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ohnofeelstho2018-12-08 12:59 am
realists) wrote in ohnofeelstho2018-12-08 12:59 am
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It's been over five years now since Cassian won his Games, five long years of parading around the Capitol with only nightmares and a dead family to show for it. Victor's Village in District 11 is so far from his home, his first home, but it's not like there's anything left of it worth seeing. He spends most of his days holed up in his big, stupid house, finding new ways to cook the food he once thought would never be plentiful. They haul him out of the aforementioned house for a photo op with the latest girl to join the ranks of Victor, but if he's honest, Cassian doesn't quite remember how she won. He vaguely recalls a bloody victory, without too many overall kills.
He prefers to forget watching any of the Games.
They dress him appropriately, shave his beard down to a dull shadow, sweep his hair to the side like the Capitol loves to see. He's all smiles and easy chatter with the prep team, pretending it doesn't feel like he's being escorted by armed guard towards the Hall of Justice where he just... has to wait. Being a Victor means a lot of waiting even when they can't threaten you with much anymore.
He should really try to remember what Jyn did to win, in case they try to throw a conversation about it. She's from Seven. Would it be rude to assume there was an ax involved? He finally catches his first glimpse of her across the room, light like himself but pale as though she's made of snow. He doesn't work the fields anymore, but he's still darker than her, and he's not darker than many people here.
Even from afar she looks so angry, almost grumpy, and he wonders if he should warn her. He hates every single thing about it, but at least he knows how to play this game too.
He prefers to forget watching any of the Games.
They dress him appropriately, shave his beard down to a dull shadow, sweep his hair to the side like the Capitol loves to see. He's all smiles and easy chatter with the prep team, pretending it doesn't feel like he's being escorted by armed guard towards the Hall of Justice where he just... has to wait. Being a Victor means a lot of waiting even when they can't threaten you with much anymore.
He should really try to remember what Jyn did to win, in case they try to throw a conversation about it. She's from Seven. Would it be rude to assume there was an ax involved? He finally catches his first glimpse of her across the room, light like himself but pale as though she's made of snow. He doesn't work the fields anymore, but he's still darker than her, and he's not darker than many people here.
Even from afar she looks so angry, almost grumpy, and he wonders if he should warn her. He hates every single thing about it, but at least he knows how to play this game too.
Edited 2020-06-17 06:15 (UTC)
They dressed her in red and she knows why. Every time they introduce her to a new district, they flash a picture of her as the Games ended, drenched in the blood of the District 2 tribute that lay almost in pieces at her feet, ax hanging limply in her hand. Her hair is tied back in a slick ponytail that is so tight it makes her head pound. At least they didn't make her wear the stupid Victor's crown.
Since Saw has fled and Jyn no longer has a mentor, she's being chaperoned by the mother of a former tribute. Akshaya's husband had "killed himself" (been murdered by the Peacekeepers) when their daughter died in the Games and now they've sent her away from her remaining child to look after Jyn since she is old enough to fight to the death but not to look after herself. Such is Panem. Akshaya keeps reminding Jyn to smile but she either won't or can't. The small and innocent persona they had labeled her with before the Games has vanished and in place is a girl who still feels the blood pooling in her shoes, dripping from her hair, drying under her nails.
She doesn't want to smile. She doesn't want to walk on to the stage and smile at the family of a child she had watched be murdered.
The escort -- a bouncy woman all in gold and a smile that makes Jyn want to scream -- bounces over and pries Akshaya's hand from Jyn's arm, bodily forcing herself between them so she can personally lead the newest Victor to meet District Eleven's most handsome Victor.
"Cassian! This is Seven's pride and joy, Miss Jyn! You to chat while we finish setting up the stage! Do you need a fan? Let's get them some fans! It's so hot here, I don't know how you people can stand it!" Her voice is shrill, like the foxes in heat in the forest and Jyn visibly flinches from the noise, relieved when the woman abruptly abandons them together.
She looks at the boy in front of her. Man? He isn't that much older than her. Saw had made her and Codo watch his Games as part of her training, in case they found themselves in a snow globe, and it couldn't have been more than five years prior and he was young. Jyn is 16, Codo was 18. Cassian is probably closer to Codo's age.
She looks at him, green eyes calculative, but she doesn't say anything.
Since Saw has fled and Jyn no longer has a mentor, she's being chaperoned by the mother of a former tribute. Akshaya's husband had "killed himself" (been murdered by the Peacekeepers) when their daughter died in the Games and now they've sent her away from her remaining child to look after Jyn since she is old enough to fight to the death but not to look after herself. Such is Panem. Akshaya keeps reminding Jyn to smile but she either won't or can't. The small and innocent persona they had labeled her with before the Games has vanished and in place is a girl who still feels the blood pooling in her shoes, dripping from her hair, drying under her nails.
She doesn't want to smile. She doesn't want to walk on to the stage and smile at the family of a child she had watched be murdered.
The escort -- a bouncy woman all in gold and a smile that makes Jyn want to scream -- bounces over and pries Akshaya's hand from Jyn's arm, bodily forcing herself between them so she can personally lead the newest Victor to meet District Eleven's most handsome Victor.
"Cassian! This is Seven's pride and joy, Miss Jyn! You to chat while we finish setting up the stage! Do you need a fan? Let's get them some fans! It's so hot here, I don't know how you people can stand it!" Her voice is shrill, like the foxes in heat in the forest and Jyn visibly flinches from the noise, relieved when the woman abruptly abandons them together.
She looks at the boy in front of her. Man? He isn't that much older than her. Saw had made her and Codo watch his Games as part of her training, in case they found themselves in a snow globe, and it couldn't have been more than five years prior and he was young. Jyn is 16, Codo was 18. Cassian is probably closer to Codo's age.
She looks at him, green eyes calculative, but she doesn't say anything.
He barely remembers what they dressed him in on his own Tour. Lots of pale hues to callback to the ice and snow, occasionally accentuated by pops of color that would remind him specifically of the tributes from each district he killed. Red for the career allies he slaughtered without warning. Drowning the boy from Five in the ice lake. The chunk of ice he jabbed into the neck of the girl from Six to claim his victory, his white uniform stained with her blood. His arena was the coldest place he'd ever been, but fortunately he'd been gifted with a coat and other useful items. And unfortunately, because he knew exactly why.
Cassian was barely fourteen years old when he got reaped, and nobody expected him to come home. Eleven isn't exactly bursting with winners. But he took advantage of his smaller stature compared to the tall, broad careers, smiled at all the right people, and the audience assistance helped him get through it. He just didn't know what that might mean after the fact, that his refusal to be sold like a commodity as payback for the gifts would get his family killed. He's been alone for over four years; his father was first, in a "farming accident" after he returned from his Tour, and his mother's "suicide in grief" followed two months later.
He has a cat now though.
Jyn flinches at the comment, but Cassian barely registers the disparaging remarks about Eleven anymore. They just build up instead in the checklist of reasons he hates the Capitol and anyone from there. "It is not the worst thing I have heard about my District."
Her trauma is still so utterly visible in her bristling anger, and the way they've pulled back her hair only highlights it. Is that the point? Do they want her angry? Cassian stands too still beside her, a very purposeful stance he often takes in public matters.
Cassian was barely fourteen years old when he got reaped, and nobody expected him to come home. Eleven isn't exactly bursting with winners. But he took advantage of his smaller stature compared to the tall, broad careers, smiled at all the right people, and the audience assistance helped him get through it. He just didn't know what that might mean after the fact, that his refusal to be sold like a commodity as payback for the gifts would get his family killed. He's been alone for over four years; his father was first, in a "farming accident" after he returned from his Tour, and his mother's "suicide in grief" followed two months later.
He has a cat now though.
Jyn flinches at the comment, but Cassian barely registers the disparaging remarks about Eleven anymore. They just build up instead in the checklist of reasons he hates the Capitol and anyone from there. "It is not the worst thing I have heard about my District."
Her trauma is still so utterly visible in her bristling anger, and the way they've pulled back her hair only highlights it. Is that the point? Do they want her angry? Cassian stands too still beside her, a very purposeful stance he often takes in public matters.
She'd much preferred when she was dressed like a tree.
She flinches again when Cassian speaks, seeming almost startled. She shouldn't be, the past Victors she had met had mostly all been kind. The very handsome boy in Four who smelled like salt air had braided a strand of rope through her hair while they waited and the braid crown had been much less uncomfortable. Maybe...
Her hands lift to drag her hair free from the elastic while the Capital escort is distracted, shaking it down around her shoulders, a waterfall of dark hair. It's choppier than it looked pulled back, as if the ponytail itself had been trimmed for perfect neatness once it had been tied up.
"She's too loud." Jyn's own voice is low and quiet, almost raspy. Like she wakes up screaming every night from dreams of drowning in blood and her voice suffers as a result. "They're all too loud."
She flinches again when Cassian speaks, seeming almost startled. She shouldn't be, the past Victors she had met had mostly all been kind. The very handsome boy in Four who smelled like salt air had braided a strand of rope through her hair while they waited and the braid crown had been much less uncomfortable. Maybe...
Her hands lift to drag her hair free from the elastic while the Capital escort is distracted, shaking it down around her shoulders, a waterfall of dark hair. It's choppier than it looked pulled back, as if the ponytail itself had been trimmed for perfect neatness once it had been tied up.
"She's too loud." Jyn's own voice is low and quiet, almost raspy. Like she wakes up screaming every night from dreams of drowning in blood and her voice suffers as a result. "They're all too loud."
He doesn't apologize for startling her, he doesn't think she'd care or accept it. Besides, she's probably skittish. Everyone is, forever really, but especially so in those first few months. It would be so much easier if any of them could actually... talk to one another, but Cassian supposes that's part of the point to it all. There can't be glory in being a Victor if they're all moping together.
He watches her hair fall from the ponytail, allows himself a moment to picture her stylist's frustration.
"They are always loud," he offers, just as quietly, though out of alertness to eavesdroppers more than a rasp. He recognizes that. They all recognize that. Jyn will come to hear it in the other Victors too, but he supposes now isn't the time to talk about it. He never knows what they're supposed to talk about in these moments to begin with, since the Capitol hates its Victors talking.
"You will learn to tune them out, to an extent."
He watches her hair fall from the ponytail, allows himself a moment to picture her stylist's frustration.
"They are always loud," he offers, just as quietly, though out of alertness to eavesdroppers more than a rasp. He recognizes that. They all recognize that. Jyn will come to hear it in the other Victors too, but he supposes now isn't the time to talk about it. He never knows what they're supposed to talk about in these moments to begin with, since the Capitol hates its Victors talking.
"You will learn to tune them out, to an extent."
Or Jyn could rip out her throat. Also an option. One she thinks about daily.
They won't let her have an ax anymore, as if she's meant to put down her District's entire livelihood now that has has risen above them on the backs of 23 children's corpses. She still chops wood, of course, piles and piles of wood that she drops off at homes around her District, but they wouldn't let her bring it with her on tour and she can't help but think it maybe has something to do with her mode of victory and her personal bone to pick with the Capital.
She can't tune out the dramatic wails of despair when the woman -- Jyn knows her name is Hadriana, she simply refuses to humanize the gold creature -- sees Jyn's hair is no longer pulled back and shrieks for Albina to come correct this horrid oversight! Jyn looks at Cassian with raised eyebrows.
Has he learned to tune that out?
They won't let her have an ax anymore, as if she's meant to put down her District's entire livelihood now that has has risen above them on the backs of 23 children's corpses. She still chops wood, of course, piles and piles of wood that she drops off at homes around her District, but they wouldn't let her bring it with her on tour and she can't help but think it maybe has something to do with her mode of victory and her personal bone to pick with the Capital.
She can't tune out the dramatic wails of despair when the woman -- Jyn knows her name is Hadriana, she simply refuses to humanize the gold creature -- sees Jyn's hair is no longer pulled back and shrieks for Albina to come correct this horrid oversight! Jyn looks at Cassian with raised eyebrows.
Has he learned to tune that out?
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.
"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.
Edited 2020-06-18 04:46 (UTC)
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.
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."
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.
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."
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."
"You wouldn't be friends with me anyway."
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.
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.
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.
(Only the Capitol can do that.)
"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.)
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.
"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."
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 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.
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.
They don't tell you how hard the first Games hit after your own.
Maybe they did and Jyn didn't listen. That is probably more accurate a picture of events. Maybe she would remember if this Games wasn't also shrouded in a fog of grief because Jyn was foolish and stopped a Peacekeeper from hurting someone in public, violently -- Hadder and Akshaya's "accident" was not incredibly subtle and now Jyn is to blame for an entire family being eradicated.
Can't kill the Victor, after all.
Two young Tributes depending on her now has driven her to drink in her off time, like maybe it will dull the screaming grief in her head. She understands now why Saw was often nursing a hangover, medicating it with more lum. She pours herself another glass and throws herself onto the couch next to where Cassian is seated, watching some video on the news. Shining Capitol news where nothing is ever wrong. Her drink sloshes around in her glass from the momentum of her ungraceful descent onto the couch.
She's seen him, of course, since they've all arrived at this Tribute enclave, but she has mostly managed to avoid him by letting Chirrut and Baze and Lando steal her attention. She hasn't avoided him enough to notice (again) how handsome he is, especially when he isn't all dolled up for the cameras, but that is neither here now there.
"Do you still hate me?"
Maybe they did and Jyn didn't listen. That is probably more accurate a picture of events. Maybe she would remember if this Games wasn't also shrouded in a fog of grief because Jyn was foolish and stopped a Peacekeeper from hurting someone in public, violently -- Hadder and Akshaya's "accident" was not incredibly subtle and now Jyn is to blame for an entire family being eradicated.
Can't kill the Victor, after all.
Two young Tributes depending on her now has driven her to drink in her off time, like maybe it will dull the screaming grief in her head. She understands now why Saw was often nursing a hangover, medicating it with more lum. She pours herself another glass and throws herself onto the couch next to where Cassian is seated, watching some video on the news. Shining Capitol news where nothing is ever wrong. Her drink sloshes around in her glass from the momentum of her ungraceful descent onto the couch.
She's seen him, of course, since they've all arrived at this Tribute enclave, but she has mostly managed to avoid him by letting Chirrut and Baze and Lando steal her attention. She hasn't avoided him enough to notice (again) how handsome he is, especially when he isn't all dolled up for the cameras, but that is neither here now there.
"Do you still hate me?"
His tributes are already dead. The first one didn't make it past the bloodbath, the second lost her life today. He's already nursing his own drink by the time Jyn comes over, and he hadn't missed her approach; hyper-vigilance is his constant existence.
A small part he does not take for granted is even though their stylists attack them daily in the Capitol, they're not meant to be flashy, they're not meant to take attention away from the current Tributes. It means there's only small splashes of gel to keep his hair artfully in place.
He's heard rumors of what happened to her family in Seven, but it's always just rumors, and it's always dangerous to talk about. He doesn't answer her at first, taking another sip of his drink while he just watches her flopped over on the couch.
"No."
He never hated her, not really. He's angry all the time and it had cut right through him to hear about her father, but it's not like she personally put him through the experience. He doesn't hate her, specifically, but their very brief encounter back in his District had still been charged.
A small part he does not take for granted is even though their stylists attack them daily in the Capitol, they're not meant to be flashy, they're not meant to take attention away from the current Tributes. It means there's only small splashes of gel to keep his hair artfully in place.
He's heard rumors of what happened to her family in Seven, but it's always just rumors, and it's always dangerous to talk about. He doesn't answer her at first, taking another sip of his drink while he just watches her flopped over on the couch.
"No."
He never hated her, not really. He's angry all the time and it had cut right through him to hear about her father, but it's not like she personally put him through the experience. He doesn't hate her, specifically, but their very brief encounter back in his District had still been charged.
"Oh."
It's a surprised noise, soft and small. She hates herself, it wouldn't surprise her to know Cassian did as well still. The surprise is that he doesn't. How is she meant to direct her grief if not in self-righteous anger to defend herself from a slight she thinks she actually deserves?
She deflates some, confusion pulling down her shoulders.
The news flashes again with the day's dead and Jyn frowns at the solemn face of Cassian's young girl. She was 15, the same age Jyn had been when she stepped into the arena. Her own tributes are both older than her and both still alive, for now. She doesn't want to get her hopes up but the tiny ember in her chest hasn't gone out yet. Maybe that will make it hurt all the more, maybe that is why she is trying to drown it in drink.
"I'm sorry about Lily." Neither Rowan nor Ash had done it, but the words come out anyway. Helpless. She gulps down half of her drink to avoid saying anything else.
It's a surprised noise, soft and small. She hates herself, it wouldn't surprise her to know Cassian did as well still. The surprise is that he doesn't. How is she meant to direct her grief if not in self-righteous anger to defend herself from a slight she thinks she actually deserves?
She deflates some, confusion pulling down her shoulders.
The news flashes again with the day's dead and Jyn frowns at the solemn face of Cassian's young girl. She was 15, the same age Jyn had been when she stepped into the arena. Her own tributes are both older than her and both still alive, for now. She doesn't want to get her hopes up but the tiny ember in her chest hasn't gone out yet. Maybe that will make it hurt all the more, maybe that is why she is trying to drown it in drink.
"I'm sorry about Lily." Neither Rowan nor Ash had done it, but the words come out anyway. Helpless. She gulps down half of her drink to avoid saying anything else.
It's hard not to assume everyone hates you. Cassian was pressed for a while after their first meeting, couldn't stop thinking about her in relation to her father, in relation to the Games. But his bitterness moves in shifts.
Right now he doesn't feel much of anything, because he's trying to smother it after Lily's death.
"There is nothing to be done about it."
He'd tried and failed, the same story since he won. None of the families ever blame him for not bringing their children home, but it doesn't stop the guilt. He thought Lily might have had a shot. So much for that.
"Maybe Seven will be lucky again this year."
Right now he doesn't feel much of anything, because he's trying to smother it after Lily's death.
"There is nothing to be done about it."
He'd tried and failed, the same story since he won. None of the families ever blame him for not bringing their children home, but it doesn't stop the guilt. He thought Lily might have had a shot. So much for that.
"Maybe Seven will be lucky again this year."
"Doubt it. Ash's already given up and Rowan isn't pretty enough for sponsors to give a shit about her."
Jyn thought Rowan was beautiful with her auburn hair and bright blue eyes but she is short and squat and no amount of polish could erase the scar across her cheek. Rowan had scored average, a six, she didn't stand out. She was dressed like a tree. The Capitol is full of assholes, no one is willing to throw their support in for a girl who could french braid faster than anyone Jyn has ever met, but didn't have something about her they could exploit.
Victor. It's laughable, this is as much torture as the Games were. Jyn has to hand it to the Capitol, this is unparalleled.
She gulps down the rest of her drink and sets the glass on the table with too much force, sending it skittering across the polished cocobolo wood and right over the side, the glass shattering with a musical tinkle. Jyn swears under her breath and pushes up quickly from the couch so she can beat the Avox girl to the punch in cleaning it up. She waves her off. "I've got it."
Jyn thought Rowan was beautiful with her auburn hair and bright blue eyes but she is short and squat and no amount of polish could erase the scar across her cheek. Rowan had scored average, a six, she didn't stand out. She was dressed like a tree. The Capitol is full of assholes, no one is willing to throw their support in for a girl who could french braid faster than anyone Jyn has ever met, but didn't have something about her they could exploit.
Victor. It's laughable, this is as much torture as the Games were. Jyn has to hand it to the Capitol, this is unparalleled.
She gulps down the rest of her drink and sets the glass on the table with too much force, sending it skittering across the polished cocobolo wood and right over the side, the glass shattering with a musical tinkle. Jyn swears under her breath and pushes up quickly from the couch so she can beat the Avox girl to the punch in cleaning it up. She waves her off. "I've got it."
Very rarely to the sponsors give a shit about the poorer Districts. The year before Jyn, the boy from 12 won, mostly by happenstance, and it was a bit of a shock. It had led to some of them daring to invest in 11 and 12, but then Jyn won, so this year seems like it's back to normal.
"You will have more clout this year than you will next year."
They love to hype up the previous year's victor, making comparisons, wondering if the new tributes will compare. It's the same speech every time at its core. There's no real victory in being a Victor except being alive, and sometimes Cassian wonders if even that is worth it.
Jyn, however, is already very drunk, and Cassian is not surprised. The only thing he wonders is if this is her first time heavily imbibed or if she'd already fallen under in the months prior. The Avox hovers but leaves them to it.
"Watch your hand." Is she sober enough not to slice open her fingers?? Maybe he should ask the Avox to intervene, but Cassian hates asking them for anything.
"You will have more clout this year than you will next year."
They love to hype up the previous year's victor, making comparisons, wondering if the new tributes will compare. It's the same speech every time at its core. There's no real victory in being a Victor except being alive, and sometimes Cassian wonders if even that is worth it.
Jyn, however, is already very drunk, and Cassian is not surprised. The only thing he wonders is if this is her first time heavily imbibed or if she'd already fallen under in the months prior. The Avox hovers but leaves them to it.
"Watch your hand." Is she sober enough not to slice open her fingers?? Maybe he should ask the Avox to intervene, but Cassian hates asking them for anything.
If this is the clout she has.. she sighs, picking at the glass shards. Tomorrow she will try again to secure Rowan her sponsors. Maybe she can buy some sponsors. Not with her charm but she knows what the Capitol wants...
She forces the thought from her mind for now. She will reassess in the morning. Instead she turns her attention to Cassian so she can snippily pronounce:
"I won the Games, remember? A piece of glass- fuck."
Hubris. She has been absolutely wrecked by karma, blood pooling in her palm from the slice at the very bottom of her finger.
She forces the thought from her mind for now. She will reassess in the morning. Instead she turns her attention to Cassian so she can snippily pronounce:
"I won the Games, remember? A piece of glass- fuck."
Hubris. She has been absolutely wrecked by karma, blood pooling in her palm from the slice at the very bottom of her finger.
He didn't say it was the most useful clout, but it's still existing clout. It may not mean too much either if they've all already chosen their favorites.
Distracted, she cuts open her hand just as she proclaims she won't, and Cassian moves instantly, taking a napkin from the table with him and pressing it against her hand. It's hardly the bloodiest she's ever been, not even the worst he personally has drawn, but Cassian has seen enough of it for today.
"Okay, no more." He looks up to the avox, apologetically. "Can you get me some bandages, please?"
While she scurries off, Cassian drops to his knees beside Jyn. He lowers his voice, low enough for hopefully only Jyn to hear and no secret microphones. "I don't like to make them do things either, but we do not have the means to pick up all the shards."
Distracted, she cuts open her hand just as she proclaims she won't, and Cassian moves instantly, taking a napkin from the table with him and pressing it against her hand. It's hardly the bloodiest she's ever been, not even the worst he personally has drawn, but Cassian has seen enough of it for today.
"Okay, no more." He looks up to the avox, apologetically. "Can you get me some bandages, please?"
While she scurries off, Cassian drops to his knees beside Jyn. He lowers his voice, low enough for hopefully only Jyn to hear and no secret microphones. "I don't like to make them do things either, but we do not have the means to pick up all the shards."
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