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CALM BEFORE
THE STORM
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CASSIAN WHIRLS AROUND to face Cecelia and Woof almost immediately after the train's doors slam shut and Cabel leaves to find alcohol. "So, what's your play?"
Ontari sighs, feeling the tension thicken in the small compartment as her brother's angered eyes sweep between their two ex-mentors. "Cassian—"
"No." He holds a hand out to her. She doesn't remember the last time she's seen him so confrontational with anyone; the Quarter Quell must be already taking its toll on him. "I want to know who paid you to keep your mouths shut."
Cecelia's mouth is set into a thin line. She's usually calm, but her fierceness is nothing but apparent in this moment. "You do what you have to in order to survive. We did what we had to."
Woof shakes his head, putting a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "No, that's not why we stayed quiet. What CeCe means is that— well, look at us. I'm an old man. Cecelia just had children. You two are young, spirited, full of the vitality that is exactly what this revolution needs. If someone is going to spark a change, it isn't going to be us."
Ontari doesn't blame her former mentors and long-time friends for what they did. The twinge of betrayal she first felt during the reaping has faded away after Woof's explanation, evaporating as she realizes he's right. The two youngest victors of their district are most likely to survive. Not only that, but they both have enough anger and allies to get the job done. Johanna Mason, Annie, Wiress, Beetee, Finnick. It has to be them.
She shifts so she's facing Cassian, who's glaring a hole into the carpeted floor. "Think, Cass. Woof is right. It's like I said before: what better way to destroy the Capitol than to do it in their own Games?"
Her brother stays quiet, mouth twisting into an unsure expression.
"They have a new Gamemaker," Woof explains, clearly hoping to win him over. "His name is Plutarch Heavensbee, and rumors say that he's..." his voice drops despite the fact that they're alone, "more than willing to aid us."
Cassian tilts his head to the side suspiciously. "And who told you that?"
"Paylor," the man answers immediately, effectively shutting down the younger one's suspicions.
Paylor — or, as she's becoming known to be — Commander Paylor, is the leader and organizer of the uprisings in District Eight. She's a swift, direct woman whose sometimes brutal honesty cannot be doubted. If something comes out of Paylor's mouth, it's always true.
"The other reapings will be played soon," Ontari reminds them as a way to change the subject. Once Cassian mulls their situation over, he'll be less hostile. "We should watch to see who we're up against."
She places a gentle hand on her brother's arm, guiding him toward the back of the train where the sitting room with the television is. She'd told a half-lie; the reapings won't be played until about another hour. The time zones are different in each district. However, she knows that they'll have been planned enough to all happen as simultaneously as they could make them. Eight's had happened in the afternoon, but for places like Four and Ten, it's late morning. All they have to do is wait for the Capitol technicians to stitch together the footage.
Cabel joins them for the display. Cassian sits beside him, appearing more than slightly uncomfortable as the recap begins. Ontari immediately realizes that they're not the only siblings to be reaped once more— Cashmere and Gloss from District One clasp hands and brutally smile at the cameras. Brutus from Two volunteers greedily. Wiress and Beetee from Three are selected.
Ontari's heart gives a terrible clench as Finnick's name is called and he waves to the adoring crowd, his familiar dimpled grin stretching his lips. But she can tell that his eyes are empty. As almost every head in the compartment turns to her to gauge her reaction, she forces a neutral expression onto her face despite the fact she wants to throw something.
It breaks the instant Annie's name is called. The girl gives a terrified screech that chills Ontari to the bone, but a second later, Mags silently volunteers to take her place and hobbles up to the escort. Her white, frizzing hair is held back in a single clip at the nape of her neck. She grips onto a cane for dear life. The frail, gnarled, lovely woman whom Ontari has come to love.
"Oh, no," Woof whispers somberly. Everyone knows that Mags has just sealed her own coffin. At eighty, there's almost no possible way she can survive another Games.
Cabel wipes his tearful eyes with a golden handkerchief. "She's so brave."
Ontari watches as another friend, Johanna Mason, takes the stage. She doesn't smile. Her thin lips are set in a defiant scowl, eyes blazing as they sweep around the jeering crowd.
District Eight is next. Ontari barely recognizes herself. Of course, she vividly remembers every ounce of cold fear that had encased her as she walked to Cabel's side, but none of that shows on her face. She appears triumphant. Etheral. Cassian takes his place at her side, a small smirk pulling up his lips. Secretive and mysterious— the role he has been trained to play.
Katniss Everdeen is the only female victor from Twelve. Haymitch Abernathy's name is called next, and Ontari hears Cabel gasp as Peeta immediately volunteers in place of him. Katniss doesn't attempt to mask the fear on her face as the blond-haired boy steps stoically up to Effie Trinket's side.
Cabel starts sobbing.
"These will be the best Games ever!" the female announcer, who is also in tears after the star-crossed lovers' reapings, exclaims thickly. Cecelia reaches for the remote controller and switches the television off.
Cabel flees the room, blowing his nose into his handkerchief and making as much noise as he can while doing so. Wolf stands as soon as he leaves. He closes the compartment door behind the escort and faces the Nightfall siblings.
"Your best bets are to go with the people you already know will team up with you," he explains, and his advisory tone is so familiar that the ache in Ontari's heart increases. She remembers when he'd given her tips during her first Games as well. "Johanna, Beetee, Wiress, Mags, Finnick."
"That's what we planned," Cassian confirms with a nod. He's resting his elbows on his knees, hands rubbing together to keep them busy.
"Maybe they should throw Twelve in there," Cecelia suggests casually.
"The star-crossed lovers?" Cassian demands with a raise of his eyebrows. "Everyone will be out to get them, which would make them out to get us."
"They defied the Capitol once," Ontari reminds him thoughtfully. "Who says they can't do it again?"
Her brother gives her a disbelieving look, his mouth open in a gape. "You're kidding."
"Keeping them alive is a good plan," she argues.
"It's a suicidal plan."
Ontari makes a face at him. She recalls Woof's reasoning from a few hours ago, when he'd explained that she and Cassian are much younger and more agile than him and Cecelia. Katniss and Peeta are even younger. The horror from their Games last year is still fresh on their minds. They'd only just come back from their Victory Tour a few months ago; they never got the chance to try and be normal again. Surely that must fuel their fire enough to get them even angrier at Snow. And the other victors could use that anger.
"The Girl on Fire is your best bet," Cecelia adds, "but without the Baker Boy, she's nothing. She proved that. So if you keep both of them alive, you keep this revolution going."
Ontari glances at her brother. He's staring at his hands, folded together, and his eyebrows are pinched in thought. Everyone allows him a few moments to himself before he speaks. "Alright. We'll take the kids under our wings— it'll be less people trying to kill us."
But underneath his excuse for agreeing, she can tell he's thinking deeply about them being the face of the rebellion. Not him and his sister. Not the ones who have spent their entire lives participating in small rallies and trade blocks against the Capitol. They'd be handing over their life's work to two children.
"Good." Woof opens the compartment door. "I'm going to find a nice bottle of whiskey and then take a nap. You should do the same."
-:-
Ontari sits, legs folded beneath her and hand supporting her chin, in the back of the train. She watches silently as the districts pass by. Buildings, endless stretches of grass, and several lakes all turn into mere blurs of color to her unfocused eyes.
She traces her fingers along the cool glass as she ponders her current situation. Tomorrow, they will arrive in the Capitol during the early hours of the morning. She can never be herself from that point on. Here, in the few peaceful hours not spent around Cabel, she can allow her mask to drop.
There used to be times when Ontari wouldn't be able to distinguish her Capitol-forged identity from her real one. She'd emerge from weekends at the city with anxiety attacks, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and tugging, hating herself, and trying to fill the empty shell inside of her body. She spent so long pretending to be someone, knowing that dropping the façade would mean damage for herself and her family, that she had trouble remembering that she could relax when at home.
As long as she kept having to sell herself to highly-ranked men and women in the Capitol, she'll keep hating it. She knows that others would be suffering at the government's hands no matter what.
There's a rustle at the door. Ontari jumps and jerks her head back, only to discover Cecelia hovering in the doorway. She's changed out of her reaping ceremony attire and now lounges in a more casual jumpsuit and sturdy boots. She appears much more like the young mother she is.
"I wanted to apologize," she says carefully, her voice low, "for lashing out earlier. I already spoke with Cassian" — Ontari scoffs because 'speaking' with Cassian when he's angry is like trying to hold a conversation with a solid brick wall — "and I hope you'll understand."
Cecelia crosses the small room until she's sitting on the cushion next to Ontari, who positions herself to face her friend. The young woman is the epitome of grace even without anyone watching. Her back is ruler-straight — probably a side-effect from hard discipline in the factory she used to work at — and calloused hands placed dutifully in her lap. Her fingers are slightly crooked from breaking them on the machines long ago. Ontari flickers her gaze from them.
"I'm afraid, and I didn't want to admit it," Cecelia begins, her words slow and careful. Ontari can tell how much it takes her to say them. "I fear for my children, what it would mean if I got reaped again, and what I said wasn't fair to you. You have family, too. You and Cassian don't deserve to lose each other. That's why you have to contact Heavensbee. Whatever his plan is, and I'm sure he has one, will likely get the two of you out of this alive."
Ontari recalls what she's seen of the new Gamemaker. It's little — snippets of him on the Capitol Report when her parents would have it on — but enough to know that, on the outside, he appears to be another one of Snow's diabolical puppets. But maybe it's his disguise.
Woof and Cecelia wouldn't lie to her. Neither would Commander Paylor.
"Okay," she agrees. "We'll talk to him."
"Good." Cecelia nods, a relieved smile appearing on her face. She stands and extends a hand. "Apple pie as a peace offering?"
Ontari cannot pass up dessert.
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these chapters are pretty short because i want to have enough time to space things out evenly and i don't want to cram you guys with a ton of stuff at once. most likely, there will be a variation in the lengths of the chapters!
the next chapter is jam-packed with the opening ceremony and may or may not have some finnick action (;
-kristyn