How odd this girl is.
Isn't she from 8?
She is? Then why is she like this?
Like how? Don't you see it? The monster hidden in the deep?
Well this might be fun.
(I know, not the type of title you expect for a Hunger Games fic, but I couldn't hold myse...
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Bera looked at the girl that approached her; district... 7 was it?
She did a side nod, asking what she wanted with that since she didn't speak it.
"Hi, name's Dawn."
"And mine is Snow." She rolled her eyes.
"I will call you that."
"... Bera, in that case, asshat."
"Nice to meet you."
"Look fuck off if you wanna talk, I am occupied." She said, trying to copy the example of knots tied up in front of her; the only one she could successfully make for now was a sort of sliding knot for a noose... It was practical if she wanted to hang herself, which was not currently part of the plan.
"Oh please, I wanna be an ally; I don't plan on dying."
At least this girl seemed to be on the same wavelength as Bera. James was perpetually nervous, the careers were cocky, but this girl just wanted to survive like her, and she could see it.
"And why me?"
"You are joking here, right? That knee was perfect, but think about it: you painted a target on your back, and 1 has been glaring at you all day."
"That's what she gets for being an ass," Bera said, thinking. "I don't give a damn if you survive the bloodbath; that will be your job, and if we get split, then you are on your own." She simply said.
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"District 11 seriously?" Bera scoffed, sitting crisscrossed on her bed while James sat on the ground with his hands pressed into the ground between his straight out legs.
"He seemed nice."
"We can't make allies because they are nice. We need people that could offer us an edge!" She snapped a bit, grabbing her face. "For fuck's sake am I the only one actually working to survive?"
"Come on Bera."
"Make good choices James." She sighed as she stood up and off the bed. "Because your mistakes will be what bring you down."
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Bera wandered through the training area alone, thinking her choices over.
There were only a few tributes she spoke too outside of James... There was district 7, district 3 and actually 4.
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She knows she needs allies but she'd trust that district 11 kid before she trusted 4 with her life because 4 might not be the most beloved career but it is still one, and the offer he made her, 'ditch them all and lets team up', doesn't inspire trust.
She needs to make her choice and fast, needing to work out something and even ask her mentors to do something.
She sighed, they were not restricted, every nook and cranie was filled with cameras and they are always observed , they'd intervene if they don't like what she does anyway.
She picked up a weird knife, the handle was smaller then the blade and it was only made of metal but it was supposed to be great at throwing and flying straight.
She tossed it in the air and grabbed it a few time, looking up at the observation bay where the gamemakers would watch from, mutter and plan what they'd throw at the tributes.
Senica Crane or something like that was the name of the head gamemaker, his style was awful, she'd resigned all of the Capitol's design trends if she could, she'd even die in peace if she could but she can't so she'll live off angrily.
She lifted her hand and threw.
Shtak!
The sound was loud and sharp, hitting in the middle on the backrest of the chair at the head of the table in the viewing bay but she knew, if he was sat there, she'd have hit bullseye.
She looked up at the clapping, the languid bored clapping of someone that saw this done many times before.
She looked up to the right, even higher then the bay, there was a balcony, a view point where the mentors that could stomach watching, so the careers, could come watch their tributes train. In the day they seemed to be a window to keep them from bothering the tributes but it seemed like they were nowhere to be seen since she was hearing it.
She frowned at the smile she saw, so oddly happy with that hit of bitter in it, the blood pouring out of it still fresh in her mind.
She watched the mentor in silence. District 2 had not been a bother, the usual glare and air of superiority but they didn't interact with her so this was the first time, even tho it was their mentor.
Bera swallowed, her throat dry, even in such plain clothes as a long sleeved black turtle neck and high waisted dark green pants from what she could see, the mentor still look menacing and regal... This... This is how people should dress, simple and yet in a way that elevates their looks.
She needed to admit, even 1 and 2s stylists were shit, it was Capitol fashion and that could be shat on and it would look between then it does usually... But this mentor's year was quite the outlier, Enobaria could rock whatever they had put her in. Bera had even said as much, having gotten weirded out looks from the people back home. She worked in textile, she can say when someone looks good no?
Even if they are close in age, Bera 15 and Enobaria 18, there were such a deep chasm between them. Be it between their district, their current position or the fact she is a tribute and she is a mentor... But it was that slow methodical and bored clap that made her feel that way... And she hated it.
She turned to face her, blocking the tip of her left foot behind the heel of her right, holding up her hands at shoulder level before behind one behind her back and the others hand put on her chest as she bowed.
