FIRE AND ICE, p. mellark

𝐢𝐯: 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

Orion escaped to his own compartment as soon as they entered the train, so Nemesis' goal was set aside. She allowed him to have time to himself while she entitled herself to wait in the primary car for her two tributes.

Her hand grazed over the smooth table as her eyes wandered. She'd been on tribute trains before, far too many times. However, it never seemed to appall her enough how much effort they put into making them luxurious. If only a fraction of that effort was put toward making life in the districts livable...

This lone train car was likely more expensive than her old house, from before her new life, with the extravagant crystal chandeliers, mahogany tables, velvet rugs, and anything else you'd find in a train- or rather, a small house.

Nemesis sat on a plush couch by a 'small' dining table, already loaded with pastries and fruits. Her hand traced a butter knife as she wondered what her tributes were going to be like. She hoped she wouldn't find out what her tributes- no, the tributes were truly like. It would make the whole ordeal exponentially more difficult.

Her eyes traveled, eventually landing on the new television, which displayed popular clips from other reapings. She couldn't fathom how quickly these clips were collected and cropped.

A girl with a small, skinny frame, olive-toned skin, and hair styled in a beautiful crown caught her eye. She stood tall, proud, and blank. Her striking gray eyes shone with fire, however, they betrayed what the girl was truly feeling, or so Nemesis thought. They gleamed strongly, not with fear, but with sadness.

Nemesis respected the way she held herself up, and how she didn't break down immediately upon entering the stage, because she saw the indicator of the girl's district in the lower corner of the screen.

District 12.

Whatever chance Nemesis thought the District 12 tribute may have disappeared because, really, how could she emerge victorious with a likely case of malnutrition and no sensible mentor?

Nemesis was intrigued by this girl, who the screen displayed as Katniss Everdeen, but she paid it no mind. Maybe she didn't realize how similar she was to Nemesis' own self. Maybe she read too far into it.

Maybe...she didn't care.

The camera panned out to the boy beside her, at which Nemesis almost laughed in pity. A relatively built boy, not too tall, obviously afraid, and obviously trying to hide it. No matter how hard he tried to seem devoid of emotion, his eyes clearly showed the alarm he felt.

Peeta Mellark, the words on the screen said.

A boy like that, despite his build and the present evidence of being well-fed, stood no chance in the games. 

What a shame, he was a handsome boy. Probably well-mannered. It didn't upset her, however.

The games were set in stone, the games were a part of life. The death and renewed lives they brought were merely a part of one extensive system.

If the Mellark boy died, he died.

If Nemesis stepped out of line and was targeted by Snow, then ultimately, she was nothing but a target.

If her brother disappeared the next morning, then ultimately, he was gone.

Panem was nothing but one extensive system beyond questioning. Their lives were nothing but pawns to said system. As long as Nemesis believed that, or pretended to believe that, she'd be safe.

She nearly jumped as she heard the door open, allowing in a jam of laughter and chatter from several voices.

"Let's get to work," Orion said, clearly having recovered from whatever troubled him before.