Day Twenty-One: What I was made for
I won. I was made to win. To carry the Two flag to a place of pride in the Academy, that was what they were told. Every year, two Twos would go, one at the least would return in a box. Twos were made for that, for the return. What they weren't readt for was their tour
Twelve doesn't care. Selene feel their glares, but there's no weight to their glares. There's just the mournful silence, the single missing Victor and a town square filled with grief. There's no flags, no banners, no memory of those who died other than the too large families standing on stage with their dead sibling's faces hovering behind them. Selene found it easier not to look at them, to look at the crowd and talk about how proud she was to have killed their children, the girl directly and the boy to her ally.
Eleven resents. Glares up at her as she smiles and tosses her hair back like she was told she just had to do if she wanted any chance of cultivating Capitol affections. She can feel the hate, not just for her but for the Capitol. Their sympathy, reserved for the families of two empty-eyed children staring back at her, looks all too preferable. Shaking heads, tentative smiles, embraces and grateful nods. Selene wishes she'd got that sympathy.
Ten accepts. There's no festivities, but Ten understands and doesn't have any complaint for what's happened. They nod, and smile, and congratulate her. They have no Victor, past one broken boy who'd died decades ago. They hope next year will be their year, and don't complain that Selene had taken out one of their chances, because Lippizaner had been their best chance. Pretty, determined. And now she's dead.
Nine is angry. They glare at her, glare at the banners of the Capitol. They wish that there was no Games, see the Games as et another tool. The yelling tells her as much. But, of course, she gets her fair share of hate as well. They don't attack her, but the speech isn't well attended, the speech is ignored. People boo, shout, and she can do nothing but smile and continue to speak.
Eight hates. Not angry at the Games, not seeing Selene as a tool of the Capitol and resenting that. Eight hates her specifically, from the moment that teenaged boy storms forwards and throws a clump of mud that pours itself all over Selene's pretty white dress. She has no time to complain before the boy's grabbed, and that sets the tone for the rest of the visit. Angry people lunging forward, shouting, complaining. Peacekeepers telling them off, handling the issue and worse. The train leaves a couple hours earlier than planned, and Selene is fine with that.
Seven understands. Save for the woman who looks at her with flat hate, a brunette ensconced in a crowd of blondes separated from the rest of the crowd, Seven doesn't condemn her in public. They'd prefer for one of theirs to come back, but as the Escort tells her, Seven is going to value their pride above all else. Their pride at being unbent, unbowed, unbroken. Their pride at accepting the Games and moving on from them, rather than staying stuck in the past
Six mourns. The strings of coloured banners, standing and waiting for someone to take them down. Pink, the pink Six wears every year. They're strung everywhere, from rooves and windows and even across the main square. The Sixes are clustered in the square as if it's protecting them, although she can't tell from what. The aura of Six, cold and aloof, contrasts with the relative warmth she's feeling, with the vibrant atmosphere even in the mud and grime of Six she can see on the people.
Five is divided. The city she's in is bright, open and welcoming. There's wide boulevards, Capitolites everywhere on their excursions. It seems that this is the nicest part of Panem she's been too so far, but looking at the people tells a different story. Trenches in the quagmire of people separate groups. Blondes, seeming to be everywhere, cluster closest to the stage in what seems to be work uniforms. Brunettes with a scattering of blondes and redheads further back, looking less well kept. Still, Selene puts that out of her mind. Five's also the first one with real festivities. The first one where, rather than one or two, several girls, several boys come up and invite her to dance. She accepts, and maybe something happens, but with all the drinking who can remember?
Four cowers. Four clusters closer, and Selene can't see why but they seem so scared. Loire and Magellan were always so confident, so brave, and she can see their faces up on the big screens, smiling down at her like she hadn't put a spear into both of them in the final fight. Their families, up on that stage, look terrified like the little girl from Eight before Selene. Well. They look scared, and Peacekeepers are glancing around like there's something about to happen. Nothing does happen, of course, but Selene's questions are unanswered by the Four Victors, who shake their heads at real questions and toss her from partying house to partying house.
Three waits. The days are hot, and Selene supposes they'd be sunny, but as it stands the sun is unable to cut through layered smog and grime. The Threes are relatively sedate, two Victors polite and gracious. It's almost nice, after rambunctiously fun Four and excitedly flirty Five. Sedate, and when it's over Selene can say she''s glad to have had the experience, even if she isn't quite sure what the experience was.
One is gracious. Mei would have been so glad for Selene to have won, and of course they have no hard feelings that Mei had been cut nearly in two when Selene had got. Only her mother and father are there, her sister's out in Seven with the other staff out there, and in an instant Selene knows exactly who that woman staring with hate had been. And maybe it's fickle, maybe childish, but Selene doesn't care. It was the Arena, and anybody who says what she did to Mei was wrong is wrong themself. What she did to Mei was a mercy, compared to what Mei did.
The Capitol is ever so glad to have a proper Victor, another shiny Squaddie after a coward, and a cheat before that had soured them. Selene is that perfect victor. Tall, well built, so much more substance than the pretty little things from One (she's assured of that by more than one Sponsor at balls and parties). She isn't sure, but then the lights go out and she knows she wasn't prepared for this. Not like her allies were.
Two is home. Two is warm, welcoming and open. Two greets her as one of their own, as a remnant of the pair that had gone with smiles to the battle. The half they'd got back. She gossips with Diana, Mason helps when she wants to redecorate her house, and Nike always brings around food when Selene can't cook for herself. But there's something missing. She trains, practices, helps kids, but the spark's gone. This isn't what she's meant to be doing.
This isn't what I was made for