He didn't learn to tune that out so much as... redirect. If he can give his team a subtle nudge, make it think it was their own plan. Sometimes it works, sometimes the Capitol or the stylists have their own plan too locked in. He wishes very much they could talk about this freely.
"Albina," he says with the utmost sweetness when she flies over to them in a panic, the tone remarkably different from how he'd spoken to Jyn seconds ago. "Don't you think her hair would look nice swept to the side? Here." He gestures on his own forehead rather than reaching into Jyn's space, touching to the far right near his temple, the opposite of his own side part.
She tuts. "I hope you didn't pull her hair out, Cassian Andor. I worked hard on that ponytail!"
Pulled plenty hard, he's sure. He's all smiles, the kind that don't quite reach his eyes. Before he can reply his own stylist swoops in, like she needs to double check he hasn't ruined anything on himself either upon hearing the commotion. She chides him under her breath, tugging and readjusting the artful swoop of his hair. When she steps back, it doesn't look the least bit different, already pressed and sprayed and gelled into the chosen style of the day. He's not even sure he'll be able to wash all of it out after one shower.
Jyn stands still well enough. She's about as personable as a cardboard box but she has been told often enough lately that she is beautiful -- "Oh Jyn, people pay to have eyes like yours in the Capital!" -- and she's heard Albina worry that her reticence wasn't playing very well.
But at least she was pretty.
The stylist sweeps her hair to the side, pins hidden here and there to keep it in place, murmuring affirmations to Jyn. Jyn may hate the golden escort, but she doesn't mind Albina. She was there before the Games, she made sure Jyn kept her mother's necklace in the arena as her tribute token, despite it having nothing to do with their District. She pokes and prods at Jyn, much quieter than the other Capital people, reminding Jyn that she looked fierce and powerful with her ponytail. Like a Victor.
Eventually she draws back, looking at Jyn with her lavender eyes. She glances at Cassian, back at Jyn and swoops her hair just so before she nods, satisfied with her work and steps back. "There, you two match!"
It's a softer version of Cassian's clean waves, very classically romantic, which Jyn doesn't notice since she can't see her own hair. She does notice, however, that her dress is complemented by his velvety green suit and wonders if it had been planned that way. Had the other Victors worn green? No, just the boy from Four but his was more of a blueish green.
"Will it be much longer?"
Albina shrugs helplessly, unsure. "I don't know, but you two can make friends while we wait!" She pats Jyn's good shoulder and flutters off to... do something. Jyn doesn't know what they do when they're not trying to make her look presentable.
Cassian has not had a real friend is as many years as he's been a Victor, no matter how many times they shove him off and tell him to make nice. It's hard to make a friend, when that person is going to be whisked away too soon, when you're barely allowed to interact with the people who would understand you outside those in your own District. And if those numbers are small? Tough shit.
Sabina gives one last tug on Cassian's jacket. "A few more minutes," she says, which isn't very helpful, because in all these years of being with Sabina, 'a few more minutes' has become something of a catchphrase, a sign she either doesn't know or isn't going to answer. Her hair changes every time he sees her, different colors and lengths, like her head exists only in experimentation. It's blue today.
He looks back over at Jyn. He supposes they match, in a distant way. Really he was just hoping to make her head a little more comfortable instead of the razor tight ponytail.
"I have figured out Sabina's general preferences for my style," he says after a few long, quiet moments. His tone is back to what it was before, no airy charm. "It is easier to give comfortable suggestions if they lean into what is already being considered."
It would be smart to listen to him, to take advice from the Victors that had come before her, but what is the point? Her father had left, Saw had left, all the tributes he had mentored before Jyn had died and left her too. If word got out who her father was... None of the other Victors would care about her anyway so what was the point in trying?
Lando would flirt with a geriatric if eyes were on him, braiding her hair meant nothing in the long run. Not if they discovered her father had abandoned her to be a Gamemaker.
She makes a noise of acknowledgement, that she heard him, but doesn't say anything else. Albina was probably right to be concerned about Jyn's unsociable personality.
He remembers his Tour, torn between desperately wanting to speak to the other Victors and just wanting to be left alone, not wanting any more reminders as though he wasn't surrounded by the Games from start to finish. There are a lot of things he wishes he had warnings about but knows it impossible. He is not surprised by Jyn's silence, and he's not interested in making her chit chat.
How do Victors chit chat? Even the ones with more years on the circuit than him don't seem to have that answer.
The hush falls over them again, save for the dull murmurs of a waiting crowd, the fluttering voices of gossiping teams prepping the perfect photo op. He's lost count of how often his picture has been taken over the years; it's point and click at this point, a flash of a smile in the Capitol's preference while he imagines smashing the photographer's fingers with the camera. It makes his skin crawl thinking about how many people might have his photo in their house. But it's still preferable to the alternative of physically being in the house.
"I am not very good at making friends. It might just be better to pretend."
She decides this for him, beyond decisive. It is a fact. No room for subjectivity, only facts, and the fact is no Victor would be friends with Jyn. At least not any Victor in the past eight years.
He looks over at her, much more carefully. Beneath the makeup caked on her face is exhaustion and nightmares, fresh from the slaughter but permanently settling in like it does on the rest of them. Unlike the Capitol citizens with their absurd, dramatic ones, Victor tattoos are just scars.
"Two minutes is hardly enough time to make that call."
There's a finality in her statement he doesn't want to argue with either, but it's not entirely her call to begin with. Again, not that Cassian has any friends lately, but she can't decide what he does or doesn't want.
Jyn steps forward, into his space. Her chin has to tip up to look at him. Hadriana calls for them that the event is starting, a flutter of activity that Jyn ignores.
"My father is a Gamemaker."
She turns on her heel and stalks away as Albina claps her hands happily. There is the beautiful, powerful Victor she is trying to show the world. Jyn doesn't know if her father is as hands on as she imagines or if he specifically designed Cassian's or even if he designed her own hellscape. But it doesn't matter. Her father Capital and the worst sort -- the kind that makes games to slaughter children.
Better to destroy any illusion that Jyn might ever have a friend in any of these Victors or tributes or anyone at all.
His head whips around so fast at her admission, and it takes all the self control he has to keep his face from fluttering with shock, with anger, when they're about to go get their fucking pictures taken.
Her father is a Gamemaker. How does that even happen? Aren't they all from the Capitol? He doesn't have a lot of time to digest this properly.
Cassian catches Sabina's eye, and she gives him a Look, confused and stern, gesturing for him to follow suit. He knows the drill. Once the crowd stops cheering, he's supposed to slip out after her. He takes a deep breath and swallows up the fury in his chest, pasting on a dull if not bright smile as he follows Jyn out. He waves, but it isn't a surprise that the excitement is felt more strongly from all the prep teams and stylists and organizers than it is from the hot, sweaty, tired crowd forced to attend the spectacle.
Everything is a spectacle. Her father is part of designing the spectacle.
An assistant grabs Cassian's arm, moving him appropriately until he's standing again beside Jyn, though she's the one centered in front of the Hall. She's the newest Victor, she's the star. Cassian's just here because he is popular and the Capitol likes to use him to show the outer Districts that anyone can reach his success too. That no one is safe.
The flash goes off, and then he turns to face Jyn, the smile still on his face even if his eyes are alight with the fury of the Games.
He holds out his hand. Another flash. "Congratulations."
His eyes are beautiful when he is furious, Jyn notes, taking his warm, sure hand with her own cold fingers. Incandescent. That is the word for him. Passionately enraged beneath a dispassionate mask.
She doesn't say thank you, she can't despite knowing it is expected of her. Instead her head jerks in a nod, some feeble approximation of a smile struggling to stay on her own expression. She invited his fury so she doesn't bother to look away or shield herself from it, studying her sabotage up close.
Hadriana sets off on a long winded speech Jyn has heard ten times so far about how even those from humble backgrounds can become great. How Jyn came from nothing, orphaned at the age of eight, left to be raised under the tutelage of a disgraced Victor who hadn't a worthwhile Tribute since his own victory -- Jyn's fingers tighten automatically before she drops Cassian's hand all together, irritated again that Hadriana speaks of these slaughtered children the way she does -- and finally sent into the Games herself, to find victory!
She's of half a mind to snatch the microphone and tell the truth, that she hasn't been orphaned at all, her father is in the Capital designing these Games and Jyn was left as a constant threat after her mother was slaughtered right in front of them both. Akshaya and Albina's presence stops her. She doesn't want them caught up in any mess she makes. She'll have to do it on her own time.
Eventually Hadriana winds down and gestures Jyn to the microphone. She knows she is supposed to say that the District's tributes fought bravely and other dumb, meaningless shit that won't bring any solace to the families sitting on the small stage erected for them so that the entire square can witness their grief.
Instead, Jyn steps up to the center of the stage. She licks her lips, looking out at the grieving district, and murmurs, "I'm sorry," before she turns and walks off the stage.
She doesn't smile, doesn't say thank you, and Cassian can't even blame her. Bitterness is a common trait in victory, and Jyn has barely scratched the surface of hers. The camera goes off a few more times in their handshake, continues flashing as Jyn stands there to be celebrated.
He remembers bits and pieces of his own speech; they rarely change between Districts, unless switching up a line or two will appeal more to a specific audience.
Perhaps the worst part of this is that he knows one of the families standing there on the special podium, their grief just another show for the Capitol. It infuriates him year after year, it hammers away at the guilt that threatens to bury him whenever he comes home without any children. The Games destroy move lives as a whole than they physically take, and Jyn's father creates them. The thought infuriates him, but everything about the Games does.
When Jyn says nothing but her apology instead, her team and his both look scandalized, and before he can think about it, Cassian steps up to the microphone in her stead. "Do you want to know a secret?" He pauses, for the benefit of the Capitol audience. "All the excitement is exhausting, I can hardly blame Jyn for being so tired. But there is still so much to celebrate here in our great District."
The mood shifts, at least where it's supposed to. He's never talking to his own District when he chats away so cheerfully.
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ohnofeelstho2018-12-08 12:59 am
no subject
"Albina," he says with the utmost sweetness when she flies over to them in a panic, the tone remarkably different from how he'd spoken to Jyn seconds ago. "Don't you think her hair would look nice swept to the side? Here." He gestures on his own forehead rather than reaching into Jyn's space, touching to the far right near his temple, the opposite of his own side part.
She tuts. "I hope you didn't pull her hair out, Cassian Andor. I worked hard on that ponytail!"
Pulled plenty hard, he's sure. He's all smiles, the kind that don't quite reach his eyes. Before he can reply his own stylist swoops in, like she needs to double check he hasn't ruined anything on himself either upon hearing the commotion. She chides him under her breath, tugging and readjusting the artful swoop of his hair. When she steps back, it doesn't look the least bit different, already pressed and sprayed and gelled into the chosen style of the day. He's not even sure he'll be able to wash all of it out after one shower.
no subject
But at least she was pretty.
The stylist sweeps her hair to the side, pins hidden here and there to keep it in place, murmuring affirmations to Jyn. Jyn may hate the golden escort, but she doesn't mind Albina. She was there before the Games, she made sure Jyn kept her mother's necklace in the arena as her tribute token, despite it having nothing to do with their District. She pokes and prods at Jyn, much quieter than the other Capital people, reminding Jyn that she looked fierce and powerful with her ponytail. Like a Victor.
Eventually she draws back, looking at Jyn with her lavender eyes. She glances at Cassian, back at Jyn and swoops her hair just so before she nods, satisfied with her work and steps back. "There, you two match!"
It's a softer version of Cassian's clean waves, very classically romantic, which Jyn doesn't notice since she can't see her own hair. She does notice, however, that her dress is complemented by his velvety green suit and wonders if it had been planned that way. Had the other Victors worn green? No, just the boy from Four but his was more of a blueish green.
"Will it be much longer?"
Albina shrugs helplessly, unsure. "I don't know, but you two can make friends while we wait!" She pats Jyn's good shoulder and flutters off to... do something. Jyn doesn't know what they do when they're not trying to make her look presentable.
no subject
Sabina gives one last tug on Cassian's jacket. "A few more minutes," she says, which isn't very helpful, because in all these years of being with Sabina, 'a few more minutes' has become something of a catchphrase, a sign she either doesn't know or isn't going to answer. Her hair changes every time he sees her, different colors and lengths, like her head exists only in experimentation. It's blue today.
He looks back over at Jyn. He supposes they match, in a distant way. Really he was just hoping to make her head a little more comfortable instead of the razor tight ponytail.
"I have figured out Sabina's general preferences for my style," he says after a few long, quiet moments. His tone is back to what it was before, no airy charm. "It is easier to give comfortable suggestions if they lean into what is already being considered."
no subject
Lando would flirt with a geriatric if eyes were on him, braiding her hair meant nothing in the long run. Not if they discovered her father had abandoned her to be a Gamemaker.
She makes a noise of acknowledgement, that she heard him, but doesn't say anything else. Albina was probably right to be concerned about Jyn's unsociable personality.
no subject
How do Victors chit chat? Even the ones with more years on the circuit than him don't seem to have that answer.
The hush falls over them again, save for the dull murmurs of a waiting crowd, the fluttering voices of gossiping teams prepping the perfect photo op. He's lost count of how often his picture has been taken over the years; it's point and click at this point, a flash of a smile in the Capitol's preference while he imagines smashing the photographer's fingers with the camera. It makes his skin crawl thinking about how many people might have his photo in their house. But it's still preferable to the alternative of physically being in the house.
"I am not very good at making friends. It might just be better to pretend."
no subject
She decides this for him, beyond decisive. It is a fact. No room for subjectivity, only facts, and the fact is no Victor would be friends with Jyn. At least not any Victor in the past eight years.
She doesn't need friends anyway.
no subject
"Two minutes is hardly enough time to make that call."
There's a finality in her statement he doesn't want to argue with either, but it's not entirely her call to begin with. Again, not that Cassian has any friends lately, but she can't decide what he does or doesn't want.
(Only the Capitol can do that.)
no subject
"My father is a Gamemaker."
She turns on her heel and stalks away as Albina claps her hands happily. There is the beautiful, powerful Victor she is trying to show the world. Jyn doesn't know if her father is as hands on as she imagines or if he specifically designed Cassian's or even if he designed her own hellscape. But it doesn't matter. Her father Capital and the worst sort -- the kind that makes games to slaughter children.
Better to destroy any illusion that Jyn might ever have a friend in any of these Victors or tributes or anyone at all.
no subject
Her father is a Gamemaker. How does that even happen? Aren't they all from the Capitol? He doesn't have a lot of time to digest this properly.
Cassian catches Sabina's eye, and she gives him a Look, confused and stern, gesturing for him to follow suit. He knows the drill. Once the crowd stops cheering, he's supposed to slip out after her. He takes a deep breath and swallows up the fury in his chest, pasting on a dull if not bright smile as he follows Jyn out. He waves, but it isn't a surprise that the excitement is felt more strongly from all the prep teams and stylists and organizers than it is from the hot, sweaty, tired crowd forced to attend the spectacle.
Everything is a spectacle. Her father is part of designing the spectacle.
An assistant grabs Cassian's arm, moving him appropriately until he's standing again beside Jyn, though she's the one centered in front of the Hall. She's the newest Victor, she's the star. Cassian's just here because he is popular and the Capitol likes to use him to show the outer Districts that anyone can reach his success too. That no one is safe.
The flash goes off, and then he turns to face Jyn, the smile still on his face even if his eyes are alight with the fury of the Games.
He holds out his hand. Another flash. "Congratulations."
no subject
She doesn't say thank you, she can't despite knowing it is expected of her. Instead her head jerks in a nod, some feeble approximation of a smile struggling to stay on her own expression. She invited his fury so she doesn't bother to look away or shield herself from it, studying her sabotage up close.
Hadriana sets off on a long winded speech Jyn has heard ten times so far about how even those from humble backgrounds can become great. How Jyn came from nothing, orphaned at the age of eight, left to be raised under the tutelage of a disgraced Victor who hadn't a worthwhile Tribute since his own victory -- Jyn's fingers tighten automatically before she drops Cassian's hand all together, irritated again that Hadriana speaks of these slaughtered children the way she does -- and finally sent into the Games herself, to find victory!
She's of half a mind to snatch the microphone and tell the truth, that she hasn't been orphaned at all, her father is in the Capital designing these Games and Jyn was left as a constant threat after her mother was slaughtered right in front of them both. Akshaya and Albina's presence stops her. She doesn't want them caught up in any mess she makes. She'll have to do it on her own time.
Eventually Hadriana winds down and gestures Jyn to the microphone. She knows she is supposed to say that the District's tributes fought bravely and other dumb, meaningless shit that won't bring any solace to the families sitting on the small stage erected for them so that the entire square can witness their grief.
Instead, Jyn steps up to the center of the stage. She licks her lips, looking out at the grieving district, and murmurs, "I'm sorry," before she turns and walks off the stage.
no subject
He remembers bits and pieces of his own speech; they rarely change between Districts, unless switching up a line or two will appeal more to a specific audience.
Perhaps the worst part of this is that he knows one of the families standing there on the special podium, their grief just another show for the Capitol. It infuriates him year after year, it hammers away at the guilt that threatens to bury him whenever he comes home without any children. The Games destroy move lives as a whole than they physically take, and Jyn's father creates them. The thought infuriates him, but everything about the Games does.
When Jyn says nothing but her apology instead, her team and his both look scandalized, and before he can think about it, Cassian steps up to the microphone in her stead. "Do you want to know a secret?" He pauses, for the benefit of the Capitol audience. "All the excitement is exhausting, I can hardly blame Jyn for being so tired. But there is still so much to celebrate here in our great District."
The mood shifts, at least where it's supposed to. He's never talking to his own District when he chats away so cheerfully.