Saffron Lockhearst's Story

The Capitol train, filled with the twenty-four tributes from the twelve districts of Panem was flying at light speed towards the House that had been built especially for them. The rail-way line had again, only been created for the soul purpose of transporting the tributes to their new home; the last long journey that all but one of them were going to have. The train was built for the rich and the powerful, the stunning décor marvelling that of royal palaces and temples, but the atmosphere inside the cabins was entirely contrasting. The shuttle was eerily silent, as the tributes were getting themselves ready for their second main meal together. The first time that they had all met had been after the reaping, in the Capitol. This would now be the second time that all of them would be together in one room, free to talk about, and do, anything.

---

Saffron Lockhearst

Chug-a-chug-a, chug-a-chug-a, chug-a-chug-a.

The long haired brunette girl stared out of the window, the sound of the train flying along the tracks being the only audible noise from her room She was watching the large skyscrapers with tall domes and windows brightly lit up flash past – a whirlwind of electric lights. Saffron Lockhearst had never seen anything so beautiful, nor anything move so fast. Yes, she had been on the train before on her way from District Twelve, but there had been no lights, and the train had been powered by steam, not electricity. Her long, manicured finger nails dug into the wood panelling on the side of the train as her eyes danced, trying to trace the lines that the lights made before they disappeared, however futilely. The lights were too fast, and soon, the girl was pouting to herself. She wanted catch the lights and keep them in a ball forever, like the firefly Wyatt had once caught. It was so beautiful, yet, he wasn’t able to keep it forever.

Saffy moved away from the window when she realized that she had to start getting ready for the feast, and soon, she was humming a soft tune as she peeled off her travelling clothes, put them in the hamper in the side of the room, and then jumped into the shower. Warm showers were a rarity in District Twelve – most of the people didn’t even know what warm water felt like on their bare skin, so to be able to have different temperatures, powers and strange smelling shampoos and soaps around her was one of the brunette girl’s favourite things about the Capitol. Soon, she was stepping out of the shower smelling like strawberries and cream, drying her hair and applying a minimal amount of make-up. Her prep team had showed her how to use this thing called “mascara” and she liked the way it made her eyelashes longer. She also liked the thing called “lip-gloss” – it was shiny, glittery, and it made her lips stand out from the rest of her outfit. Then, she walked over to the wardrobe in her cabin, pulling out the outfit that her stylists had prepared for. She had asked to get ready and dressed on her own tonight, purely for her own privacy. It felt like ages since she had had any “alone” time. The girl had decided on a pretty striped dress with a pair of flat gladiator sandals, seeing as she didn’t feel all that comfortable walking in heels yet, with a few small bangles on her wrist, and her signature feather earring in her left ear.

Once she was certain she looked ready, Saffron left her room, the door of her cabin clicking behind her as she closed it. With only a few steps, she was standing outside Zyker’s cabin, and she tenderly knocked at the door. Even this small action caused little butterflies arise in her stomach, thinking about seeing him.

“Zy? Are you ready yet? I'm starving!”

---

Tyke Delfino

Tyke Delfino had been sitting in a lounge-like room on the train for what had seemed like hours now. Unlike the females, and the vain males on the train, the boy didn’t really care for his appearance tonight. He had thrown on a pair of black pants and a white t-shirt, with his signature leather jacket thrown over the top. He looked fair enough, and that was all right with him. Instead of staying in his room and primping himself with his prep team, Ty had decided to explore the train a little. His little adventure had taken him around the train, visiting the kitchen, where the food for their feast tonight had smelt delicious, the corridors of the cabins, the dining room itself, and then he had found this room.

Upon finding it, Ty had declared it to be the most beautiful room in the entire locomotive. The décor in here was different from the rest, the rich reds and browns of the rest of the train being replaced by bright blues and golds. Something about this room caught his attention, and soon, the boy was running back to his own cabin, grabbing his art supplies, and bringing them back. He had set up his sketch pencils and sketch pad on the table nearest the corner of the room, giving him a wide view of the design and layout. He began sketching it, his pencil taking swift strokes down the paper, his finger expertly smudging the lines to blend in together. Sketching for the boy was very therapeutic, and once he was in that zone, no-one could break him out of it.

Soon, hours had passed, and Tyke hadn’t even noticed. The finished drawing in front of him should have signified how long he had been sitting there, but it was the smells coming from the kitchen that had informed him of the time. However, instead of rushing to go and clean up his hands, and hide his work, the brunette boy took a few more minutes to check over his newest masterpiece, adding in any missing lines, and correcting any of the mistakes that he had made. Someone would call them when dinner was served, or at least, he hoped they would; but for now, he was just going to sit here and draw.

I find it an extremely out-of-body experience, the knowledge that I'm hurtling past outdoor objects at a speed which would (in any other contraption) be considered ludicrous and yet, surprisingly, I feel as though I sit still. The scenery explodes and implodes from view so quickly my eyes barely have time to focus before shifting to the next onslaught of foliage. This is frustrating and makes looking out of any window quite pointless. So I sit, confined to this tiny compartment. All the riches that can be fathomed and they choose to waste it by inventing trains that move so quickly one cannot enjoy the natural beauty of our world. The luxury that is wasted... If even the smallest amount of what they spend on their grand balls and dinners could be put towards the outlying districts! I've lamented on that too much though, and what good would another entry in this journal about the disparities of our world really do? Nothing. Just the hateful musings of a young man destined for doom.

Lor sighed and leaned back, away from his desk. He tucked the pencil he'd been using behind his ear and stretched, yawning. Against his better judgement he was thankful that the pencil existed, his left hand had finally stopped carrying the signs of his writing. In Nine he'd always had to use charcoal or ink on a stick, anything that would leave a mark on a page. His penmanship was better due to this crazy luxury, true, but it was the fact that his hand remained clean that he didn't mind. He glanced out the window out of habit and a new scowl crossed his face. He'd wanted to watch the country-side, see the sights, out of sheer curiosity. The damn train moved so fast you could barely keep yourself from creating a headache if you even tried to look outside for longer than a minute. Disgusted, he pulled the pencil from his ear and tossed it onto the desk. Rising, he shut the blinds. The light outside had been beginning to darken, and it occurred to Lor that the tribute's dinner would be starting soon. He pursed his lips and looked about his room. It was the last night he'd have a room completely to himself. Sitting on his bed, he let his shoulders sag as he stared hard at the floor, going over the past few days in his head.

Lor knew he'd killed his interview, was confident that he did, but so had many of the other tributes. He wondered briefly just how many sponsors there actually were and, guessing at a number, tried to divvy them up to different tributes. He felt confident that he had a fair chance, but fair didn't keep you alive. He knew that he'd have to keep up appearances and (no matter what) never let anyone know about his deeper feelings on the Capitol and most of Panem. He looked at his journal then. If the wrong person read it... He shook his head to stop his mind from thinking that way. It was his possession, his "trinket" as it were. No one would be allowed to read it, even in the event that he was killed right off. He'd made sure to bring a new journal with him, one that didn't mention any of his family's views, but he'd been writing in it since his first train ride to the Capitol in the first place. Many of his rants about the people in the Capitol and the Games in general had already been rehashed in the first couple of pages, and could be incriminatory if found under any other circumstances. As it was, Lor felt comfortable knowing that there wasn't much worse they could do to him, he'd already been sentenced to death.

Standing, he walked over to his desk and picked up the journal. Tying it closed he tucked it into the pouch he kept around his waist, under his shirt. From now on, it was where he'd always carry the journal. Then, moving over to his closet, he looked in. A suit bag with the word "Dinner" printed on it was in the front of a row of clothing that had been tailored for him. He took it out and unzipped it. Inside he found a charcoal suit that fit snugly, but comfortably, a pair of combat boots, and an undershirt. Confused, he checked the rest of the bag. No tie, no collared shirt. His brow wrinkled and he cocked his head slightly, hadn't Silver said that all suits must be worn with collared shirts? Then he noticed a note in one of the shoes. Grabbing it, he flicked it open. He smiled as he read the four words that were scrawled on the page in such a no-nonsense hand that there was no room for a question of who'd left it:

No shirt. More Masculine.

Once again struck by how grateful he was for his stylist, he finished dressing, messed wit his hair a bit, then stood back to take in the final product. Approvingly, he nodded, then moved the blinds to get a bearing on what time it was. It was late. Time to go. He took one last moment to compose himself, then stepped out into the hallway, turning towards the dining car.



Pip laughed boisterously as she burst from the dining car into the lounge car, a large piece of chocolate in her hand. She'd made sure to befriend the Avoxes as soon as possible, and so far had not been let down. Not only had she come to love the fact that they pretended to not listen to her (even though their silent gurgles indicated laughter at her jokes) but over the short amount of time the tributes had been on the car she'd already had 5 chocolate bars, 2 cookies, and at least a dozen fruits she didn't know the name of but was already addicted to. She plopped down onto a lush couch in the middle of the room and kicked her feet up over the back of it. Biting into the bittersweet dark chocolate again, a contented sigh bubbled it's way up and out of her system.

"Yes, this. This is defffffinitely the life!" She drawled quietly to no on in particular, seeing as no one was in the room with her. She lay there for a while, lounging. Half-sleeping and half awake as she relished in the chocolate bar, eating slowly. She finally finished it and lay, hands on her stomach for quite some time, staring at the ceiling. She was having such a good time already, and still nine months awaited! She drifted then, into a light slumber. She didn't rest for very long, though, because as her eyes had drifted closed her mind had drifted back to Nine and Lua. Jerking up-right she nearly toppled off the couch as the sadness washed over her. Lua... he'd been left behind. By Jesh and now her... And he knew that she'd do anything in her power to help the right person win, whoever that turned out to be. She felt the familiar tingle/burn in the upper portion of her nose, the warning sign that tears would soon follow.

Shaking her head, she smiled and rolled off the couch. Bouncing up to a standing position she stared at the door to the dining cart... "Hmmm do I want a donut?" Pip thought aloud, then noticed the clock hanging on the left wall of the train. "Aw! 5:30 already?" She stomped her small foot and pouted prettily, "Guess I'll wait then! It's almost dinner time..." Her eyes widening, she looked down at herself. "Woooopsie!" Giggling she took two steps backwards, then turned and began moving back towards the hallway where all the rooms were situated. Matt would have her head on a platter if she showed up to the televised dinner in her bright pink bath towel. Hurrying towards her door she nearly bumped into Saffron as was standing in front of one of the guy's doors. "Sorry!" She trilled over her shoulder, bouncing past, "Gotta get all hot and sexy for dinner tonight. You know how it goes!" Then she turned into her room.

Shutting the door behind her she went to work. She'd already successfully destroyed the room by creating different piles of "stuff" for lack of a better term when she'd first boarded the train. Really, she'd just been interested in what all the compartment could hold, so she'd gone through everything, the downfall being that Pip didn't have time nor want to put anything away herself. Thus, piles of clothing, shoes, books, things she'd never seen before were strewn across her floor and bed. Her desk was covered with all sorts of things she'd seen her stylists use on her hair and face and her bed was already torn to shreds because she'd jumped in immediately and wiggled around in it, reveling in how soft the sheets were. At the memory, she giddily tore her bathrobe off, revealing her nude body and slid into the bed again. Rolling around in the sheets she stretched and smiled, making a mental note of how wonderful this sensation would feel with another human body involved.

Catching sight of the clock on the wall Pip rolled her eyes. "6 already?" She mumbled impertinently. "Looks like I'm late, again!" She sighed, took a few more minutes to enjoy the sheets, then stood and began to get dressed for the dinner. She rummaged around in the dress pile until she found a powder blue soft thing that looked like it'd be pretty cute and still help her come off as one of the "young ones." Putting it on, she mussed with her hair, found some shoes in that pile, then knocked everything on her desk onto the floor in her mad search for lipstick to finish off her attire. Biting her lip she realized that she was now at least 15 minutes late for the dinner and decided that another couple minutes wouldn't hurt, so she ran over and snuggled up in her bed one more time, letting her hands run back and forth across the silk.



Magna blew the bangs out of her face as she lay on her back on the floor in the middle of her compartment, her hands linked across her stomach and her legs crossed. It had been a long few days and now began the longest nine months of her life for certain. She sat listening to the lack of sound the luxurious train made and stared at the ceiling. To her surprise, her eyes focused on a black dot in one of the ceiling corners. A spider? She could almost laugh at the absurdity, I didn't know the Capitol allowed things like... oh, wait. Standing, she grabbed the desk chair and moved it over. Stepping on it she moved closer to the 'spider' and rolled her eyes. Of course. The creature had all eight limbs and the abdomen of a spider, but instead of the multitude of eyes Magna had grown accustomed to seeing on normal spiders there was one, large, subtly glowing orb in their place. She smiled ferally into it then, "Hey President Argent! Gonna watch me change?" She quickly smooshed the tiny muttation with her bare hand. "Pathetic."

Jumping off the chair, she turned and looked at her room. After unceremoniously dumping her onto the train earlier they'd stationed a Peacekeeper outside of her cabin door. A little while ago he'd knocked on it to tell her they were moving at fast enough speeds that she was allowed to leave the room, but she chose not to. Not long after, she'd listened as his boots had clunked away, probably bored with guarding a girl who wouldn't try anything. She couldn't say that she would have done things differently in her interview had she known she'd spend her last couple days in the Capitol locking herself into her room to avoid Keeth's expectant and worried stares, it wasn't in her nature to lie, but she had pondered what more tact might have bought her. Shrugging it off, she opened her door curiously and looked out. She'd only seen Keeth when getting on the train and he'd given her a look that reeked of pity and remorse. Well, he could save that for another time. In the arena maybe. No... not even there. There won't be time for remorse there and it's going to be hard enough for Keeth to stay alive anyway. She pursed her lips as fire grew in her eyes, then, thinking better of it, breathed out and let the emotion go again. Turning, she wandered off to the left, unsure of what she'd find.

Some way down the cars of the train she'd passed a clothing car, (Ridiculous), what seemed to be a car for the nail things (Mani-cures? Pedi-cures?) that the Capitol so loved, and a car full of boxes. She became aware that she was heading towards the back of the train and decided to change direction and come back. She knew what these trains entailed. She thought back to what Mr. Diggett always used to say, something about the tiniest crack in the railway causing the train to derail... or explosions due to poorly manufactured engines. For a millisecond she was worried, then realized it didn't really matter and shrugged to herself, That'd be alright.

Magna returned to the car with all the living quarters and was moving toward her door, overly bored with the train already, when a giant pillow monster exploded from the door to her left. She sidestepped quickly as a reflex and stared at the pillows. Suddenly, from behind them a head popped out with disheveled hair and wide, terrified eyes. Keeth. You idiot. Pillows won't save you against a train explosion. She rolled her eyes and pushed a finger into one of the pillows. It gave way as if it were made of clouds.

She looked at him then with disinterested eyes, "You do realize that no one's allowed to kill you before we get into the arena, right?" She watched as the fear spread afresh over his face and squelched the tiny bud of remorse before it even began in her stomach. No time or need for emotions, she turned and moved into her room, listening as he scurried off down the hall with his cumbersome load.

Sitting on her bed, she looked out the window. Her eyes unfocused and she sat for a moment, just letting the world blur by her vision. She knew she'd have to get dressed soon, show up for the pomp and circumstance of the dinner, but it was the last thing she wanted to do. The knock on the door broke her from her trance on the landscape. "Miss Aerosta, I'm here to take you to dinner." It was that idiot Peacekeeper again. She didn't respond, just stood and started to de-robe.

"Miss...?" Another knock on the door, this time a little louder. Instead of a response, she locked the door. She knew he'd wait outside, it was his Capitol duty, but at least he'd know she was in there now instead of rattling her door every five seconds. Taking her time, she mustered the energy to get dressed and do her make up. If anything, she'd at least look pretty at the dinner. What was two hours in front of a camera compared to nine months anyway? Gritting her teeth, she opened her door and looked up at him. He smiled, she stared blankly, he turned, she followed after.

Solara Brinx

Don't throw up. Don't thr- Solara leaned against the toilet seat as she pulled her hair from her face. This was the result of nerves that had now started taking over her body. Her mind had been to so many places on the train ride since the Capitol that she now knew that this was the start of the end. Her mother seemed to be the only thing to upset her in her thoughts, so she tried to keep her mother's face a distant memory from here on out. As she seemed to throwing up the acid from her empty stomach, she pushed the bottom at the top to wash away the disgust. Breathe, Sol. Breathe. She was becoming a hot mess. She needed to get out of this room.

Peeling herself off the floor, Sol found herself looking into the mirror that now showed a girl that could easily be broken. Be strong. The phrase seemed to repeat itself several times silently until she spoke the words aloud. It only took a few minutes to fix the make-up that had taken her stylist hours to do, but she was thankful that Hiva wouldn't notice. Now time to grab the dress that was hanging on the back of the door, she hadn't even looked at the dress long enough to know if she liked it. She had began to trust her stylist Hiva a lot. so when she had finally saw her final look, she was more than pleased. You couldn't even tell that she'd been in the floor most of the night.

Pinching her cheeks to bring color back into her face, Solara grabbed the small purse that went with the outfit and headed to the door. Feeling the cold knob underneath her hand tensed a majority of her body until she final turned it, pulling it into her room. With the door open you could only see the other side of the hall, so until she stepped out she didn't realize that she wasn't alone. Saffron. She guess that the girl had to be waiting for her other half because she was clearing in front of one of the boy's rooms. This would be a mood bringer-upper.

Slamming the door closed behind her to make her presence known, Sol spoke up towards the District Twelve girl. "Let me guess. You want to get in a quick fuck before the cameras start rolling?" Approaching the girl was the easy part, but leaving the girl was definitely the harder of the two. Solara wanted to stay to hear the girl's response, but she could honestly not care what the twelve had to say to her. Brushing past Saffron, Sol leaned in to the girl's ear so only she could hear the words that came from her mouth. "Sweetheart, they're already on. Just ask Zyker how we found out." She gave the sound of a kiss at the end, departing from the hall. She threw up a hand as a farewell, showing a little respect at least.

Making it into the room that seemed to be the destination for the dinner, Solara found herself making a straight shot for a window view. She hadn't even bothered to look around the room for fellow tributes, but she did know that quiet a few Avoxes and chefs were hard at work. Stepping up into one of the chairs, Solara crossed her legs to get comfortable because she didn't know how long it'd be before one of her tribute friends came walking in. She was ready to get in the house because in moments like this she could just go outside and get some air. Instead, she was stuck looking out the window until she was saved by conversation.

---

Zyker Lintsy

Zyker had been in his attire for what seemed like hours now. Winque, his stylist, had been very precise with the look he was trying to give Zyker, so when he mentioned shaving his head, it went a little too far. Now that he stood in his room though, Zyker started liking the new do that was only given to him by command that he'd get more sponsors with an arena ready look.

Zyker rubbed his head back-and-forth feeling what was left. This is how the whole Capitol will now see me as. He shook his hand as he turned on the water, rinsing his face several times. "Time to socialize." He slipped on the most comfortable shoes he'd ever worn (which wasn't saying much for a twelve), taking a last glance at his look. He was more impressed that his stylist could manage to scrub off all the dirt that had been built up from years of living in twelve. Just as he reached for the doorknob, a knock came through the door. He took a step back, hearing her voice. Saffron was just on the other side of the door. He would have normally just welcomed in her, but things were different now.

Zyker returned to the mirror for one more look over to make sure that his new hairdo would be accepted by Saffron. She had always played with his hair, so now that it was all gone he wondered what she'd think. Opening the door to Saffron, he didn't give her time to respond because he just wrapped her up in his arms. "Saffy." He whispered into her hair before moving it aside, so he could plant a kiss on her forehead. "My fellow twelve. How are you today?" He joked as he wrapped his arm around her waist, guiding her in the direction of the dinner.

---

OOC: I didn't mean to tag Pip.

Some said it was easy to get caught up in the lore of the games but even in her youth Ashe had been horrified by the displays put on to honor the uprisings and to punish the districts. The Capitol residents were all safe gluttonous individuals. In her short time there, Ashe had seen more than enough of the prideful inhuman looking crowds. They worried about eating too much food, about the way their hair curled or laid flat. They worried about a scuff on a perfectly fine shoe or a blemish on their skin. Their thought process seemed perfectly tedious and only had her mood further darkened.

To have so many people worry about the pallor of her skin or the clothes she wore had her irritated. While her stylist was a relatively calm and collected young man, his mind didn’t worry the way hers did. When she frowned, he threatened to pin her lips into a smile. When she brushed him away he nearly clocked her. Yolo had no patience for her bitterness or the frizz her hair became after a night's rest. Yet in the days he’d spent dressing her and trying to make her care for the interviews he’d come to realize it was far more than a tart mood. Ashe didn’t like the luxury of it all. It made her jumpy to be seated in a train car with velvet and satin seat cushions, to look beyond glass that wasn’t dusted with dyes or industrial exhaust. It wasn’t her. It was foreign and alien instead.

The interview had made Ashe feel so far from herself. Yolo had been beyond ecstatic with her scores in the training room and following her flirtatiousness with the crowd he’d been grinning over her shoulder as he teased her short blond hair that morning. “You’re marvelous, keep up the act sourpuss,” he had encouraged her with a beaming smile. She was unnerved by his excitement and more than anything she hadn't believed him.

Recalling the nickname made her wince, closing her eyes as she remembered Yolo's words. Ashe sat close to the window and as the side of her face leaned into the glass she could only sigh with relief to have escaped the Capitol for now. She had dressed earlier in the outfit she’d been given for the feast. It was all arranged given that they would enter the house in the same clothes and be seen for the first time on camera. It was all to make yet another statement, as if there was one left to give.

Ashe couldn’t help but be contrite the more she thought about the costume she’d worn for the parade, the things she’d said to Caesar and more than anything the last words she’d had with her family members before being whisked away. With the exuberance of the tributes from two and four, the lovestruck girl from twelve and her male counterpart, Ashe knew she was disappearing into a crowd. Having been collected and pleasant during her interview, even as flirtatious as she had been, did her no good. The same act had been put on by half a dozen of the other girls. She had been nice and likeable but not enough to be memorable. There was no fact that stood out. She'd confessed to liking a boy who liked another boy. Ashe felt more like a fool than accomplished.

There was the girl who’d been escorted back to her seat by peacekeepers, the boy from eleven who liked the crier even. Scandals! And then the rest seemed very obsessed with the boy from two. They were unique characters, people you empathized with and yet wanted to win. She found herself lost to the charade and hating it all the while, trying to mask her fear with a smile that she had never worn.

Sourpuss.

She could just remember Jasper saying it, her brother looking up at her from the treetops as he balanced himself on a beam, reaching out for a bundle of hidden fishing spears and tools they used to scour the land for something more edible than the bitter porridge and hard tack brought in from the factories. Memories of his swollen body filled her mind, enough to make her bite the inside of her cheek to bring her back from the reverie.

With her family so beyond reach and her brother dead, she felt completely and utterly alone. The silence of the train compartment was compounded by the sound of muffled voices from the hall. She could hear the slam of a door and the click of another as some of the other tributes began to leave for the feast. Ashe pushed her lips and looked at a small clock on the wall opposite her, feeling her cheek off the glass to stand and smooth the folds of her dress, another black lace ensemble with a leather corset cinched around her waist to show off her thin body. Sighing she moved to exit the cabin, finding that Yossarian had left already. He didn’t seem to approve of what she thought of him. When he’d mounted their chariot dressed as she had been and as hairless as she was, the blond couldn’t help but laugh. “Serves you right all things considered,” she’d thought. Now whenever she saw him, remembering the slightly mortified look on his face when she’d noticed his shaved arms and legs, she couldn’t help but smirk much to his disdain. “I always have at least one enemy.”

As Ashe entered the hallway she scanned it attentively, finding two of the female tributes down the length of the railcar talking curtly before one turned away with a blown kiss to walk away. As she squinted to take them in, Ashe recognized the male and female tributes from District 12. The lovers, she thought bitterly. They had been memorable too, especially since they had gone first and she’d nearly cried at the thought of her friend dying. The more she looked at them, the more she felt her odds slipping. The girl was loved and the boy she liked was handsome. He wouldn't want you, Ashe chided herself in thought before turning her glance away.

I’d have no problem killing Yossarian, Ashe thought bitterly, moving to walk slowly in her heels across to the feast car where the others were congregating. Her frown was gone, replaced by a weak smile and determined eyes.

Saffron leaned on the wall outside Zyker's room, waiting for the handsome boy that she had fallen for over and over again to come out. She felt a small smile appear on her face as she thought about Zyker; how she always smiled when he there, how her skin tingled whenever he touched her, and just how happy he made her when he around around. She smiled softly at the bouncing red-head running through the corridor in a pink towel. However, the brunette girl was quickly snapped out of her little reverie of Zyker when a loud bang interrupted her thoughts. Her head snapped up from his resting position on the wall, and she followed the sound to see the girl from District Five leaving her room. Loudly. What was her name again? Oh yeah, Solara.

Saffy didn't like Solara - she hit on Zyker quite a lot, and she made her feel extremely uncomfortable. She crossed her arms across her chest as the stunning brunette girl made her way towards her, her hips swaying as she walked. There's just no need for that, is there? She's such an-- Before she could finished her thoughts however, the girl was speaking to her, shouting down the corridor of cabins, again jolting her out of her own little dream. She bit her lip as she registered what Solara was saying, turning her eyes to the floor instead of looking at her. She decided not to answer, to ignore the snide comments, keeping her eyes downcast to the floor.

Ignoring the bump on her shoulder as well, Saffron's face contorted into a wince at the second comment from Solara. Okay, that one had hurt a little. She bit down on her bottom lip softly, to keep herself from saying something that she would regret later on. "I have a feeling that Zyker wouldn't lower himself to the standards of you." She muttered underneath her breath, once Solara had turned the corner and was out of earshot. A relaxed sigh escaped her lips once she realized that she was alone again, and she rested against the wall. But, as soon as she had positioned herself comfortable, her best friend emerged from the room, enveloping her in his arms in a warm embrace. Her mouth hung open in shock as she took in his handsome appearance, and she just stared at him as he placed a loving kiss on her forehead.

Saffron's skin tingled where his lips had once been, but she continued to be lead by him, his arm around her waist keeping her moving. Suddenly, she stopped, turning towards him, pointing her finger at him accusingly. "Zyker Obediah Linsty. What the hell happened to your hair?" She asked him, her other hand resting on her hip. She also wanted to ask him about the whole Solara incident, but that would come after the whole hair thing.

---

Tyke had been sitting in that lounge like room for what seemed like hours now, with that Marvel boy from District Five... he believed anyway. Neither of them had acknowledged each other, and surprisingly, it was quite comfortable like that. He didn't feel like the male was going to stab him in the back and kill him at any time, which was good, and he also didn't feel any need to spark up a conversation with him to keep the atmosphere comfortable. It was nice. However, soon their uncomfortable silence was broken by the introduction of another body in the room - that of the pretty petite girl from District Seven. Mildred, was her name. Yes, he remembered her from the interviews and from their first meeting. She really was quite pretty, and her bubbly aura lit up the room as she entered. It was a refreshing change from the silence.

Then, Marvel got up and walked away, leaving the two of them alone. He nodded back curly to the male, a farewell gesture to the comfortable and quiet silence, and turned back to Mildred, welcoming the upbeat and chatty girl. He didn't feel extremely flirtatious right now; he never really did after he had been sketching, but he knew that when he was in the mood, some of his attention would be directed specifically at this girl. So, for now, he would be friendly, and sweet, a large smile on his face as he spoke. Hopefully, he could spark up some sort of relationship with her now.


"I don't mind." His voice was soft, quiet as it always was after he had been drawing, and he gestured to the many seats throughout the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable." A crooked smile flittered across his face as he offered her a place to sit. He followed her gaze around the room, nodding as he again took in the details of the cabin that he had been sketching. "It is quite nice, isn't it?" He nodded in reply, before looking back down at his sketch book. He then lifted it up to show the girl, hoping that she would like his handiwork. "What do you think? Does it capture the beauty of the room?"

Zyker Lintsy

Zyker found it hard to keep focus on what situation was at hand with the beauty in front of him. It seemed like the kiss on the forehead and the arm placement were ritual for the two, so when the space came between him the questionable look appeared on his face. "Zyker Obediah Linsty. What the hell happened to your hair?" With a smirk washing across his face, he found himself shaking his head before licking his lips. A habit that he had picked up a few months ago when the games were getting closer. With the memories of before the games coming forward, he found himself zoning out.

He found himself in his home before it was destroyed by the storm that came through District Twelve. Zyker had been helping his mother cook with the few goods they were lucky enough to get for that week. His father was promised a promotion in the next several months, so the Lintsy's were celebrating the good news even if the raise wouldn't come into effect until much later. His mother had asked Zyker to invite Saffron over, but he had refused because he didn't want to complicate their relationship. Now he wished he had spent as much time with the girl that was still standing with her hand on her hip.

With the reality of the present smacking him in the face, Zyker grabbed Saffron's hand, pulling it off her hips. "You know you like it.." He said as he brought her back into his arms for another hug. The seriousness of the haircut came to mind as he pulled her back a small distance. "What can I say? I'm game ready." He tried to seem happy with the phrase that had come from his lips, but all it did was make the air more dense. Any mention of the game made him want to yell at the top of his lungs until he passed out just to escape reality for a few moments. With a small piece in front of her face, Zyker found himself removing the strand from the fellow twelve's face.

It seemed his hand had lingered to long as a dash of color seemed to fill Saffron's face, making him feel as though his hand made the situation awkward for the two. He put on another smile before, tucking his hand into his pocket. "You look beautiful, Saffy." He wanted to pull his hand out of his pocket, but he knew he'd touch her again. He always wanted to touch her. The idea seemed very off for him because he'd never wanted to be close to anybody, but his family. Saffron was family, but much much more. He wanted to wrap her up and escape from the hell they were walking into. He felt the ripping in his chest as his mind constantly played out Saffron's death. He would have to die first because he knew that Saffron would be able to continue on without him. He was a different story. He loved the girl standing in front of him, but he'd never let her know because then she would be in the same predicament.

"Ready to go?" He said as he slide his lose hand into her's, letting his thumb massage the back on her's. He looked down at the two hands before letting go. He started walking towards the dining hall, hoping she would follow. He needed to stop the thoughts that seemed to work in and out of her brain. He didn't want her to see the fear in his eyes because he knew that she'd know every one of them as her own. Their deaths. Being alone in the end. Never seeing their family again. Never seeing twelve again. He smirked at the thought of twelve because that wasn't actually so bad to go without. With the smirk on his face, he turned back towards Saffron. "Come, dear."