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31_days2014-12-10 09:00 am
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2014-12-10 09:00 am
[Dec. 10] [THG] For Public Consumption
Title: For Public Consumption
Day/Theme: Dec. 10, 2014 "the unbearable price of earthly delights"
Series: Hunger Games trilogy
Character/Pairing: OC victor (Jack Umber)
Rating: PG-13
Author's comment: Jack, after his victory. I tend to like the mystery of leaving certain things unknown within my writing, but I figure I can give into the temptation to write about Jack a little bit.
They said that he had won, announcing his name, and the first thing he thought after that was, "Now what are they going to do with me?" He'd get to live. That was why he'd done it. For all that his life had been lonely and hungry and hard, he wanted so much to live on. Those were the rules (though who could trust the Capitol to follow rules, even if they were ones they had made up in the first place?). But, anyway, living wasn't a very comprehensive answer. For how long? And where? Would they send him back to District One with Rosie's blood on his hands? Would they keep him in the Capitol? Would he be put away in some prison? He was a murderer and his hands trembled when he thought of it.
With the work of the arena finished, he came to the minders of the game upon their beckoning. They moved slowly and were careful of him. Jack wondered how bad he looked- the adrenaline was draining away and he was starting to really hurt. Did they think he would attack them? He hadn't given a single thought to it. He didn't want any more trouble; any more complications. He just wanted to be quiet and rest. He wanted to live.
"How are you, Jack?" a man, the first and boldest among them, asked.
"Alive," he said first, then, "I have been better." …How was that? Was that good enough for them? Was that calm and considered and sane? There were gaps in his mouth now, he knew, but he pushed himself and smiled- a bit of a grin, actually.
And it worked. It struck them as a fun grin, not a crazy grin. He could tell because someone actually laughed.
They took him with them from the arena to some solemn, quiet hospital, where his injuries were dealt with one by one. Slashes stitched, cuts bandaged, bruises speeding in their fading by various balm-type medicines he had never before encountered.
They didn't ask his permission before putting him under for the surgery to replace his lost teeth. He was glad not to be left with the empty places in his smile, but disquieted by the way they had proceeded to do so without anything even approximating permission. When he looked at his new smile in a mirror he wouldn't have known the new teeth from the old ones if he hadn't remembered which he had lost in the first place. They had shined up his original smile to such an intense brilliance as to render the different provenances of the teeth had now invisible. With the right sort of expression on his face, he could render himself into someone looking something like a movie star.
After a certain amount of days spent healing, for his meals, they let him order what he liked. The eating was pleasant, an upgraded version of a familiar comfort.
Some authorized person came to take pictures of him. To show the distrustful districts and the curious Capitol that he had indeed been kept alive. "I don't have to get rid of the food, do I?" was his first wondering inquiry.
"No," the photographer laughed, "No, you can keep it."
So Jack swallowed one last bite and set down his sandwich and smiled for his first authorized public photo post-victory with a tray full of lunch on his lap. And the Capitol looked at their new little celebrity dependent and laughed and loved him, while the districts considered that grin at the hand that fed him and hated him or despaired.
Day/Theme: Dec. 10, 2014 "the unbearable price of earthly delights"
Series: Hunger Games trilogy
Character/Pairing: OC victor (Jack Umber)
Rating: PG-13
Author's comment: Jack, after his victory. I tend to like the mystery of leaving certain things unknown within my writing, but I figure I can give into the temptation to write about Jack a little bit.
They said that he had won, announcing his name, and the first thing he thought after that was, "Now what are they going to do with me?" He'd get to live. That was why he'd done it. For all that his life had been lonely and hungry and hard, he wanted so much to live on. Those were the rules (though who could trust the Capitol to follow rules, even if they were ones they had made up in the first place?). But, anyway, living wasn't a very comprehensive answer. For how long? And where? Would they send him back to District One with Rosie's blood on his hands? Would they keep him in the Capitol? Would he be put away in some prison? He was a murderer and his hands trembled when he thought of it.
With the work of the arena finished, he came to the minders of the game upon their beckoning. They moved slowly and were careful of him. Jack wondered how bad he looked- the adrenaline was draining away and he was starting to really hurt. Did they think he would attack them? He hadn't given a single thought to it. He didn't want any more trouble; any more complications. He just wanted to be quiet and rest. He wanted to live.
"How are you, Jack?" a man, the first and boldest among them, asked.
"Alive," he said first, then, "I have been better." …How was that? Was that good enough for them? Was that calm and considered and sane? There were gaps in his mouth now, he knew, but he pushed himself and smiled- a bit of a grin, actually.
And it worked. It struck them as a fun grin, not a crazy grin. He could tell because someone actually laughed.
They took him with them from the arena to some solemn, quiet hospital, where his injuries were dealt with one by one. Slashes stitched, cuts bandaged, bruises speeding in their fading by various balm-type medicines he had never before encountered.
They didn't ask his permission before putting him under for the surgery to replace his lost teeth. He was glad not to be left with the empty places in his smile, but disquieted by the way they had proceeded to do so without anything even approximating permission. When he looked at his new smile in a mirror he wouldn't have known the new teeth from the old ones if he hadn't remembered which he had lost in the first place. They had shined up his original smile to such an intense brilliance as to render the different provenances of the teeth had now invisible. With the right sort of expression on his face, he could render himself into someone looking something like a movie star.
After a certain amount of days spent healing, for his meals, they let him order what he liked. The eating was pleasant, an upgraded version of a familiar comfort.
Some authorized person came to take pictures of him. To show the distrustful districts and the curious Capitol that he had indeed been kept alive. "I don't have to get rid of the food, do I?" was his first wondering inquiry.
"No," the photographer laughed, "No, you can keep it."
So Jack swallowed one last bite and set down his sandwich and smiled for his first authorized public photo post-victory with a tray full of lunch on his lap. And the Capitol looked at their new little celebrity dependent and laughed and loved him, while the districts considered that grin at the hand that fed him and hated him or despaired.