losing all the things that mean the most . } d9 train blitz

Best I can do is tune all of it out, that’s how I feel. Today’s all speeches and sad names and unfortunate circumstances, but I don’t have to feel the tension in my heart if I don’t want to. This isn’t anything I can control, so that’s how I’m gonna think – I’m teaching myself to let the bad things pass through me like a breeze, and I’ll do what I can to help when I can.

It’s not my fault, I tell myself. It’s not my fault if something goes wrong.

Relinquishing responsibility feels good – necessary, I guess – and it acts as the shield that protects me from the way my tributes look as they take the stage, volunteers for whatever hell the Gamemakers have concocted this year. They’ve got brave faces. Two volunteers. I can work with that.

Oh, a sliver of a thought passes through my mind, a memory of that stage, but I crush it down so it doesn’t seize my heart. A flicker of a smile rises to my lips as the ceremony ends and the crowd disperses. I seek out my family, required attendees as ever, and I kiss my mother on the cheek and make sure to give everyone a hug. Mom gives me a knowing look and hands me a bag with a number of items inside.

“You make sure to give these gifts to Cordelia,” Mom says, giving me a pat on the cheek. I think everyone misses her, not just me, but they must all be tired of me telling ‘em how I wish she could be here with me. I nod and give everyone one last hug, and Peacekeepers lead me to the train.

The sleek interior of the train never ceases to surprise me. It’s another one of the Capitol’s fine elegant things, much like the woman I love, but I don’t feel comfortable in the train like I do when Cor’s with me. When I’m all by myself I just feel like a dumb backwoods boy from District Nine all over again.

God, she makes the world feel like I belong in it.

I’ll get to see her soon, and that’s why I’ve got a silly smile on my face. My footsteps are light and my heart doesn’t feel tense like it usually does, and I think that’s why I don’t feel a sense of dread when one of my tributes enters the train car. I turn towards her, holding my chin up as I get a better look at her.

Definitely brave, this one.

“So, what can you teach me that I don't already know?" she asks, sharp and resolute.

I laugh, absentmindedly picking up a knife and a piece of bread to butter.
”That depends on what you already know,” I say, taking a bite from the bread and fidgeting idly with the knife in my other hand. ”What are your strengths?”