gemmarosewater

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"Not all of it," Gemma replied, "but where I live, yes, it's a city. Not quite the same." She didn't want to admit that it was shabbier, poorer. One was the best of the Districts and still did not hold a candle to the Capitol. That had become most clear no her arrival here. She was quick to add, "But of course it's not as nice, it's District. Shouldn't be as nice."

"sounds great." Linden shrugged, walking a pace behind Gemma, just trusting that she had any idea where the food would be. "one's a city too, isn't it? Anything like this?" Linden had never conceived of buildings this tall before, although she was used to height surrounding her, it was usually living trees, not cold walls.

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"There's glory in sacrifice for the greater good," Gemma responded. "You say all perspectives should be heard, we're all equal, but that Panem should triumph through it all. Of course it will -- but the cost of having rebels get their propaganda into the Games is high. Lots of lives are lost. Not all perspectives should be shared because we aren't all the same."

Heads on sticks. This tribute was certainly something. Denver had never ben a fan of the folks who glorified the Games. "It was never about glory," Denver said. "Maybe to the Victors themselves, but the Games are so much greater than that. It's not glory. It's sacrifice. And that means that all the political perspectives need to be heard, to show that we're all the same. Because in the Arena, you are all the same. You are no different than someone from District Twelve. A Victor wins, but it's Panem that triumphs, and that's what matters."

She felt a bit silly getting up on her high horse about this - she and the tribute were largely on the same page, just reading from different perspectives, it seemed, but Denver couldn't help it, not with the crack about not caring about the merchandise. This girl clearly cared about the merchandise. She was literally just asking about it. And Denver refused to be looked down on by someone who wasn't even a customer.

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Gemma laughed freely at that. "Well then we have that in common," she said. "Our mutual dislike of a self-centered bitch." She had been called self-centered plenty of times in her life, but she didn't view herself that way. A bitch, on the other hand -- that, she was. "As for choices I can live with -- I'm not worried about that. This is the Hunger Games. It's supposed to be brutal. I'll do what I have to."

"I can only give you advice, the final decision is yours in the arena. Just make choices you know you can live with. A lot of Victors get haunted by the faces they see in the arena." Sheen shockingly was not one of them, he was haunted more by the arena itself. Sometimes he felt bad over it, other times he told himself he had done nothing wrong, and shouldn't feel guilty for not feeling guilty.....all he did was survive. He rolled his eyes at the mention of the girl from Three. "Everything I have heard against her has been against my will. If you or Jade take her out, let's just say I will put in extra work to show my thanks. She has no reason to be as cocky as she is."

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"I truly want your thoughts," Gemma replied, "whether I'll like them or not. Life doesn't always give you what you want and it certainly hasn't for me. So what do you got for me?" She didn't want to share her own strategy, not entirely trusting of Cress despite the admiration that she felt.

"I don't think you'll like the answer," Cress replied, drawing in a deep breath, though with the pressure on her lungs, no bid for air ever felt like quite enough. "And I'm not your mentor. If you truly want my thoughts, I'll offer them, but I'm not in the business of stepping on Sheen's toes, regaling you with my sage wisdom." In truth, Cress hated this kind of advice. It wasn't nearly as concrete as what could be taught or polished on the mat or in the training center. This kind of idle chatter about strategy felt...amorphous. Subjective. "It's your game to play. How do you want to play it?"

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A little thrill ran through her entirely despite herself, and that reaction made her angrier. "I'm gonna stop you right there. You may have seen Helios walking around doe-eyed towards just about every other tribute, but that's not what we're like in One, he's an outlier. Flirting won't get you anywhere."

"Oh, wouldn't you like to find out," Farina replied suggestively, arching an eyebrow. She was unable to help herself from falling into old habits, like Gemma was just some over-confident, mouthy farmhand that had found their way to the same backroom bar on a stuffy August night. Farina only had two defense mechanisms: sarcasm and flirting, usually some potent potion of both.

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Gemma nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and it's not like we'd run away or anything, we obviously signed up for this." There should be some special privileges for the Careers who'd come willingly and didn't complain.

Salacia. Farina. Linden. She’d note those for later. All girls too, she could work with that. “I hate this trapped feeling, like we can’t just walk out that door and go about our day, it’s a little fucked, isn’t it?” Jade sighed, throwing her head back dramatically.

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"A graduate and the top pick for these Games," she replied, proud of herself for having made it to the top of the pyramid of students competing to be chosen to volunteer. It hadn't been her goal all throughout her time at the Academy, but once Copper had died, she'd shifted her goals and made it there with little issue.

"Hmm," was Keres response for a moment. Sharp eyes flitted over the girl before her. It took her a moment to figure out where she had slotted into the videos of reapings, Keres always found herself preoccupied with making sure the story was told rather than the names. That was someone else's job, to fill in the nameplate that would run on the bottom of the ticker, as Keres sat and thought of the stories each person told.

"An Academy graduate then, I presume. Ms. Rosewater, was it?" That was the one she distinctly remembered having a certain look to her during the reaping. Something almost determined, hungry.

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Gemma was a bit hurt by the jabs, but she tried not to show it, as she knew that was exactly the point: to bother her. "And what's likeable and pretty going to do for you in the Arena? When you've got someone who knows how to use a weapon staring you down?"

"Because I'm prettier than you and about- i don't know, a hundred times more likeable? I'm special and you're just you're run of the mill career from one. There's nothing interesting about you. I'm not going to die. I still have things to do after the games. They're not the end all and be all for me."

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Seeing Cress, Gemma was filled with mixed emotions. Before, she'd have been starstruck, completely in awe. But now, Cress's very obvious pregnancy just made her think about who had impregnated her, who Cress was still with -- and while Slate had changed his tune, Gemma couldn't stop seeing him as responsible for so much of what had happened with the rebels, including and especially Copper's death.

So while she remained impressed with Cress and everything she had been and was, she was suspicious of her now, a bit unsure thanks to her associations whether she could be trusted. "Well," she said carefully, "what would you say would serve me better?"

She was waiting. Biding her time until Twelve arrived, simmering in an odd guilt that she hadn’t been able to support Slate at his first Reaping from the stage. But the doctors had been clear. Travel was ill-advised this late in her pregnancy. A particularly bumpy train raise could induce labor, and then what? Hoping for a rogue midwife? It wasn’t a slight against Twelve and its resources. It was that everyone was scattered or dead.

“I heard you’re my fabled successor,” Cress commented, head tilting, taking Gemma in. She was still the most recent victor from One, and yet every cycle, new tributes came, prepared to take her place. A shame they all died, and Cress remained. “Hubris won’t serve you quite as well here as it does back home.”

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Gemma recognized the Gamemaker. She had seen photos of all of them in preparation for this, so as not to be caught out and embarrass herself should she have the pleasure to interact with one. The moment was happening sooner than she'd expected, though. She wanted to gush, to explain to Ms. Lancaster that she was planning on winning the Games to show the rebels what was important, that she would restore the Games to what they should have been all along, to what they'd been steered away from in the last cycle -- which clearly, Snow agreed with, as Pharmakos's head had rolled not long ago. But instead of all of that, she said, "Why shouldn't I be confident? I've trained for this, I'm excited to be here."

The floor of the lobby magnified the clicking of Keres's heels as she walked in. The Avox which always hovered near her to carry anything she required scurried to keep up. Before her, a group of wide eyed tributes was walking, clearly glancing around curious at their new home until their impending demise.

However, it was not those tributes that caught her intention. Instead, it was a voice that rang out at their passing. Abruptly, the clicking of the blonde's heels came to a stop, as she turned to look at the origin of the sarcastic voice.

"Well, aren't you a confident one," she addressed the tribute sitting in the lounge, curious.

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Gemma figured it would be best to spend a bit more time with Linden so she could gauge her threat level, so she said, "Fine, it's a deal. A short-term alliance that ends at the buffet table." She started walking in the direction she thought food would be in.

"you want me dead, I want you dead. we're being honest about that, doesn't mean we have to avoid each other." It would be easier not to make friends, she knew that. but this wasn't friendship, there was too much hostility here. so it was safe. "You're hungry too, aren't you? I'm proposing an alliance until we can find food. does that work for you?"

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"Salacia from Four seems to have her head screwed on straight," Gemma said, a high compliment coming from her. "I'm still trying to assess the others... Farina from Nine can hold her own, as can Linden from Seven, but that might just mean we keep a closer eye on them."

Jade laughed with her, she was funny, at least there was that. Some of one’s prospective tributes were so serious, it was draining. You were still allowed a sense of humour, as far as Jade was concerned.

“In all seriousness, have you seen anyone you think might be worth connecting with?”

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"Alecta was brought down by her own weakness," Gemma replied, not giving either Cyril or Cordelia the time of day nor the dignity of having been part of the takedown. She was a bit annoyed that Denver seemed to miss the point of her threat, jumping from all the tributes I'll kill to the logistics of ornaments versus trading cards. "Right, ornaments, trading cards, heads on sticks, doesn't matter. You'll sell them all. The Games need to be restored to their glory, not just a playground for rebels to get their ideas heard by the nation. I don't care about merchandise."

Denver looked at Gemma. She wasn't sure that she'd say Mason had a disconnect from reality. His brother certainly had - he'd needed to in order to sacrifice himself for Mason in the Arena. But hers was an interesting take. "Do you think Alecta was brought down more by Cyril or...Cordelia?" she asked, trying to get a sense for what love was and wasn't acceptable in the Arena, according to her.

"Oh, we don't do ornaments for the tributes, just the Victors," Denver clarified. "We do have tribute trading cards, though." And the occasional t-shirt or article of clothing, particularly if the tribute had been styled in a way that was particularly memorable. And of course there was all the Aspen Sawyer's Hand merchandise, though that had waned ever since Holland Westbrook got out of prison. She remembered there being way more when she was little.

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"I'd love a District One finale, but I can't promise that I won't try for a more... personal approach in the end," Gemma said. She had every intention of killing Jade if it were the two of them at the end of the Games, rather than letting a mutt do it. "I've met a few of them. Outer districts, and... well, the girl from Three is a serious piece of work. She'll be an easy target."

Nodding his head, "Good, good. I'm very friendly with the District Two Mentors. I can talk to them, and work something out for all of you, so we're all on the same page for the early part of the games." When she asked about Jade being told not to kill Gemma, he nodded his head. "I am, yes. If me and my partner made it to the finals together and I didn't have to kill them, I am sure the two of you can do that." Running his hand through his hair, "Have you met any of the other tributes yet?"

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Gemma was almost speechless -- almost. But she managed to push past it, and her awe at the girl's disconnect from reality, to say, "Why would I be jealous of you? You're about to be thrown into an Arena that you are clearly not prepared for, and you'll die very quickly if you're lucky, likely in the Bloodbath, as you'll be too busy checking your reflection to notice that you're in danger."

"I'm sorry that you're so jealous of me. It's a natural reaction to meeting me. I get that." This wasn't the first time someone called her dumb, or asked if she was dumb, but as always she just brushed past it.

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Gemma rolled her eyes at the sarcasm she was met with. "Imagine what else you can learn now that you know you need your arms," she replied with a dose of her own sarcasm.

Farina looked at her hands in mock shock, wiggling her fingers, then testing her elbow and wrist joints. "Oh my God, you're a genius," she gasped, tone dripping in sarcasm. "See, my teeny, tiny District Nine brain never thought I needed these, wow, so glad you were here to save me."

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"Good point, if we're not careful he might step on us," Gemma said with a laugh, glad that she and her district partner were on the same page. Of course, she wasn't interested in a genuine friendship -- how stupid would that be? No, she was interested in using Jade just as Jade was probably going to use her.

Jade found herself sat beside Gemma, watching the other tributes like they had the right to judge. She knew of her though, knew it would be smart to team up, if that was an option, so she laughed at her sarcasm and sipped her own coffee. "That guy is pretty tall" she pointed out, as Oxford passed them. Tall didn't necessarily mean strong, but she'd keep her eye on him anyway.