DRESS, coriolanus snow

09, hippity hoppity

DRESS
( feeling sick. )
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CHARLOTTES SLEEP WAS interrupted when a phone call from Professor Satyria woke her. She'd encourage her to attend school that morning if she was up to it. Another mentor-tribute meeting had been scheduled with the idea of working their way toward the interviews, which would now be on a completely voluntary basis.

The sudden wake up call had led her to being rather dizzy as she continued her usual before school routine. She showered, put on her uniform and ate her medicine before she left the house. From behind her she could hear the scurry of footsteps and she turned around, to see her mother hurrying after her.

"Eat up," she smiled, shoving a brown paper bag into her daughters hand before going back in the house. Charlotte sighed, deciding to give it to Wovey whilst shoving it in her bookbag.

Later on at the Academy, as she looked down from the balcony into Heavensbee Hall, the empty chairs rattled her. She knew, in her mind that eight of the tributes were dead and one was on the run. Yet she had not envisioned how that would ripple though the pattern of the twenty-four little tables, leaving a jagged, disconcerting mess.

There were no tributes at all from Districts 1, 2, 6, or 9, and only one from ten. Most everyone who remained were injured and look unwell. As the mentors joined their assignees, the losses became even more pronounced. Six mentors were either dead or hospitalized, and those partnered with the tributes from 1 or 2 had no tributes, therefore no reason to show up. Livia Cardew had demanded for a new tribute to be pulled from the Districts, or to at least get Reaper — Clemensias tribute — but her wishes had not been accommodated.

When Charlotte took a seat across her, Wovey attempted a small smile. She smiled back, as a throaty cough came from her tribute. She looked at Wovey's ragged state, her clothes were stained with black burn marks, torn and had some residue of dried blood from her injuries. Charlotte looked around her before taking the paper bag out of her bag and sliding it across the small table, toward Wovey who immediately grabbed it and hid it underneath her shirt.

"Hey," she greeted. "How are you?"

"Okay," the little girl said. "And you? I saw you stuck underneath that pillar."

"I'll be alright," she replied. "How about we get a head start on this sheet. . . looks pretty interesting."

Wovey nodded and Charlotte started asking the questions presented on the paper. She didn't know what she'd expected, but she got to learn so much about Wovey's life before the Reaping. She was sure she had her mouth agape the whole time whilst she wrote things down, honestly happy to see the twinkle Wovey had in her eyes as she talked.

Charlotte couldn't help but realize that in some ways, the two were pretty similar. Wovey, too, was an only child, closer to her mother than her father, who worked all day. Eventually the two had reached the end of the questions, and with a few minutes remaining, Charlotte decided to discuss some strategies she had thought of.

"Well, in a day or two, you'll be having your interviews. I need you to charm the Capitol, get them to like you, just like you did with me," Charlotte stated.

"How do I do that?" Wovey asked. "And why?"

"Well, the more people like you, the more money they'll donate. I'll be able to send you food and water in the arena," Charlotte explained. "Just be yourself, talk about your life in the Districts, crack some jokes. Since you are one of the youngest names pulled, I'm sure you'll already have some automatic pity donations."

"Look, I'm not a fighter. I have no skills, I'll die in a day," Wovey said. Charlotte shook her head in refusal.

"You won't. The more you charm these people, the more money you get, the more food you'll get. You could outlive them," she said. "I believe in you, Wovey. You have to believe in you, too."