The train that takes them to the Capitol has become familiar, like a visit to a place you used to hate with a burning passion, but now only makes you feel hollow. ( Read )
Despite herself, Airelle feels a small, humorless smile begin to tug at the corners of her lips. She had not managed to form an opinion on them from their Reapings, as she sometimes had, but it’s no matter-here everything becomes clear as day: Perynne Grittel tries too hard and Dever Cayle not enough, and this will not be a year for District 9. Neither of these children will leave the arena.
Her eyes narrow as they turn to Perynne’s defiant gaze, taking in the tension, the edges, the brittle hardness. The small smile is back, and this time, it’s tinged with just the slightest hint of disappointment.
“Are you ready, really? I do wonder,” she says at last, injecting her voice with more amusement than she truly feels, and ignoring the girl’s question. “He’s right, you know. I can only do so much for you-if you are simply determined to die, it’s hardly my fault, and no amount of mentoring is going to change that.”
She sinks deeper and hates herself further with every syllable she speaks. Years ago, before her victory and even shortly afterwards, the words would have made her wince. Too bitter, too harsh. If she’d heard them spoken to her during her days as a tribute, she would have stormed out of the car, and each year, deep down, she hopes one of them will do just that.
“Sponsors are the one thing I can promise you-you’ll be easy, I can tell you that. Victor’s daughter, proud, hard. That will sell, as long as you try not to die too soon.” Without waiting for an answer, she turns towards the boy, Dever. This one she can’t read quite as easily, but he is also less hostile. “What about you, then?” she asks. “What should I do with you?”
The way he phrased his sentence, the we he used, is not lost on her.
He cherishes his life far more now that he can feel its end approaching. Dever has no real experience fighting, no stories to boost his confidence at night. His parents are poor, harvesting crops for their small farm and the ones of the older couples who can't do the labour. He can wield a blade, knows fifty uses for a pair of scissors, but he thinks he has no chance when it comes down to it. He has seen Perynne use a scythe with vicious force, as though she was practising and it only dawns on him as he takes the steps numbingly to his scaffold.
Their mentor goads them with words that are harsh, but he doesn't mind them--they won't help. Airelle hasn't brought a victor home in too long, and he doesn't think she can bring him home. He watches with casual disinterest at the two staring off, refusing to fall prey to Airelle's attempts to see through him. Perynne is too angry, he too indifferent. She bites her words, stinging everyone with their poison, and he only brushes them off. They hardly know each other, but he has seen her at school, her eyes too bright and her mind too keen, but she knows what she's doing and he plans to take his advantage.
He shrugs at her questions, sitting a bit straighter. Perynne glares at their mentor and he fights the urge to laugh. "You can paint whatever image you'd like for me because it doesn't matter much in the end, as long as my survival skills are worthy." A pause. He is certain that being her ally would result in his death sooner rather than later, but if she can work her way through the arena, he can learn from her and then he can use his real knack for staying hidden.
"It might be worth a shot, though I'd like to have more than just her. She'll kill me in my sleep."
Her eyes narrow as they turn to Perynne’s defiant gaze, taking in the tension, the edges, the brittle hardness. The small smile is back, and this time, it’s tinged with just the slightest hint of disappointment.
“Are you ready, really? I do wonder,” she says at last, injecting her voice with more amusement than she truly feels, and ignoring the girl’s question. “He’s right, you know. I can only do so much for you-if you are simply determined to die, it’s hardly my fault, and no amount of mentoring is going to change that.”
She sinks deeper and hates herself further with every syllable she speaks. Years ago, before her victory and even shortly afterwards, the words would have made her wince. Too bitter, too harsh. If she’d heard them spoken to her during her days as a tribute, she would have stormed out of the car, and each year, deep down, she hopes one of them will do just that.
“Sponsors are the one thing I can promise you-you’ll be easy, I can tell you that. Victor’s daughter, proud, hard. That will sell, as long as you try not to die too soon.” Without waiting for an answer, she turns towards the boy, Dever. This one she can’t read quite as easily, but he is also less hostile. “What about you, then?” she asks. “What should I do with you?”
The way he phrased his sentence, the we he used, is not lost on her.
“Are you going to be allies?”
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Their mentor goads them with words that are harsh, but he doesn't mind them--they won't help. Airelle hasn't brought a victor home in too long, and he doesn't think she can bring him home. He watches with casual disinterest at the two staring off, refusing to fall prey to Airelle's attempts to see through him. Perynne is too angry, he too indifferent. She bites her words, stinging everyone with their poison, and he only brushes them off. They hardly know each other, but he has seen her at school, her eyes too bright and her mind too keen, but she knows what she's doing and he plans to take his advantage.
He shrugs at her questions, sitting a bit straighter. Perynne glares at their mentor and he fights the urge to laugh. "You can paint whatever image you'd like for me because it doesn't matter much in the end, as long as my survival skills are worthy." A pause. He is certain that being her ally would result in his death sooner rather than later, but if she can work her way through the arena, he can learn from her and then he can use his real knack for staying hidden.
"It might be worth a shot, though I'd like to have more than just her. She'll kill me in my sleep."
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