The Eleventh Hunger Games~ A Mags Fanfic

Chapter Two: The Capitol

Chapter Two

The Capitol

 "You are going to love what we have in store for you at the Capitol!" Basia leads us through a door in the luxurious train cart, where platters of sugar coated pastries rest untouched on a mahogany table. "Ah- we should be arriving in about four hours from now." In just four short hours I will be on my way to the Capitol, where my face, among twenty-three others, will be plastered on screens, flags, signs, and whatever else the Capitol uses as advertising. I take a shaky breath and sit down on one the pillowed couches in front of the table of galore. "Your mentor should be here shortly. Until then, feel free to make yourself at home." Basia gives us a golden smile and departs, leaving just Lorem and I. Alone. In a room together. Is it possible to get killed even before the Games start? Because right now, my opposing tribute is wearing the face of a tiger hunting down his prey. 

I've never really known Lorem. Being two years apart, we were never in any classes, so my knowledge of him is very minimal. From what I already know, he helps harvest oysters with his older brother. But other than that, he is as foreign as the Capitol.

"What are you staring at?" Lorem spits. Startled, I quickly turn away and stare at my shoes. Idiot. I think to myself. Good job, Mags. Making enemies on the first day. Finally, after ten minutes of rather awkward silence, the pair of glass doors smoothly slide apart, and in walks our mentor, District Four's winner of the Sixth Hunger Games. Winning had treated Theodore Wilmont well. Clearly he has been using his riches on the glorious food only found in the Capitol; a big pot belly protruding from his tweed jacket proof.

"Ah. You must be this year's tributes." He smirks, then plops down beside me, taking a pink frosted pastry from its shelf on the table.

"Weren't you at the reaping?"  Lorem, who was recently staring out the elegant window facing the ocean, now looks at him, wearing the same predatory expression as before. "Name's Lorem." He adds curtly.

"No, actually I wasn't. I had some business to attend to... and you, young lady? To who do I owe the pleasure to?" He takes a bite out of his pastry, revealing some sort of jelly inside.

 "Mags." I reply quietly, not looking up from my shoes.

 "What's that?" Bits of food spew out of his jelly decorated mouth. Disgusting. I wipe specks of chewed dessert off my face and lift my head to face him.

 "Mags." A little louder this time.

 "Well then. Let's get talking." Theodore rubs his hands together. He stares at us, expecting an answer. Obtaining no response, he tries again. "Well for starters, what are your strengths?" He glances at Lorem. "Surely a boy like you would have at least some strength." Lorem shrugs and returns to the window. How could he act so...calm about such a situation? Surely he doesn't have that much belief in himself to think that he will already be the winner. We haven't even seen the other tributes yet. After a moment's pause, he answers.

 "I'm good with a-" He turns to our mentor. "Wait. No. No way am I going to say anything that could help this little rat." With a glower, he juts his finger at me.

Theodore Wilmont sighs. "Alright. Fine. We'll start off with something more simple...how about fire. I'm assuming that at least at one point in the Games, heat will be needed. Do you know how to make a fire? Without the use of matchsticks and such, of course."

 "Isn't that what the training is for?" Lorem sneers. This guy just keeps getting worse and worse. With another sigh, Theodore sets down his half eaten jelly delight and brushes the crumbs off of his jacket.