───── WHEN LUNCH WAS SERVED, Delphi felt sick to her stomach at the sheer amount of smells.
It had all been laid out ahead of time as a large, self-serve buffet. There was a thick and savory chowder with real, from-scratch crackers to dunk or crush into the soup. A salad with tangy dressing, and carefully cut strawberries. Toasted sandwiches, and creamy pasta with shrimp, potatoes stuffed with butter and bacon, fruit dipped in chocolate, a pie that had a pudding consistency but was colored green... it never seemed to stop.
Several teas—cold, hot, sweet, and bitter—were laid out, as well as three sugar bowls. Delphi did a double take at the sight of the sugar. Instead of grains, or cubes, the sugar had been shaped into the vague silhouette of a fish.
She had to resist the urge to snatch one as she grabbed a pitcher and filled her cup with juice.
Her and Jason's faces must have shown their awe, because Helvius had been preening and speaking with his hands as they sat down, reminding them that this was just the beginning, that there was more awaiting them at the Capitol.
The reminder of the Games and why the pair were there in the first place almost threw off her appetite. But then Jason was being passed a bowl of pasta that had Delphi's mouth-watering, and she was picking up a pair of tongs.
Because really, she rationalized, the best thing I can do between now and the arena is gain whatever weight I can.
Delphi piled her plate with two sandwiches and a potato, then hovered the serving spoon over the bowl of pasta. She stopped short.
"Uhm," she spoke up, pulling Finnick's attention away from Mags Flanagan, her second mentor, and Helvius' attention from the chocolate-covered pineapple he was attacking with his fork. "Is there garlic in any of this?"
She glanced up just in time to catch Mags and Finnick sharing a look. Mags mumbled softly, nodding her head in the direction of the table. Again, Delphi's face must have betrayed her confusion, because Finnick elaborated, "The pasta and the chowder does. Everything else you're good to eat."
Smiling at Mags in thanks, Delphi set the serving spoon down. Helvius finally stopped harassing the fruit arrangement long enough to poke his fork in Delphi's direction and chastise her. "My dear, now is hardly the time to prioritize diets. If you're really that concerned for the parade, I can have the kitchens whip up some—"
"It's not a diet," Delphi didn't even let Helvius finish with whatever absurdity he was going to say, sitting back in her seat and grabbing a sandwich. "I can't eat garlic."
According to the apothecary, eating an herb that boosted the immune functions would not bode well for her already overactive immune system.
"Would you call it a weakness?" Finnick suddenly asked, his tone bordering on teasing as he raised an eyebrow.
Delphi gave him an odd look. "I... guess?"
Mags nudged his side with an elbow. Finnick shot Mags a reassuring smile, before turning his attention back to the tributes in front of him, pointing at her with his fork, shrimp speared on the end and all. "Then what would be one of your strengths?"
Clearly, subtly isn't one of yours, Delphi bit her tongue and swallowed her mouthful of food. She couldn't get snarky with the guy who would help ration any sponsor sent supplies.
The problem was, she also didn't want to oversell her abilities and present herself as some great warrior.
Swallowing, she began, "I've been told I'm smart," Delphi had to stop herself from outwardly glaring at Finnick when he chuckled low, clearly remembering their interaction in the bar car. "And I'm... practical? I've worked on boats for years, so I'm good with knots and weaving. Snares, baskets, nets; the works."
"A survivalist," Finnick nodded slowly. "And you?"
"Uh, I don't-" Jason blushed pink. "I don't know. I know one or two snares. I'm okay with the beginner knots. I'm fast, though! And I can identify lots of plants..."
"I can't do that," Delphi said, "Identify plants, I mean."
Mags gestured for Finnick's attention, and the two had another nonverbal conversation with hand signs. She was partially familiar with Sign Language—when wind and rain was louder than any voice could be, sometimes a sailor had to rely on hand signals to communicate with the crew—but nothing that would allow her to hold a conversation beyond securing sails and double checking the crab traps.
Delphi looked between their fingers, trying to notice familiar signs, and figure out what was being said.
She hoped it was something good.
Mags Flanagan was popular in District Four for more than her historic win. The woman was practically a saint. She left the gates to Victor's Village open for visitors and was known to go around town passing out and selling fruits and vegetables from her garden. If someone like that thought lowly of her, Delphi would be mortified. Especially when the appearance of the older woman had made Delphi downright giddy.
She had been hoping for the woman's advice and wisdom ever since she had entered the car for lunch and seen Mags.
Delphi was no Finnick Odair. She would not survive through strength and charm. She could, however, survive if she played it smart. Smart like Mags had been, setting up snares and focusing on collecting water. Making her fishing poles out of natural materials that could be used as kindling at a moment's notice, and staying out of the way of the other tributes.
Delphi could not outmuscle, but she could outlast. She could be silent and survive. That would be enough, right? It had to be.
"Mags is right," Finnick said. "Sometimes, knowledge of plant life can make a big difference between life and death. You won't starve, and you won't poison yourself."
Nobody could overlook the implication of poisoning the other tributes. Jason looked torn between sick and relieved at the support.
Finnick subtly glanced in Helvius' direction before he turned back to Delphi. "Okay, now what are your active skills?"
What weapons did you train with in the Academy? Delphi mentally translated, What are your feats?
It wasn't as if he could say it outright. The Capitol may overlook District Four's illegal training, but that was only because they had plausible deniability. They could be training their Victors, or were the people in the district just that active? But if they lose that deniability, the Peacekeepers could crack down hard on the District.
And Helvius didn't seem the type to keep trade secrets.
"Like I said, I've worked on a boat for years. I'm no stranger to a harpoon or a knife." Delphi shrugged.
Jason shifted in his seat. "I haven't..." he trailed off.
Finnick set his fork down. There was an unidentifiable look in his eye. "Jason, can I ask how old you are?"
The young boy slipped further down in his seat, visibly embarrassed by his lack of skills. His fork pushed around a curled shrimp, dripping in a creamy sauce.
"Thirteen," he replied in a mutter.
Mags shut her eyes briefly.
He's never held a real knife, Delphi felt her chest ache for the boy at her side.
The Academy was built on the promise of giving their District's tributes a real chance of winning, yes, but that all hinged on an older, properly trained student Volunteering. The thirteen-year-olds worked on survival skills and trained with mock weapons. It was the eighteen-year-olds who knew how to handle real spears, swords, or bows and arrows.
"Okay." Finnick looked between the two, and Delphi wondered what he saw. Who was he betting on, between the girl with shaking hands and the thirteen-year-old who hadn't so much as breathed near a knife?
Was he seeing them at all, or was he already mourning the possibility of a Victor for District Four?
"Here's what we're gonna do—"
"Ooh," Helvius dabbed at the grease around his painted lips with a simper, "Are we getting serious already?
Finnick politely ignored the Escort, "First, Mags and I have to know if you want to be coached together or separately. There's no shame in either. If there's any lingering doubt, we get that."
Mags tapped her finger against the table for attention. Delphi immediately gave it, and the woman smiled. She pointed at herself and shook her head, then pointed at Delphi and Jason. Finally, the woman hooked her two pointer fingers together.
"Mags is right," Finnick said. "There's no shame in working alone, but whether you realize it or not, Delphi, you've already set a bit of groundwork for an interview angle."
Her brows raised in surprise.
He hadn't remembered Jason's name, but he knew hers. Or had that been some kind of test? Delphi sat back in her chair, looking between Jason and her mentors. "I did?"
Nodding strongly, Mags pointed at Jason again and feigned moving something.
"Oh," Delphi said, cutting off Finnick who had gone to speak, "you mean at the train station?"
Mags nodded, giving Finnick a smug look before folding her hands across the table.
Finnick stared at the old woman, exasperated, before turning back to the Tributes. "That's exactly what she means. You've placed yourself between him and the crowd twice now—once at the station, and once at the Reaping."
The Capitol will love it, was heavily implied, the point driven further home by Helvius sniffing wetly.
"It was so sweet," the Escort cooed, waving his fingers at them, "You must be such a great older sister."
"I'm an only child," Delphi told him, and then looked between her mentors. "And an alliance isn't just up to me. Jason might—"
"I don't care." Jason spoke up, and Delphi blinked in surprise at the boy's words.
She turned to face him, and the blond was twiddling his thumbs in his lap. "What?"
He hesitated, staring at his hands in deep thought. She couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about.
"I didn't really have an angle for my interviews," he spoke carefully. "And I mean, you're nicer than I thought you'd be, so I've lucked out in that aspect for an alliance partner. And if it will help us with sponsorships..."
You're nicer than I thought you'd be.
What was it that her parents had said? She was kind. She could charm the Capitol. And now, Jason was willing to stick by her side in a kill-or-be-killed game of survival because he thought she was nice.
You're putting too much faith in me, Delphi swallowed hard.
Everyone was.
Maureen, her parents, and now Jason—she felt like she could scream. She wanted to tell Jason it was entirely misplaced. That he had a better chance fighting alone. That it didn't matter how nice she was, she was simply going to drag him down, as there was no way in hell she would last the games without going into organ failure in the final stretch, after being starved and dehydrated beyond imagination.
But she couldn't say that. Not when everyone was staring at her expectantly.
When she spoke, it wasn't in further protest.
"Okay." Delphi ran her hand down the side of her face, looking between her mentors wearily, continuing. "We'll work together."
"Could you sound any less excited?" Finnick wondered.
"Dude," Jason hissed. Then, he turned to Delphi and rushed out, "You can say no. It's okay if you have another idea—"
"I didn't," Delphi consoled him. "I had no clue what tactic I was gonna use."
"Alright," Finnick looked pleased, which was promising, "Of course, we're not going to let you do all the work. Jason," he turned to the younger boy, "Delphi's skills can only take you so far. Her angle in this alliance is she's protective. You have to give the Capitol a reason why she wants to protect you. Because if they like her, they'll like you, and vice versa."
Jason furrowed his brows, "I have to be useful?"
Mags waved her hand in a so-so gesture.
"Well, yes. So don't shy away from learning things in training. But you also have to look useful, without looking or sounding too arrogant," Finnick warned. "Everyone's your enemy already. Don't make specific enemies. And you might wanna keep a majority of the polished skills you do have under wraps for the games—which goes for both of you."
"You've lost me," Jason admitted. "I thought we had to be, you know, cool."
"Not necessarily," Finnick gestured at him. "I mean, you're young. Don't be afraid to lean into that. Be boyish, but polite. Your shoes had been untied," Just when had he noticed that? "And they're bound to notice, so lean into funny, but not ignorant. Be charming, but vague when Caesar asks what your skills are," Finnick took a breath and looked to Mags, "What time is it?"
Mags checked her watch, and then abruptly pulled herself to her feet. She popped a chocolate-covered strawberry into her mouth as she stood and carefully signed towards Finnick, who nodded.
"That means lunch is over," he told the tributes, standing himself, "follow me."
Helvius cooed, "More for me!" And began attacking a bowl of chilled pudding.
Delphi finished her glass of water and stood as well. She circled the table, and unable to help herself, snagged a handful of fish-shaped sugar cubes as she passed them. Popping one into her mouth, she crunched down on the sugar fish as Finnick and Mags led them into another compartment.
It was as expensively decorated as the rest of the train, looking much like a lounge room, instead of a train car. Sleek, black leather couches were arranged in front of a fireplace. Mags hobbled forward, reaching for a remote set on a coffee table. She pressed a button, and Delphi watched, amazed, as the panels on the wall slid in to reveal a large, flat screen.
Delphi didn't realize she had hesitated at the doorway until Finnick called her name. "Sit wherever," Finnick gestured, "You are the one who wanted to get started, weren't you?"
Delphi clutched her fist around the sugar cubes. The granules were fine, though the odd outline of the cube dug into her palms. Her pace was brisk as she rounded the couch. Jaw set, she sat on the edge of the couch, near the armrest, and stared at him challenging.
Finnick sighed, his lips twitching—suppressing a scowl, most likely.
"What are we watching?" Jason asked as Mags played with the television.
"The Reapings," Finnick replied, "They try to stagger them throughout the day so people can watch the whole thing live. District Five is going up next. When we've made it all the way through to Twelve, we'll watch One, Two, and Three."
Sizing up the competition, then. Getting a feel for their bravery, their fear. Their eagerness or hesitation. Any physical weaknesses, that one could exploit in the arena.
It's like learning what fish is venomous and what's poisonous, Delphi tried to convince herself, testing the waters, so you know there's nothing dangerous.
Except, she realized as Panem's anthem began to play, that there was no similarity between the two. These were her peers.
They were children.
The tributes began rolling in throughout the day, and nobody moved from their seats. Delphi grew more and more uncomfortable with each District, each name.
The pair from Five were both soft-faced and scrawny. The the girl looked ready to cry. In Six, both tributes were stone-faced. The boy was resigned, and the girl—Caroline Traxon, Delphi stored away the name, who is definitely older—drew attention the most. She was tall, with olive skin. There was a mean look in her eye that had Delphi shifting, and when Seven rolled around, she was thankful for it.
A girl—fourteen? thirteen?—was reaped, and took it with as much grace as she could. However, things got chaotic when a black-haired boy even younger was Reaped. There was a cry from the fringes, like a wounded animal. Someone howled, "I volunteer!" and the young boy was hauled away kicking and screaming, while an older one took his place on the stage.
"What's your name?" The Escort asked, and the boy gave a smile. Delphi was surprised he remembered to do it—she certainly couldn't.
"Lief Cavendish."
Chloris Cavendish had been the other boy's name. Delphi bit her bottom lip.
Eight and Nine, in comparison, were routine. There was another twelve/thirteen-year-old reaped from Eight, and both Tributes from Nine were muscular from hauling around the grain from their district. Neither of the Tributes from Ten were particularly memorable aside from their watery eyes.
In Eleven, another person Volunteered. And it's not the way Delphi expected it. The first girl Reaped is older, and only just made it onto the stage before someone called, "I volunteer as tribute!"
Unlike Lief's younger brother, the girl just closed her eyes, resigned as her younger sister took the stage in her stead. "My name," she stammered for a second, summoning every ounce of her bravery, "Is Naomi Thatch."
Naomi's courage was swiftly mocked by the Capitol, and Delphi may have ground her teeth in frustration, but she didn't comment on it.
Not even when names were pulled in District Twelve, and a blonde girl who looked heartbreakingly young—twelve, for sure—had to be dragged onto the stage by Peacekeepers, sniveling beside her much older District partner who had dark skin and darker hair.
Mags turned off the live television before Caesar could come on screen and mock that little girl, too. She switched over to the reruns.
District One was reaped traditionally. A boy and a girl held hands and shook with joy, cheering and hollering with the crowd. Blowing kisses, their clothes sparkling in the sunlight and putting the wedding attire from District Four to shame. Caesar and Claudius loved it. They critiqued the clothes, they feigned a swoon over the smiles and kisses.
"We're off to a brilliant start," Caesar cooed, "These Games are going to be just extraordinary, I can feel it in the air."
District Two was not as straightforward an affair. There were Volunteers, one after another, shouting to get on stage. The pair that was decided on were mean-looking, and smug. They were friends, it seemed. Or maybe they just knew each other from school and played it up for the camera. Either way, they tapped their knuckles together, before turning to the cameras and grinning wide.
District Three fell flat in comparison. Something that Claudius noted, which made Delphi wince with sympathy. You could tell the pair tried to play the crowd, but their District wasn't giving them much to work with. They weren't overly excited. They didn't come off as overconfident. They waved, of course, and smiled. Bowed and joined hands, too. They just...
They were scared.
It showed.
Then, District Four. She saw the moment her name was called and searched the crowd for herself as the camera panned, waiting for her to step forward, but couldn't find her face. She watched as everyone grew fidgety—"Someone wants to make a dramatic entrance," Claudius joked to ease the tension—only to unwind when she finally, finally stepped forward.
"Oh, look at that cold stare," Caeser teased, bringing his hands up to rub at his sleeves as if a chill had rushed through the studio.
At the time, she hadn't felt particularly terrifying. She had felt scared. But looking at herself, yeah, she could see it. The vacant, disassociated look in her eyes could be mistaken for boredom. Her shoulders were so tense she almost seemed annoyed.
"Oh, certainly," Claudius cooed in agreement, nodding his head so fast that Delphi feared it may fly off. With a wave of his hand, the scene behind them shifted; they showed Jason, (more like they joked about his untied shoes and compared him to an excited lapdog) and then showed when they shook hands.
"It looks as if she's trying to break his hand!" Caeser joked, "Delphi, darling, save it for the arena!"
They cracked a few more jokes at Delphi, Jason, and even Evey's expense, and then the television was turned off.
Delphi stared into her reflection on the black screen for a long moment. She was silent, even as Finnick began to grill them with questions.
"So, now you've seen them." He said, legs crossing properly and finger tapping against the armrest of the lounge chair. She wondered if he does it consciously, or if grace is his second nature, "Cheering, crying, and otherwise. Who stood out to you? Who's your biggest threat?"
"The Volunteers," Jason said immediately. "All of them. They must have Volunteered because they could fight!"
"Really?" Finnick asked, "Even the Volunteer from Eleven?"
"Even her." Jason's voice was firm. "That's her older sister. She'll be fighting to get back to her."
"That's everyone," Delphi couldn't help but respond.
Her voice was low but cut through the air like a gunshot. Mags turned to her, eyes shining, and Finnick cocked his head like a dog assessing a bone.
"Can you repeat that?" He asked.
"That's everyone," Delphi repeated slowly. "Everyone's fighting to get back to someone. Everyone is scared, even if they don't show it."
She didn't even finish before Mags was quickly nodding along, her weathered hands clapping softly as if to cheer on some big speech.
Finnick grinned wickedly. His fingers stopped drumming on the armrest of his chair and he stood, pointing at Delphi. "Exactly."
He sounded triumphant, as he paced around the room, gesturing to the television with wide arcs of his hands. "Everyone is a threat in the arena. Especially to you. You think you wanna go home?"
Delphi caught herself in the middle of a nod, stopping only when Finnick pointed at her again.
"No," he corrected, "you don't."
"But I do," Jason said, shrinking back when Finnick squinted at him with a frown.
"Well, pretend you don't." Finnick shot back, "Because they are. In their heads, no one wants to go home to the degree they want to. Especially not us. For all they know, you're at home, enjoying all of the," he gestured at their surroundings, gilded and silver and nausea-inducing, "generosity of the Capitol."
The way that Finnick spoke was so fervent that for a moment, Delphi was taken aback. There was a heat in his eyes so intense that she had to look away. Her attention settled on Mags, who stared back at her with soft eyes. Jason's own gaze was trained on the floor, his fingers laced together, his hands gripping to each other so tightly, that his knuckles bled white.
It was for him that Delphi forced herself to speak, though her lips felt sticky from solid sugar, and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. She pried her eyes away from Mags, ignoring the upwards slant of the old woman's mouth. "What if they're not wrong?"
Finnick wavered. She saw it. His shoulders pulled back, his lips parted, and the Capitol's Darling stared at her as if she'd sprouted another head.
"What?"
She held up a fish-shaped sugar cube for him to see. She hadn't eaten many while watching the Reapings, her stomach too knotted for anything to settle right. The fins were pinched between her two fingers, granules grating against her calluses.
"These are fish-shaped," she pointed out, "because we came from District Four, and that's our primary export. It's generous, and yeah, I did find it interesting. Maybe I enjoyed it so much I'd do anything to stay at the Capitol, enjoying their thoughtful, fish-shaped sugar cubes."
She gave Finnick a pointed look, and he seemed to catch on, his brows shooting up in surprise. Just like that, the tension in the room subsided.
He almost seemed impressed.
"That's your incentive to win?" He asked for confirmation, "You like sugar cubes?"
"I mean, if sugar isn't a good enough reason to stay alive," Delphi popped the not-quite-cube in her mouth, biting down with a gratifying crunch. "Is anything?"
───────⊹⊱ AUTHOR ✦ NOTE⊰⊹───────
delphi "gaslight. gatekeep. girlboss." jonah