We'd Be So Less Fragile [Thomas]

What, no rolling of the eyes? Where was the annoyance, the snide remark? Eve's tiny blue eyes widened up at the stranger - no, not a stranger; his name was Thomas - and she felt unbelievably alone. The cruelty was something familiar, like the taste of medicine when she had a particularly harrowing cough. Bittersweet, disgusting, but she was always prepared for it. She was not expecting any of this, the manners.

So she lifted her head up a bit more, stopping herself from looking back at her feet. It was difficult, as if the muscles in her neck had been crooked for so long that it was perfectly natural.

Everything looked different. Frightening. Her world consisted of books and family, not dangerous Careers and impossible training situations. No 'hello's. She would just have to learn.

No, not true. She took it back. It was time to learn right now.

Her hands crumpled into little fists, and she crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn't cold, in fact the air was muggy. Moisture stuck to her bare arms; sweat was beginning to form underneath her t-shirt.

"Uh, yeah. I haven't done this before." She paused. "I'm Eve. And, uh.. why the fifty-ninth Games? I mean.. why not the fifty-eighth?"

Seconds had already passed; they were wasting time, even Eve knew that. She glanced down the path, and her heart did a little leap. She had definitely started a conversation, but she kept forgetting that this wasn't the bigger challenge.

It was just going to get worse.

It was just starting to sink in, the decision Eve had made. She shuddered, then took another look at the walls around her. It was like a huge stone cage, with no way out. What did the actual tributes feel like?

Truthfully, she never wanted to know.

It scared her, thinking that this boy in front of her actually wanted to be a tribute. He had been training for years to be sent to hell on earth, hadn't he? Most of them did. And there she was, a girl afraid to meet the eyes of her classmates. Many of which were Careers, and even stronger. More cunning and hateful. Thomas didn't seem to be anything like them, but she wondered if it was all an act. She decided that he would probably be successful in the Games, when he finally got in. They would all trust him. Until he slit their throats, right?

Eve destroyed the thought almost immediately. Not the best way to go about putting faith in humanity.

The pain can be pretty scary the first time around?

That idea didn't sit well with her. She imagined her arms, gashed open and bleeding. Her face, covered in dirt. Bruises everywhere. An ache every time she moved an inch.

Well, at least she wouldn't die in there.

"Does that mean that you're not afraid, then? You probably don't even feel fear, anymore, do you?" she asked, social phobia thrown out the window. She was simply curious, but she felt as if she were stepping onto some unspoken ground. Something that Careers didn't even like to admit. Or maybe it didn't matter - perhaps they were all fearless, or fear didn't effect them. That's what she wanted, at least. She wanted the fear to go away.

Uncrossing her arms, she picked up the weapon that was leaning up against the wall to her right. It was a spear, and she had absolutely no idea how to use it. Not that it was rocket science or anything. Sharp edges kill. She hoped to all goodness that she wouldn't hurt herself with it.

"Are you ready?" she asked, knowing a second later that it didn't even matter. Of course he was.

"Nevermind.. I- I'm ready now."

Eve's fingers wrapped around the spear (after a long second of wondering how she was even supposed to hold it, much to her dismay) and eventually found that it was most comfortable to grasp it near the end, away from the sharp point, underneath her arm. Throwing it was an impossibility if she needed to - the weak muscles in her arms could attest to that.

His blatant excitement that she was ready almost made her laugh, but all that really happened was a sliver of a smile. Mostly because, well, what was the spirit exactly? Grudgingly heading towards something so full of pain and fear? I guess it's a step up.. she thought. No longer standing there semi-awkwardly, she moved forward, but then stopped a few paces later. Did he want to lead the way? The question flashed through her mind only a second before she knew the answer. This wasn't his training exercise, not at all. This was hers. Slowly, she picked up her feet and walked forward again, ignoring the sword that he had already unsheathed. It was a battle between what irked her more: the fact that a huge, deadly sword was right behind her, or the notion that they would soon need both of their weapons to fight something monstrous.

Yeah, the second one was worse.

So he wasn't afraid - at least, not here. Not in the walls that were probably familiar to him. No doubt it was an effective way to train, to abolish that fear of being hurt - something that she needed more than anything else in the world. Even if the means of achieving it were a little out there. Perhaps she was mistaken, but she felt different already. She had conquered something, obviously. But maybe everything had simply been put into a different context. Fear taken to a whole new level makes a joke out of everything else.

Eve took tiny steps, still hesitant to move forward. It will be fine, it will be fine. Stop worrying, she chanted to herself, and gradually she moved faster. Her stride became stronger, more pronounced. She twisted her head around to look at Thomas.

"What about the Games? Are you, I guess, kind of afraid of them?" She regretted asking, though curiosity was a killer. She wanted to know, and somehow she had the gall to speak up.

Shaking her head quickly, she changed the subject. "What's going to happen in here? I mean.. what should I expect?"

Eve wrinkled her nose to keep from sneezing as a gust of wind whipped by her face. "I've never thought about it that way." Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper. Everything was suddenly so real and vivid. The stones that formed the walls stood out in startling detail, the colors below her feet and all around her brighter, every sound amplified so that every thump of a step ahead sent jitters through her limbs.

Not like the Elevens who get offed in the bloodbath..

Not people, not tributes, not teenagers. No, they were Elevens. It was probably easier to think about that way. She stopped smiling, but he wouldn't see it, anyways. She was in front, taking the lead. How long would it be until they confronted the first mutt?

Still, her smile reappeared at the thought of the District Twelve victors. "Ha. If all of the starving District Twelvers can win, then I should be able to, right?" she said, mostly for show. If he thought that she wanted to win, he would be more helpful, wouldn't he? She cringed at the thought of her own twisted lie.

Eve never paid attention to the Games. She had to watch them, but she usually ended up huddling away from the television with her brother, covering her ears or talking with him. Anything to distract her from watching the helpless children die. What surprised her most was that Thomas actually believed wholeheartedly - or he seemed to - that she was going to train and go into the Games. Certainly he thought that she would never be a Victor - the if instead of when earlier was proof enough of that - but she had already taken the first step. She was in a mini-Arena offering herself up to mutts and horrible pain and God only knows what else. There was no room to doubt her motives.

"Yeah, it's my first time," she mumbled, jumping slightly at the sound of an animal-like noise. No matter how much she didn't want to be, she was just another teenager who jumps at an unfamiliar sound. "What's that?" She turned around quickly, eyes wide.

Her fingers tightened around the weapon in her hand.

As terribly nice as it was to actually have a human conversation with someone, Eve's attention was already gone. A sharp bellow rang through the air. It was nothing that naturally lived in District Two, she was sure of that. The sound was something that she only knew from watching the Games, some kind of primate mutt noise. It was the kind of thing she would try to stifle by covering her ears and crumpling in a corner away from it all, back in her cozy little home.

This time, she stumbled backwards a few steps, almost back into Thomas before she stopped herself. It was a sickly looking thing, the monkey. It wasn't a mutt, or at least she didn't think so. Monkeys only existed to her in books. Was this how they were supposed to look? It was small, odd-looking, with patches of brown skin covered sporadically with coarse hair. Dumb but deadly.

Blood whipped ferociously through her veins, and suddenly she closed her eyes. She was only dreaming, she told herself. If she ignored it, the creature would leave her alone. No big deal.

You want the first move?

Eve felt like yelling, screaming, slapping him across the face for the stupidest question ever. He stood like a rock, calm and steadfast. And her? She was frozen, eyes slammed shut, heart beating way too fast, feeling as if death was trying to humor her. Maybe she would keel over and die in there: death by fear.

It felt likely.

Lips clenched tight to keep from screaming, Eve didn't want to reply. She opened her eyes, shook her head no. Her weapon rested quietly by her side.