ext_158887 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2013-08-09 09:49 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2013-08-09 09:49 pm
[Aug. 9] [THG] Retrospect (Tell the Story)
Title: Retrospect (Tell the Story)
Day/Theme: Aug. 9, 2013 "stories twine, meet and part, and recombine"
Series: Hunger Games trilogy
Character/Pairing: Mags, other D4 victors (OCs, Finnick, Annie), other OCs from my various THG fics
Rating: PG
He went off smiling, and that was that. The last time she saw Jack Umber, citizen of District 1, and victor of the First Hunger Games. Mags would think about this moment again and again, playing it over in her mind for the rest of her long life. It was another of these things, like Jack's having been called as the first tribute in the history of the Games, that gained meaning in retrospect. The years would build it up, as all the other things, layers upon layers, like how pearls were made.
"There's a story I heard," Tyde said, "About you and the first victor."
"Who told you that?" Mags wondered. Of the people who'd known, who would've wanted to say? It was a question matter among them, mostly, like Silk was. There was an unspoken jinx to these things.
"Aura Powers," he shrugged, "I think she brought it up mostly to tick off Jack J. though. One seems like one of those endless decorative knots made of troubles. …So there was something with you and a One? They're not kind of weird?"
"Jack Umber and I used to be on television a lot together," she felt the hem of her shirt, "I'm surprised you don't remember."
"Huh," Tyde scratched his head, "That was Jack Umber? I remember you. You were always wearing that yellow shirt and cap. I guess he didn't make as much of an impression on me."
"That's all right. It's not as if you ever had a chance to meet."
"Did you like working with him?"
"Yes. It was his idea that we work together that way."
"Hmm, interesting."
"We'll be there for you. And your mother. And there are bound to be other victors who'll be your friend, Shad," Mags stroked the hair of Four's newest victor.
"Will there really?" his voice was thin and strained. He wanted to trust, but could he? In some ways, he had recently learned the whole world was upside down.
"Of course. You're such a kind person, I can't imagine how you won't connect with some of them. We victors are all in this together."
"Tyde has victor friends?"
"Yes, Sam, you know, especially, and Aura."
"And you, Miss Mags?"
"You know Pal and Shy and Kayta have been my friends since you were born, Shad."
"…But what about the friends who…" his tense voice broke up, "…Who-"
"Like Silk, like Jack?" she guessed, "They were good friends too. When things got hard we were there for each other."
"…I suppose there's no one like a district mate who can be there for you always," Shad mused.
"Long time ago now, First Games," Odysseus stacked the tapes in the club room.
"Are you trying to insinuate that Mags is old?" Tyde laughed.
"No, Miss Mags you aren't old," Odysseus spoke up to make sure she would hear, "But the Games are getting old."
"People used to think the Games would stop someday- that the Capitol would choose to stop them, I mean," Mags replied.
"Who thought that? Just a few people? Lots of people? Did Uncle Dan ever think something like that?"
"Well," Mags put down her dust rag, "I don't know about your uncle, Odysseus, but I can't say I ever got past hoping it to actually thinking it might happen. Before the first ten years, I think some people believed it though. But, I don't know, by the Eleventh Games, I think it was pretty clear that they were here to stay."
"It's weird to think about that. Was it supposed to just spontaneously happen? Were people in the Capitol going to sign a petition or something?"
"My friend from the First Games thought something like that. He thought he could convince them."
"Sounds like somebody had a kind of high opinion of himself."
It pained Mags to go on smiling. "Somewhat, I suppose, but people did listen to what he had to say." But it wasn't enough. Not if the people with the power didn't like it. Jack had thought a lot of things. Odysseus was probably right.
Jules still liked stories after his Games. That part of him hadn't changed. "Tell me," he said, lying on the porch swing, his feet up in her lap, "Tell me another."
"Yes," Mags said, "Someone has to know. Someone has to remember."
"Tell me everything," Jules answered.
He thought he was equipped to carry that pain. And Mags, at the time, believed him. So bit by bit she spilled to Jules Surfjan, her godson, everything she had seen and done and learned. It took years to tell him all that she knew about the Games and Panem and the Dark Days, about her friends who were living and her friends who had died, about her father and mother, about God and the saints of the sea, but it was good and important because it was true, because someone had to remember. Because she would not be around to remember forever.
But Mags was wrong.
These things were too much for Jules. He remembered, but not for long. He had overestimated himself, like Jack, or perhaps, also like Jack, merely lied to her. He took the memories to his death.
"It can't work, right, Ms. Mags," Song asked for confirmation on a matter very important to her, "A romantic relationship that cuts across districts? There's no hope for such a thing?"
"It could never work like one within your district could," Mags answered, which was close enough to the answer Song wanted that the question was considered solved between them. Song knew that Mags had had many years for observation and personal experience.
"Acting is my talent," Theo declared. "I'm better at it than pretty much anything else. I don't mind being in the Capitol and talking to people- I'd love to be on television more without having to fight or fear for my life."
He was right that he was good on television, although Mags wasn't quite sure she'd call him a good actor. But, yes, Theo had the aptitude. She was certain he could learn. She took a deep breath before launching into her response, "Acting can be your talent, but first off, Theo, there are some things I have to tell you about a very old friend of mine. I think you're fundamentally a different sort of person, but I can't risk it. I can't let you become another Jack Umber."
"You don't understand, Mags," Finnick said.
"No, not like you do," she hung her head, "But in a certain sort of way, I can understand. How the Capitol controls you. How the Capitol owns you. Don't think, in our own way, all of us can't."
"I'm the only one," Finnick went on. He was just saying. He wasn't contesting her point.
"I don't like to talk about it, but there's a story I should most likely tell you. A story of a long time ago..."
Annie circled the parlor and touched only one item, a framed photograph of Mags and Jack, over fifty years old. "You were so young then," she picked up the frame and held it gently in both hands (she could be dangerous, but Annie, more than any of their number, Mags thought, could also be gentle). Annie didn't ask any questions. She already knew. "You were in love," she said.
"Yes," Mags agreed, "I was."
Day/Theme: Aug. 9, 2013 "stories twine, meet and part, and recombine"
Series: Hunger Games trilogy
Character/Pairing: Mags, other D4 victors (OCs, Finnick, Annie), other OCs from my various THG fics
Rating: PG
He went off smiling, and that was that. The last time she saw Jack Umber, citizen of District 1, and victor of the First Hunger Games. Mags would think about this moment again and again, playing it over in her mind for the rest of her long life. It was another of these things, like Jack's having been called as the first tribute in the history of the Games, that gained meaning in retrospect. The years would build it up, as all the other things, layers upon layers, like how pearls were made.
"There's a story I heard," Tyde said, "About you and the first victor."
"Who told you that?" Mags wondered. Of the people who'd known, who would've wanted to say? It was a question matter among them, mostly, like Silk was. There was an unspoken jinx to these things.
"Aura Powers," he shrugged, "I think she brought it up mostly to tick off Jack J. though. One seems like one of those endless decorative knots made of troubles. …So there was something with you and a One? They're not kind of weird?"
"Jack Umber and I used to be on television a lot together," she felt the hem of her shirt, "I'm surprised you don't remember."
"Huh," Tyde scratched his head, "That was Jack Umber? I remember you. You were always wearing that yellow shirt and cap. I guess he didn't make as much of an impression on me."
"That's all right. It's not as if you ever had a chance to meet."
"Did you like working with him?"
"Yes. It was his idea that we work together that way."
"Hmm, interesting."
"We'll be there for you. And your mother. And there are bound to be other victors who'll be your friend, Shad," Mags stroked the hair of Four's newest victor.
"Will there really?" his voice was thin and strained. He wanted to trust, but could he? In some ways, he had recently learned the whole world was upside down.
"Of course. You're such a kind person, I can't imagine how you won't connect with some of them. We victors are all in this together."
"Tyde has victor friends?"
"Yes, Sam, you know, especially, and Aura."
"And you, Miss Mags?"
"You know Pal and Shy and Kayta have been my friends since you were born, Shad."
"…But what about the friends who…" his tense voice broke up, "…Who-"
"Like Silk, like Jack?" she guessed, "They were good friends too. When things got hard we were there for each other."
"…I suppose there's no one like a district mate who can be there for you always," Shad mused.
"Long time ago now, First Games," Odysseus stacked the tapes in the club room.
"Are you trying to insinuate that Mags is old?" Tyde laughed.
"No, Miss Mags you aren't old," Odysseus spoke up to make sure she would hear, "But the Games are getting old."
"People used to think the Games would stop someday- that the Capitol would choose to stop them, I mean," Mags replied.
"Who thought that? Just a few people? Lots of people? Did Uncle Dan ever think something like that?"
"Well," Mags put down her dust rag, "I don't know about your uncle, Odysseus, but I can't say I ever got past hoping it to actually thinking it might happen. Before the first ten years, I think some people believed it though. But, I don't know, by the Eleventh Games, I think it was pretty clear that they were here to stay."
"It's weird to think about that. Was it supposed to just spontaneously happen? Were people in the Capitol going to sign a petition or something?"
"My friend from the First Games thought something like that. He thought he could convince them."
"Sounds like somebody had a kind of high opinion of himself."
It pained Mags to go on smiling. "Somewhat, I suppose, but people did listen to what he had to say." But it wasn't enough. Not if the people with the power didn't like it. Jack had thought a lot of things. Odysseus was probably right.
Jules still liked stories after his Games. That part of him hadn't changed. "Tell me," he said, lying on the porch swing, his feet up in her lap, "Tell me another."
"Yes," Mags said, "Someone has to know. Someone has to remember."
"Tell me everything," Jules answered.
He thought he was equipped to carry that pain. And Mags, at the time, believed him. So bit by bit she spilled to Jules Surfjan, her godson, everything she had seen and done and learned. It took years to tell him all that she knew about the Games and Panem and the Dark Days, about her friends who were living and her friends who had died, about her father and mother, about God and the saints of the sea, but it was good and important because it was true, because someone had to remember. Because she would not be around to remember forever.
But Mags was wrong.
These things were too much for Jules. He remembered, but not for long. He had overestimated himself, like Jack, or perhaps, also like Jack, merely lied to her. He took the memories to his death.
"It can't work, right, Ms. Mags," Song asked for confirmation on a matter very important to her, "A romantic relationship that cuts across districts? There's no hope for such a thing?"
"It could never work like one within your district could," Mags answered, which was close enough to the answer Song wanted that the question was considered solved between them. Song knew that Mags had had many years for observation and personal experience.
"Acting is my talent," Theo declared. "I'm better at it than pretty much anything else. I don't mind being in the Capitol and talking to people- I'd love to be on television more without having to fight or fear for my life."
He was right that he was good on television, although Mags wasn't quite sure she'd call him a good actor. But, yes, Theo had the aptitude. She was certain he could learn. She took a deep breath before launching into her response, "Acting can be your talent, but first off, Theo, there are some things I have to tell you about a very old friend of mine. I think you're fundamentally a different sort of person, but I can't risk it. I can't let you become another Jack Umber."
"You don't understand, Mags," Finnick said.
"No, not like you do," she hung her head, "But in a certain sort of way, I can understand. How the Capitol controls you. How the Capitol owns you. Don't think, in our own way, all of us can't."
"I'm the only one," Finnick went on. He was just saying. He wasn't contesting her point.
"I don't like to talk about it, but there's a story I should most likely tell you. A story of a long time ago..."
Annie circled the parlor and touched only one item, a framed photograph of Mags and Jack, over fifty years old. "You were so young then," she picked up the frame and held it gently in both hands (she could be dangerous, but Annie, more than any of their number, Mags thought, could also be gentle). Annie didn't ask any questions. She already knew. "You were in love," she said.
"Yes," Mags agreed, "I was."