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31_days2013-03-08 04:45 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-03-08 04:45 pm
[Mar. 8] [The Hunger Games] Victor's Bouquet
Title: Victor's Bouquet
Day/Theme: March 8, 2013 "there is no red rose"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: OC victors, Mags
Rating: PG
Author's comment: ...nearing the 20,000 word mark as I work on the story this will fall into...one long fic leads to another, I guess!
"There aren't any red roses," Silk examines the bouquet that Mr. Zimmer has given her. There are roses in pink and yellow and white and daisies in red and pink and white and yellow too, highlighted with little sprigs of greenery, curlicued leaves and bits of fern.
It's a typical post-victory comment, I gather. She's all here, but without the normal (proper?) priorities. It's like she's in a walking dream.
…Yes, that's really what it seems like watching her and that's how it was for me.
"Well, red roses are for lovers, Silk," Mr. Zimmer laughs.
"Flower language?" Mr. Bronze scoffs, "Is that still around?"
"In some circles."
"She just likes roses," Pal interjects, trying to skirt the idea. He puts his arm protectively around Silk's scrawny, almost-bare shoulders. She is tiny, so tiny, even beside Pal, who isn't all that big himself. Even though we all saw it just days ago, it's hard to reconcile this daintiness with the fact that she's killed two people. She is the youngest victor ever. She is fourteen years old. An orphan girl the factories of 8.
Her mother died in a factory fire. The same one that killed so many of the people close to Pal, though neither of them have mentioned this for the audience.
Silk keeps her eyes on the flowers. She keeps on stroking the large rose petals. "Thank you," she says, "Thank you for the flowers."
The missing red roses are made up for that night. I watch as she and Pal arrive at the party and person after person rushes up to present some to her. She receives dozens.
Day/Theme: March 8, 2013 "there is no red rose"
Series: The Hunger Games
Character/Pairing: OC victors, Mags
Rating: PG
Author's comment: ...nearing the 20,000 word mark as I work on the story this will fall into...one long fic leads to another, I guess!
"There aren't any red roses," Silk examines the bouquet that Mr. Zimmer has given her. There are roses in pink and yellow and white and daisies in red and pink and white and yellow too, highlighted with little sprigs of greenery, curlicued leaves and bits of fern.
It's a typical post-victory comment, I gather. She's all here, but without the normal (proper?) priorities. It's like she's in a walking dream.
…Yes, that's really what it seems like watching her and that's how it was for me.
"Well, red roses are for lovers, Silk," Mr. Zimmer laughs.
"Flower language?" Mr. Bronze scoffs, "Is that still around?"
"In some circles."
"She just likes roses," Pal interjects, trying to skirt the idea. He puts his arm protectively around Silk's scrawny, almost-bare shoulders. She is tiny, so tiny, even beside Pal, who isn't all that big himself. Even though we all saw it just days ago, it's hard to reconcile this daintiness with the fact that she's killed two people. She is the youngest victor ever. She is fourteen years old. An orphan girl the factories of 8.
Her mother died in a factory fire. The same one that killed so many of the people close to Pal, though neither of them have mentioned this for the audience.
Silk keeps her eyes on the flowers. She keeps on stroking the large rose petals. "Thank you," she says, "Thank you for the flowers."
The missing red roses are made up for that night. I watch as she and Pal arrive at the party and person after person rushes up to present some to her. She receives dozens.