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Post by Seryna on Apr 2, 2012 0:15:14 GMT -5
After the first day of training, all of the tributes were advised to meet with their mentors over dinner for a strategy session. Jace and his partner went up to the dining room where a full dinner was laid out before them. The center of the table had several chickens, a turret of lamb stew and a rack of ribs. Several plates of rolls, roasted potatoes and steamed asparagus ringed them.
Only three chairs were set; the absence of the frivolous stylist team was an obvious choice.
The district 9 victor, Lyme, was standing behind her chair; facing away from you. You recall little of her Games from nine years ago; for you had been young then. You do remember talk that her favored weapon had been a hatchet; a hatchet that she had also used to carve a shelter out of the evergreen trees that flecked the arena of the 16th Hunger Games.
She glanced at you with a long look. "I am Lyme," She greets them. "Come, start eating. Good meals aren't plentiful in the arena. "
Lyme took her seat, helping herself to a chicken. "This first day has to have opened your eyes to some things. What have you seen today?" "Do you have any questions for me?" Lyme opened with a question. Last year, her tributes had placed fairly close to the victor. She seemed to have rethought her strategy this year.
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QuinnTalon
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Post by QuinnTalon on Apr 2, 2012 7:04:30 GMT -5
They took his clothes.
The threadbare things he wore on Sundays and on other days where 'nice' clothes were important. The nice clothes that his older brother had worn, and before that a cousin and before that any member of their family who had been wiry and lithe enough to fit into them.
Jan had never worn them. He'd always been a bit too broad.
They'd also trimmed his hair. Commented on his eyes and how to make them seem more intense for the interviews. 'That olive skin and with black hair, with those ice-blue eyes...how utterly marvelous!' and he wanted to spit in the girl's face who said it.
His stylist--the actual one--seemed to understand his sinking appreciation for silence, and had only whispered instructions. The others just didn't seem to understand.....
So he's in this vibrant blue shirt and slacks that are too well made and at the same time too soft. He feels like at any moment he's going to tear them or something. His hands feel funny because the callouses have been 'buffed' away for the most part. Soft. His nails? Trimmed and filed and shiny.
He almost didn't recognize himself in the mirror.
Still, the scent of all that food makes his stomach turn. Hungry. He'd never seen so much food in one place for only a few people. There was no way three of them would eat all that. Where would they take the rest of it because surely they wouldn't want it to go to waste. Food never went to waste in District 9.
There's a soft tilt of his head and Lyme sits. Takes a chicken and starts carving into it and he steps around the table to one of the chairs and for all the world has no idea where to start. Small portions, his father had advised. So much good food, he wasn't used to. IF he ate too much too fast, it'd make him sick.
A roasted potato. A roll. A half a bowl of lamb stew. 'Eat slow, but take as much as you can.'
Like Lyme said: There wasn't much in the way of 'good meals' in the Arena.
"Everyone has so much...." It's softly spoken. He'd always been somewhat soft-spoken. "....everything."
For lack of a better word.
But this was someone who'd survived the Arena. He should use that. Take in as much as he could because it might save his life. "I'm not sure what to ask. There's so much and at the same time it all seems so stupid. I would ask...what do I have to do to win, but you probably don't have enough time to tell me.
"So...can you help me have a ghost of a chance? That's all I want to know. I'll listen and take in everything you say and I promise it won't fall on deaf ears. You'll see. I'm a good listener."
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Post by Seryna on Apr 2, 2012 17:57:24 GMT -5
Lyme nodded, picking apart her chicken. She didn't eat it so much as concentrate on dissecting it into easily edible bite - sized portions. She seemed to use it as a focus as she addressed you.
"I won't have to tell you to eat as much as you can manage. Gaining weight in these next few weeks can always help you. Don't worry about getting fat, you'll have plenty of time to train in the training center."
She evaluated you - and you noticed, your plate. Lyme didn't find any thing to criticize and continued. "The best thing that 9 did last year was ally," She noted. "- the alliance kept them from being ganged up on, fed and safe until the shark tore them away from one another. Have you considered if you want to form an alliance? Using the time in the training center to find someone with skills you lack could help you."
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QuinnTalon
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Post by QuinnTalon on Apr 2, 2012 19:25:39 GMT -5
"I haven't had time to really think of anything since...." Since The Reaping. "...But...alliances. I know I'm going to need something to survive."
It only made sense. Having someone watch his back would be good. AT least in the beginning. At least until it became apparent that they would have to turn on each other.
And how horrible was it, that he knew eventually it would come to that. It would have to for it all to end. Assuming, of course, he survived that long.
...He had to survive that long.
"I always left the 'people person' sort of thing to my..." They'd always come as a pair, and everyone knew it. "...An alliance. I can do that."
He'd have to.
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Post by Seryna on Apr 3, 2012 0:30:22 GMT -5
"You may have to." Lyme responds. "Singer & Bobbeh chose well. You'll need to determine who has what you need, if you're compatible... and of course, you need to know when you have to leave them. Singer decided to turn on her alliance to survive, but not many have the stomach for that."
She states, watching Jace. She seems comfortable with the silence, letting Jace decide how to continue the conversation.
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QuinnTalon
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Post by QuinnTalon on Apr 3, 2012 7:53:28 GMT -5
He didn't see himself turning on anyone. He saw himself taking his fair share of the food--maybe a little bit less--and quietly disappearing from the group. One moment he's there, and the next he's gone.
If he won, he didn't want to be known as 'ruthless' or 'cruel'. He wanted to be known as someone who did what he had to do to survive and in the end had done right by those people who'd trusted him, right up until they could no longer be together. Right up until the end, when they were the few he hadn't eventually gone after.
If he lost?
He wanted the Victor--hopefully someone he'd once trusted--to remember him as 'Jace, who could sing.' Not 'District 9's Boy, who was good with at betraying the group'.
Maybe he 'wanted' too much.
Maybe he 'gave' too much.
Maybe he 'cared' too much.
"I'll keep my eyes open." He wouldn't end up with the Careers. He'd seen how others had ended up when they'd done that. He wouldn't let his death mean nothing, if he had to die.
"Sponsors: ya think you can help me get those? What do I have to do?"
Likely not be as 'forgettable', for one.
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Post by Seryna on Apr 3, 2012 13:04:13 GMT -5
"Sponsors I can help you with." She replies. "To get something really helpful, you need to give me an angle. The first time you can work on that is at the interview. They'll ask you about your life at home. Possibly ask you about your strategy; or what you dread most about the arena. Those were favorite questions last year."
Bobbeh of course, had feared the mutations most. He had good cause to for it had been the mammoth shark mutation that had killed him; as well as his alliance partner Vibrance.
"We need to decide on a way to answer these sorts of questions in a way that support your angle. We won't go with strong... or overly prepared..." She lapses into silence, considering you.
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Post by Seryna on Apr 4, 2012 11:08:40 GMT -5
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