eat your fill . jupiter / safina
Jun 19, 2024 11:16:16 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Jun 19, 2024 11:16:16 GMT -5
J U P I T E R
Jupiter makes his way through the cafeteria with a tower in his hand, plate stacked high with an assortment of meats and cheeses and everything savory. It's a delicate game, grabbing another plate for the desserts and learning how to perfectly balance it. Career training was all blades and steel, not sweets and ceramic.
"You know, none of this will be available to you in the arena."
Tallu had scolded him for the senseless eating, followed by a general tip to avoid eating with his hands so often, followed then by a look of disgust when he'd carved into a chicken thigh with his bare fingertips, juice and skin stuck under the nails. There's truth in the sentiment of preparing for the Games, just not in the execution. Jupiter knows its a trap, that a life of luxury only ends in gluttony and never ending desire. But he can't help it, he's a needle lost in a haystack of everything that glitters, eyes on the prize but constantly swayed by gold and silver laid out before him.
There's luxuries here not even One could afford, not that he'd ever known the upper limits of riches back there, anyways.
Besides, the Dining Hall had the added benefit of being an amazing spot to people watch and, as forced by his team, actually talk to his fellow tributes. There were a lot hungrier bellies than his ever was, he had the self-awareness to admit that, so it's easy to see why there was a constant stream of tributes filtering in and out of the hall.
He thinks it foolish, superiority complex riddling his brain. They should be training, hoping, wishing, not eating.
"Should eat more." Jupiter says as he sits down lazily diagonal to the nearest tribute, girl from three. Jupiter flicks through the list of names in his mind as if it will do him any good, bombardment of Capitol elites burying any hope of recognizing, connecting to any other tributes besides the Careers. "Nourishment before the arena, all that." He adds, splitting apart a chicken wing in two before devouring it. "Here-"
With a swipe of his hand he slides the small dessert plate over to her, croissant buried underneath a myriad of other assortments, "- dig in."
Testing the waters, seeing how she'd react to him, how he reacts to her. It's a game more fun than fulfilling, pretending soon-to-be opponents are friends, that enemies are allies.
Kindness couldn't exist between them, but neutrality could. At least, for now.