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31_days2012-12-15 12:37 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-12-15 12:37 pm
[Dec. 15] [The Hunger Games] May the Best Man Win
Title: May the Best Man Win
Day/Theme: Dec. 15, 2012 "swaggered and swayed"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: OC District 2 victors, Mags
Rating: PG
Author's Comment: The third in a collection of stories about the 13th Hunger Games from the point of view of the mentors a la 'Save Yourself' and my other fics on this topic. This one focuses on District 2.
Better, stronger, faster, braver, victorious. It was Gerik's motto. His mantra. It had done it. It had worked. He had won the Sixth Hunger Games and come back home to the things that he liked, the things that were important to him. He jumped rope fast and his tiny sister jumped rope slow. She was ten that year. That was the best she could do. That she did it alongside him, Gerik considered enough.
But for the District 2 tributes it wouldn't be good enough. The Thirteenth Games crept up on them fast. It would have been for the best, he thought, if they were in good physical condition coming in, but unless they were already Peacemaker-trainees, what could he do about it?
Even the scrawny little (little-small, not little-young) girl from 4 agreed with this concept. She was better at explaining it in a way that would appeal to the Capitol people than he was. "Skilled tributes would make a better show, wouldn't they?" she half-asked, half-suggested, chatting with Gerik and Hector and Jack, while some of their escorts hung around. "I mean," for some reason she picked out Gerik, looking him straight in the eye, "You'd rather not all the concluding fights end up like mine, right?"
"Y-yeah," Gerik agreed. She was pretty bad. Awkward. Wimpy.
"That Haakon guy was okay though," Hector shrugged.
"But he could have been better," Gerik answered the idea. The girl was a bad fighter, but a good showman. Therein lay her resemblance to Jack, except that Jack was a good fighter as well as a good showman.
"And I could, obviously, have been much better," she nodded vigorously.
But it was too late to make any difference for the Thirteenth Games. They were already on, so, was she- Mags- thinking real far ahead, or-?
"You trained yours," Gerik realized. Technically, that was illegal, but if she'd found some way to do it without breaking the law, she was a genius. Gerik looked at her- Mags- with newfound respect. Everything she did was for a reason, he thought. Guile like muscle memory.
"Yeah, to weave baskets, maybe," Hector raised an eyebrow. He remembered what they'd shown on TV- how basket-weaving was her talent; how even guys came to learn it.
"Yes," Mags agreed.
"And they picked up a few tricks on the side," Gerik surmised.
"And yours could too," Mags said.
Some people, Hector, for instance, might have worried about why she told them, but Gerik Rinsai wasn't that type. He knew why. Mags cared a lot about fairness. And it might have been for different reasons, but Gerik felt pretty much the same way- may the best man win and all that.
His tribute, a really tough, awesome girl didn't win. Neither did Hector's. Neither did either of the ones who belonged to Mags (which was kind of too bad because the guy, Salvador, could have been considered the first tribute of his kind, but, after all, he had had less than a year of training before he went in, which wasn't likely to be enough).
Gerik, however, couldn't complain that the best man didn't win, all in all. A girl from 8, Silk Sachet, was the new victor. Her mentor, Pal Fields, was the winner, the apparent best man. In a way, it was like he'd won twice.
But in less than a year, Gerik changed his mind.
Pal Fields had won once, in the Tenth Games, whether or not he'd been the best man.
When he brought home Silk from the Thirteenth Games, he had lost, and lost so badly his first victory was all but nullified.
A mentor could help, but, ultimately, the best tributes were the ones who could bring themselves home. Gerik Rinsai wasn't about to make those same mistakes.
Day/Theme: Dec. 15, 2012 "swaggered and swayed"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: OC District 2 victors, Mags
Rating: PG
Author's Comment: The third in a collection of stories about the 13th Hunger Games from the point of view of the mentors a la 'Save Yourself' and my other fics on this topic. This one focuses on District 2.
Better, stronger, faster, braver, victorious. It was Gerik's motto. His mantra. It had done it. It had worked. He had won the Sixth Hunger Games and come back home to the things that he liked, the things that were important to him. He jumped rope fast and his tiny sister jumped rope slow. She was ten that year. That was the best she could do. That she did it alongside him, Gerik considered enough.
But for the District 2 tributes it wouldn't be good enough. The Thirteenth Games crept up on them fast. It would have been for the best, he thought, if they were in good physical condition coming in, but unless they were already Peacemaker-trainees, what could he do about it?
Even the scrawny little (little-small, not little-young) girl from 4 agreed with this concept. She was better at explaining it in a way that would appeal to the Capitol people than he was. "Skilled tributes would make a better show, wouldn't they?" she half-asked, half-suggested, chatting with Gerik and Hector and Jack, while some of their escorts hung around. "I mean," for some reason she picked out Gerik, looking him straight in the eye, "You'd rather not all the concluding fights end up like mine, right?"
"Y-yeah," Gerik agreed. She was pretty bad. Awkward. Wimpy.
"That Haakon guy was okay though," Hector shrugged.
"But he could have been better," Gerik answered the idea. The girl was a bad fighter, but a good showman. Therein lay her resemblance to Jack, except that Jack was a good fighter as well as a good showman.
"And I could, obviously, have been much better," she nodded vigorously.
But it was too late to make any difference for the Thirteenth Games. They were already on, so, was she- Mags- thinking real far ahead, or-?
"You trained yours," Gerik realized. Technically, that was illegal, but if she'd found some way to do it without breaking the law, she was a genius. Gerik looked at her- Mags- with newfound respect. Everything she did was for a reason, he thought. Guile like muscle memory.
"Yeah, to weave baskets, maybe," Hector raised an eyebrow. He remembered what they'd shown on TV- how basket-weaving was her talent; how even guys came to learn it.
"Yes," Mags agreed.
"And they picked up a few tricks on the side," Gerik surmised.
"And yours could too," Mags said.
Some people, Hector, for instance, might have worried about why she told them, but Gerik Rinsai wasn't that type. He knew why. Mags cared a lot about fairness. And it might have been for different reasons, but Gerik felt pretty much the same way- may the best man win and all that.
His tribute, a really tough, awesome girl didn't win. Neither did Hector's. Neither did either of the ones who belonged to Mags (which was kind of too bad because the guy, Salvador, could have been considered the first tribute of his kind, but, after all, he had had less than a year of training before he went in, which wasn't likely to be enough).
Gerik, however, couldn't complain that the best man didn't win, all in all. A girl from 8, Silk Sachet, was the new victor. Her mentor, Pal Fields, was the winner, the apparent best man. In a way, it was like he'd won twice.
But in less than a year, Gerik changed his mind.
Pal Fields had won once, in the Tenth Games, whether or not he'd been the best man.
When he brought home Silk from the Thirteenth Games, he had lost, and lost so badly his first victory was all but nullified.
A mentor could help, but, ultimately, the best tributes were the ones who could bring themselves home. Gerik Rinsai wasn't about to make those same mistakes.