My fav number's 19 so... hehe
****
Eversince his name was pulled out of the glass bowl, Sirius hadn't slept for a full night. It's not like he slept well before, it just got worse.
The train felt empty. Aside the fact he was here with some girl he'd never spoken to, he was all alone. So there he was, tossing and turning in bed until the sun peeked through the windows.
He was already awake by the time a knock requests his presence in the dining car. Sirius wears the leather jacket hung in his wardrobe and head out. In the hall way, he bumps to the similarly unfortunate girl.
She was tall and menacing. Sirius hadn't heard her speak since their departure yesterday.
"Sirius Black."
"Marlene Mckinnon." Sirius nodds.
"I'm not going to protect you in the arena."
Straight forward. Sirius likes that. No room for false care between tributes. Even though they'd qualify as a Career Tribute, forging an alliance is as useful as a toothpick in the arena. They'll have to kill each other at some point anyways.
"Good." Sirius understands. "I would wish you good luck but I don't think I can offer much."
And that was the first time he'd seen Marlene smirk.
***
Remus had nothing from home aside from an old sweater. Looking around his room, the burning desire to kill grows.
Not the tributes, no. They're pawns to the Capitol just like he is. The President is who he'd love to slaughter in the arena. To behead him as if he was lumber from his district.
"Touch a single hair on me, I'll gut you with that tweezer." He growls at the stylists.
They drop their tools and back away, whimpering apologies. Remus sighs. They're pawns too.
"Make up is fine. But no waxing or tweezing." He says in a softer tone.
One of them swallow a gulp and offer him a tiny smile. They get to work immediately. Cleaning and changing his rough features into a fit Capital man. He looked like those rare toy dolls the market has.
When he sees himself in the mirror, he doesn't know what to think. Dorcas emerges from behind him in an equally ridiculous outfit.
"Well, I knew you'll be the pretty one out of the two of us." Remus chuckles.
The green, nature theme the Stylists were going for suited the girl nicely. Her brown hair had flowers from her crown, down to the tips. Dorcas rubs her arms.
"I just want to make it out alive." She whispers.
Remus nodds, patting the tiny space on her shoulder that wasn't covered in leaves. "I'll make sure you'll go home."
Dorcas shakes her head, shucking his hand off. "Don't promise me that. Don't promise me anything at all."
And she leaves the prep room. Remus understands. It would be better for them not to interact and form a deeper bond before the games. He'd rather not know her at all if he had the choice.
But she was his seatmate in school. Then the only few in their district brainy enough to engineer the lumber processing machinery. Though Remus ended up pulled in to the straining lumber cutting process, Dorcas had his back.
So he made a pact with their mentor. A promise that the mentor will do anything to bring her home.
Remus' name was called and he runs to get to his chariot on time.
