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31_days2012-07-07 02:33 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-07 02:33 pm
[July 7] [The Hunger Games] Weave Away the Aftermath
Title: Weave Away the Aftermath
Day/Theme: July 7, 2012 "unfettered and alive"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags, OCs
Rating: PG
Author's comment: Mags at home in District 4.
I am home. The cameras are gone - for now. The killing is over - for me. At the next games, I'll get to do my best alongside Aulus (assuming he sticks around to help) to aid some other dumb or brave or unlucky kids try to find within themselves what it takes to kill. …It's a dubious honor, but it isn't as if anyone told me that staying along also meant being free.
When I go fishing with my father for the first time since my return, I hook and clean my share of our catch almost the same way I did those kids. I don't have to say anything about it to Papa. I don't scream or faint or anything, but I stare at my blood-stained hands for what feels like an eternity. It's actually just a couple of minutes.
Back home on shore I begin weaving baskets to calm my nerves. I use reeds of different colors on them to make patterns and designs. Apple Smitt calls me up on our brand new telephone and when I tell her about it, she gushes about how weaving could be talent and asks if I can weave anything for her. I don't think it's as a result of feeling particularly generous, but I change my usual sort of fishing basket into something like a purse. When I let Apple know about it, she's absolutely sure she'll love it and makes plans to use it for my entire Victory Tour. She doesn't doubt that it will start a fashion trend (or at least a short-lived fad).
When I sit out in front of the boat weaving I find myself wondering what Beanpole's talent would've been. Or Sparrow's. …What I will say to the families I encounter on the tour… …How long will it take for District 4 to have another victor… Downer stuff, basically.
If I'm only making simple stuff, I barely need to look at it as I work. I'm doing things by feel. As I braid the strands of my current project, I lie back and watch the seaweed dry on the racks. I might as well be watching paint peel.
"Hey," says a boy.
I sit up. It's 'Lito Ortiz, a former classmate of mine. I barely know the guy. "Hey," I respond; it's casual, neutral.
"I watched you being so brave, Mags, and I don't guess I'll ever be half as brave as you, but I suppose it egged me on to get my courage up a little."
I take a second look at tan and gangly 'Lito. His eyes are as dark as the shore at midnight. After a second, I realize he's waiting for something from me. Some kind of cue. "Yeah?" I prompt him.
"I like you, Mags," he says, and after that he holds his breath.
It feels good. I remember all over again to be liked by someone I won't be expected to kill. Inside I sense a question mark: maybe I could like him back? "Since when?" I ask, but show I mean it nice by beginning to smile.
"Since we were fourteen and I saw you win the girls' high jump competition at school."
It feels like a lifetime ago. "I guess if you still like someone even after you've watched her kill people you like her a lot," I wager.
"Yeah, probably," 'Lito agrees.
"Why don't you come inside?" I decide, "I've got limes and ice tea."
"Limes are really good with fish tacos," 'Lito offers.
I don't know what to say to him any better than he knows what to say to me. But, well, okay. Soon enough, I'm sure that won't be the case. I mean, what with all that happened, I am changed, but… I'm still Mags.
"I like stuff that's sour." The better, of course, to bring out the sweet.
Day/Theme: July 7, 2012 "unfettered and alive"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags, OCs
Rating: PG
Author's comment: Mags at home in District 4.
I am home. The cameras are gone - for now. The killing is over - for me. At the next games, I'll get to do my best alongside Aulus (assuming he sticks around to help) to aid some other dumb or brave or unlucky kids try to find within themselves what it takes to kill. …It's a dubious honor, but it isn't as if anyone told me that staying along also meant being free.
When I go fishing with my father for the first time since my return, I hook and clean my share of our catch almost the same way I did those kids. I don't have to say anything about it to Papa. I don't scream or faint or anything, but I stare at my blood-stained hands for what feels like an eternity. It's actually just a couple of minutes.
Back home on shore I begin weaving baskets to calm my nerves. I use reeds of different colors on them to make patterns and designs. Apple Smitt calls me up on our brand new telephone and when I tell her about it, she gushes about how weaving could be talent and asks if I can weave anything for her. I don't think it's as a result of feeling particularly generous, but I change my usual sort of fishing basket into something like a purse. When I let Apple know about it, she's absolutely sure she'll love it and makes plans to use it for my entire Victory Tour. She doesn't doubt that it will start a fashion trend (or at least a short-lived fad).
When I sit out in front of the boat weaving I find myself wondering what Beanpole's talent would've been. Or Sparrow's. …What I will say to the families I encounter on the tour… …How long will it take for District 4 to have another victor… Downer stuff, basically.
If I'm only making simple stuff, I barely need to look at it as I work. I'm doing things by feel. As I braid the strands of my current project, I lie back and watch the seaweed dry on the racks. I might as well be watching paint peel.
"Hey," says a boy.
I sit up. It's 'Lito Ortiz, a former classmate of mine. I barely know the guy. "Hey," I respond; it's casual, neutral.
"I watched you being so brave, Mags, and I don't guess I'll ever be half as brave as you, but I suppose it egged me on to get my courage up a little."
I take a second look at tan and gangly 'Lito. His eyes are as dark as the shore at midnight. After a second, I realize he's waiting for something from me. Some kind of cue. "Yeah?" I prompt him.
"I like you, Mags," he says, and after that he holds his breath.
It feels good. I remember all over again to be liked by someone I won't be expected to kill. Inside I sense a question mark: maybe I could like him back? "Since when?" I ask, but show I mean it nice by beginning to smile.
"Since we were fourteen and I saw you win the girls' high jump competition at school."
It feels like a lifetime ago. "I guess if you still like someone even after you've watched her kill people you like her a lot," I wager.
"Yeah, probably," 'Lito agrees.
"Why don't you come inside?" I decide, "I've got limes and ice tea."
"Limes are really good with fish tacos," 'Lito offers.
I don't know what to say to him any better than he knows what to say to me. But, well, okay. Soon enough, I'm sure that won't be the case. I mean, what with all that happened, I am changed, but… I'm still Mags.
"I like stuff that's sour." The better, of course, to bring out the sweet.