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31_days2012-12-24 03:38 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-12-24 03:38 pm
[Dec. 24] [The Hunger Games] I Can't Even Lift My Head
Title: I Can't Even Lift My Head
Day/Theme: Dec. 24, 2012 "if I was crying, it was for freedom from myself"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Haymitch, Chaff, other victors (OCs and others in small parts)
Rating: PG-13
Author's comment: Getting a little further into the Sufjan Stevens spirit with this title, ha ha.
It was the side of the victors that the Capitol did its utmost to keep off television. They did a pretty damn good job of it, actually, Haymitch thought, now that he got to see them all up close and doing their mentor thing to varying levels of ability. Three hours in and both his kids were dead. Already. Just like that. It was worse than he expected, but back to back wins were pretty rare even for the career districts, so, realistically, what should he have expected? Everything about being a victor was worse than he had expected (he'd have to compare stories to see if he'd managed to lose everyone he cared about in record time or if this was about par for the course), so why would things of this be any different?
And now that he was out, he was supposed to do…what?
Did other mentors leave when their tributes were out? He looked around from the desk stations filled by victors carefully (or not so carefully) monitoring the Games to the various side areas of mentor headquarters. In the viewing room with the big couch and even more enormous screen, catering was set up. …Including a fair amount of alcohol, apparently. Well, that made up his mind. Haymitch rose and kicked in his chair, startling no one because several seats on both sides of him were already empty (or, in the case of the other District 12 station, had never been filled to begin with).
Chaff was already drinking, but the man from District 4 (there were four of them or something and all of them from when he was a little kid or even before he was born and not particularly memorable to him) was there too, sobbing into one arm of the couch. If he was drunk, he'd either shown up that way, or managed it in record time. His kid was the first career down, but 4 still had a girl in the thick of it, so he didn't seem to be showing the best of judgment by abandoning the sort of older lady mentor to work along, but who was Haymitch to condemn him? It seemed to him like doing your best wasn't always worth it in these Capitol-concocted situations.
The crying man didn't lift his head as Haymitch entered, introducing himself only via a scraggly head of blond and gray locks, shivering shoulders, and some rather unpleasant sobs. Probably didn't even notice, Haymitch supposed. "…I think I won't be having what he's having," he remarked to Chaff. He thought it might be too rude to ask if this was some sort of messy withdrawal (if so, he was avoiding that drug though, because the morphling-addicted guy from 6 seemed happy at least). Enough people hated him as it was. He might as well attempt to get along with his fellow victors.
"It's psychological," Chaff explained.
Well, that could do it too. "Maybe," Haymitch picked up a bottle and didn't bother with a glass, "A drink would cheer him up then."
"He'll get over it," snapped Ios Diode around a mouthful of fancy cake. Beetee, the more recent (and better mannered) victor out of District 3, muttered a small apology for her grating behavior.
"I don't know," Chaff shook his head, "But maybe he'd appreciate the offer."
"In that case…" Haymitch snagged another bottle and headed off to invade the strange bubble of uncomfortable space the other victors had left around the District 4 man.
"Hey, buddy," he sat down beside him. Based on his own experiences, he figured it was better not to touch the stranger. Sometimes victor-hood made surprise touching a bit rough. "What's up? You want to talk? How about a drink?"
Being addressed up close and direct did get his attention. His head stayed hanging low, but he turned his face toward Haymitch's. He had a crooked nose and his eyes were different colors. His Games were before Haymitch's time- before he was born- but seeing his face put him into context, even if it didn't label him with a name or explanation. His Games had been played all underground. The tears smearing down his dirty face and welling up in his mismatched eyes had shimmered strangely in the light of mining lamp, googly and fish-like.
"You're Haymitch Abernathy," he said.
"You weren't at my party when the tour stopped in 4," Haymitch accused casually, trying to play like they were old friends, like there was nothing odd about this at all.
"I wasn't feeling well," the man answered, sniffling. "Mags and Tyde had me stay home."
"Nah, it's cool. It wasn't much of a party anyway," Haymitch reassured him, "But that means you know me, but I don't know you."
"Shad."
"…You feeling kind of alone, Shad?" he queried thoughtfully.
He didn't answer the question properly. "I've got a mom at home. And Mags. And Tyde. And there're Odysseus and Jules…"
Haymitch frowned. "Not so alone after all then." They weren't the same. Not that you could ever know what was in another person's heart.
"Hey, fish bait," Chrissie Warp interrupted them, "Mags wants you. You better get off your sorry ass and help her."
"Sorry," Shad whispered to Haymitch as he went off in response to those instructions.
It must be hard, Haymitch thought, not to get any respect.
Day/Theme: Dec. 24, 2012 "if I was crying, it was for freedom from myself"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Haymitch, Chaff, other victors (OCs and others in small parts)
Rating: PG-13
Author's comment: Getting a little further into the Sufjan Stevens spirit with this title, ha ha.
It was the side of the victors that the Capitol did its utmost to keep off television. They did a pretty damn good job of it, actually, Haymitch thought, now that he got to see them all up close and doing their mentor thing to varying levels of ability. Three hours in and both his kids were dead. Already. Just like that. It was worse than he expected, but back to back wins were pretty rare even for the career districts, so, realistically, what should he have expected? Everything about being a victor was worse than he had expected (he'd have to compare stories to see if he'd managed to lose everyone he cared about in record time or if this was about par for the course), so why would things of this be any different?
And now that he was out, he was supposed to do…what?
Did other mentors leave when their tributes were out? He looked around from the desk stations filled by victors carefully (or not so carefully) monitoring the Games to the various side areas of mentor headquarters. In the viewing room with the big couch and even more enormous screen, catering was set up. …Including a fair amount of alcohol, apparently. Well, that made up his mind. Haymitch rose and kicked in his chair, startling no one because several seats on both sides of him were already empty (or, in the case of the other District 12 station, had never been filled to begin with).
Chaff was already drinking, but the man from District 4 (there were four of them or something and all of them from when he was a little kid or even before he was born and not particularly memorable to him) was there too, sobbing into one arm of the couch. If he was drunk, he'd either shown up that way, or managed it in record time. His kid was the first career down, but 4 still had a girl in the thick of it, so he didn't seem to be showing the best of judgment by abandoning the sort of older lady mentor to work along, but who was Haymitch to condemn him? It seemed to him like doing your best wasn't always worth it in these Capitol-concocted situations.
The crying man didn't lift his head as Haymitch entered, introducing himself only via a scraggly head of blond and gray locks, shivering shoulders, and some rather unpleasant sobs. Probably didn't even notice, Haymitch supposed. "…I think I won't be having what he's having," he remarked to Chaff. He thought it might be too rude to ask if this was some sort of messy withdrawal (if so, he was avoiding that drug though, because the morphling-addicted guy from 6 seemed happy at least). Enough people hated him as it was. He might as well attempt to get along with his fellow victors.
"It's psychological," Chaff explained.
Well, that could do it too. "Maybe," Haymitch picked up a bottle and didn't bother with a glass, "A drink would cheer him up then."
"He'll get over it," snapped Ios Diode around a mouthful of fancy cake. Beetee, the more recent (and better mannered) victor out of District 3, muttered a small apology for her grating behavior.
"I don't know," Chaff shook his head, "But maybe he'd appreciate the offer."
"In that case…" Haymitch snagged another bottle and headed off to invade the strange bubble of uncomfortable space the other victors had left around the District 4 man.
"Hey, buddy," he sat down beside him. Based on his own experiences, he figured it was better not to touch the stranger. Sometimes victor-hood made surprise touching a bit rough. "What's up? You want to talk? How about a drink?"
Being addressed up close and direct did get his attention. His head stayed hanging low, but he turned his face toward Haymitch's. He had a crooked nose and his eyes were different colors. His Games were before Haymitch's time- before he was born- but seeing his face put him into context, even if it didn't label him with a name or explanation. His Games had been played all underground. The tears smearing down his dirty face and welling up in his mismatched eyes had shimmered strangely in the light of mining lamp, googly and fish-like.
"You're Haymitch Abernathy," he said.
"You weren't at my party when the tour stopped in 4," Haymitch accused casually, trying to play like they were old friends, like there was nothing odd about this at all.
"I wasn't feeling well," the man answered, sniffling. "Mags and Tyde had me stay home."
"Nah, it's cool. It wasn't much of a party anyway," Haymitch reassured him, "But that means you know me, but I don't know you."
"Shad."
"…You feeling kind of alone, Shad?" he queried thoughtfully.
He didn't answer the question properly. "I've got a mom at home. And Mags. And Tyde. And there're Odysseus and Jules…"
Haymitch frowned. "Not so alone after all then." They weren't the same. Not that you could ever know what was in another person's heart.
"Hey, fish bait," Chrissie Warp interrupted them, "Mags wants you. You better get off your sorry ass and help her."
"Sorry," Shad whispered to Haymitch as he went off in response to those instructions.
It must be hard, Haymitch thought, not to get any respect.