Chapter Text
She redacts her earlier thoughts. Isobel always knew it was going to be her; and so did everyone else. She was the best in the district, unparalleled in wit and her proficiency with weapons. Fakery, flattery, failing, falling short; all things Isobel has done and hates doing. She wouldn't think herself a fake person but circumstance force her hand.
…
Isobel and her district partner are meant to have arrived in the training hall first, one of the supposedly lovely perks of being district one. But having been delayed by fans, there had been a mob at the train station apparently having already been obsessed with her only by her reaping video. Looking back Isobel knows she made the most of the opportunity schmoozing with potential sponsors and charming the throngs of fans with flattery. After the delay all of the tributes are already in the hall, save for the district four tributes. Mentally assessing and connecting tributes with their reaping videos Isobel only finds a few she believes to be the most formidable opponents. Of course Isobel does not underestimate any of the contestants, she's too smart for that, but aligns them in order to prioritize her attention.
Not quite lost, but definitely preoccupied by her thoughts, Isoobel is taken unaware when she is faced by the male district four tribute. He’s taller than her but not by much and his eyes… His eyes are cold and such an ashen color that it leaves her to wonder whether they are signs of hidden fire within him or the extinguishment of such intrigue. His smile is all teeth and could be called charming but Isobel knows better and sees the promise of pain that accompanies his grin.
“Got held back by throngs of admirers, heard you know what that's like” states her fellow tribute.
“Yes, it's such a terrible hardship being so loved. I myself only got here mere minutes before you.” Isobel exclaims solemnly. Commiserating with this tribute whose name escapes her even though she could swear she knew everyone's name… Lord knows she watched all the reaping videos so much.
“Alistair. District Four.” He extends his hand and Isobel shakes it, returning the verbal exchange of names and districts so as to follow the same line of courtesy. Suddenly whisked away by their respective stylists the encounter with the dangerous boy is cut short. Because even after this one meeting Isobel knows that Alistair is dangerous in more ways than one.
…
It’s only later while running his name over her tongue does she realize that she never quite caught his last name. She means to search for it, or ask someone but her thought is soon wiped away as she is busied with preparations for the tribute parade.
While soaking in lavender scented bubbles Isobel finally gets the chance to hear his last name. Asking an attendant filing her nails she receives this information…
“Alistair? Why he’s a Lowe of course! Didn't Cha know? And while we’re gossiping you might wanna know that his families are winners, one of them enters every generation and comes out a winner, it's almost suspicious how sure a thing it is…” The attendants rambling is pushed to the sides as Isobel mentally reevaluates her list of threats. After this sudden new influx of information the apparently infamous Alistair Lowe now sits at the top of the list. Leaning her head back Isobel finally lets herself get lost in herself, her head, and her thoughts for perhaps the first time since this mess began.