The Taste of Death ~ Hunger Games Fanfiction- Finnick/OC

Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

Scarlet Wolfe

Scarlet hadn’t been visited by anyone before being taken to the train that would take Crimson and her to the Capitol.

She’d made Cadmium and Crimson both promise not to visit her if she were reaped this year. Crimson hadn’t been given the option, having been reaped alongside her, but Cadmium had kept his promise.

She had already known that her parents and other siblings wouldn’t come. And besides her family, there was no one else that Scarlet was close to.

The few minutes that each tribute was granted to say what could be their final farewells, were spent under flickering, dim lights. Her heart pounded in her chest and Scarlet clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she forced her breath to steady. Her face was a mask of determination, and her lips curled into a grin.

There was no room for weakness. Fear and doubt were her enemies. And she would have to kill them as surely as she would have to kill the other tributes if she wanted to survive.

When the peacekeepers came to collect her, Scarlet was perfectly composed with a purposeful smirk upon her lips as she left the room and the Governor’s building where the final farewells always took place. With two peacekeepers at their backs, Crimson, Scarlet, and Penelope were all escorted to District 14’s train station without further delay.

Stepping onto the train, Scarlet was hit by a wave of heated air and an abundance of bright colors, and overwhelming scents. Her eyes widened at the sight before her.

In the train car she found all of it beyond any of her imaginations. The walls gleamed white, with golden trim, and perfectly crafted wooden furniture filled the room.

Everything sparkled with an unimaginable cleanliness, a stark contrast to the grimy, worn-down interiors—and exteriors—of District 14.

For a brief moment, Scarlet felt nothing but an overwhelming urge to run back out of the train. Even though she knew she wouldn’t get far, and she didn’t actually want to resist, the urge to escape the unfamiliar would not leave her.

Crimson brushed past her, his shoulder knocking into hers as he made his way further into the room that she wanted desperately to escape.

Scarlet inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, but ended up choking on the thick sweetness of the air, drawing the attention of both Penelope and Crimson as they look back at her. She patted her chest in an attempt to clear her lungs of the thick fragrance hanging about her, and when she had finally managed to catch her breath, Scarlet decided that shallow breathing was the way to go.

Still, she could not move any further than where she currently stood. Her legs were stiff and soft at the same time and refused to cooperate with what her mind tried to tell them to do.

Until Crimson held up a weird potted plant with a bright colored top close to his face as he examined it. When he held it up in her direction, she could not help the curiosity that filled her.

She took a tentative step towards Crimson and the strange plant that he was holding.

What was it?

Scarlet leaned in closer to get a better look. “What is it?” She asked her brother out loud. She eyed the yellow coloring of the plant carefully for a moment.

As soon as she turns her attention back to him, he says, “Penelope calls it’s a flower. A Daffodil.”

Scarlet looks back at the plant—no, flower. Was the smell coming from it? “Does it always smell this strongly? I can’t hardly breathe.” Scarlet wonders aloud as she reached hesitantly toward the yellow, soft-looking tips when the entire thing lurched toward her.

She leapt backwards as a burst of adrenaline courses through her veins. Heart racing, eyes narrowed, she pulled deep breaths into her lungs, as she stood in an angled stance, fully prepared to defend herself against the threat.

Except, there was no threat.

There was only Crimson, who stood just a few feet away from her, still holding the plant in his hand, bent over laughing at the reaction he’d caused.

Irritation flooded her and her temper spiked.

Scarlet closed the distance between them and punched his shoulder as hard as she could.

His face contorted in pain and the flower dropped from his hand. Scarlet watched as the pot fell through the air, breaking in half upon impact with the ground. Dirt splatters across the polished floor and dust explodes up into the air around between her and Crimson.

She stared down at the mess for a moment, watching the dust particles catch on the light shining through the wide windows. The storm inside of Scarlet settled and the urge to flee receded upon finally finding an imperfection in the room.

She looked up at Crimson and found him rubbing his arm. Her lips curled upwards as smugness filled her.

That’ll teach him.

That smug feeling left her in short order though when she turned and caught sight of the look on Penelope’s face. Horror is etched upon her yellow-powdered face as she looked between Crimson, Scarlet and the newly made mess on the floor, her blue lips forming an ‘O’.

Oops.

“That. Pot. Was. Priceless. You…You…”

Crimson turned away from her, facing their near-exploding escort. A moment later, Scarlet watched as Penelope’s shoulders dropped and her shaking fists uncurled. The tension left her body, leaving only the normal rigidity that seemed—to Scarlet—to be a permanent feature of Penelope Bright’s.

Her brother glanced back at Scarlet, who raised a brow at him in question. What’s happening?

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling up slightly, before morphing into an innocent looking face and turning back towards Penelope. Ah. Crimson had managed to soothe her then.

The broken flowerpot forgiven, and the apparent disaster averted, Penelope beckoned them out of that train car quickly, continuing with the tour of the train without further delay. Each car of the train seemed to be designed to provide comfort to its passengers and showcase the Capitol’s wealth and power, but Scarlet didn’t fail to notice Penelope’s sharp eyes watching everything that Crimson and Scarlet even looked at with an eagle like focus, before eventually making their way into the dining car.

Assured by their escort that they would not be disappointed with the dishes that she had personally selected, Scarlet had nothing to do but sit quietly as Penelope and Crimson engaged in conversation.

She had tried to follow along at the beginning, because she felt certain that there would be some useful information amid the overtly exaggerated and extraneous details that Penelope deemed vital. However, she could simply stand no more of their escort’s blathering without murdering her.

After the words, ‘you poor barbarians’ had come out of Penelope’s mouth for the third time and ‘you’re actually quite lucky’, at least twice in reference to the fact that they should really be quite grateful for being reaped and sent to their deaths for the simple fact that they would now get a chance to see Panem’s glorious Capitol, Scarlet chose the less dramatic option of picking her nails obnoxiously with the silver knife left on the table.

The thrill it had stirred in her eased some of the irritation as she watched Penelope’s eye twitch as she caught sight of her behavior which Scarlet was sure would be considered ‘manners of barbarians’.

Whereas conversing with someone that she didn’t like and had no interest in talking to often resulted in her imagining stabbing her eyes out with a fork, Crimson was a completely different story.

He could talk to anyone about anything with an abundance of excitement and enthusiasm, regardless of his actual interest. Since even Scarlet could see how desperate Penelope wanted to tell someone about the exquisite Capitol and all they would encounter, she knew that Crimson would take full advantage.

While lending his ears to Penelope, he would squeeze Penelope Bright dry like a wet sock, trying to wring every ounce of information from her, before leaving her out to dry. And he would use that information to start making his own plans for the days ahead.

The automatic door opening first drew Scarlet’s attention and pulled her out of her head, but even her brother’s focus was pulled from his conversation with Penelope as the fragrant aroma of the dishes permeated the air of the dining car. Scarlet’s mouth watered on instinct even though she had no idea what was hidden beneath the gleaming metal trays.

As Scarlet moved to place the knife back on the table, the tip caught the knife caught the edge of the table and slipped from her hand, falling to the floor. She pushed her chair backwards and knelt down, reaching for the knife. Cool metal touched her fingertips at the same time as warm skin did.

Her head jerked upward, surprised to find a boy also crouched down under the table, reaching for the fallen silverware. His head lifted as well, and his grey eyes widened in surprise to see her down there next to him.

He was a handsome boy—no older than her own age of twelve, with hair the color of flames—wild and unruly, and little specks covering his cheeks and nose. Yet his beauty is overshadowed by his sullen and drawn expression. His grey eyes were haunted and bleak. The boy quickly handed her the knife, before drawing away from her, but not before her gaze caught the thick scars around his wrists.

“Oh, thank you.” She said, as she took the knife from him.

It’s only after the words leave her that she considers who the boy is. What the boy is. Avox. Panick flickers through his eyes for a moment as he shakes his head fervently, bowing in deference before rising from the floor quickly. By the time she rises to her own chair, the boy is long gone from the dining car.

Scarlet could feel Penelope’s eyes on her without looking across the table. Avoiding their escorts’ disapproving stare, she glanced over at her brother, finding him already watching her as well. His eyes were filled with a silent warning, telling her to be more careful. She gave him a small nod to signify that she understood and agreed before turning back to the table.

Dishes of all shapes and sizes now filled the table until Scarlet could scarcely see the wooden surface at all.

Soups and stews were held in large bowls. Grains and bread that looked nothing like the bread they made back in District 14 with the tessera grain, sat in woven baskets, wrapped in white cloth.

Three different types of jam sat next to the bread in different bowls, making Scarlet think of earlier this same morning when her older sister had been lucky enough to get jam on her bread. A gift from their mother to their eldest daughter on Reaping Day.

The cost of that small extravagance had been that Scarlet, Crimson, Cadmium and Honey had gone without food of any kind that morning.

To say she took enjoyment in slathering a generous portion—half the jar—of red jam onto a thin piece of soft, fluffy, cloud like bread, would be an understatement. Nothing could dampen the satisfaction thrumming through her veins or lessen the smug grin on her face as she pictured Violet back in their old run down home, eating nothing but the plain tessera grain.

But the soups, stews, and breads were only the beginning of the dishes laid out on the table. There were so many different dishes of meat on the table.

Scarlet could never bring herself to admit it out loud, but before she’d sat down at this table, Scarlet had assumed that all meat was the same. Coming from different animals, maybe, but she kind of thought that all of it would taste and look the same.

That was simply not the case.

In every dish, the different meats had each been prepared unique ways, with various ingredients and other foods served alongside them—though Scarlet could scarcely name them, as even simple salt was considered a luxury item back home.

Other dishes on the table featured vegetables, both raw and cooked. Yellow, green, red, and orange. Some were cut and laid in cold water, while others had been grilled and were covered in oil that coated her lips and fingers. Some were cut into small pieces, while others were small enough to pop into her mouth in one bite.

The array of smells filled her nose, making it difficult to distinguish one dish from another. It was overwhelming and mouthwatering all at once.

There was nothing on the table that Scarlet or Crimson had ever eaten before in District 14. Everything was different.

Each new food she put in her mouth tasted so different from the bland food that they had back in their own district that she couldn’t even begin to describe it. The food settled in her stomach uneasily at first, but after a few bites, it seemed to settle more easily, as if it took a moment for her stomach and brain to accept that this was real food.

There were at least ten different drink options that Scarlet could choose from in the train car. After spending several agonizing minutes trying to read Penelope’s lips as she described the drink contents to Crimson, she ended up with a cup of white creamy liquid.

Milk.

Which Penelope Bright had taken great pride in telling them that only in the Capitol—or being escorted to the Capitol—could one get such a drink.

The train… the different cars…every room was filled with an extravagance that was simply beyond her imagination. It was nothing like she’d ever seen before in District 14. Even in the finest places, nothing could ever have prepared her for this.

Before being reaped; before entering the food car of the train, Scarlet could not have imagined any person or place having access to so much food, let alone having so much surplus that they could just give it away to twenty-five children that are going to die in just a few days’ time.

Of course, there was lucky number twenty-six that would survive. The child that becomes the Victor of that year’s Hunger Games and is given a life of leisure, comfort, and wealth, as their reward for their tribulations and victory.

If Scarlet won, she would have more money than she could spend in a lifetime. She would never be hungry or go cold from a lack of proper clothing or access to heat. She would be moved out of her home and into District 14’s Victor Village, becoming the first ever Victor to use one of the large empty homes in District 14. No leaks, creaks, or broken windows. Plenty of wood for the fireplaces. And a bed and blanket for each child in their family.

If Scarlet or Crimson won, they would have a new life.

Everyone except the one who lost.

Scarlet picked at the meat on her plate, the taste turning to ash in her mouth as thoughts of what lay ahead and what she had left behind in District 14 clouded her mind.

Cadmium and Honey had been left to take on the burden of being the family’s only remaining slaughter-children.

If either Crimson or Scarlet won, they wouldn’t have to ever sign up for the tesserae. Even though their chances would be drastically lowered, Scarlet knew that their parents would still expect them to volunteer if their other siblings were reaped.

Scarlet could change that though. She would change that. She would have the money to support any of her siblings that did not want to volunteer.

But only if she won.

Was Cadmium back home eating the tesserae grain and sitting in the cold empty basement carving crystal scraps? Would Honey keep him company there? She’d always been close to their other siblings.

Aqua and Sapphire and Honey had been the best of friends growing up, but as with most of their family, as Honey grew older, she started to recognize the divide between her siblings, and which side she belonged on.

In the last year, Honey had spent more time following around Cadmium, Scarlet and Crimson. She’d started learning to carve ice though she didn’t have the talent to ever make any money at it. It was enough to keep her busy and out of trouble and her mind off their cold fingers and empty stomachs.

If Scarlet won and came back to District 14, she’d have the money to buy actual pieces of crystal instead of the scraps she could pull out of the garbage. She would never have to sell any carvings for a humiliatingly low number of coins because everyone knew how desperate she was. She’d never have to sell another carved crystal at all if she didn’t want to. Hell, she’d never have to carve another crystal if she didn’t want to.

All she had to do was win.

All she had to do was kill Crimson and twenty-four other tributes who were trying to kill her.

With that thought running through her mind, Scarlet put more food on her plate and ate, focusing on the platters of grains and meats. She was careful to take her time chewing her food thoroughly before swallowing, allowing her stomach time to settle a little before eating more.

It would be so easy to stuff herself full of the delicious food in front of her, or stick to the sugared goods that sent a rush through her head with only a taste, but she couldn’t afford to eat herself sick.

At the same time, Scarlet knew that she had a very limited timeframe to put on as much weight as possible because once they were put in the Arena, there was no guarantee that they would even have access to food.

The one constant in the Hunger Games was the scarcity of food and water. If food or water happened to be easily accessible and abundant, it was often poisoned or used to draw all the tributes together for a bloodbath.

That was where having a mentor would give an advantage to every other district. Except District 14. As there had never been a tribute from their district to win, there was no Victor to mentor them, give them advice, or help them out once they were inside the Arena.

The wisdom and advice, she could live without if necessary—but what really pissed her off was that without a mentor, they would have no one to help them from the outside.

From what she and her brothers had gathered after watching the Hunger Games each year on their television in District 14, it was the mentors that arranged the gifts that went into the Arena and helped gather sponsors to pay for those gifts.

If there was no food in the Arena, or if she couldn’t find water, a mentor could send the much-needed supplies that could ensure her survival. If she were hurt or injured, a mentor could send medicine. They could even send weapons if they had enough sponsors or donations.

Each of the district tributes had this opportunity—this tool—this advantage, to help them survive in the Arena. Each tribute except Scarlet and Crimson.

The darkened thoughts of the looming Arena caused Scarlet’s stomach to knot and tighten. The ashy food never regained its flavor and sat heavily in her gut, but she was determined to take advantage of the opportunities that she was given.

No matter the obstacles in her way or the disadvantages, Scarlet Wolfe would overcome them. She was not going to let District 14’s past failures determine her fate.