thecapitol | Maybe I'm a sinner and not a saint

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Maybe I'm a sinner and not a saint

Who| Jennifer Blackwood & You.
What| Open log to chat with the Tribute Comfort & Care Administrator
Where| Jennifer's office in the Tribute Center
When| Anytime this month. Feel free to specify as needed.
Warnings/Notes| N/A

With the new influx of Tributes, Jennifer has had her work cut out for her. There are so many files to memorize, so many new faces to welcome to the Capitol. It's time consuming, but she finds purpose in it, and playing welcoming committee chair is something she's rather good at. The task of putting a friendly, human face to the Capitol is difficult, but she's somehow thriving. Of course, it doesn't hurt to have so many wonderful stylists and escorts on her side for this.

And happily, she's found some recent success in terms of Tribute requests. By all accounts, Feferi's salt water shampoo campaign is a real hit, and Buddy Glass has reported his satisfaction with Junior Peacekeeper Terezi's role as a media assistant, and Justine Florbelle was apparently pleased with her medical intern, Joly. And Jennifer had just received the happy news that Albert and Jet would be allowed a special suite to share, one which would unite the second and third floors. Construction would soon be underway, and Jennifer was pleased to share the news with them. Little things like that mattered in the end. Happy Tributes meant happy viewers at home, and happy viewers meant a happy President. And that was the bottom line, wasn't it?

In spite of the work she had before her, Jennifer purposely kept open office hours to allow Tributes, mentors, and employees of the Tribute Center to visit her to petition for various requests. Everyone was welcome to see her, but Jennifer was cautious after the incident with Eponine and found she was more likely to call for Peacekeeper back up than ever before. The moment a situation seemed like it would get out of hand, she would press one of several alarms hidden around her office and alert the authorities that she was in distress. These alarms were a new addition to her office, but a necessary one. She wasn't going to risk being attacked by a Tribute again.

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This sort of reaction wasn't unheard of, but in recent months Jennifer had become accustomed to less confrontational interactions. Seeing that Cassandra was clearly disgruntled set her on high alert, just in case things spiraled out of control and there was a repeat of Eponine's attack again.

"You're a Tribute, Ms. Pentaghast. Has no one explained what that means yet? No one at all?" She was mildly disappointed, but it was to be expected. District Three was in shambles lately. She'd make a note to rectify the situation as soon as she could.

"I am aware of the pathetic excuses given. I want a satisfactory answer, followed closely by a return to where I am actually needed."

For all the anger coursing through her, Cassandra does not move closer to physically threaten the woman, simply remaining where she loomed. She understood hierarchy well enough to understand whipping the underling would hardly gain her the results she sought. It was still a possibility, of course, should the conversation go poorly enough. But not one she was hoping to step down. The woman had not done her direct harm, so as Cassandra knew. But may give her the names of those which had.

"It's unfortunate that you aren't satisfied with the answers. I can repeat the explanation of your circumstances, if that will help it sink in, but unfortunately, there's no way to return you to your world." Jennifer stood firm, hands folded neatly on her desk. "Until you achieve victory in the Hunger Games, you will serve as a Tribute in the Neverending Quell. I'd be happy to explain how that works, if you like."

"How what works, specifically?"

She isn't throwing herself into a chair yet, no matter how tempting it is. She is not certain whether to feel more enraged or weary with the same, repetitious answer. She may well have been better off attempting to interrogate a child on the street.

"The endless return to life?"

"If you like," Jennifer offered, noncommittally shrugging. She may not have fully pacified Cassandra, but she may be on her way to stalling the fury a bit. "It's a process which we're quite proud of having developed. Our scientists were very clever to have developed the method of pulling in Tributes from other worlds to take the place of our native born ones."

"By all means. Explain. The point of such, as well."

She won't understand a word of it, won't have any way to know if the woman is lying or not beyond her own gut instinct. But the woman was...accommodating. In a way it would have been more satisfying to have simply been shown the door.

Jennifer nodded, standing to cross the room to the side table where she kept a kettle with tea in it. She brought over the kettle and a pair of cups, wordlessly offering Cassandra a cup as she set about telling the tale.

"Over a century ago, our planet was nearly destroyed. From the ashes of that destruction, the nation of Panem was founded. Unfortunately some of our citizens decided to start another war. After a brutal and violent struggle, the rebels of the districts were defeated, and as a reminder of their insubordination and the folly of war, the Capitol enacted laws which mandate the Hunger Games." She paused, adding sugar to her cup. "Recently, it was decided that reaping native born Tributes was a waste of our precious human resources, so our scientists developed a method of reaping Tributes from other worlds."

"One which you claim works in only a single direction. To bring us here, but to never return."

Cassandra is not an actress. She could not hide the level of disbelief in her tone even if she had tried. Though, honestly, she'd rather respect the woman more if she admitted there was a way, but the Capitol would not be using it. Politically unwise as it may be, there was a great deal to be said for the truth.

"That's correct. The only known method for return is death. And unless death occurs in an Arena, it's considered permanent." That was an important distinction to make. Simply dying wouldn't do the trick. If it did, then some of the Capitol's problems with their new Tributes would be solved.

Well, it was a note to remember. To save face, if nothing else, death could only happen on their terms.

It's with a scowl but, finally, she does lower herself into the seat on the other side of the desk. For the moment, at least.

"And you know this how, Blackwood?"

"Our scientists have yet to relocate any of the Tributes we've executed outside of the Arenas on subsequent sweeps. They may yet develop a method of location, but as of yet, there is none." She tilted her head, smiling pleasantly. "And it's Mrs. Blackwood, thank you."

"Mrs. Blackwood. For the entertainment of your people, you have torn people from the service of their own...with no way to earn their passage home. All for your benefit alone. This is the story I am to accept."

There is no smile, pleasant or otherwise. But for all that the woman before her is a slip of one...she is being watched. Not that that knowledge stops her from gripping the arm of the chair far too tightly.

"Not for the benefit of the Capitol," she replied, shaking her head. "But for the betterment of all of the people of this world. By using off-world Tributes, we can increase productivity in the Districts exponentially and improve the lives of every citizen of Panem." If her tone was to be judged, it was clear that she was simply parroting the standard phrases. What else could she have said? Why risk herself for Tribute she hardly knew at all?

No, that wasn't right. Jennifer felt the pangs of guilt inside. She looked at her cup, then back at Cassandra. She had to say something else.

"Listen, between you and me, there is a way for you to get back."

"Is that so?"

She doesn't have to feign surprise- and a good thing, considering her acting skills. But 'between you and me' likely meant 'between everyone listening' as well, so she isn't willing to be too enthusiastic just yet. If it were 'play nice and it will work out' she may just have to storm out of the room before she was forced to throw the desk on top of the other woman. Still....

"I am listening."

Jennifer nodded, closing her eyes. "I'm not clear on the details exactly, but it's been said that if a Tribute is uncooperative or puts on a bad show, they often aren't resurrected after their deaths in the Arena. You see, when Tributes are killed in the Arenas, they return immediately to their home worlds, where they remain unless and until our scientists bring them back. And they are unlikely to bring back an unpopular Tribute, or one who hasn't put forth a decent show."

"And what proof has been offered? That they are returned home."

It was far to simple a solution. Put on a poor show, return to your former life? Surely everyone would have taken the option were it really there. It must be some platitude, some nice lie offered to the masses instead of the truth.

"We've have Tributes who've experienced exactly that. Gabriel, for example. Jason Todd is another. Pruna was a third. Beth Greene a fourth. All of those Tributes were killed in the Arenas and returned to their homes before coming back to Panem, and they retained all of the memories of here as well as of their home worlds." Jennifer spoke gently, but her words were firm nonetheless. "It's a tough pill to swallow, but I don't have any reason to deceive you. You're free to ask any of them for confirmation."

"And the ones which do not return?"

She is not satisfied, clearly. But while it may not be the fault of the woman before her, it will not change the fact Jennifer was the current face of the power which had forced them here. So some souls believed they had been returned for some time- it was certainly nothing a demon could not manage.

"I personally can't say what happens to them after the decision has been made not to revive them. But I can look into it, if you like." Jennifer didn't have the answers Cassandra was seeking, but she was sincere enough in her resolve to do her best. She might not always like her work, but she was committed to excelling at it.

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Maybe I'm a sinner and not a saint

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