thecapitol | it's never ever too late [open]

WHO| Ariadne and whomever wants to visit her
WHAT| Ariadne is musing to herself on the various occurrences of the Arenas.
WHEN| the night of the closing ceremonies.
WHERE| the training centre rooftop.
WARNINGS/NOTES| none right now.

Ariadne still wasn't entirely sure about all of this. All of this...killing, and maiming, and the fact that they were all brought back. What was she supposed to think of that? About the fact that somewhere out there in the world, someone was more than likely concerned with where she had disappeared off to; about the fact that she had curb-stomped a man to death on the opening day of the second Arena.

It was like everything that the Games were was suddenly rolling up on her, crushing her with implications and accusations that she had changed; that if she hadn't already, she would. There was a lump in her throat as she stared out at the glittering abyss that was known as the Capitol, hot tears barely pricking her eyes and refusing to fall.

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She nodded simply, understanding that notion well enough; there were numerous reasons why she wasn't down at the parties, and she tended to actually manage them well enough most of the time. Though she couldn't claim to know Haymitch all that well, she had heard the odd murmur about him, not that she would judge him based on something as simple as that.

Ariadne cracked a half-smile for a moment, meeting his gaze for a moment before shrugging a little. "I suppose it's fairly obvious. Similar reason, actually. I've never been that comfortable at the parties around here."

For some reason, she felt the need to explain. She didn't really know why.

"Guess we're similar," Haymitch replied gruffly.

Of course, he hadn't been comfortable at the this parties almost...ever. In the beginning maybe. Before they represented something more sinister to him. But for almost 24 years now, he'd been forced to suffer through them.

He looked at the ground, chuckling lightly to himself. Bet Snow enjoyed watching him crash and burn like he had.

"Better be careful," he warned, half jesting and half serious, "It doesn't get any better when you're a Victor."

She studied him for a moment, curious as to what he meant by that. Though she knew just as well that Shepard had been having a horrible time as a Victor and subsequent mentor; she could only imagine actually having been a Victor in the Hunger Games proper, rather than this mess of improperly used technology.

"I'll remember that, on the off-chance I ever win," Ariadne replied, voice a little bit dry. It wasn't that she doubted her abilities, it was more than she had a feeling the Gamemakers didn't like letting people win all that much.

"So little confidence in yourself girl," he chuckled, a dry tone to return hers. Every arena was getting more and more tributes, and while she was smart, she'd barely even registered on his radar at first. Not someone he would have put his drink down for.

Of course though, opinions can change. And she'd started to change his.

"It's less a lack of confidence in myself, and more that I know I can't necessarily take out the other Tributes by sheer force alone. Two Arenas, and I've only made it halfway either time," she explained quietly, thoughtfully. She was being realistic, accepting that unless she figured out a working strategy, she'd be doomed to the Arenas forever. Of course, until then, she had all the time in the world.

"Then don't use force," Haymitch criticized, as if the option were easy. It was never that easy, even he knew that. And sometimes, the consequences of those options greatly outweighed the rewards.

They didn't have family here. She didn't at least. There was no way to punish them beyond hurting them physically, "Use your head girl. It's obvious you're not getting any awards for strength anytime soon."

Ariadne merely tipped her head to one side, deciding that a mentor from another district was better than the two addicts she'd been given. Really, it was no wonder she wasn't doing well, when she was all but expected to figure it out on her own.

"Strategise until I can either take them out, or-" She paused, frowning a little, "Let them take each other out?"

"Bingo."

Strategy was more important in the Games than many realized and it wasn't often Haymitch gave that much away. Especially when most of his tributes before had been underfed children. Now though, a lot of these tributes were older. They had a brain cell or two, "If you want to survive long enough to have a chance, you have to weight your risks and your rewards. Luckily for you, you have a chance to learn from your mistakes."

Was there a bit of bitterness that no matter what these tributes did, they'd always get to come back? Probably. He'd never see Maysilee again. Or any of the District 12 tributes he'd mentored before Katniss and Peeta.

It sounded like a good idea. Within reason, of course - she would need to make sure that, given the opportunity, she could take out the more dangerous Tributes on her own. It would be much easier to kill the weaker Tributes while they were off their guards.

She cracked a small smile, tipping her head slightly at him. "I do. It's too bad we don't get to know what the Arena is like in advance, but I suppose that would take too much of the surprise away." Her eyes were focused on him, trying to read him. It was difficult; he seemed too guarded for her to get much out of him. Really, the fact that he was giving her anything at all seemed amazing.

Haymitch gave a rough laugh. Yea. Too bad. The thought got the wheels in Haymitch's head turning and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Ruin their fun and games," he grumbled bitterly, pulling out a napkin with something in it. He'd been saving this tonight. For someone. His own tributes wouldn't need it; he'd already gauged them. He needed to find other outside of his district. People who were thinking about a bigger picture.

"They really don't like when people don't do what's expected of them."

A warning.

Her eyes moved to him, blinking slowly, dropping briefly to the movement near his pocket. She'd been playing nice so far anyway: playing things up for the camera despite not being very good at it, making small plans to play up as much as she could with the limited ability to plan that they had.

"I don't blame them for that. It would go against everything they're trying to achieve here," Ariadne mused in casual response, her voice dropping softly, a bit wry. "Though I'm still not sure what exactly that is."

it's never ever too late [open]

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