Hymn For The Shameless (WT, Cinder, Tori)

[Quint]

I'm ready to meet my maker...as to whether my maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter...

Allies. In the Games, they were either your fatal downfall or a grand help. He looked back to last year’s Games, where the male tribute from District 2 was slaughtered down by his team mates. Because of this, allies had been one of the many things Shanks had doubted as he entered the Games. He was representing his District. First of all, he had to find someone he could trust. Though, that task, would most definitely prove to be quite difficult, considering the little time the Capitol had given them to train at their stations before they entered the place that would most likely end their lives.

He approached one of his first training stations. First Aid would be useful in the Games. After all, he didn’t have much knowledge on the topic. Fishing was his area of expertise. He could only hope that there would be some sort of nautical specimen in the Arena. He began playing with some bandages and some ointments they had provided. While doing so, he examined the room, looking for any potential allies...or threats.

The tributes did look slightly more threatening than they did last year. He recalled the the majority of the former tributes were scared and shaken, not able to accept their place in the Games. But Shanks could pull through. He owed District 4. They had taken care of him while...others...couldn’t. Everyone had made sure he had been fed properly. They all greeted him each morning, reminding him how much of an awesome person they thought he was.

He spotted some tributes that looked worth while. They’d be able to protect him surely. Problem was, they were a bit too strong for him. They could over power him at any moment. He needed to find exceptional good hearted fighters. With that, he’d guarantee a loyal (for the time being anyway) and formidable group of tributes.

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[cinder]

You've been hanging with the unloved kids
Who you never really liked and you never trusted
But you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins
Never committing to anything

Dru was having a mental debate inside her head. The opponents were both skilled politicians, citing examples of why she should or should not find herself a few mindless minions, or as people usually referred to them, 'allies.' At this particular moment in time, Dru was thinking the Pro-Allie politician had a point. People were more likely to come after a lone Career than if she were surrounded by a fearsome band of misfits. Dru was already inclined to like the wild-eyed, mumbling girl from District Twelve. The one who wanted to be a rock star. Or just a rock? Dru did not recall, although it did seem like a polite conversation starter if the situation presented itself.

Then there was that one, Hilderic. He had the look of a Career about him although Dru was fairly certain he did not hail from one of the three main Career-breeding Districts. Pedigree did play a part in who Dru Charlesburg chose to hang out with, especially when her life depended on it. That's why she found herself sashaying across the training center, hips 'a swinging and eye-lashes dropping in that flirty way boys usually responded to as she approached Shanks. The boy was about a year or two younger than herself, but he had volunteered plus he came from a Career District nonetheless. She liked the sound of that.

Dru approached him, all the while fabricating an opening line. How did you go about saying, 'I want you as an Allie in the killer, Hunger Games,' in polite society these days? One did not state the previous out loud. Dru found her saving grace in the form of the boys eyes locking on the First Aid station. She slithered up from the right side of the boy, glanced at the cheery, smiling woman at the station who bore a name-tag that said she was a certified medic by the name of Roxanne. Dru let her eyes slide from the painfully boring woman to the all too interesting Tribute.

She attempted to insert some flirty tones in her usually unchanging voice. "If you had somebody with you in the Arena, you wouldn't need any medical training because there would be somebody to watch your back." Dru non-chalantly leaned against the wall behind them, assessing the situation, tasting the atmosphere for signs of startled prey. Had she just scared or intrigued the volunteer-Tribute? Dru let a coy smile loose and batter her eye-lashes for good measure, praying to God her good-looks would save the situation Dur may have just made a mess of.

[WT]

((OOC- Whaaaat. When did it get so long? o.o Sorry, guys!))

"Okay. Now, if I hold you like this, I have your arms captive. My ally is getting ready to stab you, and you can't run away. There's still something you can do, though."

Aranica surveyed her body. Her arms were in fact held tightly, which negated most of the moves she'd been taught earlier, and she couldn't move her head very much, either. The instructor waited patiently while she figured out what to do. It only took a few seconds, but to Ara, who was doing her best to pretend this was a real scenario, it felt like an eternity.

She almost announced it, as she usually did when she figured something out (she rarely thought much before speaking). She'd already been scolded for giving her "attacker" warnings, though, so she just acted. She pulled one leg up and kicked backward firmly (though not too hard- this was only a lesson, after all), hitting her temporary teacher in the knee. He stumbled and loosened his grip; she took advantage of that by hooking her foot around the same knee and pulling. He fell to the floor, and she beamed. Finally, she had done something right!

The hypothetical "ally" (the one who was waiting to stab her) popped into her mind, and his earlier advice- to never let her guard down- resurfaced. She made as if to run, and was even starting to take a few steps when she heard the clapping. She stopped and turned, a hesitant smile on her face. "That was good?" she asked, a little worried that she'd made another mistake but overall quite confident.

The self-defence instructor she was working with, a green-and-purple-haired man who had introduced himself as Cheyss, stopped clapping so he could bounce to his feet. "Yes!" he said by way of reassurance, patting Aranica on the shoulder. "That was much, much better than you would have done when we started, Ara."

"I didn't trip myself this time," she agreed, grinning. She still didn't like the idea of fighting and hurting other people, but she had to admit that learning how to defend herself was fun, and she felt more accomplished than she had in ages. “What you said about the balance really helps, I’ll have to remember it.”

Somewhere in the training center, someone’s clock beeped to mark an hour. Aranica jumped a little, and her eyes widened with surprise. “I didn’t realize I’d been here so long. I should probably go somewhere else, or I’ll never learn everything I need to know.” She paused, then through herself at the man- not to initiate another practice bout, but to give him a hug. “Thanks, Cheyss!”

He laughed and returned the hug, and then let her go on her way. She wandered around from station to station, looking for one that sounded particularly helpful; as always, she kept to the sides of the room, so that she didn’t have to go into the sprawling open space that scared her so much. (At least they were training inside. She had seen some clouds when she looked out a window earlier, and she wouldn’t put it past them to take advantage of her distraction to hit her with some lightning.)

First aid! A station about healing- about fixing people instead of hurting them. That sounded good. She cut across a small patch of open ground (she ran so that she wouldn’t have to stay there very long) and pulled up a seat in front of a table with some bandages, gauze, and sheets of paper with what appeared to be step-by-step instructions. A smiling woman appeared and explained a few things, and then Ara set to work.

For a time, she was too caught up in following the directions (and chatting some with the materials) to notice anything else around her. Bandaging a wound properly was harder than she would have thought, and she struggled with it for a while; Roxanne, the woman running the station, offered to help, but she insisted on figuring it out herself. Just because she had never done this before didn’t mean she couldn’t learn, right?

She was just starting to get it when the bandage in her hand ripped and let out a small yelp of pain. “Oops!” She looked down frantically. “Sorry, bandage!”

“S’alright,” the piece of cloth told her sleepily. Apparently it was already over it. With a sigh of relief that she hadn’t hurt it too badly, she wrapped the rest of it around her arm tightly, as per the instructional diagram in front of her. It felt snug and a little bizarre, but she found that she could move her arm and fingers easily.

“Ahah!”

Her concentration was broken now, and she was no longer working anyway, so she took the time to look around a bit. To a bit of surprise, she found that she had been joined; a boy who she vaguely recognized (his name sounded kind of like the word sharks, and he was from an upper district) was fiddling with some ointments. She watched him, curiosity keeping her unusually silent. She had learned how to make arm splints for herself and others, and to bind gashes and cuts the right way, but she hadn’t even touched the medicines yet.

Another tribute appeared, this one a female from one of the other upper districts. Aranica watched in fascination as Dru (the name was Dru, right?) sauntered up to the sharkish-named boy; she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why the Career was walking like that, but it obviously had a purpose, so maybe she could learn from it. Unfortunately, the older girl stopped walking before Ara could watch enough to figure anything out. Ara turned back to the bandage on her arm, ready to get back to work- this time to cut it off.

Then Dru started talking. Ara’s head shot up and she glanced over again, her eyes fixated on the pair. She didn’t say anything, because she wasn’t sure how to talk to these two very formidable people. They were still people, though, no matter how intimidating, and she liked talking to people. Maybe if she paid attention long enough, an opening in the conversation would show up?

[Tori]

The ride down the elevator, to below the ground floor was almost too much, even for Jango. The boy normally had a sunny disposition, and charming smile. But he hadn't smiled since he reached the train taking him to the capitol. Away from his district. Away from his family. Away from Veronica. Jango was not ready for this. He could feel it. He was not ready to kill 23 people. But he had to.

Just as he thought he wouldn't be able to handle thinking of home anymore, the doors to the elevator opened, allowing him to step into a vast underground gym. There were tons of lights to compensate for the sun not being able to reach underground. Jango looking around, noticing that he wasn't the late tribute here, but he certainly wasn't the first. Most of the kids had gotten up much ealier than himself.

He looked around, still slightly stunned, trying to decide where to go first. The first thing that probably needed to be done was introductions right? Surely, tributes would need to know each other to determine allies, yes? His eyes surveyed the gym, looking for a crowded station. He found his wish by the first aid table. Three tributes, two girls and a boy, were gathered around the station.

It would be a good station to learn at anyways. He knew nothing about first aid. As Jango sauntered over to the station, a memory flew through his mind. He remembered when Serenity's nimble fingers danced across his face the day Rocko punched him. For the first time since arrival, Jango Graves smiled. That was the first time he was able to spend alone time with Veronica because she was upset with what her brother had done. Rocko. Jango would have to avenge him.

When he arrived at the station, two of the tributes were already speaking. Jango was unsure if he should interupt or not, so instead he addressed the girl that was working intently on dressing a wound. "Um, hey. I'm Jango Graves, district six. You?" Jango didn't recognise any of the tributes because he had taken to not actually watching the reaping, and instead memorising the ceiling tiles on in the train car.

[Quint]

I'm ready to meet my maker...as to whether my maker is prepared for the ordeal of meeting me is another matter...

Shanks was not weak. Oh no no no. Weak was the last thing someone would refer to as the District 4 fisherboy. No, he wasn’t extremely tall with bulging pecs and rock hard abs. He was fairly skinny and just as average as any kid going through puberty. And no, he wasn’t weak in the mind. He was actually pretty smart. Not a prodigy, but smart all the same. Though, if he had one weakness, it’d surely decide to take it’s place once a seductive girl approached him in the most ostentatious of ways. He could feel his hormones vigorously flourishing in his blood as she walked up. What a day, what a day...

"If you had somebody with you in the Arena, you wouldn't need any medical training because there would be somebody to watch your back." she purred. He giggled and he felt his knees give in, his legs slipping like jelly. As he descended, he caught the wall, pulling himself up and keeping a steady grip, just in case he tried something else.

"Good point. I’ll need someone to snuggle for warmth, right?” he winked and scratched the back of his neck. He continued to play with the bandages, wrapping the bandages around his hands as an alternative for gloves. Not long after, he caught sight of another girl approaching the training station. He remembered her from the Reaping and a few times after that. She was from District 12. A bit wacky at that, but hey, wasn’t she, like, 12? She was one of the youngest in the pool of tributes, only a year younger than him. But she had a major disadvantage. Nobody her age had ever won the Games before. Especially considering that she resided from the poorest District. But he supposed anyone could win. After all, last year, they had a blind tribute from District 12 win. Against every odd, surprisingly.

It was perhaps one of the strongest acts of defiance. It showed the Capitol that even the weakest of the weak could overcome their attacks. Their Games. It showed them that their strongest weapon could be shot down by a blind 15 year old. He was, in fact, the greatest underdog in the history of the Games. Though perhaps his faulty sight was an advantage in his case. He wasn’t cursed with the duty of watching others die.

Shanks, however, had always been neutral. He never thought about it. He decided the only thing he had to worry about was himself. Screw the Capitol. Screw the other Districts. It was just him and District 4. They’d take it all.

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[cinder]

Irritation fought its way onto Dru's face, replacing the suave expression that had won over more than one boys heart. Insolent boy! roared a part of her mind. Her mother had once called her an insolent girl, unworthy of the Charlesburg name. Dru recalled having snuck in through her bedroom window after a night of too much fun to find the woman sitting on her bed, blue eyes flashing in the predawn light. Her fingers had been curled up into a tight fist, her long, talon-nails grazing the delicate, white skin that was the palms of her hands.

Dru thought she looked rather like her mother in that one moment, as the younger boy aired his weakling status. Buckling knees? Miss Charlesburg assumed that only happened in B-rate movies. Of course he could be faking it, complimenting Dru in the one way he could. She didn't care much--her mind was set on an Allie, and all the better he have a thing for her. The boy was tossing a casual line her way in an instant. She liked his bounce-back time although the line was much cheesier than her own.

"Hmm. Huddling for warmth? Did your trainer teach you that back home? Its a useful trick." She turned her attention to the two Tributes standing a few feet away, slightly bored with Shanks. He was a bit of a let-down, just some self-impressed punk. Ara, Dru's secret favorite and a boy by the name of Jango were conversing, that was better considering they were two Tributes sure to get sympathy points. Dru assumed she was a little too... off for even the most eccentric of sponsors, so joining up with people guaranteed to receive help from the outside world seemed like a wise move on her part.

"Ara, you look like you already know how to use that stuff," Drusilla commented, impressed by the girls knowledge. Dru made eye-contact with everybody, quickly, before introducing herself. "I'm called Dru, by the way--from District One. I think I know all of you already." A bright smile plastered to her face eluded to her kind nature. Dru was trying to come across as the slightly misunderstood, suspected-Career girl with a fabulous face that would earn her fans in the Capitol, and a need for companionship. Thats what her Mentor had told her would work best. The scary-chick stuff was too hard-core for the Capitol, her soft, physical appearance also made it impossible. She simply could not pull off the dangerous-Career 'tude that so many District One Tributes usually went for. It made her unique, but Dru hated the idea of people thinking she was a flower, delicate and controllable. She was a wild-card in real life. Pretending to be somebody she was not would just make things harder on Dru.

ooc- meh. I wanted all four of them to talk but couldn't think of anything to say.

[WT]

Using a knife to do something complicated next to your arm was better done when you paid attention, so Aranica reluctantly took her eyes away form the two tributes at the station. Carefully but quickly (she would have no time to hesitate in the Arena) she tore down the middle of the bandage and peeled it away. Some sort of adhesive had been put on the inside of the cloth, and it stuck to her skin to imitate dried blood. She winced, and had to bit her lip, but managed to get the bandage off without giving away her location crying out.

"Thank you for letting me use you, bandage! Sorry about the cutting part." She folded it over and smoothed it out, watching in awe as the ragged tear smoothed out and the cloth made itself ready for its next use (the Capitol may be cruel, but they came up with the most amazing things).

All the while, she kept one ear trained on the other two tributes, just in case they said anything interesting. However, neither of them ended up being the one who drew her full attention; that was a newcomer, someone who she hadn't even seen arrive because she'd been so focused on her work and the two people to one side of her.

Jango Graves. Well, that was familiar, at least. He had a girlfriend back home, or at least she thought he did. No, she was sure of it, because she remembered not being sure whether to be jealous or feel sorry for him. In the end she had settled for her old standby: optimism. He had better than a one in twenty-four chance of seeing her again, and those weren't sure long odds, right?

Ignoring the fact that this optimistic outlook included her own death, Aranica smiled at him and held out her hand in welcome. "Aranica Petros, District Twelve. I'm pleased to make your ac-acquaintance." The slight stumble on the last word didn't dim her happiness at managing to weild Papero's phrase. He would be proud. Maybe. He would probably at least like knowing that he had taught her something, so she should tell him later. Anyways, that was later and not now; for now, she had a conversation to continue.

She was about to go on when one of the voices buzzing on the edge of her radar came closer. She looked up and around, and her eyebrows went up a fraction of a centimeter when she realized that the District One tribute was talking to her. “Huh? Oh, mm-mmm.” Ara shook her head and went slightly pink with embarrassment. Did Dru actually sound impressed? No way. That was her imagination. “I’m just good at following instructions, that’s all.” She indicated the diagrams in front of her.

What she didn’t mention was that she wasn’t just good at following instructions, she was good at absorbing them. A long while from now- or at least, as far from now as she would be given the chance to get- she would be able to recall how to do these things, and would perform them with few (if any) errors if she needed to. Part of the reason she didn’t say that was her nature, though; she was the sort of person who didn’t notice those kidns of things about themselves. (No doubt if it came up at all, she would be surprised to find that she could manage it.) Even if she could say it, she was also the kind of person who didn’t like to brag. Either way, the result was the same: she left what she had said as it was and moved on with things.

Dru. She had been right, then. She was pleased to know that; she had been pretty sure she had the name right, but that wasn't quite the same as totally sure, and she liked knowing people's names. It made them people, instead of just tributes. "And..." her eyes slid to the boy who wasn't Jango, the sharkish-named boy, and she pursed her lips slightly as she wracked her brain. "I'm don't... Sharks is all I can come up with, and I don't think that's right." She ducked her head, this time more out of shame than embarrassment. It was neither particularly polite nor very nice of her to not know his name when she recognized most of the other people. "Sorry."

[Tori]

Jango hoped he sounded polite enough. He didn’t want to scare away any potential allies. The girl he spoke to turned around to face him. Claire. That was all he thought about as he looked the girl standing in front of him in the eyes. She reminded him of Claire. She was short and tiny. She looked fragile, like his sister. Her hair was dark like Clarie’s too. Like Jango’s mother. Like Veronica. More than anything he wanted to pull this stranger into a hug.

She held out her hand and introduced herself. Aranica Petros. Jango accepted her hand, settling for it rather than an embrace. “It’s a pleasure, Aranica.” Jango nodded to her and released her hand gently. She must have been the youngest tribute here. Jango found himself not able to removed her eyes from her face. The more he looked upon her, the more he thought of his sister. His thoughts were only interrupted by another.

The other girl that had been at the station. She introduced herself as Dru. Nothing more. Since Jango hadn’t really watched the reaping on television, he felt as thought he might be the only one who didn’t already know all the tributes by name. He would actually have to make an effort to watch it when he returned to his room tonight. “Jango.” He replied to her. She also seemed younger than him, but not by much.

There was a boy standing next to Dru, and Jango realized that he was the oldest amongst all of them. Aranica addressed him as Sharks something. Feeling that it would be rude just to stand there, Jango introduced himself as well. “Jango Graves, district six. Nice to meet you, Dru. And.. Sharks, is it?” It was an interesting name at least. It seemed intimidating. And Dru and Sharks surely seemed like a Career power team. They looked like a good pair to ally with, but Jango wouldn’t be swayed by looks. Afterall, little Aranica in front of him seemed all too innocent to be in such a horrible games. But she was stronger than she looked, being able to deal with her fate. Let’s see how it all unfolds.