(004) a piece of metal
CHAPTER FOUR
A PIECE OF METAL
tribute parade, two years prior
Arella simply cannot fathom the idea that the people around her at this very moment will be hunting her down in a matter of days. None of them look particularly intimidating but she knows they're all quite the opposite, especially those from the Career Districts. Most of them could likely kill her from across the room with precision, she wouldn't stand a chance. Even dressed in their extravagant, and somewhat eccentric, outfits they scare her a little.
The brunette looks down at her own outfit, a bodysuit that practically sparkles underneath the light. Her stylist, a woman who took great pleasure in dressing her up like a doll, had beamed when she showed Arella her District inspired outfit. She doesn't want to be ungrateful or even ignorant, but to her she looks like a giant piece of metal. Arella assumes it's supposed to have something to do with wires or electricity considering District Five is all about power but it doesn't feel like that at all. Poor Malcolm has been put into a very similar costume, all the way down to the silver eyeshadow dusted over his eyelids.
The one part of her get up that she is a fan of, however, is the way they've curled her hair and lined it with beautifully crafted hairpins. Those pins in her hair are likely more expensive than her entire house back in District Five. It is insane how much these people take things for granted, how happy they are to turn a blind eye to those struggling not too far from her. They think treating them like celebrities when they come to the Capitol is a good thing, all of them acting as if they aren't about to cheer on for their deaths in a matter of days.
"We look ridiculous," Malcolm mumbles lightly to her left, a frown pulling at his lips. Arella laughs softly and nods her head in agreement. "You'd think for someone so rich that these stylists would actually make us look good,"
"That's the thing, they think this does look good," Arella replies quietly, smiling slightly at his snarky comment. "Money unfortunately doesn't equal sense,"
The stench of alcohol floods her nostrils as she turns her head, a drunken Jack Solomon slowly makes his way over to the tributes. She has never met him but she's certainly seen him around home, the man has never been shy about showing himself — often stumbling through the streets and singing ridiculous tunes on his way. Arella has heard of the District Twelve mentor being very similar, perhaps that's why they're such good friends.
"So you're my tributes this year?" The man slurs, tilting his head to look at the both of them. Arella simply looks at him, not giving any sort of response. "Tough crowd. Malcolm and Aria right?"
"Arella," The girl responds somewhat harshly, annoyance slipping onto her face. This man is supposed to save them from death and he can't even remember her name. "Is there a reason you've actually shown up now?"
"It's my job, Aria. Although, let me tell you, the two of you aren't all that impressive. I see bloodbath death written all over you,"
Arella glares at the man as Malcolm flinches at her side. Jack doesn't even seem to realize that he's angered her, that or he doesn't care that he has. Their mentor gives them one last glance before walking away, apparently spotting something a little more interesting to him over their shoulder. She watches him go before turning back to her District Partner, the young boy looking to the ground.
"Don't listen to him, yeah? He's a drunk," Arella tries to assure. "Besides, we don't need him,"
"We?" Malcolm asks quietly, looking up at the taller girl with his vulnerable gaze.
"You didn't think I was going to leave you, did you? We're in this together,"
Malcolm looks at her for a few more moments before wrapping his arms around her wait in a hug. Arella is a little taken aback, a slight stumble as a result, but she returns the embrace. She supposes it's not too out of the ordinary for Malcolm to believe she would leave him on his lonesome in the arena, District partners do it every year, but she doesn't believe in that. Besides, Malcolm is a child — she could not erase the guilt she'd feel if she saw his picture in the sky after fleeing for her own life.
Arella feels the breeze flow through her styled hair as the chariot pulls out of the building, screeches and excited shouts echoing in her ears. The Capitol residents are watching them all with glee in their eyes, their gaze glued to the newest round of tributes. The queasiness in her stomach is harsh as these people continue to stare at her as if she is some sort of prized pony, a victim of their relentless joy at watching people fight to the death.
She jumps slightly when a hand grabs her's, Malcolm obviously seeking out some comfort in a place of unfamiliar faces. When they pull up in front of the large balcony, he doesn't let go. If anything, his grip on her tightens when the President gets to his feet. The despicable man, who these people literally worship as if he's some kind of God, overlooks the lambs he's chosen to send to slaughter.
"It's okay," Arella speaks quietly, squeezing his hand in assurance. "Just a little longer,"
She's seen enough of these parades over the years to know they simply have to listen to the President's address before they can retreat again. Arella imagines that Malcolm's family has likely sheltered him from this up until now, hoping to preserve some of his childhood innocence before he has to face these horrors. Arella wasn't allowed to watch any of it until she turned 12, and as it was, that was the year her older brother was thrown into the Arena — it was a horrific introduction into this world.
"Welcome, tributes we welcome you," President Snow speaks, his voice booming at the speakers spread his words through the building. "We salute your courage and your sacrifice, and we wish you a Happy Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor,"
The words sent a chill down her spine, she hopes that the cameras aren't on her face right now. Arella has never been too good at hiding her emotions and she doubts she's doing it well now, a harsh glare directed straight at the man in charge of the entirety of Panem.
After a few more moments, the chariots begin to pull away again and they're led to the back room again. The other tributes are joined by their mentors, most of them anyway, whilst Malcolm and Arella are greeted by Sierra instead. The Escort has a bright smile on her face that Arella is unfortunately familiar with by, a grin that hides her devilish intentions.
"Wonderful! The Capitol is going to love the two of you," Sierra claps her hands together somewhat excitedly. Arella highly doubts that is true, neither of them are going to be the strongest of competitors nor did their outfits at the tribute parade stand out astronomically.
"Jack too busy to come and speak with us?" Arella asks with a slight roll of her eyes. Sierra purses her lips and that's the only response the teenager needs, moving around the escort and heading for the elevator. She can hear light footsteps behind her and assumes that it's Malcolm.
"Arella!"
Stopping in her tracks at the unfamiliar voice, the brunette turns her head to see a fancy dressed teenager looking at her. It's quite obvious by his toned figure that he's a Capitol resident, his face bright which those from the Districts don't possess. Arella watches him in confusion, the stranger moving closer and acting as if the whole situation isn't odd.
"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you," He speaks, his voice a soft melodic tune.
"You didn't," Arella responds quickly, playing with her fingers nervously. She is not going to lie to herself, this boy is incredibly handsome with his chiseled features and short curly hair. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I just wanted to tell you that you look beautiful. Uh the silver suits you,"
The compliment brings a deep red blush to her cheeks, heart rate accelerating ever so slightly. She wonders if he does this every year, or even if he's done it to some of the other female tributes this year.
"Um thank you. I look like a piece of metal though," Arella states awkwardly, scratching her elbow with her recently manicured nails. The attention is odd, his gentle gaze as he looks at her.
"And I heard the way you spoke with your partner earlier, I also wanted to say that you're very brave. I've seen enough Games to know that people are often happy to abandon each other,"
Arella isn't so sure she's happy at the fact he's been eavesdropping but she appreciates his words nonetheless.
"Thank you," Arella replies softly, her lips pulling up slightly.
"I'm Henry," The boy holds his hand out for her to shake, the girl hesitantly placing her's in his. His hand is a little rougher than her's, Arella still rather gentle. "It's been wonderful to meet you Arella. I hope we get to see one another again,"
If I'm not dead in a matter of days.
Arella nods her head and then watches him leave, butterflies still fluttering about in her stomach. How is she even meant to respond to him? To his compliments? Arella cannot remember the last time somebody even said anything all that nice to her, the people back home will simply smile instead. Yet, some boy from the place that is happy to send her off to her death has found the energy to come up to her personally.
Malcolm walks up beside her with a confused frown on his face. "What did he want?"
Arella stares at the back of Henry for a few moments before turning her gaze to Malcolm with a gentle smile. "Just the usual. May the odds be ever in your favor,"
Malcolm grins at her attempt to mimic the Capitol accent. Arella looks at him fondly, the twelve year old allowing his innocence to wash over his face in that moment.
"And I heard the way you spoke with your partner earlier, I also wanted to say that you're very brave. I've seen enough Games to know that people are often happy to abandon each other,"
She couldn't abandon him, she'll never be able to leave him to fight this battle on his own. That's when Arella knows that if he's going to get through this, if he's going to live, then she can't. Malcolm only gets to live his life is if Arella dies in that Arena.
It's what has to happen — Arella would make sure of it.
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