sinking feeling /d9 train

The District Nine car is pretty much how Avriel remembers it. The table spanning a quarter of the car is overladen with food because it's the Capitol's way of displaying its power. He scoops up a handful of ripe strawberries and hands one to Scout before leaning against the wall to eat. From his place, he has a good vantage point of the car's entrance.

The tributes, his tributes, should be arriving any minute as long as Aneesa's little spell didn't hold them up. Part of him is already trying to figure out if that's something she can use. Avriel's never been very good with crowds and has never considered himself charming, but a few of the other victors gave him pieces of advice for mentorship on his tour.

"Find what makes them different, find what turns them into something for people to cheer for and push it. You have to get them that sponsorship at any cost."

He frowns and pops the last strawberry in his hand into his mouth. Last year, meeting Colgate had been like meeting a legend. Colgate was a victor before Avriel was even born but he's nothing like him. He's too fresh, just won last year and is the same age as his tributes, what reason could they have to rely on him, let alone respect him?

Nerves ripple over him and he shuts his eyes for a brief moment.

You don't belong here.

"Nah, they don't have to give a fuck about me," he tells Scout and reaches down to give him a blueberry, "Just gotta keep 'em alive, right?"

Then all this shit can be their problem.

Avriel takes a seat in one of seats furthest from the car's entrance and slides down a little in it. He'll give them their space until they want him.

As he waits, his early rise starts to get to him and Avriel's eyes fall shut. Sleep for him has only gotten worse since the games ended. He tends to get it in little pockets instead of a long rest so he lets himself doze, knowing he'll probably wake up when the train starts moving.