Stay Casual [Stare/Rook]

[rook]

p a n d o r a + w o o d a r d s

<sub>I've never told a lie,

And that makes me a liar.</sub>

[/sub][/color]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

<sub>The Train journey was grim. From the Justice Building, I was practically manhandled onto a glamorous, yet dull looking train. The doors were sealed behind me and I wasn't allowed so much as a final glance at my home District before the high-speed locomotive was jettisoned on it's route to the Capitol. It hurts, they allow you to say your goodbyes to your family, but not really to your home. In a way, it's just as bad.

There's no doubt that the train was set for the Capitol. The fabulous ornaments that I was sure shouldn't have be perched as precariously as they were on a fast-moving vehicle. The chairs were lined with velvet, probably from my District. The carpet was better than anything in our house, and it was a train. The mahogany tables looked valuable, I was careful not to damage them in any way. And then there was the food. Wow. There was so much of it, more luxury than I could ever imagined. Pig, fruit, some strange spongy tower that's decorated with brown goo. The latter didn't look as appetizing as food I'm familiar with, such as the pie.

It all looked fantastic, but at the same time it made me more depressed. Like they had put this buffet on the train almost in pity. It churned my stomach and made me less hungry. How ironic. I turned my nose up at the food and moved on down the train. There was a room for me and a room for Chloe. I didn't see much of her, I avoided her the entire trip. I knew we'll be trying to kill each other in a few days, so maybe it was best not to converse.

Looking back on the train journey, I can say that it did quell me a little. Still, I'm as nervous about this as with any part of the games, but at least I've come to terms that I am now a tribute and I need to start acting like one. That means no more thinking about Hope or Rubik, nor the last words we shared.

I stand in what is being called the Training Center. It's a place where Tributes live for a week in luxury and get to hone their skills, before displaying them to the judges at the end of the week. I'll get a training score, which will in turn give me better (Or worse) odds. The better odds I get, the more likely I am to get sponsors. Sponsors will be my lifeline. I'm starving, they send me food. I'm injured, they send me aid. It's all relative, and I need to do my best to impress, else risk doing this all on my own.

My reaping clothes are gone, replaced with a uniform. All the tributes are required to wear them in the Training Center. At this stage in the games, we're all equal. It's pretty plain, the only defining feature being a large "8" on my arm. It's my identity now. District Eight Male. Despite looking the same as everyone else, I need to get the attention of the Gamemakers in my private session. Maybe even get their attention in training.

If it's one thing I'm good at, it's impressing...

I also get my first glance at the other Tributes, who I'll be training alongside. No doubt tensions will be high between us all, but alliances will surely be made. The Career pack seems to already have formed, I consider myself big enough to ally myself with them, but they already know each-other and seem to not be very approachable. They'd likely laugh at the thought of me joining them, and I don't want to make enemies early.

They're all your enemies, jackass...

True. I can't consider anyone not to be my enemy. One of the people in this room will be my murderer. It just beckons the question: Who? As I'm shown around by a Capitol representative, I glance at other tributes. I know all their faces, I watched their Reaping videos on the train in. Jae Moreno, a shock tribute from District 1, I know he's somehow related to last Games' Reyes. No doubt he'll be in the Careers. A large bunch of attractive girls, no doubt as deadly as gorgeous. Most tributes looked shocked in their Reaping recaps, me as much as anyone else... Now? Now most of them ooze confidence. I must mirror this.

A lump forms in my throat as the instructor shows me the Weapons station. A few tributes are trying out the weapons, some look to handle them with ease, others are just making a fool of themselves with the heavier stuff. I'm tempted to show people my strength, but I can't reveal what little talent I have.

It annoys me that people are already forming alliances. I see two or three trios or quartets. Clusters of tributes plotting who's weak and who's dangerous. Am I dangerous? I'm one of the tallest guys in the room, so I take that as a yes. They still don't know how good or bad I am with a weapon. I don't intent to give that away. The instructor shows me to the rest of the stations: first aid, firemaking... The usual stuff. She nods and leaves me to the vacant stares of the other tributes.

I stand awkwardly for a while, looking around.
Don't make an idiot of yourself
I'm so nervous, I just walk away from the stares and go straight to the buffet of food. I nochalantly grab a bread roll, use my mouth to hold it, and grab two more. I walk way to the confused stares of some Gamemakers. I wave with the bread roll in my hand and start eating one, holding the other two in my left hand.

Yeah. I'd rather eat than train at the moment. I haven't done so since before the Reaping. As I tuck into the basic bread, I realize I should have tried the luxurious food on the train. Now my head has cleared, I feel less sick and I'm able to eat more. The others don't look like they've eaten much, but that's no consolation to me. I finish the first roll, leaning against the wall and watching some of the older tributes at the weapons stations. I look so casual, leaning and eating like I'm watching some kids in the park.

Don't I look confident?

I give a wry smile and start my second roll. I watch Chloe for a while, still not being sure who she is or what she's about. Maybe I should have gotten to know her, something could have come up to give me an edge against her, but I don't really label her as a threat. Elon, Jae, Klaus... The big guys... They're threats. At this point, I'm glad I was picked ahead of Rubik, he'd crumble in this situation, probably try to befriend some fourteen year old kids, make an idiot of himself. Learn how to light a fire or something. He'd lose face. I'm not one to lose face.

In my head I analyze my strengths and my weaknesses. I then decide that I want to cover my weaknesses more than I want to build on my strengths. This way I won't give away my raw power. It's probably evident anyway that I'm somewhat of a physical rival to the Careers, but having power and using power are different things. I could bet anything I'd be lethal with a mace.

As for my weaknesses? I'm clumsy and loud. If we're in a Forest Arena, I'd be easily detectable to any tribute in possession of ears.
Consider learning to tread more carefully
Okay, I can learn that. But I also want to become more able with a weapon, and I need to light fires. First Aid is also a priority that could prove key in the arena. And defending against attacks is important. I can't do it all, so I need to choose wisely.

Go get more food first

My stomach is right, I'm still hungry. I head over to the food table and grab some more rolls. Carbs are important. I can't overstock on fatty foods, but I do need to consider putting on weight to counteract starvation in the arena. Then again that could backfire and make me more prone to hunger. There's so much to consider.

I lean against my wall and sigh, my eyes losing themselves as tributes continue to train.</sub>

---

<sub>narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others
singing

notes: Rook/Stare thread.
theme: All the All Time Low.</sub>

[Stare]

Everybody tells me I don't know what I'm doing,
This life I'm pursuing, the odds of me losing.
Everybody tells me that it's one in a million,
more like one in a billion or one in a zillion.

Every room in this place is stylish. Glittering spires of silver are the modern version of plants, and then rise from shiny onyx cubes on the floor. The comforter of my bed is soft black velvet, and an abstract painting above it is spiraling white against gray. In the dining area, the chairs have twisted backs and the table is made of a beautifully rich colored wood. The floors have lime lollypop rugs, and the sofas are plush and overstuffed. There isn't a coaster out of place, not a single crooked mirror in the entire place. Everything is perfect in every possible way.

And that is why I hate it so much here.

The dining hall of the training center, everything is so perfect that I want to take some of the food and throw it at the sterile white wall, just for a little variety. I don't, though. Instead, I wrinkle my nose at the food in distaste. It's all too rich or sweet, in my opinion, because I'm so used to eating the plants I find in the woods. My tongue has adjusted to bland flavor and so has my stomach, both to the point where I can no longer enjoy such flavourful substances. I pick up a pink fruit and inhale before gently setting it down on the silver platter from which it came and instead choosing the most uninteresting piece of bread I can find. For perhaps a split second I consider going back to edible plants and just eating some of those, but when I glance over I see that the station is rather popular at the moment, and I sigh.

Training is going better than I had hoped, but I still feel it won't be enough to please Mr. Perfectionist, also known as my mentor, Julian. With him, it's always train harder, eat better, act more charming. He nearly had a heart attack when I told him I wasn't planning on trying to make any friends in training. Socialization has never been a strong suit of mine and Julian knows it, and yet he still pushes me toward it. I've been resisting all the way, of course, as if he's shoving me toward a cliff, even though I know that in truth he's just trying to help. Still, looking over the edge at that staggering height, I can't help but feel like the risk of falling isn't worth the miniscule chance that I'll grow wings and fly.

But then my eyes land on another tribute not too far away, and Julian's scolding all comes rushing back. I drop my head in defeat, glaring at the memories of my mentor, and then slowly walk over to him. I can't remember his district or even his name from the top of my head - Julian told me to analyze every tribute carefully, which of course meant that I did they exact opposite and ignored them all. His face seems slightly familiar, but not even a vague memory comes into mind. Still, I smile as if we are old friends when I approach him, hearing his sigh. "Training's rough," I agree, leaning against the wall next to him. "So much to remember and not nearly enough time."

And it's true. I'm cramming like a student before a final exam, trying to remember every single word my trainers are telling me, repeating survival tips over and over again in an attempt to burn them into my brain. Even just forgetting one simple thing could mean my death, and everyone here knows it. The Careers smirk at the struggle of those in the lesser districts, so I try to act tough and arrogant like them. Some, I think, might actually believe my act. Others just ignore me, which makes me fear that they can see right through it all. It's all just one big mind game, really - you have to act confident, look confident, be confident, or else you will indefinitely be the first to fall in the Bloodbath. In moments of doubt, I try to cling to that moment in the Justice Building when I vowed in my head to kill them all with no mercy. Here, though, everything is different. My victims have faces, they have names. Things aren't so black and white anymore.

"My name's Destiny, by the way," I say, stretching out a hand to him. "District Two. And you would be...?"

I hear it every day,
I hear it all the time,
I'm never going to amount to much
But they're never gonna change my mind, oh

[rook]

p a n d o r a + w o o d a r d s

<sub>I've never told a lie,

And that makes me a liar.</sub>

[/sub][/color]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

<sub>I wonder what Rubik's doing this very moment. My bet is that he's working. It's nearing midday, so maybe he's on his lunch break? What's he eating now that I'm not there to make him his delicious soups? That was one thing that Rubik always used to say: "If you put as much into your soups as you did into your work, you'd be higher up than me"... But of course, it was tongue-in-cheek. Soup making was different to material treatment. I enjoyed making soup. I didn't enjoy working at the plant.

You're thinking in past tense again...

I keep doing it. Like I'm already a dead man walking. I probably am, but it's not the right attitude to have if-
"Training's rough," Comes a voice to my left. I'm taken aback a little. A girl. A tribute. An enemy? How long had she been stood there? Seconds? Minutes? I'm caught on the spot here, never expecting someone to approach me. Coming over to this wall and eating bread was my way of telling everyone else to leave me to my thoughts. My forest of thoughts that didn't seem to have boundaries. I never thought I'd think of Rubik and Hope this much. The cloud was broken when she spoke, and now I'm brought back to crushing reality.

"So much to remember and not nearly enough time."</sub>

[/i] She speaks with confidence, like she knows me. She probably does; I bet she's analysed and studied everyone. I know her face. District Two... She volunteered! I smile as she says this, realizing who, or what she is. District Two volunteer, all the evidence points to one word: Career. So a Career has come to talk to me? It's more likely that she'd be hanging around with the other Careers instead of talking to me, so... Maybe I'm wrong?

She might have volunteered for other reasons.

What other reasons are there? Maybe she has no life to go back to. The more I think about it, the more likely it is that she's not a Career. She doesn't look physically built for this, I haven't seen her at any of the stations. I realize I'm ignoring the girl, who's name I can't recall. I glance at her, briefly before facing the fray of tributes practicing how to die. Silence speaks louder than words. I open my mouth, but then:

"My name's Destiny, by the way," Her hand extends to shake, I hesitate for a split second, but then return the gesture with the hand that the bread isn't in.
"District Two. And you would be...?" She asks. She's being polite. She knows me... If she's District Two then she's seen my reaping video, most likely.

Who is this girl? Career or Attention Seeker? I search for reasons to why she volunteered in place of that other District Two girl. There are three possibilities: She's doing it for fun, she's a career. The second option is that she knows the girl and she's taking her place. The third is that she's in it for some wild shot at fame. She doesn't look stupid, so I rule the third option out. Career or friend. That's what I'm left with. Is there even any point in trying to figure her out? She's either analyzing every movement I make and figuring out my weaknesses, or she's being polite. I find myself so confused that I just wipe my mind clean and decide to just talk to her.

Go on Pan'... Make small-talk with the enemy...

She waits for an answer, I sigh once more, keeping the calm persona I had planned from the start. I make my voice sound fed up: "Pandora, District Eight..." I hold remaining roll of bread in my left hand. I say it as if I'm talking to the bread, and not her.

Training Rough? Do I look that exhausted? I haven't even done anything yet. Better make something up. No. I shouldn't lie, she's probably been watching me. Analyzing and planning. Will she be my murderer? What do I say?

Just be yourself.[/color]

Yeah. Why pretend to be determined and focused, calm and collective? Just be Pandora. Cocky, arrogant, flirty, sleazy Pandora. It's all I've ever known to be... And some stupid death sentence isn't going to stop me from being what I've always been. An ass.

I smirk, facing Destiny and placing my hand on the wall. I raise an eyebrow, I feel myself fill with confidence as a little bit of the Pandora I know and love returns to me. Not permanently. I can't afford to lose focus and get myself killed. Just here, just talking to this girl. Here I'm safe from harm, here I can afford to relax and be myself... Even if just for a few days.

"To be honest, I'm just here for the food..." I say with a bite of the bread. I chew, staring directly into her eyes. I'm staring her out. It's a good way to gauge her confidence, to see who she really is.

Who are you, Destiny Lenstil?

[/color][/sub][/blockquote][/blockquote]

---

<sub>narrative
thoughts
personal speech
speech of others
singing

notes: Rook/Stare thread.
theme: All Time Low - "Jasey Rae".</sub>