FAILURE TO COMPLY ┃ f. odair

1.6 behind closed doors

Poet and Maisie. They were two names and two faces that Calypso could no longer wipe from her mind. One was almost a vision of herself from four years ago, innocent but stronger than given credit for, forced to grow up with danger lurking around every corner simply because she was associated with one of Snow's survivor's. The other was nearly a mystery, an unknown plucked from Eleven with a kind smile and strange optimism for the games, despite his lack of expectation for his own survival.

Calypso discovered, sitting alone in the dark on the apartment sofa with no one but ghosts to speak to, that the trio had one overarching similarity. It was something she hadn't wanted to admit at first, but was evident within her own mind now: they didn't want to die alone. For the time being, that seemed to be enough to justify their new alliance.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, only a faint orange glow illuminating the open plan apartment the District Five team had spent the last few days residing in. Training had passed faster than she'd expected, and everything had blurred together beneath the creeping fear of what was coming. Today was their individual assessments, and she still had no idea what she was going to do.

A soft creak alerted Calypso to someone else's presence. No other noise followed it, and it took her a moment to realise it hadn't just been her imagination. The once bright and loud Priya was a ghost haunting her now, always watching from afar but never coming too close. Not while others were watching.

But it was early, and they were alone.

"Good morning," Calypso dared to greet the woman. Priya's eyes flickered upward, then back down to the floor as she carried a tray of clean dishes towards the table. "Mom."

A visible cringe. A slight twitch of her eye and a downturn of her lips. Calypso felt a crack in her heart, but pushed on with the conversation. Even if they were being watched, she yearned to close the emotional and physical distance between them.

"I can help," she suggested. Priya shook her head, but her stubborn daughter was already on her feet and headed for the table. In silence, the pair laid out the pristine plates and glasses, reminiscent of how they'd done it in their own home years ago. "This is nice. Even if you can't speak, I know you think this is nice."

Calypso was met with only silence. Whatever unknown comfort she'd been expecting, clearly she wouldn't find it here. The mother she'd known those few years ago was gone. Only the voiceless avox remained. Silently, she wondered if she was simply scared of reaching out if she just didn't feel like a mother anymore. In her pocket, she flipped the silver coin Porter had given to her in between her fingers. It hadn't provided her with any kind of protection, but it made her feel loved. She was still loved.

-

Waiting for her name to be called already felt like she was waiting for her death. Calypso's fingers played nervously with the piece of thin rope between her fingers that she'd been given by Maisie. The girl had told her it was something she herself had been doing ever since first watching her brother enter the games, and it was strangely effective for calming her down, as if weaving the knots was helping her to untangle the threads of her mind.

Beside her, Payton's knee was bouncing up and down. It was annoying, but Calypso could hardly complain with how fast her hands were moving. Neither of them had spoken to each other much, because she'd made it clear that she preferred other tributes over him. But somehow, her pact to not kill had silently extended to him.

"Are you nervous?" he asked quietly. The waiting room outside the training centre was small, leaving hardly any opportunity to whisper messages without other tributes overhearing. She hardly wanted people to know she was afraid. Or maybe it was obvious anyway.