No Saviors - a Hunger Games AU

Chapter 2: Goodbyes

Tourim stood in the room. Waiting for someone to come through the door. His foot tapped as each excrutiating second passed. He was alone. He would be alone again once his parents said their goodbyes. He would be dead in, what? 5 days? Struck by a stray arrow? Hunted down by Jade and whoever had joined her alliance? She would win and his death would have been a fleeting moment of excitement. He wondered if he could woo the crowd, as that boy from 12 had done last year, claim his love for Jade, a girl he vaguely knew from a brief interaction with his parents? No. No one would buy that a second time. Tourim needed a plan. A plan to kill Jade. Jade was dangerous.
But would there be more Careers? What about the districts 7 and 11? Their tributes were usually stocky and hardened. Heck, even district 12's last tributes were decent. What could Tourmin hope to possibly bring to the table? A talent for cutting facets into pieces of jewelry? He was from District 1, so perhaps sponsors were the way to go?
The door opened, a Peacekeeper let his family in.

"Two minutes." Tourim's father gave a gentle pat to the Peacekeeper's back.

His parents wasted no time, pulling him into a tight hug. He felt a growing wetness on his head, and felt tears burning his eyes. He found he didn't even need to sob for them to come, but he started to anyway.
It was a long time before his parents let go, and his father grabbed his shoulders.

"Use your talents."

"What talents? Should I make them a nice necklace while I'm there? Maybe I'll find a diamond in the arena I can cut into pretty shapes." His father was taken aback, but then his grip tightened on his shoulders.

"What did you notice about Gaius today?"

"Gaius? He was like the rest of us, scared, unsure of what to do, he knew there was nothing he could do."

"And what's the difference between fluorite and diamond?"

"What does this have to do with anything?" He could feel his anger growing. He was angry at the president for not allowing volunteers. Angry at Gaius for acting like he was so helpless when he should've been able to do... Something. And he was angry at his father for asking stupid questions instead of telling him what he should do.

"What's the difference, Tourim."

"The tips look frosted!" He felt his breath catching in his chest, he felt like he couldn't get enough oxygen, like every breath was too shallow, meaningless.

"Exactly, my boy. That eye of yours." Tourim had trouble understanding his meaning. The room was spinning, but he had something to focus on now, his father was giving him guidance, once again.
Tourim thought back to the first day he laid his hands on the diamond dremel. His first gem was abysmal, and he'd cried after seeing the attempt. His father just laughed and asked him why he was crying. When he told him it was because of how bad it was, his father kissed him on the head and told him he would get better with practice. At the time, Tourim had no idea how to make it better.
His father kissed him on the head now, and again, Tourim hadn't any idea how he could make this better. "Remember the first time we let you watch the Games?"

Tourim remembered that, he was 14, remembered rolling his eyes at the boy from District 2, he was so busy cheering that he'd won that the boy he'd wounded was able to just run up and stab him in the back. The boy was in bad shape, but he was still alive. Tourim remembered arguing with his classmates about how obvious it was that the other boy was going to do that.

"You have a good eye, you're careful, and you're a quick learner. Just listen to your mentor. You. Can. Do this." His father said, his words Tourim felt in his hair. He felt his father press something into his palm.
The door opened once again. He was glad the Peacekeeper let his mother and father get one more embrace in before he lead them out.
Tourim looked down into his hand. His father had given him that first gem. He thought his father would have thrown it away... It glittered red in his hand, polished, but dreadfully misshaped. He clutched it tightly and shut his eyes.

You. Can. Do this.

* * * * *

No one else came, so he was brought back out of the room. Jade was brought out at the same time. She looked familiar, if vaguely. She looked like her mother, with her blonde waves, the gentleness so mismatched with her visage. She was pretty enough, but her face held no care in her eyes. Tourim supposed this was all just apart of the life, nothing was really new, aside from the lack of volunteering.
Gaius met them outside, his cheery demeanour completely gone, his cheeks red from weeping. He came in and gave them a tight hug, and Tourim could catch the scent of flower perfume on his neck. He was aging, he'd been District 1's presenter for nearly 20 years at this point, but he showed no sign of slowing down, even with the gray hairs showing beneath his, obviously dyed, hair.

"I'm so sorry, oh Tourim, your family have given so much to District 1. I even commissioned a piece for my niece for her 10th." He looked to Jade. "I suppose this is all business as usual for you though."

Jade just blinked. Gaius laughed.

"Well, good luck. To the both of you. Once we're on the train, we'll start preparing a plan for our boy Tourim." He put a hand on Tourim's back and lead him towards the train. A single Peacekeeper stood, waiting. He handed a small envelope to Gaius.
He didn't bother reading it to the two tributes, instead, he covered his face and handed it back towards Jade. Gaius stormed into the cabin and disappeared into the train. Jade herself took a look and scoffed, more annoyed than distressed.

"If I believed in luck, I'd say you have the worst I'd ever seen." She said, shoving the note into Tourim's chest.
Heart pounding, he read it over. Then again to make sure. That settled it. He was already dead.

Rule #2 and 3: tributes are not to be assigned a mentor for the duration of the Games, nor a stylist upon their transit to the Capitol. There will be no Tribute Parade. Tributes are to report directly to the Training Center where they are to await further instructions via their district announcer.

Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor.