A Little More In My Comfort Zone [VELVET GINGHAM/CHARADE]

s the weeks wore on, Velvet continued to excel at training and had more or less gotten used to Agnes’s presence. It would appear that her parents were glad to have her in the center, and glad that she had a mentor of sorts in Velvet. Somehow, Agnes had convinced her to hang out outside of the training center for card something or the other; she hadn’t really been paying attention.

But Velvet would try anything once. Once. 

She was still unsure as to why she’d agreed to it but fuck it, she’d humor the girl. Somehow, interacting with someone who wasn’t constantly competing with her for her mother’s attention was nice. Dare she say it; it was even…pleasant. Not that she would ever admit that out loud. Velvet didn’t make friends. People were either targets or potential allies. There wasn’t a middle ground.

Navarro’s. Velvet grimaced at the sign. Thought it might be one of the places that Nylon was always on about. The food was probably overpriced and unhealthy. A proper midday meal was a protein shake, but she didn’t expect someone as naturally frilly as Agnes to understand that. She glanced at the other girl’s outfit banana yellow outfit and the headband and suddenly felt underdressed for the occasion. Her track pants and blank white t-shirt weren’t exactly restaurant material. She shrugged the thought away after a moment. 

She was a Gingham. Gingham’s didn’t apologize for being who they were.

More than anything, Velvet was exhilarated about the reaping. The ultimate chance for fame and fortune. The ultimate test of her skills. “So this is what you do for fun,” Velvet mused, taking the seat across from Agnes and debating which training regimen to put her through the next time they were training. She was thinking something with sit-ups.

A lot of sit-ups.

Despite her misgivings, she bit back a scathing insult as she had agreed to come here in the first place, opting instead to talk about the only truly important thing in life. “The reaping’s not far off. We really should be practicing. But I guess a little down time never hurt anyone...”

as there anything else could have expected? Judging from her companion’s attire, something as lame as dancing as or—

Hmm. What did people do for fun when they weren’t careers? Stamp collecting? She was pretty sure that was something boring people did. Life can’t be all about swords and switchblades, Velvet,” The Gingham girl barely heard the second half of the sentence because she was staring at Agnes like she’d just grown another head. If you didn’t constantly train for the games, well, what was the fucking point?

She’d seen what happened to careers that aged out of the reaping. Many of them lost purpose. Took to drinking or other vices. Or worse, they turned into her mother. The waiter dropped off a little basket of bread rolls and Velvet glared at him, warning him not to get too close. Agnes laid out her deck and Velvet watched the action with a critical eye. There were fanciful drawings on each of them, though she had no idea what any of it meant. All of that horoscope nonsense was bullshit. Fate didn’t dictate actions.

People did. Velvet Gingham was the captain of her own ship.

The first card flipped over and Velvet read the words with growing annoyance. What kind of game was Agnes trying to play here? Was this an insult? “Yeah, yeah.” She griped. Agnes went on, talking about a lack of confidence or inexperience in the past. “Watch it.” Velvet growled in a low tone. Perhaps she didn’t want to stab the girl every time she saw her face anymore, but that didn’t mean Agnes knew the first thing about her.

Still…

So maybe a week or two ago she’d been restless. Maybe she’d wanted a change of pace. Was this the adventure she was seeking? Velvet scoffed. “I drip confidence,” she said jutting her chin out towards Agnes in contempt. “So what if fighting is the only thing I’m experienced in, there’s nothing wrong with that. So what if I can't dance or other bullshit like that. Nothing else is import—

Ah. A sudden stroke of clarity hit her. 

Was this part of the thing then? Putting vague ideas in a person’s head. Letting them fill in the blanks until they were convinced it was the cards and not their own mind coming up with it. There was a sort of deviousness behind it. Velvet stroked her chin thoughtfully. Playing those kinds of mind games with allies and enemies in the games could be very beneficial. Convince a person that your idea was theirs and they’d do want you wanted never the wiser.

Velvet grinned, her annoyance giving way to intrigue.  

“Okay hotshot. What’s the next one say?”

he bread was starting to smell good, even though it wouldn’t have been Velvet’s first, or even third choice for a snack. Maybe the next time the waiter came around, she’d actually order something. Agnes’s munched quietly on a roll, and Velvet re-appraised her. In the time that they’d gotten to know each other, she’d grown. She wasn’t ready to be killing people, but she was competent enough.

Not that she would ever admit it to anyone, but her mother’s eye for hidden talent was rarely, if ever wrong. Agnes was still too frilly, but Velvet had come to grudgingly respect her style. If only because it meant that most people would underestimate her. Velvet could totally see Agnes poisoning someone in the games, or something like that.

You know, right before a more bloodthirsty tribute impaled her on a pike or something.

Velvet shook the thought away and tried to focus on what she was saying.

Conflicting emotions; alright. She’d bite. She’d been pretty conflicted about whether or not to beat Agnes up and shove her in a locker for a few weeks. But the little princess went on, talking about the reaping and wondering aloud if that’s what Velvet was conflicted about. No. Velvet had seen what happened to careers who aged out. That wasn’t going to be her.  Stuck becoming her mother.

Ha!

She’d die first.

And she wasn’t going to talk about that with Agnes or anyone else.

Velvet glanced around, at the other patrons before taking one of the rolls from the basket and taking a bite out of it. It paid to pay attention, and while there was a very low chance that anyone in the area was a threat, it wasn’t a chance she was willing to take. It was strange, to see Agnes so comfortable. Like she knew what she was doing. Velvet supposed the other girl wasn’t completely useless for a non-traditional career.

“Okay,” Velvet said, surprised that she was enjoying herself more than she had expected. “What’s behind door number three?”

he games. Velvet dreamt about them on an almost nightly basis. Placing a crown on her head with bloodied hands, the corpses of the lower districts in a ring around her. It was her destiny. One day, she’d see the light leave her enemies eyes first-hand, hear them choke and die cursing her name; hear the crowds cheering her return. It had been far too long since Justice Fray had taken the crown, and the non-career districts were getting uppity. She’d put the fear of God back into their souls.

Or the fear of a Goddess.

Velvet folded her hands together on the table and stared intently at the pictures in front of her. She didn’t believe in this crap. It was for people who were too hesitant to make a decision on their own.

Still…

Yeah, it was bullshit. Had to be. She’d believe it when they pulled her name out of the reaping bowl. It was her last year after all. There were as many slips of paper with her name on it as there were going to be. Agnes had a point, whether she knew it or not. Velvet smirked. “Of course you’d like to watch me. Who wouldn’t?” The waiter reappeared at Agnes’s urging and Velvet demanded a tiramisu as the man scurried away.

“Who says I’m worried? This training is going to end lives and bring glory to our district.” Velvet drummed her fingers on the table and thought hard. This was not what she had expected when she’d agreed to humor Agnes. “You’re not so bad at—“ she moved two fingers in a little circle, “this.” Velvet finished lamely. “I dunno how much stock I put into all this, but…” Velvet waved a hand dismissively, unable to put her thoughts into words.

“Look, I don’t make friends,” she said, an annoyed frown creasing her face. “But I guess if I did, maybe—“ The waiter set her order down in front of her and Velvet glared at the interruption that had derailed her thought process. “I guess what I’m trying to say,” she grimaced, taking a spoonful of the dessert. “Is that I don’t feel the need punch you anymore.”

The pudding and coffee flavored crumble were surprisingly pleasant.

month ago or so, she would have had something snarkier to say about Agnes’s relief, but that was a month ago. She focused on her dessert instead, trying not to think about how many laps she’d have to do to balance it out. Agnes swallowed a mouthful like a surprised bird and Velvet smirked. The other girl sang her praises for a little bit and Velvet allowed it. Always nice to see that someone knew their place.

Velvet nodded approvingly. Fighting skills could only take a person so far. There was strategy to consider. But strategy changed depending on the tributes in each games. Each year, there were different threats. Different personalities. It was difficult to have any plan for that beforehand. “Manipulation. Sex appeal. Charisma.” She sounded off, examining her nails. ”Supposedly they’ve got a charisma trainer in the Capitol. Supposed to teach you how to win over the crowd and get sponsors.”

It was an interesting concept.

Velvet had extensively studied the lives of every female tribute district one had had over the last two decades and had come to the conclusion that if she wanted sponsors, she was going to have to kill several people and look good while doing it. A light romance for the cameras wouldn’t hurt either. But those latter two were things she had not spent a lot of time on.

“If any girl from one wants to win, she has to be ruthless like Stark Harper. Elegant like Avon Lightwood. Have skill and spirit like Opal Shore or Bette Sublino. Look stunning like Pillar Fray.” Velvet’s eyes lit up, she loved talking about her heroes. They weren’t all victors, but those that hadn’t won had come so close. Velvet stared into her food. “What about you, pipsqueak? How do you think you’d do in the arena?” She was curious, because in her opinion, Agnes would be lucky to make day three.