This is exams period for me (On February 17th, I will officially have finished my engineering studies!^^), so don't expect much writing from me for a couple of weeks.
Year 60, June, Creneis Town.
Mags had learned not to grip the hand-guards too tightly. She rode serene, enjoying the sun on her skin, leaving a trail of sand behind her. The soft rumble of motor buzzed in her ears, now as part of her landscape as the keening seagull cries. It had changed her life, the motorcycle: she felt young again, effortlessly covering the mile between Victors' Village and FLASH in less than ten minutes.
In town she slowed, greeting faces, old and new. Every house and every path had memories to share, eager to prove their place in Mags' life. She grinned, making the motor roar as two eager-faced little girls dragged a huffing and puffing white–haired Catalina out of the garden.
"Hola, Mags," Catalina said with a harried grin. She lifted her walking-cane in salute. "Can't wait to ship those two off to FLASH and make them your problem instead of mine."
"Nana! Pa promised you'd take us!"
"You should have let me volunteer," Catalina grumbled.
"Forty-seven years, and you're still complaining?" Mags exclaimed, her eyes laughing as she scowled at her former trainee and colleague. She'd lost sight of so many of them, and cherished every occasion to glimpse into their lives.
Catalina's seemed full of love.
Mags' gathered hair floated to the tangy breeze as she rode, and with no peacekeeper guard to separate her from the people, she felt so alive.
Children aged six to twelve were gathered in the sandy field, enjoying the hour before lessons. Mags slowed.
Up before dawn, bundled up by eleven at night, you people don't know how to live.
Mags smile returned at the memory, nostalgic and true. Marquise still lived in Creneis Town, her shadow in every street they had walked together. And so it should be.
"Hola, Mags!"
Finnick was the first to rush to her. He beamed at his friends. See this is my great-aunt his laughing green eyes chanted and Mags smiled both at the frank admiration on the child's face and at his unabashed pride at claiming her at his.
Mags put a foot on the ground and urged him closer with a finger. "Finnick, that boy there, why don't you invite him to play?"
Finnick glanced around, before noticing the small sandy-haired boy sitting alone on the side of the field. He frowned in honest confusion.
"Would having an extra person ruin the game?" Mags asked as he hesitated.
"No but, if he wanted to he would ask," Finnick said, his words not quite a question.
"A lot of children are shy or afraid to be rejected," Mags said patiently. "If he doesn't want to, he'll refuse. Finn, you're popular." It was important Finnick understood there was more than fun and pride attached to leadership. "If you smile at him and make him feel included, the others will play with him too and you'll have made another child happy."
She regretted sometimes that Finnick was an only child. He was a good boy, but he had never learned to share, to compromise with his wishes for another's sake.
Finnick ran his hand through his hair. "No one else is talking to him, why should I?"
"Finnick, because it doesn't matter what others do, you have the ability to do the right thing so you should do it."
"Why?" He whispered, concern creasing his brow as he gazed upon the lonely boy. "Why is he sad?"
Mags wasn't upset, because she knew her little nephew was far from heartless, but he'd been loved and showered with attention from the earliest age, and had no clue of what it meant to be awkward or isolated.
Finnick's eyes were wide and serious as he gazed back at her. Mags felt her heart melt, vividly struck by how in that moment that gorgeous child resembled Esperanza.
"Finnick," she said, her voice cooler, sharper, her victor's voice. "If you don't do your best to make the world a better place then you're wasting your life and you have no right to be proud of yourself."
Finnick swallowed, his lips twitched but his smile quickly fell as Mags remained stern. She would not have him bask in his easy won popularity, his potential unmet.
"They won't be proud of me for bringing some weird guy in the game," Finnick finally pointed out, looking torn.
"But they'll know that you are fair and a good person, and most importantly, you'll know it too."
Finnick blinked, but suddenly, he was all charm and blinding smiles. "Alright, Auntie," he said. "I'll do it."
Mags chuckled softly as he rushed off. He was too young to truly believe her, or to see why it was so important, but hopefully, the lesson would stick.
The other kid jumped up to the occasion and Mags' smile turned wry when Finnick basked in the other's admiring stare. Why Finnick Odair, you'll have the whole underage population doing your bidding by the time you're sixteen…
Games 61, last three.
"Do not weep for me, Mags."
Deirdre's blinding smile filled the room, and for one shining instant, the bedridden woman was all laugh lines and stories.
"I had never thought I would live so long," Deirdre said, her voice rich and cheerful despite her weakness. "I had never thought I would be part of something so big." She grasped Mags' hand, her smile unfailing. "That I would be so happy, blind and all."
Mags had never liked dwell on her own mortality. She vowed every day that she would finish what she had begun but today of all days, she realized how many ghosts she had left behind.
Lyme and Brutus sat tall and impassive as tears coursed down her cheeks. Mags was ever so grateful.
Head Gamemaker Epicurus had given his last bow and Seneca Crane was making his entry. The 61st was a patchwork of old arenas, echoing the most memorable events.
Mags saw only an arena of ghosts. Over fifty years of ghosts, clamoring for attention in her mind. Unlocked memories, deep buried nightmares, and Mags wept for all those children she hadn't allowed herself to mourn as they deserved. In that moment, she was jealous of the Careers, for they worshipped volunteers, learning all their names and accomplishments at a tender age. They celebrated and remembered, together.
"Why did you never marry?" Mags said, her voice breaking as the screen phased to the outlier favorite, Carrie.
Had Carrie been anyone else, she would have killed. But Carrie wasn't just anyone. She was Fustel's eldest, the sixteen-year-old daughter of a victor. Carrie had turned her back to the Cornucopia and refused to take any weapon, be it sword, branch or rock. Sponsors had been aplenty for her, at least during the first days.
"The options are few," Brutus said. "At our mentors' urging I had a date with Lyme, but –"
"I think it took us all of five seconds to know it wasn't going to work," Lyme cracked, sparing Brutus a rare smile.
A brittle grin flashed on Mags' lips. Legacy tribute.
Carrie's looks and spirit, Fustel's greatest pride, had become his greatest curse. He had been the last victor of Six with blood clean from morphling. Now there were none.
Carrie fought all the way, because she knew. She dragged out the Games, setting fires, leaving baits and living on the food she had been given because of her father's name. She waited silently for a day at the bottom of a pit, until a whistling mockingjay all but forcibly dragged Eir from District Two to where Carrie lay trapped.
Mags' lips were frozen into a thin, angry smile. Carrie was a victor's child, the Gamemakers wouldn't have the arena kill her. Carrie knew, and it gave her power.
Eir took one long look at Carrie before giving her a small salute. "I've got District Nine to chase down," Eir said. "Stay out of my way for now and try not to win by default, Victor's child."
Victor's child, said with that unwavering respect and awe that Mags saw nowhere else.
"That's my girl," Brutus said. And it meant more in Two than in any other District. Mentors were mentors for life.
Mags stood up and leaned on Brutus' back, her folded arms on his wide shoulders. Two did not waste its own. Career training was a twisted cure for the rampant poverty and evil poisoning District Two, and for all it ruined, it did save individuals, in its way. It took the abused children, the orphans, those with nowhere else to go and gave them purpose and a home. Mags would never support it, but she had learned to listen, and to understand.
"Stop hitting on me, Mags," Brutus replied, his lips twitching, but the tightness to his eyes betrayed his pride and turmoil. Eir was his and Career mentors hated to lose.
Mags' smile broadened. Resentment and anger had filled the old mentor's room, back when they had all been together, thickening with every fallen tribute, but here, with the Careers, she could hide behind their strength and let the Hunger Games wash over her.
It was just her, Lyme and Brutus. There were no more deals with sponsors to be had, no reason to frantically rush about, stimulants coursing in your veins, one eye on your portable screen, while you flattered and cozened people you wanted to throttle more often than not. There was just them, Eir, Cassie and Scythia from Nine and an imaginary ticking clock.
Tick Tock.
Mags let out an incredulous breath when Scythia burst out of a pile of dead leaves and slammed into Eir.
Brutus didn't even flinch when Eir's head struck a pointed rock. Careers didn't flinch.
Mags's hand squeezed his arm but Brutus just stared back, his expression locked and his mouth shut from too many years of playing the perfect warrior.
"I'm old unfortunately," Mags whispered with a sad smile. "I need someone to lean on."
"I don't mind," Brutus said after a long pause.
Mags mourned that the others, even such clever ones like Beetee, would never see them for the complex people they were. To them, Brutus, Lyme and the others would forever be just Twos.
When the canon sounded, Cassie did not hesitate. Her screams filled the room when the sharp spike tore through her guts. Mags' hand tightened painfully around Brutus' shoulder, and she mourned her younger body, the one that could run until her muscles ached and she fell into untroubled sleep.
There was no running away anymore.
"It had been thirty years since Whittle," Lyme said slowly. "District Nine's victors kill average has risen to 1.9."
Mags shook her head slightly. Lyme remember the names of every tribute, she had memorized every kill, every arena and every death. It wasn't just her. Every teenager of thirteen who lived in the Annex knew.
"What do they teach you of Fife Chican?" Mags whispered.
They'd buried her rather than send her to the sea. Deirdre, the forgotten victor.
Brutus barely had to think. "Ninth Hunger Games, District Nine, seventeen years old. Kills: peacekeeper prisoner, knife to chest, beggar under pile of cloth, knife to chest," Brutus' voice was tight, aware he was speaking so factually of Mags' former ally. "Death: fall from a hovercraft."
"He was a Capitolite," Mags whispered. "Sent to deliver a message to the traitor in the Citadel. Fife thought he was a sick beggar too."
"Her interview was shown in the top twenty when I prepared for mine," Brutus added. "Never had the brass balls to declare I could see the future or slam a weapon under Flickerman's nose."
Mags chuckled. At least she didn't remember alone. "Fife was right, Caesar Flickerman grew to be a tremendous host."
That content smile. "That I would be so happy, blind and all."
Mags walked back to her quarters, reminding herself to keep her shoulders straight and not to drag her feet. She didn't stop, not at Seeder's, or Woof's, nor at Beetee's. They knew her too well, they would see her weakness. She saw how it hurt them, when she, out of them all, was the one in need of comfort.
She opened the door to empty quarters. "Eirene?" She called.
A muffled clang resounded in the bathroom.
"The Games are over?" Eirene's words were choked, dragged out, pained.
She hadn't thrown up. It was something else.
An acute sense of danger filled Mags. She brought her fist against the door and knocked sharply. They were both victors, adults, but Mags would forever be the mentor.
"Open the door, or I'm breaking it down," she ordered. "Now, Eirene."
The door clicked open and Mags gasped.
Eirene lay sprawled on the floor, naked, her arms and chest slashed and covered in blood. Eirene's breath came in shallow gasps, her fingers were white as she clutched the razor that had mutilated her pale skin.
"They'll heal it in no time, anyway," Eirene said, her defeated tone clashing with the hateful fire in her hooded eyes.
Mags couldn't breathe. She had stayed with Brutus and Lyme, cocooned in that illusion of strength. Four hours, why should she have worried about leaving a victor of twenty-two alone for four hours? Sickening guilt filled her chest.
It was alright, the volunteers, the deaths, the grieving, it was alright, because Mags protected her district, she protected the victors, she protected her own. If she didn't protect them…
Mags' grabbed the red-stained sink to steady herself.
If she didn't protect them, everything would fall apart.
"What made you do this?" She said hoarsely, turning the shower on and ushering Eirene under the warm jet. "Eirene, why?"
"You were right, Cecelia's victory made them want it," Eirene said. "They thought I was willing. I was told I had to be. Daphne and Asclepiad don't seem their type and I think they don't dare with Chrysoberyl, but Cecelia is gone again and so's Mercury." Her breath hitched. "You know, there's just been girl victors since me: Asclepiad, Cecelia, Mercury, now Scythia."
Deirdre's words echoed in her mind. 'Convince Capitolites they're doing the victor a favor if they… buy them.'
Mags held Eirene harder, not caring for the water and blood soaking her clothes. "Scythia's pretty," Eirene rasped, shivering. "Before, there were more guys than women victor and this... Do you think it's on purpose, that Cecelia was just an excuse? Don't they have other means of getting their whores?" Eirene spat, rubbing the blood off her skin while tears mingled with the water. "I didn't train for that. Not for that!"
Mags' hands shook and her heartbeat hadn't slowed, but now it was not from horror but from fury. The balance had been tipped. Mags stood up. Snow would not win at this game. That heartless man had yet to learn who he was up against.
"Get yourself dressed for the recaps," Mags said softly. "I will be back soon."
Eirene nodded weakly and Mags knew she had only one chance to succeed. She was their mentor, she would not fail them.
Glynn's smile fell when she saw Mags' expression.
"I can dispatch an assassin against almost anyone if you wish," Glynn said in wide-eyed concern as she took Mags' hand in hers.
Mags' lips didn't twitch but her fury abated just enough for her to remember who to blame. They sat on the sofa, a thick silence descending over the room. With Glynn, she could be herself.
Cereus, Esperanza, Glynn, Plutarch. They were the last.
The words felt like acid-laden mud in Mags' mouth as she forced them out. "Eirene and Mercury from Three are being prostituted in addition to Cecelia."
Glynn's jaw tensed. Her eyes narrowed and Mags inwardly prayed for a solution. Surely, brilliant as she was, Glynn would find one.
"Mercury is working for Minister Blueblood," Glynn said. "He's one of the three creepy men of the new government. No, working isn't an euphemism here," Glynn added when Mags glared. "The man is building a crazy technological house and since Snow has forbidden to bring workers in from the Districts, Blueblood made Mercury his 'personal victor' to handle the very specific electronics, she's his, I suppose," Glynn said in distaste. "Since he's a friend of Snow, he got away with it, but Mercury won't be getting naked." A wry, impressed smile made its way on Glynn's lips. "Honestly, I don't know how she managed it. I'll look into it."
"Please do," Mags said, her thoughts back on Eirene. Bile rose in her throat. "I need the records of camera 4709 from five to five thirty PM leaked, Glynn."
"That I can do, give me a couple of months." Glynn pursed her lips, wariness entering her eyes. "What's on those records?"
Mags let herself fall against her old friend, soaking up her warmth and the soft promise of a brighter future.
"Eirene cutting herself up because she had to pretend she'd begged Snow for the privilege of going with Capitolites," Mags whispered.
Even the Capitol was not made of people so heartless they would condone this. If only because only the very privileged would ever be able to pay for a victor's unwilling company.
Glynn briefly put her face in her hands. "We're too old for such shite, Mags." She sighed, her expression stony once more. "Plutarch stole a private moment with Carrie, during her testing session."
Mags' eyebrows shot up. A ball of worry blocked her throat. Plutarch had barely become a Gamemaker, he shouldn't be attracting any kind attention!
"Plutarch told her to be so boring that no one will ever want victors to have a legacy again," Glynn whispered, looking weary to the bone. "She did pretty well on that, poor child."
Mags found herself blinking tears out of her eyes. "Hug him for me."
Year 61, October, Creneis Town.
Mags broke through the crowd of children, appalled. They parted around her, their chatter stopping abruptly, but their eyes still glittered with the same awe and frightening satisfaction.
A stocky older child was kneeling on the ground, braced for a blow, his face dirty from sand and mud and red from humiliation.
Over him, vindictive and triumphant, stood a boy with bronze locks, elected by the crowd to give the other a lesson. A boy Mags knew all too well.
"Finnick," Mags said, her voice cold.
Finnick started in surprise. He straightened and turned to her, solemn pride giving treacherous maturity to his handsome features.
"Sheller's a bully," Finnick said. "He made Coralee cry, he told lies for months and made everyone hate her and keeps shoving the younger kids around. He had it coming."
Maybe the others saw a hero, but in that moment, Mags saw the Hunger Games, with mud, blood and cheers.
"He will be punished," Mags snapped. "Get away from him. Sheller, up."
"He got away with it for months!" Finnick said, shoving the gasping Sheller down with a foot as he tried to stand up. "He deserves more than what he'll get."
Mags' eyes flashed with anger. Fueled by the illusion that he incarnated the passion and rights of an entire crowd, Finnick had forgotten both his morals and the little humility he had.
"So, you didn't ask for an adult to help control the situation, you didn't go to Coralee to give her a chance to defend herself in all the weeks she was excluded," Mags said, her steely voice wiping the smiles off the children's faces and silencing all but the most tenuous whispers. "You didn't have people accompany the younger kids out of school to protect them, you did nothing that could have been time consuming but the decent thing to do," she said, watching Finnick deflate and his expression harden. "But when it's time to bash a boy while being cheered on by your friends, then you're suddenly there, Finnick Odair."
"I should have let the bullying go on?" Finnick cried, crossing the distance between them in angry strides. He was tall for his age, his shoulders already broadening.
"Of course not," Mags said, her eyes darting to the sides to make sure no peacekeeper made the commotion their business. "But Sheller could only bully because you and the others didn't care enough about the bullied to stop him until it went out of hand. Sheller made no one hate Coralee, you're the ones who decided to stop talking to her instead of laughing off Sheller's accusations or get adult help," she said, glaring at the not-so-triumphant- anymore assembled children. "You didn't do this for Coralee or anyone, you did this because it made you feel good."
Finnick was scowling fiercely as he reached her. "Not in front of my friends," he hissed overflowing with all the righteous anger an eleven-year-old could muster.
"Finnick, -"
"If it's only to tell me off, I don't want to hear it," he cut in, grasping her arm tightly. "Not here!"
Mags wasn't impressed. Even Sol, who'd tested their limits as parents during his mid-teenage years, had never forgot who was the adults and who was the child.
"Then come with me, unless you want the whole of Creneis to hear this conversation," she said.
"I tried to do good," Finnick exploded when they were alone. "Why can't you ever take my side!"
"I take your side often enough, Finn," Mags replied, her voice soft. "Being good is hard, good intentions will sometimes backfire. It's hard. You have to accept that you still have to learn and discuss things with adults before doing such things. Asking doesn't make you a baby, it makes you wise and adult."
Finnick grumbled something under his breath and then turned back to her. "Coralee could have come to me if she needed help. I can't know everything."
At least he listened. "No, but you can make it clear that anyone that they can come to you for help?"
Finnick rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Why wouldn't I help?"
Mags granted him a small smile. "Did you ever laugh at that girl?"
Finnick smiled back cheekily. "Yes, but I laugh at myself all the time. It's just good fun, no low blows. If she can't take it, then she's just silly."
"She's silly alright," Mags agreed. "But it doesn't make her pain at being teased any less real. And she doesn't know you're not being mean when you laugh."
Finnick groaned.
"It's hard, Finn," Mags said, placing an affectionate hand on his shoulder. "But it's worth the effort."
Finnick ducked his head, giving her a pleading stare cute enough to melt stone. "Are you going to make me apologize to Sheller?"
Mags shook her head. "I'll deal with him now." A small smile broke her lips. "Finn, you turned eleven last week. When you were a boy, you wanted to go to FLASH."
The boy was a natural leader, but he was too carefree to understand what a gift life had made him. It was time he learned.
Finnick blinked in surprise. "People get in at twelve. I'll wait," he whispered.
"Finnick, you're clever, you're bored at school and you can't sit still. Don't you want something more advanced, with people as good at you, who don't hold you back?"
Finnick shrugged. "I'm quite fine here," he said, his eyes on the ground.
Mags' felt her temper snap. She would have none of that. "You lazy coward."
Finnick's eyes widened in shock and hurt. "Auntie -" he said, stammering perhaps for the first time in his life. "How did I make you so upset?"
"You come less and less to see me at Victors' Village because you know that with me, you don't get away with everything. I don't tell you off unfairly, Finn, and I give you praise when you deserve it, not just because you exist. Does it not bother you to think Sheller might be treated the same as you if only he was as handsome?"
Finnick shook his head fiercely. "They don't just like me because I'm handsome!"
"You have no friends, Finnick," Mags said, unfortunately all too aware she wasn't mistaken. "You have admirers, you have buddies and playmates. Friends are people you feel safe about being weak around. When you're sad and worried and not sure about something, who do you tell? If someone is sad and upset and weak, do they ever tell you?"
Finnick shot his jaw out, his eyes gaining a bright sheen. "I've got friends! It's not my fault I never feel weak!"
Everyone needed a friend. "Finnick, you're full of qualities," Mags said, "but you've trapped yourself in your desire for everyone to find you perfect. You just need to find the courage to take risks. You will sometimes fail, you will sometimes be humiliated, but in the end you'll be stronger and better than you could ever be by choosing the easy way."
She lifted his chin up. "Besides, FLASH is work but heaps of fun."
Finnick scowled pointedly. How odd that fear of failure often took root in the kids with the greatest potential.
"Finn dearest," Mags said in warning, a small smile on her lips, "if you say no because you feel that'd be winning the argument, I'm drowning you."
Finnick's lips twitched. He finally couldn't hold it and grinned ruefully. "You've just ruined my reputation," he grumbled. "I've got to take those FLASH tests now. You left me no choice." His gaze lingered on FLASH, and there was unconcealed envy there before he dropped his gaze. "You really sure I can make it?"
"Yes," Mags said. "I'll help you as much as I can."
Year 61, December, FLASH
Mags started when the door was slammed open. Cheeks flushed and eyes defiant, Finnick marched up to her.
"Is this a test?" He said, outrage thick in his cracking voice.
"If you want the rumors that you're my pet to stop without me having to be unfairly harsh to you, you should stop barging in my office, Finn," Mags said with a small smile.
Finnick crossed his arms. He'd never had a problem with being anyone's pet. "What is Sheller doing here?"
Mags leaned forward. "You're right, it's a test, for the two of you."
"But why him?" Finnick said, his anger ebbing away as Mags continued to smile gently.
It was time he learned about the world. "Finnick, have you talked to the other kids? Did anything strike you?"
Finnick paused. "They're closed up, and angry," he finally said. "Not all of them, but many. They're angry and sometimes, they don't seem to care… They're not the same." Finnick swallowed, his face falling and fear entered his eyes. "Mags, what is wrong with them?"
Nothing unfixable. "That's why I want you to talk to Sheller, Finn. What you'll tell him and what he'll tell you will be kept secret."
Finnick gave her a weak smile. "Friends are people you can be weak with but who make you strong. You want me to be Sheller's friend? How would he make me strong? How can I make him strong?"
Mags nodded, concealing her pride. When Finnick stopped to think, he could be so remarkably sharp, piecing conversations together as if he'd never forgotten a word.
"You grew up happy and loved," Mags said. "Sheller's life has been very different. He never cared about being good but he's smart and he's gifted. Talk to him without fear, and most importantly, listen. Come to me about what confuses you, what disturbs you. You will soon see how understanding will make you both stronger. You do not have to like him, Finn." She smiled. "I doubt you'll like each other at first." Finnick laughed. "But you must listen."
"I'll do it!" Finnick promised. He then looked down and shuffled his feet. "I mean, I'll try my best, but I think I'm good at keeping secrets."
Mags smiled. Soon, he would find his true confidence.
Year 62, February, FLASH
Mags watched them play on the grounds. Few remembered now when FLASH had been the ruins of an old desalinization factory, with every year, and every victor, the academy had expanded and now, with over two hundred students and fifty-man staff, it was a world of its own.
They came in tough, selfish little things, twelve years of age and yet so adult, twelve and yet so naïve. They were the ones with talent, the ones she could save. There were the others, a precious handful, those who came from stable, loving families with prospects, those who didn't need Mags to have a chance at life but who would be wasted if she let them take up their parents' trades.
And there was Finnick, but poor Finnick had been cursed with a great-aunt with high standards.
She watched them, and in each of those boys and girls, she saw three people: the child, the tribute and the rebel. She saw the children, the social and antisocial, the leaders and followers, those who sowed conflict and thrived on discord and those who made fast friends and stuck by them, but then she cocked her head to the side, and the picture changed.
She saw all those who could never be tributes and those who could. She saw those who wanted attention and admiration and those who cared little as long as they got their way. She saw the change in behavior when there were adults around, those who behaved better, and those who behaved in a way more fitting for a child's view of what tributes should be.
Mags smiled. She saw the fighters and thinkers, the rebels, the generals. Forty-two new voices, forty-two new flickering flames this year, to be outstanding whalers, divers, meteorologists, shipwrights, sailors and captains. Even the quarter who would drop out would have a future guaranteed.
But for now, they were children, making the most of their two hours of freedom before the instructors dragged them back inside. It was freedom with high stakes, for every game held a prize for its winners.
Marina's leg wasn't injured, she was rubbing it on the ground for show, and when Finnick passed around her with the ball, she bolted and jumped on his back. He yelped as he crashed down.
Marina rolled off him and took the ball, darting away. She was blocked by one of her teammates, who'd calculated that one more goal and she'd top his score.
"Pass the ball," the boy demanded, while lunging for her.
One point to you if your team scored a goal, three individual points if it was you who scored, but if you didn't touch the ball for three minutes, you could switch teams with a person of your choice and steal half their individual points. Lastly, if it was always the same people passing the ball and scoring, the opposing team could score a point too. Most children focused on stealing the ball and scoring at first, but then they learned.
Finnick was back on his feet. He whispered something to Rhain who had been strategically waiting on the side. After some more whispering, they shook hands.
"I switch with Marina!" Rhain shouted.
For an instant the game seemed to freeze.
With that unexpected move Rhain had stolen points, but also one of the better players from the team he was now in. Later, Marina threw the ball in Rhain's face, forcing him to catch it and making sure he couldn't switch with her again.
Paying little attention to his bleeding nose, Rhain tripped Delfin when the other laughed.
Tough, selfish little things. Mags allowed them to find their place with values they understood and slowly she'd teach them better.
Later Finnick gave Rhain a piece of his lunch. He'd been quicker than most to grasp that cooperating was more important than being the very best.
Mags left them to the instructors, a proud smile on her lips.
Year 62, March, Victors' Village
Mags knew her day would be long when she saw Tyna Odair, all outrage and righteousness, march towards her, Angelo following her with the air of a man forced.
She led them to the living room, sparing a glance towards the kitchen where Cereus was already preparing lunch.
"Mags, would you care to explain why Finnick asked his father about conjugal rape at breakfast?" Tyna demanded, her voice rising.
Mags blinked. Oh. "He's eleven, that's the age they start to wonder," she said, wondering what deeper issue had brought Finnick's parents here.
"He was happy before," Tyna said, her cheeks reddening. "Now he's confused and so full of questions!"
Mags flashed Angelo a weary glance. Tyna was not someone she could argue with.
"I'm the one talking to you, Mags," Tyna snapped. "Don't think to turn my husband against me."
That kind of comment was why Mags knew arguing was futile. She kept her voice calm. "You and Angelo were both at FLASH, Tyna."
"And we know what kind of kids go there," Tyna replied. "And he lets that Sheller mold his mind like -," Tyna gasped for breath, her green eyes overflowing with outrage. "Mags, you made us who we are, and we are forever grateful, but that's why we worked so hard, to make sure our son wouldn't be exposed to that!"
"You saw what kind of kids get in, but you also see what kind of young adults leave," Mags said coolly. "I daresay they're not the kind I'd be ashamed to be friends with."
Tyna took a step forward, so close Mags could feel the taller woman's breath on her. Mags bit back a growl. She'd lost all authority on Tyna when the woman had become her niece. That girl was trapped in the illusion she had something to prove to Mags, uselessly fighting every day not to be shadowed by her.
"You don't care about him!" Tyna accused. "So what if our Finn's a little more naïve and a little less productive than he could be? He'd be happy and safe! You just never understood the worth of that!" Tyna shouted, her body trembling. "You care that he becomes the best so you can use him."
Mags paled, words locked in her mouth. She wasn't. Finnick was so beautiful, he could be fleet Captain, he could be competent and loved. She hadn't seen someone with an aura like that since Caspian Medes. Finnick thrived in that ambient, he was challenged and happy. Wasn't he? The sliver of doubt, cold and cutting, the perpetual war between the rebel and the mother inside her, stole Mags' ability to remain impassive.
Cereus' voice was like a warm cloak thrown over her shoulders. "We're educating him so he knows what choices he has when he becomes an adult."
"I didn't ask you," Tyna spat.
Cereus firmly pulled her away from Mags. "Deal with your husband how you wish, Tyna, but don't try to keep me out of my wife's affairs. You took from FLASH and still take merrily, and now, you're afraid Finn will ask about you, when he realizes you're a Stormborn, a daughter of FLASH," he lowered his voice when Tyna gasped in hurt. "He won't stop loving you, don't cut his wings before he leaves the nest."
"So I'm a bad mother, that's it?" Tyna exclaimed, tears springing from her eyes.
Mags weariness turned to horror when she saw the flash of bronze out of the open window.
"Be quiet," she urged. She locked eyes with Cereus, gesturing out of the door. If Tyna saw Finnick had overheard… Mags closed the window shut.
"Quiet?" Tyna exclaimed. "You're the ones murdering Finn's innocence, telling him that he has to do the right thing when all that means is he'll hurt from seeing what he didn't see before, and then they'll avox him," Tyna shrieked, throwing down a chair in rage. "Because that's what happens to people stupid enough to think the world needs changing!"
Capitol propaganda was so deep rooted, the fear so strong, that Mags wasn't even shocked by the words. Her family was too extended to hope they would all have broken free of their overlords' clutches.
"Tyna, he's too clever to stay innocent and innocence is no gift," Mags said sharply. "If we don't teach him, life would, and it'd leave him confused and lost. If you can't have faith in us, have faith in Finnick to be good."
When the words left Mags' mouth she realized that it was Finnick's goodness that terrified Tyna so. The thought filled Mags with a terrible sadness.
"I'd rather have been left to rot where I was born than see Finn die like that," Tyna said, oblivious to how her husband flinched at that. "Why did you tell him it was his responsibility to stick his nose in others' troubles!"
The door burst open. Tyna cried out, her hand flying to her mouth, when she saw her son.
"Your voice pierces through the walls," Cereus said in barely contained anger. "You should have sent him on his way before rushing here to shout at my wife."
Tyna whirred towards Mags. "You let me talk while you knew –"
"I told you to be quiet," Mags snapped.
The woman blanched. "Why do you treat us all like children?" Tyna said, falling seated on the couch. "Can't you leave me handle my own family?"
"You don't own me, Mama" Finnick suddenly said, confusion and dismay plain on his face. He was looking at them as if he had never seen them before. "FLASH is talking to people and learning to sail and understand things. It's making your body strong and making screwed up people okay and awesome. It's what I want."
"You don't know what you want, Finn," Tyna said, her voice soft and pleading as she turned to her beloved son. "You can't know what's good for you."
"If it's because I'm little, then Mags is older than you," Finnick replied diffidently, his arms crossed. "What does Nana say?"
"Esperanza has nothing to say," Tyna scowled. "It's none of her business." She stepped up to Mags, betrayal etched into her features. "He used to respect me before you came!"
Finnick stared in horrified disbelief as his tear-stricken mother slammed the door. Mags' heart went out to him. No child should witness such a fight.
Why couldn't you be the adult for once, Tyna? She thought bitterly.
"Be a man and run after her," Cereus told Angelo.
"I can't stand between my family and my wife," Angelo protested, blushing under Cereus' stern gaze.
"Try, because Finnick loves you both," Cereus said. There were no compromises to be had. "It's not about family or bias, it's about what's right."
When Angelo rushed out, Mags felt something rip. Family was meant to be forever, but she wondered now, how much blood could fix. She shut her eyes, ever so grateful for Cereus' arms around her waist. His support chased the doubts away. Mags let the touch calm her.
"I'm staying at FLASH, right?" Finnick said, his voice small and his eyes wide in fear.
"Of course you are," Mags said, pulling him into a hug. She would not let him believe he was to blame for such strife.
Finnick's arms were painfully tight around her. Mags held him close, waiting for him to be ready to let go.
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Recommendation of the day: The Mountain of the Sea by Lorata. It's in my favorites.
It's Brutus' POV and centered on his relationship with Mags. It's elegant, clever, beautifully written and has remarkable characterization. It made me think of all the things I could have done better when I gave Brutus a voice in Checkmate. Seriously, it's just a one-shot, go read it.
She also wrote a wonderful 6-chapter story on Lyme's life up to –but not including- her games (Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice also a favorite), it's gritty and real, with the best depiction of abusive parents I have ever seen (layered and gray and not over the top at all), but holds none of the shove-it-in-your face perversity and blood you see in many Career-centric fics. I'm jealous.