seeder (deadlybotany) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-01-12 14:53:00 |
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Her engagement ring had felt strange around her finger, when Kale had presented it to her that balmy afternoon the week before she had set out for the Capitol, but now she found it a comfort. It was a simple woven band of wood, not flashy enough to impress anyone in the Capitol - although a few of her fans had cooed over its ‘rustic charm.’ But it was home, and it had served as a timely reminder during the more horrific moments of the Games that Seeder did indeed have something to go home to. In spite of the best efforts of the Capitol. Another year; another Career victor. Not that she would dare refer to them out loud as such here. She relaxed her guard somewhat as she realised that the person approaching her at the headquarter coffee table was Bolt from Ten, another district that had been given the short straw when it came to the Odds most definitely not being in their favour. The corners of her mouth turned upwards in a brief smile. “Fancy seeing you here,” she added, though this was a typical sample of dry Seeder humour. Coffee was to most victors like what water was to a fish - although someone from Four had mentioned once upon a time that fish didn’t in fact drink water. She would have to take their word for it. Humor was far from what Bolt was feeling, going home one more time with two dead bodies. He'd never travelled back with a Victor, and was beginning, after fifteen years, to believe he never would. Perhaps he and Pippa had merely been flukes. "Seeder," he greeted simply. He liked the other Victor well enough--not that he really liked anyone of this eclectic collection of murderers and murderers' aides that gathered once a year to bring another into their ranks. Still, she was from Eleven, and those from the outlying districts had to stick together--at least to some degree. "Maybe next year," he sighed, as much to himself as to the other mentor. “Maybe,” Seeder echoed, though she was coming to recognise such assurances as being polite nothings. Even before the Games had pulled her into their vortex, tipping her world upon its head, she had grown up watching tributes from the poorer districts being dispatched by One, Two and Four as efficiently as if they were rows of corn lined up before a scythe. She felt that smouldering resentment well up inside of her once more. At least it wasn’t Two, she supposed. “I took the last of the real stuff,” she added, proffering her cup. “You can have it.” Bolt shook his head. "Keep it. Enjoy it while you're here." Partly for fear of actually coming to like it, he didn't partake in many things in the Capitol he couldn't get at home--and District 10's 'coffee' was nothing like the Capitol's. He poured himself a glass of water instead, then grimaced at its tropical infusions. Did no one just drink water? "I hope you weren't...too attached to them," Bolt said awkwardly, a way of offering what little comfort there might be. She smiled a little at the expression on Bolt’s face as he sampled the water. It was obviously that he hadn’t found it to his liking. Her humour was quickly distilled, however, but his next remark. “Eleven’s a big district,” she added softly. “I didn’t know them from before. But thank you.” Seeder considered. Was it polite to return the favour, and ask after his, or would that be pushing familiarity too much? It seemed like some of the victors she could get along with if things were different, but encouraging your children to kill each other was never going to not be awkward. She wondered if it ever got easier. “Do you have any plans for when you get back to Ten?” she ventured. “If you don’t mind my asking.” Her escort had drummed etiquette into her, and Seeder found it a handy shield to raise when she was searching for sure footing conversation-wise. Bolt's face was expressionless, but he didn't quite meet her eye. "Visit their families. Feed the horses. While away the year until we're back here again." He was, perhaps, past holding grudges over the whole thing, but that didn't make it any easier and it didn't make it any less all-consuming. After a moment, it occurred to him to return the courtesy. "You?" “The same,” Seeder added. She had started to try and give them a little something too. Not that it was a replacement for what they had lost, of course. But when you had just lost a child in such a horrific way, putting food on the table - something most struggled in Eleven struggled to do anyway - sometimes felt like one task too many. She could understand death through starvation. She could understand death through accidents in the fields. But she was still trying to understand death when it was like this. And when tributes from those districts dispatched it, a little too willingly, it seemed from her eyes. There were other plans, of course. She felt the comforting pressure of the carved ring around her finger. Capitolites naturally gushed over their little district darling who would be married by the next games, but victors seem to fall into two camps about it. Some were genuine in their congratulations, perhaps likewise finding comfort in the distraction, but she had avoided bringing it up in case it felt like rubbing salt in the wounds. She had a future of a sort when other teenagers who would never live to reach 19 wouldn’t. “They introduced me to a horse when I was visiting Ten,” she said finally with another cautious smile. It was during her victory tour, of course, but there was no other time victors were permitted to go from one district to another. No need to point it out, in other words. “Got me to come over and pat it. It looked gentle, but it was so big. I may sure they were holding the reins good and tight before I walked over.” "They're good creatures," Bolt said, perking up--well, as much as Bolt ever perked up. "Loyal, hardworking, steady. As much as you could ask for in an animal." It was a surprise to no one who really knew him that his post-games talent involved taking care of horses in the Capitol, especially those carrying in the chariots each year. Many joked that he liked the creatures better than he liked people, even in his own district. They were not wrong. "You're the one getting married, aren't you?" “They seem very - noble, I suppose?” Seeder ventured. “Just the way they look at you. It’s very solemn.” She supposed that it must have looked rather funny to the locals, seeing a victor fresh from the Games skittish about approaching an animal that was their livelihood. She had been tempted by the encouragement to get on the mare, but her escort had quickly intervened, perhaps fearing bruises - or worse, rumpled hair. “Yes, that’s me,” she added. “And we don’t have any horses in Eleven, but Kale and I were thinking of getting a dog or two-” once he moves in “-afterwards. I think I’d like the bigger ones. The smaller ones, they seem kind of yappy.” "Any dog under fifty pounds is a cat," Bolt agreed, "And cats are pointless. Congratulations, by the way. Much happiness, and all that." He took another sip of his drink; grimacing less this time but still not buying into it. "Don't serve this tripe there," he said, holding up his glass. “Lazy good for nothings,” Seeder agreed, taking another mouthful of her coffee. She was about to say something else but then a neon-bright flash of fabric in the corner of her eye confirmed that her escort had finally remembered her. With the promise of nails and hair and other things that sounded equally torturous, Seeder was off. “‘Til the next time then,” she said by way of non-committal reply. Whatever that may entail. |