Crowds had formed outside the train station by the time Magenta and the tributes arrived. Dahlia assumed that Wyatt's farewell had been emotional as he was even more of a wreck when she saw him again. He didn't fare much better with the horde of people gawking at them. Keeping his head down, he let Magenta push him through the congregation and onto the train. Dahlia, meanwhile, had already begun to play the part of a willing volunteer. Smiling at people and greeting them as if she was thrilled to be going, until she was eventually coerced into the locomotive. Her smile instantly melted away as soon as the doors shut and she pushed past Wyatt to get into the carriage.
The sight inside made her sick. The decadence and luxury of the room had her believing she had wandered into the wrong place. They had food laid out on display, brand new couches that looked soft to touch, glistening silverware as far as the eye could see. It looked so pristine... Too pristine. She didn't want to touch anything in case she broke it. Her family couldn't afford the food in this room, never mind any of the furniture.
Dahlia hadn't realised that she was frozen in the doorway until Magenta squeezed past. "I don't know what you're gaping at. They gave us the absolute bare minimum. I mean, the trains in District One have chandeliers. Chandeliers! And they're the closest to the Capitol. I have to make do with silver lampshades." The man rambled on with his complaints of how the train was not up to standards and was in dire need of refurbishment.
"You should stay in my house." Dahlia comments sarcastically as Magenta perches delicately on the edge of a seat. "You can crash on the sofa or bunk up with me and my two sisters." Magenta gasps in horror, placing a hand to his chest as his mouth drops open. "You'd get used to the snoring."
"I certainly will not be staying with you." Magenta proclaims indignantly, waving the two tributes to sit in front of him.
"Especially not if she's dead." Wyatt mutters glumly, nearly collapsing onto the plush sofa.
"I intend to win." Dahlia declares passionately, knowing that she'll fight as hard as she can to get back to her family. "Dying isn't an option."
"That's the spirit, dearie." Magenta grins, reaching across to pat Dahlia's hand.
Wyatt's eyes narrow at the girl. "That's what everyone thinks, until they realise there's no way any of us can survive this. The Careers will win, like they usually do, and the rest of us will end up dead as soon as the countdown is over."
Dahlia glares right back at her District partner. She doesn't care what he thinks. "With an attitude like that, you're already dead. Hope is the only thing we've got so if you don't mind keeping your predictions to yourself, I'd be very appreciative of the silence."
"Looks like we've got our hands full with these two." A new voice states from behind the tributes, making them shoot up from their seat. Alaric Silvers was in his 50s now, and he had lost all faith in his ability to mentor. This year's tributes were the complete opposite of each other and it was already giving him a headache. He longs to take a leaf out of his friend, Haymitch's, book and head straight for the alcohol. Instead, he plops down on the sofa next to Magenta and makes himself at home. Dahlia and Wyatt remained standing, awkwardly staring at the man who was stretched out and relaxed in front of them. "Are you two gonna stand there all day? Because it is quite unnerving."
The tributes sit down quickly, backs a little straighter than before. Magenta shuffles away from Alaric before plastering a fake smile on his face. "Tributes, this is your mentor and the sole cause of my migraines, Alaric Silvers. He's supposed to help you but I wouldn't hold your breath."
"You flatter me, Magenta." Alaric grumbles in annoyance with a roll of his eyes, before he notices Dahlia and Wyatt still staring at him. "What are you two wanting?"
"Advice, help... Maybe something useful if it's not too much trouble." Dahlia replies snarkily, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Alaric scoffs out a laugh before leaning forward. "You want some helpful advice? Want to know all the secrets?" He asks in a taunting voice. "Nobody ever wins the games. The odds are never in our favour. The only thing you can do is hope that your death is quick and painless."
"I did tell you not to hold your breath." Magenta reminds them with a sigh as Alaric reclines into his seat.
But Dahlia doesn't back down that easily. "So why are you mentoring us if the only advice you have is 'die quickly'?"
"Because I am forced to." Alaric snaps harshly, his eyes burning with a raging fury. "You think I want to do this every year? Send another pair of children to their inevitable death? Knowing that nothing I can say or do them will save their lives?" Wyatt slouches further into the seat, as if he is willing it to swallow him whole. "This will be my last year of mentoring. I don't care what Snow says. Someone else will take over. I am done." With that, he storms out of the compartment with heavy footsteps.
"Well... That went better than it usually does." Magenta breaks the awkward silence with a forced laugh. "Oh! I know! Let's watch the other Reapings. You'll need to find out who your competitors are."
"No thanks." Wyatt mumbles, pushing himself to his feet. His previously neat hair now flops in his face, covering his red-rimmed eyes. "I don't particularly want to see them more than I have to. But you, Little Miss Winner, go right ahead."
Dahlia is glad the boy has left. She doesn't want his negative outlook ruining her determination. She has to get home. She will get home. "Let's see these other tributes then." She tells Magenta, who smiles at her eagerness. "And you will tell me everything you know."
They started at the beginning, District One. There weren't many surprises here. Volunteers, as usual. Careers, as usual. The boy, Apollo, looked fearsome and strong. A true-born fighter. He oozed confidence as he volunteered in place of a younger boy who was nowhere near as nervous as the children in District Five. They knew there was a high chance they wouldn't be going into the games so they didn't have as much to fear. The girl, Crystal, was tall and lean. She had a doll-like face framed by fluttering blonde lashes. She blew kisses to the crowd and seemed to glow with the radiance of the sun. A beautiful but potentially deadly duo.
District Two also had a good chance of winning this year. A muscular boy, who looked much older than 18, laughed menacingly as he approached the stage. Ryker seemed a little on the insane side as he roared like a beast to the cheers of onlookers. Dahlia knew the Capitol would love him. He was certainly a frontrunner for the title of Victor. But his district partner had a quiet confidence that could not be ignored. Victoria was smaller than the other careers, but that didn't mean she was less intimidating. A red-painted smirk rested permanently on her lips as she stood proudly before her district.
District Three was known more for their intelligence than their combat, much like District Five. Their male tribute, Glitch, was not much younger than the Careers but his weaker frame and bewildered expression gave away his terror. He was unprepared for these games and he would not win based purely on fighting skills. The female was a few years younger than her partner, probably around the same age as Dahlia. Elektra had a petite face and wide eyes that seemed to brim with tears. Neither of them had volunteered and they both didn't seem to have high hopes of survival.
District Four's male tribute was a volunteer. A young boy, Caspian, with too much confidence than he knows what to do with. It is obvious he hopes to repeat what Finnick Odair had managed the year before and bring home a win for District Four. Despite Caspian being older than Finnick was in his games, Dahlia didn't find herself as taken with him as much. He seemed like a young boy hungry for glory but she wasn't sure he would get it. Cove, their female tribute, was not a volunteer but didn't seem overly shocked that her name was called. She didn't cry, she didn't scream. She just calmly took her place on the stage.
Dahlia refused to watch her own district's reaping, no matter how much Magenta pestered. He thought she was shaken at the idea of hearing her sister's name being called, but really it was so she didn't have to watch Wyatt's embarrassing display. She could only hope no one chooses to associate them with each other. She can't count on him to be an ally.
From there on, all the tributes were reaped with no volunteers. District Six produced two tributes close to Dahlia's age. The boy's name was Diesel, which Dahlia thought matched the dark shade of his hair. The girl, Vega, was very pretty but her hands trembled as she shook Diesel's hand. There wasn't much threat from these two.
District Seven's male was a large boy called Matthias. He had obviously spent his life working in the lumber industry as he had sturdy arm muscles and rough, calloused hands. Dahlia made sure to note that he could be potentially lethal with an axe. His partner, Cedar, was a small girl with spindly limbs and teary eyes. She was a lot younger than the male, who towered over her frame. But he had kind eyes and a brotherly nature as he rubbed her shoulder soothingly.
Tanner from District Eight had a youthful face despite his tall figure. His innocent eyes were glassy with tears but he refused to cry. The quiver of his bottom lip betrayed his emotions, letting people see his true fear. The female was older with wild, untamed hair. Jean had a slender build with long limbs and her shoulders tensed any time someone approached.
District Nine's tributes were the youngest of the lot, with the boy being the only 12-year old in the pack. Pip was small, even for his age, and immediately began sobbing as soon as his name was called. The escort tried her best to calm him down but the poor boy broke down onstage. The female tribute, Zea, was only a year older and looked just as terrified to be chosen. A woman, presumably her mother, yelled loudly for the girl and had to be restrained by numerous peacekeepers.
District Ten's male tribute, Butch, didn't quite live up to his name. He was on the skinny side with not a lot of meat on his bones. He tripped on the stairs as he made his way up and could barely fumble a coherent reply to the escort asking him questions. The female, although younger, fared much better. Artemis was a feisty little girl with a surprising amount of confidence. She glared at the peacekeepers around her with an unspoken anger and answered the escort with sharp retorts.
Bracken from District Eleven had a tall, muscular body but a childlike gaze. He looked close to fainting when his name was announced and had to be coaxed out from the crowd by the escort. He definitely wasn't the brightest in the bunch, which was a shame, as Dahlia thought he would stand a fair chance if he had half a brain. Although the girl, Chia, had a petite build with a weathered face, she seemed nimble and quick. Her arms had defined muscles from climbing trees and her legs were scattered with scrapes from the branches.
Finally, District Twelve. Jett was a slim boy with dirt covering his hands. He had very pale skin which made the coal dust seem more prominent. Dahlia wasn't sure if his hair was naturally black or if he hadn't washed the ashes from it. The girl, Cinda, had darker skin with wild brown curls contained by a hair tie. She stared off into the distance as if lost in a trance and seemed to already know this would be the last time she'd see her district.
Dahlia knew not to underestimate anyone, especially before she'd seen them in the training room. But she had an idea of who the favourites were going to be. And she was going to make sure she was one of them.