Chapter Text
The train continues to move slowly to their final destination; having already passed the horde of the Capitol civilians crowding outside to see the last two tributes. Ravyn has already moved away from the window, her act slipping off her face as soon as she wasn't in the view range of the civilians. She took a seat next to Spider once again.
"Since we're about to arrive at our stop in a few minutes, I'm going to give you guys one last piece of advice before I show you the tributes you'll be facing later. After I tell you this key piece of information, you can go back to your room or just lounge around here until the train fully stops." Norm says sitting up straight as his face takes on a serious expression.
“The words I’m about to say are very important, so I want you both to listen to very carefully.” Norm says.
Norm pushes his hands down on the table and leans forward slightly. Spider resists the very high urge to lean back. What's up with this dude? Doesn't he know anything about personal space? Ravyn appears to be unbothered by the sudden movement, lucky her.
“Do not, and I repeat, do not under any circumstances interact with the Sully's and their allies.” Norm stresses with wide eyes trying to get his point across.
“Don’t even look at them, understood?” Norm continues to stress about that one rule.
Spider actually feels like smiling for the first time today considering the amount of shit he went through today. Wasn't that just lovely?
“Not that I was really planning on it or anything, but isn’t that a bit rich coming from you, Norm?” Spider said sarcastically, even rolling his eyes in the mix.
Norm pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily before he squints at the younger. Norm already knew Spider was a special case to be dealt with.
“I’m serious, Spider. Me getting claimed was just dumb luck, nothing more. They’re not the type to do that twice anyways.” Norm explains his reasoning behind the Sully's claiming him as an ally, or friend of the sorts.
“Any attention from them is bad, don’t make yourself a target, kid. Especially in front of Tonowari's family. You definitely need to stay away and not draw any attention from them. Any of them, really. Including the nicest one of the family.” Norm warned the two tributes who took in the information.
Spider feels a familiar scorching burn of irritation in his gut. The heat makes him feel stronger than he is, so he welcomes it with open arms, fanning the flames.
“Well then where’s the line between making myself a target and marketing myself for auction. I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, Norm, but you keep telling me to avoid people that would most likely hurt me.” Spider scoffs loudly.
“But in case you really haven't noticed, Norm, everyone in there is going to try and fucking hurt me!” It's much easier to shout that than to think it if he's angry enough about it, there won't be any room for fear.
“They definitely won't, getting in serious trouble with them, sure, but hurting you is a bit dramatic. Making enemies with them or Tonowari's family would probably kill you, though. Plus, you have to be smart about it. It's either try this or die without complaining. I decided to go out fighting. Or at least try fighting.” It's spoken as if Norm had tragically died in that arena. It was a load of bullshit.
“I can't do it for you, I can only help you if you let me. This is life or death, kid. You gotta work with me if you want a chance at survival.” Norm says. Though, Spider wonders if this is killing the man more than the monsters that chase them ever could.
And for a second, Spider has a new fear for today. Today, and today only. He looks at the man before him and wonders if this is truly better than a death sentence. He would never be leaving that arena once he was in it. Count all the lives that have been lost in these games. Norm was living proof that some people just barely manage to make it out alive. Are they ever fine after that? No, no they are not. But they fought for a chance to see another day.
“I'm not very good at making people like me.” He spoke quietly in something akin to vulnerability, something he's never felt before. This was all very new to him.
“I'd argue about that, but you made me like you, kid. Just a smidge, though.” Norm offers a shy smile. It's an awkward attempt at slight comfort. It's hollow and generic, but it feels incredibly special.
Spider briefly questioned in his mind what Norm meant by that first part of his sentence, but he'll have time to ask him about it another time. His words, however, are just enough to make Spider promise to try for a little bit longer. He's been pushing the boulder up the downward hill for this long. A few more miles won't be the thing that kills him.
Spider excuses himself from the table and makes his way to his room. He can feel the train slowly moving as they come closer to their final destination. He's internally dreading it, but he's made a small promise to try and stick around for a bit longer than he planned. He'll do exactly that and then make a plan to kill himself some way.
He reaches his room and enters with a quiet sigh escaping his lips. He sits on the comfy bed that bounces slightly at his weight. It makes a barely there smile sneak on his face. He looks at the table stand next to the bed and sees that there's a tablet on there. He carefully reaches over to grab it as if he's going to break it with just the slightest touch.
His eyes widen in surprise when he turns on the tablet and it connects to the large TV at the foot of the bed automatically. He was surprised the TV turned on without the remote. His barely there smile is instantly wiped off his face when he's staring back at his face. It was the fucking broadcast of his reaping. He just blankly stared at the screen as it played through the events that he went through not too long ago. He didn't even know what to make of it.
Spider looked away from the glaring video in front of him and quickly shut off the tablet in his lap. He placed the tablet back where he found it and found himself lying down on the bed.
___
The train eventually comes to a full stop, the brakes screeching loudly. Spider lie on the bed resting quietly. His breaths coming out smoothly despite the grave situation he's currently in. He appears peaceful while asleep. He's serene.
A loud knock on the door startles Spider awake from his short nap. He hears the voice of Norm calling out to him saying that they've finally arrived and to meet in the cabin they were previously in. Spider sighs and sits up wiping the sleep from his eyes.
He was already dreading all this. He made his way to the door to his room, opening the door only to be met with Norm standing there with an awkward smile. Spider could just make out something else in his expression, he just didn't know what exactly.
Norm led him to Ravyn's room to wait beside him as he makes sure both his tributes are up and ready to head inside the Capitol. Once Ravyn closes the door to her room, the two tributes follow their mentor to the door to step off the train.
When Spider stepped off the train, for some reason he had fully expected to find it somewhat hard to breathe. He was expecting really thin air and heavy pressure, the type that's forceful enough to make his ears pop uncomfortably. He was so sure his breath would become labored and he would be hastily led inside as to die on the Capitol's time and not his very own.
But the only difference he could really notice in his deep inhale... was the harsh chill to the morning air. Cold enough that it allowed his breaths to drift through his lips in white misty clouds. The Capitol's dirt felt like Pandoran dirt under his boots, the same sounds of friction when he dragged his feet. Only it felt unnatural instead of like home. The differences between home and the Capitol was like the light side of a flipped coin.
Spider wasn’t able to round up a high mental tally of similarities before he was herded inside with his fellow tribute to what he could only assume to be the tributes quarters. One look was all it took for him. Everything, and he really did mean everything, was bloody shining. Everything was shining so bright that he might go blind looking at it. It was so unlike anything he's ever seen.
The chandelier, twinkling yellow and looming over his head as he followed into the building, the golden emblem of the Capitol's crest, hung proudly on the foyer wall. Even the doorman’s jacket buttons dazzled when they hit the light. It was a pathetic display. Spider suddenly felt very lost in the daunting environment, and maybe just a little dirty. He was honestly out of place, one might say.
He wrung his hands together, grimacing at the sight of his soot stained fingers, his nail containing dirt from his beloved forest. He was most likely going to get a makeover here. The shower he took only did so much, but at least his hair was clean. He already misses being able to communicate with Eywa personally every day. Spider snapped out of his thoughts at the feeling of a nudge from his side. Glancing up, he's met with a knowing look from Norm.
Although he still wasn’t very fond of the man, Spider couldn’t help but feel slightly grateful for Norm's silent presence beside him.
Albeit not the most reassuring gesture, at least the other knew where he was walking. He wonders how his fellow tribute is taking this all in.
Spider tries to keep his head down, he’s been given one piece of crucial advice so far. ‘Don't draw attention to yourself.’ That was all he needed to do. He just needs to walk to the end of this hallway with Ravyn and let Norm do all the talking for them. Spider’s come to terms with the fact that he's not getting claimed. He knew that the very second he stepped forward at the reaping. He’ll most definitely die some time next week.
He knows that, Norm knows that, Ravyn knows that, hell even the doorman with the shiny buttons knows that.
The only difference is how he dies. Whilst Spider may not be able to get himself claimed, he sure can do his best to avoid being targeted. A quick death over a cruel one, that's a tribute's dream, right? And the best way to accomplish that is by keeping his mouth shut.
Spider got about halfway down the hall before breaking this new rule. He groans as a guy with black, possibly dark brown, hair comes tumbling out of a hotel room and directly into his personal bubble.
“Watch where you're going, sir.” Spider says as nicely as possible, but it comes out bitchy and sarcastic. He had one simple task. Only one.
“Spider!” Norm hisses into his ear, snaking his arm around his shoulders and pulling him away from the opposing man.
“What did I say about manners, huh?” Norm whispers harshly. Ravyn chuckles from behind said mentor at Spider's already failed attempt.
He will definitely need to work on his attitude. His outbursts of random annoyance and irritation was a problem.
“It's alright, Norm. Sorry I stepped on your foot, kiddo, but I didn't want to miss you.” The man spoke with a rushed smile, struggling to balance the numerous papers and scrolls under his arms as he reached forward to shake Spider's hand.
“I'm Max, I asked to be your stylist.” He says with a wide grin.
There were many things Spider noticed about Max when he first met him. How despite the man's small structure compared to Norm, he had more of a confident and controlled posture. Another thing was that the man didn't seem at all reluctant to dirty his hands by holding Spider's sullied ones in his own. Pulling him close enough with a hearty handshake. But most importantly, Spider noticed the use of the word ‘asked’. But he didn't dare comment on it, he only shook Max's hand in return and offered a tight smile. After all, he does have that whole silent persona that he's working on.
“Oh, Max.” Norm laughed with an air of relief.
“It's nice to see you, man. Sorry about the kid, he has a slight attitude problem.” Norm excuses Spider's behavior.
Spider began to blindy reach his hand out behind him and make a pinching motion with his fingers. If a certain rat bastard happened to be in that direction, who could really blame him?
“Spider, stop trying to pinch me. You see what I mean?” Norm slapped his hand down without turning away from Max, efficiently fooling the younger's plans of revenge, for now. Ravyn just snorts at the scene unfolding in front of her.
“I'd have an attitude too if I had to deal with you all day.” Max laughs goodheartedly, nudging Spider with an elbow as if trying to win a laugh.
Spider just gives him another small smile, and then begins studying the wallpaper in an attempt to zone out of the awkward conversation.
“Introductory speeches start in a few hours. Do you want to head to the changing rooms now?” Norm asks, checking his watch.
“Actually, I was hoping I could get to know Spider privately, if that's okay with you obviously.” Max asks Spider with a hopeful expression.
Although Spider felt a trill of nerves with the idea of being alone with a Capitol citizen, he appreciated the fact that Max asked for his permission and not Norm's. After all, Max didn't really have to ask for permission if he wanted something from Spider, the boy had no autonomy here whatsoever. But despite the question only being an illusion of free choice, Spider already felt like saying no to Max would feel like kicking a puppy. He didn't want that one bit.
“Sure, any chance to get away from this guy.” Spider shrugs with nonchalance.
Norm only offers a tired sigh, and Spider takes immense pride in the others' exhaustion. It makes him feel great satisfaction. Norm excuses himself and takes Ravyn off to meet her stylist. He begins to regret his decision however, when every frilly shirt Max holds up, silk or satin, are all a sparkling gold.
“Can’t I just wear something simple?” Spider groans, eyeing the vanity in front of him for a clear spot where he can rest his feet for a minute.
“Oh, really?” Max gives the clothes a questioning look, before turning to Spider with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, I thought you might've liked these, the colour would really suit you. And I thought it would be a nice sentiment of your home.” Max supply's.
Spider's not sure why Max ever thought that shiny dress shirts would be his thing, but he feels like an ultimate prick now that the other looks so embarrassed with his choices. He doesn't like making people feel like that. It just feels wrong in a way.
“Well, I guess if it manages to make me even more handsome, I can put up with the yellow.” He sighs, avoiding looking in the olders direction.
“Gold.” Max coughs in correction.
“Tomato, tomahto. Hand me my sparkly costume, please.” Spider rolls his eyes playfully.
Max helps him lace up the sides and fasten the buttons at the wrist of the billowy sleeves. Dress pants and some tight leather shoes later, and Spider starts to feel less and less familiar with the moving object of his reflection.
“You clean up nice kid.” Max compliments.
“I look like a delicate doll.” Spider deadpans, picking at his sleeves in the mirror.
Max chuckles at his antics, walking to the vanity and turning back with something grayish-green in hand.
“This is to bring out your eyes.” Max murmurs, fasting a gold chain pierced through a green crystal around his neck.
“I’m not too sure on bringing my eyes out anywhere, Max. I like having them in their sockets, their rightful place.” Spider huffs, rolling the glass ball in between his fingers.
It’s a bad joke, but hey he’s nervous as all can be. Max laugh regardless, just like he did at all of Spider's others, before pausing to give him a sad look in the mirror.
“That’s how I knew I wanted to be your stylist, you know. You’ve got very kind eyes.” Max says with a knowing look in his eyes.
“Really?” Spider questions. Stomach immediately plummeting to his gut as he searches his reflection to catch a glimpse of what Max sees.
“People with kind eyes don’t know they have kind eyes, Spider.” Max huffs like that was common knowledge.
“You just have to know how to look for them to find them.” He continues.
Spider feels like saying he does know where to find them. And that they are most certainly not on him or on anyone is this forsaken country. That the kind eyes Max are looking for, are ones that he has had the privilege of knowing for as far back as he could remember.
But the sentiment is sweet and Spider doesn’t want to talk about someone as precious as Ian with a stranger. So instead, he says nothing and Max smooths out another non-existent wrinkle from Spider's shirt.
“When you volunteered for that kid, it was the look you gave him after, from the stage.” Max explains.
Spider stills, feeling naked despite the flashy clothes adorning his body.
“It was very selfless of you.” Max speaks to him through the mirror, holding his gaze.
“You must have to love someone very much, to give them a look like that.” Max says knowingly.
Spider has never been one for compliments. Back in District 12, if someone’s being too nice to you, there’s probably a reason.
It’s an oiled system of give a little and take a lot. But Spider has nothing to offer Max here.
“I do. In my own way.” He swallows the various emotions jumping up his throat.
He offers Max a very timid smile. Max follows Spider's face with a pained expression and nods to the mirror.
“What did I tell you? Kind eyes.” Max says barely over a whisper.
Max and Spider sit in comfortable silence as Max adds his finishing touches and quietly scrapes the dirt from under his nails one by one. It was nice like this. Quiet and homey in a way.
___
Spider feels like holding Max's hand when he’s led into the introductory hall. He won’t, though. Don’t get Spider wrong, he's not scared or anything, and he definitely isn’t some kind of lost kid who’s willing to seek shameless comfort from a man he just met an hour ago. It’s just that, the hall has this air of dread to it that makes Spider want to turn heel and run.
It’s all tall ceilings and ridiculously long tables. And for what, seriously. Tables that are lined with rows of seats that no one seems to occupy. Everyone in the hall Is standing and talking, having already formed their respective social circles.
At first glance it’s hard to tell tribute from victor. (Max hadn’t been lying when he said Spider's outfit would be considered tame compared to others.)
But if Spider allows himself to settle on someone’s face for too long, he can begin to pinpoint the usual tells of distress. The creased brows and fidgeting fingers. The sunken cheeks and gaunt frames. It takes more than a fancy shower to wash off the shadow of primary poverty. That kind of shit stains, Spider would know.
In place of holding Max's hand, he settles on simply grabbing the back of the olders sleeve. A much more mature approach in his opinion.
“Promise you won’t leave me alone.” Spider's voice comes out more desperate and less light hearted than he intended.
“I’m not going anywhere, kiddo. Don’t worry.” Max gives him a fond smile.
“Shouldn’t you be asking me that?” Norm glares at the both of them.
“You can go if you want.” Spider deadpans, trying to scrape enough courage together to let go of the other’s sleeve.
Norm gives out a deep exhale, like he’s practising breathing techniques, before meeting Spider with a serious look.
“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen. We,” Norm points his finger at himself and then Max. “Are going to do all the talking, and you,” The ringed finger then turns to point at Spider, and when it gets close enough that the younger can see the glare of clear nail polish, he contemplates biting it. “Are going to be silent and smile.” Norm finishes.
“Are we all on the same page?” Norm clarifies.
Spider offers no response besides a heated glare.
“Fantastic.” Norm replies sarcastically.
It took migrating between three social groups before Spider realised he wasn’t really in any imminent danger. Capitol people weren’t really like what Spider had been expecting. They all seemed more interested in complimenting his outfit or hair than any prying digs for weak points that Spider had braced for. He honestly doesn't know how Ravyn is handling herself on her own right now. She's definitely better than he is at the moment.
The most anyone had gotten to harming him was when one old woman pinched his cheek with a condescending smile. (He was hastily led away from that group before he had any chance to retaliate.)
It was however a bit forlorn to be standing next to some of the other tributes. It was clear that not everyone was taking the turn of events as ‘well’ as he was.
While it would be easy for Spider to slip into an air of indifference, to pretend that his peculiar company were harmlessly eccentric and not betting on his demise whilst his back was turned. It was harder to forget his place in the room when the trembling children he catches glimpses of so clearly defines it.
Spider didn’t have the energy to mourn any longer. He grieved on the train, having already granted himself a greedy amount of time to wallow in self pity. Spider couldn't afford to fall back into that hole. He wouldn’t be able to pull himself out of it twice.
“You’re just as adorable in person as you are on camera.” A woman with purple hair and a matching feather boa coos at Spider, bringing him out of his deep thoughts.
“I really just had to see you for myself after your reaping.” She grins and the circle of elites around her nod their agreements at her statement.
“How you volunteered for that poor boy, you looked like a little hero. It was just too precious.” She says with a smile.
Spider can feel the eyes that fly to him, anticipating his response.
“Oh. Uh, thank you?” Spider glances to Norm nervously trying to navigate the conversation.
“And how your friend, what was his name? Ian.” The woman hums to herself. “How he looked so distraught when you were up on the stage.” She places a pale hand against her heart.
“Why, I almost teared up myself when I saw that. I think we can all agree it was a very moving display. This year's Hunger Games has already had such a dramatic start.” She continued with a wide smile laughing lightly.
Spider can feel the sheer anger heating his face before he even fully registered what the woman has said. It was that type of frustrated anger that you get when someone says something so utterly stupid it sets mankind back a few hundred years. Norm is speaking for both of their sakes before Spider can reply on his own.
“That is very sweet of you Cedia, he is such a sweet boy, isn’t he? Spider, would you mind getting me another drink, please? I appear to be all out.” Norm comes up with an excuse on the spot to get Spider away from the group.
Spider grips the wine glass that he’s given so hard he has a brief fear of it cracking as he smiles sweetly at the group before stalking off towards the refreshment table.
Everyone here is pissing him off now.
The lights are too damn bright.
The room is too fucking loud.
And the people are too cruel.
Spider just wants to be alone right now but he can’t, because as if killing him isn’t enough. The Capitol wants to make him play dress up first.
Spider seriously considers bailing with the wine bottle once he sees the distinctive lack of guards at the entrance doors, but pauses when he hears the sound of a strangely familiar laugh. Freshly filled glass abandoned at the table, Spider wanders round pillared hallway after hallway.
Only once he’s a good enough distance from the main hall, that Spider's sure Norm will be ringing his neck in later, is he able to make out a few distinct words from the loud cheering.
“Nate stop, he's gonna pass out.” A voice heaves through breathless laughter.
“He’s fine, I’m not even doing anything yet.” The voice says mockingly.
“Please... Please let go of me.” A low-pitched voice calls through heavy gasps. It honestly sounded like they were being choked.
Spider picks up the pace after that, practically running when he turns a corner to find four unwillingly familiar faces.
Three tributes circle around one taller man who Spider has the misfortune of recognising as Nate. Their eyes twinkle with tears and their knees tremble, bent over in hysterical laughter because Nate is strangling another tribute he doesn't know. Their eyes were visibly hazy and lost as their airflow is slowly cut off.
“Get off of him!” Spider shouts, shoving himself round the bend of the entrance.
Spider wouldn’t have known it at the time. Couldn’t have known that shouting that one sentence would so drastically alter his future. Would cement his fate in a game he never asked to play.
But before Spider can consider the consequences of his actions, how this one moment, in a side room behind a fancy hall, might prove to violently mark his life, he had already stalked over to the tributes and wrenched the boy from his hands.
Cradling the tributes limp body breathing erraticly to protect him from the looming threat in front of them. This seems to break the straw of sanity that the other tributes seemed to be clutching too, because all of them except Nate topple over laughing at Spider's interruption.
While cackling loudly, Spider turns the boy in his arms away from them in an attempt to shield them from their prying eyes. The laughter only dies off when Nate finally responds.
“Excuse me?” The Nate takes a step closer to the pair.
“What did you just say to me?” Nate presses further with gritted teeth.
Spider begins to slightly shift nervously on his feet. It was barely noticeable unless you looked really closely. He really needs to get out of here now, but he can’t will his eyes to leave Nate's. It feels like the other is causing him physical pain just by looking at him.
“Oh.” Nate chuckles to himself, his face splitting into a hungry grin as he steps even closer.
“I know who you are, you dumb thing. You’re that tribute from the outer districts. The volunteer.” Nate laughs darkly. Nate looks over his shoulder, making sure his friends are watching.
Spider realises that whatever’s about to happen to him, Nate intends to make a big show out of it.
“Aren’t you just the bravest little thing? Marching in here and putting on a good show.” Nate taunts sinisterly.
Nate lashes forward quickly catching Spider's face in a bruising grip.
“Let me remind you of your role here, because you’ve clearly forgotten.” Nate says firmly.
Nate's audience shuffles forward trying to get a better view of the action.
“You can’t hurt us yet. Those are the rules, you can’t hurt us till the games start.” Spider says after he forces the grip on his face off with a slightly wavering voice, eyes trained on Nate's figure, waiting for the other to make another move.
“Rules?” Nate laughs in disbelief.
“You’re trying to dictate to me my own rules? The rules my people made.” Nate stalks towards Spider again, for every step the smaller tribute takes back, the taller tribute takes two steps forward to close the distance.
"I make my own rules." Nate responds through gritted teeth.
Nate pulls his hand up to strike Spider's face and with the younger’s own so busy protecting another he can do nothing but brace himself for the incoming pain.
However it does not arrive.
“You make the rules, huh?” A new voice sounds from over Spider's shoulder.
Through his squinted eyes, Spider can make out the form of a muscular arm, adorned with bracelets and bangles, holding Nate’s wrist tightly.
“Neteyam.” Nate's quiet greeting does nothing to dampen the sound of his fury, snatching back his arm with a clean flick of his wrist.
However, Spider is no longer concerned with whatever tantrum the other tribute had been throwing, the real threat lies with the person looming behind him. A heavy, but gentle hand settles on his shoulder. Spider can only see tendrils of flowing, braided black hair in his peripheral, but he already feels as though he had been speared.
Neteyam, the eldest son of the Jake Sully, better know as Toruk Makto, and his wife, Neytiri. A person who could have him mutilated at the twitch of his finger, stands so close to Spider that the boy can feel the flutter of his hair from the boy's breath.
His chest aches and a static shock runs through his nervous system in a vehemently innate way. The entirety of his back ignites in blue flame energy from Neteyam's vicinity, and it takes years of disciplined breathless swims to keep his lungs from collapsing.
“You’ve always been the impatient type, Nate.” The deep voice of the boy rumbles.
“It’s one of the many things I dislike about you.” He continues firmly.
The hand on Spider's shoulder slivers forward and begins to trace the outline of his exposed collar bone. His breath hitches. He can hear the sound of movement from behind him. The slightly younger guy he protected was beginning to move to stand up.
“Could you really not wait two weeks to start playing with your food?” Neteyam asks sarcastically.
The hand traces the base of his neck before moving up to settle a firm grip around his throat. Not squeezing, just feeling.
Spider imagines the hand contracting, strong arms making easy work of cutting the blood flow to his brain. How quickly his eyes would begin to bulge out of his head, his face contorting into a bloated purple mass as he suffocates in the person's hand. He wouldn't be able to stop him. Fuck, Spider would be too frightened to even try.
Fingers trace the side of Spider's neck, pressing slightly under his ear, feeling the rapid pulse beat beneath its fingertips.
“I think you should head back to the main hall, Nate. It would be a shame if you skipped out on all the hard work your father puts into these events. Don’t you agree?” Neteyam taunts menacingly.
Nate offers no reply, he simply stares at Spider with a look that reads a promise of later and then stalks off around the corner. But before he can turn the corner fully, Neteyam calls out to the group loudly.
"One more thing, Nate. Touch my brother again and we're going to have problems." Neteyam spits before the group tensely walks around the corner.
Once the space had cleared, Spider had never been more aware of a silent room. The hand around his neck gives one gentler squeeze before lifting off to settle on Spider's shoulder again.
“Your name is a very interesting one. Intriguing, I must say." Neteyam finally says.
Spider nods stiffly, not trusting his voice. The grip on his shoulder finally loosens, allowing Spider to take a step away from the other.
Neteyam looks at the person standing behind Spider with a look in his eye that he can't understand. It was as if the two were communicating via eye contact. It was freaky, to be honest.
"I want to thank you for protecting my younger brother, Lo'ak when I wasn't present. I am to owe you something given your actions." Neteyam says finally looking back at Spider. So 'Lo'ak' was his brother's name. It looks like Lo'ak and Spider are going to be going head to head in this years games.
"No. It's fine. You don't have to repay me in any way." Spider politely declines the offer hoping this won't put him on their family's bad side.
"Are you sure? You don't even want something to help you out in the games?" Neteyam asks surprised, but amused.
"Yes, I'm sure. I just didn't want your brother to suffer at the hands of that jerk." Spider reassures the victor.
“Very well, then. Run along then, it seems you have someone to account for.” Neteyam says with a quirk of his lip as he motions to his younger brother standing quietly behind Spider with an unreadable expression on his face.
Spider relies solely on muscle memory to stagger out of the room and down the hall.
His hands shake slightly around Lo'ak's shoulder and he prays he’ll make it back to the hall before he has a breakdown.
The feeling of eyes trailing his form doesn’t break as he races down the incessant corridors. But Spider knows that the oldest Sully sibling is still watching him. And that there is nothing he can do now to make him look away. He just prays to the Great Mother that he has not done anything to make it onto their shit-list.