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
"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.