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imitation violets - (ines + xov)
Feb 2, 2024 22:24:44 GMT -5
Post by xov thao 12b [Bella] on Feb 2, 2024 22:24:44 GMT -5
X O V t h a o
The first day in the training center had been a lot. Almost a full eight hours of what was mostly new information, weapons Xov didn’t even know the real names for, movements her body had never performed. Niam and Txiv’s voices in her head willed her to be grateful to the instructors for their impartiality towards each tribute, and for showing her techniques that might save her life in the upcoming weeks. Still, it was hard to be enthusiastic about learning something new when the reason for doing it was a 24-person death match.
She missed the meadows, forests, and soft rolling hills of Twelve. During the summer back home, she would be spending the entire day outside, collecting plants for her mother, walking to town along the gravel roads, lounging on the porch in the afternoon eating the sour green apples that tumbled from their tree.
Not that she had taken that all for granted—she had been taught to show gratitude to the universe for its gifts. But looking back, she wished she would have spent more time outside before being trapped in this metal building, where everything here had rough edges. Even the colorful geometric furniture almost begged you not to sit on it; not to get too comfortable.
It wasn’t like her to sneak around. She was born unlucky, and had a knack for getting caught when she tried to devise any sort of scheme. But since she had already been Reaped, was there anything left for misfortune to hold over her head? And if so, she was willing to bet they were saving it for the arena.
Don’t be so morbid, she reminded herself. You’re not breaking any rules. Probably.
Every muscle in her body seemed to ache as she traversed the dark hallway, searching for the plant room, greenhouse, whatever it may be. The idea had occurred to her in the medicinal plants station—they had to be growing those somewhere, right?
She passed some unmarked doors with no luck, then came across a series of rooms that seemed to be related to the training stations. They were all locked, but she could sneak a peek through the small porthole windows. Storage rooms—one for weapons; one for helmets, elbow and knee pads; one with new, unscathed targets; one with cleaning supplies; and another with…roller skates?
Finally she found a door with a relief in the shape of an aloe vera plant. Seems promising, she thought, cautiously pushing the handle. It wasn’t locked, but she wasn’t surprised, really. It would be hard for the tributes to kill each other with rosemary and thyme—of course, there were poisonous plants, but maybe they kept those in a different room. It was possible that the kitchen used the same greenhouse.
A puff of warm, humid air kissed her cheeks. When her eyes began to discern the room in the dim light, Xov gasped. The room was like its own self-sufficient ecosystem. The ceiling was a simulation of ultraviolet sky that shimmered with the fading light of actual dusk. Around her feet was plush green grass, mowed to a few inches like the yards in the Victor’s Village. It made up a series of winding footpaths that ran between raised garden beds full of edible plants. Wow, they really went big in the Capitol.
It was more than she could have hoped to find. Chamomile, calendula, peppermint, bergamot, lavender. She said their names in greeting as she passed them, fingertips brushing against the soft flowers. When she came to the last one, she plucked the head from its stalk and brought it to her nose, inhaling its calming sweetness. The scent was so rich that it almost brought tears to her eyes.
It was a shame that her talents would go to waste if she died in the arena, when she could have helped people like Niam did. Or if she had been born in the capitol, maybe she could be in a room like this every day, gathering the plants to make tea, food, and medicine.
But then she was glad she had been born at home in her mother’s bed, surrounded by the gifts of the earth, rather than in this cold, metallic metropolis with its simulated beauty and the stench of blood on its hands.
For now, this green facade was convincing enough for Xov to pretend that she was somewhere else. She sank into the grass and kicked off her sneakers, peeled off her socks, spread the leathered soles of her feet into the imitation earth. It was cool against her skin, and the humid air felt like a genuine river-valley summer. Leaning her head back against the wooden wall of the flowerbed, she could almost fall asleep, and might have, if it weren’t for the sound of the door opening again.
She bristled, suddenly alert, and peered into the darkness, cursing under her breath. She had the worst luck. Had someone seen her come in? She didn’t know whether to play dumb or act natural, like she hadn’t been aware of breaking any rules.
When the figure came into fuller view, she relaxed a little. The girl’s name escaped her, but she knew she was from one of the lower districts too. She gave her best guess.
”Hey.” Her voice was burdened by a long day of exertion, but she managed a welcoming smile. ”You’re from Eleven, right? I’m glad you found me here. I’m getting kinda sick of talking to people about weapons.”
She reached over and plucked a stalk of peppermint leaves, popped two in her mouth and began to chew. Then she held out one of the stalks to the girl, a peace offering. Her eyes were drawn to the cluster of fake stars overhead, just beginning to emerge.
”Don’t tell anyone you saw me here, will you? It was the closest thing I could find to home.”
The first day in the training center had been a lot. Almost a full eight hours of what was mostly new information, weapons Xov didn’t even know the real names for, movements her body had never performed. Niam and Txiv’s voices in her head willed her to be grateful to the instructors for their impartiality towards each tribute, and for showing her techniques that might save her life in the upcoming weeks. Still, it was hard to be enthusiastic about learning something new when the reason for doing it was a 24-person death match.
She missed the meadows, forests, and soft rolling hills of Twelve. During the summer back home, she would be spending the entire day outside, collecting plants for her mother, walking to town along the gravel roads, lounging on the porch in the afternoon eating the sour green apples that tumbled from their tree.
Not that she had taken that all for granted—she had been taught to show gratitude to the universe for its gifts. But looking back, she wished she would have spent more time outside before being trapped in this metal building, where everything here had rough edges. Even the colorful geometric furniture almost begged you not to sit on it; not to get too comfortable.
It wasn’t like her to sneak around. She was born unlucky, and had a knack for getting caught when she tried to devise any sort of scheme. But since she had already been Reaped, was there anything left for misfortune to hold over her head? And if so, she was willing to bet they were saving it for the arena.
Don’t be so morbid, she reminded herself. You’re not breaking any rules. Probably.
Every muscle in her body seemed to ache as she traversed the dark hallway, searching for the plant room, greenhouse, whatever it may be. The idea had occurred to her in the medicinal plants station—they had to be growing those somewhere, right?
She passed some unmarked doors with no luck, then came across a series of rooms that seemed to be related to the training stations. They were all locked, but she could sneak a peek through the small porthole windows. Storage rooms—one for weapons; one for helmets, elbow and knee pads; one with new, unscathed targets; one with cleaning supplies; and another with…roller skates?
Finally she found a door with a relief in the shape of an aloe vera plant. Seems promising, she thought, cautiously pushing the handle. It wasn’t locked, but she wasn’t surprised, really. It would be hard for the tributes to kill each other with rosemary and thyme—of course, there were poisonous plants, but maybe they kept those in a different room. It was possible that the kitchen used the same greenhouse.
A puff of warm, humid air kissed her cheeks. When her eyes began to discern the room in the dim light, Xov gasped. The room was like its own self-sufficient ecosystem. The ceiling was a simulation of ultraviolet sky that shimmered with the fading light of actual dusk. Around her feet was plush green grass, mowed to a few inches like the yards in the Victor’s Village. It made up a series of winding footpaths that ran between raised garden beds full of edible plants. Wow, they really went big in the Capitol.
It was more than she could have hoped to find. Chamomile, calendula, peppermint, bergamot, lavender. She said their names in greeting as she passed them, fingertips brushing against the soft flowers. When she came to the last one, she plucked the head from its stalk and brought it to her nose, inhaling its calming sweetness. The scent was so rich that it almost brought tears to her eyes.
It was a shame that her talents would go to waste if she died in the arena, when she could have helped people like Niam did. Or if she had been born in the capitol, maybe she could be in a room like this every day, gathering the plants to make tea, food, and medicine.
But then she was glad she had been born at home in her mother’s bed, surrounded by the gifts of the earth, rather than in this cold, metallic metropolis with its simulated beauty and the stench of blood on its hands.
For now, this green facade was convincing enough for Xov to pretend that she was somewhere else. She sank into the grass and kicked off her sneakers, peeled off her socks, spread the leathered soles of her feet into the imitation earth. It was cool against her skin, and the humid air felt like a genuine river-valley summer. Leaning her head back against the wooden wall of the flowerbed, she could almost fall asleep, and might have, if it weren’t for the sound of the door opening again.
She bristled, suddenly alert, and peered into the darkness, cursing under her breath. She had the worst luck. Had someone seen her come in? She didn’t know whether to play dumb or act natural, like she hadn’t been aware of breaking any rules.
When the figure came into fuller view, she relaxed a little. The girl’s name escaped her, but she knew she was from one of the lower districts too. She gave her best guess.
”Hey.” Her voice was burdened by a long day of exertion, but she managed a welcoming smile. ”You’re from Eleven, right? I’m glad you found me here. I’m getting kinda sick of talking to people about weapons.”
She reached over and plucked a stalk of peppermint leaves, popped two in her mouth and began to chew. Then she held out one of the stalks to the girl, a peace offering. Her eyes were drawn to the cluster of fake stars overhead, just beginning to emerge.
”Don’t tell anyone you saw me here, will you? It was the closest thing I could find to home.”
