The Career Tribute

[shenevermisses]

Who: Clove and the citizens of Luceti
What: The District Two tribute from the 74th Hunger Games wakes up in Luceti.
When: May 5th, afternoon
Where: Luceti's village
Summary: Clove arrives in Luceti.
Rating: PG-13? At worst?

Part one:

It's a warm day, bright and sunny. The New Feather might well just have decided to take a nap, for all it looks to see the white dress in the green grass.

She's curled slightly, an arm under her head. Her hair fans out, and her eyes are closed. Soft breaths raise her chest, and it lowers with every exhale. Her gold wings are folded serenely against her back. The perfect image of peace.

She shifts in her sleep, and one of her hands (the one closest to her, not under her head) opens and closes. Like there should be something there. That's enough to wake her. Her eyes start to flutter open, but they close quickly against the bright sun. Her other hand expands and contracts, feeling the grass under her fingers.

"Cato?" She's still half asleep, but she's willing her eyes open. The word is quiet, either because she didn't really mean to say it or because she expects whoever ought to answer to be within earshot of it. She sits up slowly, feeling the resistance of her body to that movement. She's sore, but she's been sleeping on the ground. That's hardly a surprise. When she calls again, her voice has a little more carrying more. "Cato?"

It's then that she looks around. No lake, no Cornucopia. No tents.

"Cato?" It's louder now and she's scrambling to her feet. Almost losing her balance.

Her bare feet. And she sees the white she's wearing. She hasn't worn a dress since the interview, and it was nothing like this.

She remembers, too. She remembers the knife in her hand, District Twelve under her. She remembers being hauled up, tossed aside. She remembers the huge boy coming after her. She remembers feeling her head slam into something. Into the Cornucopia.

Now, she's shouting. Desperate. "Cato!"

***

Part two:

For many residents of Luceti, it was a familiar sight: a dazed person dressed in white venturing into town with a journal clasped in their hands.

For Clove, it was still a shock.

That District Twelve had let her live was proof that this wasn't the Arena. It didn't seem possible. She'd walked past houses. Now, she saw items on display in the shops, smelled the food. Her mouth watered.

When had she last eaten? Really eaten?

Why was she hungry? Wasn't she dead?

Clove looked around. First... Clothes. Clothes came first. She didn't like wandering around in a thin white dress with no shoes. Maybe she could even find a knife. Going unarmed was dangerous. Then she could worry about food.

And housing. She'd need somewhere to sleep.


(Part One is for stillplaying. Part Two is a free-for-all!

Hunger Games spoilers abound behind cut.)

Comments

[stillplaying]

Angry. That's what she was. Angry. Furious with these new Gamemakers that had the nerve to bring him here. Peeta. Peeta Mellark, who had gone on a rampage before she had found him in the village, convinced he was in the arena surrounded by muttations. A Peeta that did not understand when she had come running at him, shouting the word "Real, real!" again and again to get him to stop.

Further conversation had made one thing remarkably clear: it was much more entertaining to watch the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve be thrown for yet another loop. Different points in time. They were from different points in time.

Two days later and she had still not forgiven them. Had not forgiven Peeta, even if he was as much a victim again as she was.

It was easier to spend all waking hours in the woods and meadows surrounding her treehouse. The deer supply had since run out and she was hunting for three now. A much needed escape anyway from the game her life had once again become.

Hunting soothed her. Gave her time alone. Allowed her to think. Allowed her to forget herself, her worries and... that voice. That name being shouted. It was familiar. Oh so familiar. Too familiar and much too close to her treehouse sanctuary to be of any comfort.

She takes off running, bow in one hand and the other ready to pull an arrow from the sheath. The odds really were not in her favor this week.

[shenevermisses]

It doesn't take long for Clove to feel hoarse. She's screaming. Over and over again. She doesn't know where she is. She remembers what happened to her but there is no proof it happened. Her head doesn't hurt, there's no sign of the Cornucopia, and there's no Cato.

Cato was right there when she closed her eyes. She'd been safe. Sure, a part of her knew she was dying. But she'd been safe.

Now... Now...

She tried again, the effort ripping her throat. "Cato!"

[stillplaying]

The screams don't stop. She wants them to. She wants to be wrong. But it's clear as she comes into the clearing that she isn't. This sprint is much shorter, much more disheartening than her run into town. Because it's not a friendly face that comes into view when she slows down.

And she remembers. Remembers the taunting words from two years prior, bracing herself for the slow death the sharp gleam of the knives promised. That first slit into her lip before the girl is yanked away. Before she watches Thresh smash a rock into Clove's skull.

She strings an arrow and aims it in the girl's direction. Even here, even dress in the dress of a new arrival, she wouldn't put it past her. Knows entirely what the girl from District Two is capable of.

"He's not here."

[shenevermisses]

That voice.

Somehow, that is what makes it real. What makes her blood run cold and her stomach drop to her feet. She stares at the girl, sees the arrow, the bow, the eyes.

She wants to scream. She wants to scream until her throat bleeds. This isn't real. This can't be real. If she's dead, she's dead, but she shouldn't have to see this girl again. No. No, no, no. No!

But any sounds of fear or rage or anything die in her throat.

She can only stare, wide-eyed and waiting for another death. She has nothing on her now, and there's nothing even close to her that she could use. If this is death, it must be like sleeping... and this is the first of a hundred nightmares.

[stillplaying]

It isn't fair. They haunt her nightmares. This girl and the other tributes of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. They tell her at night how she doesn't deserve to live. Bury her alive with their words and ashes. Make sure she suffers for their deaths. Remind her how her conscience will never be clean.

They shouldn't be here, too.

She doesn't take a step closer. Doesn't have to, with her arrow braced to fly. It'll do the work faster than any other weapon she has. And it's tempting. It is so, so tempting to do it. To kill Clove when she couldn't in the arena. To prevent her from getting anywhere closer to the treehouse.

She's done it before. Killed in cold blood.

She can do it again. Be the Mockingjay. End a life. Just to protect what's hers.

[shenevermisses]

"He's not here."

This isn't Thresh. Staring at him as he holds her, prepares to strike.

She had her knives then, useless as they were. She'd known Cato was near. Too far, she'd learned too late, to help her. But he'd been there. She'd known Cato would come to her... and he had. Eventually. It wasn't his fault. It was hers, for losing sight of the other tributes to focus on this girl.

This time, she was alone and defenceless.

But. But. This time, she could die properly. She could die like a District Two tribute. Proud and strong. Not screaming for help.

Her arms at her side, aware of the thin material of her white dress, Clove straightened up as tall as she could, and her chin was level with the ground as her eyes focused on District Twelve. On Katniss Everdeen. On the Girl on Fire.

She would not flinch away from death this time.

[brokethefourthwall]

[While passing the item shop, Clove may happen to notice the bright pink pony making her way out of the item shop. The equally pink saddlebags at her side are packed with various knickknacks, along with a similar journal in plain sight. The pony giggles happily at the new items she's picked up, plotting various uses she can get out of them.

When she opens her eyes, the first thing she comes across is the newcomer, and she immediately stops in her tracks.]

[shenevermisses]

[Clove has seen strange things. Genetically engineered wasps, freak fires that came out of nowhere... not to mention everything televized during the Hunger Games every year. Beasts meant to kill tributes or drive them together to provoke a bloodbath.

...But a small pink pony...

That's a new one.

What else is there to do but stare, really?]

1/2

[brokethefourthwall]

[Pinkie blinks a few times, looking over the girl. That journal. That dress. That look of confusion. It's all very familiar. She cocks her head, taking a step closer.]

[brokethefourthwall]

[When suddenly, it clicks. She lets out a loud, dramatic gasp, before turning around and bolting in the opposite direction!]

[shenevermisses]

[...Okay, usually muttations aren't more afraid of tributes than tributes are of them...

But this isn't the Arena. Right? Or is this just some very, very strange sort of Game and District Twelve had a leave of sanity to let her live?

Clove forces herself not to scream. Not in frustration, not in fear, not in anything. She isn't going to let anyone who might be watching her know they've gotten to her at all. She'll just... stand still. And try to regain her bearings in this foreign place.]

[brokethefourthwall]

[Have you ever had that feeling that someone is behind you? Well, this time, you're right. An overly-bubbly, giggly voice calls out:]

Hi there! Welcome to Luceti Village!

[shenevermisses]

[Exaggerated startle reflex? Just a bit.

Clove whips around, stepping back several times quickly and crouching to go for her boot-- that she doesn't have on. But she stays somewhat low, looking ready to bolt.

Her eyes are wide, staring at the pink... thing.]

[cop_an_attitude]

[Lost in thought, Sally walks ten steps past the girl before it registers:

White dress, lost expression, wandering around town. Check. New Feather alert.

She turns and takes a couple steps back.]

Excuse me, miss? Are you all right?

[shenevermisses]

[Clove looks toward the woman and... manages a nod after a moment.]

I... think I am.

Thanks.

I'm just... [doesn't hurt to be honest right now] really, really confused.

[cop_an_attitude]

[Yeah, she knows that feeling.] That's to be expected, if you're new. Have you read your journal yet? What's your name?

[shenevermisses]

Not yet.

I... woke up in a field... and... someone directed me toward the town.

[All anyone needs to know right now.

But she does remember her manner, and she offers her hand.]

I'm Clove.

[cop_an_attitude]

Sally. [She takes Clove's hand and shakes it.] Reading the journal helps. It tells you...well, not everything you'll want to know, but all the basics.

[Sally's carrying a bag, and she shifts it over her shoulder.] Do you need help finding anything?

[shenevermisses]

I... [This is a lot to take in. Way, way too much.

But. Basics.]

Clothes, food, and housing. Or even who I could go to and ask about how to get them. Or... anything.

eeeee a Clove!

[iwantcake]

Chell had only come to Luceti during the last wave. So, seeing the new entourage of denizens clad in white cotton was somewhat new to her, but she had been in the same situation before. She knew how confusing it was, how strange it was. Only by reading other people's journal posts, that welcoming guide, and by one-sided conversations, she knew that this was a gathering spot for many different worlds.

Nevertheless, seeing such a plethora of people was not something she was used to.

But, there was something about this particular girl that caught Chell's attention. She watched the girl wander, eyes fixated on her. She seemed almost wild and foreign, like Chell was. Of course, everyone was "foreign" to this place, but there was something, like she had just been through a heavy ordeal.

Indeed!

[shenevermisses]

Four opposing shocks weighted Clove's mind.

First, there was the shock of remembering her death. Second, being alive again. Third, being in a strange place. Fourth, there was the shock of District Twelve letting her live.

In a way, the separation of the loads while they remained connected kept her steady. Kept it from being too much to bear.

As did her goal. Clothes, housing, maybe a weapon. Then some food, possibly. The cake and apple others had fed her had helped quiet her rumbling stomach. She was still hungry, but it wasn't as bad.

The feeling of eyes on her was familiar, ingrained by now. Say and do nothing you wouldn't have the whole world see.

Still, she looks around. And there's someone looking at her. She meets the gaze.

[iwantcake]

Chell's fears were somewhat similar but different. Her own trauma was from years of isolation, and just as she had grasped her freedom, she found herself trapped in another place. However, if she had to choose her prison, she would much rather it be here than... that other place.

She was curious about this girl, though. She had been through something, she could tell. She didn't know what, but she could sense the shock. Perhaps it was just the shock of being somewhere new, but still, she just seemed almost like... a kindred spirit. Almost. Perhaps once the other spoke, though, Chell would think differently.

Her time in Luceti had made her loosen up slightly around people, though she was still not quite used to being around so many, so her visage was somewhat neutral, but she still maintained a defensive composure. But she uncrossed her arms and held them to her sides in a gesture of pseudo-openness. She also cocked her head slightly in curiosity.

[shenevermisses]

There was something about this woman that Clove liked. It reminded her of District Twelve, in a way. The same kind of tension or... something. They weren't old... rivals? enemies? Whatever she was to Twelve. And Twelve was to her. Clove didn't have a name for it because she'd never thought about it. They'd been tributes together, and that said everything. But here... They were something else.

They were all something else.

But this woman...

Clove watched her change her stance. She didn't speak, though. Instead, she simply bowed her head in quiet acknowledgement without drawing any nearer. The familiarity that she sensed made her cautious. Not afraid, really, but this woman...

Clove had heard about Victors who "never left the Game." Who jumped at every sound and lashed out at people walking on the street. Couldn't that happen to a dead former tribute? Or a dead former Victor? (She was still inclined to think everyone she saw might be one or the other or a muttation.) So she kept her distance, but she could not pretend not to see her.

[iwantcake]

Chell saw the other girl's acknowledgment, but didn't exactly blame her for not approaching. After all, it's not like she went up an introduced herself or anything. She wanted to know more about her, though, because she could sense that they had been through something similar.

But she didn't approach any closer. She just gave a short nod in acknowledgment.

But she'll remember this girl. She stood out from the other new arrivals.

[shenevermisses]

"Clove."

They're close enough that she'll be heard. It's neither friendly nor hostile. Just... a name to put to the face. A further acknowledgement with a thousand questions behind it. Some similarity, even though she's never seen this woman before.

There's a kinship here... and that puts her somehow more at ease. She isn't alone.