95th Hunger Games: Victor Presentation Ceremony
Jan 15, 2024 19:49:21 GMT -5
Post by pogue on Jan 15, 2024 19:49:21 GMT -5
Victors shouldn't come from Twelve.
Geiger smooths out the collar of his peacekeeper uniform with forced stoicism laced into his blue eyes, looking at the ghost of a man in the mirror, chewing at the tatters of his reputation. Geiger Telemachus does not sweat, but that doesn't stop him from recognizing what now clings to the shadows he casts, that the crown brought home was not one that the Capitol wanted- was not what the Capitol needed.
It's known that if the forest goes quiet that there is danger lurking somewhere in the brush. In the Capitol it's much the same- if the rumors and the whispers and the sounds of a room stop when one walks in, your fate is sealed. As such, it'd meant that Decadence and himself had set to work as soon as Marik had written his crown in red. Eyvindr falls, a new victor rises, a story writes itself until a hand takes hold of the quill.
Victors shouldn't be coming from Twelve.
And yet, Marik Shadow had.
Ironic that, against it all, Geiger could respect the boy for carving his way into the only spot home. There's a feral resourcefulness there, a bloodlust, a refusal to answer Death's knocking. He's met with all three in the silhouette of a boy when he enters the suite, lingering in the doorway for a moment before shutting it softly. "Marik Shadow..." the name still sounds foreign to him in a way that the crown will soon get rid of. His eyes look towards the window now, the skyline of the Capitol cast in an orange of the setting sun.
This was the boy's place now, Twelve no more. Just as much a confinement as it was a coffin. "Welcome home." He finally says, casting a palm towards the view from the window.
The Capitol greets them both with blood- orange of the sky cast in red for a heartbeat. Geiger drops the intimidation act for a moment, glances back towards his victor and regards him with the last bit of sympathy he'll receive from the Capitol, from Panem itself. "Let's walk for a moment." An escape into a new kind of hell.
"I'll say, you could have a career in my field with the way you fought." He says as they walk the hallways, portraits of victors past staring through them. "I can respect a tribute and a cockroach all the same. Both have the wits and the will to make it longer than most." It's not a compliment, the way his words drip with a venom only the Capitol could produce. "Not that you'll have much time for the Academy, what with your schedule being the way it is now." Rows and rows of interviews lined up with the goal of Twelve being a distant memory by the time he even stepped foot back in the District.
"Smile for the crowd and the cameras, speak to the audience, you know how this goes." Geiger feigns the will of putting control into the boy's hands as they come to the final doorway between themselves and a story already written, stopping for a moment before turning and regarding the newfound victor with ice in his eyes. "A word of advice, from one piece to another." His words smell like whiskey and orange as he leans in, hard candy in his mouth and a hand on Marik Shadow's shoulder.
"There's a new game starting now, and unfortunately for the both of us... it doesn't come to an end eight days down the line." His words linger for a moment, heartbeat to heartbeat, fates shared and fates set.
"It's in your best interest to play along." He finally says, before turning away and making his way towards the stage. Behind him, escorts swarm the victor with last minute touches and tips and tricks.
Geiger stands at attention, the shadow of a microphone staining his suit, the weight of a world pressed into his shoulders. Decadence was the talker between the two of them, threading venom into her words and stitching together a story of a boy mightier than man, larger than any district, greater than anything that could be used against the two of them as a result. She was still hard at work behind-the-scenes, swarms of little birdies flitting through the citizens of Panem.
It had taken an army to twist the rhetoric, black widow socialites and brown recluse journalists and a web spun on its own. Marik Shadow is a victor, but his crown could never be seen as Twelve's to claim, could never be allowed forge a community in the shadow it cast, could never be a reminder of anything other than the blood it took to get there, to come home.
Word by word, hush by hush and whisper by whisper Marik became just as his surname clamored for- an anomaly, an underdog, an exception, a victor.
And victors, as the citizens know, should never come from Twelve.
Geiger meets the microphone and casts a glance out towards the crowd gathered before him, waiting intently for their turn to fall into the narrative, cemented to their spots on the board and caught in the game. "Citizens of Panem..." His voice sweeps over the crowd, microphone singing in the wake of an anticipation that casts itself amongst the crowd. "Tradition is what Panem was built on- and as the tradition of the Games comes to a close for the year, the tradition of a recap showing comes once more."
An applause rings out, cheers and shouts only silenced by Geiger speaking once more. He announces the stylist, escort, team members that made it all happen, that made Marik the martyr he now was. Finally, he arrives at the final destination of their journey, carving a smile onto his face.
"Finally... to Panem, to the Capitol, I hereby introduce you to the victor of the Ninety-Fifth Annual Hunger Games... Marik Shadow!"
One game ends, a new one begins.
