ＷＩＴＳ | ＭＡＲＶＥＬ ＨＵＮＧＥＲ ＧＡＭＥＳ ✅

ｆｉｖｅ

"Hello?" Despite how soft the tone is, Rybbon still jumps in her seat. Looking over her shoulder, she sees three different people watching her: her district partner, an older man, and an older woman. Looking at the woman first, Rye can tell she's a bit unstable by the way she fidgets with something in her hand and how her eyes can never stay on one specific thing for long. Well that and the small, incomprehensible phrases slipping from her slim lips, Rye wonders why she's here. Then her eyes move to the male, who's skin color reminds her of copper wire, has a look of wisdom all over his features. It may be due to the spectacles that he pushes up higher onto the bridge of his nose, or how composed he is, but he seems bright. "Come here." He waves Rye over with an open hand, his eyes following her as she gets up from the comfy seat to sit down at the table. Looking down at it, Rye swears the table so shiny she can see her reflection in it.

"Hey." Rye looks up, finding herself sitting across from her district partner. Her brows furrow the slightest bit, trying to remember his name. It was something Nelson. Once her head begins to ache, though, she gives up wondering, seeing as there is no reason to stress over something so minute. "Are you okay?" Her brows raise at the question.

"What do you mean?"

"Your cheek is really red. Like you fell or something." His words sink into her while pain slowly rises above her skin, allowing her to feel a stinging, almost burning sensation on her cheek. She takes a moment to form words in her mouth, finding that her brain has decided to short-circuit once more.

"I think...I think a peacekeeper struck me." She pauses a moment. "I don't really know," she concludes, meeting his eyes once more. All he does is give a simple nod, his eyes looking away when he spots something on the table, eyes widening in a dramatic fashion. Rybbon follows his line of sight, discovering what has him all surprised: a large array of food sits in front of them. Rye didn't know what each one was, but she knew that all of it looked better than any food she has ever seen in her life. She could only spot one type of food from her district, and it was the bread; it was small enough to where she could hold three of them in her petite hand. They were also square-shaped, which always confused her, but she never questioned it. "Can we eat it?" Her words come out softly, eyes looking up towards the two adults. They glance at each other, a hint of confusion in their eyes before nodding.

Both tributes place an ample amount of food on their platter. Rye sees her district partner going for what seems to be the sweets and the delectable assortment of food, as she went for meatier dishes, wanting to know if it tasted better than the jerky at home. And yes, it did taste better, an almost silent moan escaping her shut lips. Her eyes stay on her plate for some time, as is the boy's before the silence is broken.

"Do either of you have any specific strengths?" Rybbon looks up, swallowing a mouthful of food before giving the man her complete attention. She knows she has seen both him and the woman from somewhere, but nowhere specific, however.

"What are your names?" Rybbon finally asks, looking between the two for a moment.

"Beetee. Beetee Latimer." He brings his arm up and over the assortment of food. She meets him in the center, grabbing his hand and shaking it softly. "This is Wiress Plummer," he introduces the woman to his left, who continues to fumble with something in her hands beneath the table.

"Rybbon Fyrnsby." She feels the calluses on his fingers before he pulls away, moving to shake the boy's hands, which he does.

"Chase Nelson." The name seems to make something go off in her head, the faintest of smiles forming on her lips. She bites her bottom lip, knowing it's not the right time to speak about it. Instead, she places the thought aside, listening as he tries to list off his strengths. "I've worked on a bunch of different types of tech stuff, but nothing that would probably help me in the arena."

"I'm guessing you weren't one of the Buruts," Rybbon declares, which he shakes his head at.

"Brutes?" The four turn to the voice at the back of the room, discovering the Capitol woman walking in. Rye watches a door slides shut behind her, making her wonder where she came from. "Brutes sound like my type of men." Her heels stop echoing on the wooden flooring when she stands at the end of the table. Her fingers wrap around the edge of it, allowing Rybbon to get a glimpse of her long nails, each painted a shiny silver and embedded with a singular yet large beautiful diamond.

"That's not-" Rye closes her mouth after a moment, deciding it'd be best to not to say something that could insult the woman. Instead, she tries her best to educate her. "Buruts are the men who carry the large equipment from factory to factory. They also carry the products to the trucks to shipped off," she explains, only for the woman to exclaim, "Oh! That still sounds like my kind of man." Rye tries her best not to let out an audible groan but allows herself to roll her eyes at the woman instead.

"And this is Adema Bibelot," Beetee greets her, a tight-lipped smile on his face. "So-" He clears his throat, grabbing the tributes' attention, "do you have any strengths, Rybbon?" She takes a bit to think about it, wondering if she did have anything to her advantage. Her intelligence is somewhat of an advantage, but it doesn't do much against 180 pounds of muscle.

"I have good memorization skills." She clears her throat, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. How could that help her? Memorizing tributes faces as they kill her? Think Rye think! "I know how to use a knife pretty well and can throw a punch. Other than that I don't have much to offer." She shrugs before taking a bite out of her food, finding it to have gotten a bit cold. She swallows it roughly, letting out a sigh soon after. "We're going to die in the bloodbath, huh?" It's more of a statement rather than a question, looking up to eye her two mentors. Neither gives a response, Wiress mumbling who knows what as Beetee has a foggy look, eyes dropping down to look at his plate.

"Oh, have hope!" Her attention is turned to Adema, who's smile looks more forced than genuine. She raises a brow at the woman, a scoff passing her lips.

"We have no muscle or weaponry experience." The smile on her lips falters. "This arena will be both our battlefield and our gravesite." The chair is pushed against the floor, creating an indescribable sound as Rybbon stands from the table, walking off to somewhere in the train.