Chapter Text
Parade Night: Voltaea
Voltaea Amprole knows they must be close to the parade area when the roar of the crowd overtakes the th-thumping of her heartbeat in her ears. The patch Alara stuck to her back has every sense she has working on overdrive - it’s too much. Orville and Coulomb walk to her left down the corridor, chatting away about how delightful Orville thinks their outfits are and how they’re so lucky to have such a visionary stylist. Coulomb chimes in - “They’re neat, but I’m tired of walking. The backpack is so heavy!”
“Then you need more practice with a heavy pack. You’re going to have to carry your own gear once we’re in the arena.” Voltaea had promised the boy she’d teach him something, now seems as good a time as any. Focusing on helping Coulomb has given her racing thoughts something to latch onto, at least.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Coulomb claps his hands together lightly to make a small bolt of electricity jump between them, a soft crack echoes down the corridor. “Do you think we should do this the whole time we’re on the chariots, or save it for a big show at the end?”
Voltaea shrugs “I wouldn’t overdo it - just find the right moment.” She pauses, remembering Alara’s last lesson to pass along to him. “And don’t hesitate when you do.”
“I’m sure the two of you are going to be a big hit no matter what you do!” Orville chirps, sounding slightly less sickly than usual. He’s wrong, of course - They’ll need to do something spectacular to stand out above the other twenty-two tributes. “The Capitol will adore you, just be yourselves!”
They approach a set of doors at the end of the hallway - Orville shuffles out in front of them to fling them open. The screams and chatter of the crowd immediately assault her ears, now even stronger than it was on their way here. They’re standing under an expansive pavilion - doors with each of their District numbers line the walls on one side, the chariots are lined up on the opposite. They aren’t the first to arrive - several other tributes have broken off into small groups and are chatting away while they wait for the rest to arrive. There’s a sizable presence of Peacekeepers roaming the area - a whole mess of them are standing near the exit to the parade route to keep the crowd in the stands outside.
Orville turns around to face them and starts chirping again. “I’ll have to take my leave now, but don’t worry! I’ll be right there waiting to take you both back home after the parade. You’re going to do great!”
Voltaea nods, she can’t think of anything else to say to him - Coulomb starts to cry softly, Orville hands him a handkerchief and chides him not to ruin his makeup as he makes his exit back through the District Five door. “V, are we really gonna be okay? Do you think they’re gonna like me?” Coulomb sniffles as he speaks.
“We’ll be fine. Do what Orville told you - be yourself.” But what would a mentor tell him to do if he had one who worked with him? What kind of persona would fit him? “You’re good at getting people to like you, just lean into that - be friendly, wave at the crowd, smile a lot, I don’t know.” She feels herself shaking as she speaks and hopes no one has noticed yet. “I’ll be the scary one, you be the nice one - we’ll go out there as a team, okay? The crowd likes to see District unity, we’ll give them that.” Alara won’t like me helping him, she says I should ignore him. She feels her heart thundering into her throat at the thought. This is the right call, she’ll get over it.
“Alright, but what about the rest of them -” Coulomb gestures around to the other tributes in the staging area, Seven has just arrived through their door a few yards away. The noise of the crowd and her too-fast heartbeat make it difficult to hear what’s happening around them. “- Should we try to find some friends?”
Voltaea shakes her head. “Not yet. We don’t know enough about the others - it’s worse to make an ally that betrays you than to have none at all. I want you to watch them - I’ll do the same. We can talk about who to approach in training tomorrow.”
Coulomb has managed to contain his tears, he looks a bit more focused - He works best with a plan too, I guess. “Okay. I’ll do my best!” It won’t save him in the end. Her stomach drops - chest tightens - the static rises in her ears again. She tries to dig her nails into her scar but shocks herself on the metal plating in her gloves and pulls back in surprise. The static clears. That’ll have to do.
They cross the pavilion together to the chariot waiting for them, Voltaea’s eyes scanning the room for anything she can pick up about their competitors. Coulomb is immediately distracted by the chariot - trying to find a way to climb on without grabbing anything. Let him figure it out. Her eyes fall on a group near the back of the staging area - the twins from Eight are talking to a small group of outer-district tributes, not that she can make out what they’re saying. Maybe he can? “Coulomb, can you read lips?” She sees a small drone float into the pavilion from the back - it looks like there’s a camera attached to the bottom. They’re watching us.
“Kind of, why?” He’s managed to balance himself on the platform without touching anything, after some struggle.
“Watch that group near the back, see if you can make out anything they’re saying. I’ll keep an eye on the others.” He gives her a determined nod and turns himself so he’s leaning on the side of the chariot and has a good view of them without looking too much like he’s staring. Good instincts, buddy.
She sees the peacock boy from One walking from the front of the line, full of unearned confidence with a giant smirk on his face. He’s wearing one of the loudest outfits in the lineup tonight - a sparkling bodysuit, dripping with jewels - and oh gods is that a cape? Who wears a cape? Coulombs voice cuts through her focus - “I can only make out some of it, one is sayi-”
Voltaea cuts him off, she can’t have any distractions right now. The cacophony of the crowd is hard enough to hear through without him interrupting. “Just watch - we’ll talk about it later.” She watches as Marcelus struts by their chariot and right up to Sarah from Seven, two chariots behind them. They’re close enough that she can hear what he’s saying - He’s loud in more than just appearance. He flips his hair dramatically as he speaks in a voice that he’s clearly forcing deeper than it naturally goes. “Hey baby, are you a tree? Because you’re giving me wood.” What the hells is he thinking? What kind of line is that? Does that ever work for him? He blows a kiss in her direction. She spots the drone again, floating over their exchange.
Sarah, to her credit, must also think this is the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. She steps right up to his face and laughs at him - it’s so loud you can hear the sharp sound of it echoing through the pavilion. For a brief moment, the swagger seems to drain out of his body - then he shrugs, plastering that idiotic grin back across his face as he turns back towards the front of the procession. She sees some of the other tributes giggling, or shaking their heads as they stare at him. Sarah’s District partner, Bashir, gives her a quick fist bump. They’re definitely a team.
Marcelus spots Voltaea just as she thinks he’s going to pass them by - turning on his heels dramatically to march in her direction. Bad idea. This guy is full of bad ideas. She shoots Coulomb a quick glance - he’s still occupied watching the group near the back, as ordered. At least someone here has sense. She can hear his boots clobbering across the floor over the roaring crowd - she tenses as he closes the gap between them.
Marcelus, in what seems like an attempt at subtlety, leans into her ear and whispers “Are you a wire? Because I’d like to strip you and make a connection.” Something about the way he so confidently spits such bile makes her clench - he’s gone from frustrating to infuriating . Alara wouldn’t tolerate him talking to her like this, why should she let him? She feels the back of her teeth start to itch, her fingers twitching - anticipating.
Voltaea glares at him, tension turning to fiery rage. Her mother would have told her to take it as flattery, like she had when a man at the market had said something crass to her - It’s not like you’re a catch, Voltaea, take what you can get and be happy with it. That’s not what she wants to do. She’s not here to tell me who I am anymore. She whispers back to him - no hesitation - her voice cold, her face steel - “No, but I know lots of ways to kill a man with one. And you’re gonna be my first test subject.”
Marcelus goes pale, shaken-looking - he was clearly expecting to be brushed off not threatened. He whirls around in a way that his cape smacks her in the side - and then - “Try me, you frigid bitch.” Leap off the chariot, take your shirt off - hells - light a man on fire if the mood strikes you! It’s Alara’s words that interrupt her thoughts this time. Find the right moment to set off that flash of brilliance. She hears a faint, whirring buzz - the camera drone is right overhead. This is the moment - No apologies, no doubts, no hesitation. She reaches out and claps her hands over the cape, making sure the metal plates on her palms connect through the fabric.
Crack! A bolt of electricity flies between her palms, setting the cape ablaze in seconds. Marcelus shrieks - a mix of screams and laughter echo through the space - Oh shit, what did I do? Why did I do that?! She feels the static start to rise in her ears again, her off-beat heart th-thumping so violently she can’t think - can’t breathe. Peacekeeper boots thud across the floor - their hands on her before she has a chance to react. A group of them rip the flaming cape from Marcelus and stomp it until the fire dies - smoke chokes the air - she’s being dragged towards the chariot.
Two officers grab her shoulders and push her up onto the chariot platform. “Don’t you dare fucking move -” The larger officer’s voice booms in her ears - “Stay right there with your hands at your side until the parade is over or we won’t hesitate to shoot - your choice.” She steels herself - eyes forward, don’t show them your fear - just like Reaping Day. She hadn’t lit anyone on fire on Reaping Day. It’s Reaping Day with extra guns pointed at you. Calm. She takes a deep breath, but she can’t get enough air into her lungs to relax. Calm. She brushes her fingers across the metal plate in her glove again just to feel something other than fear - the pain shocks her back into focus, slightly. Collected? She looks around at the other tributes, now all being ushered onto their chariots. Sarah from Seven catches her eye, giving her a thumbs up and a wink before a Peacekeeper shoves her into position. Did I just make us a friend?
Coulomb pokes a finger into her side to grab her attention. His face is distraught - terrified - “V, what did you do? Why did you do that!? The Careers are going to kill you!” I might have also made some enemies.
She catches a glimpse of the camera drone floating out of the pavilion onto the parade route. The whole world probably saw that. A faint smirk twitches at the corner of her lips. “Maybe. But the sponsors are going to love this.” She loops an elbow around one of the handles on the chariot to steady herself - careful to avoid touching anything with her palm - Don’t want the Peacekeepers getting antsy. Coulomb, still shaking, mirrors her strategy.
“I still think that was crazy bu- “ Coulomb’s cut off by the sound of the anthem blaring from the overhead speakers - it drowns out everything else she can hear. The two officers by their chariot stand at attention, but they’re careful not to take their eyes off of her. She closes her eyes, draws her focus back inward - the static in her ears starts to overtake the terrible, familiar tune that plays.
As the song ends, a loud, booming voice cuts through the speakers and rattles her skull. She opens her eyes - showtime . “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m proud to present your tributes for the 60th Annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in their favor!” She hears the roar of the crowd outside swell with every word the announcer speaks. “We’re here tonight to catch our first glimpse of greatness, so without further ado, let's bring out our tributes from District One - Cymbria Vale and Marcelus Glint!”
Voltaea stays stoic as she watches the first chariot roll out of the staging area. From where she stands, she can see that Cymbria’s cape is still intact - she’s completely thrown off their matching outfits with her little stunt. Worth it. She can’t see what’s happening once they pull outside - but she can hear the crowd's most animated reactions getting more and more distant as they ride down the parade route. Coulomb says something to her about how big the tributes from Two are as the announcer calls their names. She doesn’t react - doesn’t move - she’s not even sure if she can at this point without inviting the attention of the trigger-happy Peacekeepers patrolling around them.
District Three is called - to a more muted reaction from the crowd. Neither of them look very capable at their size and their stylist has gone for a very drab sort of look. I’d like to see if they have other talents. Her heart starts racing faster and faster the closer they get to their turn - the sidelong glance she shoots at Coulomb tells her he’s feeling the nerves as well. “Remember to smile, okay? You’re the likable one.” She keeps her eyes on him long enough to see him nod.
“And now from District Four, please welcome Nerisse Tidewalker and Mako Drift!” These two elicit a huge roar from the crowd - their stylists have gone for a much bolder approach. Mako stands shirtless, with glimmering green shorts made to look like fish scales and carrying a blunted harpoon in one hand. Nerisse has her wavy hair dyed to look like water, and wears a sundress of a similar material to her district partner. The real draw to the look are the multi-colored holographic fish projected in front of them by the headbands they wear, making it look like they’re swimming down the parade route. She has a better view of these two as their own chariot pulls up to the front of the line.
“We’re next. Don’t panic.” The thought pours out of Voltaea’s mouth - she’s coaching them both through this now, not just herself. She starts to shuffle in place on the platform - the urge to move getting stronger with every passing minute. “Just keep still, smile, and wave.”
“And now, fresh from their shocking debut in the staging area -” She sees a camera feed projected on the banners above the crowd showing her attack on Marcelus that cuts just before the Peacekeepers intervene. “- Voltaea Amprole and Coulomb Vexel!” The banners swap to a live feed of them on the chariot as it pulls out of the pavilion.
It’s deafening. There’s too much screaming - too much cheering - too much color - too much static - too much everything . Voltaea clenches her jaw to keep her face in line - eyes forward - not a single glance to the crowd. I hope she’s watching, I hope I’m pulling this off, Please let me just make it through this.
She catches a glimpse of their chariot on the banners as they reach the halfway point - Coulomb is waving wildly to the crowd with a huge grin plastered across his face. Keep going. The incoherent calls of the Capitol citizenry crash through her over and over again. You’re almost there.
They pull up beside District Four as their chariot reaches the President’s mansion, the crowd blessedly behind them where their screams can’t pierce her quite so deeply. Her heart refuses to calm, there’s no pattern to anything here - it’s all chaos. She can’t stop the shaking in her extremities - can’t tell if anyone sees her weakness - can’t calm herself.
She shuts her eyes again and tries to drown the noise in static. It’s not enough. She tries to think louder,trying to make sense of everything. I’ve made an enemy, maybe a friend, definitely a scene. Orville will meet us after the speech, then we can go back to the tower. I can see Alara again, I can ask her if I made her proud, I can… no. It’ll all be over soon, just breathe. It’s not until she hears the distinct whine of a microphone in front of her that she opens them again.
President Snow stands at the podium - she remembers this part from mandatory viewing, he’ll make a speech and then they’re done. She steels herself, eyes forward - trying to look like she’s listening in spite of her shattered focus. His voice is smooth, powerful - it reverberates through her bones when he speaks. “Hello - and welcome to this year’s tributes -”
The rest of his speech is a blur - the last remnants of coherent thought she has slip away from her. She can see his lips moving but nothing he says makes any sense at all - it’s just become part of the noise. After a few minutes, he takes a bow and ascends the stairs to the mansion. She still hasn’t moved. She’s not even sure if she’s blinked since they left the staging area.
Orville seems to materialize out of nowhere, chirping away, ushering them off the chariot and to a set of doors near the base of the mansion. “Chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp” Voltaea nods to him, unsure of anything he’s saying - all she can make sense of is the static in her ears and the thunder in her chest. Through the doors - down the stairs - into the tunnels once again. The Capitol loves its shortcuts. As the roar of the crowd recedes behind them she feels like she can almost breathe again.
Coulomb and Orville walk a few steps ahead of her - the boy is chattering excitedly, Orville chirps in reply - none of it makes sense, but she’s moving forward nonetheless. She goes to dig her nails into her palm and feels the faint shock from the metal plate ripple through her again - and rips the gloves off in response, tossing them to the side of the tunnel. She can finally calm herself properly - the sting of her scar when she does is the only relief she’s felt in hours.
She walks in silence the rest of the way to the tribute tower - Coulomb and Orville seem to have given up on trying to include her in the conversation, anyway. After what feels like an eternity they reach a set of elevator doors and step inside - Orville presses the button to take them back to their suite - finally . She closes her eyes to shut out the motion of the machine - too much like falling upward . The only thing she hears on the way up is the rapid th-thump th-thump of her heart - they’ve all gone blessedly quiet.
The suite is hardly recognizable from the chaos it was earlier. All of the styling equipment has been put away in their absence. A soft tune plays over the speakers, soothing, quiet, safe. Then she hears her - her voice a song unto itself - “There she is! My future victor returns triumphant! Voltaea darling - you’re the headline on every channel tonight!”
Alara steps out from behind the bar with a glass of wine in hand - still in full hair and makeup from her show but already changed into her silk bathrobe. Her stomach flips - throat tightens - nerves blaze. Alara shoots a glare at Coulomb when she notices him. “Orville, why don’t you drop the boy in his room so he can change out of that ridiculous outfit?”
“Of course, Alara - anything else you need tonight?” Orville motions for Coulomb to head towards the hallway.
“I need you to stop bothering me with questions, find something to entertain yourself with for a while.” Alara waves him off, staring daggers into the back of his head while he leaves with the boy. They’re alone in the lounge. Voltaea can taste bile on the back of her tongue - the tension in her gut worsens.
Alara stalks across the room to where she stands - frozen. She can hear the ragged edge of her mentor’s breathing - too close. Her voice snakes its way down Voltaea’s spine and makes her shiver. “Can I get you a glass, darling?” she swirls the wine glass in her hand. “I’d love to discuss what was going through your head when you pulled that stunt of yours.”
She can’t answer - her mouth won’t form the words. The churning in her gut forms itself into an aching, gnawing, heat. That sound, I can’t think - Alara raises an eyebrow at her as she speaks. “Are you listening, my sweet?” Voltaea watches her lips form around every word - oh no. “Or have your nerves gotten the better of you again?” She tries to come up with something, anything to distract herself, but the only thought that comes to mind is - Don’t hesitate. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten our conversation earlier, I’m not going to let you get away with keeping secre-”
Before she can finish her sentence, Voltaea grabs the back of Alara’s head - crashing their lips together before she has a chance to doubt herself.