Just Like a Lion

no light, no light // self para

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes I never knew daylight could be so violent A revelation in the light of day You can't choose what stays and what fades away

“that’s an oversight.” she murmured, watching him move and taking stock of it. “interview outfits for mentors are for sitting in. your legs will be covered anyway. you know, by the person in front of you.” she wasn’t going to do anything, but frankly for all she cared, mentors could wear appropriately colored pj pants to the interview. it needed to be comfortable to sit in, and a good color to complement their face up top. and that was pretty much it. just fashionable enough to pull it all together when they walked away.

“not to be mean to my coworkers.” she loved lara, but lara had left seven. she wasn’t sure if she knew benny’s new stylist. “you do look great.” but if he didn’t feel great, to Clementine, that was a moot point.

.

“No, of course. I can’t imagine the kind of...” The word didn’t quite feel genuine as Benny said it. “Pressure the stylists must be under. Your career and all. During the Games.” He paused for a second, considering the slight ridiculousness of a Mentor telling a Stylist her job was stressful. It was, of course. But in a different way.

Pepper wasn’t sure if Benny was being patronizing or not, with the way he was looking at her. She wasn’t some little kid who needed to be sheltered from some harsh truth. But she did need him, and she needed him to make everyone else love her, to love her and Hazel’s story and to get the two of them as much help as possible. 

“Who, um, who do you think is our toughest competition?” she asked. “For the heartstrings, I mean.” She knew her toughest competition in the Arena was going to be the Careers. The kids from Nine were on her side and so was Knox, and so the only other physically dangerous ones would be the Careers. But people could be dangerous in other ways. Pepper thought of Amalthea last Games, and how she’d used the trust she’d been given to ruin Aspen and Holland. It had lead to Aspen’s death.

.

Benny sat back on his heels for a moment. “Well, we haven’t heard all the interviews. But there is one girl here with a child back home. That’s always a heartbreaker.” Benny shrugged. “But who knows if she’s a good speaker? That’s the thing. You can have the best story in the world, but if you don’t tell it well, no one will pick it up.”

The insight brought Benny back to his own Games, where he had stayed tight-lipped for most of it. His interview had been painfully dull - one word answers where he could, stony silence where he could not. The Capitol, surprisingly, had eaten it up. Overnight, his Mentors and Stylist had switched away from the boy-next-door to the strong-and-silent type for him, and it garnered a lot of attention.

Hazel appreciatively nodded toward the Avox as they scooted off to work on the tea. She collected her knees to her chest, placing her feet on the chair below her. “What was it like for yours?” Hazel asked brow furrowing down, “Like in the arena or like your stuff that you worked on before it?”

The Avox returned placing the tea into her hands and Hazel gave a big smile and murmured, “Thank you.” She took a quick sip of the tea and then cursed under her breath as she cupped her mouth, pulling the mug away. “Burned it,” She explained.

.

The question hit Benny in the gut, threatening to push the tea back up his throat. It was a question that almost every Tribute before asked, but it never made the answer any easier. After all, it was his job, right? To provide guidance based on his own time in the Arena?

Benny was momentarily thrust back to that time. He was eighteen again, keeping to himself. Glimpses of other Tributes - some friendly, some deadly - shook him to his core. His own score, a ten, putting a massive target on his back that he felt he was never able to shake. 

“Uh, well. It’s always hard, you know. Because every Arena is different.” What had he trained in? “To be honest, you’re probably in a better place than I was. I only had my experience out in the lumber yards working in my favor. You’ve already got some training. And to be honest, I barely used my lumberjacking in during the Games. You never know what the Gamemakers are going to throw at you.”

“I’m an early bird,” she quipped before taking a long sip of her bone-chillingly cold iced tea. Just as she needed. She didn’t have a fever that registered on a thermometer, but she still felt too hot after a night of too much liquor. As Albany explained the modifications of the roses, she nodded slowly, trying to understand. She didn’t know how these scientific modifications worked, but if they made something more aesthetically pleasing, she wasn’t going to question too much. She reached out and took the closed flower, looking at it with only mild interest right now in her hazy state. “Good to know. Do you make a lot of teas at home?”

.

“I’m an early bird.”

It was eleven am.

To be fair, Benny had been out here for quite some time, and it was easy for him to get lost amongst the flowers and trees of the gardens. He took a moment to admire the plants in front of him before turning back to Surya.

“I have a few plants I tend to in the Village. I’m experimenting with some cross breeding. Seeing if I can get some more oaky flavors out of an otherwise kind of bland breakfast tea.” It was the truth - Benny’s gardens were full of what could only be described as agricultural Muttations.

“Hey, your standards can’t possibly be lower than mine,” Slate said. He eyed him for a second, pausing in his cleanup efforts. “If you’re asking whether I’m a tribute, the answer’s no. Only thing I’m gearing up for is a long few fucking days — or weeks, who knows? — of watching the Games.” With Cecil in them. Shit. What was he doing?

.

“Oh, no, I uh. Sorry.” Benny shrugged. “I keep my head down around here. I haven’t gotten around to meeting everyone from... well, everywhere.” His story checked out - typically Benny could recognize the Tributes from the research he did. All the auxiliary staff, however, usually escaped him.

Mav loved to workout. He’d been raised in the halls of the Career Academy, after all, and as disillusioned as he was with that particular space now, his body still craved the movement and focus that exercise brought. Even after being shot in the rebellion, the horrors he’d gone through when captured — even though exercise now hurt if he pushed his body too far, knowing that someday he could push it beyond repair — he had to make time for movement in every day.

“Mind company?” he asked Albany, approaching his mat.

.

A flash of annoyance hit Albany as he was - yet again - sought out, but it quickly faded when he looked up to see Maverick. A rare smile played across his face as he sat up for a moment. “For sure! Or, I guess, no. I don’t mind.”

It was rare enough to have people working towards the same goals in this building. Many people would claim Benny was on their side - after all, weren’t they all trying to put on a good Games? Benny didn’t see it that way, though. His goal, every year, was to bring home a Victor. Not for the glory, but for the humanity. And Mav always seemed to be on board with that morality.

“I don’t think we can complain about any of our tributes’ scores, ever,” she agreed. It looked like Benny welcomed the scores relatively well, maybe even with considerable optimism. Ash did not want to muddle that with her own worries. She finished pouring both glasses and held one out to Benny, before turning back to the screen, eyeing it with guarded interest. “Five and seven aren’t bad,” she added, perhaps trying to convince herself still.

But Benny’s next question then took her mind off the scores, at least for a while. “I don’t think I did much. People liked you from the start.” There might have been a short period when the sponsors’ interest had dipped on account of Benny’s placidity, but his making it to the finale had more than made up for it. “Or maybe we just got lucky. I don’t know, I don’t think there’s always rhyme and reason behind how a sponsor thinks.” She shrugs, knowing she was being unhelpful but figured Benny would agree. “Who have you been trying to schmooze anyway?”

.

Benny sipped at the wine. He knew slightly better than to put too much stock in the scores. They had never been a great indication of success in the Arena - especially since the Games went biannual. But surely they were still... useful, right? “There’s been worse who’ve come out ahead. And maybe they will spark some conversation?”

The words washed over Albany like a cold wind. He had been “liked” from the start. Of course. “I just wish there was a formula, you know? I know there will never be. But still.” He took another sip. “I’m not even sure I’m talking to the right people. I try to go to those mixers and seem available, but no one bites. Not even... former contacts. Do you think it would be helpful if I was more aggressive? Should I be making calls, sending letters?”

“I guess. Sortof feels like telling them the wrong thing might get them killed too, though, don’t you think?” he pressed, unconvinced. A whole goddamn army fighting for them on the outside wasn’t about to save Pepper if she hesitated too long to defend herself. “Maybe I should have said it was easy. And if they got out, then apologize that I lied, because at least they’re alive.”

.

Albany’s lips pulled into a tight line. There was never going to be a good way to interact with Tributes, as he well knew. “That’s the thing, though. No matter what you tell them, they might get killed. You could mentor them perfectly - tell them everything they need to hear, teach them every skill in the book, train them until they couldn’t possibly lose... and they still might. It happens to the Career districts all the time.”

Benny shook his head to clear the fog away. “I’m a perfect example. I shouldn’t have won my Games. There were trained killers in the Arena with me - people older than me, stronger, faster, better prepared. Tributes excited to... excited to kill.” His jaw seized up for a moment, forcing him into silence as images from a decade ago threatened to reemerge into his brain. The cracks of a whip, the thuds of cannons. The screams.

“I guess... I guess what I’m saying is this: as long as they don’t feel defeated before that first buzzer rings, you’ve done the best you can. And you’ll have to forgive yourself every time you don’t do that. Because it’ll happen. You’ll fuck up. But ultimately... it’s up to them.” 

“Stressed,” Hazel admitted as she took a seat next to Albany, taking the tea offer for an invitation to chat. He seemed about as level as the rest of her mentors did; At least from what she could surmise – they all definitely had their own quirks, but who wouldn’t after surviving the Games? Hazel couldn’t blame ‘em.

Her tongue ran across her lips momentarily as she though through where to begin. What wasn’t stressful at this juncture: She had fucked up everything that would keep her alive, maybe not the ally-ships, but how would she handle things in the arena. Sure, they were all different and that’s where the trouble laid, wasn’t it?  “I think tea’s probably just the best place to start – I’d love some,” Hazel spoke softly flashing a quick smile.

 .

Albany caught the eye of an Avox from across the room and quietly signed a brief Tea? For her? Thank you! before returning his attention to Hazel. Stressed was a common enough emotion, and Benny reckoned it was an understatement. But still, she was dealing with it. That was impressive.

“They’re probably holding out on forests because they hate us,” he muttered– and there was a part of him that believed it. He wouldn’t put it past the Capitol. He fell quiet for a second, unable to shake the feeling he wasn’t able to help Pepper or Hazel in the right way. They were something he wasn’t used to grappling with– volunteers with training and an actual will to enter the Games. 

“Pepper asked me what it’s like to kill someone this morning,” he then blurted, it had been weighing on him all day and Albany would know what he was doing, right? He wanted his reassurance, maybe his approval, as usual it felt like he was doing it all wrong and that’s why nobody came home. “I don’t think I gave her the answer I should have.”

.

“... they hate us.” This drew an unsuspected chuckle out of Albany. It was probably true. To be fair, the Capitol hated everyone, but were the two of them here not included everyone? “You’re probably right about that. But hey - the odds are bound to swing in our favor at some point, right?”

 Alder’s second comment hit Albany in the chest. It was a question he knew well, and an emotion that Alder was starting to understand. There was never a good answer - ever. “Yeah. If you answered her at all, then you answered her how you should have.”

Benny grabbed a pillow off the couch to squeeze. “There’s never a right answer, Alder. There never will be. But our job? Our job is to convince those Tributes... to convince Pepper and Hazel that we gave them the right answer. That’s what they need - a sense that someone is fighting for them on the outside.”

Pepper’s fingers fidgeted with a seam on her dress - one of many seams that flounced all over the place. She’d felt ridiculous, but she’d kept calm and she’d stuck to her plan. 

“It felt good,” Pepper said. “It, um, went well, I think?” She wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to say, but she knew she hadn’t completely blown it, and that was a good place to start. But Benny knew more than she did. “Do you, um, do you think sponsors will…will like me?” she asked. She knew being liked wouldn’t necessarily get her anywhere - Lumba had been loved by everyone, and she had died before any sponsors could think of helping her, while Holland won the Games with only the most minimal support.

.

God, she was so... fragile.

It wasn’t her fault. None of this was, of course. But between the curated aesthetic of lightness and the chosen media path of “watch-out-for-me” underdog, Benny was struck by how incredibly small Pepper was. The Arenas regularly eliminated over half of the Tributes, and the scores of the Careers hadn’t even been released yet. Benny heard the break in Pepper’s voice coincide with the break in his heart.

He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “They’re going to love you.” He forced a smile to his face, though it felt as if he were forcing past a glacier in his throat. What do you say to someone, facing death, who wants to know if they are liked? What did he need to hear after his Interview?

“It’s a tough field out there. I won’t lie.” Benny gave her shoulder a squeeze before stepping back. “But you stuck to your plan, you pulled heartstrings, and you showed that you shouldn’t be counted out. There are entire groups of Sponsors who make their gifts based on that exact set of criteria. You played it perfectly, Pep. You did the hard part. Now comes my turn - to reel them in for you.”

...// task 012.

arena and support plans

“Oh, you’re here.”

Surya had an iced tea in hand, filled to the brim with ice and slices of fruit, and a visible line of sugar at the bottom that hadn’t been fully dissolved into the drink. She had a hangover that was mild enough now to go about her life, but not so mild she could do it without something cool to sip on. She wanted fresh air, so she’d gone for a walk where she was hounded by people looking to ask questions about her tributes. Snippy enough to very nearly utter a cuss at the photographers before she was able to slip back into the Tower.

It seemed the only other place for real fresh air was the garden. She sometimes felt out of place there, where the scents were not like her garden in Eight and where mentors and Avoxes worked so much more deftly than her. Still, she hoped at this time of day most others would be busy. She should’ve known someone from Seven would be trying to touch dirt.

“Do the roses need trimming?” She doubted it, the Avoxes or others likely tended to it already, but she wanted to show some semblance of knowledge. 

.

And just like that, the moment was over.

“Surya! I wouldn’t have expected you out here so... early.” Albany stood up and brushed his hands off on the sides of his pants, leaving a satisfying streak of dirt on his thighs. It was unusual to see the Capitol Mentor out and about - and certainly without either a gaggle of paparazzi behind her or a large pair of sunglasses on her face.

Benny looked down at the roses at his feet. “No, not yet. These are still barely budding. They alter them, you know. These roses will be nearly as tall as me when they reach maturity. Genus rosa catonius, I think. Unless they changed out the roses from last year.” 

He plucked an unopened flower from its stem and rolled it between his fingers before offering it out to her. “The flowers will be huge, you know. Two, three feet in diameter. But in this state, they make a mighty fine tea - great for hangovers.” 

“Now it is,” Slate grumbled, kneeling down and starting to scoop the sandwiches back onto the tray. “On an unrelated note, would you eat something that had touched this floor, yes or no?” He eyed the floor, then the man, who he recognized now as Albany.

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With enough karma dished out for the day, Benny shoveled loose meat back onto the boy’s tray. “I mean, I would, but I’m also not the best judge of character for that kind of thing.” For a brief moment, all the years of eating in the woods of District Seven flashed through Albany’s mind; how many bugs had he accidentally eaten after dropping sandwiches on the forest floor? 

Benny stood to his full height, cradling the tea in his hands. “What’s with the kingly meal? Gearing up for something?” He couldn’t quite place this young man’s face. He could be a Tribute from another district, so he felt wary. It was always iffy speaking across Districts; you never knew where the other sides’ heads were.

.

“yeah.” she nodded, slowly, because it was still a little weird when people knew her name. she never really knew what to say about it, although it happened more and more. “thanks.”

she looked him up and down, the way he was standing and how his arms fell, slightly to the left of what looked comfortable. “You don’t like your outfit.” she noticed, not even a question. “is it the fabric? the seams? the fit?” what was the problem? she always asked, so she could learn what made people uncomfortable. Always, with her pieces, Clementine strove for comfort above all else.

.

It wasn’t often that Albany felt starstruck around people - in fact, he was used to people stopping him on the streets in recognition. But Clementine was a name in the circles Benny walked in. 

Notably, she was known for her outfits being comfortable.

Benny stretched out his arms, looking himself up and down. “It’s not the worst thing she’s ever put me in,” he said. “But if I could change one thing...” He attempted to swivel his hips, accentuating just how tight the pants were. His knees were practically unable to bend as he moved one foot forward. “I just feel like... nothing can breathe south of my waist, you know? Sitting down is a nightmare.”

...// task 002.

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