Emma Izar vs. Maya Fel [D11 Debate]

[Lyn𝛿is]

walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain
though your dreams be tossed and blown

•••

"We had each other. That's how we got through it."

The moderator had turned to me as soon as we finished exchanging the usual pleasantries. I fold my hands together as I answer, pressing them against the rough wood of the podium. We'd spent the previous night around newspaper clippings spread against the kitchen table, freshly inked ones with Ikaia's and Maya's speeches next to brittle, older pieces about Kirito's events or Maya's previous campaign. Two heads are better than one, Vasco had said, the kerosene light glowing between us long after we'd put Yani to bed, and we could hear Sofia's snores through the wall.

They must know what I'll say already, I think. We'd buried four nephews, one niece, and one daughter in the tribute cemetery, and others in the Izar graveyard. It was half of what we were known for, having so many of us reaped that some of us figured they were still trying to punish us for abuela's rebellious brothers.

"The hard part isn't the mourning. Getting dressed in black clothes and watching my daughter's body get lowered into the ground was painful, but it wouldn't be right to call it hard. It's a lot harder to get up the morning afterwards, and the morning after that, with no idea what comes next. It's those days that," - dragging Emmanuel out of the river, blood pouring from his wrists; laying a hand across Sofia's neck, to warn her not to go taking her rage out on the wrong people - "when we think we got life all figured out, days that come around and make us start all over again."

"I never thought about how, really." Until we discussed how this was the sort of question that shows up in debates, I add silently. "I just -" It didn't make any sense to think of their deaths as something to get past instead of accepting as another piece of our family's story. I list them off in my head, swallowing down a familiar lump in my throat. "There didn't stop being the same choice every day when we wake up, of how we're gonna keep living."

"You look at the world, and you realize how unfair all of it is, and you've got a few choices." There had been Deval, drowning himself in moonshine. Sampson with his fertilizer and explosions and hate. Bakar, harsh and unyielding. "You can try and destroy it all. You can look at the people society steps on the most, and hope that misfortune comes to them instead of you."

Today, I'd removed my wedding ring from its usual chain and slipped it on my finger; I spin it around now, gaze fixed on its colors as they catch the shifting sunlight.

"I choose to love."

"Even if it hurts, to see a world that doesn't care." Yet Vasco is my world, I think, recalling the sensation of his hand squeezing against mine, and wishing so hard it'd be enough that we'd brought it into being, in our little house by the river. "To see people suffer, and -" I stop before the treasonous words to see on TV how people worship the Gamemakers causing it slip from my mouth. "- and not be able to solve it," I finish instead.

"I volunteered here to debate because I support my husband, and I stand behind him in his campaign for mayor, every step of the way. I want a district where everyone is united, where we rise above fear and envy to help our neighbors get through hardship together. And I believe in Vasco to make that happen."

•••

walk on, walk on, with hope in your hearts
and you'll never walk alone
you'll never walk alone

[lance]

There was nothing wrong with a good sob story. They tugged at people's hearts, they drew empathy out from the basic human emotion of compassion, and above all, it was the best way to remind the world that, above all, you yourself were not a figurehead, but a person as well.

The Izars had suffered more at the Capitol's hands than just about anyone aside from perhaps the Miristiomas and the Rhodes in the past twenty years. She remembered the names, too, like she did any unfortunate soul to lose their lives in the arena - Benet, chosen for death when she was twenty five and newly married. Iago, volunteering to save a cousin or something like that. Levi, another volunteer, only this time there was no relative to rescue. Salome and then Raquel, back to back volunteers to continue the family tradition. And then Gabriel, chosen through chance for the first time in nearly fifteen years just a couple of years ago.

There was no denying the suffering that Vasco had gone through, no denying the raw, unadulterated grief that his wife was feeling that she saw was as genuine as it was playing for the cameras. But half of those cases had been entirely preventable, a boy and and a girl playing as god and volunteering for a spot that wasn't theirs while another girl tossed herself in the ring as a sacrifice for her district as a whole. And while losing six members across two generations would have been sketchy to begin with if each of them were chosen at random, losing half of those by choice raised other questions entirely.

But now was not the time to ask such things. She wouldn't stoop so low as to suggest that, at least not on national television.

Tragedy could make one strong, could make them truly the best person to rise into a crisis. And if it was Vasco Izar and his enigmatic air when it came to his campaign that beat her fair and square, then she'd do exactly the same thing that she did with Kirito and support him all the way until the next five years were completed. But first, she had to determine if he fell into that category of the leader born through trial and suffering, or if he fell into another one altogether.

"Let me start off by saying that I am truly sorry for your losses, Mrs. Izar," she began, truthfully, compassionately. Just because she hadn't personally suffered such a tragedy didn't mean she had to be a stone-hearted bitch about it. "Though your husband and I might be competitors for now, my condolences still reach out for him, for in the end, we are both trying to do what we think is best for our home and our families."

She stiffens, tender Maya shifting into business Maya in an instant. "But the fact does remain that we are competitors, and that there are several things about his campaign that I remain unaware of. I completely understand that it is hardly customary to share the inner workings of your election campaign with the very people trying to claim victory for themselves, but the fact remains that aside from this goal of yours preaching about unity, which, while a noble one-" on this, both Maya and Vasco could agree "-hardly explains how you plan to accomplish it. So, under the assumption that you volunteered to debate me possessing full knowledge of your husband's plans, I ask you this, Mrs. Izar." She paused, breaking away from the cameras to look the other woman directly in the eye. "How do you propose to achieve this ideal world of peace and unity? What are your plans for dealing with the economy and making sure that the poor don't have to go to bed every night wondering where their next meal comes from? How to you propose to keep our crops growing well and our harvest to remain bountiful while you're preaching love and support? How do you propose to deal with infrastructure and prevent our homes from collapsing all around us?" She paused, taking a breath. "I have plans for all of these and more, which I have stated again and again in campaign ads across the District and am gladly willing to repeat in case you don't remember. But all I hear, time and time again, from your husband is a willingness to help the people, not a plan detailing how."

Her gaze switched back to the cameras, and there was something fierce in her expression. "Is this a plan you and your husband have thought out? Or is this just another vague promise that hinges upon the people of Eleven simply taking your word for it with no solid reasoning as to why?"

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