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31_days2012-07-28 03:19 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-28 03:19 pm
[July 28] [The Hunger Games] Don't Make a Scene
Title: Don't Make a Scene
Day/Theme: July 28, 2012 "If inconvenient, come anyway."
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags, OCs
Rating: PG-13
Author's comment: It doesn't pick up precisely where the last one left off, but something of a continue from yesterday's piece.
"The president has requested that you come and sit with him," a stern man with an elaborately curled short beard says to me.
"I don't think I want to." He did say "request," after all. Jack looks around nervously, but doesn't step away or make me let go of his arm.
"You have to," the man corrects himself.
"Fishsticks," I grumble, which sets Jack to laughing. And apparently I'm the only one they want, because the man takes my arm in a gentle sort of way, not like he intends to drag me there, but like he wants to make sure I don't fall over and make an even bigger scene as I've already made.
"Bye-bye, Fishsticks. It was nice knowing you," Kayta bestows an impromptu nickname upon me as I pass him by. The woman he was dancing with is getting pretty frustrated as he ignores her while she smacks his arm with her plastic folding fan.
"Is everyone in District 4 that into public displays of affection?" Pal asks as I step onto the dais where the president's table sits. Pal takes me from the bearded Capitol man, who appears happy to be rid of me. The man heads directly to the president once he leaves me, probably to report that the matter of breaking up the drunk and disorderly victors has been accomplished.
I hope that the president doesn't want to actually talk to me. He makes me nervous. And, anyway, what is he going to tell me that I don't already know. Margarete Gaudet, you're a real idiot.
Pal sets me down in a reddish colored chair beside the table. "Be good," he chides me like an older brother, even though we're basically the same age. It's Pal's personality, or that in combination with some victor seniority thing. He's already about to drift away though. He gives me one last command before stepping away: "Sober up."
The chair to my left is empty. To my right, in a flowing dress of various see-through layers, is the newly crowned victor of the 13th Hunger Games, Silk Sachet. Not only is she just fourteen, but she's small. I smile at her, because what else am I going to do? Did she see what I just did? Should I be embarrassed?
"You're Mags from District 4, right?" Silk says. She seems interested in me. Would she have been this curious before I made an enormous fool of myself in front of the entire party (and via camera, probably most of the Capitol by the time the celebrity gossip programs air, if not all of Panem)?
"Yes, I am," I inform her. I instigated that idiocy with Jack because I wanted to help her somehow, but now that we're sitting together, I find I'm not sure what else I want to say. 'Stop being so cute?' 'Don't take off your top on camera again?' I'm getting tired of realizing how stupid and short-sighted I am.
"What happened to Faline Beaumont?"
She remembers the Reaping Day the year before hers. She remembers that I wasn't reaped. That I volunteered. And not only that, she remembers Faline by name. It's official. I really, really like Silk Sachet.
"She's great," I say, which is true, even if it's a sort of awkward answer.
"That's good. I mean, I bet she was almost more relieved when you when than you were, Mags. I think it might be kind of hard to deal with if someone volunteered in your place and ended up dying."
It was something that occurred to me in the arena (yet another of the many things I realized sort of belatedly), so I know what she's talking about.
"I suppose there are a bunch of people who had to deal with that though," she muses, "I mean, there have been other volunteers, but you're the only one so far who ended up a victor."
Well, Silk is already one of the victors, isn't she? Nice and morbid.
Day/Theme: July 28, 2012 "If inconvenient, come anyway."
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags, OCs
Rating: PG-13
Author's comment: It doesn't pick up precisely where the last one left off, but something of a continue from yesterday's piece.
"The president has requested that you come and sit with him," a stern man with an elaborately curled short beard says to me.
"I don't think I want to." He did say "request," after all. Jack looks around nervously, but doesn't step away or make me let go of his arm.
"You have to," the man corrects himself.
"Fishsticks," I grumble, which sets Jack to laughing. And apparently I'm the only one they want, because the man takes my arm in a gentle sort of way, not like he intends to drag me there, but like he wants to make sure I don't fall over and make an even bigger scene as I've already made.
"Bye-bye, Fishsticks. It was nice knowing you," Kayta bestows an impromptu nickname upon me as I pass him by. The woman he was dancing with is getting pretty frustrated as he ignores her while she smacks his arm with her plastic folding fan.
"Is everyone in District 4 that into public displays of affection?" Pal asks as I step onto the dais where the president's table sits. Pal takes me from the bearded Capitol man, who appears happy to be rid of me. The man heads directly to the president once he leaves me, probably to report that the matter of breaking up the drunk and disorderly victors has been accomplished.
I hope that the president doesn't want to actually talk to me. He makes me nervous. And, anyway, what is he going to tell me that I don't already know. Margarete Gaudet, you're a real idiot.
Pal sets me down in a reddish colored chair beside the table. "Be good," he chides me like an older brother, even though we're basically the same age. It's Pal's personality, or that in combination with some victor seniority thing. He's already about to drift away though. He gives me one last command before stepping away: "Sober up."
The chair to my left is empty. To my right, in a flowing dress of various see-through layers, is the newly crowned victor of the 13th Hunger Games, Silk Sachet. Not only is she just fourteen, but she's small. I smile at her, because what else am I going to do? Did she see what I just did? Should I be embarrassed?
"You're Mags from District 4, right?" Silk says. She seems interested in me. Would she have been this curious before I made an enormous fool of myself in front of the entire party (and via camera, probably most of the Capitol by the time the celebrity gossip programs air, if not all of Panem)?
"Yes, I am," I inform her. I instigated that idiocy with Jack because I wanted to help her somehow, but now that we're sitting together, I find I'm not sure what else I want to say. 'Stop being so cute?' 'Don't take off your top on camera again?' I'm getting tired of realizing how stupid and short-sighted I am.
"What happened to Faline Beaumont?"
She remembers the Reaping Day the year before hers. She remembers that I wasn't reaped. That I volunteered. And not only that, she remembers Faline by name. It's official. I really, really like Silk Sachet.
"She's great," I say, which is true, even if it's a sort of awkward answer.
"That's good. I mean, I bet she was almost more relieved when you when than you were, Mags. I think it might be kind of hard to deal with if someone volunteered in your place and ended up dying."
It was something that occurred to me in the arena (yet another of the many things I realized sort of belatedly), so I know what she's talking about.
"I suppose there are a bunch of people who had to deal with that though," she muses, "I mean, there have been other volunteers, but you're the only one so far who ended up a victor."
Well, Silk is already one of the victors, isn't she? Nice and morbid.