Pocket Full of Posey // [Mayor.Victor.Tribs]

Mayor Marlboro McFadden

It's a good thing that Mace knew who the lad was, because though I do not like to associate myself with peacekeepers and their ilk, I find myself having to use their skills every now and then. Being a mayor is not the easiest job and sometimes, sometimes the people want to take out their anger on you, even though you have no say in which children are carted off. I have not been in top for for many years and having to use a cane to get around doesn't help. I don't know how good Mace is in a fight these days, but it has been six years since he came home. He did well in the bloodbath, good for the rest of that week, and was the last one standing out of the four tributes on that iceberg. But I am reminded that he fainted soon after delivering the final blow to the boy from six. If an angry mob formed to take these children back, I doubt that the two of us would last very long. Thankfully, the Clark boy seems to only be interested in bringing up the rear. Mace decides to familiarize himself with the girl and tells the boy to walk with me. It's closer to a command than a suggestion and the children comply. I'm of the opinion that Mace saw the same thing I did, and has decided that if only one of these children can make it home, the girl might have a better chance.

The depressing thing is that the boy seems to have realized this too. He looks up at me and by the moisture in his eyes I think its clear that he's either been crying or is trying very hard to keep from doing so. He thanks me for deciding to accompany him, citing what landed on the escorts shoes as another reason it was good that I was with him. The reapings are different every year, and the tributes reactions are generally the same. Fear. Acceptance. Horror. Mantel's reaction is no different. He whimpers about things giving out on him, and I am told that he worries about his brittle bones. A pang of sympathy crosses my face. If he suffers from that condition it wouldn't take much to kill him. A few well placed punches to his sternum and he's coughing up blood, let alone a sword slash or an ax strike. He's right to be afraid, right to believe that he's not coming back. I struggle between offering him a small hope and keeping silent before my compassion gets the better of me. I stop and put my hand on his shoulder before coming around in front of him and looking down into his scared, adolescent eyes. "I suppose you've already made up your mind about not coming back eh Mantel?"I pat his shoulder and give him a small sad smile. Mace and Saffron pull ahead, closer to the train, but I only need Mantel to hear this.

"How old are you, twelve, thirteen?" I wait for his response and then nod. "You're too young then, to remember some of the victors that won in spite of their disabilities. When you were a toddler, around two years old, Arbor Halt from district twelve won the fifty-fourth games in spite of being blind. As you can imagine, people were shocked. But not as much as two years after that, when Heron Kimberling won after having lost both of her legs below the knees. Having a disadvantage can be an advantage, because people have a tendency to underestimate you. Look at me! I still won the mayoral election and I have a really bum leg. There is always hope Mantel. Perhaps a small hope, but there is always hope."We start to walk again and I hope I have made some form of impression on the boy and a good one at that. He'll need all the encouragement he can get going into the arena like this. It is times like these that I am somewhat glad that I never had children of my own. Never shall I be the grieving parent bereft of my own flesh and blood. I wonder what's going through the minds of the parents of these two, nothing good, that's for sure, but its hard not to think about it. There are two families somewhere behind the five of us, grief, sorrow, and heartache only grows in ever increasing proportions.

Once we've reached the train, I pull Mace aside from his conversation with Saffron and motion for the two tributes to go inside. There will be plenty for them to look at in there, bunks to find, trays of food, the types of which most people in our district can dream of getting to eat and I have business with Mace that needs saying. I keep my voice low, in case either of the children are attempting to listen in, because I don't exactly want either of them to become even more frightened than they already are."Listen Mace, I want you to instill a little something into their heads alright? There's been a growing trend the past few couple of years and it doesn't sit well with me or many of the people in our district. Personally, I think it started the year you won when that meathead killed Topaz's sister. And that's what needs to stop. Those Wolfe children from district eight, the district one and twelve tributes from last year. Tributes killing their district partner. It's horrible, not to mention disheartening to the people back home. It kills that last link to home that the tribute has in the arena; and it hardly shows any kind of district unity. You need to make sure that these two aren't going to kill each other. For all our sakes." Words to live by, if I'm to be believed, and I certainly believe everything I just said. We've got to stop it now before it continues in the years to come. A tribute's district partner should be the last person they are willing to do away with, and yet more often than not, its the first person that they kill.

I clap Mace Emberstatt on the back in appreciation for the duty he is going to be carrying out. I hope that he is in fact able to ensure that Mantel and Saffron don't kill each other before anyone else. And then I'm off. There is plenty of paperwork that I need to get done. First, I have to send the children's medical history to the Capitol, and then their family history. Then death certificates have to be drawn up. I'll give the Capitol this, they do like to be efficient. The worst part about this job is that every reaping they have the mayor preside over two plots in the tribute graveyard that are dug in the likely scenario of neither tribute coming back. These are the things that most people are not privy to. The kind of things that when people are privy to them, they would much rather forget that any of them were actually happening. It's not an easy job being the district mayor and now, after my second year, I can understand why my predecessor seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he lost the election. It is a thankless job that most people wouldn't understand. Except perhaps Mace. People like me and him do the things that other people won't. That other people can't.

Ours are the thankless jobs, the things done behind closed doors that most people couldn't stomach doing. There are few worse things to be involved with when it comes to the games, and right now, the only thing that I can think of is the poor undertaker who has to get them all gussied up after they've been sent home. Its a job that only gets worse every year, especially since they really started letting tributes use fire as a weapon. The horrors that get sent home in the caskets. Severed limbs, numerous lacerations, brun marks, frostbite; It's different every year and always the same. I do not envy his job, which is why I make it a point to give him a bonus around this time of year. At the moment, I do not remember whether or not he has children of his own, but whether or not he actually does, it can't be healthy to deal with that year after year. Its why its up to the few to soldier on and on with such things and hope that they are still capable of carrying out their job in another five to ten years. It's a simple thing really; no parent should ever have to bury their child and I can only imagine the toll such things take on the undertaker that has to do it for them.

For I know the toll it takes on myself.