Nowhere To Run From Here {Jayne/Nico} {Train Thread}

[kap]

[presto][/presto]

My fingers brushed over the guitar pick that was the pendant on the string around my neck. On it was my name, Jayne. Carter had given it to me in the Justice Building, and any gift from Carter meant a lot to me. He was strong, and we were family, even if not by blood. It was comforting to have a strong family member that I knew was supporting me as I went through the Games. He understood, too. He'd been one of their pawns before, but he evolved into something more when he came home. He wasn't just one of the Capitol's playthings. He wasn't what I was going to become. The Capitol would have control over me now, as I played their little game. Or, perhaps it was more like they were using me to play their own game.

---

The inside of the train car that I'd been led to was extremely posh. There were sofas and chandeliers. There were snacks and beverages galore, meaning that there was no way anyone could starve in here. The same couldn't be said for back in District Twelve, though. People starved there on a regular basis. Here, everything looked fancy and expensive. Back home, almost nothing in my life had ever been like that. We weren't exactly poor, but we weren't superbly wealthy, either, meaning that this train was much more extravagant than the life that most people in the Districts of Panem knew.

Surely it was an ordinary thing for the Capitol citizens, though, having food everywhere, luxuries accessible left and right and no sign of poverty. The option to live in a sub-par home was probably nonexistent for those who resided in the Capitol of Panem. It made me jealous, in a way, but it also made me realize that Capitolites didn't know what the rest of us lived like. I almost pitied them for growing up their entire lives with such a lavish lifestyle.

---

My District partner sat in the same train car as me. I was on one of the red velvet sofas that was available to me, and I looked to him. His name was Nico Thorne, but we'd never actually met before today. I wondered what kind of life he lived, or how he felt about being reaped. Perhaps it would be best if I struck up a conversation. It could be a way to try to forget about what we were edging closer and closer to as the minutes went by on this high-speed train. We didn't need to talk about impending doom when we already knew it was more than likely. Maybe there was something actually decent we could talk about- even a little uplifting.

"Nico," I said with a slight smile. If I smiled any more than that it would've obviously been forced. It was nice to meet him, but not nice enough that I could smile completely when I knew where we were both headed. "You doing alright?" I asked.

I figured that checking on his well-being was one of the best ways to try to make friends, rather than enemies. I'd always liked to be on people's good side, after all. I had always dreamed of being a nurse, and did a lot of practice with first aid back home. Maybe making a friend would help me survive the arena. I wasn't sure that'd necessarily be the case, but it was always worth a shot, right? Survival was nice, and so were friends, so if I got at least one of those, I'd consider it a plus.

Both would be even better.

---

596 words
title inspired by: "Bad Dream" by Ruelle
{table by Ryan}

gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

I don't know about my dreaming anymore
All that I know is I'm falling,
falling, falling, falling.

There’s still something sharp rattling in his chest when he steps onto the train car.

He hadn’t ever thought about it, hadn’t thought about what exactly it would mean to leave behind the life that he had built for himself in District Twelve. For so long, it had been about survival, had been a matter of life or death each and every morning when he woke before dawn to turn his body into a weapon trained to kill. You’re finally going to avenge him, his mother whispered to him, reminding him of every night she would whisper tales of a murdered father being avenged by his son before she tucked him into bed.

He doesn’t remember when she started to fall apart, when a thirst for vengeance took over her soul and corrupted everything that was left behind; maybe it happened before he was even born; maybe it’s why he was born with it, this dark callousness that has served him so well in life. But then his mother had come to say goodbye, wrapped her slender arms around his waist and told him that this was the moment they had been waiting all his life for. The coolness of her hands pressed against his cheeks was still fresh on his skin when Reggie had walked through the door--this is the image that stays with him now, one of his past, of the people  he  is leaving  behind,  the  one  imagine  that rattles around in Nico’s head as he sits in the car on the way to the station, the one that makes him wonder if this was the right thing to do as he steps into the train car and sees the world that he has just been condemned to.

Nico had expected something that would disgust him.

But not even in his wildest dreams could he imagine this.

The sight of all that food just lying out made his stomach turn, made him remember every morning that he woke with pain so sharp he thought he might die, how he’d have to endure that feeling all through the day until he could get to the market and trade for something that might sate his hunger. The entire room is lit up, blinding and bright, and it makes him miss the candles that he had to live by.

Everything in this room makes Nico feel suffocated, makes him wish that he could be anywhere else in the world--preferably standing behind the shoulder of the man who killed his father, knife ready to slip between a pair of ribs. Instead he settles for staring at the trees, sinks into one of the many--too many--plush chairs at the edge of the room, as far from the food as he can get.

He has no intention of talking to his fellow tribute, not really. She seems soft, small.

A girl made of roses with none of the thorns.

Nico has no time for flowers.

When she breaks the silence, a part of Nico is glad that it’s with such foolishness. Nico will kill who he needs to, bleed dry anyone who stands between him and his vengeance, but he’ll enjoy none of it. “Am I--” he starts, and then scoffs, letting a wide grin settle across his cheeks. It’s ridiculous really, the kind of opening line that he wonders if she spent any time considering how she was going to talk to him before opening her mouth.

He thinks the answer must be no.

“Really? That’s what you want to open with?” He raises his eyebrows, looking at her skeptically before shaking his head and pushing out of the plush chair he’d sat down in earlier. The question makes him restless, reckless, wants to show her exactly who it is that she has been condemned to enter the arena with. He turns away from her, moving to survey the display of food. Carelessly, he plucks something fluffy and brown from one of the trays, with some kind of white stuff drizzled over top of it, and brings it to his nose. It’s so sickly sweet he almost vomits right there. “You hoping we’re going to be friends, then? Hold hands and have each others back until death do we part?”

song: the wilhelm scream
by james blake

[kap]

[presto][/presto]

The absolute most conflicting part of my personality came with how sensitive I was, emotionally. I'd never been good at confrontation, as I hated to hurt other people, whether that be with my words, or physically, but I also got upset very easily, and hated to be walked all over. Yet, not wanting to hurt others sometimes made it difficult to stand up for myself. Maybe this was the awakening I needed before the Games, though. My district partner being a jerk to me may just be what would make me angry enough to at least stand up for myself and maybe, just maybe, by the time that the Games themselves rolled around, I'd be comfortable enough to physically fight the other tributes. I wouldn't survive if I didn't end up that way eventually, meaning I may as well start now.

"Am I..." he started, as if he were going to respond to my question. Nico seemed a bit taken aback by the fact that I'd spoken to him, and it seemed as if it had really irritated him. This was made quite clear with his next choice in words that he decided to deliver to me, not thinking about how they may impact my emotions. Then again, a lot of people weren't kind enough to think about how their words and actions impacted others. Some people have said to me that I think about it too much, which very well could be my downfall, according to them.

"Really? That’s what you want to open with?" he says with his eyebrows now raised. Clearly, he was dissatisfied with my choice of words, maybe even more so than he was with me speaking to him in the first place. Shaking his head and rising from his chair, he seems thoroughly irritated while inspecting some food. Nico also seems disgusted by the food. Is there anything, food, people, places or otherwise, that wouldn't disgust Nico? I wondered.

"You hoping we’re going to be friends, then? Hold hands and have each others back until death do we part?" he asked of me. I paused a moment before I answered him. I had been hoping to become friends. Although, that latter part was not so much on my mind. Now, however, I wasn't sure that I wanted anything to do with him. Maybe it was about time that I, Jayne Ashbrook-Laws, stopped sitting back and letting other people use and abuse me like I was their little pawn. I needed to show them that I was more of a fighter. Maybe I could be a knight on this chess board of life. As long as I could get away from being the pawn that everyone sacrificed and walked all over, I would be happy.

Although, I'd have to say something myself if I wanted to get there.

"Excuse me? What gives you the right to speak to me, or anyone the way you just did?" I needed to change my words. It sounded like I was lecturing him. What to say... what to say? I thought quickly, rose from my seat swiftly, and the next batch of words emerged from my lips.

"You know, I was thinking I'd try to make friends with you at first. Having enemies isn't exactly the way to prevent yourself from being murdered in the arena. I suppose that doesn't really matter to you, though." I took a quick breath before I continued speaking. I was looking this boy dead in the eyes, the rage of my years of staying quiet when someone was rude to me finally surfacing. "Also, staying quiet probably won't get you very far, either. People in that arena probably won't be afraid to kill a stranger, meaning it's best to make friends."

I didn't stop there, though. At this point, I was pacing back and forth around the train car that we were in, looking over to glare at Nico every couple of seconds.

"You know what that means for you? You're going to have a lot of people who hate you, and although I'd rather not be one of them, because I don't want to hate anyone, you're getting real close to that point with me."

The problem was, I was already starting to hate this guy, and honestly, the one person I had from home was probably the one person I should try not to hate.

---

726 words
title inspired by: "Bad Dream" by Ruelle
{table by Ryan}

gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.

[gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.]

I don't know about my dreaming anymore
All that I know is I'm falling,
falling, falling, falling.

He can't help but laugh.

For as long as Nico can remember, he has stared up at the stage where tributes are taken from his world and thrust into another, one not anymore cruel than the life that he had been forced to grow up in, but one far away, one so distant that he hadn't thought until recently he'd ever be a part of it. The one common thread through it all though, the string that tied all those memories together--he remembers the sight of the mayor standing up on that dais, preaching to his people about the ways the games bring us together, about the ways that there is honor in death and honor in life, and the games show us both.

It would seem that Jayne's parents taught her well.

The second that little excuse me slips past her little rosebud for a mouth, Nico knows exactly what he has gotten himself into, knows exactly how the coming days are going to make him want to rip her tongue out if not his own ear drums.

He knows about her, knows about the adopted little sister of the male tribute from last year.

Carter Laws.

Nico has little respect for those who get themselves killed.

The only death that has ever mattered in his life was the life that got taken before he was born, with a government-issued knife in his father's back and blood staining the cold dirt beneath him.

Nico realizes absently that he's still holding the golden brown thing in his head, the thing that smelled like too sweet cream and some kind of spice that he's never seen before. Sugary and brown swirled through it, the stuff on top leaving something sticky behind. You know, I was thinking I'd try to make friends with you at first. That line almost gets him, almost makes him stop pressing his lips together to hold back laughter. Having enemies isn't exactly the way to prevent yourself from being murdered in the arena. I suppose that doesn't really matter to you, though, she says, moving to stand before him finally, and the sight of it makes him smile, something reckless and restless stirring in his heart. The naivety on this girl, the fierce way she holds onto it and makes it her commandments, well--

Nico always did love a fight.

He chuckles, shakes his head and just lets her go on--
seems like she needs it more than he does anyways.

I don't want to hate anyone.

Nico finally stops biting his tongue.

"Oh really?" he replies, eyebrows raised in mock interest, his mouth a mocking smile. Without thinking about it too much, he lifts his hand with the baked good in it and tosses it across the room, lets it go sailing until it lands in the waste bin on the other side of the train car. A part of him feels sick with it, sick with all the waste. This train car was filled with more food than Nico thinks he's ever seen in a year, decorated lavishly in all dark velvet greens of some other world. "Daddy's little girl doesn't want to hate anyone?" He makes a mock pout at her before turning away again. She might be doing everything in her seemingly small power to get in his face, to challenge him with words she thinks will intimidate him, but Nico stopped being intimidated by privilege a decade ago. Now all he wants is to stomp it out. "I've got no intention of staying quiet, Jayne," he says, using her first name for the first time.

He takes a step away from her, then two, moving around to the other side of the table to look at all the other things that make his stomach turn.

"You're right that it's no secret people won't be afraid to kill strangers in the arena," he inhales deeply, bending down to look at the bottom tray of a tall pyramids silver platters, sandwiches decorating each and every layer. He thinks the bottom ones are different from the layer above, and same and so on as they go up. He wonders about the people that had to prepare all of this, would bet his life that their life isn't half so lush as they people they are forced to serve. "And I know exactly what that means for me."

He stands straight, finally looking her in the eyes, not smiling or laughing or mocking any more.

"You're mistake is thinking I have any interest
in you being something else."

song: the wilhelm scream
by james blake

[kap]

[presto][/presto]

A feeling I'd very rarely ever had in my life started to flow through my body. There was rage inside of me, and that was a rarity. Usually, if I got a little upset, I didn't let it get this far. I would normally just push aside the anger and irritation, ignoring it the best that I could, but this guy, this asshole of a dude named Nico, wasn't making that very easy. I had my fists both clenched at this point, my District partner mocking me when I spoke.

"Oh really?" he says to me, launching one of the pastries across the room. I don't bother to see where it lands, as his next words only caused me further frustration.

"Daddy's little girl doesn't want to hate anyone?"

The fake pouting look on his face made me want to punch him.

I'd never wanted to punch someone before.

I'd always been the peaceful type. Jayne Ashbrook-Laws, the pacifist. The nice, sweet, peaceful girl who never picked a fight. That's who I was for the longest time. Apparently, though, Nico was causing that persona to start to fade. Maybe it was a good thing, though. Maybe it would mean that I could get myself to fight. I'd just ignore the fact that he'd called me 'daddy's little girl' the best I could. There was no point in letting that get to me, as so many other things about he and his choice in words made me angry already.

"I've got no intention of staying quiet, Jayne." When he spoke, I was taken a little off guard by the boy's use of my first name, but I didn't say anything about it. He went back over to the table of food, and I wouldn't have been surprised if it was for ammunition of baked goods to throw at me, or just around the room in general.

"You're right that it's no secret people won't be afraid to kill strangers in the arena," he doesn't seem to actually care about what I'd said, but he's mentioning my words anyway, and it feels strange. I can tell that it just means he's doing it to mock me. That's all that this entire conversation had been for him; an opportunity to mock a fifteen-year-old girl who'd tried to make friends with him.

"And I know exactly what that means for me," he continues. His mocking stops, and now his sights are locked dead on me. My heart skips a beat and then starts picking up pace.

"Your mistake is thinking I have any interest in you being something else."

He wanted me to be a stranger, he had just told me. He wouldn't be afraid to kill a stranger, so he wouldn't be afraid to kill me. He had avoided speaking to me so that he'd be willing to kill me more easily. That's just messed up, I told myself. The thing was, though, that this conversation most definitely didn't make Nico less likely to try to kill me.

---

498 words
title inspired by: "Bad Dream" by Ruelle
{table by Ryan}

gamemaker tallis 🧚🏽‍♂️kaitlin.