches on your outfit and then we have to give you back to the prep team for hair and makeup. What happens after the ceremony is your mentors' responsibility, but more comfortable clothes will be provided for each of you in your rooms."
But Chase just nods, pretending that he cares.
For a long while they just sit in silence. Chase polishes off his plate and asks Tigris if there are any oranges available. With a push of a button, she summons a small bowl containing miniature versions of the fruit Chase secretly delighted to have on the train. He peels and eats them while staring out the large window, not even bothering to try and make conversation with his stylist. He just watches the colorful dots that were the Capitol citizens move around like painted ants. An idle curiosity flits through Chase's mind if he could break the floor-to-ceiling window if he threw the table at it. He pops another miniature orange in his mouth before the idea can stick.
At some point at what Chase assumes to be around 4 pm, Tigris sets down her empty wine glass and stands. He follows her through the hidden door as he tries to savor the last orange wedge on his tongue as they walk. She leads him to a new room and releases him to the same prep team as before. He tries to crane his neck and silently beg Tigris for help when they grab his wrists, but the lanky woman is walking away.
Don't resist.
It takes everything for Chase to not have a permanent scowl on his face as these freakish people paint his face and tug at his hair. He feels one of them painting some kind of varnish on his fingers, but when he glances down it looks like there's nothing there at all. What's even the point?
"Here we are," Tigris says smoothly as she enters the room again an hour later with a large black bag.
Unzipping it, and the faint smell of wood wafts up and it actually catches Chase's attention. "I was experimenting with some new... materials. Hopefully, it's not too uncomfortable." If she had a real tail, Chase thinks it would be swishing around her in the way cats do when stalking prey.
Tigris shoos off the preps and helps him into his outfit personally. The tanktop was the worst part: made of some kind of stiff treated canvas and boning so it could be laced up in the back like a tight pair of boots. Chase felt like his air was getting cut off almost instantly. Everything was textured like rough bark which strangely brought some comfort, but the worst offender of the entire outfit was the "flannel." It wasn't even a real shirt. The "sleeves" were just two decorated flaps that clicked together under the "knot." It resembled more of a shingled roof with alternating squares of different wood samples, all held together by some flimsy shimmering orange material under it. The tiles all rattled together as Chase moved, and he felt ridiculous. Even more so when Tigris took some orange cord the thickness of a finger and started weaving some strange harness or belt around his hips.
To avoid cussing out these people for how stupid this all was, Chase just stares off into space, trying to think about how Stacy was doing. Was she home in front of their small television with her moms, or with Birch? Or will she be out in the square to watch the broadcast in public? He hopes that Willow is okay under all of the stress Stacy might be going through right now. Is Stacy eating? She had a bad habit of not taking care of herself properly when she was worrying about something too much. Birch should be able to convince her to eat. They're soft-spoken, but when Birch is heard they have a convincing way with words. Words that have comforted Chase so many times before. He wishes they could speak again. He wishes he was home-
The tightening of the laces behind his corset brought him back with a small gasp.
Before he knew it, Tirgis was finished. She and the team all stepped back to admire their work and Chase just stood there unmoving. Tigris gestures a manicured claw to the mirrors behind Chase and…
Chase looks almost nothing like himself. It’s like they stripped him of all that made him, him. Not just physically but emotionally as well.
His clean-shaven face was painted with harsh shadows that sharpened his face more than it naturally was. Some kind of brown eyeshadow that he thinks was supposed to be a “natural” eye but did manage to make his blue eyes pop out brighter. The makeup followed down his neck and to his exposed collarbone where everything seemed to be unnaturally accentuated as if he was more an exaggerated drawing than a person. Were those supposed to be branches in his hair? Ugh.
The outfit was tacky as hell. He registered bits and pieces as they were being put on him but all together it was terrible. The “tanktop” had a birch wood texture decorating it and it made his chest squeeze even more with the thought of his best friend. The dark brown pants were baggy with the printed bark texture of some tree Chase couldn't immediately place, and black boots with leaf designs laced up just under his knees. The bright orange cord laced around his upper legs and hips were obviously meant to frame and draw attention, so Chase was at least thankful that most of that gets obscured by the least functional flannel ever to curse the earth.
Now that he looks like this he has to go out there and pretend like he’s happy- like he’s grateful for this opportunity and all of it.
At least he gets to keep Stacy's ring on a copper chain Tigris provides him.
“It looks…nice.” That’s all he could muster up without showing any true emotion.
Tigris purrs from her chest, "You look ravishing, Chase. They will love you. Oh, one more thing." She slides a piece of green paper out from her work table and begins delicately folding it strangely. Chase can't help but watch as her pointer finger presses against each fold so it comes out crisp, folding and creasing the paper into different triangles until finally it takes a shape.
It's some kind of bird.
"There is a very old legend," She explains as she walks over to Chase again, "That if you fold one thousand paper cranes you get a wish." She says slowly as she carefully attaches the little paper bird to his shoulder. "My wish is for your..." She looks into his eyes, and he notices her pupils are ever so slightly slit. Were they contacts? Or did she pay to get them physically altered? "What is her name?"
"Stacy." He replies, trying not to grit his teeth at the whole ordeal.
"I wished for Stacy to be safe for you." Tigris finished simply, stepping back to take in her work with pride.
“Thank you.” He tried to muster an ounce of sincerity in his voice. But after the last two days, he can’t. He can’t feel anything except anger and disgust. Even this act of kindness felt fake. Like he was just a prop for Tigris to feel better. Oh, she made a beautiful outfit for you! She made you stand out! Her outfit is the reason you’re gonna get so many sponsors! Please. This whole thing, these games, were so ridiculous.
Tigris steps back, heels echoing in the room as she gracefully turns to the door, "Your chariot awaits."
°○°○°○°
Chase finds Ivy standing with Jameson and their horses in the closed-off corridor. The doors to the audience barely muffled the cheers and chatter of the Capitol civilians just beyond. Everyone is dying to get a first look at this year's tributes! And Chase was dying to get out of these stupid clothes as soon as possible.
The other tributes stood by their simple chariots and this was the first time Chase was seeing any of them in person. He tried to block most of them out when they were forced to watch the recaps of all the Reapings, but most if not all of them were.. younger than Chase. His stomach sinks. Was he one of the only 18-year-olds drawn this year? That is nearly impossible. But no, he looks around again and locks eyes with another boy seemingly around his age.
He was skinny, all lean muscle and his dark brown hair almost spiked up. If it was natural or gel Chase couldn't tell from where he stood. Brilliant green eyes seemed to illuminate with mischief and he held himself tall but a little off-kilter. He looks different for someone from District 2. Typically they're much more bulky from their (illegal but ignored) training. But this kid looked fast and lethal rather than hulking and brutal. The word sharp leaps to the front of Chase's mind.
Chase breaks eye contact first but can still feel the other boy's eyes on him as he approaches Ivy and Jameson.
Jameson was showing her how to carefully pet the horse with brown fur and white spots so they didn’t get spooked.
"Gently like this," His voicebox said before using the backs of his knuckles to pet the horse's muzzle where it could see them. "If you try petting them from the back they could get scared and kick your teeth out." He chuckles silently, allowing Ivy a turn.
"I've never seen such a beautiful animal like this.. they can do that and you guys just keep them as pets?!" Ivy says to Jameson gently petting the horse the way Jameson showed her, amazed.
Ivy’s gaze lands on Chase, and by the way her lips curve up into a smile, Chase could tell she was holding back a laugh. “Oh, my- is that really how they view lumberjacks?”
“Apparently.” He looks over Ivy’s outfit, her head nearly engulfed by her namesake. They put her in a skin-tight dress that must have had some kind of padding to make her curves more pronounced. It was all brown, textured with, obviously, bark patterns and fake vines wrapped around her like long snakes. Like ivy growing on a tree. Most of it crawled up her form and spilled into a ridiculous collar that swooped above her head to look like a tree canopy, but on closer inspection, it was more of those little paper cranes making up the leaves. He had to hold back a snicker at her outfit. “Well, at least no one will forget your name!”
“At least you look somewhat normal while I look like a fucking tree.” Ivy sticks her tongue out past the bright red lipstick. “Covering me in ivy. Not exactly subtle.” Small green gemstones shimmer on her face as she rolls her eyes.
Jameson laughs through his nose and gives them a small smile, "Yes I think that's the idea."
Chase gives a smile to Jameson in return as he joins in petting the horses. He really was the only one keeping them both sane. The only person from home and the only one who had an understanding of what they were going through. He didn’t glamorize a single moment of this, just explaining what would happen and being as sympathetic as he could. It was nice to have him through all this.
Tigris and Ivy's stylist, Jeuon, join them and help the two tributes step onto the chariot.
"Be sure to hold on tight." Jeuon explains with a lopsided grin, showing off a golden canine, "These carriages aren't the most stable." His black hair was styled in a collection of small braids that wrapped around each other in a large round bun on his head. Lips painted green to match Ivy's vines, but it was a shade too light. "Smile and wave to the crowd! Blow kisses, flirt. If we're going to sell your angle of sensuality then you have to play the part." He explains with a flourish of his hands for emphasis, showing an example of a coy wave with lowered eyelids.
"Smile and wave, flirt with the people. You're going to be great." Tigris purrs at them both.
"The horses know where to go. We'll meet you on the other side." Jameson explains as the grand doors begin to open at the end of the large hall. "Good luck." He and the stylists step back as the horses begin to pull the chariot.
Chase just shrugs, any words he could say would just be drowned out by the roaring crowd.
He grips the carriage as it starts to move, the constant wobbling throwing him off his balance. He can’t imagine what it must be like for Ivy in those heels.
The bright lights hit him hard and fast, nearly blinding him at how dazzling everything was. And the crowd, god he might go deaf from how loud it is. Chase has seen this whole show on television his whole life, but it does not truly capture the grandeur and noise of it all. He forces himself to smile and wave at the crowd, even winking and blowing kisses to every woman he can see. He watches as the girls his age, and even the older women and men, catch his kisses and even blow kisses back. Roses of all colors are thrown onto the ground and in his general direction. They all look as ridiculous as he feels.
His face, his smile is on all the screens, his name and district underneath them. His smile grows wider, but it isn’t genuine. He tries to smile the way he would with Stacy, a goofy grin that she says makes her stomach do flips, but it just isn’t right. It’s too forced, but no one besides her will notice. He looks happy to the cameras, and that’s all that matters.
Chase feels Ivy’s grip tighten on his arm. The constant wobbling of the chariot paired with the high heels must be making her feel like she could fly off any moment. He grabs her hand on instinct, gripping it hard making sure that she doesn’t fall out. There was no need for District 7’s future victor to get trampled by horses on the avenue of tributes.
Eventually, their horses park in front of the grand white stage where President Snow stands over all of them, commanding attention and respect. Chase was so grateful that he could put his arm down and stop smiling. There was no way that the human body was meant for 30 minutes of constant waving and kisses. Even if it was, his body was not meant for it. The screens around them flash to each pair of tributes in their chariots as the fairly young president speaks to the nation.
"Welcome," His voice echoes and slowly quiets the crowd, "Welcome, tributes, to the 32nd annual Hunger Games." The crowd cheers, and Snow looks across the 24 children in costumes with a deadly smile, "May you bring honor and glory to your districts in these games. And may the odds be ever in your favor."
He’s watched Snow make announcements before, and everyone has agreed that he looked and acted like a snake. But now, in person, he could confirm it. His lips were puffy, yes, but his eyes were like that of a predator. And Chase was just a mouse scurrying away trying in vain to avoid his fate.
The president continued talking about the glory of the games like he did every year and wishing the tributes good luck. But Chase couldn’t hear it, all he could focus on was those eyes. Tigris’ were slits like cat eyes and Chase can’t be sure, especially from a distance, but Snow’s almost matched it. They were blue, an unnatural blue but those pupils, they were the real mystery. He never saw it on TV, but those pupils weren’t human. At least not in the way Chase would describe them. They were one of a beast, of a monster. A mutt.
Chase grabs onto Ivy making sure she doesn’t fall off as the chariots lurch into motion again. The crowd roars as the horses lead all the carriages away, plunging the pair back into darkness. But even then all he could think about was the cold and unforgiving eyes of that little man.
As promised, everyone met Chase and Ivy in the holding area, the prep teams ecstatic and chittering away like multi-colored songbirds. Chase tenses up as the flock crowds the two of them, all their hands clambering to touch them.
"Oh, you looked fabulous!"
"My heart stopped at that wink, you're a natural!"
"I was so sure those cranes would take flight! Along with my composure!" They all laugh but Jameson steps up and holds out a hand to help Ivy off the chariot.
"Well done. You didn't fall." He smiles, but his grey eyes look tired.
Teefee comes up and holds Chase's face in her hands, it takes everything in him not to smack her away like a fly, "You both look like a fantasy!" She gasps in wonder, her smile wide with pride, "Everybody will want a piece of you." The woman giggles, releasing him with a pat on his cheek, and leads everybody to the elevators. “I’ve already heard some sponsor talking~”
Tigris walks past Chase and nods approvingly but says nothing, sauntering on with her fur collar up high and long legs bare aside from some striped tights.
Chase looks around the room again while following his team, seeing the boy from District 2 again as he looks up. And the boy smiles at Chase. But before he could decipher if it was friendly or a threat, Chase was pulled into the elevator as the glass doors shut behind him.
Chase rests his head against Jameson’s shoulder, he didn’t know that a seemingly simple thing could be that exhausting. The attention, the cheers, the giggles, and the laughs drained him of everything he was. He feels like a hollowed-out tree, eaten alive by beatles and left with absolutely nothing inside.
“I want to go home, James.” He whispers just enough for Jameson to hear it. “I want to get out of these clothes. I can’t breathe.” Jameson doesn't say anything, but he takes one of Chase's hands in both of his and soothingly pats it. And that’s all he can do.
Chase is quietly waved down by a train attendant and is shown to his room in the sleeper car. It takes a bit too much effort for him to not snap at them to fuck off. But he knew they didn't do anything wrong, so he just bit the inside of his cheek.
The luxury space is decorated in deep maroons and greens, and the silky sheets on the bed are smooth to the touch. Dark red curtains framed the single window, and a vase of fresh white roses sat on the dresser no doubt filled with brand new clothes.
Chase waves the attendant away when they offer to get him a drink and finally, he is alone.
He’s forgotten his roots. Chase thinks as he paces back and forth, feet sinking into the plush carpet as he seethes with anger. That’s the only explanation on how Jameson can stomach saying those things to them. How he can eat and drink like everything will be okay when nothing– nothing is okay.
He’s practically Capitol. That must be how he won the games. A soft exterior to make people like him when in reality he’s no different than the monsters who bet on children slaughtering each other. Who see the districts as no more than lab-made mutts for their twisted self-fulfilling entertainment. Forget anything Jameson did back in District 7, that all was part of the facade, get people in close before he strikes like a snake in the woods. But he was all Chase had. He couldn’t get another mentor, so he was stuck with the Capitol bootlicker.
And then there was their escort. A cheery cupcake full of glitter beside him. How on earth was she supposed to help? She probably laughs and cheers when a cannon fires. She’s never suffered a day in her life. Her worst day was probably when her dress wasn’t finished being tailored on time so she had to wear last year's outfit to a party. Meanwhile, Chase couldn’t even count how many worst days he’s had. The day he lost his mother, the day he got flogged so hard he couldn’t walk for weeks, or maybe today when he was sent off to his death with a Capitol brainwashed bootlicker, an airheaded cupcake with glitter for brains, and his former classmate who was basically sunshine in human form. Or maybe his worst day yet will be in the arena as he inevitably starves to death, or has blood poisoning, or something that the sadistic game makers choose. If there’s any mercy in the world, his death will be swift and off-camera. But he doesn't think he'll get that lucky.
He sits heavily on the bed and the mattress tries to swallow him whole.
He misses Stacy. He misses Birch. He misses his dad. He misses his mom. He misses his district and the smell of the spruce trees already. He lets out a silent sob, refusing to let anyone on this God-forsaken train hear him cry. He doesn’t want to die. But he might as well be from District 12 in capabilities and die in the bloodbath. Unremarkable, forgettable, and most importantly: alone.
He didn't realize he was digging his nails into his own arms when a knock at the door made him jump out of his skin and to his feet. Thankfully, he didn't make a sound at the initial scare but did indeed groan once it clicked someone wanted to speak to him.
“Go away, Jameson. I don’t really want to talk right now.” He calls bitterly to the person behind the door, continuing to walk a trench into the white carpet with his dirt-coated shoes.
"Well, it's a good thing I'm not him," A girl's voice responds behind the door.
Right, sunshine girl. Ivy.
“Ivy, I’m not- I’m not in a good mood right now.” He says, quickly scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Great. Just great. What did she want?
"Even more of a reason to try these desserts I brought you, I know it's scummy Capitol food but... anything sweet when you're sad can go a long way!"
Chase rolled his eyes and almost hoped Ivy could feel it through the door separating them, “I don’t want the Capitol’s food.” Maybe if he refused to eat, he’d starve to death before the games even started. Wait, no, that’s a dumb plan. He should be focusing on eating and getting as much protein and carbs into his body before the games. “I don’t really like sweets anyway.”
Chase doesn’t know why he lied just then, probably to push Ivy away and keep her at arm's length. His dad always said he got too attached to people too quickly. But pushing her away is the exact opposite of what he should be doing in this situation. But he can’t help it. Too many emotions and thoughts churned his stomach and swarmed his head like beetles. He didn't want to talk to her right now.
"If you don't let me in I'll get Teefee.” Ivy threatens light-heartedly, “She'll probably fill your room with glitter before stepping a high heel in there." Ivy laughed a little. Chase could tell she was trying to break the awkward tension, but he crossed his arms tight across his chest. There's silence for a moment before she starts again, "I don't see a point in avoiding each other, Chase. Whether we like it or not we're here now... no use starting things off bad when they're only going to get worse.” He could hear her upbeat tone drain away as she spoke and the guilt that took over Chase drowned him.
The door opens, revealing the girl to him and the plush room behind Chase as he stood in the doorway.
“Fine. Come on in. Just don’t bring that glitter curse near me.” He says before stepping aside to let her in.
“Thank you!” Ivy snorts, walking in with a faint smile. Chase watches as she pauses to take in the space and is almost taken aback by Chase's bedroom, “Don't worry, I wouldn't actually do that to ya. Her voice is enough to make me wanna bash my head through a wall.” Ivy sets the silver tray of desserts down on an end table and turns to Chase with a serious expression, “Did uh.. what I say before upset you?”
Chase deflates now that the door is closed behind them. “No, this whole thing upsets me. It’s not your fault. It’s just- I’m going to be dead in a week. And this morning I was proposing to Stacy, and getting ready for my baby.” He could feel the words catching in his throat as fresh tears burned against his eyes, “And now… now I’m going to die and Stacy will be left all alone! And I’ll never get the chance to meet my baby!” He hiccups quietly, one hand gripping his chest while the other slips into his pocket where he safely kept Stacy's ring.
Ivy frowns at Chase as he explains his story, "I don't think you'll be dead in a week. I know you're pretty strong. Plus, despite how disgusting it is being one of the Capitol favorites, it could give you a chance! People love a baby!” She says encouragingly.
"Yeah," Chase scoffs. "A slight chance."
"I mean it," Ivy says seriously, her brows creasing together, "You can turn off your emotions if you have to. It's all for show."
He looks over at Ivy and really looks at her as a tribute. Strong, versatile in many weapons, knows how to hunt and find food, smart, and kind. She could easily be mistaken as someone from 1 or 4. Yeah, she'll definitely be a victor. Chase can practically see the golden crown shining across her red hair.
"Ivy, I need a favor from you." He says suddenly.
Ivy raises an eyebrow, worry in her eyes, “What?”
"When you win,” He starts slowly, already accepting that he is never making it home, “Make sure that they bury me in my yellow flannel, not whatever the Capitol puts me in. I don't want to be buried looking like one of their little mindless dolls." Chase wraps his arms around himself and glares at the floor. If he's going to die in their games, then he doesn't want to wander the next stage looking like a total stranger. How would they find him?
Chase is snapped out of his thoughts when one of the feather-stuffed pillows smacks him in the face. Completely bewildered and caught off guard, he looks to Ivy, who was gearing back to hit him again.
Chase catches it this time, "What the hell was that for?!" He's not angry, just surprised. A pillow? Why on earth would she do that?
"Stop it!” She yelled, which also surprised him, “That was for not giving yourself even the slightest chance!!!” Ivy goes to hit him again but Chase easily blocks it, “If you give up now you're giving up on your baby,” She hits his arm again, “And that baby deserves to grow up with both parents!!” Her face was red, tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes.
Chase could tell she wasn't actually angry, but he can't stop himself from snapping back at her. "I'm being realistic! 24 go in, one comes out, and I don't have any chance! I don't know how to survive, and I have- what? Three, or four days to learn? You have all the skills, you're practically a Career and I bet you'll be able to charm your way into the group!"
He's exhausted. That's all he can feel. Exhaustion and anger. He doesn't know which is better.
"Don't you dare compare me to them.” She hisses, “I'm being realistic too. Sure, I know how to hunt, but I'm too sympathetic! I cried when my sister killed a rabbit one time!” Ivy fumes as Chase sees her eyes dart to the dessert tray but quickly abandons any idea she might have had about it. Instead, she tries to hit him with the pillow again, and this time, he just takes it from her and throws it across the room.
They stare at each other for a tense moment before Ivy squares her shoulders.
"You say I have all the skills? Fine. Let me teach you then. I thought I wasn't gonna make it back in District 7 if it wasn't for Amber and my dad. If I can learn, so can you. I can't do this on my own, Chase…"
Chase goes to war with himself. He knows that he doesn't really have a shot at winning. He knows that he might be good at fighting and starting shit, but keeping himself alive has always been his greatest struggle. He looks at Ivy and sees a classmate comforting her friend in the hallway when they lost their sibling. He sees a girl who stands up against schoolyard bullies and shares her precious little lunch with a kid who hasn't eaten since yesterday. He sees her splitting a sugar cookie with him that her sister somehow stole from the baker when they were six. He sees her helping him survive. And himself protecting her in turn.
Chase takes in a deep breath and sticks out his hand. It would be helpful to have her around. And going in with a partner would be better than going in alone, he thinks.
"If you find us food and keep us alive, I'll keep us safe from other tributes. Deal?"
Ivy sighs in exhaustion, he feels the same way down to his bones and they haven't even stepped off the train. She nods and takes his hand, shaking it firmly in agreement. "Deal. I can grant you food but... killing will be the hard part."
“Unfortunately for me, I think that’s going to be the easiest part.” Chase tries to laugh and tries to make it into a joke, but it tastes bitter on his tongue. But he knows it’s not a joke. He knows he’ll have to kill to keep Ivy and himself alive. For Stacy, for Willow.
What choice does he have?
Chase grabs a large oatmeal cookie and breaks it in half, offering the bigger side to Ivy. They both share the treat after Ivy tries to trade him. After finishing the sweet, Ivy returns to her own room, leaving the tray behind for him.
He doesn't admit he finished all the treats before dinner.
°○°○°○°
Sleep comes and goes for Chase through the night.
They were told that it should only take about 10 hours from 7 to the Capitol, but Teefee informed them that they would arrive after breakfast so they have some time to sleep.
Yeah. Sleep. What a joke.
Every time Chase closes his eyes he either sees Stacy's face, red and puffy with tears. Or a faceless opponent running a spear through his stomach. Or he hears the sounds of a baby crying and he desperately searches for the source, unable to find them.
It’s somewhere around 4 AM when he gives up the illusion of sleep and goes to the dining car. Clothed in a clean tank top and a pair of soft sweatpants, Chase shuffled in his hole-free socks through the train. Only one attendant was awake but Chase waved them away again, saying he was okay, thanks.
When the door slides open near-silently, Chase is surprised to see Jameson Jackson already sitting at the table in the dim light of early morning.
The slightly older man looks up from what he was doing and he looks as tired as Chase feels, which is really saying something. His hair is back to its natural messy curls and his mustache lacked any styling product. Gone was the vest and now he wears a plain dusty blue shirt- the open collar of it low enough to show off one of the scars he earned from his games. His skin was healed but it still left a gnarled scar on his pale neck next to his clavicle.
Chase noticed that Jameson's cane was haphazardly thrown onto the table without caring for the breakables across it. But what surprised him more was that the older man was holding what appeared to be a knife from dinner as well as a piece of wood. Maple if Chase had to guess from his place at the doorway. Where did he get that?
Chase stands there in silence, both men staring at each other for a long time.
Jameson levels Chase with a soft look that he can't quite place, and without breaking eye contact, he takes hold of his cane- and deliberately breaks a vase of flowers along with a few cups while moving it off the table. Placing it beside his chair as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. His mouth quirks up into a wry smile and Chase can almost hear the sarcasm in his actions. Oops.
Chase takes a step back in shock. Holy- huh, maybe not all Capitol after all. Chase picks up a crystal glass. The cool texture against his palm is like nothing he’s ever felt before, it’s cold but not like snow, and heavy, full of weight. He runs his thumb across the texture before he chucks it against the train's wall, right at the seal of Panem. He looks back up at Jameson with the same expression on his face.
“Oops. My hand slipped.”
Jameson smirks with an almost innocent shrug. Accidents happen, he says before going back to his work. Chase now sees that he’s whittling something, a small pile of wood shavings collecting on the pristine white tablecloth.
It’s still too early for the attendants to be awake, or maybe they couldn't be bothered at this hour, so the two young men have some time alone.
Chase opens and closes his mouth a few times trying to decide what to say. Jameson looks good in the casual clothes of District 7, but Chase is more focused on what he’s carving. And more importantly how he managed to sneak a piece of wood onto the train.
“I like carving too.” Chase finally settles on. He thinks it’s lame until Jameson looks at him again with raised brows in interest.
There was a moment where Jameson stared off beyond Chase, but he quickly refocused, inviting him in with a wave and an offering to a seat on his left.
When Chase sits down, Jameson does two things. First, he shows him what he's been working away at this morning.
It was the beginning of a face. No details yet and the cuts were still rough, but something was beginning to emerge from the grain like someone was completely submerged in water except for their face. It makes Chase a little uneasy if he was being honest with himself, but the last thing he wants is to come off as rude now that Jameson is giving him a chance. So he smiles, “That’s.. really good so far.” It sounds fake even to him, but Jameson doesn’t seem to mind, grinning back with a nod of thanks.
The second thing his mentor shows him was another piece of soft wood. He seems to materialize it from under the table like magic as he hands it over to Chase, sliding another small dinner knife across the table to him. An invitation.
As Chase stares in mild disbelief, Jameson goes back to his work, steady hands making small nicks in the wood to slowly bring more of the head out of the wooden lake.
Chase hesitates for only a moment before he grabs the wood and the dinner knife and starts carving away without much of a plan. The knife wasn't ideal for carving, but Chase thought he was spoiled by his good tools anyway. He got them for a deal at the black market and Old Robbie even showed him how to sharpen them. He doesn’t know what he’ll carve just yet, but he knows it’ll be something for Willow. A little toy or treasure. Something she could have of him when he was gone.
“Ivy and I made an alliance before dinner yesterday. Decided that it’s best to go on with each other.”
Without looking up Jameson nodded in approval, turning the knife in his hand to tap out a quick code phrase on the table quietly with the handle, Any more? Unknown?
There wasn't any indication that Jameson had his strange translators on him, so Chase guessed he had to make due knowing that Chase doesn't know sign language. The language was not very common in 7, but thankfully, Chase also knows how to read a person of very few words thanks to his father.
“Any more allies? Uh no, I think Ivy and I will go it alone for now. I’ll keep her safe, she’ll keep me alive.”
Chase carves out a big chunk of wood, almost hitting his hand on accident. He doesn’t even flinch and keeps on carving. He’s almost lost a finger or two about a dozen times. Small mistakes don’t phase him much anymore. A few more strokes of the knife and it’s starting to get the rough shape of something.
Jameson looks up again and gently nudges his elbow to the young man's arm, eyebrow raised as if asking, Are you sure? That's all?
“Well, I’m sure Ivy will make a friend or two. Why, do you think we need more? More allies just means more people to betray. I already feel bad enough pairing up with Ivy.”
Jameson lets a sigh out from his nose, carefully setting his work down before holding his hands in his lap, contemplating something for a long minute with a crease between his brows. Chase waits patiently.
Eventually, Jameson tilts his head slightly and nods in agreement, biting his lip in thought before looking to Chase again, Better odds for a while, anyway. He seems to say, before staring off past Chase's head again to something in the distance.
Chase hesitates for a moment but reaches over and gives a squeeze to Jameson’s hand. He’s more District than Chase originally thought. Maybe Chase needs to give him another chance, maybe Jameson hates this whole thing just as much as he does. Maybe more since he's been mentoring for the last several years now. It must take a toll on you watching so many children you looked after die…
Jameson blinks rapidly at the contact and comes back to himself, taking a deep breath through his nose and slowly letting it out through his mouth before returning focus to Chase. Squeezing his hand while lifting the other with his palm out in a shrug, It could keep you alive longer. And that's all he can really give for now without his thimbles.
Chase nods and goes back to the wood carving. There was clearly a story there but Chase didn’t want to pry it out of him. He’s sure if he dug around he’d find the answer, but it probably wasn’t a pretty one.
With the two of them actually sitting together... Jameson doesn't look that much older than Chase. Maybe early twenties? He won his game about 6 years ago, so all in all, he's still fairly young compared to many of the other mentors Chase has seen on TV.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Chase says after a while of comfortable silence.
Jameson gives Chase an easy smile, a real one. No worries. He pauses and reaches over to gently squeeze his shoulder, Me too. Wood shavings fall from Jameson's shirt onto the table and floor, but he doesn't seem to mind.
Chase gets up without a word and begins to clean all the curled shavings up. He isn’t quite sure why he’s doing it, but he feels like it needs to be done. The attendees probably have far too much to deal with, no need to bother them with this.
Jameson watches Chase clean for a minute before he uses his cane to stand up. Chase was about to offer a hand but Jameson shook his head before walking to the other end of the train car. Returning a moment later with a broom and pan, blocking the attendant from entering the car with a wave and a few quick signs. The attendant looks torn but gives a small bow and leaves them both be.
“Here, let me.” Chase reaches for the broom and starts brushing the scattered shavings and broken glass. “Ya know my first job was cleaning up all the wood shavings for the carvers.” Chase speaks to fill the quiet, “Then when I turned 13 it was off to the woods and I’ve been there ever since.” He gives a small laugh as he thinks about all the fun and stressful times in those woods. How peacekeepers would shove him and his friends and keep them in line even though it was just wood. It wasn’t a precious commodity like what they produced in District 1, or even food like from 4, 9, 10, or 11. It was lumber and branches, and there was an abundance to be found in 7.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a carpenter like my dad. I've been told I got a really good eye for the details. But I think I’m gonna be stuck in those woods forever.”
Air escaped Jameson's nose in short bursts- laughter- and he couldn't help but smile. Jameson mimes out the well-remembered motions for spreading bleached tree pulp evenly into the paper press, waving a hand up and down in front of his face, puffing out his cheeks, and blowing as if it was sweltering hot.
“Oh shit? Really? I always-huh. Never would have guessed you worked in the paper mill. You look like you would have thrived in the forest with me and my friends.” Chase gathers all the wood chips and broken glass into the pan and dumps it into the nearest trash can. “Do you, do you ever wish you could go back? I know the presses aren’t the best job but… it seems lonely in Victor Village.”
Jameson stops to think, but eventually, he shakes his head. He indicates through mime that the people were very lovely, but the peacekeepers tolerated little in the factories.
Besides, he essentially says by rolling his eyes in disdain, It's not like they would treat me the same as before.
Once the glass is cleared away Jameson carefully sits back down where he was before, absent-mindedly rubbing the scar on his throat. He looks back up to Chase, circling his hand over his stomach, Hungry?
“Starving. I didn’t really touch dinner. It looked… fake.” Jameson raises his brows and nods in sound agreement. That’s the only word Chase could use to describe the shiny-like qualities of the food. Fake. The steak looked covered in lacquer and Chase had never seen potatoes that brightly colored. The water seemed dyed a light blue, and the red liquor next to it smelled awful. He avoided most of it but did nibble on some of the more familiar greens like a rabbit.
“Do they have any decent bread around here?”
Holding up a finger, Jameson reaches across the table to a covered basket and picks up a golden roll, tearing it in half to reveal melted cheese inside. He offers half of it to Chase and the boy carefully takes it.
Breaking bread. More than a truce in Chase’s eyes. An act of friendship and compassion. He heard stories from his dad that during the war, breaking bread became something sacred, something to do with your friends and family when grieving or celebrating. He just did something similar with Ivy yesterday without much thought, like it was just natural to do with her.
He takes the bread and taps it against Jameson’s. He gives a small smile before taking a big bite.
Once the two young men finish their shared roll, Jameson slides the rest of the basket to Chase. Chase is about two more fist-sized rolls in when Jameson slides across a peeled orange, splaying the slices out on top of the rind for them both to share. Oranges, along with a lot of other fresh fruits, were rare in District 7. Sure, they weren't the worst-off district like 12, but they also weren't the richest either. They occasionally had crisp apples, but most of the food came from elsewhere. So they enjoyed whatever treats came through when they could. Better than chewing on the soft inner bark to keep stomach cramps at bay. Chase was much more familiar with that than the strange brightly-colored fruit before him.
Chase’s eyes glimmer at the sight of it, he's only seen oranges very rarely from the shop windows or candied versions on top of cakes. Neither of which he could ever dream of affording for himself. He takes a slice and carefully examines it before taking a bite. There was a burst of juice as the citrus flavors took over his mouth, making his lips pucker at the sour tang. He immediately fell in love.
“Oh my-” Now he realizes why there was a rebellion. Screw oppression and dictatorships, this alone was worth rebelling for. “Do they have these all the time in the Capitol?!” Chase asks, taking another slice and biting it in half to savor the flavor and suck the juices out.
Jameson let out more short puffs of breath from his nose in an almost bitter laugh, sweeping his arms across the table, More than they can ever eat themselves.
Chase polishes off the rest of the cheese buns and the orange by himself as Jameson goes back to whittling. He hasn't felt this full in a long, long time. Chase tries to reach his memory back to the last time he had a proper meal that didn't leave him feeling hollow.
It must have been Stacy's last birthday several months ago in early fall. Both of her moms had scraped and saved enough to throw a quaint dinner party for Stacy and they invited Chase and Birch as well. Chase's father sent him there with two plucked and roasted chickens he earned for fixing the mayor's roof, and Birch had some of their mother's famous blackberry jam for dessert. Stacy's mama prepared a dense herbal bread stuffed with dried apples and berries, and her other mom traded it for a wheel of cheese and some greens.
That was probably the best meal he had ever had, and both Chase and Birch were sent home with an extra plate to share with their families as thanks. Chase remembers giving Birch his extra bread because Birch had more mouths at home, more than just Chase did with his dad.
The two fall into a comfortable quiet as Chase rolls the memory in his mind, Jameson carving away while Chase eats as much as his stomach would allow. When he couldn't take another bite, he picked up his tools and continued working on carving out a simple heart for Willow. He doesn't have time to do anything more.
