away from the water [d4 train, 96th]

[kap]

My mother, she told me
"Don't get in trouble"
My father, he told me
He knew I would

-----

Selkie Swan Summers-Emberstatt. That was her name.

She'd only been here a couple of months now. Already, I felt that motherly protection instinct. People had told me that I'd have it once she was born, and I wasn't sure if they'd be right. There were very few things I was protective of in my life, aside from my pets and myself, and sometimes my sister I suppose. This was a new one to add to the list.

I hadn't spoken to Enzo between when we slept together and a couple days before Selkie was born. That wasn't due to a lack of him trying. I suppose I just wanted to shut him out, but when she was close to being born, it felt right to ask him to be there. We needed to focus on raising her, even if we didn't really do it together. I would primarily be her caretaker, but he'd be allowed to come and visit whenever. That was our agreement at the moment.

Raising her in the victor's village, I hoped would be good for her. Unfortunately, her first real public outing wasn't really my choice. I had to be on the train to the Capitol right after the Ninety-Sixth reaping, and there was absolutely no chance anyone was going to convince me to leave her home. She was not leaving my side, and right now, on the train I held her in my arms. If the Capitol wasn't going to let me stay home, she would be with me.

I'd held her during the reaping, too. They still had me sit on stage, and I did my best to still pay attention to what was going on while quelling Selkie's anxious cries as the microphone boomed out over the crowd.

The first kid that got volunteered for seemed to be surprised by the girl who did the volunteering. I wasn't sure if the look on the boy's face was one of fear at first, or if he was just taken off-guard by it all. I also wasn't certain if there was any sort of connection between the two of them— the kid and his volunteer, but who could really be sure without asking when there were so little words exchanged? It took an amount of courage to volunteer for someone you knew at the reaping. I wondered if that was what had happened.

I couldn't say any of my cousins had dared to try to do that for me, but I'm grateful, I'll admit. I had a rather good outcome from it all.

Then there was the second volunteer. The boy named Lucky who'd volunteered already showed confidence on top of his act of volunteering. He'd winked at the crowd when he got to the stage. A solid start. I had a feeling he might have a decent shot. He had the career look. Now hopefully he also had the skills to go along with it.

-

I was already waiting on a velvety plush seat on the train when the two tributes arrived. Selkie was held in my arms, wrapped in a thin blanket. The summer heat this time of year didn't allow for something too much warmer. I gave a slight smile at each of the tributes as they walked in.

"Volunteers, yeah? The both of you? That's respectable," I told them. I didn't feel a hello was really necessary. Most people in the District would know who I was by now. They could introduce themselves if they saw fit. Otherwise, I imagined that we would just move forward with conversation.

Then I realized that there was someone in the room that hadn't been introduced. Was I seriously already forgetting to introduce my child on her first outing?

"Oh, this is Selkie," I said, nodding down to show I was talking about the bundle in my arms. Then, I returned to the 'business' of the conversation. It felt important to start early. Although to be fair, my own mentor hadn't given me much to go off of and I seemed to figure it out myself.

"I figure it's not too early to start getting to know one another, if that's what you wanted. Or just getting straight to strategy. Personally, I don't see harm in being more prepared than the other tributes." I looked to each of them. Perhaps they were annoyed with my presence. Perhaps they weren't. It really didn't make a difference to me, but I'd offer my help if they wanted it.

Otherwise, I'd gladly focus on Selkie. She was more important to me than the seventh batch of District Four kids to get thrown at me since I'd won.

-----

lyrics: "Twisted" by Missio

[MATTIO]

l u c k y
nachtnebel

"I have no intention of dying, Dad." Lucky's father had his thumbs on either side of his son's temples for the better part of two minutes. His mother had already left the room and said she was proud of him but ashamed of herself. Dad held out for longer. It surprised Lucky, the way the roles reversed and it was his father clinging, begging for the moment not to end, for his son not to go.

"I don't know if that's something you can control, Luck." Finally, his father let him fall back into the chair. "Your eye. They're going to come for you because of your eye."

His head rolled back, staring now at the ceiling. The standard his father set irked him. Be a career, be ruthless, be in it for the kill. It's all he knew when he was a boy, and Lucky embraced it as a teen. But when he was injured, the tide shifted only part way. What was ten years of training worth if not for this moment? His father encouraged him to train after his eye was gouged out, but he drew the line at volunteering.

Lucky knew better. He knew what he was capable of. The ruthlessness, the killing. His sight narrowed, just like his father's when raising him. Blood-related or not, their family life nurtured his focus to flip on like a switch. "I'll dedicate my first kill to you." A perfect nonanswer as an authoritative knock vibrated through the thin walls. "Time to go, I think."

"You're our boy, Lucky." Lucky offered his father one last hug, the crackle in his voice giving him the sense that he may need it to properly say goodbye. Lucky, on the other hand, hadn't shed a tear.

"I'm your man, Dad. Be worried." He felt for the protruding doorknob mid-embrace. His father was crying now, certainly loud enough for the Peacekeepers outside to hear. It was getting embarrassing. "Be worried for whoever I get my hands on in that arena." He laughed, hoping it would make him cry less, but Lucky was serious. "Now, I gotta go."

♧♧♧

Stepping onto the train was the first breath of Capitol air he'd gotten in sixteen, nearly seventeen, years. The shift was immediately noticeable. The air was filtered and clean; the train's doors shut the instant Lucky walked through them, keeping the lingering seawater odor at bay. "Do they chlorinate their air or something?" His smile grew as he spoke to himself. Lucky removed his suit coat and dropped it in the avox's hands. He heard the fabric slipping through as he began to move forward, instinctually bending back to keep it from touching the ground. His head barely moved, leaving just a patch of blackness and a quickly dropping grin in the avox's direction. New Horizons had housekeepers and maids like them, but at least they weren't clumsy. "I forgive you," he menaced to them, pulling the jacket more diligently in their hands.

The next train car, the conductor told them, had one of their mentors awaiting their arrival. She urged both him and Inga to be quiet. Lucky grabbed onto the door latch and pulled it carefully. He heard it first, the sound of something whining. And then he saw Nixie, holding something in her arms. He almost forgot about that news, that she had a child in the off-season of the Games.

Lucky approached, hands folded behind his back as Nixie greeted them. Respectable volunteers, she called them. Finally, someone who wasn't going to fault him. She introduced her daughter as Selkie. He stared at the little girl through Nixie's speech; getting to know each other… strategy… prepared… something something– Lucky was never allowed to be around infants. Something about being too reckless handling one as a toddler to change it. But Lucky didn't feel that way at all hearing Selkie's frail voice and seeing her eyes wander up toward the ceiling.

"I'm Lucky," he said, distracted as if it wasn't already obvious. His mind went to other places, analyzing what he knew about the life of Nixie Summers. He remembered bits here and there but knew most clearly that she was a victor. For that reason alone, he deemed her a worthy protector of a precious child such as Selkie. "I am fine discussing whatever she needs help on," he said as he approached Nixie and the baby. He was referring to Inga in tow, of course.

"May I, um, hold her for you?" He whispered now that he got closer. Selkie fascinated him within a matter of moments. "Just to give you some room. I promise I'll be gentle."

[calla]

I N G A

Inga learns very quickly to tune out her district partner. Lucky is annoying in the way that all the other boys in training are. The eye thing seems gimmicky, but she's sure he can use that dazzling personality to swing it and land sponsors.

The Vanas family is prolific in their own right throughout Four. Old blood. Especially with those Murdock connections. Inga doesn't really have the patience for little boys who think a firm grasp is all you need to swing a sword.

She makes it to the train, and through the cars, without rolling her eyes too hard.

She'd rooted for Nixie during her games - how could she not? Then the 90th came, and she brought Talon home. Impressive. The celebrations lasted for months. Then the 91st came, and she didn't bring Willem home. They were allotted one day for the funeral. She didn't see Vincent for an entire week.

Now, the baby does complicate things somewhat. It was to be expected. There's no way Nixie would be giving them her full attention when she has a newborn to worry about. Inga needs to pick Anatalia's brain, or Talon's. She needs someone who doesn't have a bundle of blankets in their arms, those little hands trying to grab and chew on their hair. It's a cute distraction, but still a distraction.

And, he's not exactly her first choice - but she'd even take Beck at this point.

Inga ignores Lucky's jab as he fusses over the baby - distracted, typical. She sits down across from Nixie primly, hands folded. She is a career, after all. She's from the kind of career dynasty that makes the lesser ones tremble.

"I'm not the one missing depth perception." She says sweetly, posture near perfect, "Or any kind of perception."

She doesn't offend Nixie by asking to hold Selkie. Inga, despite being the eldest daughter, has never been very maternal. No room for it.

"I don't know if you remember, but you mentored my cousin, Willem." She remarks.

And then flatly, like a reminder - "Storm Adroxis killed him."

ELEGANT

[ᴥ]

b e c k ;

He's running late with coffee stains on his sleeves and a lingering smile.

"If all the expensive whiskey is gone when I get back, I'm changing the locks."

There's a space in there where he would have kissed Chanel goodbye, but he waves instead.

The train is no longer haunted, no longer hungry - just this heap of writhing metal and the looming threat of small talk. There's no reason to return to the Capitol, other than the fact that he's apparently incapable of not giving a shit. With two victors and twelve years since his games, they won't place that burden on his shoulders.

But if anything he has to say will give these kids a shot at surviving, well, he has to try.

Eugh, good thing he's left that soft heart at home. Not that he really trusts Chanel to look after it, it's merely hers to do with as she pleases.

For now, there are more pressing matters. Two volunteers this year, so they're either gonna be mopey or -

"I am fine discussing whatever she needs help on,"

"I'm not the one missing depth perception.

Yeah. Like that.

"Good chemistry in here already." He sprawls out on seat near the corner of the car, slinging an arm across the back of it. They'd have to crane their necks to get a good look at him, but he can keep a careful eye. "Congratulations, by the way. Did my fruit basket arrive?" He nods toward Nixie, careful not to linger on the squirmy thing in her arms.

Just another name to be scrawled on a little piece of paper, in due time. It's a shame, Nixie deserves to live without the threat of the games hurting her again. Whether or not she views it that way, well, he wishes her the best.

Inga is the picture of poise, hands folded in her lap as she regards Nixie with something like professional curiosity. Lucky's is less composed, all thought of impending death forgotten in the face of a baby. Neither begets an openness to learning but, then again, Beck has seldom met a tribute who was.

They're just kids.

And maybe that's all they'll ever get to be.

"I assume you've got combat experience," He addresses Inga, "Not sure about you, but the audience will like the whole-" He gestures vaguely at where Lucky looms over Nixie. Well proportioned, handsome, with a good smile and easy sympathy because of the eye.

"We are here to help you." He leans in, voice deepening from it's usual light-hearted lilt, "I want to see you survive more than anything. Wouldn't be here if that weren't the case. So please, tell us what you need."