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31_days2012-07-27 08:22 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-27 08:22 pm
[July 27] [The Hunger Games] The Ones the Capitol Loves
Title: The Ones the Capitol Loves
Day/Theme: July 27, 2012 "people like me, with knives"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags, OCs
Rating: PG-13
The floor shifts a bit beneath my feet- or, well, not really, but it feels that way to me. I reappraise the turquoise-colored drink in my hand. Maybe I have had enough. Am I a little drunk? I am pretty sure I've had enough. I set my drink down on the nearest table with no intent to reclaim it.
Unlike my last Capitol party, this time I am, fortunately, far from the center of attention. Silk is the newest victor of the Hunger Games. Everyone wants to talk to her, to look at her, to dance with her. But there's something about the way so many of them look at her. I noticed it before the games were even over. Something about Silk makes a lot of people look at her- in a way that makes me nervous. …Did they look at me like that and I just never noticed? Do they still?
I shuffle out of the way so I can lean against the wall. Teejay is sitting on the ground nearby, his chin propped up on his knees, as he watches the other guests mill around and talk and dance. I wonder momentarily if he's a bit drunk too, but decide that this is probably just another day for Teejay and his morphling addiction. …And even if it's not, what's the difference?
I'm not above sitting on the floor either. I slide down beside him. The world seems much steadier that way anyway. "Are you having fun, Teejay?" I ask him.
"This place is beautiful," he sighs, "The people are so beautiful too. All the colors…"
Well, if you like to see colors unnatural combinations and brightnesses, I imagine a Capitol party can't be beat. "Yeah," I agree, "Yeah, it is."
"Are the two of you making friends now?" Jack Umber asks us out of the blue. I mean, I knew he was here somewhere, Apple told me that all of the other victors would be (she was pretty disappointed that she wasn't included anymore now that I was old news), but I hadn't seen him yet. And, usually, when he's in my vicinity, I manage to notice Jack Umber.
"I think today we're on the same page," I venture, although I'm not honestly not sure that Teejay even knows who I am and that he's met me a couple of times before.
"That's good, that's good. That's your victor solidarity movement at work, right, Mags?" Jack teases.
"Oh, shut up," I swing a lazy fist out and knock my knuckles against his leg.
"Come on," Jack leans over and solidly grasps my upper arm, "I'm sure Teejay is already your friend for life; let's go spread some of that solidarity movement to the masses."
"Ah, Jack, not now," I groan as he tugs me to my feet. I don't put enough effort into holding myself in place and sway against his side.
"Mags loves you, Jack." Why does Teejay find it within himself to speak up now when he usually stays inside his head? And to say something like that, of all things?
"Yes, I know," Jack laughs it off, "Everyone loves me, Teejay! But, the problem confronting us right now is the fact that, at this very moment, they love Silk even more."
He's right, I realize. The looks they give Silk. The things they ask her. All the sponsors she received. It wasn't just Pal working the crowd. It was a very pretty girl from District 8 innocently washing out her bloody shirt in the lake.
I look across the room. She is standing with the president right now. Even he looks at Silk like he wants something from her. Does he want to cut her open? Does he want to eat her up? All the horrible things that can be done to a (relatively) innocent young girl overlap in my mind.
What luck was it that kept that girl from being me? Maybe I have the fact that I'm not very pretty to thank.
It's too late, I think. The damage has been done. She is adorable, desirable. Someone more interesting than me or Pal or Beto or Emmy Pollack. …Someone a bit like Jack, it hits me. I have some questions for later for Jack if I can ask and he can answer.
I can only think of one thing to do for her, and it will only be temporary. But it's the best I can do. "Let's make a scene," I suggest to Jack.
"What's that now?" he asks. I'm not sure if he was distracted or if I was unclear.
"You're not afraid of attention, Jack," I sort of ask and sort of say, reassuring myself of the truth of the statement, because even if Jack isn't afraid of attention, in a way, I am.
"How do you want to do that?" he wonders, clearly open to hearing my plan at least, "Are we going to start a fight or something? …Because I don't really want to have to hit you, Mags-"
I grab his shirt and stand up on my toes, taking advantage of the fact that as he talks to me he is already leaning down a bit, and, right then and there (I think I really am a little drunk), I kiss Jack Umber, the victor of the 1st Hunger Games.
Kayta Hiro, from District 7, is so surprised by what he's seeing he accidentally spins the Capitol woman he's dancing with into the table, where her ridiculous transparent hoop dress knocks the punch bowl and several trays of appetizers onto the floor. And, well. Everyone is definitely looking at us now.
Victor solidarity (not that he intended it). Thanks, Kayta.
Day/Theme: July 27, 2012 "people like me, with knives"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags, OCs
Rating: PG-13
The floor shifts a bit beneath my feet- or, well, not really, but it feels that way to me. I reappraise the turquoise-colored drink in my hand. Maybe I have had enough. Am I a little drunk? I am pretty sure I've had enough. I set my drink down on the nearest table with no intent to reclaim it.
Unlike my last Capitol party, this time I am, fortunately, far from the center of attention. Silk is the newest victor of the Hunger Games. Everyone wants to talk to her, to look at her, to dance with her. But there's something about the way so many of them look at her. I noticed it before the games were even over. Something about Silk makes a lot of people look at her- in a way that makes me nervous. …Did they look at me like that and I just never noticed? Do they still?
I shuffle out of the way so I can lean against the wall. Teejay is sitting on the ground nearby, his chin propped up on his knees, as he watches the other guests mill around and talk and dance. I wonder momentarily if he's a bit drunk too, but decide that this is probably just another day for Teejay and his morphling addiction. …And even if it's not, what's the difference?
I'm not above sitting on the floor either. I slide down beside him. The world seems much steadier that way anyway. "Are you having fun, Teejay?" I ask him.
"This place is beautiful," he sighs, "The people are so beautiful too. All the colors…"
Well, if you like to see colors unnatural combinations and brightnesses, I imagine a Capitol party can't be beat. "Yeah," I agree, "Yeah, it is."
"Are the two of you making friends now?" Jack Umber asks us out of the blue. I mean, I knew he was here somewhere, Apple told me that all of the other victors would be (she was pretty disappointed that she wasn't included anymore now that I was old news), but I hadn't seen him yet. And, usually, when he's in my vicinity, I manage to notice Jack Umber.
"I think today we're on the same page," I venture, although I'm not honestly not sure that Teejay even knows who I am and that he's met me a couple of times before.
"That's good, that's good. That's your victor solidarity movement at work, right, Mags?" Jack teases.
"Oh, shut up," I swing a lazy fist out and knock my knuckles against his leg.
"Come on," Jack leans over and solidly grasps my upper arm, "I'm sure Teejay is already your friend for life; let's go spread some of that solidarity movement to the masses."
"Ah, Jack, not now," I groan as he tugs me to my feet. I don't put enough effort into holding myself in place and sway against his side.
"Mags loves you, Jack." Why does Teejay find it within himself to speak up now when he usually stays inside his head? And to say something like that, of all things?
"Yes, I know," Jack laughs it off, "Everyone loves me, Teejay! But, the problem confronting us right now is the fact that, at this very moment, they love Silk even more."
He's right, I realize. The looks they give Silk. The things they ask her. All the sponsors she received. It wasn't just Pal working the crowd. It was a very pretty girl from District 8 innocently washing out her bloody shirt in the lake.
I look across the room. She is standing with the president right now. Even he looks at Silk like he wants something from her. Does he want to cut her open? Does he want to eat her up? All the horrible things that can be done to a (relatively) innocent young girl overlap in my mind.
What luck was it that kept that girl from being me? Maybe I have the fact that I'm not very pretty to thank.
It's too late, I think. The damage has been done. She is adorable, desirable. Someone more interesting than me or Pal or Beto or Emmy Pollack. …Someone a bit like Jack, it hits me. I have some questions for later for Jack if I can ask and he can answer.
I can only think of one thing to do for her, and it will only be temporary. But it's the best I can do. "Let's make a scene," I suggest to Jack.
"What's that now?" he asks. I'm not sure if he was distracted or if I was unclear.
"You're not afraid of attention, Jack," I sort of ask and sort of say, reassuring myself of the truth of the statement, because even if Jack isn't afraid of attention, in a way, I am.
"How do you want to do that?" he wonders, clearly open to hearing my plan at least, "Are we going to start a fight or something? …Because I don't really want to have to hit you, Mags-"
I grab his shirt and stand up on my toes, taking advantage of the fact that as he talks to me he is already leaning down a bit, and, right then and there (I think I really am a little drunk), I kiss Jack Umber, the victor of the 1st Hunger Games.
Kayta Hiro, from District 7, is so surprised by what he's seeing he accidentally spins the Capitol woman he's dancing with into the table, where her ridiculous transparent hoop dress knocks the punch bowl and several trays of appetizers onto the floor. And, well. Everyone is definitely looking at us now.
Victor solidarity (not that he intended it). Thanks, Kayta.