Among the Sunflowers [Opal & Olivia]
Jul 15, 2020 0:23:51 GMT -5
Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Jul 15, 2020 0:23:51 GMT -5
O l i v i a
And I will not negotiate
I will transform
Lessons in history.
The past arenas offer a respite away from the city, and the perfect spot for my next dalliance. I’d chosen the eighty-first arena for a number of reasons, though the gentle aesthetic was particularly pleasing. From the tall grass to the north to the way the tattered red and white big top shook in the wind the arena had become one of my favorites in recent memory. Well crafted games, too – unexpected deaths at each turn. From the front runner being ripped from contention to changing fortunes, it was one of the few that I may have decided to watch more than a few recap videos.
I stood in front of a patch of grass just outside the sunflower fields. A small stone marked where Damaris Hope fell, carried to the edge by her erstwhile ally, Saturn Rhodon of district one. The boy had been foul mouthed, crude, and generated a high viewership rating from the capitol. Foolish as he was, there had been more than a few hands of money exchanged after he managed to claw his way out of the feast. I couldn’t help but hope he’d have a last gasp. After all, there were only so many times a person could cheat death before he finally came to take them away.
As the stalks of sunflowers swayed in the gentle breeze of the afternoon, I started in on the work left for the day in my head. Checking the status of goods between the lower districts. A briefing on the noted dissidents. Word of if the council had come to any new decisions. And of course, whether or not Katelyn Persimmon had started in earnest on the tasks I’d set down for her.
I watched the yellow petals catch the wind. None of them knew what it was like so many years ago, fresh from the war and on the edge of ruin. All of the good they have now could never have existed without our sacrifice and commitment to duty. A system that may have placed those at odds with those who had more, but it had preserved us from ruin for nearly a hundred years.
They forget what rose from the ashes after the dark days was not born out of compromise.
A lot of things are forgotten now, that much was clear. Given enough decades, they’d become removed from true violence. Don’t get me wrong, we plastered the images of children smashing one another’s skulls across every television screen in the known world. A reminder that their most precious resource could be cut down easy enough. Yet reminders could go forgotten, too; enough time and the plot had been lost, replaced with a soap opera and a set of districts beginning to yearn for something new.
History could have taught them the truth. That war would take much more than their children. Their husbands and wives, mothers, sisters, brothers, all of them could be swept up in a terrible fight that’d leave them far more broken than they were now. They were lucky to know the sort of hunger that inched along. Not the kind that exposed rib cages and distended bellies. Violence that could’ve exploded a group of men in a fell swoop, or immolated whole towns in the matter of moments.
Violence had become too personal, too comfortable. They knew nothing of one that could give an order to extinguish a whole swath of men and women just for their very existence.
I wondered if Opal Earnest would be so comfortable in harm’s way. I'd sent her a lovely box of raspberry macaroons with a note to let her know her presence was requested. Whether she too would present the same brave front as her lover or know that true allegiance was all that could save her and her child’s souls.
No matter. There was more than one way to skin a cat, now wasn’t there?
At the sound of her approach, I kept my eyes on the sunflowers in front of me.
“There’s nothing quite coming to revisit a little bit of history to get one’s thoughts together, mmm?” I said. I spent a moment inspecting the white of the gloves I'd worn (perhaps too formal for a meeting such as this) before deeming it fit to continue. "Opal, how good of you to come. I've been meaning to speak with you, as you can imagine, there's so much to be done. Oh - tell me, how is your remaining tribute doing?”
