༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
[𝐢𝐢. 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰]
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 , 2700

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The low hum of the engine hummed within the walls while the rhythmic thud of wheels passing over joints created an uncomfortable cadence.

Wren sat cross legged on the silky sheets draped over a mattress of such luxury, the red head swore it must have been stuffed with swan feathers or some other rare animal.

Her eyes were glued towards the sleek television set that boasted a high definition display of the reaping from each district.

The screen, encased in an intricate frame, was the only sort of light in the carriage Wren had been designated.

Night had fallen, leading Wren and Niko a step towards game day.

"Of course, we'll be paying a visit to District One first..."

Wren began to pay attention at Ceaser Flickerman's introduction. Knowledge held just as much power as strength. Wren needed to gather as much information about her opponents if she wanted to keep Niko alive.

District one had a very different view on these games than the others. At least that's what it looked like to someone who wasn't smart enough to see through the facade.

The Capitol's camera captured every detail. The escort, a flamboyant figure, carried out his job with the same mannerisms Cherry had, something Wren picked up on and in doing so, softened her opinions towards Cherry.

The first tribute was called, she stepped forward with an uneven ratio of pride and trepidation. The camera zoomed in, awaiting the crumbs of anything that would appease the audience.

Isadora Velvet was her name, her striking features and piercing azure eyes projected an air of regal confidence. She was well kept, well looked after, well trained.

The second tribute, Sebastian Valor, carried himself with unmistakable arrogance. It was clear this was a long time coming for him. Tall and broad-shouldered with defined muscles, he looked the perfect warrior. But, there was something that Wren noticed. Something that dented his deadly appearance.

As the camera focused on the boy, something stuck out. A barely noticeable scar on his left hand, though he'd attempt to conceal it, one District Eight girl had very quickly acknowledged it and if she had that easily, the rest of the tributes had done the same.

Ceaser continued to cycle through the districts, applying commentary in every spare moment.

Wren watched with a grim pout displayed, hating that she was devising ways to kill the other tributes at the same time as feeling immense sorrow for them. It was sick.

She'd ignored her own reaping, using the time to go to the bathroom. After only just settling back on the bed, the carriage door opened with a distinctive mechanical whirr.

"Hello." A small voice spoke.

Wren smiled weakly at Niko as he hopped from one foot to the other awkwardly at the other end of the room.

"You okay," Wren began to ask before a well acquainted with wave of reality washed over her, "Sorry, stupid question."

Niko nodded feebly, still loitering unhelpfully, so, the older girl beckoned him over and patted the space next to her. The two of them positioned themselves facing each other, both cross legged.

"You don't like anyone very much, do you?" Niko whispered, his question catching Wren by surprise until she told herself she barley knew this boy, she shouldn't really be expecting anything of him.

"I...do..." Wren defended herself unconvincingly, provoking a very small grin from the boy. It was hardly a grin but, it was something that lifted Wren's shoulders.

"Don't lie," Niko giggled lightly, shifting closer to Wren on the bed, "You're a bitch."

Wren let out an astounded scoff at the forward remark, narrowing her eyes playfully at the boy, "Isn't it past your bed time?"

Lifting his chin haughtily, eyes crinkled, Niko shook his head defiantly, "You don't scare me."

"I should scare you."

Niko tilted his head. He had a glint in his eye that made Wren feel slightly on edge, he was reading her. "You may look scary but, I know you're really a cuddly teddy bear."

"And why is that?" Wren leaned forward, intrigued. The incessant clacking of the wheels agains the tracks seemed to have drowned out now, the conversation dominating the dimly lit room.

Nodding, Niko continued, his voice had not broken yet so, he spoke softly and delicately, reminding Wren just how out of place and vulnerable he was going to be in the dreaded arena.

"You remind me of the stars. When you see stars in the sky at night time, they don't appear dangerous even though they have the capability to send solar flares down to earth and asteroids intending to kill hundreds. They're beautiful, a natural phenomenon. My teacher says they are a symbol of kindness as well as ferocity."

Subtle radiance enveloped Wren, Niko's words taking the edge off her hardened posture. As the moment lingered, the atmosphere seemed to hold a touch of magic—the alchemy of kind words baffling Wren, so much so she only laughed.

"Okay, now it's definitely your bedtime."

Niko huffed, rolling off the bed. As he shuffled towards the carriage door, Wren spotted his arms creeping emptily around his stomach. He was missing something.

"I'll ask Cecelia to see if she can send back for your toy."

Niko stopped in his tracks, turning back around in surprise. "How did you know?"

Wren winked smugly, "A bitch always knows."

Stuttering, Niko tried to form an incredulous exclamation but Wren cut him off.

"Good night, Niko."

Niko shook his head as he gave up. "Good night, Star girl."

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The air reeked with the awkwardness of impeding death and it disliked Cecelia, Wren and Niko strongly.

The heaps of breakfast delicacies were untouched, plates resembling mirrors and shining cutlery.

One of the worst aspects of this job, if you could call it that, was the preparation. Cece hated the fact her kind tongue was to depict a strategy plan that would help children kill eachother.

So, she sat and stared at the pair for as long as she allowed herself before she realised the longer she stalled, the less time she had to look after these kids.

Wren and Niko stared intently as Cece cleared her throat, re adjusting her hand placement once again against the table.

"I've seen many games and i've had many tributes. There is one thing i tell them all despite the fact no one ever listens. Unity is the most powerful weapon. Tributes are too...focused on murder aspect to think strategically which is what will ultimately get you far."

Cecelia's words crumbled into a silence, the stares and intensity of kids was something she could not get used to, nor could she forget. The hope, and the defeat that bled through their pupils.

"Is that it?" Wren questioned scornfully, "Please tell me you got more than that."

Cecelia's eyes flickered innocently towards Wren, swallowing the huge lump in her throat, "Yes...yes, of course."

"Remember, strength comes not just from physical prowess, but also from resilience and strategy. Trust your instincts, they know you best."

Niko coughed awkwardly, rolling his hands against his worn out jeans. "I- i can't run."

His voice was so quiet, so naive, it was almost missed.

"What?" Cecelia prompted the boy to speak up.

"I can't run. I broke my leg when i was younger and i never fully recovered. I- I can't run!"

Niko's voice had suddenly amplified, filling the carriage with his broken words that tore into dry sobs. He rose up quickly, dashing out of the room, the sound of his cries echoing behind him.

Cecelia shook her head, running a tired, shaky hand through her golden hair.

As Wren observed her from across the carriage, she noticed the subtle fractures in Cecelia's demeanour, the weariness that lingered in his eyes. It was as if a veil had lifted, revealing a depth of pain she hadn't seen before. This was the catalyst that knocked the wall that Wren had built every so slightly.

A new form of willingness that she felt she owed to Cecelia and Niko overcame her.

"I'm strong." Wren bit down her pride, allowing her cooperation to take its place, "I'm strong and i can fight."

Cecelia blinked in surprise, having revived only reluctant arrogance from the red head so far.

"Uh," She stuttered, resetting herself to deliver the proper advice expected from her, "Well, physical strength is a formidable asset that can significantly enhance a tribute's chances of survival."

Wren cocked her head to the side, it was almost like Cecelia had and an on and off switch. Pawn and Human.

"A strong tribute possesses the ability to endure the physical demands of the arena, whether it's navigating challenging terrains, engaging in hand-to-hand combat, or withstanding harsh conditions.."

"Okay- stop, stop. Stop with this robot shit. Talk to me properly. Use your own words, please."

Cecelia's guarded facade began to crack, the vulnerability in her eyes betrayed a depth of emotion. Her words stumbled, caught in a web of uncertainty.

"I- uh," The blonde stuttered, her tongue a prisoner in her to her words. Yet, she persevered, fighting against the silence Wren threatened to envelope her in. "The other tributes, especially from one and two,"

She searched for understanding in Wren's eyes, "They won't expect you to be strong. Use that smartly. Play the part of the weak, quiet District 8 girl during training."

Wren's complexion moulded into a thankful expression as she mulled over the advice, tossing the words over in her head.

It was strategic planning, to feign weakness and conceal her true abilities. That way, with her false perception, she had what was very rare. An advantage.

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The roars and shrieks of the Capitol strangled the two District Eight tributes from inside the train. The sound wrangled at their throats and ripped at their ears.

Wren and Niko stood beside each-other, staring absently at the huge carriage door that shielded a writhing mass of sickeningly desperate respondents of the Capitol.

The rhythmic clatter of wheels subsides, replaced by a screams. The anxious  glances at the doors intensified, a collective pause before the impending release. As the doors open, a surge of movement ensues and Wren and Niko of pushed out of the carriage and into the blinding world of riches.

The cameras arrived in the kid's faces immediately, Niko only just managed to catch a hold of Wren's clammy hand. They shuffled along a grande train platform of gold.

"Wave, Lovebugs!" Cherry ordered, grinning her signature smile and winking at the lively crowd.

Wren glanced down at Niko, observing his rose-tainted cheeks. He needed sponsors, he needed everything he could to survive.

She nudged the boy gently, "Go on."

At Wren's whisper, Niko shyly lifted his arm, keeping it tucked into his side, and slowly waved at the crowd who gushed over him excitedly.

Wren, however, did the opposite, tightening her grip on Niko's hand and glueing her face and body language into one emotionless guise.

"Oh, look at his dimples!" Wren heard someone shriek.

"And look at her sour face." Another retorted.

"My, hasn't she got colourful hair? Natural as well!"

"What rotten garments they have, District Eight did you say?"

"I adore the little boy, look at him smile!"

"I like the girl. She looks so brave!"

A wave of unusual self-consciousness washed over Wren, cause of the numerous eyes transfixed on her. It was like a spotlight magnified her every moved.

The weight of the judging gazes became staggering for Wren and Niko very quickly and they struggled to maintain their composure.

Luckily, the pair were guided away, their feet moving fast from the mob of spectators.

Hand in hand they remained as they were escorted into a towering building worthy of their marvelled stares. A congregation of stoney faced guards pushed the heavy, shining metal doors open, revealing a opulent foyer, adorned with sparkling chandeliers and polished marble floors.

Navigating through the maze-like building, Wren couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. And, of course, she was. She spotted cameras around every corner, all trained on herself and Niko.

There was nowhere to hide, no concealed corner to whisper secrets. The Capitol could see and hear everything now.

Second by second, Wren's power was struck, hit, ripped, bartered. Slowly, very slowly, she was becoming another pawn.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Wren's first impression of Ebony Flocking was one of which she applied to most residents of the capitol.

He was a tall, pristine man, hair infested with solidified gel and suit fitted impeccably.

"Pretty girl!" He cooed the second he stepped into the lab-like room. And from those two words, Wren recognised the juxtaposition of his person and his appearance.

"And such fiery, beautiful hair," He dipped his fingers softly into her natural curls.

Directing his attention from her stand out features, he turned kind eyes towards Wren's.

"My name's Ebony, i've been appointed as your stylist. And damn i've got lucky, Sugar. A gorgeous girl from a fashion district, the things i could do."

Wren carefully bit back a small smile that the man's persona had unearthed.

"But, i must say, i wish it was under... better circumstances."

Wren hummed in distasteful agreement, "I'm Wren."

Ebony nodded, carefully tugging off his suite jacket and folding it over a lavish makeup chair, "I assume my team have had you waxed and washed."

Wren snorted, flattening her palms against her knees and shifting in her comfortable seat, "Yeah, and it was fuckin' horrific."

"A potty mouth," Ebony observed, "That's not very District Eight of you?"

Rolling her eyes, Wren scoffed at the stereotypes. She was a young girl from the fashion district, she was expected to be gentle, kind, sweet. A direct contrast with the girl Wren was.

"So, about your costume, Wren," Ebony smacked his lips together, sitting on the makeup chair that held his expensive jacket and crossing one leg over the other.

"You'll meet my partner, a gorgeous seamstress that goes by the name of Stitch. You'll make acquaintances with her soon enough. Together we've concocted the most perfect outfit. A stunning dress crafted from luxurious silk."

Wren hummed, masking the small inkling that drew her to the thought of a gorgeous dress.

The room began to feel hot and Wren's skin sticky. She tried to ignore the nauseating premonitions at the thought of being dolled up and paraded around in front of the eager eyes of the capital.

She'd already caught a glimpse of what it would be like when she'd arrived on the striking train platform.

"Would you like to see a glimpse of your gown?" Ebony offered, gesturing to a small hatch in the wall, around five feet away from them, guarded by steel, bolted doors.

Wren nodded before she could stop herself, her intrigue overcoming her arrogance momentarily.

Ebony jabbed at a small screen clasped around his pale wrist and a robotic noise beeped from it.

The small doors sprung back with a jolt, and steam escaped from the pistons. Wren squinted her eyes through the cloud that had formed in front of her.

A glint of light cut through it and when the smoke cleared, Wren almost stepped back in awe and she would have if she hadn't held more pride than love in her heart.

A tall mannequin stood superciliously on a pedestal, a ball gown clung onto it, layers of skirts cascaded onto the polished floor. Dazzling sequins had been embroidered onto the soft silk, beams from the overhead bounced off them. It was magnificent, magical.

"My, don't you think it would suit you majestically." Ebony commented, the glittering illumination framing his face.

Eyebrows pinched together, Wren fought the urge to cry at the thought. This was the sort of garments she used to make with her mother and sister as child before the factories ravaged.

It was a garment from the old factory her mother had worked at. She would be wearing a piece of her mother's during the parade.

Ebony braved a small smile as he watched the recognition on the young girl's face.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
bet you didn't expect this update!
i had an urge to write this again, i'll try and keep some sort of consistency but i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!