glas vs. rose in a FIGHT TO THE DEATH

[glassea]

yo, que pasa? glas here. um, the usual; don't post but you can stalk if you want.
oh look ugly coding

▬▬▬ ✦ ▬▬ ✧ ▬▬ ✦ ▬▬ ✧ ▬▬ ✦ ▬▬▬
ｃｏｍｅ ａｎｄ ｔａｋｅ ｍｅ ｏｖｅｒ
ＷＥＬＣＯＭＥ ＴＯ ＴＨＥ ＧＡＭＥ.
ＷＩＬＬ ＴＨＥ ＣＵＲＲＥＮＴ ＤＲＡＧ ＭＥ ＤＯＷＮ ＡＮＤ ＣＡＲＲＹ ＭＥ ＡＷＡＹ?

xxｏｎｅ ✦ luxuryxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｆｏｕｒ ✦ fishingxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｓｅｖｅｎ ✦ lumberxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: aspen
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｔｅｎ ✦ livestockxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｔｈｒｅｅ ✦ electronicsxx
male: jax
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: emery
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｓｉｘ ✦ transportationxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｎｉｎｅ ✦ grainxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｔｗｅｌｖｅ ✦ miningxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｔｗｏ ✦ masonryxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｆｉｖｅ ✦ powerxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｅｉｇｈｔ ✦ textilesxx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

xxｅｌｅｖｅｎ ✦ agriculturexx
male: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

female: open
✧ score:
✧ killed: 0

[glassea]

then i can claim the district three girl
hell yeah
yay for premade forms
but take your time rose ouo

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ｆｅｍａｌｅ - ｄｉｓｔｒｉｃｔ ｔｈｒｅｅ
ＥＭＥＲＹ-ＬＥＥ ＧＲＩＦＦＩＴＨＳ
Ｉ'Ｍ ＪＵＳＴ ＯＵＴ ＴＯ ＦＩＮＤ ＴＨＥ ＢＥＴＴＥＲ ＰＡＲＴ ＯＦ ＭＥ.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓
nickname[s] ; emery, em
age ; sixteen
weapon ; poison
major strength ; intelligence
major weakness ; common sense
allies ; rose's peep
enemies ; everyone ehehe
roleplayer ; Glassea
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district three is known for its highly analytical tributes. emery is no exception. she's very, very smart. however, she's not the bravest of tributes, and is in fact a bit of a coward. favored weapon? emery's a good study. she hopes to, during training, learn about the arena's poisonous fauna. ideally she'd use it against her opponents. it's her only weapon as she is neither strong nor agile, though good in short-distance sprints.

[glassea]

-- sorry, muse for intro posts. they'll be a whole lot shorter so you don't have to suffer through my rambles c:

emery could have almost imagined that this metal-bound room was just another day in the cafeteria of her district school had it not been for the silence.

or the color-coded uniforms. those aren't exactly familiar either.

but it is the silence, tense and charged with electricity, that is the deciding factor for emery. this is not another school day, nor even a dream; it is a morning in the waking nightmare her life had become.

the curious thing about the silence is that it's not actually totally quiet. a few moments before there'd been a woman on the slightly raised platform, talking to them about the obvious rules in her obnoxiously stuffy capitol accent. and with a crowd of exactly twenty-four jittery tributes, total noiselessness could never be achieved. still, emery's vocabulary is not developed enough to label the tense air as anything but silent.

the capitol woman has vanished into an elevator carrying her up into the building, back to her safe and secure capitol life. the gamemakers are seated in two perfect rows behind a pane of glass, suspended in a room above the large space where emery and the rest stood, immaculately groomed hair casting shadows across their faces in the fluorescent light. their eyes are fixed on the group as if they don't do this every year, as if this group of teenagers was somehow different, as if they didn't know perfectly well that within a month's time twenty-three would be dead. maybe their beady gamemaker eyes were picking through this year's selection of tributes to try and find the winner.

she already knows she has no chance in their eyes.

the tributes are dispersing into the stations scattered all around the room. the careers are the first to go for the weapons, eager to show off to the watching gamemakers even though what they do here will not do much for them in the arena. jax, emery's district partner, hesitates by her side for a moment. she can practically feel his nervous tension washing over her as he makes his choice and moves off towards the fire-making station. emery has known the older boy would cut ties with her eventually. even with that revelation his easy dismissal of her still stings.

there aren't many people left standing in the center where emery is. they've all rushed off to whichever station will showcase their skills. emery is in no hurry. training will last for a few more days; she'll have time then to peruse the large room and all it has to offer. right now she is looking for something a little more difficult to find: an ally.

she knows it is unlikely that she will survive the bloodbath, but emery knows that it never hurts to be prepared. besides, even if she doesn't find an ally, she will gain valuable insights about some of the other tributes - her enemies, now.

she scans the uninviting room and chooses a direction: away from the careers, towards something that looked like a shelter-building station of some sort. even though the tributes cannot fight one another during training emery does not want to draw the career's attention to herself. she has no desire to be marked as a target, or worse, a weakling whose death they could use to play to the cameras. emery has no problem with dying in the bloodbath but she will not be a career's plaything. she will not help someone win. she will never let that happen.

still, she knows that when the time comes, she will not really have a choice as to how her life would end.

there is one girl over by the station, as well as two boys who move away as emery slowly approaches. the station is not in use: the older girl has probably been using it. now she scans the room with almost a practiced eye, taking in everything and everyone. emery does not speak to her. instead, she moves past, to the station where an orange-haired trainer tries to teach her how to stack wood in a special way, because what else could be more important to survival than wood, especially when there were twenty-three out to kill you? she only half pays attention.

the rest of emery's focus is on those around the room. between glances upwards she builds a mental profile for about five different tributes. the boy from six is fast and agile, surprisingly so, outmaneuvering even the careers. it's not a smart move. the vicious-looking girl from four is eyeing him with hatred and emery has already noted how she can hit a target with her spear from twenty yards. the girl from ten is small, looking to be about twelve or thirteen, and continually loses to the trainer at the sword-fighting station. her district counterpart is blind. emery feels bad for him - he's got no chance of winning - but that's one less enemy to worry about. and the boy from two is incredibly vain. she can already tell. it's the way that he sneers when he raises his arms to land another blow on a dilapidated dummy in front of him. the trainer stands next to him, looking as if she'd like to say something about his destruction of the equipment, but wisely holds her tongue.

emery looks back down at her planks and realizes she's gotten nowhere. the failure bugs her a little. emery-lee griffiths is smart. she does not fail. the almost primal thought rises up inside of her and she pushes it down just as she always has. instead of obsessing over a skill she won't even use, emery stands, walking away from the station as if she's sure where she's going. hopefully her stance belies her true confusion because emery doesn't know what to do. she almost bumps into one of the tributes, the girl who's still standing next to the shelter-building station, and grinds to a halt just in time.

[glassea]

-- gurl, are you kidding me? i love reading your posts, over and over again, and i discover new hidden details each time. and look, mine is adorably rambling.

it was almost as if her uncoordination could be contagious, emery reflected, as the girl leaned back as far as she could without actually taking a step backwards [because that, emery thought, could be seen as backing down] and eyed emery as if she was covered in cow dung. after an awkward moment - in which emery became very aware of her ridiculously fast blinking - the girl slid to the left in a movement totally opposite of her own mad skid across the floor. she raised one eybrow in a move emery envied [like, facial coordination? how?!] and smiled a crocodile's grin. one might easily assume that this girl was no different than the sadistic careers who lurked across the room. her coldhearted, opaque eyes did not belie this impression either. and the bow! that was pure sass, something that would surely win over the gamemakers.

"if you think you can make a shelter out of that, be my guest."

it was something in her words that led emery to believe that perhaps this girl was more than the ruthless killer she seemed to be. her voice was not at all what emery had expected - someone like this, perfect career material with beauty and ruthless grace, would be likely to have a snake's sinuous tones - as it was more uncultured than that, not totally indecipherable, but not the crisply cut speech of the capitol. and then there was the fact that she'd spoken in the first place. why would you bother? wouldn't you just walk away? it was not common for unrelated tributes to have direct communication in training. and why the confrontational tone? emery's shelter hadn't fared any better; honestly, emery didn't see why the girl was so touchy about it. it occurred to her that this tribute might have a competitive streak similar to her own. but then she noticed the uniform's distinctive coloring: the girl was obviously the tribute of seven. lumber. no wonder she'd been so aggrieved at emery's interruption of something she should be good at.

seven? emery tried to remember anything she could about this year's reaping. honestly, she should've had all the tributes memorized by now, names, ages, and all. she was losing her touch at the worst possible time.

she knew that there had been no volunteers this year, except for in the career districts, which didn't count. her mind scrabbled for this girl's name. it began with a vowel; she was sure of that, and had a name that seemed to emery so original for a child of seven. it probably had something to do with wood, then. oak? undergrowth? [okay, emery admitted that one was ridiculous.] ash? she wasn't sure and decided not to chance a guess.

realizing how long she'd waited to answer seven's implied challenge [the girl opposite was becoming impatient, she could tell], emery decided to go with the least offensive option. it would not do to anger anyone in particular. "no, trust me, mine's worse." she waved a hand in the direction of her own pile of sticks, scattered around the platform in emery's frustration. "besides, it's not like we can go around building log cabins in the arena." no, in the arena they would have to move quickly. those who were not a part of the career pack did not have the luxury of setting up a permanent base camp. you had to stay on your toes, ready for anything. but all except one would eventually let their guard down just enough to decide their fate.

this girl knew that. emery could tell from the look in her eyes, a mix of fury and bitterness, with hopelessness fathoms below. she knew the horrors of the arena and had accepted them. the tributes still in denial of their fate would not last long in the arena. emery could respect someone who knew precisely what awaited yet did not fall apart at that revelation.

[glassea]

-- IT WILL LIVE! hehe going to be a bit awkward with em here because i'm not too sure what to do

she's insane.

obviously she is insane, this mad girl from district seven, because why else would she do something like this?

as she looks at the jagged capitol seal that no one has dared to touch, emery thinks. this is blasphemy. aspen is damned in the arena, damned by her impulsive actions, damned to die. and emery is now associated with her.

it had been going rather well. aspen - that was her name; she remembered now in the aftermath of the shock - had been amused by emery's log cabin quip. and it would have been nice, to live someplace quiet and peaceful, where the games were just a distant memory.

that's when things had spun out of control.

emery could not help but agree with aspen's message. the capitol did not have a reason to host these games, not really, not after the rebellion had been long forgotten. there was no point other than to terrorize the districts with their power. but if the capitol had wished to enforce their strict laws upon the districts, they'd already succeeded; the peacekeeping forces in three were not exactly passive. the hunger games were not just a way to keep the districts in line. that was a lie. the games were a manifestation of the capitol's sadism, of how everyone in this grandiose city could be made to feel superior by laughing as they sent tributes to their deaths.

still, the seal had been a bit excessive. and the sarcastic quote had been totally uncalled for. emery did not know what the gamemakers were thinking of aspen at the moment; some would probably be outraged at her total disrespect, while others might be amused by her spirit. either way, aspen'd had the effect she'd been looking for.

emery glances up from the splintered wood to see aspen's retreating figure. she is being dragged along by someone who was either her chaperone or mentor, and is obviously appalled at her actions. for a moment emery is tempted to follow. she wants to speak to aspen and determine her precise motives. not knowing bugs her. but following would not be beneficial. no, she would be invariably associated with aspen, and considering the girl's recent actions, that would not do. instead, emery resolves to speak with aspen during the next training session. that would be better. the incident would be somewhat smoothed over, and then emery might be able to actually pick up some valuable survival skills. for now, she'd go with what she originally planned to do: emery headed over to the woefully empty flora education station.

WHEE RANDOMLY INSERTED TIME-SKIP to training: take two

she finds herself wondering whether aspen would show.

with her performance from yesterday still ricocheting around the minds of the gamemakers and tributes, emery would not blame aspen's mentor from keeping her from any more training sessions. still, emery wanted the other girl to show, even if it was just so that she could ask her why she'd done something so crazy and unprecedented. you didn't insult the capitol if you were a tribute; it simply wasn't done. it took guts to defy the status quo.

emery had decided that if she had to put up with someone in the arena, aspen would not be so bad.

there aren't many tributes here yet, as emery was rather early in rising this morning, and aspen is not yet among those present. she doesn't know what to do and neither does anyone else. do they wait for the training woman to show? she's already given her annual speech to the tributes, but are there other announcements of which emery is not aware? her mentor is useless in this respect: raell is practically a dead woman walking, having won the games almost sixty years ago, especially considering the rather short lifespan of the district's inhabitants. somewhere along the way raell suffered a stroke and now emery can barely understand her. besides, she's not an early riser, and emery was up long before her. jax isn't even down here yet.

it's awkward for her to stand alone but she does it anyways. what other options does she have?

[glassea]

-- i love aspen ;n; she's just so... i don't know. apologies for a rather short post.

it's a shock for her when aspen's arm swings over her shoulder. emery's first instinct is to jump, to throw off aspen, who's invading her personal space with nary a care in the world. but she doesn't - partly because she'd rather not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her surprised, and partly because she's glad aspen's here and she's not the defenseless little deer in the center of the room anymore.

the gamemakers are watching them. emery sees them whispering to each other out of the corner of her eye, gesturing in their direction with small movements. of course, they're most likely fixated on aspen, perhaps monitoring her to see what crazy act she'll pull off this time. emery doesn't know aspen well; at least she doesn't know her well enough the determine whether aspen's going to do something ridiculous again. emery has mixed feelings about that: obviously she doesn't want aspen to make herself more of a target for the gamemakers [why not? the rational part of her mind says. one less competitor to worry about] but it would be amusing to see their reactions a second time, to see whether they were surprised or if aspen had only confirmed their suspicions.

"oh, yes," says emery in return to aspen's comment about the careers. for a moment she watches them, seeing the boy from two hurling his weapon as if he'd been born doing it - well, he pretty much had. "i always wanted to be skewered. don't you think it would be an, ah, interesting experience? i for one have never had a large pointy object stuck through my side."

her speech isn't really planned; it's more of what's on emery's mind coming out in a disorganized sentence. her words are not carefully chosen. for a moment she wonders whether she's a made a mistake. some people really didn't appreciate joking about their inevitable demise. she'd discovered that the hard way last night, with jax. he'd looked at her like she was insane and said, "how can you take this so lightly? neither one of us has a chance. laughing about it will help no one, especially not us." then he'd gotten up and left the room in a huff, leaving emery behind feeling both annoyed and ashamed. she didn't like the feeling. then she remembered aspen's laugh at the shelter-building station, when emery had mentioned the log cabins, and her snapping of the capitol's seal. aspen was not taking this too seriously: obviously she wasn't being flippant [even though she might be acting like it], but she wasn't as resigned as some of the other non-career tributes.

this would be an interesting conversation. of that emery was sure.

[glassea]

-- don't worry about it. i hope everything's okay...?

she has never encountered something she cannot figure out.

human beings stick to patterns, whether they know it or not; their actions are dependent on their situations and emotions and other environmental factors. it's the same - less complex, even - with animals. and emery's worked with computers: she knows that nothing, not even a computer, can generate something truly random. there is always, always an algorithim, because that's how the universe works.

obviously emery hasn't observed aspen for long enough to isolate what makes her tick.

there's got to be some underlying pattern, hasn't there? aspen must have some gut impulse that guides her actions. for emery, it is infuriating: for a second she thinks she understands this other tribute, but then another situation comes up that puts her back on square one.

okay, emery kind of saw the encounter with the career coming. emery hadn't intervened in that conflict. again, it wasn't something you did - just like how you didn't defy the capitol when your life hung in their fickle hands. emery'd already determined that aspen was not one to play the games by their unwritten [yet still obeyed] rules. so confronting the career on behalf of her district partner? not exactly unexpected. turning around and yelling at said district partner? what aspen had said to cedar made sense, and emery supposed that cedar was overstepping his bounds by more than a little bit, yet emery still would not have expected aspen to get so riled up over the idea of being connected with cedar. she'd been pretty nonchalant before with emery and their jokes about log cabins. it was true that cedar would stand no chance. was aspen only civil to emery because she thought that emery might be of use? if that was the case... well, hopefully emery would be able to come up with a suitable bit of revenge before that occurred.

aspen's sudden reining in of emotion is startling at first glance. for a moment emery sees aspen's frustration and anger at this whole ungodly torture. then it is gone within the next exhalation. aspen is good at supressing her emotions, emery decides, most of the time. sometimes it seems to get away from her. that might even explain her coldness towards cedar - a loss of control due to a buildup of some kind. this makes sense. this represents a pattern of a sort, a way to break down aspen as she has for most of the tributes, and she clings to it fiercely, because if there's something in this game emery has to suceed at, it is understanding her enemies. she must not be deluded into thinking anyone is her friend. aspen's explosion reinforces this. in the arena, there are no companions, no true allies; there are only enemies who will kill to live.

will she kill to live? the scary thing is, emery already knows the answer is yes, even when it is still simply rhetorical.

"if we refused, they'd probably just send in mutts to murder us one by one." but no one is going to refuse because that's not how the games are played. it is against the rules - even though these rules are unspoken, they still have a powerful impact on this whole affair - and there's no chance that all twenty-four of them will agree to it. emery would not agree to it, actually, because someone would be sure to stab her in the back. someone will probably stab her [maybe not in the back] either way. they are nothing more than pawns controlled by the capitol. isn't it foolish to believe otherwise? with a thump, emery sits, sprawling with her legs stretched out in the middle of the floor. she can practically feel the other tributes sizing her up [what do those idiots think they're doing? having a picnic?], gauging how much of a threat she is, then turning back with their somewhat formulated conclusions. for a moment emery simply sits. if aspen has an overwhelming need to sit on the floor in silence, emery will probably not be sticking around for its entirety, but for now she is content to do as she is bid.

"so, an axe?" it's a tentative question; emery does not want another one of aspen's outbursts directed at her. "i mean, you are from seven, so it is the logical weapon. i just didn't think the careers would have enough deductive skills to figure out who their allies were, let alone what weapon everyone is likely to favor." obviously this is an incredible overexaggeration on her part [though the careers' i.q.s are probably not larger than their bmi] and it would be fatal to assume this. the enemy of my enemy is my friend. not true for most parts of the games, but commiserating concerning a common enemy is one way to determine a possible ally. [emery'd spoken to both tributes from five, the girl from six, the boy from nine, and the girl from twelve - idiots, all of them.] though she's sure some of the other tributes to whom she has not yet spoken would serve as halfway decent allies, emery decides to push on with aspen. if nothing else, having an ally who draws enemy fire will hopefully keep emery out of the spotlight.

"you didn't do much yesterday, right?" duh, she hadn't considering she'd stormed out in the middle. there is a certain art to the delivery of rhetorical questions that emery has never quite mastered. she just has to hope aspen does not think she's asking totally obvious questions. "we could try, ah..." her voice trails off as she tries to think of something that does not souond totally inexperienced and naïve. "how about that?" emery signals towards a station where they seem to be doing nothing but identifying equipment and its uses. sure, it seems silly, but emery would love to know more about the tools she - or those she faces - might be equipped with.

of course, there is always the possibility that aspen will refuse to move. she might be acting close-minded, but emery does not see the point of sitting around when there are things to learn. even though this "training" is futile - the careers know all of this anyways - why let it go to waste?

when she dies, she does not want to have spent her last few days moping around.

-- oh my god emery is just as nerdy as i am

[glassea]

weapons.

why'd she choose weapons, again?

aspen was right in saying that emery liked theories rather than reality, because emery has no idea what to do with weapons. the only thing she can do as the woman drones on and on is check off which ones she cannot use. sword or axe? laughable. knives? she'd trip and fall on one. sling? emery's got no hand-eye coordination, nor aim. the only one she might be able to handle would be...

yeah, she's got nothing.

this trainer woman knows what she's doing, but has obviously never been taught the meaning of "concise". and her strangely monotone voice is not exactly the most captivating. emery knows aspen's attention is drifting when the other girl whispers in her ear: "either i'm really stupid, or this lady has too much free time on her hands."

shifting her gaze in aspen's general direction, emery responds. "well, it is kind of her job - and you know how important the games are here." important, indeed. it's more like what they live for. what do the capitol citizens do when not watching something related to the games? probably something pompous and useless, like flower arranging. or maybe they play chess, though emery doubts the average capitol inhabitant has enough brains to engage in a worthwhile game. for a moment, emery allows herself to imagine what it would have been like had she been born here. she'd like to think that she would be bored out of her mind and dismissive of the games. but would she? environment affects emotional development. it's why the careers are so ruthless. had she lived here, emery would likely be nothing more than another airhead sponsor bedecked in useless jewels. she'd almost rather be a tribute than living such a useless life.

maybe she shouldn't be so dismissive of the capitol citizens, but after hearing them degraded in her district for years, she finds it hard to let go of some of her stereotypes.

the woman pauses for breath and emery seizes her chance. "could you show me how to use, ah..." her eyes rake the racks of shining weaponry. "uh, a blowgun?" she points at it. it's not anything like the weapons the peacekeepers carry. it's little more than a tube. it looks utterly ridiculous, but emery holding a sword would be even more comical. she'd probably fall over.

emery attempts to plaster a charming smile onto her features but fails miserably. acting is not her forte. instead, she manages something that probably looks like a pained grimace, as if she's in great pain.

the capitol woman looks disarmed and slightly unnerved [probably due to emery's painful facial expression]. but she says something in her ridiculous capitol accent [that emery ignores] and leads emery over to the plastic tube - sorry, blowgun. emery glances over her shoulder to gauge aspen's location. "coming?" she calls.

the weapon feels flimsy and unusual in her hands. it looks as if this weapon has fallen right out of the stone age. it's smallish, about a foot and a half in length, but not improved by any sort of capitol technology. the woman is lecturing her on its many uses but emery's already figured most of them out for herself: obviously the dart goes there, and she's supposed to hold it on the indentations, duh. then what? just blow?

"blow, dear," the trainer says in an aggrieved tone, as if emery is an idiot. as if emery hasn't figured all of this out on her own, as if emery needs to listen to this woman's instructions. she does not need help.

she unconsciously bites her lip as she raises the end of the tube to her mouth. it is cold and unyielding and not something emery is comfortable with. a deep breath and an exhalation later, the dart strikes the outermost ring of a target fifteen yards away. it's not terrible for a first try, but it's definitely not good enough.

[glassea]

-- you have no idea how long it took me to write this post cx because emery's being a little drama queen, and i feel like aspen is unlikely to forgive someone should they disagree with her. so yep. *shoves post in your face* oh and there's the funky writing down at the bottom because i was just reading this avatar fanfic and asdfghjkl it was so good i had to try some of it out

honestly, after aspen's performance yesterday, emery is not incredibly impressed by vandalism.

her obvious familiarity with the axe? a lot more impressive. and yet another shot at the gamemakers worked in there. aspen has a talent for infuriating those higher-ups who control all of their lives. it would be so very easy, emery knows, for one of the gamemakers to simply give an order, and aspen could be strangled in her sleep before the games even begin. that's not going to happen, though; even a gamemaker must follow their made-up rules. they'll make aspen's life hell in the arena - as well as the life of anyone who might be associated with her.

it was stupid of her to stick around aspen, a totally idiotic move on her part. so why is she somewhat thrilled?

it's not happiness that emery's feeling right now. it's more of a mad euphoria, something that seems to have been communicated to her by aspen's burning glare, worming inside of her and changing her whole outlook on the games in a heartbeat.

she should stop. she should leave now, and maybe then she will have a chance, however slim, for if she stays alongside aspen her fate is already sealed. she should not let herself be dragged down by another tribute; she must be independent and able and not easily swayed by others. if emery is to win, she must not tick off the capitol as aspen already has.

except she hasn't really got a chance anyways.

it's not in emery's nature to defy authority. sure, she thinks treacherous thoughts, but taking action is inconcievable for her. emery knows she is not brave or fearless. she is not one to stand up against the capitol, of all things, simply to make a statement that will undoubtedly result in her demise. they say a leopard can't change its spots. can emery, after being a good little citizen for most of her life, turn as rogue as this girl in front of her? after all, she has nothing to lose.

but the answer is still no.

even as she dies emery cannot break her own habits, habits that keep her confined on a path just as everyone else is. so much for being exceptional; emery is just another pawn of the capitol. aspen's not a pawn - more like a knight. she is able to overcome the obvious obstacles in front of her and leap headfirst into new situations. now, would aspen be a black or white knight?

this is not the time to become absorbed in chess metaphors, emery.

she can't do it and she knows it. it's a stupid idea, something aspen will pay for in the arena, and something of which emery wants no part. she does not want her demise attributed to a mad girl from district seven who dared to defy the capitol.

so why does she meet aspen's gaze?

emery can practically feel her intentions spilling out through her irises. it's almost a physical sensation, a strange tickling that creeps down her cheeks and turns them red as she breaks that burning gaze, because she can't do this, and she is ashamed. she is not aspen, nor will she ever be. she is herself, emery griffiths, a girl who was smart but turned out to be nothing more than just another kill in the arena. she is emery, the coward, who when offered an opportunity to rebel against the opression of the capitol, was too scared to take it.

coward coward coward coward

scared, aren't you, em?

it's stupid. it is. emery shouldn't care. she does not need allies, especially one as mad as this. she doesn't need anyone. her mind whirls, weighing the options. what does she owe to this girl from seven who she only met yesterday? why should she get herself get killed for someone else's futile rebellion? it doesn't add up; emery should not even be considering this option, as it's clear which path is the logical one.

going down without a struggle; emery-lee griffiths, just another corpse on the battlefield

she's afraid aspen's rubbed off on her and that she's going insane.

panem today panem tomorrow panem forever

she can't do it. she can't. not now; not like this, for emery is not yet brave enough to openly defy the capitol right under the gamemaker's noses. but her choice is made.

her eyes meet aspen's again. she does not nod. she does not make any outward movement that might clue a watcher in on her decision. yes, i will. i swear it.

her gaze wavers from the other girl's. every sense feels heightened, as if she's been awakened to the world for the first time. her mind tells her it's adrenaline. she's done something insanely stupid, something she cannot take back.

emery leans the blowgun back up against its rack, turns on her heel, and walks quickly away, as if she has a purpose. the eyes of the other tributes follow her.

stupid! you idiot, what were you thinking

as soon as she returns to her floor she'll get her mentor to request aspen as an ally.

[glassea]

dresses are ridiculous, she thinks, looking at herself in the mirror. she looks nice. kind of. with her hair wrestled into an artistically shaped knot, the space around her face looks blank. there's nothing where her hair used to hang, which hardens the edges of her face.

she remembers the body of a thirteen-year-old girl, once-blonde hair bloody and tangled, sprawled on the dusty ground of the cornucopia

the dress - she refuses to think of it as hers - is okay, as in, it could have been a whole lot worse. it's a muted gold, light enough to be metallic like the computer chips her father makes, but not enough to reflect a lot of light. "don't want the audience being blinded by your dress, do we?" her stylist had said with a giggle [rather odd, considering he was a man with obviously fake muscles]. there's strands of gold something-or-other in her hair and she doesn't know what they are. she hopes they haven't dyed her hair, though she wouldn't put it past them. shouldn't emery have other things to care about seeing as she's about to die? she turns, still barefoot, and looks at the shoes she is supposed to be wearing in horror. heels. three-inch heels. she can't walk with normal shoes on. how in the world is she supposed to prance around stage with these?

"go on," says her stylist, tapping his fingers against his grotesquely swelled bicep. he sounds impatient, eager to get going, eager to throw emery out and show his work off to the world.

the first step emery takes when getting into high heels is to sit down. the shoes look slightly less intimidating when she's lower to the ground, though not by much. gingerly she slips her foot into one and presses down lightly. her foot wobbles. oh, this will be great fun. glancing up at her impatiently nodding stylist, she yanks the other one onto her foot and stands. it's not too bad when she's stationary, but she takes a step and wobbles slightly.

"ready to go!" trills her stylist in an octave she had no idea he could reach. he yanks on emery's arm, pulling her and making her misstep once more. down the hall they go, emery trying desperately to stay on her feet, into the main room where her mentor awaits - or should await, in theory. in reality only blythe is there. blythe is the escort for three, and one of the most rotund people emery has ever met. here in the capitol, this is not attractive. emery's never quite figured blythe out, another enigma she'll never have the chance to unravel.

as if emery hasn't figured all of this out on her own

blythe gets to her feet and smiles cheerily at emery. "my, don't you look pretty! jax should be coming -"

jax turns the corner.

"lovely!" and then she and jax are both being dragged into the glass elevator. the lift moves quickly; emery'd love to get a look at the mechanisms involved. her stomach seems to fly up with an extraordinarily uncomfortable sensation as they descend.

the elevator gives a pleasant ding as its doors slide open. with a "good luck!" blythe is off, back to the rooms. so much for an escort.

she and jax split up almost instantly - they haven't spoken since that first day of training - and emery heads towards the front of the room. being from three, she will be called towards the beginning of the tributes. there's no one she knows [which isn't surprising, considering emery is on speaking terms with only aspen] and so she ends up staring at the wall.

at this point she's used to aspen's odd introductions. some people cough or clear their throats to indicate their presence; aspen comes up behind the person and touches them. kinda creepy, if you think about it. whether she tries or not, the girl is a ninja. emery turns, taking in the taller girl's shimmering dress. aspen does not look like herself. she is not the mad creature who broke the capitol's seal, nor is she the ostentatious girl who bowed to the gamemakers. she looks like a dryad, or something good and sweet and caring. that's not aspen.

"your dress looks nice," emery says, keeping her eyes down. for some reason she cannot seem to meet aspen's eyes now that they are out of the training center. automatically she glances around to see if anyone's monitoring their conversation: the capitol has likely bugged this room, but the other tributes are not paying them any attention.
that's good. alliances are not publicized, and emery does not want to be singled out as a target from the start.

if aspen says anything in reply, emery can't hear it, because the music bursts into an arpeggio. a man in polished black shoes practically leaps onto the stage, so excited are his steps. "welcome!" cries ceasar flickerman, host of the interviews and the face of the games.

and may the odds be ever in your favor

the show has just begun.