ACT I, CHAPTER FIVE ❛there will come soft rains❜ content: drug use (morphling), general angst
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The silence inside the train car is so overbearing that it seems to grate against Madaket's skin the longer she sits there. No words have been said since Luxa left the dining room in search of the two unlucky mentors that were tasked with preparing them for slaughter. The only noise comes from the faint whir of the magnetic belt underneath the train, leading its doomed passengers toward Panem's Capitol.
She tries to focus on the opulence of the train car in hopes to quell the awkwardness. Her district partner is trembling like a dead leaf on a tree branch, hands planted firmly in his lap. In his dining chair, he looks about the same size as a doll and about as fragile as one, too. The chair is made for adults, and it easily dwarfs him. He is out of it, eyes glazed over and tongue running against his teeth as he thinks very hard about something. She knows that he's a million miles away, and so she doesn't spare him a second glance.
The drops of glass hanging from the chandelier above them chime every once in a while as the track hits a bend. The table is oak wood, sturdy, and clearly well-made. Atop several small buffet tables adorned with purple cloths are pastries and small snacks, stacked on silver platters. The cushion on the chair underneath Madaket is made of velvet, and she runs her hands over it to ground herself. This place is just the beginning of the luxury the Capitol has to offer, Madaket knows.
Shortly after an hour passed inside the Justice Building and all the guests were escorted out, Madaket and her district partner were led to a car which then drove them to the train station. There, they were harked by reporters with flashing cameras. She is sure that she looked like a complete disaster in every image taken—what with her blotchy cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and tear-stained dress. She would immediately be written off as weak. She find she doesn't mind the label all that much. The Capitol people aren't wrong. She has never held a blade except to chop vegetables.
She knows that now she's been given a minute of silence, she should be coming up with a strategy. By sunrise, she'll be in the Capitol and meeting the other tributes. She should at least think of a draft. Something, anything, to give her a better shot at success. A thousand thoughts run through her head, experiences from watching past Games in town square. The only ones that she can remember clearly were the past three years, which doesn't do much good considering only Careers have won recently. Madaket is not a Career, clearly, and therefore the victors' strategies won't do her any good.
Her district partner's voice makes her almost seize up in shock. She had grown so used to the silence that his timid question practically slices through her.
"How many times was your name in?" he asks.
Madaket looks at him in the face for the first time since standing on stage with him. His teary brown eyes tell her that he's been going through the same mental process that she is. His black hair has been messed up, giving Madaket the impression of a startled alley cat.
