believe me or not [cass]

She'd only been back a few days and it was chaos. A mess of ten-hour days at the training centre teaching different fighting tactics and survival tactics to all the kids that were forced to be there, as well as the eager faced angry looking kids who couldn’t wait to get into the Arena. She wasn’t allowed to try and dissuade them, she was there to teach, a figurehead of the Capitol’s and District’s glory that would do exactly as she was told. Night had always fallen by the time she was free, covered in sweat and short of temper, she would make her way back home, cook some food, and go to bed. There was no time to talk to Ky, and most of the time he was either not in the house or busy talking to someone on the phone.

Rinse and repeat, and before she knew it the sun was rising on a weekend and she was sitting at the edge of her bed thinking that she was too fucking old for this. Little time was spent within the confines of the garden downstairs and the plants were feeling the neglect. Over the past week she’d ripped up three dying tomato plants that hadn’t received enough water, they’d grown to use to her precise and endless attention that they were literally dying without it.

When she hoped that she’d have enough free time on her hands to spend doing the things she wanted she was proved wrong. Reminded by a letter every week of the tasks she had to fulfill and the goals the Capitol wanted to be met by the time the next games came around. They were thorough, demanding that she learn and read up on every single victor she had ignored since she had dropped off the face of Panem ten years ago.

With an annoyed scowl she tossed the article onto a growing stack beside her, she’d been reading aside about Anatalia Morrisen the victor of the 80th quell. Those games had been a nightmare, plastered all over the television as they revealed that every single tribute was in fact alive and returning home to their districts. Miracle, they’d said, a gift from the President to his loyal districts. She’d rolled her eyes at the commentary, there was no miracle in returning twenty-four battered, beaten and emotionally damaged children back to their families. It was a literal train wreck coming back and Opal had briefly spoken to Justice regarding the situation but had tried her best to keep herself out of it.

And here it was, coming right back to hit her in the face.

The next article wasn’t much more impressive, but it was the most recent one, and therefore the last one she had to get through before she moved onto the next victor on her list. The slander was awful and fell into the category of lies she had ignored as best she could. She had heard the careers whisper about the fake victor from District Four, claiming that she couldn’t really be a victor if she hadn't killed anyone. What was worse, was that she had heard from Justice that some of the other victors had been giving her a hard time because of it. Mace had made her always believe that the Victors should be a team, a group of survivors who should have each other's backs. It was shameful to hear such things.

“Gotta love me a good smear article,” Opal looked up to see none other than Anatalia Morrisen standing in front of her. She hadn’t been expecting anyone to come back into the Justice Building once Beck had made his arrival. After his congratulatory ceremony they were supposed to have a feast and dance, and Opal had believed she would get a reprieve from the madness for just a few hours before she was forced to mingle. “They couldn’t even get my side of the story, huh?”

The victor continued as Opal closed the paper placing it onto the table. “They enjoy attacking any weak spot they think they can get to,” she waved at the empty chair beside her, asking Anatalia to join her. “It’s a game for them, they’re trying to hurt you, I won’t tell you to ignore it, there’s no point in saying that.” She offered the younger victor a reassuring smile, “it just takes time, trust me, I’ve been there, you’ll get through this.” They all had.

She could remember clearly the sorts of things that had caught the Capitol’s attention with her short-lived romance, marriage and relationship to Potato. They had dragged her name through the gravel, she was a victor, a career from a prestigious family tarnishing her crown and name by being with a man from district eleven. It had been the face of the news since the day the cameras had glimpsed her meeting him in district eleven, and then again when she had seen him during the drought.

The headlines had changed as quick as a snap of the finer once his name had been reaped. From calling for her head as a disappointment to her name, to reveling in her suffering. Lovers meeting a tragic fate, oh how the world could be so cruel to two young ones just trying to be in love. How they plastered his face over every page they could, how they sang his woes when he was murdered. Suddenly he wasn’t a nobody, but rather a piece of history they could shape to fit whatever narrative they desired.

They had ruled her life, from his death, to her pregnancy. She knew the destruction they could reap, but she also knew better than anyone that no matter what they said you had to shake it off. She would never preach to just let it go, after all she had let their words twist her and hurt her, for a long time after Potato had died. It had taken her four years to move beyond her suffering and try and begin to embrace the life she had created. It had taken to years after that to move beyond it and leave it all behind her.

”There’s not much to say, they attack and attack, tearing into your self worth, and make you feel as if you’re worth nothing.” Opal looked at the piles of paper in front of her, listening as Anatalia spoke. It was true that you couldn’t heal if the wounds just kept being reopened. But you also couldn’t heal if you stood in the way of the knife each time. At some point you had to remove yourself from the equation, simply let the knife swing and swing with nothing for it to strike.

Nico Throne, the name was one of the more unfamiliar ones. He was the next name on her list for reviewing, and she had a collection of articles the Capitol had indicated she read. She took them all with a grain of salt, and rather used them as means to gain a small understanding of the victors game and history. She had seen a few articles, like the one she had just put down that had Nico’s face and name on display. She had no real understanding of the anger that seemed to almost linger on Anatalia’s face as she mentioned his name.

It was a mighty aggressive comment to be making about a person. There was history there. Opal frowned, looking at Antalia with a curious expression. “I’m still catching up, as you can see,” Opal gestured to the piles of paper in front of her, “I’m not yet familiar with Nico Thorne.” Judging by the younger victor's reaction towards Nico, Opal could make a few guesses as to what the tension was between them. She assumed, based on the article staring her in the face, that Nico was one of the victors bitter about Anatalia’s win.

Opal’s reasoning didn’t explain why Anatalia wanted him dead. “If you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener. One of the perks of getting older.” She gave the girl a gentle smile, she would not push, but instead leave it as an open invitation that could be refused or accepted.