There is the tendency for Tributes to forget that they, and the others they will enter the arena with, are human, even those from District 1, the so-called Careers. They aren't Career murders, they aren't born with the desire to kill, even if many of them end up serving as Peacekeepers. The Capitol takes them and breaks them, like it does to its Tributes. From the moment their names are called, Tributes are stripped down by the mechanics of the Games, quickly and ruthlessly until all that is left is fear and the instinct to survive. It's a terrible fate- most die, and those that live are left as shells.
James is lucky, he supposes. He won't ever be expected to join the Peacekeepers now. Even if he survives, he won't be fit for it. He'll be paraded out by the Capitol, made a showpiece until they next set of games, and a new winner.
But that is ahead. It's easier to focus on the now.
"Harvesting people?" He replies, raising an eyebrow. "I would hardly call us a crop." Far from it. You harvested a useful resource. What was happening here was the destruction of a resource. And as a reminder of that, there was a creak above them, one of the guards leaning against the railing, pausing in his patrol of the walkway that overlooked the Training Room. As James looked up, the guard casually changed his grip on the handle of his gun.
James turned back to Horatio, sure that the younger boy had seen the same thing, and he dropped his voice. "No, this is a Reaping."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2017-07-30 05:44 pm (UTC)James is lucky, he supposes. He won't ever be expected to join the Peacekeepers now. Even if he survives, he won't be fit for it. He'll be paraded out by the Capitol, made a showpiece until they next set of games, and a new winner.
But that is ahead. It's easier to focus on the now.
"Harvesting people?" He replies, raising an eyebrow. "I would hardly call us a crop." Far from it. You harvested a useful resource. What was happening here was the destruction of a resource. And as a reminder of that, there was a creak above them, one of the guards leaning against the railing, pausing in his patrol of the walkway that overlooked the Training Room. As James looked up, the guard casually changed his grip on the handle of his gun.
James turned back to Horatio, sure that the younger boy had seen the same thing, and he dropped his voice. "No, this is a Reaping."