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31_days2014-07-29 04:55 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2014-07-29 04:55 pm
[July 29] [THG] Party for a Victor
Title: Party for a Victor
Day/Theme: July 29, 2014 "Ceremonies of Light and Dark"
Series: Hunger Games trilogy
Character/Pairing: Mags + OC D2 victor, etc.
Rating: PG
Author's note: I'm a bit at loose ends trying to get myself together to do something else writing-wise after finishing a very long THG fic. ...this is in continuity with said fic, Your Own Kind (and, as such, contains implicit spoilers for major events in it), so not really the shift I need, but writing is writing.
There are little pinpricks of light poking out from beneath the flouncy, gray skirt of Calla's dress that light up the clothes of those around her with small circles and make the fabric of her own outfit glitter. I shake her hand. "That's very pretty," I say.
"I'm being mica schist," she shrugs and then taps her similarly shimmering circlet, studded with garnets, "Yes, with garnets. A pretty rock, I guess."
"Mica was your sister," I remember. Mr. Zimmer's commentary wouldn't have let me forget it even if I hadn't noticed myself.
"…and, yeah, you don't have to tell me what everyone else has already said." She tips her head and her short ponytail flips back over her shoulder.
"I wouldn't," I reply.
I don't think I would've even before it had been said to death. "It didn't bring her back." That's what they keep saying over and over, all the commentators. It's not like Calla's stupid. It's not like she didn't know that from the start.
Calla takes a deep breath. "They helped me. …Thanks."
Tu. Rodrigo. …And 2's other tribute, Malcolm. Together they made an alliance. And it helped all four of them. They made up half the final eight of the Fifteenth Hunger Games. "You're welcome. I'm glad that you're…that you're all together and yourself."
"It…" her face quirks into a funny smile, "It wasn't quite enough, really, but Hector didn't let me go in unprepared."
"Hector's thoughtful."
She smiles all the way at what she says next, "He's my buddy."
"He's a good buddy to have," I agree.
"Calla," Hector calls her over. She gives me a nod and sways away, the vague halo of lights surrounding her moving off across the room, leaving me standing in what seems to be comparative darkness.
Pal wobbles up drunkenly beside me, "Mags," he slurs, "Can youse take me home?"
I can't. Not home. …but I suppose that's not where he really wants to go anyway. "Yeah, sure, Pal," I agree.
I find Ceres and she calls us a car. We go back to the Games Complex. I drag Pal along to the fourth floor. We lie side by side on top of my bed. I learn that when he's drunk, he snores. He dreams about Silk, maybe. I know that I think about Jack. The "winners" are still out there, feted under the lights. We, more definitive losers, retreat and the darkness enfolds us.
Day/Theme: July 29, 2014 "Ceremonies of Light and Dark"
Series: Hunger Games trilogy
Character/Pairing: Mags + OC D2 victor, etc.
Rating: PG
Author's note: I'm a bit at loose ends trying to get myself together to do something else writing-wise after finishing a very long THG fic. ...this is in continuity with said fic, Your Own Kind (and, as such, contains implicit spoilers for major events in it), so not really the shift I need, but writing is writing.
There are little pinpricks of light poking out from beneath the flouncy, gray skirt of Calla's dress that light up the clothes of those around her with small circles and make the fabric of her own outfit glitter. I shake her hand. "That's very pretty," I say.
"I'm being mica schist," she shrugs and then taps her similarly shimmering circlet, studded with garnets, "Yes, with garnets. A pretty rock, I guess."
"Mica was your sister," I remember. Mr. Zimmer's commentary wouldn't have let me forget it even if I hadn't noticed myself.
"…and, yeah, you don't have to tell me what everyone else has already said." She tips her head and her short ponytail flips back over her shoulder.
"I wouldn't," I reply.
I don't think I would've even before it had been said to death. "It didn't bring her back." That's what they keep saying over and over, all the commentators. It's not like Calla's stupid. It's not like she didn't know that from the start.
Calla takes a deep breath. "They helped me. …Thanks."
Tu. Rodrigo. …And 2's other tribute, Malcolm. Together they made an alliance. And it helped all four of them. They made up half the final eight of the Fifteenth Hunger Games. "You're welcome. I'm glad that you're…that you're all together and yourself."
"It…" her face quirks into a funny smile, "It wasn't quite enough, really, but Hector didn't let me go in unprepared."
"Hector's thoughtful."
She smiles all the way at what she says next, "He's my buddy."
"He's a good buddy to have," I agree.
"Calla," Hector calls her over. She gives me a nod and sways away, the vague halo of lights surrounding her moving off across the room, leaving me standing in what seems to be comparative darkness.
Pal wobbles up drunkenly beside me, "Mags," he slurs, "Can youse take me home?"
I can't. Not home. …but I suppose that's not where he really wants to go anyway. "Yeah, sure, Pal," I agree.
I find Ceres and she calls us a car. We go back to the Games Complex. I drag Pal along to the fourth floor. We lie side by side on top of my bed. I learn that when he's drunk, he snores. He dreams about Silk, maybe. I know that I think about Jack. The "winners" are still out there, feted under the lights. We, more definitive losers, retreat and the darkness enfolds us.