ohnofeelstho | may the odds be ever in your favor

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.

Edited 2020-06-17 06:15 (UTC)

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?"

Cassian's first trip to the Capitol was seven years ago for the 58th Hunger Games, and he has come back every year since. It becomes a dull sort of agony, but it's just as exhausting every time. The fanfare, the excitement, the absolute disgust in his eyes that goes unnoticed because of his smile. He was lucky. He was ruthless. He was the first winner for his District in a long while, and no one has followed him since, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many hideous citizens he flirts with, no matter how many gifts he finagles them into sending. He just keeps watching his tributes die year after year, and then he spends the rest of the time trying to ignore the guilt that crushes his chest knowing he couldn't help bring those kids home. He's not an alcoholic like some of the other Victors, but it's much easier to drink away the rest of the Games when he no longer has to pay attention.

The common area is stocked full of food and drink, and even though he just watched his last tribute die, it would be rude to duck out immediately after, so he piles his plate with candies and fills his glass to the brim. Some Capitol people offer him condolences, but it's more a message of tough luck this year rather than sympathy for a dead child. He downs half of it before he even finds a chair, refilling it before he finally settles in. Some of the other Victors shoot him actual sympathetic looks, but the only other person he mildly gets along with is Kay, currently running amok with his turn to play mentor, so he's not sure he cares much talking to anyone. District Two always has options. He's lucky if he gets a whole day with Kay before they all get shipped back to their Districts.

Happy Hunger Games, he thinks bitterly, swallowing up another huge portion of his drink. He doesn't even know what it is, but at least it doesn't taste terrible. It's a little fruity, which makes him think of home, and then he's back at angry square one all over again.

He's just so fucking tired, all the time, but especially this time of year. He sits down on a couch tucked in the corner, hoping to stay out of sight until enough time passes for him to go finish drinking in his quarters.

come away little lamb come away to the slaughter.

forget your woes and let your troubles lay

i owe you nothing; that's all i've got for you.