[Open]

[conifer]

Who| Emily and YOU
What| There's a new mentor in town
Where| Various locations in the Training Centre
When| A few days after the end of Arena 12
Warnings/Notes| No warnings inherent. Prose and brackets both welcome.


a) District 7 suite - mostly for D7, but feel free to crash the pancake party otherwise

Every available surface of the common room is covered in silver platters laden with pancakes, along with various fruits, nuts, sauces and syrups to top them with. In pride of place are several large jugs of maple syrup, one of District 7's main exports, and Em might get a little offended if her tributes eschew it entirely. She'll give a reserved, polite smile to anyone who walks in, mentally sizing them up and trying to figure out if they have any chance in the Arena at all.

"Hello, there. I'm your new mentor."


b) Training Centre - open to all

She's positioned herself near the survival station - campfires, ropes, plants of all sorts - a place that's not nearly so popular as throwing around a sword or axe, but the one where she feels most qualified to give advice. She'll happily talk to any tribute that comes in to train, whether they belong to her district or not: as much as she wants to guarantee a District 7 win, she's not going to put the other tributes at a disadvantage before they've even got into the Arena. She's had enough of that duplicity for one lifetime.


c) Rooftop - closed to Jason Compson

Even out in the districts, Compson is a name that brings recognition, but only vaguely so far as Emily's own knowledge goes. She's fairly sure that he used to be the escort for District 10 - Calder's district, she thinks with the twinge of bitterness and shame that always runs through her thinking of him - and that makes her feel even more nervous about meeting with him. She tries to push it aside, to assume her usual mask, knowing that they'll be working together now, and that both of them surely have the interests of their tributes at heart.

She rises on hearing footsteps approaching the bench she's seated on in the rooftop gardens, offering a hand for him to shake, if he so chooses.

Comments

[whatisay]

"I hate to suggest this, but it might help if you try using a softer touch than I do." It's not that Jason thinks they deserve kindness, but it's that sometimes he knows when his methods are less effective than he needs them to be. "Good cop, bad cop and all that."

He chews his tongue as he thinks. "Didn't mean offense to you by suggesting it."

[conifer]

Emily nods agreement. "They seem like they're easy enough people to be nice to." Just as long as they don't cause too much trouble. "I just hope they're taking this seriously. They get to come back to the luxury of the Capitol after they get killed in there, I'm not sure if they really understand or care how important this is to my district."

She's fairly certain Jason doesn't particularly care on that count either, but at least he'd be working for a win regardless.

"It takes more than that to offend me." And she's aware that she's in the minority of victors who haven't had brute strength and a Career pack to help them. "I just think it's worth our while to keep tabs on all of them, even if we focus on one or two in the beginning, so we can change course if we have to."

[whatisay]

"Of course they don't. Gratitude is entirely beyond them. I get that they're all trapped here but you'd think we keep them in dungeons wearing hairshirts for all the whining they do."

Jason frowns and nods, as if in sympathy for Emily; the Tributes here eat better than he does at his own home. That Emily's referring to a standard of living several rungs below that seems entirely beyond him.

"Agreed." He exhales vapor through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. The cigarette smells like someplace he's never been, positioned safely in the nest of the Capitol and making only occasional ventures out to District Eleven for business. "So. Loki seems to think he's our big champion, him and Cassian. I got my reservations about them both."

[conifer]

Now that was something that offended her. She wished she could put them all straight on a train to District 7, realise how good they had it here, and understand what they were fighting for. But she knows that's not a possibility, and she needs to let it go. She breathes in deeply, again inhaling the fresh scent of the forests, pushing back the homesickness that washes over her at the smell. "...Do you have another one of those?"

She crosses one leg over the other, propping her elbow on her knee and leaning her chin in her hand thoughtfully. "Any of them you don't have reservations about? We could work backwards from there."

[whatisay]

"Just the one." He wipes off his with a handkerchief and then hands it over to her. "Click the button to vaporize. Don't think I won't be asking for the favor back later."

He shakes his head. "I have reservations about everyone. It's a matter of principle. Anyway, I wanted your input on something. Since our Tributes can't see beyond their own noses, I was thinking that when each one of them dies they can record an apology to your people. If they aren't going to feel guilt naturally we may have to force them."

[conifer]

She pushes the button, inhaling the vapor deeply, revelling in the scent for just a few seconds before her lungs overfill and she begins coughing and sputtering, holding her free hand to her chest as though that will do something to stem it. When she's able to breathe again she feels her cheeks reddening, and she smiles across at him ruefully. It's probably pretty obvious she's never smoked before. "I guess I should take it slower, huh?"

She's quiet for a moment, turning over the idea. Even if they hated apologising, if it was done right, it would certainly get District Seven on their side, and quell some of the sentiment of unrest. "I think that's a good idea, though we'd have to be careful about how we present it to them. The last thing we need is them resenting us even more."

[whatisay]

"I just assumed you knew what you were doing." He takes the cigarette back and wipes it off again, taking a deep drag that would probably suffocate Emily. It's been a habit for a few years now, a way to drown out the impending headache that always seems about to go nuclear in his head.

"District Seven? Why, what do you know about what's going on out there?" Jason's never been, never seen the reason to. He looks honest to god worried.

[conifer]

"I haven't smoked since the last time I was in the Capitol," she admits. It had been a habit borne from the stress of having to mostly just watch and wait for her tributes to die. She expects she'll start again soon enough. Besides, the different culture of the Capitol made her more prone to vices anyway. "It's just ... it smelled like home."

"No, no-- the tributes," she says quickly. "I'm sure they hate us enough without having to force an apology, so we'll have to suggest it in the right way." She looks as alarmed as he does at the idea of unrest, though, fearing what retribution the Capitol might bring to District Seven if anything started there. "It's all right. I think everyone there's too scared to start anything. Between working with axes and having forests to slip off and whisper in, Seven's always had more Peacekeepers. People are unhappy, of course, but they're not stupid." At least, Emily sincerely hopes not.

[whatisay]

"You know, they make air filters for that," he cracks.

"Might come across better if you suggest it. They'll probably keen in on the fact that you've got a softer touch than me." He nods. "You got family there, right? That's the collateral, right?"

It's almost conversational, detached, as if talking about losing family doesn't carry any weight at all. It doesn't, really, for Jason. He hasn't cried at a funeral since he was five and angry that one of the adults who most spoiled him wasn't around anymore to give him candies. He hasn't missed his departed relatives and he can't imagine he'd miss any he could still lose.

[conifer]

"I'll look into them," she replies dryly, now that she's finished coughing. She sits up straight, clears her throat, makes do with catching the scent from his vapor instead. "A message, then. To the people of District Seven. And if they don't sound remorseful enough we'll keep them re-shooting it until they do."

She nods, the worry still in her expression. "Three brothers. One older and two younger. There was another Victor from Seven a couple of years after me. Her family was killed because she didn't cooperate, I'm not risking that."

[whatisay]

"Exactly. I'm not stupid enough to think we should let any of them on the air. That's just courting disaster." He smirks a bit. "You can ask Swann Honeymead about the perils of live television. There's a reason she's an Escort now and not the talkshow host she used to be. Did they air Stylistic back in District Seven?"

Again, Jason seems relatively ignorant of the vast difference between qualities of life in the Capitol and in the Districts.

"Three brothers, damn. I think if I had three I'd lose my mind. Two was enough to put me halfway into an institution."

Families, right? Nothing but trouble.

[conifer]

Emily shrugs blankly, the name meaning nothing to her. "We get the Games broadcast, of course, and Capitol information films." More like propaganda films. "Just static the rest of the time." It's not like the people in her district had time to sit around and watch television anyway, they were too busy working in the forests under the watchful eye of the peacekeepers.

She smiles fondly at the thought of her brothers. "Oh, they're not so bad. The younger ones can be a handful, but I don't know what I'd do without them."

[whatisay]

"If we didn't have television I think I'd practically be down a parent," Jason says, unaware of how much some of his comments scream about parental neglect. He takes a last drag of his cigarette and then presses the little button on the side, tucking it into his pocket next to a pen and his glasses.

"Probably have more of your Victor's winnings for yourself, I'd imagine." He's never been fond of his siblings, outright loathes at least one and maybe all three.

[conifer]

She can't help but feel pity for him then, thinking of how closeknit her family were, how the constant presence of television programming would have only served as a distraction to that. She's sure her pity shows on her face, though she covers it up somewhat with a sadness as the scent of the trees goes away.

"Sure, but I'm not sure what I'd do with them." When you'd been used to being poor, there was only so much you could imagine spending money on, after the necessities had been taken care of. "And it means they never have to claim tesserae. I like being able to provide for them."

[whatisay]

Jason isn't watching her face, so he doesn't notice the pity, and all the better for it - he likely would have taken it as an insult, as reproach to the fragile pride he so viciously defends. He's watching the sky, the lazy trails of birds coagulating into a flock and then scattering again.

"It's an underrated thing, providing for people. There's not enough thanks for it." He thinks of his paycheck, draining each month into his mother's account. He thinks of the money she spends on snake oils, on servants to keep Benjy occupied. He thinks of that money and he imagines it as some great tendriled vine trapping his feet and locking him forever into this city, this life.

[conifer]

She supposed that here in the Capitol, where everyone already had everything, people didn't appreciate the help others gave them. But her own family and the people of her district thanked her every day, treated her almost as some sort of hero for sharing her bounty with them. She didn't feel like a hero, just a coward who'd been trying to save her own skin.

"Overrated, where I come from. But necessary."

[whatisay]

"You don't get any thanks here, at least not anymore that's necessary to slip the money out of your pocket and into theirs." Jason sighs and it actually sounds genuine, exhausted, as if he's been hollowed and burned out not from the difficulty of the work but simply from the fact that there's no end in sight. All the years of future drudgery have already taxed him; his hopelessness tired him out more than any work hours could.

"And don't expect any thanks from the Tributes either, like I say. If you're all tired out of being overrated, these charges will fix you up pretty quickly."

[conifer]

"It sounds refreshing." Among many other things. She felt very daunted, and less eager to meet her new batch of Tributes by the minute. It sounded like the very opposite of her previous mentoring experience, filled mostly with tributes who'd hung off of every word of advice she could give them, knowing the dire consequences for both themselves and their District should they fall in the Arena.

[whatisay]

"The way you say it, I'd expect that they were parading you around on a palanquin." He checks his watch, the one engraved with a forefather Jason Compson's name. "I've got to get running. I have a meeting with a potential Sponsor to suffer through. He wants Beth Greene for diet pills."

He gets up. "Glad I'm not alone on this team anymore."

[conifer]

That's only a bit of an exaggeration, and something she could easily envision the poorest in Eleven or Twelve doing with their Victors. But she doesn't think making a point about that right now will win her any points, plus she's wary about the Capitol watching both of them.

She stands when he does, looking fairly satisfied with how this introduction has gone, confident that she can count on him as an Escort. "You're certainly not. And please do come to me if there are any problems, or anything you need of me."

[whatisay]

"Naturally." And he will. The few weeks he's been doing this solo have already taken their toll on him. He's eager to let someone else shoulder a little bit of the burden.

With that same graceless, purposeful gait, he heads back inside.