Aramis Rosegold [D1 tribute] (knightofgrapes) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-03 01:51:00 |
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District tokens weren't one of the details that Aramis often remembered about the Games -- most of them simply looked like pieces of scrap -- but there were a few throughout the years that had stood out for him. There was the one year where a girl had a brass ring with intricate carvings of branches around the outer edge that had belonged to her grand-mother, and another Games, a boy had carried a small silver top covered in scratches that had been given to him by his younger brother just after his Reaping. Neither tributes had survived, but he remembered the fond looks both of them had given their tokens when they were alone in the arena. Sometimes, there was a touch of sadness to the glances as they turned the objects in their hands, as if they knew it was the last and only piece of home they would ever see before dying somewhere far away. At other moments, the way their faces lit up suggested that there was some intangible aura the trinkets possessed that inspired them to keep fighting -- something more powerful than any sponsor could give them through a silver parachute. But that wasn't how he felt about his own token, even though by all means, he should have. The box his parents had given him after his Reaping had sat untouched on his bedside table on One's floor ever since he had arrived at the Training Center, and he only felt compelled to open it now because the Games would begin tomorrow and he had to take it into the arena with him. The old silver pocket-watch, with its newer engravings of grapes and vines, had all the markings of home -- the natural touches of his mother's vineyard, his father's precision in watch-making, the luxury and beauty of One. But his own expression matched that of the blank face that stared back out at him. There were no pangs of homesickness nor sparks of elation at being reminded of his parents -- he could have been looking at any other piece of clockwork and felt the exact same nothing as he did for this supposed reminder of home. The token had been carefully chosen by his parents for him when he was a baby the moment they knew he would be put into training for the Games, perfectly calculated to remind the Capitol who exactly provided them the wine for their celebrations when the time came for him to volunteer. Aramis had only seen it a few times before, when his mother would show it to him as a reminder that it would be his the day he was finally -- not possibly -- chosen to represent One and repaid everything she and his father had invested into his training so he could elevate the family further in return. A last gift after years of swords, trainers, and food, and yet another weapon of a subtle sort to help him win the crowd and the Games. It was too late now and he didn't want to go into the arena with any regrets, but he wished he had something from Givry and Fleurie instead. He smiled at the thought of his sisters of them fighting over who would get to give him his token. Givry, future volunteer that she was, would insist he take something both practical and beautiful, like a pendant necklace he could garrott someone with, even if she should know better at seven that the Gamemakers wouldn't allow it. Fleurie would cry and put something pretty like one of her dolls in his lap, so that he would always have something nice to look at (or hug) if things got ugly in the arena. He could look at either of those, turn them in his hands after a kill, and smile fondly as he thought of them waiting and watching at home. Then again, perhaps he didn't need anything from them. No matter how the arena changed him -- and everyone always said it would change you -- they would always be with him to drive him home. And that was more powerful and unbreakable than any district token. |