three of swords

[lyra-kolb]

"Can you have a lot of quiet energy?" She wondered, cracking a smile. "I don't think it matters what I'd prefer," she shrugged softly. "Curious is a good word, though. I think men get labeled curious, and women get labeled nosy by default, so I'd go with curious." Perhaps the chip on Lyra's shoulder was showing a bit, though. District Two had a fighting style that generally favored boys, and they currently only had male victors to show for themselves. Lyra's whole existence was sandwiched between brothers, so yes, she very much had something to prove. "What're you curious about then?" She asked. "What interests you? People, places, things? The universe, the spirit?"

[willow-hawthorn]

"I like that, turning the label around," Willow agreed, seemingly pleased with Lyra's mindset surrounding the idea – Willow had always been branded that way, too nosy for her own good, too nosy to be polite.

Willow's head tilted to the side as if done with her observation of the other Tribute and elected to at least – bond – whatever the hell she was meant to be doing while waiting to die. "People and how they interact with the world," she answered, which was barely an answer, "Like, for example, everyone here is...dealing with all of this differently, right? Some people are miserable, other people are numb and you can see it on them – what about you? Everyone has something like that going on – people, world fascination or whatever."

[lee-hatchett]

A small smile pressed its way into Lee's lips. He allowed a large sigh to fall out of his body. "Yeah. The trick is making it likable. Good news is: District Seven has built somewhat of a brand around weirdos. So if that's who you are, you're already giving them exactly what they want to see."

He leaned back against the counter for a moment. "It's not so much about being yourself as it is figuring out what version of you they want to see. But that's more for me to figure out, so don't stress too much about it. If you're weird, lets lean into that, and I'll keep an eye out for what people are saying."

He paused for a moment, with another thought in his brain. They. People. Who were these people now? Would old Sponsors reemerge, or would there be new ones, hungry to get their slice of the last pie? Or would there be no one - everyone wanting to watch the end of an institution as it purely falls apart?

[willow-hawthorn]

"Oh, well, thank the gods," Willow said, mimicking Lee's smile. She liked that Seven was a bit of a misfit group – though she supposed she should've realized that between meeting Alder and Linden and well, now, Lee. He seemed even-tempered, compared to the rest of the lot. It was a relief, in a way, to not be the odd one out.

"Being myself is a little hard, though," Willow commented as she gave a pointed glance to the room around them, "They have us in a fish tank, doing something that is not...in pretty much anyone's routine, right?"

[alder-reid]

"I guess I looked a lot like my dad did, too. People would say that a lot." He recognized the longing pain contorting somewhere behind her expression. Even if his parents had been gone a while before he'd been Reaped, he could still completely understand missing them-- and squaring up to never seeing them again.

Gray Hawthorn, he committed to memory. He'd have to write that down somewhere, look up more later if he could. He didn't get a Victor salary anymore, but so much had been stashed over the years that he had no use for, he wouldn't miss it at all if he put it toward helping the Hawthorn family. "Seven takes care of tributes' families," he promised her. He didn't want to concede fully that she should plan to die, but... she was right, the possibility was real. She deserved to have the comfort that Seven's Victors made it a point to help patch up the fallout of loss their tributes left behind, even if it wasn't near enough to make any of it better.

[willow-hawthorn]

It felt like Alder could see through her – whatever tough front she had developed to cater to her fear of not performing to standard was apparently old hat to him. She wanted her dad taken care of – she wanted her family cared for.

"You promise?" Willow asked, a raise of her brows as if to say she didn't fully believe Alder. It wasn't that she was distrusting of Alder as an individual, but more so that she didn't trust Seven to be as doting in the midst of war.

[lindenunderstory]

"Well, look at us. Walking stereotypes." Linden couldn't help but chuckle about it, enjoying the feeling of commonality there. There were a few threads to be tugged on from Willow's introduction, but Linden pulled at the one that felt most relevant to the arena. like it might lead somewhere good. "A healer? We'll need you around. My little girl has a nasty habit of scraped knees." She connected, first, before asking questions about it. "Do you heal trees, or people?"

[willow-hawthorn]

"I mean, I guess it has to come from somewhere, right?" Willow asked, meeting Linden's laugh with a bit of a tense smile. The change of topic eased, her, however, she liked to talking about the healing, the work she did to ease her father's ailments. "Um, people, mostly – so my dad, he gets sick a lot," Willow explained, turning her attention fully onto Linden, "And when he gets sick, you know, there's not always money for medicine – or really any money ever but – it's mostly natural stuff so he doesn't hurt a lot – honey, sap, spices, bark from different trees, you can use. a lot of that stuff to at least kinda stop the pain for a little."

[lindenunderstory]

Linden considered the question, thoughtfully. She leaned against the counter, letting it bear her weight while she thought. "Well, let's see. We can start with the basics. I'm Linden Understory. I'm 25. I'm from seven. I'm a mom. one kid, Ellie, she's four, almost five. My parents were lumberjacks, they're dead now. I was too, now I'm a victor. My favorite color is green, which is such a stereotype, and I'm really scared to mentor because I don't really know what I'm doing. And this games is the first one the Vox are running, so who knows if the old rules are true anymore." she shrugged, realizing she'd probably admitted to more than she meant to there. trying to end it with something positive, she added more. "I... I believe in you, though. And I'm rooting for you." That was something, right? was it something?

"Come on. your turn."

[willow-hawthorn]

Willow listened carefully, her brow shifting as she kept her attention rapt on Linden because it was revealing, to who she was as a person - to everything that was at the core of her person. "I'm a daughter," Willow says, because that is the core of her identity first and foremost, "Um, I'm from Seven, I...like purple the best, walking stereotype but – trees are easier than people – easier than a lot of things. I'm kind of a healer?" It felt forced from her mouth but she didn't know what else there was to offer, if at the bare minimum that.

[alder-reid]

"Oh." Alder felt bad now for pressing, and it added yet another tragic layer to all of this. She'd come so close to the Games no longer being a consideration in her dad's care. "Willow I'm... I'm so sorry. What's your dad's name?" Just in case she didn't get out. So he could help too.

[willow-hawthorn]

"It will be what it will be," Willow shrugged because she had to keep the feelings of her family separate because if she was distracted by the call to the home, by want for a little house in Seven with her family inside of it. "Gray," Willow answered but found herself melting down into the thought of family again, a familiar ache, "I look more like him than my mom, he likes calling me a little clone, it's sweet."

[lee-hatchett]

Lee gave Willow a curt nod. How many times had he heard this before? Folks from Seven with "too much on the line," "needing to get back," "with people waiting on them back home?" It struck a worried cord in his soul. The Games had a nasty way of disappointing people. It wasn't usually the people who needed to win who did so. It was people like himself, Alder, Nano, Mahlon... folks who had nothing to lose and no reason to win who often came out on top.

But that was a thought for himself, not to share. "Of course. We'll get down to the training room first thing in the morning." He leaned back against a counter. "Anything in particular you want to hear from me? Let's start there and build."

[willow-hawthorn]

She gave a heavy sigh, curling back inward toward herself – she wanted to thrive in the arena, more than just survive. Willow had watched the videos of previous Games, focused on the Careers, how they'd behave, how they would work around the arenas. It frustrated her she didn't have those skills because those felt more surefire to get out of there alive than any nurturing skills she had to offer.

"I talked to Linden about getting people to like me and she was telling me to just 'be myself' but I..." Willow trailed off, mouth still slightly open as she thought aloud, "I don't know if that will be helpful for me – I know I'm weird and not the perfect person for these people to want to back but I want to figure out how to make these weird parts likable...so...help?"

[alder-reid]

"So like... a doctor?" he wagered, frowning. Knowing about usable plants in Seven was far from a foreign concept to him, of course, it was all they really had sometimes up in his settlement growing up. But she seemed a little young to be a physician, maybe she assisted someone or something? "That was your job?" he clarified further, even more unclear on her life before the Games than before.

[willow-hawthorn]

"Not a job," Willow said again, shaking her head. She wasn't really a doctor or even so much a healer, but more of just a caregiver. "My dad is sick a lot," Willow clarified, and as much of a burden as it was to be entrapped in her family home with the responsibility of caring for the man it was still part of it for her, "He needs a lot of help around the house so – it kind of fell to me, I couldn't work because...if I did no one would be around to look after him."

[alder-reid]

Alder nodded, grasping onto this one, small thing that seemed to be keeping her hope alive. They could use that, if nothing else. "Two out of three, then," he agreed.

He didn't particularly envision Willow as the vicious, bloodthirsty type either. "That's okay. You don't have to be. You do need to be smart, though. You know a lot about survival? Did you have a job back home?"

[willow-hawthorn]

"Smart is relative, right?" Willow responded, a question with a question. Willow knew about the green, knew the power that the wood had to offer – the strength it could instill in a human. "I had more of a duty than a job," Willow explained, pursing her lips. She knew how to tend to wounds, take care of a man who was aging so rapidly before her eyes that it might as well have been living decay but that wasn't a skill, nothing transferrable to the Games, "I know some, not a lot. How to use plants for nausea, little things like that."

[alder-reid]

Alder gave her an odd look, not sure if he could get behind that. Surely something could just as easily not happen three times? "Well, I'd prefer the option where there's no war and nobody dies in the Games," he muttered, knowing how stupid and childish it sounded. Willow, as odd as she was, was correct. This was a difficult situation where increasingly the only way out looked to be through. "Well Linden just won, then Slate before that, so we're due for a third non-Career, right. Or maybe you're second in a line of three from Seven?" As much as he hated to think there might be another Games, but to encourage Willow, he'd have to work inside her logic.

[willow-hawthorn]

"Wouldn't we all?" Willow agreed. That option was fantastical and meant that she'd be able to go home, lay in her bed, dote over her father. The rule of three did offer that, they hadn't had their third win, so it could be Willow, but it could also be any of the other non-Career Tributes. "Two of three sounds better – the odds are higher that way," Willow conceded, "So, how do we make sure I'm two of three – I can't really – really see myself as the most vicious thing inside of the arena, even pretending to be that way sounds...disingenuous."

[lindenunderstory]

Willow was sweet. Linden could tell. She didn't know much about her tributes, only having known them for a few days, but she knew enough. She was from seven, she was going into the games. That was enough of a kinship for the moment.

The vulnurable question still caught her off guard, as she'd only been pouring herself a glass of water in the seventh floor kitchen when it had been asked. After a pause, she grabbed another glass, sliding the first one across the counter to Willow. "It's hard." she admitted. "you have to be yourself, but not too yourself. I was just some girl's mama, and that got me by." Sometimes, she wondered if that was all most people saw of her. "Who are you?"

[willow-hawthorn]

"I don't know," Willow hummed, not because she wasn't sure of who she was, but because she wasn't sure how to make it all coherent words – to sum herself up into one being. How could words describe anyone, everyone was so many pieces of so many different people and experiences, how could she sum all of that into something she could talk about? Willow pursed her lips, and asked, "Do you know who you are? Is it really that easy to put it all together?"

[willow-hawthorn]

"How do I make them like me?" Willow asked because, in all her peculiarities, she was aware that if people watched the Game, she would still be a weird girl, likely to fail. She lacked the pedigree of a Career and certainly didn't have the traditional skills anyone from Seven could harness – she wasn't a lumberjack, she didn't work in a mill. She was a girl who wandered the woods in the free time she did have when she wasn't nursing her father back to some semblance of health. "I don't care if they really do but – enough for now, for this."

@lindenunderstory

[lee-hatchett]

Lee nodded at her question. "Adrenaline, cortisol, survival instinct. Capitol doctors have all sorts of fancy words for it. But you'll know it when it kicks in. The trick no one tells you is to breathe it in when it happens. Channel it - don't try to squash it."

Lee's mouth pulled into a tight smile as she continued. "That's good," he murmured, but his brow furrowed a bit as she branched into swords and spirituality. "Hm. Well, I guess I don't have much to say to that. You're right. If'n your worried about how folks outside will take it... don't be. Anyone who knows the other Tributes tend to understand, over time. As far as other Tributes... Well. We mentioned hiding. I don't think there's anything wrong with hiding the things you do in there from other Tributes either. There can be safety in keeping your cards close to your chest."

[willow-hawthorn]

"I don't know if I run or if I fight," Willow turned the conversation, lips pursed in her own contemplation, her fingertips traced shapes over her palm, nonsensical, half-hearted attempts at protection – charms, runes, whatever she could pull from the corner of her mind from things her mother had shown her.

"I'm not worried about them, people back in Seven don't really seem to pay a whole lot of mind to me anyway," Willow insisted, waving off the idea, ceasing the tracing on her hand, "No one is here to make friends, we're here to live, right? I want to live – not that death is scary, death can be a friend, I think, but there's too much riding on me surviving, Lee." She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, requesting, "Teach me what you know about the fighting stuff."

[lyra-kolb]

"Big?" She asked, seeking clarification. It was an interesting descriptor. It said nothing specific, and yet, it said quite a lot. She wasn't sure she minded the attribute assigned to her, but focused... focused was apt. "I like focused," she admitted. "And I do think I'm focused. I wouldn't be here without it." Many Academy students had passion or raw talent. That wasn't impressive. It was the focus, the drive that proved to be rare, and she believed it was the difference in success. "If I'm focused, then how do you describe your energy?"

[willow-hawthorn]

"Big can mean a lot of things, either a lot of energy, or you the type you have is loud," Willow stated, eyes still focused on Lyra, the space around her, checking different parts of the other girl's person as if the energy could shift and ripple. She was talking to much for Willow to get a decent enough reading though, so her attention shifted back, finally to Lyra's face. "Nosy – curious, whatever you'd prefer," Willow answered cracking a sideways smile.

[alder-reid]

"I don't know," Alder admitted. It wasn't exactly a conversation he was looking forward to having, if one he knew was necessary regardless. At least Willow was talking to him, which was more than he could say for the other tribute right now. He put down his phone in his lap, eyeing the strange girl sitting in the nearby armchair. "I think... I think this is uncharted territory. The Vox aren't Snow."

He kept telling himself that, like it would change the fact they were doing the exact same thing. But in the name of making sure most of Panem didn't suffer under Tarrenfree the same way we had... His stomach twisted. When did this all get so messy and complicated? And why did he still want to have so much damn faith in the Vox, even after everything?

[willow-hawthorn]

"And yet they brought the Games back," Willow countered. How different could it be if the districts were still drowning and the Vox wanted to kill their children? She knew in Seven they were lucky to at least have the smallest production of food, not starving as much as say, Twelve or Three.

"It's a cycle," Willow said gently, tone matter-of-fact. "The rule of three – anything any of us puts out into the world will return to us at least three times," She counted on her fingers as she spoke, "They fought a revolution, now we're being attacked back home and they want to take our land the way the Vox took over Panem, they killed people so now more of us are dying on the front lines, they brought the Games back – rule of three seems to suggest it will either come back with people rising up against them or there will be another three Games."

[lee-hatchett]

Lee nodded from across the table, a steaming mug of tea in front of him. "Hiding's good," he agreed. "But you'll want to learn how to at least throw a punch. They'll have Trainers down there who can show you the basics. Your body will take over for the strength, if needed."

He wrapped his hands around the mug, cradling and appreciating the warmth. "But the best strategy is hiding, I think. Longer you can stay out of the fight, the less you have to worry about it." He tilted his head, considering his words. "But you know... you'll have to fight. Eventually. So you'll want to prepare for that. Mentally."

[willow-hawthorn]

"Is that adrenaline?" Willow asked genuine, she had never been in a fight, never indulged the concept of engaging in one. She hummed understandingly all the same, she supposed it would delay what was likely an inevitable end – though she had hoped, consulted with spirits she felt weren't even listening. The dead in Panem were loud, angry, unclear in their answer.

"I'm not scared of fighting if that means anything," Willow offered, pursing her lips as she sank back into her seat, "Killing isn't the thing that scares me about the arena – it's how others will react." She felt like that didn't explain it the way she liked and shifted, to pluck at the hem of her shirt and clarified, "Five of swords – everyone is scared, no one wants to pass to the other side – scared people are irrational, you can't predict how they'll act."

[willow-hawthorn]

"Do you think it'll be the same as the others?" Willow hummed the question, eyes fixed on Alder. He was odd. Though, everyone here was odd – energies misaligned, fractures in their spirit. She had seen it in Seven, of course, where people felt purposeless or hurt by life in Panem but never to this severity. It was like walking around a morgue but here the corpses could speak – overwhelming, haunted, too much. Willow squeezed her eyes shut and ruffled a hand through her hair, forcing herself to let go, to ignore everything she swore she could feel. "The arena that is," Willow finally summoned words again, "Not the space – the people – how they decide to kill us."

@alder-reid