Let's Hope The Victor Isn't Crazy [[OPEN]]

[cassandrine]

[ooc: i do hope inserting the image worked; something I had forgotten how to do]]

‘Idiot’ Jayna thought in contempt as she watched Wednesdae Drummond toss the head of Naveen Casovnik on the ground in front of the remaining two tributes. Drummond had something going for him in his ability to slice off a head so effortlessly; she did have to admit that. However, something about him seemed slightly… Off to her. Being a killer was one thing. Killing because you needed to, because this was in your blood, was one thing. That was acceptable. You sliced off the head, you left the corpse and you moved on to find the next victim. You did not impale the head on a stick and use it to taunt the other tributes. Especially in the condition he was in. Missing a hand and a leg, what a sight to be seen! Easy for one to look at a true warrior, a victor, and see these as scars of bravery, though they might have prosthetic Capitol limbs on them. No way the Capitol could have their victors walking around like a hoard of the living dead. No, Drummond had no mark of a victor of him any longer – just a lunatic. A lunatic has no place winning the Games. Lunatics need to find themselves on the other edge of the sword, with their heads rolling.

If this were earlier in the Games, Jayna would wonder if he were pulling an act for sponsors – something she wasn’t quite sure would work. Sure, the Capitol might love its bloody Games, with all the violence, the gore and backstabbing – but would they love someone who was completely mad? Someone they thought might, if they fancy overtook him, decide to harm one of them? Oh no. The victor must be able to do whatever it took to stay alive in the arena, and that included pleasing any potential sponsors. Lunatics usually ended up getting themselves killed pretty quickly, regardless of how lethal they were. In earlier Games, there were surely sponsors who might have helped some of the others before they lost their minds. Lifesaving medicines, precious water, lost- due to the inability to murder and keep a sound mind. Really, that was what Career training was about, wasn’t it? These other tributes had no idea walking into the arena, no idea how to keep themselves together enough to form a plan, to find allies if needed, to make themselves deadly enough so that Capitolites would sponsor them. No, some panicked and lost it the second the first tribute fell. The second they saw a shattered skull or severed limb. They asked for their own demise. Who would sponsor a sniveling little brat, one who, even if they managed to make it out of the blood bath, would more than likely never survive the second day? Those whose crying and whimpering to go home in the middle of the night gave them away to people like Jayna, who would snap their necks without a second thought to it.

Aria… What is Aria doing? Though disappointed none of the remaining tributes were from her own district, Jayna could appreciate strategy and cleverness in others. Aria, though demonstrating some weakness while killing her brother, had otherwise seemed remarkably strong throughout the whole competition. The fact that she had just chosen to attack Peridot over Wednesdae was something to her, something she was trying to see the meaning behind. Together, her and Peridot could very well wipe out Wednesdae. It wouldn’t take much, what with his missing leg and hand. He was attacking her. A swipe or two, all it would take. Take that bastard out. But no, she had turned and swiped at Peridot instead… Peridot who was attacking Wednesdae. A vicious little triangle. Hmmm. Even if she wanted to bait Wednesdae, to weaken Peridot, in her mind, Jayna figured it would be easier to off Wednesdae and turn on Peridot.

Well, watching this was enough to get her thinking about her strategies, her plans, for every possible situation that could pop up. Hesitation –it killed. Just kill. Kill and don’t regret it. From the moment their names were drawn, they knew it would come to this. It shouldn’t be a shock, and there should be no remorse. It just was what it had to be. Nothing personal. Kill the others to get yourself out alive, to bring back honour and pride to your district- something the tributes of hers had lacked this year. Soon it would be off to the Training Center with her – try her hand at the same blades she felt were almost attached to her hands at this point, review old arenas, old traps set by the Gamemakers… Soon her year would be upon her.