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Tweak says, "Nanoo Nanoo"

mags flanagan (victourious) wrote in dunwichgame,
@ 2024-06-18 18:04:00

Entry tags:

!log/thread/narrative, the hunger games: cinna, ∙ plot: 017 dunwich used power swap, ◌ inactive: mags flannagan

Cinna + Mags

(backdated) june 14th | tw: mentions of child death/murder/blood/violence, usual hunger games tw's, blood, etc. | complete

“You're from the Capitol aren't you?””

Mags was still certain she was going to wake up in the games. Or in hell. Somewhere not Dunwich, existing in a state that was destroyed in war years and years ago. None of it made any sense. This room with all it's gadgets, a tiny house all to herself, with a key just for her? A door that locked so she could keep people out? It felt safe. That was dangerous. She hadn't slept at all, and while she still jumped a mile high at the knock on the door she had been expecting it. She practically ran across the small room, trying to peek through the hole to see who it was. No one she recognized. “Who are you?”

The sound of footfalls on the other side of the door was so soft that Cinna almost missed it. But the voice that rang out was clear, even through the wood. "Hi, my name is Cinna… I don't know – I don't think we've met." He had his suspicions, but he wasn't going to bring them up without reason. "I'm a friend of Astarion's? The man who found you," he added, in case Mags didn't remember the man's name. "You, ah, called him a mutt?" Cinna glanced up and down the hallway, but it was empty. "I think we're from the same place. Panem, that is."

Cinna. Sounded like a Panem name. Sounded like a Capitol name and it got her heart all caught in her throat just like that. It was over. Whatever sort of test this was, it was over. She wondered if she'd failed or not. Leaving the door, she grabbed her knife and slid it into her pocket - just in case. As soon as she got back to the door, Mags took one steadying breath before unlocking and opening it. “He called himself a vampire. Sounds like a mutt. Besides, Rom called him one, not me. Is this the next stage? Did we win?” Showered as she was, her only clothes were stained in blood. She still looked a mess. “You're from the Capitol aren't you?”

The door opened and a young girl appeared in the gap, blood stained but resolved. Cinna's heart gave a painful lurch in his chest. "I am. And you're – the Mags Flanagan!" Cinna had wondered before; now he was certain. The young woman in front of him was one of the very victors he had seen in the recorded Games of yesteryear. He started to smile, caught himself and pressed a hand to his mouth. "I'm sorry… I'm guessing you don't know me? No, of course not. We won't have met until you're… well." Deep breath. "This is going to sound like a Capitol lie and I won't blame you if you slam the door in my face – but we are not in Panem anymore. And… I think I am from your future."

That made no sense. Vampires also made no sense, though, and being taken out of the games like that made no sense, especially with Romulus still alive. Maybe this was life now. Nothing made sense. Or she could still be dead. That was a real possibility. Maybe this was hell. Being confused all the time and always on edge. Mags opened the door wider to allow him to come in, brows furrowed together. “That doesn’t make any sense, but I was taken on a walk and given a shower and pizza by a capitol mutt with fangs calling themselves a vampire whatever that is so it’s not the strangest thing to happen.” Besides, she still had her knife. If he tried anything, she’d use it. At least this guy knew what Panem was. “So what’s happening then, if we’re not in Panem? Because I was about to win. I had Romulus, now we’re both here and alive and have rooms? I don’t understand. Did they change the rules again?”

"For once, the Capitol isn't to blame," Cinna explained as he stepped into the room. Having been gone from Pickman for almost two months, he was freshly surprised by the small space. By how cozy it was, too. His house hadn't felt like that until Katniss – and then Thomas – were in it. He told this younger version of the Mags he knew what he was pretty sure she had already learned from Astarion. Chances were fairly good that she wouldn't trust Cinna's word any more than she had his, but he had to try. "As far as the Games… maybe I'm not supposed to tell you, I don't know, but you do win, in the end. And you go on to mentor to a number of victors from Four." Not enough, of course. Only three in sixty years. "I didn't meet you until the sixty-fifth Games. When we… when we both joined the rebellion."

That was even more outlandish than the Capitol not being to blame for her current position here in this strange place. That he knew her so many years in the future. Her eyes lit up though, hearing about the rebellion. It's all she ever thought about, a rebellion. She grew up during the rebellion. They had been disorganized, weak - it wasn't enough. They could try again though. They did try again. “Okay.” She said simply. What else was she supposed to say? There weren't many options. Either she was dead, insane, this was a game, or they were all telling the truth. Only time was going to change anything. “I will kill you too if you try anything. I did not make it that far to lose now. I didn't -” She didn't need to explain. He knew. He had to. “Only three?”

Cinna would've expected nothing less. He thought of Katniss. And all the other Katnisses and Mags he'd never met, who never made it out of the Games. He nodded. "There's more. I'll tell you everything you want to know – and I'd love to meet Romulus, too, when he's ready… And you have my word I won't try anything." Not that his word was worth much, in this world or any other. "In the meantime, what do you say we get out of here for a bit? We can, ah, get you a change of clothes. Nothing wrong with what you're wearing, but it can't be comfortable." What with the blood and tears. "And for Romulus, too." Maybe seeing again that Dunwich wasn't shaped like an arena might help put her at ease?

Being out in the open didn't sound appealing, but her own clothes did. “It feels like a trick. But I can't see the point of it.” As bad as it was, the games had a point. They did, anyway. What that point was seemed to be changing into something else now. “Romulus is more trusting than me. You can't meet him yet.” Because now she wanted to protect him - if this wasn't a trick, he didn't deserve to be in danger any more than she did. Also, he had to be safe and alive until she could kill him, if she had to. To win. “What did you do? For the Capitol. What would make you want to rebel?” She asked, already heading for the door. She kept her hand in her pocket, clutching the knife.

It took considerable self-control not to put up his hands in surrender. He didn't want Mags to think he was mocking her. He also didn't want her to stab him by accident – or worse, deliberately – and that might very well happen if he started making sudden moves. So instead, Cinna let her lead the way and made sure to leave plenty of room between himself and Mags as he followed her out of the room. "I was a stylist. I suppose I still am… I did costumes for the tributes, too. It's not a thing yet, for you, I know." The Hunger Games had evolved from drab blood sport to pageantry and glitz… and blood sport. And he was complicit in that machine, whatever he said about a rebellion. He stepped out of the room, keeping his distance from Mags and letting her close the door in case she was worried he'd tamper with the lock somehow. "I joined the rebellion because something has to change. And Snow left us no choice."

Stylists, for tributes. She looked appalled at the idea, though she supposed that was the natural progression of things. This year was all about sponsors and things, following last year’s introduction of it all. With that would come more involvement, betting she supposed too, on who might win. They probably did that already, just not so openly. Now they were going to parade them around in outfits. It was disgusting, and she wondered if this Cinna person was really alright. But then, he knew all about her and a supposed rebellion. And the so-called future. “I think I’ve gone insane.” She said off-handedly. She refused to believe any of this. “Costumes for kids to parade out in before killing each other.” Just great. If she’d been drinking something at the moment, she’d have fully spit it out at the name. Snow. Snow. “Surely not Coriolanus Snow? He was just… he was just a mentor.” True, not for long. He’d been back coming up with more for the games by the time hers rolled around. “He just introduced the villages for victors, this year. And the… Tour.” She wanted to vomit again, but shook it off as they walked. “Did you win? The rebellion.”

Cinna nodded grimly. Yes, Coriolanus Snow. Once mentor, now and forever more, president. Except – "I don't know for sure," he said, about the rebellion's outcome. "Where I'm from, it's not yet over. But my friend from Twelve, the one I mentioned?" He glanced at Mags, trying to seem encouraging. "A version of her was here when I arrived. From the future." A future, anyway. He'd since learned that timelines and dimensions were hardly set in stone. "She said we win. Eventually." How far that eventuality was, or what lay on the other side of it, Cinna didn't know. He tried to push the thought out of his mind as he stepped out of Pickman and into the sun. "Anyway, this is Dunwich. Our respite from all that." He aimed a smile in Mags's direction, fully expecting it would not be returned. "Lunch first or shopping first?"

Eventually. They would win eventually and the hunger games would be over. Just not for sixty or so more years, where she'd mentor dozens of tributes - dozens of children just like herself - just to watch them die. He was keen to change the subject though, and Mags was inclined to let him. It was too much to think about. “Clothes first I think, I don't want to put anyone in there eating off their lunch.” If this place was in fact a respite from Panem, her appearance would probably be jarring. “Did I help?” She finally asked, falling into step besides Cinna. “With the rebellion.”

He nodded. "More than I know, I think. I wasn't very high up. The people who knew what was happening? Who organized it all? They knew who they could rely on." And that person wasn't Cinna, who'd been raised in the Capitol and was soft and selfish as a result. Mags, though? Haymitch? People like them were the bedrock of the rebellion. As they made their way toward the clothing store, Cinna filled her in on what he knew – of the rebellion and the murky future ahead, of Dunwich and the way this place worked. He couldn't say if Mags believed him on any of it, but since she didn't stab him, he figured there was a chance. The rest would fall into place on its own, one way or another. It always did.