"Octavia Voss. Better known as The Siren...Capitol's 'It Girl,' the 'Party Girl.' The people there would kill just for a chance to spend an evening with her."
"So she's the Capitol's whore?"
"Easy, Tavia's more than just a face for Capitol entertain...
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After being escorted onto the train, the two tributes wandered around. There is a large table sitting at the center of one of the carts. Food decorated the length of it. Every meal they could ever want, as well as another table in the corner just filled with deserts. Chocolate covered fruit, mini cakes, pies, cookies, chocolate truffles.
In the blink of an eye Triss runs to the table to inhale his food as if he hasn't eaten a meal in weeks. Octavia would have laughed at the slight of the scrawny boy eating all the food if it wasn't for the fact that her world had come crashing down around her twice within an hour period.
"Oh, you have to try this!" Triss exclaimed, his voice bubbly with excitement as he held up a small bowl of whipped cream, his cheeks already stuffed with the fluffy dessert. "It's like eating a cloud!"
"Uh... I'm okay," Octavia replied, her arms crossed tightly over her stomach. Her discomfort was evident in the tightness of her jaw, but Triss didn't seem to notice—or care.
"Perfect! You found the food!" A chirpy voice cut through the moment as a woman with teal-colored hair appeared, clapping her hands together. Octavia assumed she must've come from the train car behind them, but she hadn't heard her approach.
"Sit, sit!" the woman insisted, motioning for them both to sit at the table.
"I'm Lotti Downer and I will be your escort!" she announced with a wide, sparkling smile that seemed a little too forced, even for Capitol standards.
"If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! I'm more than happy to help."
Triss, already fully absorbed in the food, didn't need any more encouragement. He plopped down in his seat, instantly grabbing a forkful of something unidentifiable but, apparently, delicious.
"Mmmf—this is amazing!" he mumbled, his mouth full as he gestured vaguely to the spread in front of them.
Meanwhile, Octavia hesitated, slowly sitting down but keeping her hands wrung tightly in her lap beneath the table. She glanced at the piles of food, her stomach twisting—not from hunger, but from the anxiety and heartbreak that gnawed at her from the inside out.
"So, are you our mentor too?" Triss asked, in between bites, his enthusiasm unflagging.
He leaned over to point at the basket of rolls in front of Octavia. "Oh, can you pass me some of those?"
Octavia looked at the bread with mild disinterest, then picked up a single roll. When she noticed Triss's eyes narrowing like a disappointed puppy, she sighed and rolled her eyes, shoving the whole basket toward him instead.
He grinned, already grabbing another roll and stuffing it into his mouth with cartoonish delight. The sight made her stomach twist again—not from hunger, but from a growing sense of discomfort. She couldn't understand how he was so carefree in all this.
