After The Storm (A Hunger Games Fanfic)

Training Day 3: Morning Session

The last day of training. This time tomorrow, the tributes will be in the arena. Some will already be dead.

But first, today is a busy day. After the morning session, it's all about impressing. First the Gamemakers, in the afternoon assessments, and then the dreaded interviews, broadcast across the whole of Panem. It's a lot of pressure, and it's starting to get to some of the tributes.

"How are you feeling?" Pleonie asks Grey, as they eat steadily. Neither of the pair from Eight have much of an appetite but they know they have to keep their strength up. Grey glowers at her, clutching his handkerchief in his lap. It still smells faintly of smoke and home. He doesn't know what to make of Pleonie. She seems too calm, even for a volunteer, like she might be hiding something. And he doesn't like her way of dashing around the training room at random.

"Brilliant," he snaps. "Never better."

Pleonie sighs and retreats. Grey refuses to warm up to her. She understands why, she just wishes he would because then she could try and make him feel slightly more at ease, make this less painful for the young lad. That's her mother's genes, that is. Wanting to heal, wanting to save, however reckless. It's second nature to her. She wouldn't be here without it.

Anaria is alive; that's what counts.

Her assessment. Her tribute score will be her best chance of getting sponsors; she knows she won't offer anything in interview that the others won't have covered. Well, she has her status as a volunteer, her sister, but lots of the other tributes will have family. And the thought of having to speak in front of all those people freezes her tongue already.

Her skills with weapons are decidedly average, according to the bitter throwing knives instructor. He's seen better, but he's seen worse. However, she's quick-fingered, especially with ropes, and competant at traps, getting the hang of a few basic snares, and her knowledge of plants and berries for healing should serve her well. Communicating that to the Gamemakers, though, could be a problem...

Perhaps she should just rush in and decide what to do then. She'll only forget any plans she makes, anyway. Sebastian will hate her for it; he likes plans. But it's what will work best for her.

What will Grey do?

Grey doesn't know either. He'd never thought he'd be reaped, and especially not at his second reaping. Yes, it happens, but not to him. Or so he thought. This place is not like how he imagined it. It's much brighter than it looks on screen, and there's so much space that it makes him uncomfortable, not like the cosily cramped District Eight. And it smells. Scratch that, it out and out stinks.

"This place sucks," he mutters gloomily. The escort shoots him a dark look - he can't be bothered to know the man's name; it's something ridiculous anyway - but he is unrepentant. It's only the truth. And it's safe to taunt the escort. Unlike the other tributes, they won't track him down and kill him.

Lucky for Grey, he's got experience of running and hiding from people he has annoyed.

"It's not that bad," says Pleonie with a diplomatic smile. "The food is nice."

"Yeah, and the entertainment is top-notch," Grey retorts.

They go back to eating in silence.

Ezekiel looks out of the window with a sigh. It's raining. You would think that with the Capitol able to create grand arenas they would be able to manipulate the weather in their own state. Or maybe they just can't be bothered to waste those resources and prefer to use them on something important, like forcing kids to fight to the death.