going up // [Carter+Temple]

[sbeeg]

I slip into the elevator on the ground floor with two other tributes. Dinner had finished serving and the gym had been locked for the day. Another day closer to the games, another square ticked off the calendar and yet I felt no more prepared for what was to come. My fingers were sore from wrapping twine around sticks, attempting time and time again to put together a rudimentary spear. By the end of the day I had a pile of weapons that the trainer frowned at and slowly began to undo all my work.

Tired, I lean against the wall of the elevator dreading the long ascent up to the tenth floor. The second floor opens, and the small brunette gets off without a word.

I look at the only other tribute and see a big "12" stitched on his sleeve. I squint at his face, trying to remember the name that goes with the boy. The district twelve girl had an usual name, something like Hell Moe. The boy's name had been so common I didn't give it a second thought. My brain ran through the reapings that played on the train as they made their way to the Capitol.

Rhodes? No, that was District Eleven.


Laws. I didn't remember his first name, but I didn't need too. Six years ago I watched his brother die on television.

The floor for District Two whizzed by and that familiar tingling in my ribs fired up again.

"I'm sorry about your brother," I said. My words didn't bring him back and they certainly didn't get either of us back home. Maybe I wanted to be kind before the Capitol turned me cruel. My last week to be Temple Jones before I became Snow's Temple.

I give him a small smile, it's all I have left to give.

[Tom]

Another day gone from Carter's life, just another reminder that death was coming.

The sounds of twenty four others doing all that they can to get better for the inevitable fight for their lives. Instead of training on this day, Carter spent most of it littering his arms in doodles of nature that he remembers. A rocky mountain side with snow like the one Mitchell had died on. The rest of the time was spent moving cards around with ease and reminding him of his quick hands that impressed even his brother and father. Mitchell had protected him from the stealing side of Jack and himself, but after his brother's death, he knew what Mitchell did when he was too young to understand. A new watch that his father could have bought them appearing on his brother's own arm, despite Carter knowing they could have afforded for one themselves. A sigh as he remembers those days.

The capitol was different. Different in a way that only a place with extremely high tech technology and more ingenious ideas exist. Not that the people of the districts were dumb, just that the capitol kept them from the existence of this stuff or that many of the districts didn't share their pleasantries. The elevator was an interesting place in all of the training center. Carter took any reason to try and go up and down on it every so often, but this time there were others. Not paying attention to the small brunette who leaves the elevator, until she's gone and he's actually looking around at who's left.

Only one other with the number '10' on her shoulder. The female tribute of District Ten, who he couldn't remember the name of off the top of his tongue. The elevator moves up again as he focuses back to the expanse of black ink that swirls in patterns and shapes. He almost misses the girl's words when they come out.

"I'm sorry about your brother,"

Sorry. A word that he's heard since Mitchell's grave had been picked out. Jack's tearful one as he tried to convince Carter that they'd be okay. They never were okay since then. The sorry of Raisa Mortuus in the form of a dead man's voice. The sorry that echoes from his father's lips when he was found in the icy cold of a morning on the porch. Sorry got old, but he just ignores the pang of hurt in his chest and instead gives a half smile. Speaking of the easiest words to stop the conversation from happening.

"It's fine."

A fake smile on his face as he glances to the wall past her waiting for the dreaded ride to be over.

Too bad, he was never lucky enough for that.

[sbeeg]

His lips twist into a smile so similar to the one Mace gave me on the train. Strained, forced, a mask to hide all the emotions churning in ones head. Mace and the Laws boy had experienced death, something I could not relate to. I had witnessed animals dying, and wathed the tributes on television but I didn't know them

"It's fine."

The words echoed in my mind. I don't know if anyone has ever truly meant them. I've thrown them out before at Kahinta just to get her to her stop asking me if I'm okay. They are an easy white lie that no one thinks twice about.

I look into his face. Carter. That's his name. Carter Laws.

"It's not," I say, returning the strained smile before looking forward and watching the numbers climb. "But that's okay too."