fic: farsighted
farsighted
thg, foxface/thresh. pg-13
in her considered opinion, this really could not be any worse.
nb originally posted here.
She is not a fighter. Her mentor tells her as much on the train to the Capitol. ‘What you need’, he told her, ‘is a unique selling point. What’re you good at?’
‘I’m quite good at thinking’, she’d replied, and he’d buried his head in his hands.
‘Better start making funeral plans, then, darling.’
The first time she sees him is at the tributes parade. Observing each of her fellow tributes in turn, she can see what her mentor meant. She’s not pretty. She’s not strong. She’s fucking ginger. In her considered opinion, this really could not be any worse.
That’s when she spots him watching her.
‘What’d’you think of your competition, then, darling?’ Her mentor’s been out with Haymitch and Chaff, and she has to stop her nosing wrinkling at the stench of alcohol emanating from every pore in his body.
‘I think this year’s games will be very exciting.’ She says, in measured tones. Her fingers twist in her skirt.
He bursts out laughing, and she finds herself giggling too. ‘Seriously, though. What did you think?’
She thinks of the boy from eleven looking at her, probably working out the best way to snap your pretty neck, darling, she can hear her mentor saying, and she’s close enough to tears as it is. ‘The careers are quite something, aren’t they?’ She says, and it seems to placate him well enough.
He continues to watch her in training, and it’s beginning to unnerve her by lunchtime, when he finally approaches her. ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ She vaguely recalls her mentor telling her not to make friends, but she’s also pretty sure he was drunk at the time.
So she gestures to the empty space to her left, forces a smile. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I’m Thresh.’
‘Nice to meet you, Thresh.’ Her voice is several octaves higher than his, and makes his name sound like fresh which is kind of embarrassing, but she pushes it aside.
‘This Capitol food’s pretty good, isn’t it?’ He says, turning to look at her. His eyes are big and brown and full of a kindness she didn’t expect. It hits her somewhere above her gut.
‘It’s great, yeah.’ She glances up at the Gamesmakers, and he follows her gaze. ‘I don’t understand how they’re all so skinny. I’d be enormous, if I lived here.’
‘They take these pills, I think. To make them puke.’
‘That’s gross!’ She half-shouts, before she thinks, and everyone turns to look at her. Thresh laughs, though, and she feels a weight lifting from her shoulders when allows herself to laugh too.
‘May I enquire as to what, exactly, disgusted you so much in training today?’ Her mentor asks her over dinner, her last supper, he’d called it when they sat down. She fixes her gaze out the window. The buildings in the Capitol are so high you can’t see much from the fifth floor of the training centre, but that’s not really the point.
‘The guy from eleven told a rude joke, that’s all.’ She hears him sigh, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to come over all Katniss Everdeen on you.’
He grunts something about getting too old from this shit, and she’s tempted to wholeheartedly agree.
She takes a healthy gulp of wine. She likes how it coats her mouth and emboldens her tongue. ‘Tell you what,’ she says, ‘I’ll try and win just so you can retire.’
It’s his turn to look out the window. ‘That’s real sweet of you darling.’
‘Thought you’d appreciate it.’
His metal circle’s next to hers, and she steals a glance sideways when Claudius Templesmith informs her she has sixty seconds until her almost certain death. ‘Hi.’ He breathes, and he almost looks happy to see her.
‘Hi.’
‘Good luck.’ He pauses, and when he smiles the sunlight makes it look like there are tears in his eyes. ‘I’ll look out for you, OK?’
It’s a reassurance she didn’t know she needed, but now is really not the moment to go running into his arms. ‘You two.’ She says, and swallows hard. ‘Thank you, by the way.’
His brow furrows. ‘For what?’
‘Oh, you know. Everything.’ And she lets herself look into his eyes one last time before she turns away.
It’s only when the gong rings and she’s running, running, running for her life that she realises she never told him her name.
end.
thg, foxface/thresh. pg-13
in her considered opinion, this really could not be any worse.
nb originally posted here.
She is not a fighter. Her mentor tells her as much on the train to the Capitol. ‘What you need’, he told her, ‘is a unique selling point. What’re you good at?’
‘I’m quite good at thinking’, she’d replied, and he’d buried his head in his hands.
‘Better start making funeral plans, then, darling.’
The first time she sees him is at the tributes parade. Observing each of her fellow tributes in turn, she can see what her mentor meant. She’s not pretty. She’s not strong. She’s fucking ginger. In her considered opinion, this really could not be any worse.
That’s when she spots him watching her.
‘What’d’you think of your competition, then, darling?’ Her mentor’s been out with Haymitch and Chaff, and she has to stop her nosing wrinkling at the stench of alcohol emanating from every pore in his body.
‘I think this year’s games will be very exciting.’ She says, in measured tones. Her fingers twist in her skirt.
He bursts out laughing, and she finds herself giggling too. ‘Seriously, though. What did you think?’
She thinks of the boy from eleven looking at her, probably working out the best way to snap your pretty neck, darling, she can hear her mentor saying, and she’s close enough to tears as it is. ‘The careers are quite something, aren’t they?’ She says, and it seems to placate him well enough.
He continues to watch her in training, and it’s beginning to unnerve her by lunchtime, when he finally approaches her. ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ She vaguely recalls her mentor telling her not to make friends, but she’s also pretty sure he was drunk at the time.
So she gestures to the empty space to her left, forces a smile. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I’m Thresh.’
‘Nice to meet you, Thresh.’ Her voice is several octaves higher than his, and makes his name sound like fresh which is kind of embarrassing, but she pushes it aside.
‘This Capitol food’s pretty good, isn’t it?’ He says, turning to look at her. His eyes are big and brown and full of a kindness she didn’t expect. It hits her somewhere above her gut.
‘It’s great, yeah.’ She glances up at the Gamesmakers, and he follows her gaze. ‘I don’t understand how they’re all so skinny. I’d be enormous, if I lived here.’
‘They take these pills, I think. To make them puke.’
‘That’s gross!’ She half-shouts, before she thinks, and everyone turns to look at her. Thresh laughs, though, and she feels a weight lifting from her shoulders when allows herself to laugh too.
‘May I enquire as to what, exactly, disgusted you so much in training today?’ Her mentor asks her over dinner, her last supper, he’d called it when they sat down. She fixes her gaze out the window. The buildings in the Capitol are so high you can’t see much from the fifth floor of the training centre, but that’s not really the point.
‘The guy from eleven told a rude joke, that’s all.’ She hears him sigh, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to come over all Katniss Everdeen on you.’
He grunts something about getting too old from this shit, and she’s tempted to wholeheartedly agree.
She takes a healthy gulp of wine. She likes how it coats her mouth and emboldens her tongue. ‘Tell you what,’ she says, ‘I’ll try and win just so you can retire.’
It’s his turn to look out the window. ‘That’s real sweet of you darling.’
‘Thought you’d appreciate it.’
His metal circle’s next to hers, and she steals a glance sideways when Claudius Templesmith informs her she has sixty seconds until her almost certain death. ‘Hi.’ He breathes, and he almost looks happy to see her.
‘Hi.’
‘Good luck.’ He pauses, and when he smiles the sunlight makes it look like there are tears in his eyes. ‘I’ll look out for you, OK?’
It’s a reassurance she didn’t know she needed, but now is really not the moment to go running into his arms. ‘You two.’ She says, and swallows hard. ‘Thank you, by the way.’
His brow furrows. ‘For what?’
‘Oh, you know. Everything.’ And she lets herself look into his eyes one last time before she turns away.
It’s only when the gong rings and she’s running, running, running for her life that she realises she never told him her name.
end.