[Dec. 1] [The Hunger Games] Dying to Take You Away (Victory Tour)

[seta-suzume.livejournal.com]

Title: Dying to Take You Away (Victory Tour)
Day/Theme: Dec. 1, 2012 "freak and banter"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags, OCs (If you enjoyed Save Yourself, look forward to Faline, 'Lito, Papa, Apple, Aulie, & Jack../)
Rating: PG
Author's comment: This is a portion of the sequel/follow-up fic to Save Yourself, which was centered around Mags' Games, that I'm working on...


There are twelve houses in Victor's Village, so I guess the Capitol imagines a single district might have up to twelve victors at once? These were only the twelfth Games. The Victor's Village has its own docks, its own beach. It's an island. Literally and figuratively.

It feels like we're very alone. Papa and I have no neighbors. …On land, that it. At sea it's another story. At sea, things are just like the old days.

Except when I have some inexplicable (in that I can't find the trigger) bout of nerves and seeing the shape of a big fish moving through the water makes me break out in a cold sweat. Sometimes I can go out on the boat, but I can't fish. Sometimes just wading in the shallows sets me on edge.

The idea that Faline was saved by my actions this time, but could theoretically be reaped again some other year tugs at my mind. 'Lito has one more year of eligibility too. Sometimes when I meet up with one or the other of them after school I get into task-master mode. "You can't count on the arena to have big bodies of water to swim in," I say like I'm some kind of expert, or, "You can't expect to be able to get your hands on the tools you'll need or even ones you're capable of using decently."

'Lito calls this my "mentoring practice." He humors me, going swimming, practicing knots, throwing rocks at target, making fish hooks… I try to temper my arena-focused insanity in front of Faline but from time to time she still ends up running sprints along the sand with me. Of course, as close as Faline came to it, to her, as well as to 'Lito, the exercises we engage in are a game at best. They like me, so they indulge my peculiarities. Anyway, at least we do ordinary things together too. I hope Faline with her schoolwork and we make jewelry with shells and bits of glass we pick up off the beach. I help 'Lito paint in his father's boat shop; we talk a lot.

I can't manage everything they might like. I won't play a beachside game of Marco Polo. I won't let 'Lito hold my hand. How much is a result of my Games and how much is just me?

Where Games-related issues float uneasily between me and my friends, a decent number of adults have warmed to the feelings I expressed regarding readiness and volunteership. I can't know how that would've gone if I'd lost (though second place would've still made my point pretty well), but I won. An older and just better-prepared (marginally, in my case) tribute drastically improves the odds of halving the inevitable sorrow in District 4. So, maybe it's illegal to train for the Games, but what if a handful of kids have the inclination to hang out with a victor and learn some self-defense?

The Capitol wants District 4 to play into the larger game at stake here by lauding my victory, right? And they'll be doing that better if I'm a local celebrity of some sort than if I slip silently away to sulk at home in Victor's Village.

Even if there's no battle truing, which would do the most good, there is always my officially approved talent: basket-weaving. Weaving fibers by hand can make you a basket, but couldn't it also make a rope, a shelter, a component for a trap?

When the Capitol's cameras come back to capture me for my Victory Tour, Apple contrives to make sure they start with my weaving "class" (it's a bit more impromptu and instructed than how I'd describe an average class). The fact that there are six boys present to the three girls (excluding me) is played funny, as an indication of my "who wouldn't want to date a victor?" (answer: probably plenty of people in the districts) charm. This was Apple's idea and she thinks it's exceedingly clever. I'm just happy that the Victor Affairs people are obviously buying into, or willing to pretend to buy into, this as a 'cult of Mags' thing, not an infringement of the rules.

A couple of my 'students,' Estelle and Rodrigo and Che in particular, even seem to enjoy being filmed and interviewed. The reapings aren't rigged, right? This isn't going to increase their odds of being picked? Even if they're preparing to consider staring death in the face, I think any volunteer comes at the situation differently than someone randomly picked. Just being that tiny bit more in control of your own destiny makes such a difference.

Apple becomes my temporary student for the sake of the viewers back home. She's like some shiny bit of foreign debris washed up among the ordinary driftwood, surrounded by my little group: Che, Rodrigo, 'Lito, Slip, Salvador, Tack, Faline, Estelle, Marina. Apple's not a natural, but we help her make a bracelet out of palm fronds and green ribbon and she's extraordinarily proud that she was involved in its construction as I see her showing it off to Papa while the camera crew takes their lunch break on our porch.

"Maybe Mags' talent is teaching as much as weaving," Papa says to her.

"Someone taught her well first," Apples smiles at him. In her sea green and silver heels she's a bit taller than him. She looks down into Papa's eyes with an easy fondness. I realize I have no idea how old Apple is or what sort of family she has, aside from the sister I happened to meet on the hovercraft on my way out of the arena. Does Papa remind Apple of her own father?


I say good-bye to Papa and Faline on camera. I say good-bye to Mrs. Mirande on my own. In the other districts, I'll have to see the families of the fallen tributes, but that's to be a reminder of unpleasant things for them (as much as for me?). District 4 has a victor; that they also have a loss- one that I knew and like- won't be rubbed in. It would only diminish the viewing pleasure of the Capitol. Under the surface, everyone who knew Beanpole thinks about it anyway.

I'm upbeat with my good-byes in a "let's get this over with" sort of way. The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be home. And after the places I've been, it's easy to go anywhere knowing that I'll eventually come back.


The tour's first stop will be in District 12, working our way back down numerically through the districts (skipping 4) to the Capitol. It's going to take a while to reach 12, even at this speed. It's further from 4 than the Capitol is. My styling team reunites with me on board and spruces up my ordinary, plain appearance with some makeup and hairpins.

Someone else's set things up in one of the cars for a "Hey, how've you been doing since your Games, Mags?" interview to be conducted while we travel. Apple conducts it, which is good since we have a nice rapport.

Of course she still asks things that make me squirm in my seat in embarrassment. I try to answer even when it's awkward. I figure it can always be played for laughs. In fact, I'd rather it be portrayed that way considering some of the interview content. It's bothersome to imagine people in the Capitol sitting around wondering about my love life.

The questions fit the typical mold. The stuff they ask all sorts of celebrities, the stuff they ask every victor, the questions from fans.


"Have you and your father been enjoying your newfound wealth? What's the most fun you've had with the money you've earned?"

"Uh, I guess it's okay. We…re-painted and refitted the boat." As far as a living conditions upgrade, getting the new house would've been more than enough. We buy more fruit than we did in the old days, but we're used to living carefully. One windfall, however large, isn't enough to change that. I guess we're stuck in our ways.

Fixing up the boat was good though, because it employed a lot of our friends and neighbors. The Ortiz Boatshop did the paint job, the Crestas sold us nets, Majorie's shop stocked us up on all sorts of useful nautical miscellany.

"Refurbishing, hmm? Not a new boat?"

"I'm kind of the sentimental type, you know? The house in Victor's Village is really something, so that's enough newness for me and my dad. It's a good boat."


"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No." That's one of the questions that kind of gets me. I twist Faline's ring around and around.

"Well, what about a secret crush?"

She wishes, right? Maybe the viewers do. "Oh, no," I shake my head, "I've got so many other things on my mind."

"I have a feeling that you'd be able to get almost any boy around here you wanted."

"I don't know about that… I'm not that pretty and I'm really stubborn and sometimes I sleep with my mouth open and drool."

"Just a nice reminder that no one's perfect, dear," Apple chirps back at me.

"Is there something in particular you're looking forward to on your Victory Tour?"

I can play nicer with this material because I have a sincere interest in it. "Meeting the other victors," I declare plainly.

"Any of them in particular?" Apple continues.

"Any of them; all of them, really, but if I have to pick someone specific, um, Shy Evert? I guess I'm kind of her fan, actually. I was happy when she won.

We met briefly in the Capitol, but I'd also really like to see Jack Umber again."

I don't have any good reason to give as to why. I just find him…interesting.

Of course, Apple can easily find an angle to approach this from that will stir up the fervor of the big Hunger Games fans in the Capitol, mine and Jack's both. "More interesting than the boys in District Four?" she bats her gem-speckled false eyelashes.

"It's, uh, not exactly the same kind of thing, Apple," I counter, although I don't fight the accusation too much. I assume that Jack Umber knows more about show business than any other victor, since he's been in the spotlight longest and being on television is pretty much his talent (as a matter of fact, I don't know or remember what his official talent it), so this won't ruffle him much.

"Hmm, I think I'm onto something here. …Well, boys, you have some tough competition. Miss Mags went away to the Capitol and came back home with sophisticated tastes!"

"Aaaaapple," I groan melodramatically, putting hands over my face. It's as much as game as anything else.

"Do you have a special message you'd like to say to Jack in case he's watching?" she prompts me eagerly.

"Jack," I turn my face to stare directly into the camera, "People listen to you and no one listens to me, so next time you see her, tell Apple to stop making fun of me."


When the interview airs the following night, our exchange is followed up by a "special message" in reply from Jack Umber. It actually looks like he might be sitting at home, but it's probably just some sound studio set-up. "Apple!" he announces without preamble, "Stop making fun of Mags! It's not her fault that she has good taste!"

This is all so ridiculous and apparently shocking to me that it takes a moment to set in. I should be laughing now, right? I look around to see the reactions of the people watching with me. Aulie starts laughing first, hysterically, clutching his arms around his stomach. Erinne and Spring shove each other's arms, giggling, while Irish rolls her eyes and slaps her hand onto her forehead.

When I meet Apple's eyes, I see that she's taken aback as well. She begins to laugh nervously, "Well, Mags, I suppose you got what you asked for..."

An equally awkward chuckle escapes my lips, "So are you going to listen to him or will the mocking continue?"

"I think our friends back in the Capitol just about expect it now," she counters.

Jack Umber, I hope you know better than I do how to deal with what I've started, because I have no idea where I'm headed now…