ＷＩＴＳ | ＭＡＲＶＥＬ ＨＵＮＧＥＲ ＧＡＭＥＳ ✅

ｅｉｇｈｔ

The food Rybbon eats fills her stomach up with little effort, as her body has adapted to surviving off as little food as possible. So, she picks at the leftover food on her platter, pushing it gently across her plate like a child. It reminds her of how her brother used to pick at the jerky when he was younger. He hated the feel of it in his mouth, so he would always swallow it in the tiniest pieces, not bothering to savor that flavor.

"So-" Beetee clears his throat, gaining the tributes' attention, "tomorrow you will start training. And since neither one of you have very specific talents-" his face goes grim from his words, "try and learn as much as you can about at the survival stations. Fire-starting, trap making," he goes on, both Rybbon and Chase nodding silently at his advice. "And since both of you seem to have little to no muscle-" his words make both of the tributes look down at themselves, "no offense."

"Much taken, actually," Rye deadpans.

"Since neither of you are very muscular," he rephrases, "I recommend you both try to work on that as well. In the end, you will most likely survive solely on your intelligence." Turning her attention from the older man, Rye looks at Chase, both having similar feelings about the whole conversation.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," she says softly, standing up from her seat. She sees their eyes follow her, Wiress even going as far as stretching a hand out to her. It makes her pull back slightly, something Wiress seems to notice, as she pulls her hand away just a quick. Clearing her throat, Rye gives a simple "Goodnight" before leaving the dining room. Walking past the large pillars and accents of bright colors, Rybbon walks into the first room she sees, opening the door before allowing it to shut behind her.

She tries to take in her new surrounding, the room far too big for her. It's double the size of the apartment she shared with Cook, and she can see a bathroom connected to it. It's not the same. She doesn't have Cook. She doesn't have the thin mattress she slept on. She didn't have the grimy bathroom she shared with the rest of the floor. She didn't feel at home.

Allowing herself to take in a deep breath, she exhales heavily, doing her best to slow her erratic heart. She does it a few more times, but it does little to help. In actuality, it somehow increases her heart rate, her deep breaths forcibly becoming short pants. Her thoughts begin to smudge together, her bottom lip trembling as her eyesight grows fuzzy. Her feet drag across the floor, her hands waving around her in an almost comical fashion as she tries to grab onto something, anything to hold herself up. Her shins collide with something, her upper half falling forward. She falls onto the bed, her fingers instantly grabbing onto the soft fabric. Shutting her eyes tightly, she curls her body onto the bed, hiding her face in the sheets. Feeling something build in the back of her throat, she feels herself beginning to lose control, her body shaking and tensing without her knowledge.

"Go away. Go away," she cries softly, her hands going to her hair. It feels soft in her hands, but all she wants to do now is rip it from her scalp. She just wants to be in control of something. Anything. Because at this moment, her body has a mind of its own. "Stop it. S-Stop please," she begs. Hearing a quiet sob past her lips, she cups a hand over her mouth, trying her damnedest to shake away this feeling. But it just won't go. "Please. Please," she begs some more.

"Rye?" she hears someone call gently. Her shaking body tenses, instead jolting violently every few moments. Gradually, her eyes begin to open, but her eyesight is too blurry to see who's sitting on the bed beside her. How did she not hear them?

Wiping her eyes frantically, hoping to wipe away the redness in her eyes as well. "Sorry if I had bothered you," she starts, sniffling gently. "I'll try to be-" opening her eyes completely, she squints to see the person in front her, not believing who she's seeing. "Why are you here, Cook?" she questions, her voice hushed. "You'll get in trouble. Or killed!" she exclaims softly. However, her words falter when his hand cups her face. His hands are soft despite the harsh labor, and it makes her sigh gently, hiding her face in his small hand. "Why are you here, Cookie?" she asks softly, kissing his palm gently.

"I missed you," he shrugs. It makes her chuckle gently, looking up to the young boy.

"I missed you too. But you still shouldn't be here."

"I also wanted to let you know-" he starts, making her sit up, his hand dropping from her face, "you have to win, Rybbon." His words make her sigh gently, rolling her eyes.

"You know I can't, Cookie. It's dang near impossible," she says. Her hand goes out to reach him, only for him to pull away from her, making her pull back violently. "Cook..."

"Can you at least try?" he begs her, grabbing her hand gently. His thumb rubs against the back of her hand, warming her skin slowly. "Please, Rye. For me." She has to swallow a sigh, finding her feelings beginning to resurface. She rubs her eyes roughly, wiping away the tears that were starting to form.

"Yeah," Rybbon sniffles, forcing herself to look back at him. She sees the smallest smile form on his face "Yeah, I'll try. Just for you Cookie." His smile is still soft, but his eyes seem to be few shades lighter.

"Thank you." He let's go of her hand, instead cupping her face with both of his hands. The warmth makes her sigh gently, eyes closing instantly at the feeling.

"I love you, Cookie."

After a moment or two of silence she allows her eyes to flutter open, wondering why Cook didn't respond. But when she opens her eyes, no one is in front of her. Looking all around her bedroom, no one is around her. She is alone.

Rubbing her tired eyes with one hand and caressing her sore scalp with the other, she allows a sigh to escape her lip. "I'm already losing my mind," she sighs sleepily, letting her hands fall to her side.

As the lonely feeling begins to sink in once more, her heart beginning to speed up once again, she decides it would be best to take a shower. Climbing out of the bed, she nearly tumbles from how shaky her legs are. After a moment though, she is able to stand up, her steps small in case she loses feeling in her legs again. Walking into the bathroom, she spots a large shower taking up part of the room, the toilet and large sink cramped in beside it.

She's only seen a shower one time, and that was at the outdoor nursing center where she had to bring her father in after he received one too many blows to the head. However, since he was covered in blood and dirt from head to toe, they decided to make him stand under a showerhead. He stood on a small concrete slab, mud encircling it. He was told to yank a chain, making freezing cold water come from above. It made him scream out, his blood and dirt covering the concrete slab.

But this shower is completely different. It has patterns on the walls and floor made out of some sort of soft, smooth feeling concrete. And she doesn't have a singular shower head. When she steps into the shower, she sees three, each pointed to hit a different angle of her body. And in the center is a large knob to turn on the water.

Stepping out of the shower, she begins to take off her clothes. They were soft against her skin, as she had received them just after the chariot ride. But it wasn't as soft as she hoped. It felt weird against her, not used to how silky it felt against her body.

Standing in the shower once more, she grabs the knob gently, turning it until water sprays out the three shower heads. Her hair soaks up the water instantly, her body shivering as the water touches her skin. It's lukewarm at first, before gradually becoming hotter and hotter.

The water feels like it's melting Rybbon in the best way possible. She lets out a quiet moan, letting her head roll back. Brushing her fingers through her hair, she lets out a heavy yet content sigh, feeling almost at peace. Almost.

After sometime in the shower she turns off the water, the cool air making her shiver. Stepping out of the shower she shakes even more, needing a towel to cover herself. Looking beneath the sink she grabs a towel, drying her hair a bit before wrapping her body in it. She then goes into her room and opens the dressers, grabbing a silk shirt and pants and putting them on. It's still weird how soft it is against her skin. How it doesn't itch or pinch. It's weird.

Leaving her room and walking into the dining room, she sees everyone has gone their separate ways, only the servants left cleaning up what's left of dinner.

Her attention is drawn away by the servants when she hears a a soft yell. Looking over, she sees a terrace through the glass wall. Walking closer, she spots a shadow sitting near the edge, their body relaxing against one of the pillars. Sliding the glass doo, it opens softly, making little sound. Stepping out onto the terrace, Rye's feet make contact with the cool concrete, creating a pitter patter sound as she walks closer and closer to the figure near the edge, discovering it to be Chase, looking solemnly out into the Capitol city horizon.