I want to thank Lady Livia and chele20035 for their words of support and encouragement. You guys make the act of playing god even better by sharing it with me. :D
So this chapter is from Finnicks POV. I won't be doing these often, but im sure sometimes I can't help it. Please let me know If you think it's out of place in this narrative because I'm too *close* to be objective.
I stare out my train car window and watch the ocean whipping by faster and faster as the train pulls out and I scrape the last remnants of the boys blood from beneath my fingernails. I can't shake off the surreal cloud the day has left hanging over me.
Reapings are never easy but this year it was excruciating to watch play out.
First there was the girl. I was watching her in the crowd during the propaganda piece. It was amusing at first, the dreamy expression she had as she sort of danced on her tippy toes, constantly tossing the wild locks of dark hair out of her eyes to scan the boys section. She was pretty, but in an aloof sort of way; she didn't look like she tried very hard.
I'd been wondering who the lucky boy she was looking for was and I was struck by a pang of, what? Envy? Jealousy? Whatever it was, it was followed by a deep and soul crushing sadness. The world I occupy and the limitations placed on me as a victor rob me of the simple, ignorance-inducing act of any sort of love or courtship. I could never waltz up to a pretty girl like that and enjoy some little splinter of happiness, ever, not without President Snow or some Capitol Harpee swooping in to sully it.
And then Pandora called her name. The look of confusion on the girls face nearly breaks my heart. Mags grabbed my hand and squeezed it- reapings are always so hard on poor Mags.
The girl stumbled at first but composed herself, and by the time she was halfway to the stage she was upright and proud looking, but with a vacant look in her eye like she isn't there at all. I wonder if she isn't a little unstable.
That's when all hell broke loose and I see the boys she was looking for. They were breaking formation and pushing scores of boys right onto their asses, watching her as they made their way to the front. I heard Mags take a deep, wearied inhale "we have volunteers" she whispers with shades of awe and dread coloring her voice.
We expected one, or maybe even both to volunteer but nothing would have prepared us for what happened. Neither of us had ever seen one boy beat another over the head unconscious at a reaping before. It was definitely a first.
We shouldn't have stepped in and played referee between the peacekeepers and the boy who assaulted his friend. I knew it while I was doing it, but I couldn't help myself: It's one thing to watch someone volunteer as tribute for fame, or glory, money or even women. But to see someone who intends to volunteer with the absolute knowledge that he has no intention of winning really got to me. When the peacekeepers broke out the whip immediately to punish him for assaulting that other boy, I knew there was hope to help him. To stop the whole thing in its tracks.
It isn't that I want the girl to die, or even that I think she will. But even if the boy can save her, she would have to kill him or he would have to kill himself for her to win in the end. To be a Victor is bitter enough without that hanging over your head, too.
My car door opens and I don't have to look to know its Mags. She jumps on my bed to get across it faster, and drops herself down beside me. From the labour in her movement, I can see that her age is starting to really catch up with her.
"Long Day" she says. She picks up the face towel I was using to clean my nails and tosses it to the side "You did what you thought was right, Finn." She says in a reassuring tone "first time I've seen you try to do something for someone else in a long time, you know"
"There was a selfish element to it" I confess "It'd be easy if he were some ambitious fool. Sponsors eat that stuff up, but the martyr tribute? That would suck Mags. I don't need the stress, and you don't need the heartache."
"they would have eaten that up, too" she says "up in the Capitol"
"I know" I roll my eyes. I hate that we're on the train, that we can't speak freely. Every room is bugged, just like the rooms in the justice building snd our houses in the Victors Village are. The Capitol, and the Gamemakers want to know their tributes so they can optimise the effectiveness of the games. That isn't the only reason though; they want to keep an eye on the victors, too.
"did you listen? "she asks me, but I know what she means. As mentors, we hear the goodbyes in the justice building. The gamemakers transmit the conversations into the earbuds they outfit us with for the reaping ;It gives us an idea about the strengths and weaknesses of our tributes in advance, to help us help them. Sometimes I think they do it just to torture us. Make us really get to know the tributes so we feel their deaths more potently.
But Mags knows I listened. What she's really asking is if I heard the song; if I remember the boy.
And I did.
I knew the song well and so did she. We knew the sailors Annie asked him about, too. I worked with them in my youth, the year I was reaped. Mags' only son Jared had been one of them. I was there the day they were hanged in the gallows and I watched the boy admit to knowing about them, and being tied to the post in the square and receiving 60 lashes for not reporting them, ten per man.
I saw the scars myself when I helped his mother stitch him up at the justice building.
I nod my head yes, and Mags nods too. It's unanimous: he might have had a longer life span if we had let him volunteer.
"her brother was very harsh" Mags finally muses, tears in her eyes. I know Mags well enough to know what's coming.
"I'm going to call Fiona" she says.
"Your maid?" I ask with a grin
"yes. See if she can check in on that girl's brother. I have some choice words to share with him about how to speak to a lady" she tells me, and I know she isn't lying, but that isn't all she has to ask Fiona. Her primary worry right now is the poor boy Laz who she gave morphling to and ended up singing a song that's forbidden, right under the Capitols nose. But its my fault too- I brought him there. I convinced the peacekeepers to let him go to her. He pleaded with me, and I succumbed.
Mags shivers, and gets to her feet. She's determined not to let any of it weigh her down. We both know the peacekeepers won't move that quickly- they can't act when they can't tell people they spy on them in the Justice building in order to justify his execution. On top of that, the girl has so few relatives that they'll need him for interviews if the girl makes it to the final eight, and he's good looking enough that they'll want him on camera.
"Lets go to the dining car. They'll be out soon." Mags isn't asking me, she's telling me. She doesn't want me to sit here dwelling.
"I'll be out in a few minutes Mags. Just going to hop in the shower real quick" I tell her. Truthfully, im not ready to face the girl.
Mags is on her way to the door when she turns around thoughtfully "its good to see you back Finnick"
"Back?" I asked, What was she talking about?
"Yes, back." She answers with a little shrug "I haven't seen that light in your eyes for years"
"'Light' mags?" I roll my eyes at her. I hate it when she gets cryptic with me
"Like you can-" she cuts herself off thoughtfully "no, like you want to try to participate in the world again. It was good to see today"
"Whatever Mags, I'll see you in a few" I say.
"lets try not to let Pandora find out about what really happened in the boys section during the reaping. She'll be furious with us for meddling"
"Agreed." I say.
During my shower I have a really hard time not humming Laz's song, and have to stop myself repeatedly.
He's made it very hard not to root for Annie Cresta.