lemon to a knife fight (georgie + flo)
Sept 27, 2024 4:13:54 GMT -5
Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Sept 27, 2024 4:13:54 GMT -5
florentine.
i am doing a lot of watching, these days. trying to fit people into boxes.
the more i try, the more difficult it becomes. at home, it is easy. there is a stark contrast between the street kids and the academy kids, the haves and have-nots. there is little middle ground; there are those that benefit from the system, exponentially, writhe in the glory of it, sleep on pillows stuffed with hungry babies every night, and those who suffer as a result of it; those who are the hungry babies.
my intentions here were simple: destroy those who deserve to be ruined, become one of them, take them down a peg, or two, or all the way to the bottom. eat their hearts, or whatever. overhaul the capitol's expectations. give the kids a chance who need a chance. take from the rich and give to the poor, you know. it's just getting complicated, trying to figure out who i should be robbing blind and who i should be helping.
georgie cham is one of these anomalies. i watch her all day, trying to make sense of it. she is the mayor's daughter, back in six. i knew this because i watched the footage of her being reaped, and the camera kept on cutting back to his face, twisted into something unrecognisable. i don't think it was an act; he was not, i have decided, in on the deal. he looked about as shocked as the next guy. but what, then, does that make the mousy-haired creature who wanders around the training centre looking like a child who's lost its mother at the market? yesterday, eulalie whispered in my ear that she's just fourteen years old. i cannot figure out what it means.
i wait until everyone else is gone before i interrupt her. i am investigating; following a trail of clues (she doesn't know the pointy end of a weapon from its handle, she hides in the library, i overheard someone saying she lives with teddy ursa, and yet--) it is a covert operation: top secret, but of critical importance.
georgie cham is hesitantly lifting a glaive the size of her own torso out of the weaponry box, staggering beneath the weight of it. i swallow my laugh and put on my serious face.
"you really don't know what the hell you're doing, do you?" i say from behind her, not unkindly, more an observation than a real question. i take a step forward, cautious, because i do not know what sort of beast i am dealing with. it is hard to believe that this child is an enemy, not really, although she is hardly proletarian. maybe her teeth have been chiselled into razor blades, and she will turn around and eat me whole.
"you're the mayor's kid, right?" i ask, although i know the answer. what i really mean is: why are you in this mess, if the system is rigged?
i point to a smaller weapon - a knife, more suited to her size. "try this one," i say, pulling it from the stack and holding it out to her. "like this, with your feet a little apart, keeps you stable." i am careful with my smile, because i do not yet know if she is a worthy recipient.