𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 | hunger games ✓

chapter 8

━━･❪ 🌸 ❫ ･━━

Morning rolled around too quickly for Daphne's liking, despite the nightmare she'd had of Caelum and her dancing under the pale moonlight. She'd turned away from his beautiful face for a moment, and when she'd looked back, there had been a knife protruding from his sternum, his dead eyes staring straight. Blood had covered her hands, dripping down her arms and splashing onto the floor.

She'd woken up in a cold sweat, taking a moment to recollect herself. She noticed a glass of water by her bedside that hadn't been there when she fell asleep last night, and she had no recollection of asking for one. Maybe one of the Avoxes pitied her.

Daphne hadn't had the energy last night to explore her penthouse of a room before she collapsed onto the unnaturally plush bed, dressed in the silk pajamas she'd found hanging in her closet last night.

After returning from the Banquet, Theia and Iskra had escorted them to the tenth floor of the Tribute Tower. Every floor was designed like a house; with separate rooms for the tributes, mentors and stylists and places for dining and relaxing. Except this was bigger, more luxurious than any house in District Ten.

In Daphne's room alone, she had her own private bathroom with an even fancier shower than the one on the train. There was a personal food dispenser, where all one had to do was vaguely mutter something they were craving and it appears. It was the same thing with the closet; there were a few outfits already present, but all you had to do was type in whatever item of clothing you wanted and there it was.

Daphne trotted downstairs after putting on a gray blouse and some trousers, only to find everyone already up and halfway into breakfast.

"'Morning, sleepyhead," Theron greeted her, flicking a piece of cinnamon toast from Caelum's plate and watching it bounce off the side of Daphne's face. Azalea giggled into her milk.

"Hey, I was going to eat that," Caelum pouted, forking a hunk of potato into his mouth. Iskra rolled her eyes, clearly fed up with all of them.

They spent the better part of the meal discussing strategies. Daphne began to form a tentative plan in her head to survive the bloodbath, since she at least wanted to get past the first night. She could get her hands on some knives–or make them, if she had to–and maybe then she would stand a sliver of a chance.

"Listen, this is your first day of training," Theia said after a bit. She looked at Daphne and Caelum specifically. "This is pretty much common sense, but don't head straight to your preferred weapons. Keep the other tributes wondering what your strengths are." She dug her fork into an omelet.

"Learn how to tie a knot, catch prey, climb a tree. Try a variety of weapons, you never know what the cornucopia will supply. Remember that one year where there were only maces to beat each other to death with?"

"Pay attention to other tributes' strengths as well." Iskra added in her usual low monotone. "You may have the smarts to know not to flaunt your talents, but I can assure you that others will not."

Daphne began to wonder if she'd ever have a peaceful meal again in her short life.

She found herself soon down in the Training Center, standing in a rigid circle with the other tributes. It felt strangely crowded, but then again, the room had been designed only to hold twenty-four tributes. Now, there were forty-eight.

Everybody, including Daphne, wore a gray tank top with black, geometric designs along the sides that pair well with the tight-fitting but stretchy pants. District numbers were pasted on the back of the tank tops, making it painstakingly clear who was who.