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31_days2012-12-26 04:40 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-12-26 04:40 pm
[Dec. 26] [The Hunger Games] Know Your District 4 Victors!
Title: Know Your District 4 Victors! a commemorative pamphlet for these days leading up to the Third Quarter Quell
Day/Theme: Dec. 26, 2012 "suffering in noise"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Finnick, Mags, mentions of Annie, other District 4 victors (a la Photo of a Victor)
Rating: PG
There was a promotional pamphlet printed up concerning the victors of District 4 in the unpleasant interim between the Quarter Quell announcement and the actual reapings. Perhaps they were created for other districts as well (the other career districts, at least, Finnick guessed), but this was the only one he saw as the district escort saw fit to mail him a copy.
Eight potential returning tributes and a small obituary note for those in the Capitol who had missed or forgotten the passing of Jules Surfjan (victor, 37th Games; weapon of choice: mace)- not that anyone in 4 could've.
Finnick walked along the sandy street to Mags' home. Music poured out the open windows. It, thankfully, wasn't coming from the television. She was listening to one of her records. The door was unlocked. He knocked and then walked in.
"Mags, did you see this?" he pressed the glossy folded paper into her hands.
"No," she frowned. She opened it up and he read over her shoulder, taking in the details he had only skimmed previously in his disgust.
There were photos of each of them. A fairly current photo alongside a file photo from the initial celebration of their victory. Mags had aged the most, of course, but had she changed the most?
"Mags Gaudet. Victor, 12th Games; Weapon of choice: fish hook; Age: 80."
"Gaudet," Finnick read aloud. He hadn't thought about it much before. "You kept your name? Or weren't you and 'Lito actually married?"
"Officially weren't," she confirmed. She didn't have to say much for someone who knew her so well to grasp the idea.
"You know we used to call him 'Mr. Mags,' right?" he grinned. That was a good memory. 'Lito had liked kids. He'd owned a boat repair shop and always hired a few kids whose families could use the extra money to work there even if they weren't very helpful. Because he was basically Mr. Mags, he could afford it. …He'd seemed to like pretty much everyone honestly. After his funeral, Mags once expressed to Finnick how she had always wondered at how he could love someone like her ("It was right after my Games that he first told me that he liked me").
She smiled and nodded indulgently. It had certainly never bothered 'Lito (the man would've died for the chance to be the legally wed "Mr. Mags").
They looked on to the other pictures. "Tyde Barrow. Victor, 24th Games; Weapon of choice: harpoon; Age: 69." "Shad Atwater. Victor, 29th Games; Weapon of choice: glaive; Age: 63."
"Shad looks a lot older than Tyde," Finnick remarked. Of course, Shad rarely took a good photograph, so that perception was only pushed further on the page than it would be in person. "Of course, he doesn't have to worry about looking pretty and hauling in the sponsors. He's got the worst odds of being called of all of us."
Mags muttered some slight indignation, rolling her eyes, but Finnick knew she would see the reasoning behind his argument. "The Capitol wants a good show, not a bad one. None of you, Mags, you or Shad or Tyde ever made a secret of the fact that he's the least popular victor we've ever had."
"Brave though," Mags said and the meaning of this was not instantly decipherable.
"Hmm," Finnick responded noncommittally.
"Odysseus Armain. Victor, 35th Games; Weapon of choice: katana; Age: 58." "He and Jules were almost back to back," Finnick observed. 1 and 2 were the only districts with back to back victors.
"Jules couldn't thirty-sixth," his mentor shook her head.
"Well, I won when I was fourteen."
"Conditions, not age."
"I see."
Then came 4's second female victor: "Song Wen-Goff. Victor, 51st Games; Weapon of choice: machete; Age: 40." "Song turned forty." Of course, they weren't that close, so could Finnick really blame her for not mentioning it? But he didn't think of her as forty. That was bad. The Capitol bias for youth pointed very directly at Annie as the female tribute for the Quarter Quell. Mags said she would never allow them to reap Annie, but… He worried. As bad as it would be to go back himself, since he was such a sure thing and he trusted in his own continued abilities, it didn't worry him as much as things with Annie. There was some dark part that he wouldn't confess to aloud that wished that the Capitol would go for the next youngest pair of victors. "C'mon," he wanted to tempt the Gamemakers, "Remember Song Wen and her machete? Remember Theo Goff dropping flowers? And they're married!" but that was as cruel as it likely was useless. The Capitol knew who they wanted already (all eight of them agreed on that). Volunteering was the only thing that would change that.
…Mags was going to volunteer. She hadn't said it explicitly, but he knew. It sent a shiver down his spine. It didn't matter which woman they pulled. Mags was going back into the arena. And, actually, Finnick thought she would prefer it as a volunteer. She was going to relish being a double volunteer, he thought. It made a certain kind of statement. The commentators were going to love that. There was probably no better way to receive attention in the plus fifty crowd.
"Theo Goff. Victor, 55th Games; Weapons of choice: rope and pen knife; Age: 36." (Was it possible that Theo had never had a good hair day away from the stylists in his life?)
And then there they were: "Finnick Odair. Victor, 65th Games; Weapons of choice: trident and net; Age: 24." "Annie Cresta. Victor, 70th Games; Weapon of choice: bare hands; Age: 20."
"Bare hands" sounded very nice and all, but it wasn't as if Annie were some amazing fist-fighter. Her hands were a weapon of circumstance. She had used them to drown other tributes when the dam broke and flooded the arena. She had never had a chance to use the weapon she had chosen from the Cornucopia before it was swept from her hands by the water. The other careers had handled all the killing up until then.
"Mags," Finnick said, "They're going to reap Annie. I think I might die if something happens to her. I might go crazy."
She made a familiar gesture. The "you and me" gesture. "Great team," Mags said. "Song, Theo; great mentors. Tyde, Shad, Odysseus, Annie; great rebellion."
It continually amazed him how brave she was. Inside the arena, he knew he would do better. It was all the whirlpools outside that swept him off his feet. He forced himself to smile. He could imagine it now. How were the Gamemakers going to like it when he made sure that an eighty-year-old woman with a cane survived the Hunger Games?
"Now then," she turned over her record, "Wanna dance?"
"Oh, Mags," he carefully took her hand, "Of course."
Day/Theme: Dec. 26, 2012 "suffering in noise"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Finnick, Mags, mentions of Annie, other District 4 victors (a la Photo of a Victor)
Rating: PG
There was a promotional pamphlet printed up concerning the victors of District 4 in the unpleasant interim between the Quarter Quell announcement and the actual reapings. Perhaps they were created for other districts as well (the other career districts, at least, Finnick guessed), but this was the only one he saw as the district escort saw fit to mail him a copy.
Eight potential returning tributes and a small obituary note for those in the Capitol who had missed or forgotten the passing of Jules Surfjan (victor, 37th Games; weapon of choice: mace)- not that anyone in 4 could've.
Finnick walked along the sandy street to Mags' home. Music poured out the open windows. It, thankfully, wasn't coming from the television. She was listening to one of her records. The door was unlocked. He knocked and then walked in.
"Mags, did you see this?" he pressed the glossy folded paper into her hands.
"No," she frowned. She opened it up and he read over her shoulder, taking in the details he had only skimmed previously in his disgust.
There were photos of each of them. A fairly current photo alongside a file photo from the initial celebration of their victory. Mags had aged the most, of course, but had she changed the most?
"Mags Gaudet. Victor, 12th Games; Weapon of choice: fish hook; Age: 80."
"Gaudet," Finnick read aloud. He hadn't thought about it much before. "You kept your name? Or weren't you and 'Lito actually married?"
"Officially weren't," she confirmed. She didn't have to say much for someone who knew her so well to grasp the idea.
"You know we used to call him 'Mr. Mags,' right?" he grinned. That was a good memory. 'Lito had liked kids. He'd owned a boat repair shop and always hired a few kids whose families could use the extra money to work there even if they weren't very helpful. Because he was basically Mr. Mags, he could afford it. …He'd seemed to like pretty much everyone honestly. After his funeral, Mags once expressed to Finnick how she had always wondered at how he could love someone like her ("It was right after my Games that he first told me that he liked me").
She smiled and nodded indulgently. It had certainly never bothered 'Lito (the man would've died for the chance to be the legally wed "Mr. Mags").
They looked on to the other pictures. "Tyde Barrow. Victor, 24th Games; Weapon of choice: harpoon; Age: 69." "Shad Atwater. Victor, 29th Games; Weapon of choice: glaive; Age: 63."
"Shad looks a lot older than Tyde," Finnick remarked. Of course, Shad rarely took a good photograph, so that perception was only pushed further on the page than it would be in person. "Of course, he doesn't have to worry about looking pretty and hauling in the sponsors. He's got the worst odds of being called of all of us."
Mags muttered some slight indignation, rolling her eyes, but Finnick knew she would see the reasoning behind his argument. "The Capitol wants a good show, not a bad one. None of you, Mags, you or Shad or Tyde ever made a secret of the fact that he's the least popular victor we've ever had."
"Brave though," Mags said and the meaning of this was not instantly decipherable.
"Hmm," Finnick responded noncommittally.
"Odysseus Armain. Victor, 35th Games; Weapon of choice: katana; Age: 58." "He and Jules were almost back to back," Finnick observed. 1 and 2 were the only districts with back to back victors.
"Jules couldn't thirty-sixth," his mentor shook her head.
"Well, I won when I was fourteen."
"Conditions, not age."
"I see."
Then came 4's second female victor: "Song Wen-Goff. Victor, 51st Games; Weapon of choice: machete; Age: 40." "Song turned forty." Of course, they weren't that close, so could Finnick really blame her for not mentioning it? But he didn't think of her as forty. That was bad. The Capitol bias for youth pointed very directly at Annie as the female tribute for the Quarter Quell. Mags said she would never allow them to reap Annie, but… He worried. As bad as it would be to go back himself, since he was such a sure thing and he trusted in his own continued abilities, it didn't worry him as much as things with Annie. There was some dark part that he wouldn't confess to aloud that wished that the Capitol would go for the next youngest pair of victors. "C'mon," he wanted to tempt the Gamemakers, "Remember Song Wen and her machete? Remember Theo Goff dropping flowers? And they're married!" but that was as cruel as it likely was useless. The Capitol knew who they wanted already (all eight of them agreed on that). Volunteering was the only thing that would change that.
…Mags was going to volunteer. She hadn't said it explicitly, but he knew. It sent a shiver down his spine. It didn't matter which woman they pulled. Mags was going back into the arena. And, actually, Finnick thought she would prefer it as a volunteer. She was going to relish being a double volunteer, he thought. It made a certain kind of statement. The commentators were going to love that. There was probably no better way to receive attention in the plus fifty crowd.
"Theo Goff. Victor, 55th Games; Weapons of choice: rope and pen knife; Age: 36." (Was it possible that Theo had never had a good hair day away from the stylists in his life?)
And then there they were: "Finnick Odair. Victor, 65th Games; Weapons of choice: trident and net; Age: 24." "Annie Cresta. Victor, 70th Games; Weapon of choice: bare hands; Age: 20."
"Bare hands" sounded very nice and all, but it wasn't as if Annie were some amazing fist-fighter. Her hands were a weapon of circumstance. She had used them to drown other tributes when the dam broke and flooded the arena. She had never had a chance to use the weapon she had chosen from the Cornucopia before it was swept from her hands by the water. The other careers had handled all the killing up until then.
"Mags," Finnick said, "They're going to reap Annie. I think I might die if something happens to her. I might go crazy."
She made a familiar gesture. The "you and me" gesture. "Great team," Mags said. "Song, Theo; great mentors. Tyde, Shad, Odysseus, Annie; great rebellion."
It continually amazed him how brave she was. Inside the arena, he knew he would do better. It was all the whirlpools outside that swept him off his feet. He forced himself to smile. He could imagine it now. How were the Gamemakers going to like it when he made sure that an eighty-year-old woman with a cane survived the Hunger Games?
"Now then," she turned over her record, "Wanna dance?"
"Oh, Mags," he carefully took her hand, "Of course."