Her eyelashes feel heavy, despite the fact they look so pretty, and that makes no sense to her at all. "Yes," she says. "My sister."
Caesar Flickerman almost looks concerned. It's an act, of course, but it somehow heartens her. She can tell the audience is bored after listening to forty odd sisters and brothers and lovers, and she might just understand what Haymitch said about not missing Twelve, because she does and she doesn't. She hates it ardently, now, and still misses it just as much.
She curls her fingers loosely, feeling the lacquered paint of her nails (bloodred, the obvious choice) against her skin, and looks directly at the camera, at her minature reflection.
Dark lashes. Thick curls. Shiny lips. This isn't her. It's a glorified version of a girl who actually isn't gorgeous, and she's suddenly scared, because what if it's permanent?
"She's watching. Anything you would say to her?"
She hesitates.
"I…I'm not coming home."
The buzzer goes off, perfectly.
Epic is brought in through the idea that the death tributes receive in the Hunger Games is easier to remember than "starving in District Twelve". The romance is easy to feel in the scenes we don't really see in the books; it's developed at just the right rate. A few conversations especially show this:
Later, her fingers are on the golden door handle when he asks her, "Do you really think you're going to die?" Haymitch loosens his tie and looks at her as oddly intensely as he did on the train.
What do you want from me? she feels like saying. Instead, she leans back against the door. "Well, my odds are roughly the same, aren't they?"
He laughs, mostly real and slightly acidic, and it kind of makes him seem more human in her eyes. She repeats his question, and he looks away. It's a ridiculous thing to ask, and she doesn't blame him for not answering.
"If it makes you feel any better," she adds, "I think you could win."
He doesn't repeat the words back to her.
"Won't you miss it?" she asks at last, annoyed, as she smears saltwater off her eyelashes. Her fingers are wet with homesickness.
"Honestly?" Haymitch Abernathy looks at her intently, almost searchingly. And then drops his gaze, disappointed. "No, I won't."
A tragic love-story, and a great addition to the Hunger Games world we all love--yellow brick roads placed second in the March challenge.
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Now onto inception. This isn't a minor pairing fic, but I feel it still falls in the "undiscovered gem" category. It was also written for a Starvation prompt, but this time for December 2011: "the 2nd Annual Hunger Games". This fic has a very interesting style: half-story, and half from the records of Panem. It also brings up an interesting idea of just how successful (or not) the early years of Hunger Games were. This is an excerpt close to the beginning of the fic, from the "official records of Panem":
Faced with the inevitability of their own death, the tributes (as they posthumously became known) simply sat around the Cornucopia until they died. None of them attempted to eat the food or take up a weapon against each other.
By the fourth day, only two tributes remained – both fell unconscious at some point in the night, and died too closely together for retrieval to be possible. As a result, there was no Victor that year.
The families of the tributes were brutally executed less than a week later.
There are several takes on the early days of Games, but this is unique in the fact that it seems planned, but it almost doesn't look meant to incite rebellion: it's a peaceful protest. While this happens during the very first Games, the fic continues on to the second year, which explains "why District Twelve never wins". Before the second Games, the female tribute from District Twelve (Iris) speaks with the original President Snow (after he says that these Games shall not be a repeat of the previous year's):
Snow: Well, Miss Weir? What is it you wanted to ask me.
Iris: I know you said that you'd kill the families of the kids – sorry, tributes – that don't cooperate. But for the little kids like Andy – I mean, Andrew Hale – you can't expect them to be able to stand up to older kids.
Snow: (sharply) Like yourself, Miss Weir?
Iris: ... Yes, like myself, sir. If the younger kids were k- ... killed by one of the older ones, that would count as them cooperating, would it not? That would be horrifying, a young child being mercilessly killed by an older one, wouldn't it.
Snow: (mildly) It is not your place to dictate to me, Miss Weir.
Iris: Of course not, sir. I would never presume... I'm just asking a question.
Snow: What you're proposing isn't really what I had in mind... But if you're prepared to do so, I see no reason why that would be unacceptable.
Iris: Thank you-
I wouldn't want to give it all away for you, but, based on Iris's later actions, you see why District Twelve ended up with so few victors.
An interesting idea, a unique execution--inception placed first in the December challenge.
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Hopefully you enjoyed, and I'll see you next week!
