The Victory Tour draws to a close in District Twelve for the first time in a generation and, as Haymitch Abernathy is presented to the crowds jostled in to the town square, he finds himself face to face with Maysilee’s family. Naomi Donner looks so very much like her sister that Haymitch finds himself longing for the bottles of liquor patiently awaiting his return (it was ludicrously simple to develop a taste for the stuff in the past few weeks.) The resemblance between the girls is so keen, in fact, that it is entirely possible to believe that an alternate reality has prevailed; that the Capitol has allowed for two Victors instead of just the one.
(Twice as many tributes, why not twice as many Victors? But that wouldn’t be soul crushing enough, would it?)
The speeches drone on, and Haymitch notes the subtle differences that separate Maysilee from Naomi, the memories from reality. His ally had had cautious eyes that took in every inch of their surroundings (how then had she failed to notice the birds that killed her?), while her sister stares ahead straight ahead, meeting everyone glance for glance. Maysilee’s hands were sure and steady, but Naomi’s are shaky and restless. At some point, as if she’s unaware of doing it, she unclips a small golden pin from her dress and clutches onto it, her knuckles turning white.
Suddenly it is Haymitch’s turn to speak, to acknowledge the losses of the tributes’ families, to see this annual train wreck to a close. Tradition requires he must pay particular attention to the memory of Maysilee. He says some words in honor of her, he’s not sure what, but they must be pretty because Mrs. Donner smiles through her tears. Naomi does not quite mirror her mother, but something behind her eyes softens as she regards him for a long, long moment. Her fingers relax around the pin and Haymitch sees now that it’s crafted in the shape of a bird.
That should be enough to make Haymitch dwell on Maysilee’s death (and he will, he has) but his mind drifts back further in time still. His eyes are drawn the sharp edges of the un-clipped pin, highlighting its potential as a weapon, and Haymitch remembers Maysilee. Remembers her resourcefulness, her dark laughter as the days wore on, and her backpack full of poisoned darts.
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timeasmymeasure
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(Twice as many tributes, why not twice as many Victors? But that wouldn’t be soul crushing enough, would it?)
The speeches drone on, and Haymitch notes the subtle differences that separate Maysilee from Naomi, the memories from reality. His ally had had cautious eyes that took in every inch of their surroundings (how then had she failed to notice the birds that killed her?), while her sister stares ahead straight ahead, meeting everyone glance for glance. Maysilee’s hands were sure and steady, but Naomi’s are shaky and restless. At some point, as if she’s unaware of doing it, she unclips a small golden pin from her dress and clutches onto it, her knuckles turning white.
Suddenly it is Haymitch’s turn to speak, to acknowledge the losses of the tributes’ families, to see this annual train wreck to a close. Tradition requires he must pay particular attention to the memory of Maysilee. He says some words in honor of her, he’s not sure what, but they must be pretty because Mrs. Donner smiles through her tears. Naomi does not quite mirror her mother, but something behind her eyes softens as she regards him for a long, long moment. Her fingers relax around the pin and Haymitch sees now that it’s crafted in the shape of a bird.
That should be enough to make Haymitch dwell on Maysilee’s death (and he will, he has) but his mind drifts back further in time still. His eyes are drawn the sharp edges of the un-clipped pin, highlighting its potential as a weapon, and Haymitch remembers Maysilee. Remembers her resourcefulness, her dark laughter as the days wore on, and her backpack full of poisoned darts.