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31_days2013-03-03 07:59 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-03-03 07:59 pm
[Mar. 3] [The Hunger Games] Everything Comes to Nothing
Title: Everything Comes to Nothing
Day/Theme: March 3, 2013 "the uselessness of all things"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags & various OCs
Rating: PG-13
I tense along with the countdown. It echoes in my ears through the headset, past and present overlapping. I'm glad I'm not in there (yet I picture myself there all the same). The tributes are arranged in a circle around a small body of clear water. There are some small bags of supplies scattered here and there around the lake and larger ones piled on a floating platform in the center (the water is so clear I can see to the bottom- the taller tributes could probably trudge out to the center on foot). This particular spot would appear picturesque under other circumstances, but I feel a growing sense of unease for my tributes as the cameras pan out. There was a lot of water in my Games and a good proportion of it was drinkable. …This is the only water in the arena. Or maybe not, but that's what I'm afraid of.
There is scruffy chaparral and scattered trees. There are hills of orangish sand. I catch sight of a trickle of a creek further afield. None of the overhead landscape shots give me much context when it comes to knowing how close these features are to our tributes.
The introductory shots wrap up and my screen splits to show focus on both of my tributes simultaneously- Shaya on the right side and Salvador on the left. If I want to see what the live feed audience is seeing, I have to switch my screen away from my tributes or spare a moment to glance up at a larger, muted screen above us (the required viewing late afternoon program will be edited together mainly from the live feed footage, but the Games editing wizards will use whatever is most interesting).
Shaya is breathing fast. I'm concerned that she's going to start hyperventilating.
Salvador looks focused, as calm as one can be in this sort of situation.
The countdown finishes and my tributes spring into action. At a moment like this, I'm glad that I'm not looking at wider view of the situation. There are too many people moving at once, too many things to take note of, as it is, coming in and out of frame around Shaya and Salvador.
They pass one another. Salvador running in and Shaya running out. The little slip of a girl from 8 bumps into Shaya and they both stumble a step or two, but neither hits the ground or engages with the other.
It's hard to watch both screens at once when everything is changing on a second by second basis.
Salvador rips open a backpack and shuffles around a tin canteen (probably empty) and a can of beans. Between them is a small hatchet, the type we might keep on a boat. A pale hand jumps in and grabs onto the handle of the hatchet above Salvador's grip. Someone thinks they can take it from him, but Salvador is willing to fight. Whoever it is (a guy, but I can't see enough to tell which), isn't letting go and Salvador isn't strong enough to merely wrest the item from his grasp. With his free hand he swings the backpack toward the head of his opponent, striking him on the side of the face (it's the boy from 2). The can of beans falls out, but this breaks the 2 boy's grip on the hatchet enough for Salvador to wrest it away.
Will he run now? Or stay and fight?
In my mind, I will him to run.
Shaya's scream fills my ears. She falls to the ground, just barely shielding her face from the soil with her arms as she crashes down to the bear earth. I see blood rise up between the strands of her hair where the rock struck her.
The girl from 1- the girl I helped Jack pick the token for- may not have been the one who threw the rock (I didn't see), but she's the one who comes. She turns the short sword around in her hand, deciding which way is best to wield it. It looks like a smaller version of the blade that Kayta Hiro favored. If it's of similar make, its edge will be sharp. Mercifully so, if she handles it well. Mercilessly if she's hesitant or sadistic.
Shaya turns over.
I'm torn between wanting her, at the same time, to get up and run, and to not look and go down without having to see that. Because the girl from 1 is going to do it if she can. She is Mr. Bronze's favorite this year.
There's still so much noise in the background, but Shaya's second screech is mic'ed just for me as the girl with the strawberry blond hair takes a slice at her and cuts off a chuck of Shaya's hair and part of her ear.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Salvador turning to look. Has he been keeping a cautious eye on her this whole time? Does he know Shaya's scream?
She scrambles in the dirt.
I look at Salvador, gaping, as Shaya's throat is slashed and she rapidly bleeds out onto the dry ground.
When her vital signs cease and she is officially dead, her side of the screen goes dark. Her official photo is displayed alongside the freezeframe of her bloody body. Shaya Current. District 4. Female. Age: 18 (it's strange to think- she was three months older than me). Height: 5'5". Weight: 110 lbs. To my perception, she is the first tribute to die, and, for my intents and purposes as a mentor, she is the first. My first. The first of what, statistically, are going to be many.
According to the onscreen information, she died fifteen minutes and twenty-four seconds in. She was the third tribute killed.
The Thirteenth Hunger Games have only been going for sixteen minutes and counting.
I stare sort of numbly at Salvador. …is there something I should be doing now? …Does he need anything? Should I be considering what kind of use to make of the meager funds I've acquired for my tributes thus far? …Because there's no point in holding onto them for later if neither of my tributes are going to make it out of the bloodbath.
But I don't do anything. My hands linger over the controls. I have no good ideas. Everything feels like it would be useless. For Shaya, everything we did was useless.
Salvador and the girl from 1 make eye contact, but neither pursues the other.
Across the mentors' control room, Emmy Pollack lets out a strangled screech as her female tribute is drowned in the lake by the 12 girl. I think this distracts nearly all of us for a second.
I look back at Salvador to see him run.
Day/Theme: March 3, 2013 "the uselessness of all things"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: Mags & various OCs
Rating: PG-13
I tense along with the countdown. It echoes in my ears through the headset, past and present overlapping. I'm glad I'm not in there (yet I picture myself there all the same). The tributes are arranged in a circle around a small body of clear water. There are some small bags of supplies scattered here and there around the lake and larger ones piled on a floating platform in the center (the water is so clear I can see to the bottom- the taller tributes could probably trudge out to the center on foot). This particular spot would appear picturesque under other circumstances, but I feel a growing sense of unease for my tributes as the cameras pan out. There was a lot of water in my Games and a good proportion of it was drinkable. …This is the only water in the arena. Or maybe not, but that's what I'm afraid of.
There is scruffy chaparral and scattered trees. There are hills of orangish sand. I catch sight of a trickle of a creek further afield. None of the overhead landscape shots give me much context when it comes to knowing how close these features are to our tributes.
The introductory shots wrap up and my screen splits to show focus on both of my tributes simultaneously- Shaya on the right side and Salvador on the left. If I want to see what the live feed audience is seeing, I have to switch my screen away from my tributes or spare a moment to glance up at a larger, muted screen above us (the required viewing late afternoon program will be edited together mainly from the live feed footage, but the Games editing wizards will use whatever is most interesting).
Shaya is breathing fast. I'm concerned that she's going to start hyperventilating.
Salvador looks focused, as calm as one can be in this sort of situation.
The countdown finishes and my tributes spring into action. At a moment like this, I'm glad that I'm not looking at wider view of the situation. There are too many people moving at once, too many things to take note of, as it is, coming in and out of frame around Shaya and Salvador.
They pass one another. Salvador running in and Shaya running out. The little slip of a girl from 8 bumps into Shaya and they both stumble a step or two, but neither hits the ground or engages with the other.
It's hard to watch both screens at once when everything is changing on a second by second basis.
Salvador rips open a backpack and shuffles around a tin canteen (probably empty) and a can of beans. Between them is a small hatchet, the type we might keep on a boat. A pale hand jumps in and grabs onto the handle of the hatchet above Salvador's grip. Someone thinks they can take it from him, but Salvador is willing to fight. Whoever it is (a guy, but I can't see enough to tell which), isn't letting go and Salvador isn't strong enough to merely wrest the item from his grasp. With his free hand he swings the backpack toward the head of his opponent, striking him on the side of the face (it's the boy from 2). The can of beans falls out, but this breaks the 2 boy's grip on the hatchet enough for Salvador to wrest it away.
Will he run now? Or stay and fight?
In my mind, I will him to run.
Shaya's scream fills my ears. She falls to the ground, just barely shielding her face from the soil with her arms as she crashes down to the bear earth. I see blood rise up between the strands of her hair where the rock struck her.
The girl from 1- the girl I helped Jack pick the token for- may not have been the one who threw the rock (I didn't see), but she's the one who comes. She turns the short sword around in her hand, deciding which way is best to wield it. It looks like a smaller version of the blade that Kayta Hiro favored. If it's of similar make, its edge will be sharp. Mercifully so, if she handles it well. Mercilessly if she's hesitant or sadistic.
Shaya turns over.
I'm torn between wanting her, at the same time, to get up and run, and to not look and go down without having to see that. Because the girl from 1 is going to do it if she can. She is Mr. Bronze's favorite this year.
There's still so much noise in the background, but Shaya's second screech is mic'ed just for me as the girl with the strawberry blond hair takes a slice at her and cuts off a chuck of Shaya's hair and part of her ear.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Salvador turning to look. Has he been keeping a cautious eye on her this whole time? Does he know Shaya's scream?
She scrambles in the dirt.
I look at Salvador, gaping, as Shaya's throat is slashed and she rapidly bleeds out onto the dry ground.
When her vital signs cease and she is officially dead, her side of the screen goes dark. Her official photo is displayed alongside the freezeframe of her bloody body. Shaya Current. District 4. Female. Age: 18 (it's strange to think- she was three months older than me). Height: 5'5". Weight: 110 lbs. To my perception, she is the first tribute to die, and, for my intents and purposes as a mentor, she is the first. My first. The first of what, statistically, are going to be many.
According to the onscreen information, she died fifteen minutes and twenty-four seconds in. She was the third tribute killed.
The Thirteenth Hunger Games have only been going for sixteen minutes and counting.
I stare sort of numbly at Salvador. …is there something I should be doing now? …Does he need anything? Should I be considering what kind of use to make of the meager funds I've acquired for my tributes thus far? …Because there's no point in holding onto them for later if neither of my tributes are going to make it out of the bloodbath.
But I don't do anything. My hands linger over the controls. I have no good ideas. Everything feels like it would be useless. For Shaya, everything we did was useless.
Salvador and the girl from 1 make eye contact, but neither pursues the other.
Across the mentors' control room, Emmy Pollack lets out a strangled screech as her female tribute is drowned in the lake by the 12 girl. I think this distracts nearly all of us for a second.
I look back at Salvador to see him run.