thick skin ||d3 train blitz||

[mat]

"FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE, A VISION OF THE FUTURE'S

GETTING HEARD BETWEEN THE BLACK AND WHITE."

In five years, he never felt the urge to approach someone and talk to them about the Swamp. He let it brew within his head, hoping that one day he would just stop caring. Atticus was too afraid to approach people to talk about it, too afraid to sit down with someone, even the other victors. He felt too embarrassed, especially now, five years later, to admit that he hasn’t forgotten a single moment that happened over the course of that month.

Atticus remembered when Danny Brooker and he walked into the train without any guidance from Klaus, and in fact, he was never even present. He felt as if there was no person to ask questions to, no shoulder to lean on afterwards.

If he couldn’t move on he might as well just hope that he can get his next pair of tributes to.

Alice Sullivan and Bruce Clayton were their names. To him from first impressions, they seemed like polar opposites. Bruce Clayton, brother to a girl he mentored two years ago, Ave, was upon the stage with tears welling in his eyes. Alice Sullivan? She wasn’t sad. She was angry, feisty, rebellious. Night and day they were, sad and mad.

He sat in same spot he did last year, and the before, and all the other years going back to the 72nd when he and Danny sat in silence. He was too afraid for the small talk.

(Maybe that was his issue, confrontation. After all, he did mask himself with the face of Glamour Kinkade for the first day of his games.)

He let his fingers walk back and forth on the table. Atticus expected to either be intimidated by Alice or feel obligated to comfort Bruce.

Who knows, though, maybe they’ll surprise him.

ᙖᖇIᗩᖇ ᙖᒪᙓᔕᔕ YOᙀ <3

[shrimp]

She glowers in her chair, shoes kicked off the moment she stepped on the plush rug. Her posture is as slouched as you can get, her knees leaning against the table edge.

It's comforting, somewhat. The train, she means. It's a luxury she's spent too much time away from, sitting in the back of her mind with siblings and politics and a father whose heart still beat. Not that he liked her, anyway. Not like any of them liked her. Except for Ava, Ava tolerated her. But Ava wasn't here; instead, she faced Atticus Manor, 72nd Victor (she doesn't remember much from that year, just swamplands and bog gas amid the smoke and dance music, the fog of bitter liquids and bad decisions) and Bruce Clayton, her compatriot in arms. If he cries again she swears to god-

Alice, focus. Not the point. She sighs, twirling a strand of hair with her left index finger. Her right hand holds a glass filled with what she assumes to be wine. It was out when she got there, so she wouldn't know.

She sniffs it. Definitely not wine. She drinks it anyway. As the train rumbles, silence remains. She waits for the mentorship to start. And waits. And waits. Eventually she gets tired of watching Atticus' fingers walk down the runway.

"Y'know," she starts, turning towards her mentor. "Seeing as how you've like, survived this, and are supposed to train us to survive for at least ten seconds, I'd expect you to start the conversation." She huffs, left finger twirling until her hair's too taught and she winces. Maybe she was too much. Maybe. She was probably too much. He could just tell her to go fuck herself and not help at all. Which to be honest, is a valid response. But... like... whatever. She starts again.

"Look - I just mean - I didn't pay attention to the games when you won. I had other shit going on. And Brucie boy over here looks like a fetus so who knows what he was doing.

"So how'd you do it? How'd you get out?"

[♛ scandal]

The train was even more glamorous than the Justice Building room. Decorated with diamond chandeliers, soft couches, and dark wood tables. He sat quietly at the table upon entry of the train. He sniffles from his crying earlier. His eyes are red and puffy from his goodbye with Onyx. His longs to see his sister again. He knows that he will most likely perish in the arena along with 22 other souls, but he will always hope for the best, even as far-fetched as it is.

He finds himself across from Alice, and near his mentor. Atticus Manor, victor of the 72nd hunger games. He was 9 at the time, he barely even remembers the details. His parents had never allowed me to watch the games until they judged that he was mature enough to watch them. Of course, he found myself seeing a couple clips of the games here and there. 

"Y' know, seeing as how you've like, survived this, and are supposed to train us to at least survive ten seconds, I'd expect you to start the conversation."

That's one of the first things he hears his district partner say. He looks toward his mentor, surprisingly agreeing with the angry girl. 

"Look - I just mean - I didn't pay attention to the games when you won. I had other shit going on. And Brucie boy over here looks like a fetus so who knows what he was doing."

He looks toward his district partner, frowning at her choice of words. It's not his fault she was probably towering over other people when he was 9. But at least she didn't say anything about him crying, which relieved him a lot.  

"So how'd you do it? How'd you get out?"

He feels like that was a stupid question to ask. He could answer how he did that. He fought and killed people, and then the capitol people came and picked him up, and boom, he's a victor. He would say something to Alice, but he is afraid of what she might do if he does say something.

Unusual for him, but

He stays silent.

[mat]

"FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE, A VISION OF THE FUTURE'S

GETTING HEARD BETWEEN THE BLACK AND WHITE."

It was until Alice Sullivan started to speak that a startled looked up. How long had she and Bruce been standing there, watching him awkwardly do what some would describe as ‘fingerobics?’

”Seeing as how you've like, survived this, and are supposed to train us to survive for at least ten seconds, I'd expect you to start the conversation,” Atticus was going to mention that survival, in this scenario at least, was a rare sight to see after you spend a week and a few days in a hellstorm, but he held his tongue tight. Whether it be the same scenario for others, Atticus knew for himself that he simply existed; the days he spent outside of the house were once in a blue moon, and most days that were a blue moon, he was practically forced to come out.

”Look - I just mean - I didn't pay attention to the games when you won. I had other shit going on. And Brucie boy over here looks like a fetus so who knows what he was doing,” he looked over at Bruce, he blond haired-blue eyed, small figure. It reminded him of Iain and Cecelia, and Deja and Wylla, too young for this mess. Yet here he stood: looking to him for answers.

”So how’d you do it? How’d you get out?”

By killing a warrior, a best friend, a sick District Partner, and a man who deserved much more than second place. Having a flame ignite after Quadrys’s death.

But other than that, he didn’t quite know. What did he do differently from Ezero and Celia and Nell and Hettie, all of them? What justified his survival and in turn killed all of them?

”Just sorta..” he paused, hoping words would come to him easier than usual. He wanted to help, he did. He just didn’t know the right words. ”I just told myself that whatever happened... “

”that it wasn’t my fault that this was happening. It’s not your fault either. You’re not in trouble after this. So do what you have to do.”

ѕтιℓℓ вℓєѕѕιиg вяιαя твн

[shrimp]

He's surprised? How the ever loving fuck is Atticus Manor surprised? Alice hardly raises an eyebrow while listening to the man speak. It's like he's just noticed the two for the first time and is scrambling to recover. Which, to be fair, maybe he is doing that. But Alice doesn't bother to wonder what he's gone through, that this is the fifth set of children he'll probably see die in the games, that he's seen Bruce's sister volunteer and face her doom days into the 75th.

All she knows is that there's always been a gameplan and a gamemaster. When her siblings were vying for sole ownership of their father's company, there was always a battle to be planned. Pawns to be moved, bishops to reclaim their spaces and a queen to conquer what was rightfully hers. Yet amid all of that, as much as she's fought and tumbled to get her family back to where they once were, she was never the one with the pencil and pen. So excuse her for not being totally thrilled at the only piece of advice she seems to be getting. Don't feel bad about murder!!! It's government approved!!!! Like, duh. She toootally didn't know that already.

"So it's not our fault that we're being hauled off to Death camp, annnd when we kill someone don't freak the fuck out over it. Noted." Her voice is as arid as the desert. She switches positions, setting the glass down and detangling her finger from her hair (it's more complicated than she expects, and she utters a soft "ow" when it's finally removed). She crosses her legs.

"How do we get allies?" she asks. "Do we use our award-winning personalities and just show up all like 'Heyyyy lookin for someone to hold my hand when I die' or do we show some badass moves in front of them or what? They never cover that on tv." She shrugs, making some sort of grimace. "And what about the Bloodbath? Is it worth it to go in? I wouldn't wanna be like that guy who everyone thought was gonna win and then bit it like 2 seconds in." Also, I'm talking too much.

"Do you have anything to ask, Brucie? 'Cause I can keep going."

[♛ scandal]

"So it's not our fault were being hauled off to death camp, and when we kill someone don't freak the fuck out over it. Noted."

Bruce is speechless by the time Alice is finished talking. Surprised to hear cussing, as he doesn't hear the words of naughtiness that often, but he finds points in Alice's words that he too have thought at some point.

The first thing he thought of whenheI got on the train, Alice just now is asking,

"How do we get allies? Do we use our award-winning personalities and just show up all like 'Hey lookin for someone to hold my hand when I die' or do we show some badass moves in front of them or what? They never cover that on TV.""And what about the Bloodbath? Is it worth it to go in? I wouldn't wanna be like that guy who everyone thought was gonna win and then bit it like 2 seconds in."

He think's he'll just be himself to get allies. He doesn't want to align with someone who might just kill him in his sleep. He wants his alliance to be genuine, to at least have some comfort in the form of friends before me meets his end. The bloodbath part is something that he wants to figure out in the moment. He doesn't know what the arena he is going to go in. He doesn't know where the plate he is going to stand on is going to be.

"Do you have anything to ask, Brucie? 'Cause I can keep on going."

He has a question he thinks might upset Atticus. He really wants to know the feeling before he goes into that arena. He knows it is almost impossible for it to happen, but so was a 14-year-old being reaped out of hundreds of thousands of other names.

"What does it feel like to kill someone?"

[mat]

"FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE, A VISION OF THE FUTURE'S

GETTING HEARD BETWEEN THE BLACK AND WHITE."

Alice Sullivan’s responses to Atticus’s answers were not the most encouraging. He wanted to help her and Bruce- he really did, but with every half-assed remark she made, it pulled him further back from really wanting to help.

”How do we get allies?” she asked, and Atticus didn’t know the answer. Astrid and Nell and Sol just brought him along, like the kid who would just follow the popular ones around in hopes that he would turn into them. Her continuation of the question almost made him chuckle, her mixture of sarcastic humor and sarcastic responses gave Atticus both hopeful and saddening thoughts.

”And what about the bloodbath? Is it worth it to go in?” she continued, and Atticus knew the answer to that one. Yes, he thought. Sure, he ran away from the bloodbath, but when his allies let him come back in with them after they won the tree’s bounty, the advantages were life-saving. The medical supplies, the bug spray, without it, it was very possible he wouldn’t sit where he sat in the train.

She encourages Bruce to add in a question, and he does: ”What does it feel like to kill someone?”

He liked the more mental questions. That was the question Atticus could answer, no matter how much he wished it unanswerable. Pushing Sol from the bird cage, spearing into Eryn’s neck. Unforgettable.

Composing all his thoughts into one, long, statement, he looked at Alice first.

”There’s new types of people every year. Find the ones that you can’t see killing you, try to go with them. As for the bloodbath, it’s knowing your limits. You’re putting yourself at jeopardy, but the things in there are a necessity. Fight for what you can, and run if or when you’re thinking your life is at risk.”

He took a short breath, then turned his head to Bruce. ”It’s an ephemeral feeling to actually kill, but it’s in human nature to survive,” he took another moment, remembering his crushing blow to Ezero. ”In other words, you justify yourself first that it’s okay… but the aftermath is the scarier part.”

He stopped there with his dialogue to them, but in his head, Atticus Manor still lived in the odious aftermath. He lived everyday with twenty-three stains of blood on his hands that wouldn’t wash away.

нι вrιar ι ѕтιll вleѕѕ υ

[shrimp]

”There’s new types of people every year. Find the ones that you can’t see killing you, try to go with them. As for the bloodbath, it’s knowing your limits. You’re putting yourself at jeopardy, but the things in there are a necessity. Fight for what you can, and run if or when you’re thinking your life is at risk.”

Find the ones you can't see killing you? But doesn't that mean "ally with people who won't make it out alive?" Wouldn't you want to be partnered with the strongest people in the arena, and then figure out how to get away before they turn on you? Alice almost opens her mouth to ask when he turns to Bruce.

”It’s an ephemeral feeling to actually kill, but it’s in human nature to survive. In other words, you justify yourself first that it’s okay… but the aftermath is the scarier part.”

It feels like her mouth's been glued shut. Oh. Oh, shit. If there was a question to ask, that was it. If there's anything that Atticus Manor knows about, it's having to kill someone else to live another day. And that fact had gone completely over her head. Would this be how she went out? Failing to recognize the obvious questions and not asking the necessary ones? Stuck thinking of the granulars and not the bigger picture? She may be stronger and taller than Bruce Clayton, but he clearly has some things that she doesn't.

"Cool, ok. I'll look into that," she says to Atticus. And then she turns to her district partner, shifting her weight in her chair.

"That was a real good question, Bruce. Thanks for asking it."