I'm just a girl who's fighting her time

[designatedfreak]

Who| Max Guevara and OTA
What| Hiding from all the "happy" reunions
Where| Training Center, Tribute Towers, Wherever
When| During the Family Plot
Warnings/Notes|


Max had patiently allowed the stylists to dress her up and fix her one again short hair as best they could. Following orders was second nature to Max even in this confusing world; they said to wake early, Max woke early (not that she had still been asleep). Without a word she ate and then arrived for the mandatory meeting. Around the District 11 suite were strangers dressed up like they were meeting someone important. At first she believed these people to be Citizens but quickly she realized they stood out too much, looked to aware of things to be Citizens. It dawned on her that these people were from the homes of the Tributes. Family and friends come to reunite for a short time. Max anxiously waited to see who the Capitol had brought from her home, secretly hoping that Zac or Jondi would appear in the crowd. She waited.

And waited.

And waited as others hugged, cried, yelled, and even ignored the new arrivals. There was no one for her. There was a pain in her chest that she couldn't explain. Carefully she moved herself into the shadows before eventually fleeing the common room. Even Courfeyrac had someone (someones?) to greet him. Max was alone. Again. Fine, she could be alone. She was a soldier and a soldier did not get attached to the dead, and it was quite likely everyone else was dead and that was why no one had called for her in an eager voice.

Max decided that the best course of action was to maintain her schedule of training and leave the others to their reunions. There was no reason to bother her fellow Tributes just because she was lonely.

Comments

[orestes]

"We seldom have the opportunity to choose our roles. For better or worse, they are dictated by circumstance." And indeed, if things had worked out differently, one of the others would have been their chief. Perhaps they would still. Panem was not Paris, one could not expect them to need the same set of skills, however Enjolras might want to apply them.

He looked to the target where not even the brightly colored, self-healing foam could take such frequent abuse without it beginning to show. The knicks and gashes marring the colorful surface seemed an appropriate metaphor for the conversation at hand. "And what of other weapons? Venus has been coaching me in fighting hand to hand, but without a sword she still has me at a disadvantage. As a soldier, you must be good at improvisation."

[designatedfreak]

"We were trained to use anything as a weapon." She looked away from the dummy and back at Enjolras. At Manticore, he would have been punished harshly for his daring to speak out. Punished and eventually fed to the Nomalies. Speaking against authority was a frightening prospect, so Max had to admire him for his willingness to put himself in danger. She didn't appreciate that he also put Courfeyrac in danger simply by association, but her brother was a grown man who could make his own decisions. Besides, they had more claim to each other than Max had to Courfeyrac.

"Is there another method of defense you want to learn?" Max still found it odd that he would want to continue training even though he was free.

[orestes]

He considered. She would do better with Combeferre, he decided after a careful moment. While his friend didn't generally choose to address that aspect of himself, there was an edge to his improvisational skills that Enjolras frequently found lacking in himself. He could plan, but the execution of those plans required a creativity and finesse foreign to him. Fortunately, that was usually when the others stepped in.

"Nothing specific," he finally replied. It was anticlimactic, perhaps, but truthful nonetheless. "I wish that there were a way for you to teach the less skilled Tributes that sort of skill. Then they might stand a chance of survival in the Arena."

[designatedfreak]

"The idea is to survive longer than the others." The fewer Tributes with actual skills the longer she and the others could possibly survive. "I've helped Sandy." Did it count as helping others if they were her friends?

[orestes]

"The idea, my friend," he looked her over with an almost appraising sort of expression, "is to find a way so that none of us will ever have to play their miserable game again."

But that was a comment best left casual, particularly in an Area that would be so closely monitored. Enjolras looked away, abruptly feeling as if he'd said too much. "Anyway, Sandy is someone worth protecting. You should keep helping her, and anyone else who seems to be like her. We cannot afford to claim the moral high ground here, but I would not wish any of us to be cruel, either. It is a difficult balance. One that I am sorry with have to manage."

[designatedfreak]

Don't be cruel. It seemed like such an odd and small thing to say. Don't be cruel. Max had observed the people in the Capitol, she'd spent time watching vid after vid of past Arenas; it really wasn't so small or odd. There was a lot of cruelty in this world. Maybe not as much as her own, but enough that she understood what Enjolras was saying. Don't be cruel.

Max nods at him, even though he's not looking at her. This is something she makes herself promise. Only time will tell if she sticks to it.