Naming Names [Amelina/Gilly]

[Deleted]

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Gillian Imberline

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Oh Gilly—

You were a child back in district eight. At least, to your father and mother, you were still the one that liked imaginary games, of still sleeping with the bunny you’d been given as a toddler—a little girl that had yet to find the long shadow a strange and confusing world. But they weren’t with you on the playground when the other girls had talked about—boys, of what it would mean if you kissed, of holding hands and things that made their hearts beat too fast. You hadn’t thought about it (at first) because when you looked at the boys, they were still the same as they’d always been (nose pickers, chewed with their mouth open, covered in dirt).

It came it little waves, of noticing how the older girls walked. The shape of Shelby’s body on the television. That you felt too short, too thin, too much like the boys and not enough like the girls. And you wanted the other girls to tell you that you too were pretty, that you could grow up—should you grow up? But you still liked playing pirates, and making shadow puppet stories at night. You liked the little kid things, too—even if you started to think about what it would mean to be not so little.

You had spent the afternoon at the edge of the training center floor, next to where they taught hand to hand, head buried in your old leather bound book, with a pen in one hand. You doodled along the edges of pages that you’d pressed wildflowers, all the while staring at the boys and girls that twisted this way and that way. You didn’t know most of their names (yet) but that didn’t stop you from thinking about who they were, how they were—distractions from the lessons you should’ve been learning.

Of course, your scribbling couldn’t go unseen. You were criss-crossed along the edge of the matts when you saw her—the girl from one—across the way. And you buried your head in the book, face flushed, hoping she didn’t come anywhere near you. From what you’d seen, she was one of the last tributes you wanted to meet.

“H-hello.” You said weakly, peering up for a minute, and then back down again. Had she noticed?

⚜

[pup]

[googlefont="Amatic SC:400"]

[attr="class","shadow"]Amelina Fournié

Her strikes on the trainer are concise and quick, her hands moving fast as she worked to incapacitate him. Years of training for this, for the games. It was already exhilarating and fun. Each day in the training center did not feel like a repeat of her training, but instead a pregame prep.

She had been preparing for this moment for years, her arms and legs flowing seamlessly smooth through the air as if it was an elegant dance. Practice. Precise. Each movement was calculated along with what her green eyes saw as she spared with the trainer. A smile spread across her face as she pins him to the ground, her adrenaline starting to die away with her heavy breathing.

It was all one big game, so you might as well have a bit of fun.

She walks away from the mat after helping the trainer up with another pearly smile. With no one to talk to, her eyes scanned the room. Her eyes finally trained upon a small girl in the corner scribbling in a notebook, watching her.

With a grin, the blonde strode over to her, waving as if the girl was an old friend. It was only a kid, after all. No need to frighten the small thing before she tore her apart.

She grins down at the small girl resting on the mat. The small girl looks up at her with the face of a hare cornered by a wolf. Amy's face merely has a large smile plastered on it as she used the same voice she did with her six year old trainees at the training center she had been assigned to teach.

"Hey!" she says, turning and dropping herself on the mat next to the girl, a small thump reverberating through the air.

"Why are you sitting her all alone?" She says, her voice conversational and friendly.

Sometimes, to play the game you had to stand up and show the game that you were boss, but Amy knew a saying that was taught throughout the career centers. Not many listen, but Amy chose to grasp onto each word taught there. 'Don't hate the players,'

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marguerite harvard d2a (zori) <333

[Deleted]

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Gillian Imberline

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Oh poop.

In the list of people that scared you, Amy was close to the top (only several down from that big dog that had once bit you when you were four). You were old enough to have seen what careers did to people like you, more specifically, little ones like you, in the hunger games. They cut off your arms, pulled out your eyes, and laughed at what agony you might’ve shown. It was for the best to not antagonize, just like the bullies at home, because that would just fuel their need to make sure you felt even more pain. Not that you had much of a choice at this point.

She was the type of girl that exuded all the sorts of things you wished you could be. A woman, with a lithe body and strength, certain, steady—a sort of superheroine that certainly would show the boys that she was not one to be trifled with. She could’ve been a pirate queen then and there—the boys in your old schoolhouse would’ve never told her she couldn’t be a pirate, no sir. Especially with that voice, the one that made hair on the back of your neck stand and the goosebumps pop up along your arms.

Why are you sitting all alone? She was like a large cat, twisting and ready to pounce.

Oh god oh god oh god. Is she looking at me? Can I just die? But she was still there, standing, waiting, and wanting some sort of answer. You could’ve run away screaming, or cried. That would’ve been preferable to what you were about to do, but no one ever said you had much common sense. Rather, to her question, you decided to give an honest answer, perhaps to satisfy a terrifying beast.

“I… was making lists.” You kept your eyes on the ground. “I like to watch everyone here because—” Well, you liked to learn about them. Some because they were funny, or serious, or handsome. But it passed the time, rather than wasting it learning how not to die. “I got notes about all the people I watch ‘cause I like to imagine things. ‘Cause I don’t think there’s that much I can learn in two weeks that’s gonna help me.”

Was honesty the best policy? You might never learn the truth, but the truth certainly did you a stomach ache.

⚜

[pup]

[googlefont="Amatic SC:400"]

[attr="class","shadow"]Amelina Fournié

The blonde career relaxes, stretching out her legs away from the mat they rested on as she studied the small girl. She was just so... small? Even for a young girl, she looked young for her age. Too bad she was going to die soon enough. No one that small could survive for too long. It was sad that someone so small had to die, but oh well.

Amy grins down at the small girl as she talks, her voice small against the backdrop of loud fights and knives against rubber.

"I… was making lists.," the small girl says, her eyes averted away from the career looking down at her. "I like to watch everyone here because—" her voice cuts away for a moment, but Amy doesn't begin talking yet, continuing to look down at the little girl, waiting for her to continue. "I got notes about all the people I watch ‘cause I like to imagine things. ‘Cause I don’t think there’s that much I can learn in two weeks that’s gonna help me."

"Really, can I see it?" Amy responds after she is certain that the girl finished talking. Without waiting, Amy grins, looking down at the book and reaching out. In one quick movement she grabs it from the girl's hands like a wolf snapping on its prey. She leans back, holding it away from the girl as to prevent any attempts of grabbing it back.

With a laugh, the blonde career begins to read the notes jotted down in the notebook out loud.

"The careers are scary." She reads the first note and grinned at the girl, looking away from the book for a moment, "I know, I am scary, aren't I?" she says teasingly before looking back at the small book held in one of her hands.

"Dymas is cute." She reads another quote, looking back at the girl and grinning again, "Really? You could do better, honestly. He's a bit too stuck up honestly in my opinion.
Try for Isaac, he's pretty cute." Her eyes dart back to the book, reading quickly, searching for another amusing quote. There's no point to food unless you play with it first, is there?

"Wow, a lot of cute guys here, aren't there?" She looks back, winking at the girl, "And even more stuff about careers being scary. Why would you write this all down if you didn't expect me to read it?" She says with dying laughter, wiping her eyes dry from her tears of mirth.

She holds the book back out to the small girl, "You got some golden material in there, kid. You should read it to Caesar Flickerman during your interview."

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marguerite harvard d2a (zori) <333

[Deleted]

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Gillian Imberline

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You were reminded of the time back in district eight when one of the older girls invited you to play dress up. She told you that some of the other girls had wanted to get to know her better, and that you, Gilly, were just the type of person they could spend a whole afternoon with. You were eight, and had as many friends as you did thumbs, which was to say, not many. So you nodded your head and clapped your hands, and told her that you’d do whatever it was that they wanted. Except when it came time to put on dresses, they decided you would be the old maid. They’d found their grandmother’s old nightwear and put you in a bonnet. And then they laughed, just about the meanest thing that they could do. We’d laugh with you than leave you out, isn’t that so nice of us? You remember her voice, clear as day.

Amy was more dangerous than some silly girl back in district eight (you wonder though, if she’d be rooting for you now that you’d be on her television set). The girl from one was a killer—had she killed? And now she was leafing through your secrets, spilling them out into the air. Yet at the moment you wanted to snatch the book back, you still wanted to hear just exactly what she had to say. Could you do better than Dymas? What were the other careers like? Most important, what did Amy think of you? Because in your heart of hearts, even if it hurt to have to share such things with Amy, you still wanted her to like you.

“You won’t tell them, will you?” Your voice sounded even more young than when you stepped on stage. “I don’t want people to think about me like I’m some dumb kid.” You knew it was already too late for that, but you desperately wanted her to say otherwise. How did Amy carry herself so menacingly, with such authority? You wish you were half as bold when you stood on your own two feet, but now—you just wanted to make sure that she didn’t hurt you too badly.

“I wrote it down because it makes me feel better.” That part was true. You couldn’t tell anyone else here about how you felt, and it the more you let your thoughts swirl in your head, the worse your stomach gurgled. You needed to write them all down, or else you’d explode, or cry, or both. “It’s what I like to do to help me figure out how to feel.” You realized how silly that sounded and flushed. She wouldn’t give one lick, would she?

But then she spoke of what you should do in your interview—and your eyes light up. That didn’t sound like a half-bad idea. After all, maybe then one of the boys would actually notice you.

“You really think so?”

⚜