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Amabelle Nightwood

District 12 - female

165 views · last seen in Panem
a character in “The Forgotten Games”, as played by Rhasslairiel

Description

Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Height/Weight: 5'7", 140lbs

Personality

Anything she wants. :)

Equipment

Knives, an old pistol, bow and arrow if she has to

So begins...

Amabelle Nightwood's Story

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood
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Slowly. Ever so slowly. Amabelle pulled back her sleeves and slipped under the fence surrounding District 12. She paused before she glanced left, right, and continued wriggling her thin frame under the chain link. More than once she had snagged her back on the sharp metal, littering her back with scars, but these weren’t the only scars she had, and who didn't have scars around here?

She had just been coming back from seeing him. It was an hour's journey from the fence to the halfway mark between District 11 and 12 through the dangerous forest, but it was worth it just to see him. She had clasped his hand tightly, brushed her lips against his, and wished him luck at the reaping. There was nothing either of them could say to each other to quiet the bubbling discomfort in their stomachs, and they had left each other solemnly.

Now, as Amabelle slipped under the fence, tears were beginning to gather in her eyes. She had no idea why. Why was she acting like this? She never cried. Something about reaping day just set her off this year. With a sigh, she stood, glanced around again, tucked away the locket that had slipped out from her collar, and began the long walk back to her home in the Seam to get dressed and ready to go to the square.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood
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INK

She had changed out of her pants and long white shirt, pulling on a white dress, spotted with red flowers, like blood on the snow covered ground. Her skin had a layer of grime, but she did her best to clean up and comb the tangles out of her hair. Turning her head over her shoulder, she examined the rest of her family's small home on the edge of the District.

It was just her father, older brother, and her now. Her mother had died during childbirth of what would have been her little sister, but neither of them made it. Too malnourished and thin. A painting hung on the wall, the only reminder of what her mother looked like besides her own memories. Amabelle straightened her dress uncomfortably, she hated dresses, and managed to adjust her thick curls in a less wild fashion, fastening an old tattered ribbon as a headband. Her hands shook, and as she reached down to put on the silver bracelet her mother had given her, the most expensive thing she owned, she found she could not quite get the clasp done. Her hands were shaking too bad. Suddenly, a pair of large, strong, callused hands reached in front of her, and slipped the bracelet over her wrist, closing it with firm fingers before the same fingers wrapped themselves around her shoulders. She shuddered at the touch before turning around, her eyes meeting those of her father hesitantly.

He had gone insane when her mother died, to say the least. He was no long fit to work in the mines, so he sat at home doing virtually nothing but carve small figurines and hope they can sell them in the square to passerby. When the loneliness became too much to bear for him, he began to visit Amabelle at night. She knew (or she thought), it was not his fault he was acting as such. She was not the kind of person to lay quiet for someone who is violating her, but the crazed look in her father's eyes, looking straight through her, set her quiet.

"Good luck," he whispered. Amabelle stared up at him, nodding her head and opening her mouth to thank him, willing him to take his fingers off of her shoulders.

"Father?" a deep voice said, the door swinging open and with a faint bump! hitting the door beside it. In the doorway stood Amabelle's older brother. Just turned 18, he had begun to work in the mines, but everyone had the day off. He carried a loaf of bread in his hand, and Amabelle knew that he had stolen it. They didn't have enough money for such a feast. "What are you doing? Take your hands off her... please." She knew that her brother wanted to protect her, but Amabelle was certain that Mit couldn't do much else than watch. Watch what their father was becoming, what he was turning her into. They, especially Mit, were too preoccupied with survival to pay attention to the trivial matters of what happens in the middle of the night, when everyone should be sleeping. "You're gonna be late, if you don't hurry, 'Belle." Mit said, reaching out his hand and taking hers, directing her out the door. "I'll see you when you get back, all right?" Amabelle nodded, suddenly overcome with a dry feeling in her throat, like eating dry dirt. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but thinking better of it she shook her head and turned on her heel, walking in a brisk pace toward the square, her boots leaving puffs of dirt behind her.

"Welcome to the 51st Hunger Games reaping, District 12! And may the odds, be ever in your favor." There was a long pause as the woman, yellow and orange from head to toe, tattoos littering her, thick makeup over her face, a true product of the Capitol stood on the stage, the hoards of children anxiously waiting in front of her. The square was packed, as usual. The children all stood around their friends, but Amabelle stood secluded, too sick feeling to stand near anyone she knew, especially those whom she would call a friend. Only one name rang over and over in her head. If anything happened, she had to make it. She had to be strong, for him.

"Ladies first," the woman's voice was sticky sweet, and Amabelle's breath caught in her throat. She could feel the air tense... the girls around her grasping their skirts hard, biting their lips. Amabelle tasted blood as she bit the inside of her cheek hard.

"Amabelle Nightwood!"

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton
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The square was far too crowded for his taste. This was his last year, and he had taken out hardly any tesserae since his family was small, and with them all working, they made enough money. He looked far older than he was, and his deep voice only contributed to that. He had had to grow up fast at a young age, and it seemed to be showing. The kids around him were shorter than him, most of them, and he easily had the most facial hair out of the boys there. Shrugging his shoulders, he leaned against a pole, crossing his arms in front of him. What was the point of worrying? There were far poorer people who had their names in there many more times than he did. And this was his last year. After now, he could go work in the coal mines and never have to attend another one of these ridiculous reapings.

When Amabelle's name was called, he felt his chest constrict just a little bit. He liked the girl. She had a spark and a fire to her, something that a lot of people in District 12 couldn't say, so humbled were they by the hunger and the abuse. But she had held onto it. Everyone knew that her father was touchin her, that he was crazy, but no one really did anything about it. They had their own problems right?

"And now onto the gentlemen!" the painted Capitol woman cried, and reached down into the round container, plucking a paper out after ruffling them around a little bit. She opened it up, held it out in front of her face. "Our male tribute from District 12--Joseph Arkton!"

What? It took him a few moments to come to his senses and stand straight, pushing himself off of the pole and staring up at the stage. "What?" he repeated and was pushed forward by someone's small, sturdy hands. He looked behind him to see a small, twelve year old girl, pressing her hands on him. "That's you... go... before you embarrass yourself," she said sympathetically. Such wisdom for someone so small. He sighed and began making his way to the stage, mind already moving into a plan of survival. He would do whatever it takes.

He took his place on the stage beside Amabelle, his back stiff, his head spinning, heart pounding. Where's Haymitch...? he wondered. Figured though, the man was always wasted out of his mind. It wouldn't be like him to actually show up to the reaping. This only made him more angry and he clenched his fists.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray
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INK

Nicholas knew this could easily be the last time he ever saw Amabelle, but that didn't change the speed that he ran with to get to her. The trip took hours, but he had only told her that a it took an hour to get to her. But it was well worth it either way.

He left his house silently, sneaking out with only his clothes, an axe, and the rope. He made his way through the town, making sure to stay behind the houses. Today was the only day of the year where they had no work, but that didn't mean people were out and about. Most were at home, praying their child wouldn't be picked, already starting their preparations, but not his family. He'd be lucky if his parents were even able to speak, but that wasn't a normal occasion.

As Nicholas reached the high fence, he grimaced at the loud hum of the sparking top part of the fence, preventing you from climbing it, and the foundation under neath it, preventing someone from getting under. He sighed, and pulled out the rope, making sure no one was watching. It wasn't a secret that he left the district sometimes though. People had seen him before, but because of his kindness to everyone, they knew not to tell anyone. Punishment was bad in district 11, and the sentence would most certainly be a long, slow death to him, and his family.

Nicholas took the rope out from his jacket pocket, swinging the looped end up, hooking it on a thick branch. Then, he started pulling himself up, using his arm strength. He pulled himself up to the branch, and put his stomach on, swinging his legs up and shimmying himself closer to the trunk, making sure not to fall. He arrived at the trunk, and made his way down a few branches after grabbing the rope and putting it back in his pocket.

The grass on the ground bellow him provided a soft landing for his feet as he jumped. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, a smile coming to his face as he started running, a fast light jogging pace, towards the meeting place of his and Amabelle's.


Their meeting was brief, and filled with lot of holding, and few words, and directly after, he made his way back to his district, knowing he didn't have much time until the reaping. He made his way back over the fence, being seen by no one yet again, and sprinted to his house, already out of breath from the treck to Amabelle.

His sister, Mel, was already washed, her hair still dripping wet, and she was only wearing a robe. He gave her a hug quickly, kissing the top of her head and asking where his brothers were. In total, there were 6 kids. 5 boys, and 1 girl. "They are bathing. Except James. He refuses to come inside," Rosy said, ringing the water from her hair with her frail hands. James was the middle boy, 14 years old, and he always was trying to be an adult. Nicholas nodded his head, realeasing his sister and going to the back of the shack house.

James was sitting in the dirt, staring off into the distance. Nicholas walked to him, putting his arm around his brother and picking him up before he could protest. "You've got to get ready for the big day," Nicholas said, a slightly sarcastic tone to his voice as he dusted some dirt off his brothers shoulders. James shook his head, saying he wouldn't go. Nicholas sighed, and instead of talking it out with him, he picked him up and put him over his shoulder, bringing him into the cabin, leaving James kicking.

He dropped him on the ground, arriving inside just in time to see his other three brothers walk from the kitchen, each with a towel around their waist and using the two spare ones to twirl up and hit each other with. How they could be having fun on such a horrid day, was way past his thoughts. He snatched the towels out of their hands, taking one for himself and handing the other to James.

"On a scale of one to ten, how dirty is the water?" Nicholas asked. "Thirty eight!" His brother Max said, a chuckle escaping his lips, but instantly stopping from the deathstare Nicholas gave him. "Heat up the water," He said to James, pushing him out of the room. He had too many siblings, and being the oldest was hard, especially when he was the provider.

Nicholas turned to Rosy, seeing her sitting there with her eyes wide and curious. He walked to the cabinet and grabbed the only clothes in the bottom drawer, the nice clothes. There were clothes for his parents, although they always needed help, Rosy helping their mother and Nicholas and the boys helping their father. He grabbed both dresses and handed them to Rosy, shooing her off to go wake their mother and dress her. Then he grabbed the boys clothes. On top were his, and at the sight of them, he froze a little.

They had been his older brother, Jack's, but he had been a tribute a few years ago and died during the games. Next were his old ones, for Greg, the next brother. The next ones were Greg's old ones, and so on and so on. He handed them out to his brothers, watched as they changed, and saw James run into the room, cleaned and ready to change. He tosses him his clothes, and went into the kitchen.

James had filled up the tub (large bucket thing) with clean, warm water for him. Nicholas stripped and went into the water, starting to scrub dirt off his skin and hair. He made sure to go quick, knowing there was not a lot of time until the reaping, and he exited and got dressed. He entered the main room again, and saw everyone dressed, Greg helping Rosy.

Nicholas sighed, and picked up his youngest brother Tom, who was only 5. He handed him to his mom, who reluctantly took him, not quite sure what was going on.

The family made their way to the town square, splitting up into their age groups.Nicholas stayed close to the rope keeping him apart from Greg, keeping eye contact with him as it began. The girl from the district was called, someone who he knew pretty well, and silence re entered the square.

"And for the boy," the capitol made escort said, reaching his hand into the bowl and selecting another name.

"Gregory Bray!"

Greg's face went fail, his hands starting to shake as he took a small step towards the stage, but something held him back. It was Nicholas's hand on his shoulder. Greg looked questioningly at him, then he understood what the hand meant and started shaking his head, words barely forming in his mouth."No- you-you can't," he whispered, meaning to say it louder but unable. Nicholas nodded his head, then turned toward the stage. " I volunteer." He said, making his way toward the stage and avoiding the eyes of the other citizens.

Most of the crowd was silent, but as Nicholas reached the stage, there was a scream from the crowd. His mother. She was crying, clutching to Tom and his father, but the outburst was not to be tolerated by the peace keepers, and he knew that. It hurt his that she would be beaten and punished once again, and that was his last thought as he made it onto stage.

((Sorry it's long... I got really into it.))

Setting

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton
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INK

Joseph and Amabelle stood together on the stage as the children were herded away by the peacekeepers. She could hear her brother yelling. Or was it just her imagination? No. She could see him sprinting toward the stage before he got caught in the stomach by one of the Peacekeepers. They told him he'd be allowed to see Amabelle during our hour of goodbyes.

Amabelle didn't remember how she made it to the room, or how she forced herself to listen to what her brother had to say, the advice he gave her. Their father stood behind him and, before they left, touched her face very lightly before turning on his heel and walking out the door. No one else had the heart to come see her. Her hands shook, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes. But she had to be strong. She had to show the people behind the cameras and in front of the television screen that she has a fighting chance. Not to mention, Nicholas. She had to show him that she could make it . She needed sponsors if she had any chance of winning at all. But as she thought back to Joseph's thick frame, his muscles, his angry demeanor she began to think she didn't stand a chance.

She wiped her eyes on the hem of her dress standing up straight as she was lead out the front of the building and around to the train station. The cameras flashed, reporters yelled questions to her, but she said nothing. She looked right past them, and in the dim sunlight over the two tributes walking onto their train to death, a single tear fell.

"Don't talk to me, don't even look at me right now," Joseph snapped at her when she opened her mouth to say something, anything, to him. He turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Amabelle heard the faint sound of someone vomiting in another room. Haymitch. Ugh.

All of the tributes up until after this year were allowed on the same train, two cars for each District, one for sleeping and one for eating/discussion. After this year, however, there was to be no more sharing of train space. After the betrayal of the tributes to the Capitol. Amabelle stood by the window as they passed District 11, the train reaching the station behind their own Justice Building. She stared out the window, praying for just once glimpse of him. They hadn't seen the other reapings on television yet. But maybe he'd seen hers on the television and came to give her a look. Just one look before she went to die.

It was at that moment that she recognized his walk, as he boarded the train, the cameras all around. She shook her head, it couldn't be. No. No way...

((No worries, I loved it. Sorry mine was so short. I wanted to get to the train so the characters can interact.))

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray
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Nicholas was pushed quickly into the justice building, unable to fight back because of the shock. He was going to the games. He was leaving his family and following in Jack's footsteps, probably going to die the same way.

But his thoughts were mainly on his family. He supported them completely, getting money from work, doing other things to get food. He was the only reason they survived. Greg was the next oldest. No way he could take care of the family, he could barely take care of himself. If they starve, I'll kill myself, he thought, then realizing he would probably be dead before that happened.

And what about Amabelle? They relied on each other emotionally, spilling their troubles on each other's backs and happy to have them to help make them happy again. Would she survive without him? Because he certainly wouldn't survive without her. They had clicked instantly since they first met, and life had been so simple, so sweet between them. Now that was gone.

The peace keepers shoved him into the justice building, slamming the doors behind him, as another pair who were already stationed inside, grabbed him by the arms, throwing him into yet another room.

When they finally arrived, it seemed like it had been forever since the reaping, but it had only been about an hour. When they did come, it was only Greg and Rosy. Rosy was still in her dress, her shiny black shoes scuffed from running either home or to here, and her hair was getting frizzy, pieces falling out of the sloppy updo. Greg had un done his tie, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, and rolling up his pants legs and removing his shoes. Yeah, they had definitely run here.

As soon as they entered, Nicholas ran to the door, embracing them both in a huge bear hug. "Where's everyone else?" He asked, kissing the top of Rosy's head. "Th-they tried to take mom away so dad protected her. Then- I don't know, but they got away with only a few whips I think," Rosy sputtered out, looking at Nicholas's eyes.

The meeting was too short. After their hug, the peace keepers banged on the door, announcing a last twenty seconds. They each took turns for embracing Nicholas, first Rosy than Greg. They each had a message for him. When Rosy hugged him, she whispered, "You much try to win. You are smart and you know how things work. Win it and come back home." Her voice was pleading, upset evident through it. Gregs message was different. "You know I can't do it for long. I mean, I'll try, you can bet your ass I'll try, but I'm not as good as you. I don't have your looks, your will, your heart that makes you need to do whatever it takes. I mean, I'll get a job,and I'll get James one too. Up in the highest points, the best paying, and we'll work over time if that's what it takes, but unless you come home, we're all dead."

Nicholas opened his mouth to reply, but Greg shut him down, giving him a look as the peace keepers entered, towaing them away. Rosy started to cry, screaming as they dragged her. "I love you!" And just like that, the door closed, and all Nicholas was left to hear was the scream of each of his siblings as the peace keepers smacked them with their bats.


After another hour, two more peace keepers entered the room, once again grabbing his arms to lead him. At first, he tried to resit by punching out on the sides, but to no prevail, and he stopped before they had even reached the door. They pushed through the door, to the train. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to look up at the capitol made train, but when he did, what he saw made him sick.

There was Amabelle, sitting in the district 12 train, looking out at him. Crap, he thought, his face paling as he was forcefully shoved into the train.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray
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INK

Amabelle was ushered into her lavish room, told by the painted Capitol woman who she now knew as Deni, that dinner would be in a few hours with the other Districts and she had the next few hours to do whatever she wanted while everyone else rested. She changed into the only things she could find in her closet that were practical, a pair of black pants, dark green tight fitting shirt, and a black vest that hugged her curves. She tucked her bracelet in her pocket, that she had been able to keep as a District Token to keep it from dangling, and exited her room.

Amabelle immediately rushed to the door of the car that connected her car to his, but found it locked. Why was it locked? Since when did the Districts want to talk to each other in the first place. She bashed her fist against the glass as hard as she could, willing it to break. She just wanted to get into the other car. None of the people that were in her car were around, and she crouched low, pulling a pin out of her hair and beginning to work quickly on the locks. She glanced this way and that as she kept trying. The train began to chug away from District 11, and she could feel the ground rattling beneath her.

Finally! The lock came loose and she slid open the door. Looking down, she swallowed at the view of the ground, speeding below her. But just as she, out of curiosity, slipped her foot down, a force field stopped her. She held out her hands and realized it was the same on either side. To prevent tributes from killing each other, she supposed. She peeked in the window of the hallway of the District 11 compartment, seeing both Nicholas and what she assumed was the other tribute being shown to their rooms. She ducked her head to the side when their Capitol escort glanced her way, but once she was brave enough, she looked again, hoping to get Nicholas's attention. She needed to talk to him. She only hoped that he needed to talk to her. Whom had they gone to when things got too scary for either of them? Each other. Who did Amabelle send a Mockingjay to with a short song to tell him that she was safe, that she could meet him, or with another song where she needed him? And who sent her messages in return? Her number one fear at the moment was not losing her life, or losing the Hunger Games at all, but losing him. She couldn't let that happen.

Ducking back down, she began to work on the lock to this door as well, as soon as Nicholas's escort was gone. She pulled District 12's door shut behind her, and slowly crept into the hallway to his door, and knocked on the door, five times, in their tune that they sent with the birds to each other, willing him to open it. Now that she was outside the door, though, she found she didn't know what she was going to say to him.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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INK

Diana raced home, she was so late. On the up side she was pretty clean so when she got home she merely pulled her dress on over the clothes she was already wearing and sat down to brush her hair. Jace came into the room closely followed by their father, they each shared smiles and headed out to the square. Diana held Jace's hand tightly, he was eleven this year, she wasn’t going to lose him. It was the same as usual and she was hardly paying attention, lost in her own thoughts.
"Diana Merrygold."
Diana looked up to her name immediately, she'd been called. Suddenly she was shocked her legs could hold her up. Was this really happening? She began to move forward, knowing the protocal but she didn't get very far. Jace was latched onto her arm, and was staring up at her fiercly. A look that clearly said, 'You’re not going'. She tugged harder, trying to push him off before the Peacekeepers got involved. Her father reached forwards and pulled Jace off, holding onto the wriggling child as Diana finally made her way to the stage. She forced a smile onto her face, the games wouldn't change who she was, and Diana Merrygold smiled. The boy was called up and she had to focus on keeping her smile in place. Of course it would be kind Nickolas Bray with his five siblings. She knew him, she'd caught him going outside a number of times, not that she had much room to talk. They were escorted into the Justice building and within moments Jace was storming in, looking furious with everything.
"Hey," Diana said gently, "Quit that, or you’re going to scare everyone into believing you’re a Career."
"You can’t go!" He yelled, again latching himself to her arm, "I'll come with you. I can be your token!"
"I don't think they allow that," Diana replied. She looked up at her dad. This must be hard for him, losing mother and now her. They hugged tightly, kissed, said their farewells, and discussed how they could easily continue to get by. Then they were being escorted away and she was taken onto the train. She watched Nickolas closely, as she walked behind him. So she noticed when he looked over into the District 12 train. That was the girl, but she wasn't supposed to know that. She looked away from the window quickly. On the train she didn't know what to do with herself and she merely sat down and nibbled on a piece of cake. Then she remembered her promise that the games wouldn’t change her and she loaded up two plates, putting one down on a table in front of Nickolas.
"We have to keep our strength up," She said, gesturing to the plate, "No point letting this food go to waste. Besides, you'll get to talk to her at training." She added without thinking. She'd followed him once, but she wasn't supposed to know. What were the chances he hadn't noticed?

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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INK

Nicholas listened to the capitol person, still not quite sure if it was a boy or girl, but leaning towards boy. He was explaining how the train worked, talking to him as if he was a child, which he obviously was not. As the escort finished, Nicholas found himself looking out the door and saw Diana Merrygold.

He had seen her earlier, at the reaping, but it hadn't really registered that it was her. They hadn't really been close friends in the growing up years, but they had always gone to the same school, had many classes together, and some times sat together during lunch, but they had never been real friends, their interests being so different.

"We have to keep our strength up," he heard her say, placing a plate in front of him as he sat down. "No point letting this food go to waste. Besides, you'll get to talk to her at training." He glanced back to the door, hearing their special knock, and bit his lip. "Sorry I don't like cake. Thanks." He gave her a sweet smile, then turned to the door, opening it and grabbing Amabelle's arm.

He swiftly dragged her into his personal room and locked the door behind them, pulling her in for a tight embrace. "Why are you here?" He muttered out, thinking about how neither of them would be safe now that they were in the games. "Why are you a tribute? You shouldn't be." He dropped the embrace, beginning to pace the small compartment.

"You weren't suposed to come. You were suposed to say back in the seam, safe, and away from all of this." He said, not in an angry way, but certainly not pleased. He looked as if he might punch the wall or burst out into tears any second.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray
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INK

Before she had a chance to open her mouth to say something, Amabelle was pulled into Nicholas's personal room and immediately into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling him to her as tightly as she could.

"Why am I here?" she responded in a croak, "I'm here for the same reason you are, I suppose. Because our names were pulled out of a glass ball and now we've been sent to die." she said, matter of factly, her voice cracking. She could hear the strain in his voice, though, and stepped forward as he let go of her, holding his hand tightly in hers, lending him her strength. "I'm not going to lie to you and pretend that everything is going to be all right. But we're going to do everything we can to keep you alive, understand?" She had decided the moment she stepped onto the train that she was going to die. There was no way she could win this. "You're gonna make it out of this." she kissed his cheek.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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Diana watched as Nicholas and the girl fled to his private room, probably best. The Capitol escort came forward and she gave him a smile.
"Nicholas has gone to his room for a little while, it's probably best to leave him and let the shock wear off," she lied smoothly. After he agreed she stopped listening to him, but he said something about going for a lie down himself, then he was gone. Now she was bored, getting up she went to investigate the doors. As she thought, they were locked at one side and the door the District 12 tribute came through wasn't. She'd probably picked the lock. Well, she hadn't relocked them. Curiously Diana wandered back into the District 12 part. There should be a boy in here somewhere, he may not be very accommodating, she would be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Still she moved through the train easily, inspecting every little thing to see if it was different to her carriage and nibbling on one of their pieces of bread. After she'd looked around here maybe she'd try getting into the District 10 carriage, had other tributes every tried this? Still, she was pretty safe, tributes weren't allowed to fight before the arena, but not everyone followed that rule.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Bridget Grace
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((Sorry Rhasslairiel, I was returning from holiday and had like 8 plaine rides.))

Nicholas's head snapped around to face Amabelle. "What are you, crazy?" He pushed her back again, not really roughly, but obviously mad. "Why would we keep me alive? Go back so I can take care of my family, and die a slave to them?" His voice got softer, and he stepped closer to her, taking her hands in his and kissing them. "We're sending you home. For your brother, for you. You're gunna go back, and one day get married. " He kept his eyes locked with hers, thinking about what that meant, and it gave him a new type of strength.

He would do everything in his power to keep her alive. Even if it meant dying himself.


________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Bridget skipped around the district 10 train cart, waiting for the boy of her district to arrive. Where was he? Was he allowed to see his family? Why didn't she get the chance? Bridget shook her head, plopping herself into a chair and took a sigh, looking out the windows at the passing by world. It then dawned on her that she was going to die. And she knew it.

Worst of all, she accepted it. Because not only was she not a fighter, she wasn't a killer. She may be stony and cold, but killing was something she would not be able to do. No matter how hard she tried, and she knew it.

((P.S. Akjadestar, I LOVE Rhiannon's face claim haha))

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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((No worries.))

"Why would you send me back?" she shot back at him, hissing in pain as he pushed her and she ran into the dresser against the wall, "So I can go back to getting violated by my father, and let my brother stand around and do nothing. They don't meed me. No one back home needs me. You have a family. A family that loves you. A family that needs you. No one needs me." a tear leaked out of her eye and she furiously wiped it away. There would be no tears. "If you keep me alive, you die, and I can't live with that for one single day." she said, her voice hoarse as he picked up her hands.

"Nicholas, please..." she turned to pleading but suddenly, a thought dawned on her. "What if..." she mumbled, "Nicholas what if it's no mistake we're here?" she looked up at him and met his eyes, "What if they knew? About us? And made sure we would be tributes, to make an example of us?"

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Joseph gave a tiny smile, taking the flower from her hand and putting it into his mouth. It was sweet, and coated his mouth with a thick substance. He gathered up saliva in his mouth, swallowing the last of it down as it stuck to his throat.
"You trying to fatten me up so I'm easy to kill?" It was supposed to be a joke, and he chuckled a little bit at it, but he worried that she would be offended. But what was the point of lying? They could pretend to be friends, for a little while, and that's fine, but at the end of it, they were all going to die. All but one.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray
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((OH MY GOSH IS THAT THE PLOT TWIST? EACH PERSON WAS CHOSEN SPECIALLY? THAT'S DEEP))

Nicholas opened eyes wide at that thought, then shook it off. "I just can't afford to think like that." He backed up, softly pulling her with him and away from the dresser. "You wouldn't have to live with your father. You could leave, you could even move to the capitol. My family- Gregory can take care of them. Not like my parents have much longer anyways." He muttered the last part, not really meaning to say it aloud.

He pulled Amabelle even closer, wrapping his arms around her. "We can't just let them do that. We have to do something." He paused his speech to think. "We shouldn't let them know we know each other. That might make us targets."

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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((What... the fuck... Sorry all. I posted like two days ago and I guess it didn't post...? I dunno. I haven't gotten a chance to check til now because the new quarter has started at college, so, sorry again!!!))
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((Yeah, that's part of it, the other part is in this post. :D))

"I will never, ever move to the capitol to become something like a slave to that horrid President Snow," she said roughly, even the simple thought of her moving to the Capitol and painting herself up like a class a freak made her feel sick. "My father can't live without me... I can't live without you," Amabelle said firmly, but gave up on the subject. They would just have to see what happened, she guessed. But for now, she didn't want to go on through these petty arguments over whose life was more important to preserve.

"It'll make us targets," she replied, "OR, it'll make people afraid, or want to join us." she lifted an eyebrow, nodding her head a few times. "I don't want to hide anymore, Nicholas. Our entire childhood of being friends, and now I love you..." she kissed his cheek, "If these are our last days together. Either one or both of us are going to die in that arena. If we have to be separated--" her voice cracked and she wiped one of her eyes, "I want to spend--" she lost it again, and looked down, before taking a deep, deep breath. She opened her mouth to start again, but she suddenly froze, staring off into space.

"Nicholas..." she said absently, "Nicholas, what if we don't have to die?" she said, turning her eyes to look at his face. "What if we can make it out...? Alive?"

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A friend... an ally. Joseph ran his hand through his hair, before his face breaking into the first smile that had appeared since his name had been called during the reaping. "You want to be an ally with me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Really?" He didn't really have friends back home. He went to school, went to work, and went home to see his family. But outside of that he was kind of like a loaner.

"No, no," he said, "I don't want you to leave." He shoved the rest of the cake into his mouth, before walking over and holding out his big hand for her to shake, "Partners?" he asked. Maybe even he could get Amabelle to join them, he'd always liked that girl, even though he didn't know her very well.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Bridget Grace Character Portrait: Ian Harding
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Bridget looked at Ian, plopping herself down into a chair at the table centered in the room. She glanced around quickly. Silent. He had remained silent. Obviously, he doesn't want to talk, she thought, but even as she thought that, a new thought came to ehr. But maybe we all need to. We are upset, confused, and worst of all, preparing to die. Yeah, we need to talk.

"Did you hear the accent our escort has?" She gave a slight smile. "Pretty funny huh?"

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Nicholas's eyes became large as he thought about what Amabelle had said, but quickly he shut the thought down. "It's never like that. Their has to be a winner. How do you expect us to stay alive? And no," a sad frown came to his face," we can't risk making ourselves targets. Okay?" He raised his eyebrows for an understanding nod from her.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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But, of course, nothing was that easy with Amabelle. She rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "Fine," she said, almost sounding angry. "I'm going to find a way to fix this, with or without your help." she said after a long pause. The shock of the fact that she was here was beginning to wear off and she was in danger of losing herself to her emotions, which put her in a very unstable state. She started to walk toward the door. "If you don't want to help me, fine," she said. Outbursts like this were not uncommon for Amabelle, her temper was short, and she knew that Nicholas knew that.

"You're so hell-bent on dying? This doesn't have to be like this anymore. We can do something about it. I know there's something we can do." Amabelle reached her hand out and yanked the door open, "I'll see you at dinner," before slipping through the door and making her way over to the District 12 car, slamming the door behind her.

What she saw made her jump in surprise. She didn't expect to see anyone in there.

"Oh, hello Joseph," she said, not awkwardly, but warily. She looked at the girl in the room with him. "And you are?" she asked in the most friendly way she could.

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"Well, I dunno," he answered as he dropped her hand. He thought she was very charming, far more socially inept than him, and she was not bad on the eyes. "There aren't a lot of victors from District 12." He continued to answer her question, "Well, we have dinner tonight. I think we should be there by tomorrow sometime. I think. Our prep teams and stylists are coming in to meet us in the morning, or am I wrong?" their Capitol escort hadn't told them the schedule yet. He figured that was a discussion for dinner.

He glanced up in alarm when Amabelle came storming in. "What's got you so hyped up?" he asked her, trying to be a bit more friendly to her. He looked at Diana questioningly, as if asking her if it would be all right for him to add her to their group. So far, he knew, though, that if it came down to the two girls and himself, he would win. It was a shame to put it that way, but it was true. He just might make it out of this after all.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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"Hi, I'm Diana, from District 11," Diana offered, slightly wary of the girl, who looked kind of pissed off, "You ok? Is Nicholas being all self-sacrificial? I heard he can be like that, from some other girls, but only if it's someone really important to him. Like his siblings. Don't stay pissed off to long ok? It's just the way he is, he means well, probably. I don't actually know him that well. I'm rambling aren't I? I'll shut up now."
She clamped her mouth shut, but gave Joseph a small nod when she noticed his look. She didn't mind, more people was good, and from the two people she'd met who knew this girl it seemed like she'd be pretty nice. Of course you couldn't always judge people by the company they kept. She also wasn't sure how accommodating she'd be, maybe she should leave. The constant state of unease was not something she wanted to get used to.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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Amabelle's face immediately changed from angry to as welcoming as she could make it. She resisted her urge to tell the girl that she probably knew him better than this girl did, but she didn't say anything, because that would have been rude. When she noticed the look Joseph gave her, he knew all about her temper from school, she understood that as a sign to shut up and be nice. "I'm Amabelle," she said, giving a firm handshake, "Nice to meet you. And no, it's nothing, just... well it's been hard on everyone." she lied smoothly and gave a smile. She listened to Diana mention rambling, and immediately shook her head. "You're gonna need a lot more confidence than that." she said and winked her eye. "Don't worry about it. We don't judge."

She flickered her eyes from Diana's face to Joseph's face as Diana nodded to him. They were keeping something from her. Maybe she should just leave... "Well it was nice meeting you, see you at--"

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"Amabelle," Joseph' deep, strong voice cut her off. "Would you like to be our ally? In the arena?" He watched as Amabelle's face went from surprised to thoughtful and, finally, her face broke into a smile. "I'd love to," she said.

Joseph gave a sigh of relief, for more than one reason. One, he was glad she was joining. She wasn't so bad, again, he knew he'd reminded himself about that ten times by now, and even more often as he had heard her temper outbursts and loud mouth in school. More people were good anyways. Two, if she had found out they were in an alliance and didn't decide to join, that might be dangerous for him and Diana.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Bridget Grace Character Portrait: Ian Harding
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Bridget would have smiled, had she been an average, emotion full girl, but, emotions are weakness, so she simply nodded her head. "Seriously. And I don't think she says any one syllable words. Always drags them out for a few seconds." She gave a slight laugh. Honestly, I don't know how they get anything done.

The accents were rediculous, but they fit so well. Their snobby, peppy attitudes had to be accompanied by something at least as crazy. And as if that was not enough, they always seemed to be wearing enough clothes to cover a few families. Or wearing enough cosmetics to keep a building from falling down. Or even spending enough on surgeries to have kept a family or two well fed for years with all necessary needs.

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Nicholas's face changed from hope, to a blank, emotionless expression. "I'm going to find a way to fix this, with or without your help."He heard her saying, understanding her tone immediately, but it was too late. The girl was about to lose her emotions. "You're so hell-bent on dying? This doesn't have to be like this anymore. We can do something about it. I know there's something we can do." He watched Amabelle reach towards the door, getting in a few last words before shutting it. "I'll see you at dinner," and he watched her walk out.

For a second, he just stod still, shocked. Amabelle had a short temper, and he knew that better than anyone, but never had her temper been directed at him. She had always been mad about other things, and come to him for help. He knew how to make her happier, how to calm her, but not when she was mad at him. What was he suposed to door? Nicholas smacked the door open, just in time to see Amabelle enter the district 12 compartment.

"Crap," he mumbled under his voice, getting angry himself. He punched the wall, hard as he could, and groaned. If he wanted, he could follow Amabelle into the district 12 compartment, but he knew she wouldn't like that. We have to make up, he thought. We wont survive the games without each other.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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Diana smiled, this was going well. Plus, it was nice to finally know Amabelle's name. It was nice to know she was going to have some help in the arena that wasn't from Careers, which, if she'd been desperate, she may have tried. She'd been telling the truth when she said they were scary though, they were raised to kill people after all.
"So, I'm thinking I'm going to look over the Reaping's," She said suddenly, becoming slightly more serious, "It'd be nice to know something about the people we're up against before we get there." She headed towards the door but didn't leave yet.
"See you guys latter," She said hesitantly, she kind of wanted to ask if there was anything she should tell Nicholas but the smart part of her said not to get involved.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Spark Nix Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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Diana smiled back at Nicholas, until she noticed the clock on the other side of the wall.
"Well, maybe after the dinner," She said turning to look at the door to her room with slight horror, "We wouldn't want to miss that now would we? I can't believe I have to wear their clothes." She grumbled the last part under her breathe, heading towards the door already. She was careful to shut the door behind her, and was immediately grateful, as when she open the cupboard her jaw nearly hit the floor. Why did they have so many clothes? Why had they given her so many clothes? Why were they basically all dresses?
For a moment she just stared grumpily at the rows of dresses before pulling herself together. If she was going to get back to Jace she needed to look good. Thankfully the dresses were easy to move through. She pushed through a number of brightly coloured dresses that hurt her eyes if she looked at them too long and pulled out a few different ones. They ranged from green to blue. The first thing she did was remove all the revealing ones, severely lessening her choice. Eventually she chose an emeral green one with a simple design that was light and flowed over her legs. She pulled a pair of shorts on as well, simply because it made her more comfortable. She organised her hair so that it was out of her face but still pretty loose and showy. She didn't go anywhere near the makeup, she'd never liked the stuff.
Organised she left her room and decided to wait for Nicholas. She still needed to get used to her dress anyway, and her shoes which she actually quite liked. They were a nice shade of brown, with a little bit of heel and did up with ribbons tied up her legs. She liked them, but they were still odd because she was used to much more stable shoes.
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Spark was dresses in a Capitol tux. He didn't like it, it was stiff and uncomfortable. He added his belt though, he wasn't sure what would be made of that but he wasn't about to leave it behind. Besides that, his Reaping toy was still in the pouch attached to it and that in itself was comforting. He'd still seen nothing of the female tribute, whoever she was-he probably should have paid more attention-so he headed off without her. The cameras were on him almost immediately and, amazingly, he got through it pretty calmly. They were fairly basic questions. He imagined it'd be worse at the actual interview, that's when they'd ask him the personal questions, that's the one he had to be ready for. One of the people commented on his belt, and, lost in the questions as he was, he answered with an easy smile.
"A reminder of why I need to get home. I have to give the tools back sometime right?" He got a few laughs from the camera crew before they moved on. It was a good thing they did, he was fighting the urge to start pulling the cameras apart like he had a number of other things back in his compartment. He sat himself in one of the closest seats, without even thinking about the other two tributes in the room.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Spark Nix Character Portrait: Bridget Grace Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Gemstone Roseling Character Portrait: Ian Harding
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"Not at all," replied Ian, "Isn't that the point of this half of the games? Oh, we should get ready for dinner. If you want to stand out better start now." He headed towards his room, turning to her just before he closed the door.
"I'm going to change, I don't mind if we go to dinner together or not, you can decide," He said before moving into his room. He wasn't one for words, he was only going to wear a simple outfit anyway. He had the right build to get away with the 'strong silent type', so he'd use that to his advantage.
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Gem finished of his outfit by pulling on a pair of gloves and tucking his rose into his shirt. At the very least he knew how to dress excellently, the light brown leather fit him perfectly, maybe he'd even get on with his stylist. He entered the District Dinner car without any hesitation, receiving the expected ambush of cameras and microphones. He smiled lightly, not appearing over excited. One final question, how did he feel about being able to visit the Capitol? Asked by a female reporter.
"Well," he replied, pulling another rose apparently from thin air, "If everyone there is as beautiful as you, I see no reason for it to be anything but the best time of my life."
Oh, swoon, He thought non-committedly as the ditzy woman blinked and clutched the rose. They were so easy to lie to, surely that wasn't good for the supposed heads of their society. Oh well, not his problem. He'd given her a real rose, unlike his own, which was a fake made by District 1. He'd decided that would be his token from home, but he'd always been good at manipulating people, it was just that much easier with women if there were flowers involved. He looked over the table at his current company. He hadn't actually watched the Reaping’s yet, but he had matched faces to districts. So, it was currently himself, both from 12 and the boy from 3. He sat towards the head of the table, putting himself closer to the boy from 3 than the two from 12.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Spark Nix Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Gemstone Roseling Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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Diana was getting more uncomfortable the more she thought about what she was going to do. To put is simply, she had no idea. Still, when Nicholas re-entered the room her usual smile graced her face with hardly any effort.
"I'm not really sure," She told him honestly, "Isn't your mentor supposed to help us with that? But I'm trying not to overthink it, it makes me nervous and fidgety. So I'm afraid I may not be much help in finding an angle for you, but you’re a nice guy. Every one back home likes you, I'm sure you'll think of something." She wasn't fond of lying most of the time, and she was being honest about the people back home. The only time she ever heard a word against him was from the guys who were jealous of him, they were actually pretty entertaining to listen to.
"C'mon, I'm sure it'll be fine," she told him with a comforting smile, "Just smile and pretend like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Anyway want to head down together?"
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Spark sat uncomfortably paring at the other tributes. He didn't know where they came from, everyone had changed into Capitol clothes. Still, the two who were here when he arrived seemed to know each other. They were probably from the same district, and the boy who'd arrived after him seemed far too comfortable in the flashy clothes, not to mention his odd accessory. Probably District 1, maybe, he had no clue. What was he meant to do here? Why hadn't he watched the Reaping's? Oh yeah, he was too busy dismantling and repairing every electronic thing he could get his hands on. He was going to have to curb that habit.

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Character Portrait: Amabelle Nightwood Character Portrait: Nicholas Bray Character Portrait: Joseph Arkton Character Portrait: Diana Merrygold
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Amabelle looked up as Nicholas walked in, watched him, and she folded her hands on her lap. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in each person as best she could, but she had never been good at learning people's faces and name in big groups. She gave up, and began taking each person in as best she could, learning each of their faces as best she could, but gave up on trying to learn their names. She met eyes with Nicholas once, and almost froze rigid in her seat. Quickly, she looked down at the bowl that an Avox had placed in front of her with soup in it. She was starving, but she didn't really have a stomach for any food right now. Her hands were shaking, but the rest of her sat as still as she could. Amabelle glanced over at Joseph. He certainly didn't seem to be finding an issue in looking laid back, as usual. She wondered if he was worried. Even with the alliance that they had, she knew that only one came out. Only one was going to make it through. While they all played house and pretended to be friends, they were all secretly plotting to kill each other. She tried to look intimidating, and with the last remnants of her temper from earlier did make her look rather angry. She guessed she knew what she was going for.

She had a fiery tongue and a snappy demeanor. She wasn't mean, but she was definitely something of a firecracker. She looked up, and continued to examine the room. Amabelle crossed one leg over the other, and rested her elbow on her knee. She tapped her red painted fingernails on her cheek, and tried to look as confident and composed as possible.

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Joseph, on the other hand, just looked passive. He leaned back in his seat, and picked at his teeth with a toothpick. He was used to looking handsome and laid back, as that was what he did best. He looked over to Amabelle, who he caught looking at her. He winked at her and reached out to pat her leg lightly, before leaning back in his seat again. The food in front of him looked good, and smelled even better, but he didn't eat it. He waited for all of the district tributes to sit down. There was probably going to be some kind of speech, and then they were going to be left to their conversation and meal. When he saw Diana, he smiled at her. She pulled off the little interview flawlessly, or so he thought, and he gave her a little encouraging nod if she looked his way.

But inside, he was plotting. He was sizing everyone up, noting their weaknesses, their strengths, their demeanor. Inside his head, he was figuring out the best way to kill them.