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And Maysilee’s been too good for the rest of us from day one. Prissing around in her shiny shoes and nail polish, and never without some kind of ornament. How that girl loves jewelry.
- Haymitch’s thoughts about Maysilee
The tribute train was unnervingly silent. Nothing this big or this fast should be so quiet Haymitch thought. The tension inside the compartment was quietly building too. Wyatt and Maysilee were on the other side and Louella was on his side, everybody was quietly stealing glances at everyone. Except Maysilee, who had fixed an almost knowing and loud gaze on him.
“Do you know what the sword of Damocles is Wyatt” Haymitch asked unprompted, Lenore’s goodbye still stuck on his mind
“No Haymitch I am not aware of that” he replied monotonically
“Ofcourse it’s not related to numbers so you were probably unaware. Lenore Dove told me that there once was a king who wanted…”
“Spare us the story Haymitch, it’s a sword that hung over someone that was always at risk of snapping and killing him. Some trite metaphor for dread and the impending sense of doom that consumes all or something” Maysilee interjected looking almost bored. Slapping Drusilla might have not entertained her enough then.
“Yeah Maysilee, all we have is time now until we reach the Capitol that is, spare me if I try to actually make Wyatt understand what his betting father might be going through”
Haymitch regretted the retort as soon as he said it, everybody looked taken aback at that. Sweetheart looked almost betrayed, Maysilee looked very angry which was scarier to him.
“Haymitch might you forget but we are on a journey where the final stop will have us all wield deadly weapons” she sneered, almost baiting him to reply.
“That is Maysilee if the gambling boy and a rich merchant girl actually survive the bloodbath. Almost the same odds as a seam moonshiner making it to first day ain’t it odds boy” he took the bait
“That’s cute you think all that snark might endear the Capitol. They might just sponsor some circus stuff you could do tricks on live television for them too”
Plutarch suddenly stood up with a strange look on his face and cleared his throat, “All right Maysilee, Haymitch it’s time to do something, something drastic, we can't have the districts image falling before we even exit the train, follow me both of you”
He opened the compartment door, and subtly stopped the guards from following him. Whispering something to Drusilla, which also made her stand down.
They both were still staring daggers at each other, his grey eyes matching her azure. She probably was constructing a million devastating insults each one more biting than the last, Plutarch suddenly stopped and opened an empty compartment door.
“In both of you, it'll take about 6 hours to reach the Capitol. And I need this quarrel to be solved until then. No excuses.”
Maysilee tried to say something, but to not give her an opportunity, and to win the argument he swiftly entered the compartment daring her to do the same with a pointed look.
“ Fine Plutarch, what's another pointless game”
The moment she stepped in, Plutarch slid the door shut which a click sound a few seconds later made it clear that they were now locked inside. Just the two of them.
Maysilee was almost his height, so her folded arms and perfect posture made quite an impression. A blonde prissy townie just staring at him with murderous intent,was especially unnerving with her bluer than natural eyes. It felt like they were directly staring at his soul.
He would have been mesmerised by the mountains whizzing past him in any other situation. If woodbine hadn't been shot, if he hadn’t seen Lenore Dove for the last time, if he hadn’t gone off on his fellow tributes, all of those indiscretions hanging like the proverbial sword upon his head. The rolling hills and the foliage were a rare sight, reserved only for the district lambs being led to their slaughter. He probably would be slaughtered far earlier than the bloodbath though; Maysilee’s earlier spat with their mentor and her famous barbs could definitely end him sooner.
“ And now Plutarch has locked us in this damned compartment for probably some sick capitolite whim. And it’s ALL YOUR FAULT HAYMITCH” Maysilee screamed. Her eyes, unlike Lenore Dove’s soothing green– were a shade of piercing blue, and they looked especially unsettling when he had their entire unblinking focus.
“Don’t put all of this on me, I was safe, I was done for another year unlike you. You were reaped, I was taken Maysilee. I’ll never see ma and sid again, never talk to Lenore Dove again”
“Oh spare me the Lenore Dove act, your bossy little girlfriend has so many secrets you don’t know. Lenore Dove this, Lenore Dove that, Haymitch this might be a surprise for you but we all have our loved ones that we won’t see again. I won’t see my sister again, Wyatt will never see his dad again, Louella will never talk to her mother again”
“Ofcourse you’d know what our loved ones think like don't you. Like you ever cared Maysilee. Gamblers and Sweethearts stick around us seam folks cause we care about each other, unlike you townie folk” He knew that he was rambling, so he chanced a proper glance at her and was surprised to see that she looked a little taken aback. All that time he had been focused on her face, and didn’t observe that she was somewhat crouched now. Defensive almost
“All that Abernathy charm Lenore Dove brags about and all you could muster was an insult over me caring too much” she sneered.
She had sprung up now, looking directly at his eyes with unabashed fury. Almost daring him to break eye contact, probably aware of how unnerving her eyes looked in anger, so blue, like a summer day sky without any clouds.
“You don’t understand do you, how could you in your exalted merchant shops, in your expensive dresses and your fucking table manners. We’ll all be dead in a week, but you will be mourned for years. Us seam folks are practical, Sid and Ma will move on after some time. Lenore Dove, songbird that she is will be–” his words hitched at that point, all of the Sid, Ma, and Lenore Dove reminiscence was too much. He had been blinking away tears halfway through the whole spiel.
Maysilee looked taken aback, the almost cruel smirk that had been forming on her face dropped immediately. He had cried after seeing Lenore Dove for the last time, maybe that had been connected to him leaving twelve forever more though. Maybe Lenore Dove’s grief was a branch that had been pruned in his not so reaping selection. The tears that were unabashedly flowing now were suspect. The Sword must have inched closer ‘cause his breathing was getting laboured now.
“I’ll be dead, Wyatt and swee…sweet…sweetheart will be dead in a week. Maysilee you probably will be dead. It dosen’t matter, nothing matters. Poor Sid will be devastated, his big brother was always so strong, not this meek crying little boy”
*Slap* It was a shock, he was wallowing in his tears when the sting of a slap registered. When he looked at Maysilee her eyes were bulging and she had an almost rageful look on her face, her sneer long forgotten.
“Don't you dare cry Haymitch, you probably have the best chance in our damned foursome–”
“Wha… what” he was confused, Maysilee Donner, resident rich girl was somehow complimenting his hunger games odds.
“ Don't stutter you brute. As I was saying just ask Wyatt, you have the highest odds, you’re actually trained in weapons, you stepped up after your father died showing mental fortitude.” She stopped to take a breath, her eyes not leaving his. Before he could interrupt she started again
“And if there was a world where you didn't have all that, you'd still have the biggest advantage one could have in The Hunger Games,” she paused for effect “You are attractive Haymitch, you have that charm that' ll wrap those shallow capitolites in an instant. You have those alluring gray eyes, and even though you probably haven't shampooed your hair ever it still has those distinctive charming curls. You are a package that’s almost readymade to win these blasted games . Attractive, attainable and Audacious you have it all Haymitch Abernathy, so don't you dare cry”
He didn't know what came over him at that moment, in the back of his mind he knew what he was about to do in that instant was very wrong, but he still didn't stop himself.
He closed the distance between them, Maysilee’s eyes widened but she didn’t move back. Instead she threw her arms around his neck and put her lips on him. She made first contact but he deepened it. His hands coiled at her back too, almost trying to twist her form into him. A connection of lips, and skin, of arms and legs, of soul and mind.
He broke the connection.
“This is so wrong, I am so sorry Maysilee I don’t know what came over me, Its probably the damn train… the hunger game-”
She silenced him with another kiss, pulling him towards him by his collar so hard that he was fearful his ma’s stitching might give up. That was a fleeting concern though replaced by the almost magical sensation of Maysilee’s lips. He had opened his mouth slightly then, she had too, it was unlike any of the thousand kisses he had shared with Lenore Dove before.
At that moment he shuddered and broke the kiss, it felt horrible. His mind couldn’t make out if it was because he had just broken Lenore Dove’s trust or was it because his lips had left their santuary.
He turned and fled so fast it’d seem he was one of those career folks who’d been training on speed and dexterity all their lives. By some miracle the door was unlocked; they probably missed the clicking noise when they were all over each other. In the back of his mind he knew he should regret what had just happened, he kissed- no in that stretched instance they were connected, deeply, no kiss with Lenore Dove had ever felt that way.
His mind still clouded by shame and traitorous desire that he didn’t notice the figure just ahead of him and the ensuing slam almost knocked him off his feet. It was Plutarch that he slammed into, and he had that look again. Head upheld, eyes squinted, probably some stupid plan already brewing face.
“Enjoyed the show I assume; probably low in your normal levels of debauchery ain't it plutarch, so used to seeing children kill each other a kiss might just be the most boring thing ever” he was furious at him, at his master plan of locking two teenagers in a empty compartment while they were actively at each other's throats on their way to the hunger games, and at him also being a weird voyeur. Capitolites truly were scum.
“Listen here Haymitch, I know you have a girl at home but for the foreseeable future you need to pretend like she doesn't exist” He was stunned, Plutarch’s tone was serious and apparently wasn’t a nasally retort for his weird actions but an absurd ask.
“And why would I do that, I know kissing another girl isn’t exactly the sign–”
“No Haymitch, you must do as I say, stop talking now and you must not be out of breath when we remerge to the main compartment”
He might had a monumental bout of stupidity a few moments earlier, but he still understood what he was implying. The trains were bugged, and whatever he wanted to say was too important to be leaked. That was the moment a dazed Maysilee appeared out of the door too, her lips were puffy, her lavender dress’s hem dangerously close to the edge of her shoulders. She had her head down now trying very hard not to make eye contact with him.
Plutarch hemmed and pointed at her shoulder, Maysilee jumped a little and quickly fixed the hem, Another evidence of his pathetic passion gone. Plutarch then started walking so they both followed him downcasted. He was whispering something though, so quietly that if he hadn’t spent days identifying faint songs coming from high branches he would have had no clue of the words.
He missed the start but the words he did understand were ominous sounding.
“...Star Crossed Lovers angle maybe” Plutarch whispered.