"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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Octavia stood at the edge of the training floor, her eyes scanning the expanse of the training room. Polished floors divided into key sections. On one side, the weapons area held racks of swords, daggers, spears, and axes, with dummies lined up for combat practice.
Nearby, the archery range featured bows, crossbows, and throwing knives, where tributes honed their aim at distant targets.
At the center, a brutal obstacle course tested agility and endurance, with ropes, walls, and beams that challenged even the most athletic. The survival station, quieter but vital, offered lessons in fire-starting, plant identification, and shelter-building.
In the far corner, padded mats marked the hand-to-hand combat area, where tributes sparred, practicing self-defense. The entire room buzzed with activity, each station designed to push the tributes toward one goal: survival.
Triss, her co-tribute, ambled over to where she stood in front of the weapons table with a grin, a handmade wooden dagger spinning clumsily in his hand.
"Think I could take someone down with this?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he awkwardly twirled the blade.
Octavia snorted, her lips twitching into a small smirk. "Not unless you plan on throwing it straight into your own foot," she teased, stepping forward she places her hands around his to adjust his grip.
"You're holding it too tight. Loosen up a bit, let it move with you."
Cheeks heating up slightly at their closeness, Triss shot her a tankful glance. "Yeah, o-okay."
As she stood back, watching Triss throw the dagger towards the dummy, the sneering voices of the District one tributes caught her attention.
Augustus Braun, his tall, muscled frame casting an imposing shadow, sneered loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.
"Look at her," he mocked, his tone dripping with disgust. "Bet she doesn't even know which end of that thing to throw."
Mirabella Gild, her sleek black hair catching the light, her pug nosed snout high in the air, smirked beside him. "She'll probably beg for her life like a scared little girl. Or maybe just cry and hope someone comes and takes pity on her."
Augustus laughed, his voice cold. "Lets just hope it's us that finds her first. It'll be fun to break her first."
Octavia's grip on the dagger tightened for just a second before she forced herself to relax. She wasn't going to let them rattle her.
Triss, however, wasn't as composed.
"You know," Triss said loudly, his voice carrying, "I'd be careful talking trash when you've nearly dropped your spear twice today." He shot them a bright goofy smile.
The girl's smirk faltered, but before she could reply, Octavia stepped forward and casually picked up a sword. The familiar weight settled in her hand, grounding her.
