"The fallen angel" and "the devil in disguise"
Two names Ares Aristo was known for, a boy who had more to him than originally met the eye. Charming the capital with his kind facade, it was only in the games did they realized just how far an angel ca...
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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.
(glass cage)
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When Ares went back to his room after watching the reapings, it was only then that the weight of impending doom finally settled heavily on his shoulder. The only thing he could bring himself to do was sit on the small cushiony ledge next to his bed and stare out the train window. Beyond the glass, lights from another district flickered like distant stars in the night. Was it District 7? Or perhaps 6? He didn't know but he couldn't help but imagine the faceless people in their homes, settling for bed just like any other ordinary day. They must have celebrated after their own Districts' reapings for not being picked. Thinking about them, brought forth other questions and his mind couldn't help but be drawn back to his own home and family--his father and grandmother. Were they able to stomach some food after he was taken away from them? Did they, too, watch the recap of the reapings, imagining all of the possible ways Ares would be able to kill the other tributes before getting killed himself?
Ares didn't know, but he hoped not.
Imagining his home made him ache with loneliness for the first time in maybe ever. He'd never experienced a day without being with his family, and now, faced with solitude after the relentless pressure to emerge victorious all day, his mind couldn't help but drift back to everything he was leaving behind.
After a certain point when the lights stopped flying by and it was only darkness, he went to bed, but no matter how long he lay there with his eyes closed, sleep eluded him. Objectively, the bed he was laid on was the most comfortable thing he'd ever set his head down on, like one big cushion moulding to his spine. But in actuality, the size and strangeness of it made it hard for him to settle comfortably. He needed to sleep, but suddenly he wanted to just cry. But none came. Either he was too tired or numb to cry, but after what felt like forever, he found himself drifting off in a sort of half-aware state of unconsciousness.
When light spilled through the curtains, dousing the entire room in a haze of gold, an incessant rapping on the door startled Ares enough for him to jolt awake. He waited for someone to say something, but the knocking stopped and once again the room was filled with silence.
When he rolled out of bed and made it to the dining area, it was to his surprise that Callum Mikaels was already seated and idly picking at his food. Callum's gaze, sharp as ever, tracked Ares as he moved towards one of the three empty seats. He was like a silent predator assessing its prey. The silence lingered even as Ares' chair scraped backwards and as his cutlery clinked together when he put some of the options of food onto his plate. It was becoming so long, that it started to feel like a competition of some sort. Who would be the one to crack first? To bend to the will of the other and admit defeat.
Eventually, Ares, much to his own annoyance, had to swallow his pride and break it. After all, Callum was his mentor, for better or for worse. Even if he didn't particularly trust the man, he'd still need some help to a certain degree and he'd much rather make his win as easy as it could go with someone on the outside providing sponsors and guidance.
