we were born with nothing [pogue]
Jun 29, 2014 13:43:21 GMT -5
Post by lyss on Jun 29, 2014 13:43:21 GMT -5
J U B I L A N T A U B E R G I N E
"T H E F U T U R E ' S I N O U R H A N D S N O W"
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It was Judgement Day. Or at least, it was Jubilant’s version of it.
She knew there were only two results she would be met with in a few hours. Either all the tessera she had amassed over the years combined with her annual slips would turn into her being reaped, or her luck would run dry, and she would return to her angry father. Her father hadn’t been abusive to her much of late, but she knew how he felt about her final reaping. Her father had always been the weak link among his siblings. He was the disappointment, the one to be left beaten and bruised at the end of the day. When Viggo and his brothers had crafted the Labyrinth Game ten years ago, he had seen his chance at redeeming himself. He figured that it would be easy to sweep wins with three daughters, but so far his results have been in vain.
Jubilant, already eight and in training when the game was bred, had a personality nearly a complete turn from what she would later morph into. She was innocent and afraid when it came to training; she had thought the games were cruel and brutal and hated the things she would see during training. She never told her father how she felt, for she had wanted to make him happy, a wish she carry on her shoulder for the next ten years. Two years later, she came in fourteenth place in her first games. Her father had yelled and wailed when she arrived home, but it was nothing compared to the beating that would be contrived two years later.
Jubilant hadn’t been reaped her first reaping, which came as a shock to Viggo for some reason. When she returned home, she could hear her mother pleading with Viggo, reminding him of how many girls there where in District Two. He didn’t listen to her words, though, and called Jubilant into the family room. He hadn’t waited for any words to pass between the two, just a rapid fire of slaps across her flushed cheeks and a few punches to her jaw. Her mother had screamed and cried; she had tried to hold Viggo back, but that resulted in her getting hit as well. Jubilant had slid to the ground, tears welling in her eyes. She could have hit him, and she probably should have; that was probably the reaction he wanted.
She couldn’t allow herself the pleasure that would accompany the sound of her knuckles making contact with Viggo’s jaw. She was afraid he’d lash out harder, or that he’d pummel her younger sisters as well. She had stood up a moment later, jaw clenched and fingers curled into tight fists, and spit out an “I’m sorry.” She picked her mother up and then marched out of the room.
For the special occasion of her last reaping, she allowed her mother to doll her up, for they all believed it might be the last time they’d ever see Jubilant. She sat patiently in front of a vanity while her mother coaxed the wispy tendrils of her hair into an up-do. She tried to suffocate the tears welling up in her eyes as makeup wands would accidentally probe her icy irises. She even allowed the dress her mother wore to her final reaping be slid over her head, even though it wasn’t as slimming as most of her outfits. It wasn’t much of a dress, just sleek, blue material that fell just past her knees. As her mother fidgeted around with the neck, she cupped a hand to Jubilant’s ear and whispered,
“It’s for good luck-or really bad luck I suppose. I didn’t get reaped in this dress, so maybe you won’t either. I know you want to make your father proud, honey, but I can’t lose you. I can’t.”
Jubilant spun around, expecting tears to be slipping over her mother’s lower lashes, but she just stood there, smiling admiringly at her work as if the words were never said.
When the time came for the reaping, Jubilant made it clear that she was walking to the square alone. She didn’t want to hear any wishes of good luck. Her mother’s words had sparked a fire inside of her. She understood that she was her first child, but how could she wish for such a thing? Surely she had to know what would happen if she came home empty handed. An incident worse than the one of her first reaping was inevitable. This time the fault could be blamed on her. The odds most certainly were in her favor.
Glitch, the long-time escort of District Two, waltzed across the stage, a grandiloquent ensemble cloaking her from head to toe.
"It is time, to once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!"
It will be me. It will.
“Ladies first!”
Jubilant’s eyes followed Glitch across the stage. Her whole body shook as the pale fingers danced in the bowl before plucking up a slim piece of paper. It was as if all the air had disappeared as she walked back to microphone, almost as if everyone had drawn in a breath and was holding it in. She slowly unfolded the paper, smiled, and shouted “Tiger Chautin!”
It wasn’t me.
Jubilant crashed to her knees, but was forgotten as the girl surged through the crowd to the stage. She didn’t hear any of the commotion that went on on the boy’s side. Soon, every one was on their way except for the devastated girl who lay in a crumpled pile against the brick and mortar of the square.
“Come on, love,” her mother cooed as she pulled Jubilant up from the ground. “I know your father will be mad, but it will be okay. You get to live a long, happy life now. You get to get married and have children of your own and maybe they’ll get to live a life better than yours, you know? Maybe once your father and uncles pass, you and some of your older cousins, maybe Victory and Glory, can banish the Labyrinth Games.”
But that’s not what Jubilant wanted. She wanted glory, just like an Aubergine should. She didn’t want her mother’s coddling, but she allowed their hands to entwine on the way home, knowing that her mother was fully wrong about the scene that was about to unfold.
Predictably, Jubilant and her mother opened the door to find Viggo sitting in his gigantic chair in the living room.
“Zara dear, would you make me and Jubilant some tea? I’d like to have a word with her.”
Her mother nodded, knowing it was best to not anger her husband, and made her way to the kitchen. Jubilant strode across the room to her father, and before she could even touch the leather of the chair across from her father, he was up and spitting hot words into her face.
“How the hell did you let this happen? Don’t think you can weasel your way out of this. I know you must not have gotten all the tessara you could this year. You had a better chance than any one else out there, and you blew it, and for what? So you can have a little romance and have pathetic kids of your own? Let me tell you, you wouldn’t be missing out on much.” And then the first hit came.
Viggo reached across and tore the gold medal Jubilant had proudly been wearing around her neck since the last Labyrinth Game. “Worthless piece of shit,” he hissed, and let his hand fly across Jubilant’s cheek.
Jubilant did not allow her head to fly back as his hand left a bright red mark on her cheek. She ground her teeth together and let her eyes bore into her father’s.
“So that’s it? That’s all you got?” he taunted, his lips curling into a smirk.
This time, Jubilant hit back.
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