canyon wind- lamina x fem!oc

the games

  The next morning, Sylvia is the first awake.  She's had fitful sleep all night, too caught up in her anxiety and worry to have a good night's rest.  She knows many- if not all- of the tributes are the same way, because she's only awake for a few moments before Lamina shifts next to her, stirring out of unconsciousness.  Then the others slowly start to wake up, and before long, they're all sitting in the enclosure, waiting to be dragged off to the arena.  

  Lamina's only been awake for a few moments before she seems to remember the situation she's in, and her breathing quickens, hands shaking and desperately shooting around her as if they're looking for something.  On a limb, Sylvia stretches out her hand so it's in Lamina's immediate vicinity, and immediately the other girl is grabbing onto and holding it for dear life.  Their fingers interlock as they have so many times before, and Sylvia's moving closer to Lamina before the girl's even uttered a word. 

  Sylvia sees the furrow of her eyebrows, the trembling of her lip, the small wrinkle she gets next to her lip when she's upset and about to cry.  Her eyes glass over with unshed tears, and Sylvia's already moving her free hand to cup the side of Lamina's face gently, brushing her thumb over her cheekbone.  

  "Hey, it's alright, sweetheart." She murmurs, voice gentle and as sweet as she can make it, like honey.  "We'll be alright."  

  As if to dispute her claim, the door to the enclosure bangs open, peacekeepers rushing in before most of the tributes are even awake.  Lamina's grip on her hand increases tenfold, and Sylvia is about ready for the peacekeepers to come and shackle them, when she notices that they're not approaching any of the tributes.  Instead, they take up a formation near the door and the surrounding walls, and Sylvia's curious eyes turn towards the door again as a woman she's never seen before walks in. 

  She's dressed smartly, in a white jacket with what looks to be a small medical bag tucked under her arm.  She takes note of the white, rigged scar on the woman's face, going from the bottom of her left eyebrow to the corner of her lip.  It's jagged enough that Sylvia knows it wasn't done by a sharp knife or blade, so either some kind of dull, serrated knife, or some kind of animal.  Either way, it makes the woman memorable.

  As the woman walks in, Sylvia squeezes Lamina's hand, watching as one of the peacekeepers steps out of formation to accompany the woman to the middle of the enclosure.  

  "I hope you're all having a fine morning."  The woman starts, and by that sentence alone, Sylvia wants to punch her in the face, "I'm going to bring around a pill for each of you.  It's a supplement to make you all look livelier for the audience on camera.  Make you look less..."  She grimaces as she takes a look around at them, at their pale, gaunt faces, "...deathly."  She finishes, shaking her head and knocking the expression off her face.  

  Of course, Sylvia thinks.  Give them a fucking vitamin supplement to make them more marketable for sponsors, make it so they look nice and pretty when they're fighting to the death and killing each other in that arena.  

  She doesn't even realize her anger is growing that much until she feels Lamina's free hand reaching under her shawl and grabbing onto her arm, squeezing slightly as she rubs her thumb over her skin.  Sylvia turns, her anger dissipating slightly as she offers Lamina a small smile.  She places her free hand on top of Lamina's wrist, rubbing her thumb over her before she turns back to the woman. 

  The doctor- or whoever she is- goes to the nearest tributes- Dill and Reaper.  Dill takes the pill offered to her and stares nervously at it in the palm of her hand, looking up to Reaper for assurance as he's given one of his own.  Though he looks less than pleased, he nods, and the two of them take it and swallow it.