The Stars
Title: Vacation
Characters: Syarnark
Word Count: 1,021
Warnings: Talking about killing, apathetic talk
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games and the inspiration for these characters comes from another series entirely.
Notes: Some Syarnark~ Nothing much to say.
021: Vacation
Once, Syarnark went on vacation with some of the other Victors to tour the most infamous arenas, mostly for propaganda a few weeks before the upcoming year's Games were to start. Having only ever experienced the arena of his Games, he had to admit that the prospect excited him just a little. Even if it was an artificial landscape, the arenas were incredibly realistic.
There were ones ensconced in mountains, layered in caves, or swamped with quicksand so thick that raised paths had to be built for visitors to walk around and fully enjoy the experience.
It was at times like those that Syarnark felt like a child again - until he realized that he had never, in fact, felt much like a child before. He couldn't remember a time when he gazed upon the world with wonder and awe; District 3, after all, was very black and white and grey.
The camera love his expressions, and he offered them a smile and a small wave, as they passed through the area that housed an empty Cornucopia. The structure gleamed like the one in his own games, only this one was out in the open without trees to obstruct the view. For today there were no other visitors around, only the Victors and their entourage of press and a few guides in this vast landscape.
One of the other Victors from his District, an older man, walked near him the entire time. Syarnark knew there was a question behind those eyes, knew very well what the man wanted to ask but could not for fear of being overheard. He had enough experience dealing with types like Cuan and Faiz to understand the underlying concern.
Are you an ally? Or are you an enemy?
He was once asked about Cuan and the others, assured that the Capitol's prying ears and eyes were not privy to the conversation. It was back in the Capitol, in a lavish hotel just for the Victors who visited the Capitol for various reasons.
At first he'd played dumb, innocent and ignorant.
"That day of your Reaping," the man pointed out, "I saw you speak with a boy. That boy is often seen with a man who I have spoken to before. He never gave me his name, but did give me reason enough to believe that he is the leader of that group. I want you to answer me truthfully."
Syarnark shrugged, but his eyes no longer held mirth in them. They were the hardened, glinting eyes of one who was ready to bolt or snap his jaws shut, either one.
"He's my friend," he admitted. "That other guy is his brother, but I never really spoke to him much."
"That's nonsense," the man replied hastily. "There is something going on in District 3. Is it a threat? Or is it not?"
"Depends on whose side you're on, really," Syarnark answered him patiently. Inside, his mind was churning and twisting itself around trying to seek the correct plan of action. Did he tell Cuan about this the next time he was in the District? It might be too risky, especially with people poking around about them.
"And whose side are you on?"
"No one's side. I'm simply a citizen, a citizen who was Reaped and happened to survive the Games," Syarnark said. He knew the man didn't believe him. He knew that his smiles and his optimism only fooled the masses of Capitol citizens.
There were times when he asked himself if he felt guilty for winning. If it had been Pyro who was there with him, even though that was impossible, then would the result have been the same regardless?
He thought about it plenty, but always came up with the same answer.
Of course he would fight to live. Even if he had to fight Pyro. But then he realized that it would depend on the circumstances. The one who would serve the most use to the group - that would be the one who should live. The other would have to die as a sacrifice to the welfare of the others.
If it was Pyro, Syarnark might feel bad. No, he was sure that if he had to kill that boy he would never forget what he had done.
But other people…?
He didn't feel bad. People died all the time. There were plenty of people alive, even with the decreased population as opposed to the old days.
Pyro had once asked Cuan how he could kill innocent people, or people who had never wronged them. Cuan responded that it was because they were strangers that it was easy to kill them.
And he was right.
"Does that group work for the Capitol?"
"I won't tell," Syarnark promised with a smile and an obliging tilt of his head. "I won't tell anyone of what transpired here today. I'm sure you will not, as well."