#task018

While Percy was a silent and stoic man, Clémence was a proper French mademoiselle in every sense of the word, prim and proper. There wasn’t a moment that Isobel could picture her without her tight bun and permanent disapproving look. She doted on Isobel not driven by any fierce caring but to keep up appearances. She too was a Ravenclaw, her family had moved here from France at a very young age. Isobel’s mother tried to raise her to be just as much of a lady as herself, with mixed results. Isobel’s strong will and love of adventure were something she tried to tightly reign in. Behind her elegant mask Clémence hid a quick temper, something that caused issues between her and her daughter later in life.

As Isobel grew and the differences between her and her guardians became more and more apparent, it was Clémence that Isobel argued with the most. Their opinionated and hotheaded personalities clashed resulting in explosive argument that her husband was left to break up. While Percy and Clémence shared the same ideals, it was always her mother that Isobel had the most distrust and hatred for. She couldn’t stand the act that her mother put up and the way she always followed her father around without question. 

Like Isobel’s father, Clémence attempted to get Isobel to join Voldemort’s cause with them during the summer he rose to power. After finding that the soft and gentle approach didn’t work, her mother soon dropped the act and became even more cold and vicious, trying to bully Isobel into staying with them. When Isobel escaped to the castle, her mother deemed her a lost cause and never attempted to contact her again. 

PARA - Summer 1997

Isobel shut the main doors to the manor as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert the residents of the house to her arrival. She had been out all day with Anthony and Terry at Diagon Ally, trying to stay as far from her parents as possible. They knew of her home situation and tried to help get her out of the house whenever they could, something she was endlessly thankful for. With any luck her parents would still be in their study deep in discussion with their ‘associates’ – a kinder word for Death Eaters – and she could slip upstairs unnoticed.

Alas, it was not to be. Isobel had barely made it halfway up the grand staircase when her mother’s crisp voice rang out behind her. “Isobel, ma chérie, where are you going? We’ve barely seen you all day!”

Isobel paused where she was on the stairs, twisting to face her with a smile pasted on her face. Damn. “Mama! I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve been out all day with Astoria. Je suis très fatigue.” Hopefully that would be enough to get her mother off her back. She would be much more accepting of Isobel hanging with an old and respected pureblood friend than her ‘un pure’ Ravenclaw housemates. She sent a silent apology to Astoria for using her name like this.

“Bella, you’re always out with your friends. You need to make time for your parents too, tu nous manques. We had some lovely guests we wanted to introduce to you,” her mother scolded lightly, but Isobel knew the less than pleasant intentions beneath. She always pretended to be a kind mother, a loving mother, when it was obvious the kind of person she was. There would be consequences the next time Isobel snuck out.

Rolling her eyes at her mother’s act, Isobel cut her off bluntly. “I already told you, I don’t want to meet your ‘guests’.” Maybe she shouldn’t be rankling her mother but she didn’t have time for the simpering act. “I want nothing to do with whatever despicable acts you’ve gotten yourself into this time. Laisse-moi tranquille!”

Clémence’s smile dropped like a stone, instead replaced by a scowl that looked much more at home on her face. “Isobel MacDougal! Do not speak to your mother like that! Don’t you dare speak like that about our distinguished guests either! You’ve always been such an ungrateful child,” she screeched angrily. It didn’t take much to set Isobel’s mother off. “We are doing our best for this family. You will be present for our next meeting. That’s final.”

Isobel could do nothing but fume silently on the stairs. Couldn’t her parents see she wasn’t like them? Couldn’t they see what they were doing was wrong? “I don’t want anything to do with you! Why won’t you give it up! Je te desteste!” She screamed back angrily before stomping up the stairs, escaping to her bedroom before her father could get involved. The slamming of her bedroom door echoed through the house.

Je te deteste.

She was white-knuckling her own hands, shoulders slouched, going over the game plan in her head once more.  What she was going to do, when she was going to do it, what she was going to do if she made a mistake.  Of course, it all had to be perfect.  Everything was planned down to the second; there was no room for error. The number of kids in the room kept falling.

Exactly ten minutes after Bo had gone into the room, a robotic voice called out ‘Thalassa Rivers’ over the intercom system.  Thalassa stood, wiping her clammy palms on her pants, taking deep breaths as she approached the doors, pushing them open forcefully.

Although Bo had gone before her and filled the room entirely with smoke, it was unbeknownst to Thalassa, she could have never noticed. Capitol clean-up crews and air vents were magical, apparently.  She strode over to the center of the floor, to stand before the Gamemakers.  Luckily, she was in District Four, so they hadn’t lost interest just yet.  She shook the hair from her face and analyzed the Gamemakers, who seemingly didn’t notice her arrival.  Briefly, she wondered if that would take away from her time.  Knowing she hadn’t a moment to waste, she cleared her throat loudly. Despite being behind the thick wall of what appeared to be some material stronger and thicker than glass, they heard her.  There were quite a few of them; she counted fifteen quickly in her head as she walked in, there may have been more.  At least thirty eyes were on her, and would be for the next ten minutes that would determine the rest of her life, no matter how short it was.  She wondered if that would impact her performance at all.

“Thalassa Rivers, District Four.” Thalassa stated clearly and loudly for them to hear up above her. They all looked down at her, some turning to whisper to their colleague next to them, she knew, about her.  She ached to know what they were saying about her, wanted desperately to know if they were saying good things, if they approved of her from what they’ve heard so far.  Each Gamemaker nodded to the other, all the way up to the Head Gamemaker, who gave her a nod of acknowledgement.  With words cool as ice, they entered her ears, traveling all the way down her spine, through chest, clutching tightly, down to her stomach, twisting and churning, through her limbs, energizing every nerve in her body, three simple words; “You may begin.”

Ten Minutes Remaining

Thalassa bolted like lightning over to the nets, no time to watch the clock counting down to her judgement day.  From the station, she grabbed five medium sized nets (still quite large enough for a person or two to get caught in, however, and she raced back to the main floor, hastily dropping them (separately, she made sure, so they wouldn’t get tangled together) and scrambled over to the snares and traps sector.  She made her way through all the materials, looking for a trigger to set off her traps.  Finding what she desired, she took the items in her arms and raced back to the floor, throwing those to the floor, then examining the nets further.

‘Shit, dammit dammit dammit, fuck me!’ she cried out under her breath as to not let the Gamemakers hear.  The nets weren’t anything like the ones she’d worked with in training, they were barely nets at all, there was the frame of a net made out of metal wire and cords she knew were strong, but the material within, it would never hold anything, it was too thin, too flimsy.  It wouldn’t holdThey had set this up, she knew they did.  Her eyes scoped the room for anything to fix this.  New plan, new plan…

And just like that, she spotted ropes in one of the corners of the room.  Bingo. She launched herself across the room to retrieve them.  Hurriedly rushing back, she knew that this would set her back considerably, she had to be quick.  There was no time to waste.

Nine Minutes Remaining

Estimating that she had been set back nearly seven minutes, she tossed two of the five nets out of her way; there was no time to incorporate them with her plan.  She spread out the first net in front of her like a long blanket on the floor, and began tying the strips of rope to the outer frame.  She would have to construct the entire interior of the net by herself. Ah well, at least she was able to show off her knot tying skills as well. By the end of the minute, Thalassa had constructed the entirety of the horizontal side of the net, by tying the ropes parallel to one another.  The net would be able to hold she knew.  The ropes were strong enough, and even if they weren’t, her knots would be able to make up for it.  And now, for the vertical.

Eight Minutes Remaining

‘Alright, this isn’t bad, I’ve got time.’  She reasoned to herself, weaving the pieces of rope between the ones she had already tied down.  Pulling the rope in and out between certain pieces, weaving them in and out between them and then of course, tying them to the frame of the net and intertwining them with each other, it would make them stronger.  Thalassa knew that it would suffice with what she was going to present to the Gamemakers, she had managed to think of a new plan quick enough that wasn’t completely half-baked.  She wasn’t religious or spiritual, she had liked to believe that the power to control one’s destiny lain within them, but she began thinking that she may have to soon. With the first net completed, she only hoped she had enough time to finish the remaining two in time.

Seven Minutes Remaining

After completing the first net, the second came easily enough. Thalassa just repeated her actions with the first to the second, tying this down there, wrapping that around this, knotting that here.  She was on a roll!  Her experience with knots and nets and rope certainly gave her an advantage here, she’d have to thank Papa if—when—she made it home.  The skills she had learned on his boat had been immensely helpful to her in these Games, and they hadn’t even begun yet!  She was on a roll, she could do this.  She knew she could, she wasn’t even halfway through, she had time to complete her task and display her masterpiece.  It’d be okay.

Six Minutes Remaining

More than halfway through with her second net, Thalassa wanted to relax but she knew she couldn’t.  Every second was precious, not one could afford to be lost, which put even more pressure onto her than before, oddly enough. She tried to hurry, but in fear of it being sloppy and not working at all, she couldn’t exactly do that.  This task was just so mentally strenuous; she wouldn’t have been surprised if it was meant to be a mental task.  Maybe the scores just represented how well the tribute did psychologically.  Allowing her mind to wander did calm her down a bit, but she knew that she had to remain focused, finish up what she was doing.

Five Minutes Remaining

With the first two nets down, she only had the last remaining, making sure she had enough time at the end for her grand finale, Thalassa moved quicker through this one than she had ever thought possible, moving everywhere around her homemade net, moving this, binding that, interlacing this and that. The first two nets had given her an idea of how to handle the last one appropriately, and it was coming along nicely, really it was.  And if she was looking on the bright side of things (or trying to, anyway) she figured that it would give her some more practice with this kind of equipment in the arena, even if she didn’t quite need it.  Thalassa continued working diligently, eager to finish the final net.

Four Minutes Remaining

Almost there, almost there.  A little here, a little there, she was so close to wrapping this one up. Oh come on baby, come on!  And… there!  With the final knot tied, she pulled on this rope and that rope and this side, testing each net’s durability, sparing a few seconds for each net. Confident in her work, she spread the nets apart from one another, separating them with a good amount of distance between them.  Thalassa applied the triggers to each net, taking just a few seconds to adjust the sensitivity of each to her preference.  At last, she managed (somehow) to wrap a larger piece of rope about a beam on the ceiling, and use a series of knots to tie it to one of the nets, and then repeated the process with the other two nets.  There, it was all set, and now, the fun part.

Three Minutes Remaining

She was so close to her final act, to what was going to determine whether or not she would get sponsors in the arena.  She could do this.  Darting across the room, she grabbed a cart of the life-sized, human-like dummies, and wheeled them over.  Lifting two of them out of the cart, she carried them out to the first net, stood correctly enough to get some leverage, gripped them both tightly and lifting them over her stead, then pitching them over her head and to the net.  Snap!  The impact of the dummies on the trigger set off the snare, launching them up into the air. The net held, and held well, even after the dummies in there (which were of a decent size and weight) jostled around in there.  The rope wrapped around the ceiling beam didn’t let up, and Thalassa could have cried with relief.  She repeated the process with the next two dummies. Like the first trial, they were still launched into the air, and the net held strong.  Finally, she took the last dummy in the bin and walked over to the final net, to show the Gamemakers of the sensitivity of her trap.  Standing outside of the net’s reach, Thalassa lifted the dummy and barely had its feet brush the trigger, and yet it was still thrown upwards with enough force to throw her back.  All three nets were still suspended and holding, about ten feet above the ground with the way she had developed the mechanics of them.  She turned to the Gamemakers, who seemed relatively impressed, but weren’t quite there yet with the whole interest and excitement part of it all.  That was just fine with Thalassa.  If they wanted a show, she’d give them a show.

Two Minutes Remaining

Jogging over to the weapons, Thalassa grabbed a rack of spears, and brought them back over to the main floor.  Removing them from the rack, she placed some of them on the ground next to her, three in her left hand, the remaining one in her right.  Her right hand reared back as she aimed for the third dummy in the second trap.  She pitched the spear over her head and straight into the third dummy’s chest, a fatal hit.  Anyone could see that, especially with the fake blood effects pouring out of the wound, the liquid even on the blade of the spear, emerging from the dummy’s spine. Thalassa moved another spear over into her right hand, aimed for the very first dummy, and then launched it.   The spear pierced and buried itself into the dummy’s  abdomen, not a bad hit, and surely fatal.  She repeated the process again. Fourth dummy, throat.   Second, left ribcage.  All very painful and very lethal shots.  With the remaining spear on the floor, she picked it up with her left hand, ripped her left arm back, then sent the spear flying into the final lone dummy.  It hit right in between the eyes, a shot that surprised Thalassa, she didn’t mean to do that, but she tried not to let her excitement show.  The Gamemakers seemed like they were intrigued now.  She could have stopped there, taken her bow and excited, but hey, she had time…

One Minute Remaining

Thalassa grabbed one last spear from the rack and moved to the sim, setting it up for a 45 second simulation.  Getting ready for combat, she pressed start, and watched as the lifelike, virtual reality tributes move toward her.  Luckily for her, she was even better at fighting with a spear than just throwing one.  The first figure moved towards her quick enough, but she fell to the floor quick enough, turned, and stabbed the figure in the back.  The figure disappeared in a series of orange blocks.  The next tribute came towards her, and without even looking, Thalassa whipped the spear around and buried the blade in the figure’s sternum.  They continued like this for the next thirty seven seconds, hitting figure after figure. Thigh, heart, ribs.  Neck, stomach, shoulder.  Forehead, throat, an ass once.  For the remainder of the time, Thalassa didn’t miss a shot and by the end, she was surrounded by little orange blocks. She was very pleased with what she had accomplished with her time, but it wasn’t over yet. By her calculations, she should have had about fifteen seconds left.

Thalassa sashayed over to stand in front of the Gamemakers, most of whom stood agape.  She curtsied in front of them politely, and came back up, smiling toothily.