suddenly it's all real } Reaction+Arx
Aug 19, 2016 13:37:47 GMT -5
Post by анзие (Anz) on Aug 19, 2016 13:37:47 GMT -5
The water drowns out both the sound of Caesar Flickerman's exultance proclaiming Justice Fray a career, survivor, and now victor of the seventy-third Hunger Games as well as Charles Tinselton's constant recap of the Capitol's new 'hit show' featuring Katelyn Persimmon. It's hard to imagine that Katelyn would willingly subject herself to such scrutiny and objectification, or that Harbinger would throw himself at his own mentor - but the rest of those competitors Leon can imagine panting after Katelyn with ease. Down to the gamemaker.
Which begs the question: what does Snow have on two of three victors from Eleven? What purpose does this serve, besides humiliation for them and a distraction for the Capitol? And what exactly does the Capitol need to be distracted from? Or perhaps Leon thinks too much and this is all entertainment for entertainment's sake, a way to make light of the annual death toll. That would be completely predictable of the Capitol's elites - after all, him and his fellow victors were a product of entertainment for entertainment's sake, and the Capitol stealing a fuck from their feelings.
Maybe it was best, then, that Roger and Scout died before they were paraded around like playthings in a brothel, or conquests on and off the stage. Roger would lose that winning smile - the one that promised wild nights and danger - that made him so immediately lovable to the Capitol, might hide behind the amplification of his own natural personality to keep himself perfectly whole. And Scout - beautiful, angry Scout - would be torn to pieces by the greedy hands that did not have enough from him, or Katelyn and Harbinger, or Mace, or Patricia, or of even Arbor Halt.
The Capitol: a city of fuck ups consistently fucking off.
Lungs burning for air, Leon pulls himself from the bathtub floor and sucks in a long, ragged breath. Instantaneously, the once-silenced media uses its voice to say, "As victor Justice Fray recovers in the Center, we give you a recap of Justice's best moments in the Seventy-Third Hunger Games!" Water pours down his face, forcing his eyes shut; his hair clings to his face, reaching determinedly for his jawline. His breaths even and slow, and slowly Leon pushes himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel as he steps to the middle of the room, back to the television.
He's good at tuning out the voices, or at least he would be if Scout Krigel never made an appearance. But - typically - she does, and today it is to say, "Once upon a t-t-time, there was a fair maiden..."
Turning slowly to the screen on the wall, hands frozen in the towel in his hair, Leon watches Scout give up for the dozenth time since her death, stuck as always on the desperation in her eyes. She's so close to her killer, his body curved around hers. The shot cuts to one of Justice holding Scout close as she dies, together a silhouette against the red and purple evening sky; over the silence her voice whispers: "There's this prince too. Nice hair. He's okay, I guess or... or he's going to be."
With more strength than Leon thought he possessed, the empty bottle of wine beside the tub shatters the television screen. It dies with an electric fizz, leaving shards of glass all over the floor. Silence doesn't reign over the program continuing through the open door to the living area. Justice says, "And the fair maiden? Is she going to be okay?"
Breathing hard, Leon tells the broken screen, "Stupid McStupidface." Sex pox and boils, Scout whispers, and she can't say that without laughing even through her tears. His gaze catches on the mirror by the sink, and he says, "It's all your fault, I hate you." Long hair and all, with the stupid, trashy whoreface. The memory quirks up the corner of his mouth, lingering on the waver in Scout's voice then, and the whine of her constant annoyance with him.
Crossing the floor to the mirror, Leon rests his hands on the rim of the sink, meeting his own gaze. His hair hangs over his eyes, far too long and looking like disrespect. His lips form the words alongside Roger through the open door: "If you're going to be someone new, can you start now?"
"God damn it!" the words tear from his mouth, stinging pain lancing up his forearm as his fists - real and not - collide with smooth ceramic. His toothbrush and razor make a small jump at the impact, tipping off their place by the tap to fall into the basin. The white and blue and skin and silver blur together with the burning of his eyes; water and salt cling to his lashes before falling, helpless, to drain away. "God damn it," Leon whispers again, shoulders slumping to the sound of too-familiar opening tune from the speakers.
"Former gamemaker Glamour Kinkade and victor Katelyn, the star of the Bachelorette, went out on a date..."
Exhaling slowly, Leon reaches for his razor. Long hair looks too much like disrespect.
Which begs the question: what does Snow have on two of three victors from Eleven? What purpose does this serve, besides humiliation for them and a distraction for the Capitol? And what exactly does the Capitol need to be distracted from? Or perhaps Leon thinks too much and this is all entertainment for entertainment's sake, a way to make light of the annual death toll. That would be completely predictable of the Capitol's elites - after all, him and his fellow victors were a product of entertainment for entertainment's sake, and the Capitol stealing a fuck from their feelings.
Maybe it was best, then, that Roger and Scout died before they were paraded around like playthings in a brothel, or conquests on and off the stage. Roger would lose that winning smile - the one that promised wild nights and danger - that made him so immediately lovable to the Capitol, might hide behind the amplification of his own natural personality to keep himself perfectly whole. And Scout - beautiful, angry Scout - would be torn to pieces by the greedy hands that did not have enough from him, or Katelyn and Harbinger, or Mace, or Patricia, or of even Arbor Halt.
The Capitol: a city of fuck ups consistently fucking off.
Lungs burning for air, Leon pulls himself from the bathtub floor and sucks in a long, ragged breath. Instantaneously, the once-silenced media uses its voice to say, "As victor Justice Fray recovers in the Center, we give you a recap of Justice's best moments in the Seventy-Third Hunger Games!" Water pours down his face, forcing his eyes shut; his hair clings to his face, reaching determinedly for his jawline. His breaths even and slow, and slowly Leon pushes himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel as he steps to the middle of the room, back to the television.
He's good at tuning out the voices, or at least he would be if Scout Krigel never made an appearance. But - typically - she does, and today it is to say, "Once upon a t-t-time, there was a fair maiden..."
Turning slowly to the screen on the wall, hands frozen in the towel in his hair, Leon watches Scout give up for the dozenth time since her death, stuck as always on the desperation in her eyes. She's so close to her killer, his body curved around hers. The shot cuts to one of Justice holding Scout close as she dies, together a silhouette against the red and purple evening sky; over the silence her voice whispers: "There's this prince too. Nice hair. He's okay, I guess or... or he's going to be."
With more strength than Leon thought he possessed, the empty bottle of wine beside the tub shatters the television screen. It dies with an electric fizz, leaving shards of glass all over the floor. Silence doesn't reign over the program continuing through the open door to the living area. Justice says, "And the fair maiden? Is she going to be okay?"
Breathing hard, Leon tells the broken screen, "Stupid McStupidface." Sex pox and boils, Scout whispers, and she can't say that without laughing even through her tears. His gaze catches on the mirror by the sink, and he says, "It's all your fault, I hate you." Long hair and all, with the stupid, trashy whoreface. The memory quirks up the corner of his mouth, lingering on the waver in Scout's voice then, and the whine of her constant annoyance with him.
Crossing the floor to the mirror, Leon rests his hands on the rim of the sink, meeting his own gaze. His hair hangs over his eyes, far too long and looking like disrespect. His lips form the words alongside Roger through the open door: "If you're going to be someone new, can you start now?"
"God damn it!" the words tear from his mouth, stinging pain lancing up his forearm as his fists - real and not - collide with smooth ceramic. His toothbrush and razor make a small jump at the impact, tipping off their place by the tap to fall into the basin. The white and blue and skin and silver blur together with the burning of his eyes; water and salt cling to his lashes before falling, helpless, to drain away. "God damn it," Leon whispers again, shoulders slumping to the sound of too-familiar opening tune from the speakers.
"Former gamemaker Glamour Kinkade and victor Katelyn, the star of the Bachelorette, went out on a date..."
Exhaling slowly, Leon reaches for his razor. Long hair looks too much like disrespect.
LEON KRIGEL
mieux vaut prévenir que guérir
part II below
