shenevermisses | 17th Throw

Hello everyone.

[The Journal camera is on, and Clove is smiling. She's dressed nicely but casually. She nervously tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she takes a few seconds to get out the next part of what she has to say. She glances away, unsure, then looks back at the camera.]

I want to apologize.

I've... made a pretty bad impression. I don't expect to undo the harm I've done, but I'm still sorry.

I wanto explain, just a little. I've been doing research lately, and I read about men called gladiators, who fought to the death for sport. I... I guess you could say I was raised to be a gladiator.

It's hard, not thinking like that. If I've... acted cold or ruthless, it's because I'm having a hard time learning not everyone's out to kill me in the end. I know I've been rude about it, and I'm sorry.

Forthose who've offered me friendship, I would be grateful for another chance at accepting it.

Again: I am so sorry. I hope I can earn what forgiveness there is to be had.

[The feed goes off.

And the act ends.

Clove glares at the Journal, a sour taste in her mouth. Three people in Luceti will recognize the girl they just saw. Cato, Twelve, and Twelve's representative will see the young woman from District Two sitting with Caesar Flickerman, her smile meant to endear her to all of Panem. Not the sexual create One presented, but something sweet. With just a little bit of a competitive edge.

Everyone else... Well. They can see what they'd like. Knowing most of them and their overbearing sense of morality? They'll think she's come around, they'll want to laud their superiority in having known all along she'd be better off thinking like them and how nice it is she's come around.

Let them think that. When the time comes, she'll still be just as capable. Just as detached from all of them. And they'll be compromised.

She can play that game.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I was the nineteenth of twenty-two to die.

So, you were defeated in battle. Well then I guess you deserved to die. [She died a warrior's death to him then. That's how it works as far as he's concerned.]

[Her cheer disappears for a moment, not replaced by anything really. Just a blankness.]

I guess I did.

Of course you did. The strong survive and the weak perish. That's simply how things work. [He's really being more matter of fact than insulting. There's a little bit of a snide tone in there but it's definitely overall just said straight to her.]

The strong and the clever. [Because Twelve and Lover Boy weren't stronger than Cato. Clove knows that. Knows it as well as she knows her knives.

But Twelve is clever. Is smarter. That's how she won and how she saved Lover Boy.] I knew going in that my chances weren't that great. Twenty-three to one.

I'm pretty sure a well trained mind goes hand in hand with the definition of strong. So by that definition you clearly lacked in one or both of those categories. [Sorry, the fact that she died just means she's weak in his eyes.]

But what's done is done. I certainly hope you take this opportunity to train a little harder now so you can avoid another death.

I'm certainly trying to, sir.

Trying isn't good enough. You should know that.

I'll only know I haven't done a good enough job preparing if they kill me. I've fought the Third Party a few times now, and they haven't managed it yet.

[She gives a smile at the camera, still cheerful, still easy-going.]

So I guess I'm doing okay for now.

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