The Intake (Ems)

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After training for most of the morning in the Training Center, I take a break to eat something for lunch. That, and I finally gave into my stomach since I forgot to eat breakfast this morning. I really wish I could have trained longer, though. Food isn't the first thing on my mind when it comes to the games, unless it's how to get it. I really need to get better if I need to survive, especially against the careers. Speaking of careers, why do they get special training? How is that far to anyone? That's really messed up.

The smell of food gradually gets stronger as I draw nearer to the dining hall. As I enter, food is all over the place. Not literally, but there's a lot more food than I usually see.Holy crap. Everything looks so beautiful. I thought I lived a decent life back in my District. Hell, I even thought the train ride here was amazing. But this, this is heaven. I don't even know where to begin.

I finally make a decision to start at the closest place to start, which was the salad bar. From there, I piled as much food as I could on my plate. I got everything from turkey to salad to apples to cookies. I never knew so much food could be stored in one place. If it weren't for having to go into an arena to die, I would love to be a tribute every games. After confirming that I have absolutely no more room on my plate to get anymore food, I head on over to the tables to sit down.

As I look, most of the tables aren't full, but they're not empty either. There's at least 2 or 3 tributes sitting at the majority of the tables, most of them looking like they're talking to each other. Dang, people socialize fast. How can people make friends this fast? They don't even know them that well. Why trust them anyway when all but one of us is going to die in a couple of days?

After not too long of searching, I find an almost empty table, except for another tribute. I vaguely remember him, but I can't remember which district he's from. I've never been good with faces, so I'm not really bothered by not remembering him. I also haven't met any other tribute yet, except for my district partner, so there's that as well. Out of instinct, I ask "Hey, is it okay if I sit here?" I highly doubt he'll mind. I guess its better to be safe than sorry. Maybe he wants to be alone. Whatever, I really just want to eat, regardless if he wants to be alone. I'm really sorry if you say, no, dude.

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Rolf Parks Eighteen | Male | District Nine

Training is boring yet necessary. It's important to learn to survive. To keep myself alive because I will survive the games. I made a promise I would do the best I can, and I'm not one to break promises. As sad as it is, it may have been a hollow promise to keep my family happy. To let Citadel know I'm going to try, and it terrifies me what'll happen to her if I die in the games. But training is old, and I want to eat the food that's waiting in the dining hall. It's calling for me, and I'm happy to oblige.

Once I'm in the dining hall, I'm piling food from district ten on my plate. It all sounds so lovely yet disgusting at the same time. But I've always been told to not hate on something until I try it. I stop in front of a placard reading sweat potato pie.

Sweat potato pie. What is that?

With a shrug of my shoulders, I'm putting it on my plate along with lamb. I'm sure it tastes amazing.

Once my plate is full, I take a seat at a table with nobody around. It's how I roll. It's my goal. Everything is important right now. Learning who I'm up against. But most importantly, I need to get my weight up so I can go longer without eating. Though, it could make it worse.

Relaxing, and enjoying my food some male walks over towards me holding a plate in his own hand.

"Hey, is it okay if I sit here?"

Looking around, I try to spot another open table, but I doubt there's many seats left. It's late, and most are taken. Saying no would could become a perfect chance to make an enemy, but I feel I could talk to someone. Get to know them. Figure them out, and why not talk to this boy here.

"Sure. Go right ahead." I state calmly with a nod of my head before taking a bite of the sweat potato pie. "And youare?" I ask with my mouth filled with food hoping he'll understand.

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He looks around first before answering, which makes me a little nervous that he's gonna say no. My nerves lower as he looks back and me and tells me he doesn't mind. Sweet Ripred, thank you. I take a seat, brining some turkey into my mouth. This is the best, Ripreddamn turkey I have ever eaten. It's melting in my mouth. I wish I could bring it back for thanksgiving. Or just for whatever occasion. My family would love this.

I get the second forkful of a more assorted group of food when the fellow tribute asks me something. What he says sounds muffled. I look at him slightly confused before realizing what he said. Crap. What'd he say?I wasn't really pa-- he asked for my name. Just my name. I finished my bite, then answer. "My name's Samuels. Jackson Samuels. District 6. I don't mind what you call me, though."

Thank you for being somewhat talkative, not that I was looking for someone to talk to. This'll make dinner slightly better. I really hope that we don't end up as enemies. I don't need any of those. Just need to avoid everyone for as long as I can. Did I ask for his name yet? I should do that. "What's your name?" There. I did. Now what should I eat now? I have no idea what I just ate, and I don't want to do that again. Maybe I should try this cookie. But which one? I worry about which one to chose, but finally chose the sugar cookie. This better be as good as the ones on the trains. I bring it up and hope for the best.

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Rolf Parks Eighteen | Male | District Nine

Something is different about this guy compared to the other tributes I've met so far. He's quiet. Kind of shy. But it makes no difference because in the end everyone here is the enemy. Yet part of me wants to know more. It's my goal to learn the name of every tribute so when their face lights up in the anthem, I can say goodbye to them forever. If all goes according to plan, I'll be the last one standing receiving the crown of honor and glory. Chaske fought for it, and I'll do the same, but unlike him, the worthlessness won't hold me back since I am the good child.

The guy sits down and starts eating. He's ignored my question, and I want to call him out on it, but soon he's looking at me. His bite is finished, and he's talking to me. "May name's Samuels. Jackson Samuels. District 6. I don't mind what you call me, though."

Jackson Samuels of district six. Lucky for him he isn't one I've sworn to kill. But is killing all it's made out to be? Katelyn seems to struggle from it. Maybe it's the fame that comes with the price of twenty-three dying. Maybe it's because she's some damsel in distress.

A soft smile slowly spreads from ear to ear as I take another bite of the sweat potato pie. Ohmyohmyohmy. This is one of the best foods I've ever tasted in my entire life, and I'm feeling bad because my family is at home starving while I devour this food like it's nothing because I'm blessed with many refills.

"What's your name?"

It's amazing that everyone doesn't know me yet. I've ran into someone. I've fought with a victor. I'm definitely making a name for myself, but apparently the news doesn't pass quickly here. Swallowing the bite of food, I wipe my face with a napkin.

"Rolf Parks from district nine."

Why I'm having a conversation with this man is unknown to me, but it's something to pass time before I'm back in the gym training. I quickly shovel another piece of the sweat potato pie into my mouth.

"Areyou enjoyingthe Capitol?" It's rude to talk with my mouth full, but I have to know, and time is of the essence.

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He seems a little offended when I ask him what his name was, like I'm supposed to know who he is. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Why do some people do that? He's probably not even offended. I might be overthinking this. Just try some more food until he answers. That cookie looks really good. Maybe I should try that. I wonder if they're as good as the ones on the train. I pick up and eat the sugar cookie as he wipes off any food found on his face with his napkin. He then proceeds to answer my question. "Rolf Parks from district nine. " Now that's a lower middle district. Didn't they have a winner a few years back? O'Leary? O'Larry? Something like that. I really hope district 6 gets one soon. That would be nice.

"It's nice to meet you, Rolf." I give him a warm smile. I really hope he does well in the games. I really hope I won't have to face him in the finally. I really hope I don't have to face anyone ever, but that most likely requires me to die. I don't want to die. I guess it's either kill or be killed. I'm going to have to kill to win. The dark realization finally settles in. I never thought of killing anyone before. I thought about seriously harming some, but not kill. Am I able to kill? Do I have that capability to do so?

Rolf says something again, but in a more muffled tone again. Did he just ask me something? It would be really helpful if he could speak more clearly. I should probably focus more, as well. I think he said something about the Capitol. What about it? Crap. "Uh, yeah. It's pretty cool here. It's much nicer here. My dad works for the Capitol. I don't know where or what, but he works for some Capiolites. It's definitely better here than District 6, especially the food.. How do you like it so far?" I really hope that answers his question..

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Rolf Parks Eighteen | Male | District Nine

What is it about this guy has drawn my attention?

Something is off. One part of me wants to trust him while the other part is putting him on a list of people to stay away from. He doesn't seem very talkative, but I understand because the games are just around the corner. Soon death will call for us, and it won't stop until only one remains. Scratching my head, I try to remember his name - I know he said it earlier. Perhaps it's best if I just let it go away.

"It's nice to meet you, Rolf."

Yeah. It would be nice if it wasn't for the fact that we're both here in the Capitol preparing to die. I give a quick nod of my head before returning the soft grin.

Was it Sam?

Pushing the thoughts away, I get ready to take another bite of food, yet his words completely catch me off guard.

"Uh, yeah. It's pretty cool here. It's much nicer here. My dad works for the Capitol. I don't know where or what, but he works for some Capiolites. It's definitely better here than District 6, especially the food.. How do you like it so far?"

My jaw clenches tightly.

His father works for the Capitol. He's part of the reason why we're all being sentenced to death, yet it goes to show that even those with the biggest ties to the Capitol aren't safe from the cruel nature of the games. My gaze narrows as I try to push the thought away of his father standing in the games watching and cheering as we die.

No, it has to be something different.

It takes all my strength to keep calm and allow him to eat his meal in front of me.

"It's alright. I mean it's not home or anything. Nothing special. Food is okay. Seeing what different districts has amazes me." I try to lie because this place is amazing, and I feel like I'll betray everything I know if I own up to it to a person. "There's no place like home, though." And that's the truth. As much as I hate it, I've learned to love it because now it may be taken away from me forever.

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He clenches his jaw as soon as I finished talking, as though I said something wrong. I try not to worry that much, but the worry doesn't seem to listen. What'd I say? Is he mad? His eyes narrow, which makes me worried even more. Shit, I said something wrong. What was it? Please don't hate me. Should I make it up? I don't know what to make up, though. How can I make up something if I don't what to fix? I really hope I didn't just make an enemy.

Now, my appetite has vanished. What I thought was a wonderful delight turned into something unneeded crap that I don't want, all thanks to my doubt. How come this is bothering me this much? I don’t remember ever feeling this way towards anything this way before. Why am I feeling it now? Whatever. I should still try to eat, even if my emotions don't want me to. I forgot to eat breakfast, so I really should eat now.

I force myself to pick up my fork again and begin slowly eating. "It's alright. I mean it's not home or anything. Nothing special. Food is okay. Seeing what different districts has amazes me," he says. I'm not sure why he's continuing the conversation, but he does anyways. Why wouldn't he continue it, though? There isn't a good answer for not, so I guess it makes sense. He's also being kind. I really should watch out for him in the arena just in case. "There's no place like home, though." Again, with home. I don't know why, but whenever I hear anything related to back home, I feel as though Cupid's sadder cousin shot me with one of his arrows. It always makes me sad, like I know I most likely won't make it through the games. I have to make it through these games, for my family, and for him. I have to.


"That's true. Home will always be special." Especially when you know you might never see it again. My urge to win drastically I again force myself to take another bite of food. Good dammit, please just eat. Maybe I should say something, to try to change the mood of this. I can't eat knowing he's annoyed at me. "So how do you like the other tributes so far?" Is that a good question? I guess I should get some sort of info, since I barely know any of them. Might as well get something from another person, even if it's highly biased.

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

Rolf Parks Eighteen | Male | District Nine

What I would do to wake up in my own bed to the smell of my aunt's cooking.

I can't push the thoughts away, and talking about home is only making it worse. The Capitol is where I reside for now although my residence may be permanent if my life ends inside the arena. It's a sickening thought. Dying in the games. But the idea of killing someone is hard to stomach too. But I want to go home. I have to return home alive, or everything is ruined. I made a promise, and breaking it isn't polite. Perhaps I shouldn't have made a promise I'm not guaranteed to keep.

Lifting another bite from my plate, I'm devouring the food I've gathered inside.

"That's true. Home will always be special."

It's beyond me why I'm talking to him about home. Maybe to find out if he misses it just as much as I do? To see if he has the will left inside of him to fight? I don't know, but it's making me frustrated. I never had much of a home growing up, and now it's being taken away from me. What have I done wrong?

I am the good child.

Bad things shouldn't happen to me.

But they have.

"So how do you like the other tributes so far?"

My hand stops before it can reach my mouth, and my eyes open wide. A lump forms in the back of my throat, and every breath catches beneath it. All my hair stands on end. That's a tough one. Do I lie and tell him that I'm not afraid and I feel I can win it all? No, that'll be threatening him. Do I tell him that I'm terrified? No, that'll make me weak. Do I tell him that this is an interesting bunch? Maybe?

What can I tell him?

Scratching my head, I drop the bite back on my plate - "I haven't really had the chance to communicate with a lot of them." I offer with a slight shrug. "Some just look more terrifying than other's."

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His face shows slight remorse for a quick moment before disappearing. He misses his family. So I'm not the only one who has those feelings. I guess it's normal to have them, since 23 of us won't ever see them again. I resist the urge to show the emotion of sorrow that has come again inside of me. Why does that come up? I don't want to think about that. It'll only bring me down, just like everything else that's related to the Hunger Games. Just go away, please.

His next reaction is much easier to read. At first, I think that he's mad at me, but he doesn't appear to have any of the typical signs of anger. Maybe I took him off guard? That seems right. He looks a little surprised, with little being an understatement. I really need to stop talking and let him ask the questions. I seem to be making him uncomfortable.

He scratches his head and puts his food down, I'd assume to focus on his answer. "I haven't really had the chance to communicate with a lot of them." as he gives me a shrug. "Some just look more terrifying than other's." I nod in understanding. That's a fair response. I should have expected something like that. It hasn't been that long here at the Capitol, so if I haven't had the chance to get to know the others, I'm sure the others haven't either.

I force feed myself some more food, nearly asking multiple questions so we won't have to sit in anymore silence, but deciding not to to not get my third strike. Didn't I also sit here to be alone? Great. I have reasons not to speak anymore. But it would be rude to remain silent. I don't know how long either of us'll be here. I probably should train more, but I have so much food. Goddammit, I don't remember forced interactions being so awkward, even though I guess this isn't a forced reaction since I came up to him myself. I guess that's why it's been awkward. Forced interactions are just as awkward. I truly have no idea what I'm thinking anymore. Just focus on the food. It'll end it faster the quicker you eat.