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NONE OF THE people around her, despite their widely ranging personalities, thought processes and brain capacities, seemed to know what to make of her information at first. It was, unsurprisingly, her neighbour who reacted the swiftest after her statement. Orion Gray had leaned back in his seat, regarding her more carefully and less cautiously than he had before. Clearly, he had heard her name somewhere, and had now likely come to a more savoury conclusion that he had ever suspected that he would draw in regard to her.
The rest of the carriage remained almost endearingly still. Rowan allowed her lips to twitch up into a smirk, languishing predictably in their lack of knowledge that concerned her.ย The less that these people knew about her, the better, especially on the matter of her future interests.
Rowan had become incredibly skilled at considering the prospects of what was to come, and over her years of solitude, had managed to realise something that time was something that she had never truly taken into account, never really planned for. It had, to her quietly concealed chagrin, been President Snow who had unknowingly ushered her to the odd enlightenment. He had discovered something to hold over her, as a trick or even a threat. She had allowed him to do so, knowing that he now believed that he held power over her.
It was the illusion that had prompted her to become more active in the idea of her future. While she hadn't been particularly bothered by the President's discovery, and in truth he held little sway over her, the idea of someone being able to predict or control her future before she had bothered to wonder about it..
She loathed it, to an extent, further than she thought she ever would. Though, that too had become buried between her blankets of applied indifference and cautious calm that she had weighed herself down with so heavily that some days, she found it hard to walk. So now, she peered as well as she could into her future, which at many times seemed obscured by a layer of grime. Today, wondering what her future would bring, brought her to a rough conclusion.
That both of these Tributes, these innocents, would be dead in two weeks' time. Finch, out of the two of them certainly held more of a chance of winning than Zeus did, especially with that sharp ingenuity resting behind her eyes. Either way, she couldn't sense the raw desperation,and the willingness to be neither the hero nor the villain, but the survivor that she had held so pretentiously eight years ago. Rowan knew that many, including individuals from the Victors themselves, across Panem had a dislike for her; for the coherent mind that she had managed to vigilantly maintain in her arena, while death ravaged its course around her.
There was no trick to it, no training, or skill, as so many seemed to want to believe. It was an instinct, primal, and raw. From the moment she had first boarded this train, she had known that she would do whatever it took, as long as she was a survivor. And she would not feel guilty for it, because her mind worked in such an elegantly wicked way that it was rare for to even be in close proximity to something messy, something that would require remorse. She knew that she had a very different mindset to both, given the grovelling and sobbing that the Tributes in her Games had presented at the interviews which she hadn't been in the slightest inclined towards, and it had given her the upper hand. She was sure that if it did then, it likely would now, and what she would need it to help with, she had a fair clue about.
No-one had spoken, and Rowan simply flickered her eyes upwards before leaning back in her seat in a similar way to Orion, allowing herself to essentially fall out of the conversation, which did, however apprehensively return. The Tributes kept sending glances at her, especially when an Avox approached her with a small white card, which she had read promptly before giving back. Orion had noted that too, because some sort of realisation had triggered behind his eyes when she had been reading it, and he seemed much less inclined to judge her after that. Though, his curiosity remained prominent, and he insistently tried to pull her into the conversation every now and then, if only to garner more information.
What Orion was telling the Tributes, as far as she could tell, was common sense. Don't light a fire in the dark, and preferably not in the day, unless you have something to conceal the smoke with. Find shelter, then seek water, and then food. Stick to what you know, and most importantly, don't ever let your guard down. Letting your guard down in the Games almost certainly resulted in death. It was not a place to relax; it was a place to become the vicious, primal part of yourself, and disregard all compunction for emotion or regularity, because that was your best shot, no matter what anyone else told you. She hadn't done that, at least at first, because no-one had warned her of it. It was her odd aura, her unsettling demeanour that had saved her.
No-one had quite dared to approach her. Even the Careers had settle to leave her for last, hoping that she would be picked off by another Tribute, the Gamemakers, or even the Arena itself. The latter, she had only just escaped, in more ways than one. Ways that seared over her skin every evening, and carried her into the darkness that was tinted by the umber and raw orange of flame and dusk.
She would not be able to help these Tributes, not when they didn't hold the same air that she had, which had essentially won her her Games. She had held common sense, but that was common. To survive, you needed something extraordinary, something unusual, that would pass you an advantage, and unfortunately, neither Finch or Zeus held that.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Aight, this is short as sht, but I wanted to get something out to you guys this weekend given my recent writer's block with Trapdoor. I'm hoping to have a chapter up in the week but we'll see caus my mind's gotta be working. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this, despite the lack of proper content, and I'll see you in a few days.
JABBERJAY_011
WRITTEN [20.06.2021]
WORD COUNT [1100]
PUBLISHED [20.06.2021]
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