So this is Goodbye (District 6 Tributes)

[angel4030]

Action: 990000
Speech: CC6666
Thoughts: CC6600

Fawn Raiys
~ What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger ~
~ Stand a little taller ~
~Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone~.

I can walk without an escort, Fawn thought with short glare to the peacekeepers on either side of her. With a sigh, she took a moment to glance around the hallways as they marched past. The lavishly decorated walls and plush carpet made Fawn sick as she thought of how many others could use the money for more important things, like food. I might as well get to know this part of my District since I won’t be coming back, she thought grimly as paintings of each mayor hung delicately on the wall to her right. Each room they passed was either opened to reveal expensive furniture and other unnecessary pieces here and there while others were sealed by large, oak doors.

“You only have a few minutes as the volunteering caused everything to be behind schedule,” the taller peacekeeper instructed before swiftly turning and shutting the door with a bang. Fawn took shallow breaths as the day’s events caught up with her. I was chosen for the games, a boy volunteered for the boy tribute, and now I’m expected to say my last goodbyes to the people I love, she thought and as the last item scrolled though her mind, Fawn could not help but let out a tearless sob. The door she had entered through slowly opened and Fawn immediately straightened before smoothing out her dress and composing herself. As if on cue, five little forms rushed into the room and trapped Fawn in a sea of small arms, tear streaked faces, and broken whimpers. Fawn bit down hard on her tongue, letting the metallic taste erupt in her mouth. I must stay strong, for them and for myself. If I cry now, I’ll never stop and I will appear weak, she thought before bending down carefully and looking into each pair of eyes that matched her own.

”Hey now, are those tears I see?” she murmured, carefully wiping each face dry. ”Now how do you expect me to go off to the Capitol when I know there are five sad faces moping back here,” Fawn continued, trying her best to lighten the mood. Ghost like smiles peered out on each little face, but she knew nothing would make the full blown smiles she was used to seeing appear. Taking each of her brothers to the side one by one, Fawn looked them in the eye and promised them she would not give up on winning so long as they promised something in return: that no matter what happened, they were to stick together as a family and take care of one another.

Her two youngest brothers agreed quickly before giving her a hug and Fawn knew that they truly believed she would win. If only I stood a chance, she thought sadly before sending them back. Her other three brothers who were old enough to understand the severity of the situation were harder to consol. Eventually, Fawn managed to comfort each of them as best she could and send them off with a departing hug, kiss, and loving word.

“You are very good with them,” a familiar voice soothed and Fawn glanced up from her hands to see her grandmother slowly entering the room. With the boys now gone, she let a few stray tears trickle down her cheeks before wrapping her arms around her grandmother. “I-I don’t know what to do,” Fawn admitted, letting her vulnerability show for only the second time since the death of her mother. Wiping away any trace of the tears, she followed her grandmother to a plush couch in the center of the room.

“I know you don’t, darling, and nobody would expect you to. You don’t always have to have the answers to everything,” her grandmother replied with a soft smile. Fawn sighed and gave a small nod, simply enjoying the peaceful moment she had sitting next to her grandmother. “I have something I want you to have,” her grandmother suddenly said before carefully placing a small bundle of cloth in Fawn’s hand. With a quick glance at her grandmother’s face, Fawn unfolded the cloth to find a small necklace inside. It was a chain with a small, golden heart on the end. The heart was adorned with small flowers and vines, carefully carved into its surface.

“It was your mothers,” Fawn heard her grandmother muse wistfully. “I know you are not very fond of jewelry, but I thought this would be the perfect token for you. It will keep your family and home close.” Fawn felt her throat close with the emotions she held back. The handful of tears that had escaped earlier were the only ones she would let through. Giving her grandmother a short nod, Fawn reached up and clasped the simple necklace around her thin neck. With a final glance at the door, her grandmother stood and held Fawn close once more. “When you get on the train, I would like you to push the small piece on the side of the heart, but not before,” Fawn heard her grandmother’s voice whisper before she disappeared. Fawn carefully felt the heart until her finger discovered the piece, but she pulled away and decided to follow her grandmother’s request. Aren’t they going to ‘escort’ me to the train? Fawn wondered idly when the doors opened once more. Expecting the peacekeepers, she straightened herself and looked up with a guarded expression only to be taken off guard to see her father.

Fawn stiffened and eyed the man in front of her warily. “What do you want?” she asked with an unreadable expression. He made his way towards her before running his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I know I have not been the best father since..” he began and Fawn watched with an indifferent expression as pain flashed through her father’s eyes. “But I am your father, and I wanted to see you,” he finally continued before looking up at her with pleading eyes. Fawn crossed her arms and replied coldly, “Well here I am, it’s not like you have taken much interest in me for the past few years and I have to get on the train” Her father took in her stone cold expression before nodding in understanding. “I understand, I just want you to know that I do in fact care for you and I will be rooting for you,” he said before making his way out of the room.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on him, Fawn thought as the peacekeepers reappeared and began marching her towards the train. Memories of all the times he had not been there for her nor the family prodded her mind and Fawn pinched her lips together in anger, No, he deserved it and has no right to call himself my father. Looking over the sleek train, Fawn squinted her eyes as the sun danced off of its smooth and bright surface. I suppose I should get used to bright lights, after all from what I’ve seen, the Capitol is practically built of bright lights and shiny buildings, she thought before climbing onto the train. As the door slammed shut behind her, Fawn slowly wandered into a large compartment of the train filled with couches and chairs. Staring out the window, she watched as her District, slowly at first but then in a blinding flash, disappeared from view.

Carefully pushing the small piece on the edge of her heart pendent, Fawn’s eyes widened as it opened. It was not a necklace or pendent, but rather a locket. Carefully opening the tiny compartment, Fawn found two small pictures stowed away inside. On the left side was a small picture of her mother, young, vibrant, and healthy. On the right side was a small picture of her brothers that had been taken only a year ago. Running her index finger over both pictures, Fawn smiled slightly before closing the locket gently and pressing it against her chest. At least if I die in the Games, I will die with a piece of home she thought before making her way further into the train to find her mentor and fellow District Six Tribute.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

[/b]

-----
When I hear that trumpet sound
I will lay my burdens down
I will lay them deep into the ground
Then I'll know that I am glory bound
------

There wasn’t time to have any fear. There wasn’t time to regret. This was real. This was now. In the moments that the words crept from his lips, Cyrus was swept up to the stage to accept his spot in a flurry of motion.

There were flashes of light, there was a scattering of applause, and he could see out into the sea of haunting faces as he spoke his name once again. Cyrus Malloc. His voice cracked as he felt his face twitch in a mixture of fear and adrenaline. He could feel hands on his shoulders as they turned him to get away from the crowd. He looked out to the sea of faces to try and find Naif, but his brother was lost in this ocean of the unnamed, of boys and girls that would become men and women without Cyrus. He began to breathe heavily as he felt himself swept up in the order of the procession. He knew good and well that he would be taken to the Justice Building, that he would get some time with his family to say goodbye.

As his spine tingled and his hairs prickled upwards on his arms, he felt his neck and face grow hot with each step. There had not been a district 6 victor in some time. His chances of victory were small, perhaps infinitely so. He had no combat training, he was barely able to speak to anyone outside of his family, and he knew there would be suspicion of any tribute that volunteered themselves outside of a career district. He tried to calculate odds in his head.

Numbers were the only thing that comforted him, their orderliness neither good nor evil, but he couldn’t put together anything in his trembling, jumbling mess. He tried to stop, to bend over his knees and catch his breath, but he was pushed further forward. He was chattel to the capitol now—perhaps valuable if only for the part he was to play. He was a number, a set of numbers, odds, bets, hopes, desires, wishes…

You are wonderful. You are brave. You are smart. You have a reason to live, you have a reason that you will not die. You will not kill the way the others do. You will not hurt others in malice or rage. You will be okay. You will be safe. You have to be brave, you have to be better, you have to stop shaking. Stop shaking. Stop, stop, stop! You are a tribute, you are yourself… please, please, I’m so scared, please why did I do this, please, please…

[/color]

Cyrus took a few quick breaths as he brought his hands to his eyes and wiped away the wetness that dripped down. He rubbed his arm across his nose, and felt a brush from the turquoise bracelet. This was the trinket that held so much value for him because it reminded him to be free. He needed to be free, to escape from this gray void that was district 6. He had seen it on the faces of the other District 6 children: there was no hope to be had here. It was death of another kind to stay here, to keep working as a welder, and to wind up alone and forgotten. He twisted the turquoise in his hand and let out a muffled whimper. He wished he could feel the arms of her around him again—just for that moment when his heart and head were warring with one another.

Please, someone, anyone, lead me the right way. Let me be strong. Let me get through this. I will have my freedom. I will escape this. I will make it out—I will survive. I am a survivor. I am not a boy, I am a man. I am Cyrus Malloc, I am the tribute from district 6. I will not perish—I… I need to be strong. Please, please let me have my dignity.[/color]

The long walk, or rather, to Cyrus the thousands of steps taken seemed heavier with the weight that now sat upon his chest, ended upon facing the miserable stone of the Justice Building. He knew that this would be the hardest part of his journey. He would have to steel himself for what his family would say. Would they say anything at all? Would they even come? The last thing that he needed now was to leave them in misery and anguish. He needed them to be brave for him, even if at that moment he could not be brave for himself. His slow, steady steps up the stone edifice made him take another deep breath. He closed his eyes, searching for something, anything to quell his shaking hands. He grabbed his wrist once again and tightened his expression. Give me strength. He straightened his posture and let out another deep breath.

-----
I'll be travelling far from home
But I won't be looking for to roam
I'll be crossing o'er the great divide
In a better home soon I will reside
-----

They would give him five minutes with his family. They had told him this as he sat in a cushioned chair near a window that looked out on the ceremony that had just occurred. People still milled about, and Cyrus tried to count all the peacekeepers to relax himself. Counting had a way of relaxing him even in the darkest of circumstances. As he approached forty-seven, the knob on the doorway turned, and Cyrus stood to face his family.

A tall, well-built man with a five o’clock shadow entered, dressed in his shirt, tie, and slacks. A frail woman with long plaited brown hair and a somber brown dress followed close behind. She looked back to motion to a scared looking teen for him to enter. This was no time for a lack of courage. His mother, father, and brother entered the room but said nothing. As the door closed behind them, Cyrus could only stare down at the floor in front of them.

He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, and the dribble of warm, salty tears splash against his neck. Naif wept into his brother’s shoulder, his freckled face contorted and heaving as he gripped Cyrus. “You have to win, you have to win… please, please Cyrus, please don’t—d-d-don’t. You’re not like all the rest. You’re good Cyrus, you’re really good. You can get through this, you can,[/b]” Naif whimpered out as he touched Cyrus’ chin to make him glance upwards at him. The two brothers locked in a glance, and Cyrus let out a short gasp. “You’re better than all this, these… these stupid f—king games. You’re better than this, you can win, I know you can win…”

Naif had always been the good brother. He had always supported Cyrus, even looked up to him for all his faults. He helped his brother to understand just what people meant, just why girls made eyes at boys, and what slang words were supposed to mean. And they would laugh and giggle at boyish things—because Cyrus still liked to play imaginary games with his younger brother for some time. He still loved to play with their make believe toys, and to play peacekeepers-and-wanders together. And when they had become teens, Cyrus watched his younger brother move forward and mature in a way he still could not—perhaps ever—fully understand.

“I will be okay, Naif. I will come back and we will sit in our beds and laugh and laugh… I will, I promise you,[/b]” Cyrus pushed out, not letting himself get overcome with the anxiety that betrayed his voice. He had nothing but love, but warm wanting for his brother. His brother that his parents cherished. His faithful companion, his better half. He would be saddest of all to leave him.

“Cyrus…” The deep voice of his father drifted off as Naif stepped back to wipe his eyes. Cyrus looked up at him, unmoved. Devon Malloc had expected so much of Cyrus. He had expected a young boy that would be his to play catch with, and someone to teach about the mysteries of women and life. One that he could be proud of for his accomplishments. And instead he had gotten a boy riddled with complexities. His little autistic child that knew nothing of how to speak to him, or anyone. One that was clumsy and aloof. One that liked numbers better than people. He never thought of women—he had barely stopped playing imaginary games before Devon had gotten him a position as a welder. He cleared his throat.

“My boy… you… you…[/b]” Devon wanted to say fool, but stopped himself. He wanted to bash Cyrus’ head in for bringing about this… this travesty of a volunteering. Devon knew his son was not a victor. He wasn’t even fit enough to survive the bloodbath. He was going to fall over his own sword and perish in a pathetic display in front of the whole world. And he would be ashamed. Devon would lose a son—the son he’d wanted so badly that had turned out as a dud. He clenched his fists together and looked up at the ceiling. “F—k! Just… you… Cyrus… oh, Cyrus…[/b]”

-----
Hallelujah…
Hallelujah…
-----

Devon had tears in his eyes now, and brought his fist against one of the walls. He had such little time to say anything, and he had yet to form a sentence. He looked to his son, his terrible, beautiful, failed, obnoxious, wonderful, amazing son. His boy. For even in the moments that Cyrus had confused or angered Devon, he still loved him. He was his son. He was not Naif, nor would he ever be. But he did not want to have to say goodbye to his son. He would not bury his son. He would not. Cyrus would be a victor. He had to be.

At last he brought a hand down upon Cyrus’ shoulder and kept his voice from cracking. “I’m proud of you Cyrus. I’m proud of you no matter what happens out there. And when they come after you, you run, Cyrus. You hear me? You don’t f—king stay there to be a target. You’re going to make it out of there… I know you will…[/b]”

Cyrus wrapped his arms around this man—how long had it been since the two had done so?—and as he peered over Devon’s shoulder, saw the eyes of his mother. She was the one that had kept him safe for so long. The one that had loved him, in spite of all the confusion and hurt, of all the joy and laughter. He stepped back from his father and looked to Eloise as he tried to remain expressionless. He had felt his anxiety recede some at the voice of his father, but the wall he had built for himself was crumbling.

------
When I'm in my resting place
I'll look on my mother's face
Never more will I have to know
All the loneliness that plagues me so
-----

“Mama, I have to go away…[/b]” He says as he tiptoes toward her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and rested a head on her shoulder. He took another breath, and felt the strength he’d had melt. He wept into her shoulder but tried to stay strong. A losing battle for sure, but he wanted her to hear that he loved her. That he needed her to stay strong. That she could hold the family together, even as weak as she was, without him. “Please know I did this for me. That I did this because I… I…[/b]”

His mother stroked his hair and shushed him. Eloise patted him on the back and swung his shoulders back and forth. He had been her first child. He was the one that experienced her inexperience. He had seen them grow from a small apartment to a home. He had struggled and fussed. He had been labeled as different under her watch, and she did all she could for him. All she could, which was never enough. But would it have ever been enough for this boy? No. And she had accepted some time ago that his destiny was outside of her grasp.

A calm had beset her at his volunteering. She should have been weeping like the other mothers of child tributes most likely were. And she would too, at some point in time. Whether it was watching him prepare for the games, or while he was inside of the arena, she would be overcome with emotion and shed tears. But now she had to be his mother. She had to be the woman who gave him all she could, as was her duty. She had to push him and raise him up beyond what he ever thought possible. Maybe he would not be the victor of these games—she could be honest that the careers were profoundly more adept—but she could see him with a coronet around his head. And that was all she needed as comfort.

“You are my brave little boy, Cyrus. You are my sunshine. You are wonderful.[/b]” She said this all as her grip around him grew tighter. She pulled back to look into his face. She smiled at him, despite the dripping of his nose and the wiping of his eyes. Protect him. She would do what she could to see this through. “You are powerful beyond measure Cyrus. You are so wonderful, you make me so proud. Please don’t look at me like that… you know that I love you, Cyrus. I will always, always love you. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

Cyrus heard his mother hum a tune from his childhood and he stopped quivering. He hugged her tightly and finally wiped his face of everything. He could do this. If she could be strong, he could pull himself together. There was no regretting his decision. He fought for them—for himself—for district 6. And as the door opened and their brief time together was cut short, he looked to all of them, saying, “I love you… I love you…[/color][/b]”

-----
So I'm waiting for that train to come
And I know where she's coming from
Listen can you hear her on the track
When I board I won't be looking back
-----

As he was moved to the train, he took one last, fleeting look to the place he was leaving forever. The place that held his history and a life unfulfilled. And he looked to his wrist, to the jangling turquoise gift of so long ago, and then to the train platform. He was heading towards a freedom unlike he’d ever known. Whether that meant the sun would shine for him another day, well, he would have to count his blessing each time he opened up his eyes. For now, he would be strong now knowing that he had a chance.

He made his way inside, knowing that the other tribute would be somewhere inside. As he plodded along the corridors, he searched for her and his mentor. He hoped that she would at least be friendly. He knew that the games were a difficult task. Perhaps he would not have to face them entirely alone.

-----
Hallelujah…
Hallelujah…
-----

[/blockquote][/size]

[angel4030]

Action: 990000
Speech: CC6666
Thoughts: CC6600

Fawn Raiys
~ What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger ~
~ Stand a little taller ~
~Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone~.

Fawn found herself wandering the different compartments of the train. Suddenly, she heard one of the main doors to the train open, allowing the voices from the district to drift inside. They’re all safe, she thought as the voices murmured in the background. Although she could not make out their words, she knew each was talking about the reaping. They would feel pity for those reaped and relief knowing they would not suffer any losses themselves this year. I don’t want their pity, Fawn thought, scowling to herself as she remembered the looks of pity that sprung up through the crowd as she stood on the stage accepting her death sentence. She momentarily wondered what her family was doing at the moment. Had her father joined them? Or was he off getting drunk while her brothers and grandmother locked themselves up in the house to mourn. Fawn was not sure, but she did know that her focus needed to be on the Games rather than those staying at home.

Again the train door slammed shut and this time Fawn knew it would be closing for the last time. She would not be able to escape the confines of the train until they reached the Capitol. A slight movement alerted her that the train had begun its journey and she froze. I can’t do this, she began to panic as the severity of the situation finally hit her. The ambush of emotions that she had suppressed around her family finally broke free in a whirlwind of chaos. Stumbling back slightly, Fawn caught herself on the hallway wall as her heartbeat raced and her breaths became shallow and rapid. How can I possibly compete with kids who have been trained their whole lives to find and kill people. To do whatever it takes to destroy other tributes, like me, she continued as nausea built up within her and she had forced herself to slide down the wall slowly to prevent herself from becoming sick. She could barely feel the train moving as it sped away from District Six, but Fawn knew it was moving. Working hard to calm down, Fawn allowed herself to think of her family as the black spots faded from her vision.

***

”You will come back though, right?” her brother, Wren, had pressed. He was the oldest of her younger brothers and knew that the odds were against his sister winning the games. Fawn had held him tight by the shoulders as she searched his red-rimmed eyes. “You’re old enough to know what I’m up against, she had begun and she watched as he struggled in her grasp. Shaking him gently, Fawn demanded his attention, “But what I can promise is that I will try my hardest and I can assure you I won’t go down without a fight.” He had nodded once before hugging her tight and Fawn quickly returned the hug, knowing it could very well be the last time she ever held him in her arms.

***

Fawn let out a shuddering breath and clenched her fists. What is wrong with me? Am I really going to break down here? she asked herself before shaking her head once. “No,” she said, determination leaking into her voice and body as she pushed away her fear. Hefting herself up, Fawn made her way to a nearby window and watched as trees flew past as only blurs of green and brown. One glance at the darkening sky informed her that it would be time for dinner soon enough. I guess I’d better make myself look decent, she grumbled before trudging towards the door she had passed earlier that appeared to be hers. Fawn never liked to get dressed up or trying to make a huge impression. She normally could not care less what others thought of her, but in the back of her mind, Fawn knew that she had to look decent from now on and attempt to hold back her snappy remarks. If she was going to stand a chance, she could not appear to be an easy target. Tears or red-rimmed eyes from a breakdown could be seen as a moment of weakness and now more than ever, she would not allow herself to appear vulnerable.

Entering the room, she allowed herself a moment to gape at the splendor of the room. A bed with sheets, Fawn knew were worth enough to feed her family for a month, dominated the room while a dresser stood proudly near the window and a full length mirror stood next to a door she assumed to lead to the bathroom. Of course, only the best things would do for us. We wouldn’t want to be uncomfortable or troubled on our way to the Games, she thought sarcastically as she surveyed the room once more before entering the bathroom. Ignoring the shelves upon shelves of different products, some of which Fawn had never heard of before nor did she know what they were even for, she stood in front of the mirror and took in her battered expression. Just as she expected, her hair was slightly frazzled with pieces sticking up in odd directions and a slight tint of red colored her eyes and face. Grabbing a nearby washcloth, Fawn washed her face with cool water before setting to work on brushing her chocolate brown hair.

Grandmother would be pleasantly surprised if she saw me taking the time to make myself look presentable, she thought with a small smile before putting the brush away and glancing once more at her reflection. Fawn glanced once at the shelves of makeup before letting her gaze flicker down to her wrists. The faded scars that dotted her wrists were slowly but surely reappearing under the bit of cover up she had hidden them with earlier that day. Showing the scars to her grandmother had been only one of the two times she had allowed vulnerability to show, the second time being at the Justice Building. Carefully examining each product, she finally found what she was looking for and easily unscrewed the lid before apply a bit of the smooth cream to each wrists. Within minutes, the marks of weakness were once again hidden behind a layer of makeup.

Fawn had never taken an interest in makeup and the products were so expensive that she never understood why any girls would waste money on them. She saw providing for her family as a priority over painting yourself with makeup. A small shudder ran through her as she realized that when she arrived at the Capitol, she would have a prep team that would immediately set to work on ‘fixing her.’ I’m going to end up strangling one of them before they finish dressing me up like some doll she thought, grimacing at the thought of being prodded and poked by anyone, much less those from the Capitol. Inspecting herself once more in the mirror, Fawn nodded once, deciding she looked presentable enough, before making her way back into the hallway. Glancing in either direction, she realized she didn’t know which way the dinning cart was, or even which way she had come.

Eyeing both sides of the hallway once more, Fawn shrugged and turned to the left to begin searching for any signs of the dinning cart or any of the people that were supposed to be on the train. Where is everyone anyways? she wondered with a slight frown, realizing she still had not run into her mentor, escort, or the other tribute from District Six. Thinking about the other tribute, Fawn momentarily wondered why he would volunteer. As far as she knew there were not any connections between him and the boy who was reaped and Careers were normally only found in Districts One, Two, and Four. Lost in her own thoughts, Fawn did not notice someone else was in the hallway until she ran into them.

“Oof,” she grunted as a hard body collided with hers, sending her staggering back a few steps. Regaining her balance by grasping the hallway walls once again, Fawn looked up to see the boy who had volunteered earlier that day. Well speaking of him.. she thought before composing herself and standing up straight. At least I know I’m not the only one on the train, she thought before eyeing the boy in front of her, her guards already up as she kept a neutral expression on her face. Fawn did not trust others easily and the fact that the boy in front of her would soon be in an arena with her where only one person would survive did not help her feel comfortable around him.

Realizing that she had not really said anything to him or even interacted with him other than running into him, Fawn took a breath and reluctantly started a conversation. “I’m Fawn,” she introduced although she knew he probably already heard her name when she was called on the stage. What Fawn as mostly hoping for was to hear his name since she had been too caught up in her own chaotic thoughts to hear his name when he had volunteered. Glancing down the hallway, Fawn debated on whether finding the boy on this side of the train meant she was going in the right or wrong direction. “Hey, um, you wouldn’t happen to know where our mentor or escort is, would you? Or the dinning cart?" Fawn asked, trying her best to be friendly, but opening up to strangers was not something she was used to.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

The train was a world unto itself for Cyrus. The rooms were all done up in elaborate colors, with the finest woods and metals he had ever seen in his life. Here a pine table, a mahogany, a curved bit of steel that had been adorned with semi-precious stones: he was in awe of its splendor. He took some time to run his hands along the smooth walls of the train and to stare out the windows at the landscape that was flashing by him. The drab gray of district six was being replaced by rolling flora and fauna, a world that Cyrus had only seen in books with his mother. Oh, how he wanted to be able to tell her of the things that he was seeing.

He could think of when he would sit in bed with her, and she would tell him about the mysterious animals and shrubs that were outside the district walls. She would show him pictures of beautiful flowers and name them, of vines that would cause itchy red bumps, and little berries that looked delicious but were deadly to the taste. “Poison ivy… that’ll leave you itching for days, Cy!

[/color]” And little Cyrus would soak it all in like a sponge. The one thing that connected him to others, and with his mother, was his love of learning. He was never more mesmorized when she showed him something spectacular that he did not know. He may not have been the best at talking, writing, or playing with others, but he loved to learn.

And now he had to take this to task with the games. He had to stay strong, even with the pang in his stomach as thoughts of his mother flowed through his mind. This was what he had wanted. It was what she wanted for him. He was seeing all that he would never have seen otherwise. He was slowly cracking through the shell that held him, bit by bit. And though he still felt brittle and scared (and hopelessly lost), he could at least marvel at everything this train had to offer. He took a few more steps down the hall and into another compartment.

It was then that he ran smack into the girl that he had been looking for—though he had to say that he had been moving rather slowly—and he backed off for a moment to look her up and down. His usual blank stare remained as he watched Fawn. Surely she didn’t mean to run into me? This wasn’t some form of intimidation she was trying to use against me? He looked into her eyes and listened to her speak, and realized that she was merely looking for their mentor and escort. He shook his head no, and did not say anything. He merely stared at her, his brain still trying to process how he was to say anything to Fawn.

She was the other District Six tribute. In a few short days, they would be together in the arena, and they would have to kill one another. They were obligated to make sure that only one of the two of them remained standing at the end. Cyrus tried to comprehend this, but still struggled now that he was faced with it. He could not kill the girl from his own district. She was rather pleasant looking, after all. And there were so many others that likely were more skilled in battle that could do the job. He reasoned—Cyrus did a lot of reasoning—that perhaps he could get to know her some at the very least.

He had so many questions that bubbled at the surface. Where was she from in the District? Who were her parents? Did she have a big family? Had she trained at all for the games? What was her favorite color? Did she like cake?[/color]. And yet he didn’t move to ask her any of this. He felt the anxiety rise in him again as it always did. He hated talking to anyone, for fear of being seen as slow or stupid. He struggled understanding what anyone felt, and hating saying the wrong thing. Would she make an enemy of me for saying something stupid?[/color]

“Hello. My name is Cyrus Malloc. I haven’t seen anyone else.[/b]” He started with this, which was easy enough. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the window, and then to Fawn. “I… I’m not sure where they are…” He stared at her again and blinked. He was so stupid.[/color] Couldn’t he say anything else, anything at all?

“How… are you?[/color]” Cyrus chirped out, as he backed up against a table, nearly knocking over a glass vase. He gasped as he spun around and managed to save the thing from tipping over, though in the process he managed to look like a complete goofball. He stared back at Fawn and sighed. Well, maybe it was best just to be honest with her. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the ground. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all this yet. I mean the games! Not talking with you. I’d like to talk with you.[/b]”
[/blockquote][/size]

[angel4030]

Action: 990000
Speech: CC6666
Thoughts: CC6600

Fawn Raiys
~ What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger ~
~ Stand a little taller ~
~Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone~.

Fawn watched the boy carefully as he stood frozen for a few moments simply returning her stare. Finally, he gave a quick shake of his head to her questions, but still refused to speak. Did I say something wrong? Or is he naturally this quiet? she couldn’t help but wonder. Who am I to complain? If he doesn’t talk then I don’t have to try to talk a back and everything will be great, she told herself, but something about him made her feel like he did want to say something.

Finally, he introduced himself as Cyrus and Fawn gave him a short nod, still unsure of him. As he paused once again, she internally slapped herself for starting a conversation with him. He obviously doesn’t want to talk to me and I don’t like talking to people anyways so I might as well just keep looking for the dinning cart, she thought curtly. Just as she was about to continue down the hall, he crossed his arms and Fawn immediately tensed. She knew fighting before reaching the arena was not allowed, but with no witnesses, would he really care? Did he know I was going to keep moving? Is he threatening me? Should I even still be here? she began to think, her body ready for anything and her mind spinning with ridiculous scenarios. Meeting his gaze, Fawn searched his eyes to try and see what his intentions were when he suddenly spoke up again. The way he struggled with his words and the awkward expression on his face had Fawn relaxing a bit and she tried to figure her fellow tribute out.

”I don’t really know either, so I guess we’re both up the creek without a paddle,” Fawn replied, using a saying she had picked up from her grandmother over the years. As thoughts of her grandmother invaded her mind, Fawn unconsciously reached up and held the small heart locket between her two fingers, letting the flower engravings press into her skin slightly. An awkward silence fell over the pair and Fawn shifted her weight slightly, not quite sure what to do. In most situations she would have already left and put as much space between herself and the boy, Cyrus, as possible. Fawn could not find it in her to simply walk away as she looked up to see Cyrus struggling to find something to say to her. “How are you?” he blurted out and she could not help but raise an eyebrow at that question. Well considering I’m on a train that will soon deliver me to my death, I’d say I’m having a bad day Fawn instinctively wanted to say, but she remembered how she needed to keep her smart comments to herself and try to make friends rather than enemies. Ugh, I guess he doesn’t deserve it anyways, she admitted, reviewing how soft spoken and kind he had been so far.

“As good as I can be I guess,” she murmured finally, continuing to grasp the locket as if it were a life line as she gazed out the window to her left. Lights flashed past and she momentarily wondered which district they were passing. She knew they were not the lights of the Capitol since they would not be arriving until the morning, but the thought of how close they were rolled in her stomach. Forcing herself to look away, she returned her attention to Cyrus just as he backed into a small table where an expensive vase had been resting. She felt her eyes widen and her arms instinctively reach out as if to save the falling item, but luckily he caught the vase before it could shatter.

“Nice reflexes,” Fawn heard her voice wonder aloud and she quickly backtracked. And those reflexes will help him in the arena, she realized as she tensed up out of habit. “That will really help you in the games, she finally told him, thinking about her own slim chances of surviving even the first day. As Cyrus stumbled over his next words, Fawn could not help but smile slightly. She did not mean to mock him, but she slowly felt her resistance waver as he proved to be kinder than what she had anticipated.

With a small chuckle, she gave him a reassuring smile, the first real smile to grace her lips all day. Fawn could not help but relax further as he tried not to offend her and she decided he didn't seem like much of a threat. Yet. “Don’t worry, I know what you mean. I don’t mind talking to you either, she assured him when an unfamiliar voice suddenly rang out from the opposite end of the train. “Dinner time children!” the voice practically tweeted and Fawn grimaced slightly at how high pitched it was. We’re hardly children, she grumbled to herself, but kept these feelings behind sealed lips. “I guess they’re down that way and so is the dinning cart,” she said, motioning in the direction where the voice had come from.

Leading the way, Fawn took a deep breath and made her way down the hallway until she reached the compartment where mouth watering scents of different foods emanated. Eyeing the table, she found there to be an entire buffet laid out with beautiful silverware and place settings circling the table. Slowly sitting in the chair their escort directed her to, she silently served herself a healthy portion of food before digging into the meal. Fawn nearly sighed as she took the first bite. The food tasted just as wonderful, if not better than it smelt. At first, she began to relax as each person ate their meal in a comfortable silence, but soon their escort began chattering away. She fired question after question and Fawn felt her patience with the brightly dressed woman to be wearing thin.

A loud snort suddenly cut the woman off and Fawn turned to find their mentor leaning back in his chair with a bottle of some sort of alcohol clutched close to his chest. “Can’t you see they don’t give a rat’s *ss about your nonsense, Trina,” he sneered at the escort, Trina, before lazily setting his gaze upon Fawn and Cyrus. A burning hate towards the man lounging in front of her began to simmer the longer she stared at the pathetic excuse for a mentor. His skin was a sickly shade of yellow with bloodshot eyes sunken into his skull. During the entire meal he had been drinking alcohol as if it were water and Fawn had had just about enough of him. “They aren’t going to last long anyways,” he concluded before coughing loudly and grabbing another roll from the table.

“Why don’t you keep your comments to yourself before I beat you with that bottle,” Fawn threatened with a scowl, earning herself a disapproving look from Trina. He has no right to say a word about us when he looks like he hasn’t ingested anything other than alcohol and drugs for the past few years she thought bitterly as their mentor leaned across the table so that she could easily smell his alcohol drenched breath. His next comment had her practically boiling over with fury and she felt her fists clench over and over as she battled with the intense urge to simply punch him in the face as hard as she could. It was not so much his comments that made her temper rise, but rather how true they were, at least when it came to her. She knew she had hardly a chance of returning to her brothers, but hearing the cruel man state the fact mad her blood boil. Pushing the sadness that had crept into her away, she focused on suppressing her anger. I just need to walk away, be the bigger person,[/i] she chanted to herself over and over before unwillingly pushing her chair back and standing.

“I think I’m going to get some air,” she said through clenched teeth before turning and heading towards the door connecting the dinning compartment with the hallway. Fawn felt a sudden urge to invite Cyrus to come with her, letting her gaze flicker to him momentarily. Mentally shaking her head, she decided that he would come if he truly felt like it. After all, he probably thinks I’m just a temperamental girl he needs to avoid now, she thought, suddenly feeling a pang of sadness at the possibility of loosing her possible friendship with him. Shaking her head and focusing on where she was going, she only walked a bit down the hallways before stopping. Finally resting in the middle of the hallway, she let her anger slowly recede from her body as she sat on the floor for the second time since she had arrived on the train.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

[/b]

When she spoke again Cyrus stared at her. She seemed to be depressed about their lot, at least, referencing the fact that they had no paddle in a busy moving creek indicated as such. Cyrus chewed his lip. It would help if one of them could be positive about the future, right? Then it wouldn’t feel so painful. Then maybe they might have a shot at showing the rest of the districts that they weren’t determined to be the unnamed dead laying in a pile during the bloodbath on day one. No,

[/color] Cyrus thought as he glanced at Fawn’s pleasant features once again and shrugged his shoulders, As impossible as this may be, I’m going to make sure the both of us get out of the bloodbath alive. At least this I can promise her.[/color]

He felt somewhat silly showing off his ‘reflexes’, considering his clumsiness was what almost knocked over the next-to-priceless vase on the table. He looked around the car again and realized that any object in the room was probably worth more than all the money he had left at home. Again, he wondered what it must have been like for them to live with such lavishness, and for all those in the Districts to be confined as they were. It didn’t make sense to Cyrus, but then again, he had the tendency to overthink things. And his sense of moral integrity was something that often held him back where others were able to wave off such things as foolishness. They would say that was just how things were meant to be.

Before he could get in a word, he heard the call of lunchtime, and realized at last the two of them were to meet their escort and mentor. Cyrus tried to think just who their mentor could be, knowing that their district had not had a winner in quite some time. He followed closely behind Fawn, almost a little too closely, before finally reaching the expansive and lavish dinning car. His mouth watered at the buffet that was laid out before them. He knew his mouth was hanging open at all the things that were available to them—it was not like Cyrus never had a good meal, mind you—and immediately grabbed a plate so that he could better stuff his face.

He was like a child in a candy store. He piled his plate high with sweets, meats, and his all time favorite, mashed potatoes. He took a seat next to Trina, their escort, and placed his napkin into his collar before grabbing his fork and knife. Trina giggled at him as he did so, and as he shoveled some of the mashed potatoes into his mouth, he realized that she was still looking at him. Grabbing her napkin she wiggled it in front of his face and then made a motion to place it into his nap. Cyrus blinked a few times and pulled back from the table some. He felt his face flush as he moved to wipe his mouth and place the napkin in his lap. Right. He had to remember that he was going to be unfamiliar with all these capitolite customs.

Trina chattered on, asking plenty of inane questions and giggling at them. It seemed that every response Cyrus had made her laugh, and pretty soon he stopped responding to any of her questions. He didn’t like to be laughed at. It was the worst thing for Cyrus. He hated for people to think that he was simple or stupid, and every time she laughed it made him retreat further and further into his shell. At last, the smelly, jaundiced man sitting on the end of the table piped in and told her to shut up. Cyrus looked over at what he guessed was his mentor. Here was a man that liked the bottle more than anything else. Sizing him up, Cyrus wondered whether or not he would have anything useful to tell them. That was, of course, until he told them they weren’t going to last.

Good. So everyone thinks we’re going to die quickly.[/color]

And then he heard Fawn chirp in with ’Why don’t you keep your comments to yourself before I beat you with that bottle?’ And he dropped his fork. He knew that it was a bad idea to insult an adult, especially one that might be able to help them survive the games just a little while longer. She gave him a look as she exited, and Cyrus turned to face their mentor again. He laughed and took another swig of his drink before pointing at Cyrus. He continued to eat as the mentor spoke.

“ Y-y-you know w-what (hic) her problem is? She’s just another one of these s-scared little (hic) girls that’s got no chance. So sh-sh-she acts all pissy… bein’ scared of death will do that do yah!” He said as he let out a loud belch. Trina made a face but the mentor didn’t seem to notice. “You know… you don’t look so bad. Kinda strong, and you aren’t crying. Got a good appetite. You know where that’s going to get you?”

Cyrus shook his head.

“ Dead! Dead! Dead, dead, dead, deeeeeeeead!” The mentor stood from his seat waving his arms. “Year after y-year they send me tributes that haven’t the sl-sl-slightest idea of how to fight. And I’m s-supposed to convince p-p-people that you are worth their money? What did you even do in District (hic) six?” He puts his hands on his hips and Cyrus looked down at the table.

“I was a welder…” His voice trails off and Trina’s eyes seem to light up.

“Ooh, he worked with fire and with his hands, that gives me so many ideas for your costume! I just think you’d look splendid in—“ But her attempt to stop the conversation was derailed.

“Oh for f—k’s sake. You bent metal? I’ve got my work cut out for me…” He took another swig. “You’ll probably get stabbed in the back with one of the swords you helped to make, you know that, right?”

Cyrus was gripping the bracelet on his wrist like a madman, and he stood from the table. “I… I… I…” He stammered out his words, the anxiety rising in his chest. His mouth was working faster than his mouth, as usual. “I cut sheet metal! And you’re… you’re supposed to help us! You…[/b]” He stopped, looking to Trina, who was holding a napkin up to her face. “Forget it. I’m going away from here.[/b]” He could hear the snickering from his mentor as he left.

-----

He was shaking when he left the car. He thought he had left the hopelessness in District six, but it seemed to follow him like a cloud. He had his work cut out for him. Though he had wanted his precious freedom, it was obvious that this freedom came at the cost of his hope. Logic took over again as Cyrus placed his hands on a windowpane to look outside. There is no reason for anyone to believe us as winners. We have not had a winner in some time. We are not fighters. We are both sweet and quiet and afraid. They would not think us as winners. But… we can be winners. He grabbed his bracelet and nodded. He could think of her and have hope. She would tell him he was brave.[/color]

He moved down the hallway to see Fawn sitting down on the floor. Thinking that this was completely normal, as Cyrus had never been on a train before, he took a seat beside her. He played with his bracelet on his wrist and said nothing, only looking forward in front of him. At last he decided to speak.

“ You know, he was wrong to say that about us.” Cyrus said as he twisted the turquoise in his hands. “I think I can do this. I bet you can do this too. You are here. And I am here. And I want to do this. I want to survive, and I will do what it takes to survive. I want to be free from District six. And I want to be able to explore.”

He looked at Fawn again and put his hands down on the soft carpet. It really was a lovely place. “What do you want?” He asked this earnestly and simply, not knowing that it was a rather loaded question. “You don’t have to say just yet. But at least I can say… I don’t like that mentor either, and I was happy you said something. You seem pretty brave.[/color]”[/blockquote][/size]

[angel4030]

Action: 990000
Speech: CC6666
Thoughts: CC6600

Fawn Raiys
~ What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger ~
~ Stand a little taller ~
~Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone~.

As Fawn laid her head back against the wall, she let her eyes close. Drawing random patterns into the soft carpet beneath her, she let her mind wander. She could practically smell the sweet flowers that she would pick each spring and bring to her mother in a small bouquet. They were never very large or extravagant like the flowers she would occasionally see the mayor give his wife. No matter how small and measly her flowers were, however, she would proudly show them off on her way home before presenting them her mother. A small smile tugged at her cheeks at the memories of her mother smiling down at her with baby Wren in her lap. A wave of grief passed through her as she remembered what would happen only a few short years later. The day her mother died still hung fresh in her mind and Fawn quickly redirected her attention by opening her eyes and examining the hallway.

Every few feet there was a large window allowing one a glimpse of the world rushing past. A few small tables stood against the same side with different adornments varying from flowers Fawn believed to be too perfect to possibly be real to vases similar to the one Cyrus nearly shattered. Speaking of Cyrus, I wonder how things are going in the dinning cart, she mused, straining to hear their words. With a sigh, she gave up on deciphering their discussion although she knew they could very well be discussing strategies for the Games. An unladylike snort escaped Fawn at the thought of that man in there giving any sort of advice. Of course our escort isn’t much better, Fawn thought, recalling Trina’s high pitched laughter at nearly anything. She acts like this is some tea party we’re all going to, not an event where one of us, if not both of us, will die, Fawn thought, disbelief coating her thoughts.

The more she lingered on thoughts of her mentor and escort, the more her hatred of the Capitol burned. Since the death of her older brother in the Hunger Games, she had grown to despise anything and everything related to the Capitol. Her encounters with her mentor and escort, however brief they may have been, were enough to prove that her hatred was not without reason. They don’t even see us as people. We’re just toys of theirs that they can use for their sick forms of entertainment, she thought with disgust. Pulling her eyes away from the dark window, Fawn glared down at her own hands. Small, pale, and covered in scars cowardly hidden under a layer of makeup, they were useless. What could she possibly do against the giants that would certainly be arriving from the Career Districts.

No, I won’t be their little toy. I might not win, but I’m definitely not going to let them push me around, she thought with an edge of determination that continued to fade in and out of her. Suddenly, the sound of laughter pulled her attention back towards the dinning cart and she watched as the door slid open again with a sharp slam before shutting again behind Cyrus. Eyeing him, Fawn could tell he was upset and shaken from whatever had taken place in there after she had left. Curiosity prodded her mind, but she made no move to question him about it. She returned her gaze to her spread hands before moving them to her lap in case the make up she had applied was to rub off.

Fawn silently watched as Cyrus stared out the window, a bracelet around his wrist she assumed to be his token was clutched tightly in his other hand. The lights of yet another district began to appear in the distance and Fawn resisted the urge to have another panic attack. Since they had passed at least two districts already, there lay only three more before the Capitol would be upon them. No, I won’t crumble. Like I decided before, I refuse to let them get to me, she thought, forcing herself to keep a smooth expression as the lights of the unknown District, possibly District Four, flashed by. Fawn heard a noise next to her and she glanced over to find Cyrus slowly taking a seat beside her. They both sat in silence and Fawn even stretched her legs out in front of her, smoothing out the wrinkles as the boy next to her rolled his bracelet between his fingers over and over.

Keeping her neutral expression masking her features, Fawn took comfort in having someone she could sit next to and know they were feeling almost the exact same things she felt. She knew that this peacefulness between them could not last forever, but she clung to the small amount of time she had left before everyone around her would be focused on one thing: killing her for their own survival. The silence that had engulfed them was broken as Cyrus finally spoke up saying that their mentor had been wrong about them. As he continued, describing that he believed they could do it and all he wanted was to escape District Six and explore the world beyond its borders.

She stayed silent, but inside her mind, Fawn found herself understanding exactly what Cyrus meant. From what she had seen, he was just as socially awkward, if not more than she was and she understood why he would want to escape the claustrophobic District. Fawn had learned over the years to simply let comments made by her peers slide off of her, but she was not as invincible as she made herself out to be. Instinctively, her eyes flickered down to her wrists and she ran one finger over her right wrist, barely skimming the surface of the uneven skin.

The one thing that still haunted her mind, however, was how could he volunteer? Unlike her, Cyrus was not reaped and not forced to be in this situation, yet here he was. How could he speak out and volunteer, knowing that he was basically signing his own death sentence? she wondered incredulously. Many times Fawn had asked herself what was the point in continuing on. She would wonder if it would truly make a difference if one day she cut just a bit deeper and disappeared. The only thing that ever stopped her from doing such things had been the thoughts of her brothers and grandmother. They needed her and no matter how much she wanted to escape what she went through, they were her priority. The question burned at the tip of her tongue, but she held it back and allowed him to continue.

”What do you want?” he suddenly asked, catching Fawn off guard as she glanced up to meet his pleading face. She opened and closed her mouth, knowing in the back of her mind that she probably looked ridiculous, but she could not think of how to answer his heavy question. “You don’t have to say just yet. But at least I can say… I don’t like that mentor either, and I was happy you said something. You seem pretty brave.” he quickly amended and she nodded, appreciative that he did not push her for an answer. Storing his question away for another time, Fawn laughed dryly before shaking her head and staring ahead.

“I’m not that brave,” she finally spoke up, recalling her outburst in the dining cart. “I just have a short temper and am not really a people person, but I’m sure you can tell by now,” she said with a small smile. She paused and glanced back towards the door leading to the dinning compartment. “I hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you in there,” she found herself worrying aloud. She doubted their mentor would prove to be much help, but she still felt guilty that she may have shattered any hope of Cyrus receiving advice.

Replaying Cyrus’ words in her mind, Fawn let a small smile poke out. “I think you’re right about him being wrong. We certainly can’t be compared to the Careers, but we aren’t helpless. Do you think we’ll be able to sober him up enough to give us any help?” she mused and shook her head slightly. After seeing how tightly their mentor clutched that bottle, she doubted there was any hope of getting him sober. A flicker of something caught Fawn’s eye and she glanced up to see another district appearing in the otherwise black night. Her stomach clenched, but she quickly shook the feeling off and returned her gaze to Cyrus. No, he’s right. We have a chance. It's slim, but it's better than nothing. Neither one of us is helpless and if we really try, maybe we can at least survive the Bloodbath. she declared internally, clenching the small locket in her hand and willing it to give her strength to pull through.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

[/b]

Cyrus wondered if he’d been wrong to lash out at their mentor. He was the one that was supposed to help them train for the games. They only had a short time to prepare for what was imminent danger, and the two of them had decided to badmouth the one person that was supposed to have all the answers. And Trina, despite her annoying questions, provided the biggest positivity out of anyone Cyrus had ever met. He let out a sigh as he turned to listen to Fawn. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit better that she seemed so similar, and that she seemed to be taking her time to understand Cyrus. Whether or not it was because she was forced to made no difference. For now he was hoping they might actually be friends, as illogical as that was.

“You don’t have to take responsibility for me,

[/color]” Cyrus replied to her comment about giving him trouble in the dining car. He wondered for a moment how much longer they had on the train, and if he’d be able to get in another meal before they got to the capitol. If there was one thing anyone had to know, it was that Cyrus took responsibility for all that happened to him. He wasn’t about to be the victim, at least, not with his spirit as full as it was at the moment. “He just was asking me about who I was, and he was about as nice to me as he was to you. So I decided that if he wasn’t in the mood to help us right now, then it would be better to come here and talk to you.[/b]”

He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of his fellow tribute. She was angry, but then, who wouldn’t be? She had a quiet confidence, even if she had run away from their mentor. He watched her for a moment as she clutched her necklace and mentioned the fact that they weren’t hopeless. No, even if the odds were pretty small, it wasn’t as if they were dead yet. They had just as good of a chance as escaping the bloodbath as any of the non-career districts. And it wasn’t as though they’d yet encountered their competitors, so there was yet to be a threat of hatred or alliances to be formed.

“We just have to figure out a good strategy,[/color]” Cyrus said as he looked down at the carpet again. His hand brushed along in circles, around and around. He hadn’t been aware that he was using the plural first person, as if they were already a team. It just seemed to sprout from him naturally that they would talk about this sort of thing together. He was not, after all, a ruthless tribute that could see only his coronation as victor. Instead, he saw freedom and life after this. He had volunteered to become something else, to finally break out of the world that he was confined to. He never wanted to return to the way things had been and would always have been to him. “I suppose it would be better if I watched the Games more closely when I was at home, though…”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at whatever it was that Fawn was gripping so tightly. He lifted his own token up as it jangled, and then pressed his hand against it. Tatum. He thought of her and closed his eyes. Was she out running in some field somewhere? Did she have enough food to eat?[/color] He turned again to Fawn and pointed.

“Is that your token?[/color]” He said without knowing that perhaps this was a private matter. As good as Cyrus was, he lacked a finesse with personal boundaries. His curiosity often got the better of him, and he had no idea if this was one of those times. Instead he studied her again as he shifted a little bit closer to her on the carpet. As difficult as it was to talk to others, he seemed to be doing surprising well with Fawn. He lifted up his arm to show her, moving his wrist towards her face as a child would. “I’m wearing mine. What’s yours?[/color]”


[/blockquote][/size]

[angel4030]

Action: 990000
Speech: CC6666
Thoughts: CC6600

Fawn Raiys
~ What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger ~
~ Stand a little taller ~
~Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone~.

Fawn listened as Cyrus explained that their mentor had not been much help to him either. She internally groaned as she ran through the list of other Districts who had a recent victor as their mentor. Their mentors are probably actually helpful, she thought as Cyrus’ words crushed any hopes she had of receiving any help. I guess we’re on our own, she decided before tuning back into the boy’s words. As he mentioned strategy, she wondered what their strategy could be. She suddenly froze, catching herself as she used the word ‘we.’ The word implied that they had become an alliance and she was just starting to become comfortable around him.

Maybe together we could stand a chance… she trailed off. Glancing over at Cyrus, Fawn was not even sure if he would want to be an alliance with her, much less if she truly wanted an alliance. She mulled the idea over in her mind as she listened to Cyrus continue. “We just have to figure out a good strategy,” and Fawn looked up as he finished. Again was that word: we. Is he thinking about the same thing I am? Or was it simply a coincidental choice of words? she pondered before pushing the mind cluttering thoughts away. At the moment, she simply wanted to rest and prepare herself for the days that waited for them at the Capitol.

Fawn frowned slightly as she thought of all the events leading up to the Games. From being prepped and dressed for the opening ceremony to training and receiving her score, she realized that by the end of the ordeal there was no way she will not snap. Someone’s going to end up with a black eye by the time they drag me into the arena, she thought with a smirk. There was nothing she despised more than the Capitol and after loosing her temper from spending merely a few minutes with her mentor and escort, Fawn knew she would not be able to stay collected for the next few days. As a silence once again fell upon them, she found herself thinking about the other tributes. She knew those from Career Districts would most likely be very lethal, but what about the non Career Districts?

I guess we should watch the Reapings and see our completion, she decided reluctantly. Deep down, Fawn wanted to avoid seeing what she was up against for as long as possible, but if they were to stand a chance, they needed to know what they were up against. “I suppose it would be better if I watched the Games more closely when I was at home, though…” Cyrus trailed off and she wondered if that was a reason why he volunteered. Maybe he doesn’t realize how truly unforgiving and terrible the Games are? she began, but quickly dismissed the thought. No, there is no way someone can not know how gruesome the Games are, no matter how little attention they devote to watching it. Watching the Games was mandatory, but Fawn would often take her youngest brother out of the room when an especially terrifying event would appear on screen. She did not care what punishments she may face for walking away from the screen, Fawn still stood by her decision that a toddler did not need to be plagued by nightmares of the Games. She sent Cyrus a quick, reassuring smile,

“I’m sure it won’t make too much of a difference. The more important thing now is that we watch the Reaping and see what we're up against,” she spoke up, trying her best to be more positive. When he brought up her token, Fawn realized she was still grasping the small locket for dear life. Releasing the golden object, she gave him a quick nod before a smile broke out on her face as he continued, showing her his own token and asking about hers. The way he held his token up for her to inspect reminded her so much of what her little brother Flint would do that she felt her eyes burn, threatening to tear up. Pushing her emotions back, she turned slightly so that he could see her locket better.

“It’s a locket my grandmother gave me before I left,” she explained, love coating each word as she thought of her family. She then fumbled slightly with the small clasp that kept it around her neck. Finally taking it off, she then pushed the small button like piece on the side and managed to carefully open it up. Holding it out slightly, nestled safely in the palm of her hand, Fawn pointed carefully to the first picture. “Those are my five little brothers. The oldest is Wren and the youngest is Connor,” she said before gently touching the other picture. And that’s my mother, she finally finished softly. The one thing that could always being a smile to Fawn’s face was her family. At the moment, however, these thoughts only revived the chaotic emotions that had nearly suffocated her earlier and she quickly diverted her attention.

Glancing over at Cyrus’ she pulled a smile onto her face and looked at his token. ”What about your token?” she questioned as she carefully closed the locket and began putting it back on, careful not to tangle the chain.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

Cyrus listened to Fawn and nodded his head along with her. They would have to study their competition to see exactly what they were up against. There would be the natural born killers from the career districts, and Cyrus had no doubt that some of the non-careers would be capable of similar feats. He was still unsure of just how he was going to be able to finish someone off—Cyrus very rarely had ever hurt someone by choice. He knew it was a fact of life that he would have to get over—these were the Games—though he wondered about his ability to forgive himself for killing an innocent human being. It was the hardest part for him, as he supposed it was for anyone, to realize that there would have to be blood on his own hands for him to gain his own freedom.

He remembered watching the games some years ago. He remembered sitting in the room with the screen, the others silent or giving little gasps at the events before them. There was much more excitement around it for others, while Cyrus viewed it more as a curiosity. To him, being an outsider had some naturally. And from what he had been taught, outsiders needed to be destroyed or punished. They didn’t fit into the capitol or in the districts. They all needed to strive for the same things, look the same, and be the same. In the Hunger Games, boys and girls that deviated from the pack were picked off. And so it was with the usual District Sixers—the only one to ever have gotten far was Aesop, but alas, no victory. Cyrus almost wept at this—he’d been proud of his district, a foolish pride to be sure, and called himself stupid after that. He still was reconciling just what the games would mean to him.

As Fawn showed him her locket, he stared at the faces of her family with wonder. “They are very handsome young boys,” Cyrus said in response. He never really knew what to say about people and how they looked. At the very least it gave him something to talk about with Fawn. He managed a smile as he thought about his own brother. “How old are all of them? You know, I have a younger brother named Naif? He’s the best. He’s only fourteen but I feel like he’s so much more mature than that. I promised that when this is over…”

Again, Cyrus felt himself fall into the trap of thinking about after the games. He let himself trail off. After the games.

[/color] Perhaps he was more naïve than he had let on previously. Cyrus just couldn’t shake this want to talk past the games, as if by picturing himself after them would protect him from the extreme anxiety he felt about the games. If he let the anxiety take over him, as it happened from time to time, he would wind up cowering in a corner or running off somewhere. He shook his head and looked down at his own token. He fiddled with the thing as he got it off of his wrist, and held it up for Fawn to see.

“This…” He starts slowly as he twirls the turquoise stone piece in his fingers. He stares at the stone for a moment and blinks. What was there to say? This was his lifeline, his hope, his love, his silliness all bunched up into a piece of twine and some semi-precious stones. He held it closer so that Fawn could see. What could he tell her to make her understand, or anyone for that matter, the girl that had helped to change his life? He supposed he didn’t have to keep it as much of a secret now that the two of them were headed off toward the games. He stared up at Fawn and cleared his throat.

“This is my bracelet. I like to think about it as my inspiration. I… I’ve never been so good at being with people… or having to understand just what people want out of me… I like to make sure I’ve pleased everyone, but I have a tendency to mess up,[/b]” Cyrus started shakily as he continued to play with the bracelet. He clutched it tightly in his hand and looked back to Fawn. “I met someone—her name was Tatum—she was a wonderful girl. She gave this to me after we’d—well she was my teacher. She’s the one that made me realize that if I stayed in district six… well, there was nothing for me there. She gave this to me as a sort of reminder… that I needed to get out and see things for what they were… not just do the same thing over and over.[/b]”

He let out another sigh and brought his knees up to his chest. “I guess it sounds really dumb when I say it like that.” Cyrus stared down at the carpet and chewed his lips. Was it ignoble that he’d done this for his freedom? Or just plain stupid? He clutched his bracelet again to give him strength. He still thought otherwise.[/blockquote][/size]

[angel4030]

Action: 990000
Speech: CC6666
Thoughts: CC6600

Fawn Raiys
~ What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger ~
~ Stand a little taller ~
~Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone~.

As Fawn successfully snapped the clasp into place, she turned her attention to Cyrus as he brought up her brothers. She listened as he described his brother, but when he trailed off, she could see the pain in his eyes. She struggled to find a way to make him feel better, but her mind pulled a blank. He has a brother too. He made a promise to his brother just like I made a promise to my brothers, she realized and she knew one of them, if not both of them, would not be able to see their brothers again. Taking a shaky breath, Fawn preferred to stay in her own bubble where she did not have to worry about the future. Although she would have to face reality when the train came to a stop, she wanted to enjoy her moment of blissful optimism a bit longer.

“He sounds like a really good brother,” she finally managed, before answering his question. ”Wren is thirteen, Harper and Brody, they’re twins, are eleven, Flint is eight, and Connor just turned seven,” she listed each by name, thinking of their smiling faces and very different personalities.

“Wren tries to be the man of the house and acts older than he is, except when he argues with the others. If Harper and Brody get on his nerves, he can act just as crazy as they do. The twins are the troublemakers of the house. If they aren’t in your sight, then you should definitely be worried, she described, rolling her eyes as memories of all their different pranks scrolled through her mind. Before, their pranks and mischief had driven her crazy, but at the moment she would had given anything to be the victim of their practical jokes rather than the victim of the Games. “Flint is the sweetheart. He always seems to know when you’re upset and makes it his personal duty to cheer you up even though he’s only eight. Finally, Connor is the baby of the family. He likes to follow you around and copy others. He’s shy, but very observant, she concluded, turning her token over once in her hands before dropping them to her lap. It’s not like holding it will bring them here, or turn back time, she reminded herself with a frown.

When Cyrus began to struggle with his token, she waited quietly and simply looked it over. She could tell it meant a lot to him, but she did not expect him to open up to her about it like he did. She was not quite sure how to respond when he began explaining every emotion and meaning behind the small token. By the time he finished, Fawn felt she finally had an insight into who he was. In a way she was even more puzzled by him, but she also could relate to not being able to connect with others well. Of course he actually tries, I just push them away. When he mentioned Tatum, a flash of envy flitted through Fawn and she wished she had someone like that. Of course she had her family, but her cold exterior had driven off any friends she had. A sigh pulled her from her thoughts and she noticed Cyrus pull his knees up, “I guess it sounds really dumb when I say it like that.”

She immediately shook her head and answered honestly, “No, it doesn’t. It sounds like you have a real motivation for what you’re doing. Most of the Careers only volunteer for the glory, but you actually want something more that has a meaning and doesn’t involve becoming a monster.” A flush of embarrassment crept onto Fawn’s face and she cleared her throat awkwardly. He was bringing out a side of her that she was not used to showing around anyone other than her family and it made her unsure how to react. Glancing out the windows, she was sure it was fairly late, but she had no urge to sleep yet. I doubt I’ll be getting very much sleep form now on she stated dryly.

Pulling herself up from the hallways floor, she turned to the door leading to the dinning compartment and momentarily wondered what had happened to their escort and mentor. He’s probably passed out somewhere while Trina is off getting ready for our ‘grand arrival’ to the Capitol she decided with a quick eye roll. She had nothing personal against their bubbly escort, but there was only so much of that high-pitched giggle and chirp that she could take. Glancing down at Cyrus, she nodded towards the dinning compartment. “I guess we should see if either one of them can show us where we can watch the Reapings, she suggested. Something told her that they would not have much longer on the train. Breakfast, possibly, but then they would be at the Capitol and have to face their competition face to face.

[cyrus]

Cyrus Malloc

[/b]

As Cyrus listened to Fawn talk about her brothers, he couldn’t help but imagine Naif. What would he be doing just then? Was he sitting at home with his mother, or was he out with his friends getting into harmless fun? He was always good about making sure he wasn’t getting himself into too much trouble. He could be proud of his younger brother, especially when he took the time never to distance himself too much from Cyrus. Even in his awkwardness, Naif still looked up to his older brother. He never let anyone taunt him, or question his strange interactions. Instead, they would laugh and joke as they always did—whether it was when they played toy soldiers together, still, or just sat on the porch on a summer’s night doing nothing.

“You sound so good to your brothers… I bet they’ll be happy to see you again,

[/color]” Cyrus said. He didn’t want to be so optimistic, but he could tell that Fawn had a lot more to her than she let on. It comforted him that at the very least, he had been with someone that seemed a little similar to him. She was patient and kind, and she was strong, whether she realized it or not. He felt himself choke up some as he thought of his brother watching him in the games. Would he make him happy? Would he be able to stand and say that there was Cyrus Malloc, his brother[/i]? How he feared such disappointment. No, he was going to be able to come home and through it all, they would be proud of him.

“Yeah… it’d be good if we could do that,” Cyrus said as he stood to his feet. He thought that the two of them might make a pretty strong team, if they could get far enough. After all, they seemed to have different strengths and weakenesses. She was a little bit pushier, rougher, but braver than Cyrus. He had a calm temperament and a logical way of thinking. And the both of them were sweet—they weren’t ruthless killers—perhaps they could balance one another out, and make it pretty far. He tried not to think of what would happen if either of them had to face one another, but now was not the time to think of such things.

“And thanks,” He said quietly as he brushed off his pants. She had calmed his anxiety some (granted, it was still buried in there), and let him think about things a little bit more clearly. He just wondered when they would reach the capitol, and what it would mean for the both of them. They would have to get suited up, trained, and everything would happen in a blur. He just hoped to hold on long enough that all this was for naught. He didn’t want to fail. He just wanted to be free.

“Thanks, Fawn… you’re going to be great… we’re going to be great…” Cyrus said this last little bit quietly as she turned back toward the dining car. They could go the distance… couldn’t they?[/size][/blockquote]