god given name ☆ relladon interview

I stared at my reflection, wondering who I was expected to be today.

White dress and dark hair slicked back, make up sharp and precise, skin clear. Leather and lace. Good and bad.

Right and wrong.

I could have built a graveyard with the ones I'd lost-- but an empire with the ones I had saved. My name, in recent years, had become a big one. Bigger one, at least. A name that people nodded to and thought they remembered hearing on the television while they were washing dishes.

They usually came to me weak, and I wouldn't let them leave without a fighting chance. Reese LaChance? Early grave, yet all it took was a couple of pointers and instead of being one of the cannons day one, he lived. Well, longer than he would have.

I shook my head, and a few stray strands of hair fell free from the glorified glue trap of products the stylists had used on me. One of them, a girl with short cherry red hair and silver eyeliner, slid them back into place and sprayed a bit more product on my head.

"I know you," I said to her, finally looking away from my reflection.

"Prep team. I've worked on some of your success stories."

"Which ones?" I asked, absentmindedly swallowing a pill down, trying to drown out the sounds of people and the painful pounding within my own skull. Truthfully, I didn't care who the girl had worked with. They lived or they did not, and if they had lived, she'd be wherever they were, plucking stray hairs and clipping fingernails.

I had respect for prep teams-- I did. They earned their pay. I just thought there were certainly more glamorous jobs for people with such glamorous taste.

"Gavin in the 67th, Reese in the 74th, then they reassigned me to Raven in the 75th."

For whatever reason, the names burned in my chest. I really did not feel like feeling. Something about her tone made it worthy enough for my eyes to flit over to her as she fussed over my sleeves. I taught Gavin how to follow through on an axe swing, Reese how to find edible flora, and Raven couldn't climb a tree if her life depended on it, which was ridiculous, considering they were from the lumber District, surrounded by fucking trees.

"Good ones," I haunted, eyes glistening for a moment with nostalgia, and then I was right back in my iron chrysalis and daring someone to try and find me within its depths.

"Miss Abarka, they're ready for you," a voice called.

I stood, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder as I went.

"Liked. I liked those a lot."

My headache had not yet let up, my blood pressure felt elevated, and I was wearing a several thousand dollar gown in front of people who did not know me, probably to talk about my, (fourth,) failed attempt at becoming a game maker. My nose snarled at the thought of Venus, but the doors were open in front of me, and any second now Sardonyx would be summoning me to the stage.

"Tonight, we will be accompanied by one of our newest talents and my protege, Bambi Salcedo!"

I took a few steps before realizing what the girl had said, stopping just soon enough to remain concealed. My head whipped around to the techies who surrounded me. Shaking at them, eyes narrowed, they shrugged.

Okay?

"But first, let me introduce one of our head tribute trainers with an inside look this year, Relladon Abarka!"

Oh-fucking-kay.

My lips stretched tight, pressed together and turned up into something like a snarl. Was this a joke? Was I really the warm-up act for the main event? And, further, was the main event seriously some kid who was good with a pair of fucking scissors?

"Ma'am," the techies coaxed. Clear your throat and go. Make her regret it.

Head held high, I waltzed onto the stage.

Ha, bitch looked like she was aging.

"Sardonyx!" I swooned, kissing both of her cheeks as we met center stage, "Thank you so much for having me!" I gritted my teeth. She smelled like cherries.

Fuck her.

I didn't wait for her to offer before I took a seat.

"How are things?"

Butterfingers in the basement, my mother wishing I would stop 'pretending to be in the games,' as I dropped yet another arrow from the quiver.

"Enough, Relladon!" her mother slammed a spoon down into the sink.

"You are seventeen! Stop playing make believe and go find yourself a job."

I called her that morning to tell her what time the show would air.

Humph. I guessed that was just the way it was for me, wasn't it? People underestimating me, undermining me, then just plain crawling under me once they realized how capable I really was. My eyes flitted over to Sardonyx. She would never die, would she? No, she was meant for greater things. She was meant to be bronzed and installed on the front lawns of college campuses and private libraries. She was meant o be remembered.

I had half a mind to slap her; half a mind to kiss her.

"Now, Miss Abarka, you've been a model trainer for over ten years- that's amazing!"

A genuine smile. Damn right it was amazing.

"That's around when I started, and of course I've tried different projects since."

I leaned forward, placing my hands neatly on my crossed legs. "I mean, yes, like you said:
I've been doing this for twelve years. It is absolutely insane looking back." I wondered if I should forgive her yet.

No.

Wait and see.

"Any rising Arbarka-brands we need to know about beforehand?" I smiled into the crowd. Of-fucking-course I did— "Yes! Oh, my goodness! I have three that I'm working with this year, actually." Eyes from Sardonyx to the crowd. They knew what I was good at.

"Basil Isley, oh, I wish I got more like her. Spunky, eager, quick witted! She's improved so much since she got here. And, if you haven't noticed, she's sort of a genius at botany, which is insane. She named me fifty plants off the top of her head without any sort of reference the other day, and she didn't even hesitate."

Easy, Relladon. I wasn't supposed to care about them. I was never, ever, ever supposed to care. I cleared my throat. Tomorrow, she would march into those games just the same as the rest of them.

I think she has a shot at going home, was what I wanted to say, but I stuck with: "She's definitely a contender."

A moment of silence. She could have made it home, and I believed that: I did.

I believed it with the Barker siblings, too, so.

"And I'm also working with the Kaiser Fray, and let me tell you: that confidence that's making everyone fall in love with him is definitely well-deserved." I noticed all of the teenage girls' heads popping up with cheer. Perverts. But then, Kaiser fray would have been loving every second of it, so I hardly faulted them.

"He is such a talent, Sar. But, well, we know the Fray family have been rather impressive already." Don't say anything else.

She smelled like cherries, for ripred's sake. She was the District One female stylist. She'd caused an uproar in the Training Center two years ago when she sponsored Pillar a damn jacket. She'd ricked her entire career to make sure the poor girl died in fashion.

"I would adore seeing a second Fray victor. And from what I've seen of Kaiser, he can kill with any weapon you put in his hands; even a few non-weapons, actually."

He was a meathead, sure, and he tried to get in my pants twice, but he was still a contender and he still had a soul, and he still had talent. He still deserved to live.

So did Basil, though.

"And I'm also working with Lace." An icon who only needed her first name. Pretty to look at, painful to touch. Ice in every sense of the word. "She can scrap with the best of them. Even got the jump on me a time or two. I seriously doubt she'll even need a weapon going into that arena. I don't know-- but I know she is quick, and she knows what she is doing. My arm is still a bit sore because of her, actually."

The crowd laughed at that. Good. Yeah. Look at me, being relatable, being honest. Ha. I hadn't taught these three shit. Their files could have told all of these people that if they were authorized to read them. Basil was a biologist back in Six, Kaiser was a fucking Fray and Lace lived in some weird-ass fight club orphanage that was under surveillance by the District Nine peacekeeper general. But the crowd didn't know that. Hell, for the most part, I didn't even know it.

I leaned back in my chair.

"I really think I might've gotten a golden ticket with one of them this year. Definitely."