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All Powerful Eyes | Burton, Amethyst
The Training Center was quickly becoming the favorite hiding place for Amethyst. She hated her suite; even when Keegan was there to distract her, the cold voice still haunted her room. Instead she took to sitting and watching the Tributes train. She desperately wanted to correct technique; no one in that room knew how to properly handle a damn thing.
Still, watching pisspoor weapons handling was better than listening to her intangible roommate.
She was used to her solitude being interrupted by Mentors watching their respective Tributes; they had a right to be there just as she did. She didn’t mind their company; she was sure many of them minded hers, but she wasn’t there to socialize. She was playacting Mentor, so she was watching the excuse for training happening below.
However there were some Mentors that had taken at least a vague interest in her; Lynx had extended a small talk olive branch, and she had met Magnus here of course. And now there was Burton Copperfield, the Mentor of District Six, offering in hand.
Amethyst stared at his extended palm, shocked that he was proposing physical contact so quickly. Magnus had tried to be comforting, and she had recoiled. But this was a welcoming gesture, an invitation for conversation.
And she could not for the life of her register what to do in return.
Her eyes flitted from his fingers to his face for several moments before she finally responded, gently taking his hand in her own.
“P—pleasure to finally speak with you, Burton. We hardly spoke before. How are—how are your Tributes doing?”
"Pleasure to meet you properly, Amethyst."
She was far more nervous than Burton had anticipated - she had a weaker handshake than that of a warrior, one that betrayed her inner thoughts and emotions. As she took his hand, he watched her eyes carefully for a response. Trying - pretending - to be calm; trying to exert control over her situation and the people around her was admirable. After all, it was how the Capitol themselves operated.
"No, we haven't really had the chance to catch up, have we?" Burton had to feign his warmth and openness - after all, Amethyst was new to the Mentor circle and was from a Career District as well. Both were good bonuses to have from a professional perspective, and Burton knew that she'd be a good person to have on side. "Shame, actually - you're a very sturdy young woman. Not easily shaken, either. There are plenty of sponsors and Capitolies who admire traits like that, you know.
"As for my Tributes this year? They're alright I suppose." Play them down. Make them seem less hassle than they're worth - then they'll strike. "Harper and Ryan will do fairly well, as expected from District 6. That's them there, in the corner." From the looks of things they had settled into a routine of their own - that of the happy couple. It was a tactic that Burton had never really liked himself; it seemed so superficial, to apparently 'fall in love' mere days before the death. It was also alarming to note that Ryan had seemingly forgotten about his young fiance back in District 6.
He turned back to Amethyst's gaze, taking a note of the District 1 Tributes - both of them would have been former Trainers at the Academy, both would have felt cheated in never being entered for the Games and now, both would take the chance to win for their District. "Killian and Maya, yes? Both pretty promising." He leant in a little more to talk to her, positioning his head near hers. "How are they finding life in the Capitol so far?"
Glimpse of the Future | Burton, Jasmine
Peering through her fallen strands of hair, feelings Burton’s squeeze of her hand. The way he begged her, pleaded with her to accept the help he was wanting to give her. Telling her how hard it was to witness someone he cared about fall into a state to where she no longer wanted help, no longer wanted to get better. She could see within his eyes as he spoke how much it killed the District 6 mentor.
"I…I can’t promise I will never inject again. I can’t promise I will be happy and perfect from now on." Her voice was soft, hoping Burton did not just give up on her completely from that sentence alone.
"But," Jasmine looked up so her eyes connected with his. "But I can promise that I won’t give up, if you won’t give up on me." The last few words you could hear the small child that still live inside of her. Out of her whole life, more people gave up on her after she got out of the arena than stayed by her side. She could not even remember all of those who stood by her other than her family when she arrived home. She was scared to go even near the Elianet family, and as for friends, those never really existed much. Burton was the first to stand by her, and to lose him, she would lose herself.
"I…I can’t promise I will never inject again. I can’t promise I will be happy and perfect from now on. But..." He held his breath briefly. "But I can promise that I won’t give up, if you won’t give up on me."
It was good enough - it was enough to hold onto, to work with until things were more secure. Burton gave her a gentle smile, nodding. "I won't give up on you - I know you want help, and... and I'll not give up on you."
But it felt wrong - hypocritical. How come he'd never give up on Jasmine, but he'd managed to walk away from Wren? The two girls were similar - they were both vulnerable and looked up to Burton, but he was treating them in entirely different ways. Why did one deserve the very best, and one deserve to be left alone to rot? Burton felt sick, dreading how he'd have felt if he were in Wren's shoes - if he had watched someone give up on him to focus on someone else.
"Perhaps..." He sighed nervously as they made the slow walk through the room - this one was for District 4, which meant that the one after next would be District 6. District 6's Victors chamber would be fairly empty - there'd been a few in the earliest years, but not that many. Then they'd see the three most recent Victors - Minerva Silverton, Burton Copperfield, and Wren Golde. He wasn't quite sure he'd be ready for any questions Jasmine had about his Games.
"... I want to help you. I... I want to be the one who helps you get back on your feet, and... and help you find your own place in the Capitol. I know we must seem fairly loathsome to you - but there's an odd little place somewhere. Tell me, specifically, what you need help with to survive the Capitol and the Games. If you tell me, I... I could teach you, in a way. Help make sure that we're putting in full efforts for our Tributes year after year - making sure we control ourselvesn during our lives."
Nonsensical Chatter | Ray & Burton
Burton was a very welcome sight, Ray considered him much more appropriate company compared to the woman who could almost be seen as a hazard warning due to her bright colours. “Burton!” Ray greeted his friend with a bright smile and a firm handshake, his eyes widening slightly as he internally screamed save me.
He laughed along jovially as the initial jokes were made, Aelia’s laugh like fingernails going down a chalkboard. “Oh no, there’s no competition here. I would be happy for Burton to join us.” The woman looked as though she might positively burst with excitement. Ray could see her eyes flickering around, trying to find someone she knew, probably. Wanting to brag about not one, but two victors trying to vie for her attention. At the same time.
Refraining from rolling his eyes, the man clicked twice and soon a tray of drinks was placed on their table. “So!” Aelia beamed, picking up some fancy drink that was a bright yellow. It clashed awfully with her hair. “Ray, honey, tell me about your tributes. What can they do that others can’t?”
He had prepared for this. “Eleanora, well, she likes to be called Elle, she is beautiful. So sweet and kind, she has the most genuine personality! She is a teacher back home, so obviously she would be very intelligent and good with all sorts of people. That could always be used to make allies, or false friends in the arena. I believe, if she won, she would be a marvelous victor. Her personality is one in a million, she could make such a great impact on the next round of tributes.”
"And the boy?"
"Gabriel. Gabriel is…" Awful. Rude. He electrocuted my daughter. He is far too egotistical, and that could get him killed. "…. Confident. Very, very clever, able to fix wires and such quicker than you could blink." Ray used to be like that. Before the arena. "He is willing to do whatever it takes to come home." But God, Ray did not want him to come home. "I believe he is going to make quite a strong mark on this year’s games."
The eyes said it all - Ray had never really liked socialising with potential sponsors, just like many of the mentors from the outlier Districts. Burton smiled to himself and waved again, before taking the seat next to them and allowing Ray to order drinks. "It's great to see you again, Aelia - like I said, good to be back in the swing of things. Me and Ray - this must be your perfect night out, eh?"
"Oh of course darling - two of you together? Most of my friends would throw themselves into a tracker jacker nest to be in my shoes right now!" As she burst out laughing, Burton winced to himself. That had been how one of the Tributes had died in his year, trying to escape the forest fire that had engulfed the Arena in the final day of the Games. She had screamed in panic and tried to flee, but instead had sunk down through the ground into the hive. The image from the camera feeds had been so graphic that they had had to censor it when Burton was forced to watch the replay.
The conversation soon turned to Tributes, and Ray had begun by talking about Elle - she certainly sounded promising enough, with an air of intelligence and warmth that would prove attractive to the Capitol. Burton had been mentoring long enough to learn when to speak and when to listen - right now, keeping his ears open would be best. It felt bad, trying to log Ray's patter about his Tributes for his own uses, but there was a situation and he had to take advantage of it for the good of Harper and Ryan. If there was something about District 3 that was vital knowledge, he'd share it and use it for his own purposes.
"... what about yours, Burton? How are they faring this year?"
"This year's going to be an interesting one, I reckon - think about it. We've got adults fighting alongside children, means an entirely different dynamic between the Tributes this year. My two - Harper, for a start, fits your generic profile. The usual age for a Tribute, similar skill set to your average Victor - in an ordinary year, she'd blend into the background. But this year, that makes her stand out - that makes her different. Same as I assume Gabriel does for District 3, am I right Ray?"
He had to play it carefully - he had to be supportive of Ray's Tributes in the name of friendship, but focus on his own in the name of competition.
"As for Ryan? He's more of the usual dark horse we tend to see in the games - he's got potential, but compared to the Careers..." He sighed, a little theatrically - it was all part of the ploy. Be slightly resigned, act a little pessimistic, and sponsors would trip over themselves to prove their benevolence. "I'm sure you feel the same, don't you Ray? When you reckon you've got a winner but there's so... so disadvantaged in the field?"
Perhaps Ray would understand the play and join in - perhaps he'd mess it up entirely. Burton couldn't tell either way.
Playing the Game - Keegan & Burton
Keegan sipped politely as she replied, letting her voice hum in her head as she glossed over each word. “Always, always a pleasure.” She smiled back. She laughed slightly as he spoke of her Tributes. The past few days she had spent focusing on herself. Her Tributes were the least of her priorities. “A career pack is always interesting.” She mused after his words, acting the slightest bit interested. “But whether they do or not, I could really care less.”
Burton had always been neutral with Keegan. He was one of the older Mentors, so getting along with him was simple. He didn’t seem to care about the drama or really want anything from his dealings with the Capitol. Keegan was the opposite, but to have someone on the other side was valuable, it brought her back to reality.
"I’ve been fine…drinking a lot, but for the most part…absolutely fine. I’m sure you’ve heard that I welcomed a daughter into my life a couple months ago, so I guess I’ve been spending a lot of time with her…a little bit strange…the whole parenting-offspring thing. Wasn’t expecting it, but you know how that goes." She took a long drink from the cup that she was holding, surprised by how loose her lips had become so early into the conversation. "But how have you been my dear? How is Six?"
For a woman who had just had a baby a matter of months ago, Keegan looked rather good for it. He had to admire her on that point - that somehow, nothing had worn her down - not the Capitol, not the Games and not even the prospect of an expanding family. The idea of his own family had never really appealed to Burton - he assumed that firstly, no-one would want to be in a relationship with him. Then came the idea that he'd have to be a father, something he'd never had to emulate in his own life. His father had never been there at all for him - and when he'd eventually came back, Burton's hatred of him had turned to loathing.
"... A daughter? Well, my heartiest congratulations - never got round to having children myself, but I've got little nieces and nephews of my own. You must be very proud of what I assume is a beautiful little girl - she must take after her mother." He smiled at her gently, raising his glass slightly in toast to her. "What's the little girl's name?"
He decided to ignore her own questions about District 6 - there were far more important things happening within the walled citadel of the Capitol. District 6 seemed so distant from the rest of the world, as though it were trapped away inside a tiny bubble. Ava and his nieces and nephews and his God-forsaken father were a world away from Burton Copperfield at that precise moment, and all he had for company, was the Capitol and his colleagues.
Glimpse of the Future | Burton, Jasmine
The last room Jasmine wanted to enter was the very one she had walked into. District Four’s room. Murals of the victors scatted on the walls, bio’s about their games, small models of their arenas. The famed weapons show to the world. A small memorial for all of the Four dead tributes. Jasmine took a step forward to the weapons. Each weapon connected to the name of the tribute who used it.
Jasmine’s fingers ran over the glass until she came to the sword and the knife. Derrick Elianet printed under it. While next to his was the small knife Jasmine had used to kill the one and only person. Jasmine Thyme’s knife that lead her to Victory.
Standing there, she felt as if she was going to be sick. Her knees shaking as she shuffled back, running into Burton. “Why…why…” She could barely speak as her body shook. Anger flooded through her. How dare they take the weapon Derrick once held. Frame it to show it off to the world. The last person to ever hold it and used it to its glory was the one that had been dead now for over half of a decade. “This is just…sick.” A whisper grew trough her lips but yet her eyes could not part.
"... it's sick to us, but not them. That's the way the world works, Jasmine - bloodshed is just a sport for these people, they can't possibly begin to imagine what it's really like." He stared at the knife in the display case, feeling his own stomach turn - a few years ago, this very museum had displayed Burton's own weaponry as a relic, the silver dagger lying almost untouched save for the bloodstains across the shaft.
"We're better than this, Jasmine. We're stronger than people give us credit for - we're not just relegated to being weapons, you know. I mean... look." He diverted her attention away from the knife and sword to focus on something entirely different - the portrait gallery. Although many District 4 Tributes had died in the Games, the Victors were revered as images of beauty - reincarnated gods, almost. Burton looked curiously at the portraits in turn, choosing to spend most of his time at another young woman who had won the Games very early on.
He had to focus on her; he knew that Jasmine's portrait was somewhere in this museum, and finding it could devastate her.
"We all have an inner strength in ourselves that we simply need to find; I think I'm on my way to finding it somehow, if I keep being as lucky as I am. And some people never find it - I... I think Wren Golde is one of those people." Burton turned to Jasmine sadly; the thought of his colleague was a sad one to him. She was now a wreck of a woman, unable to help herself let alone the Tributes entrusted to her by the Capitol.
"... I look at you, and... and I see a lot of similarities between me and you. I see a lot of similarities between you and Wren as well. I just... I don't want you getting into the state she did - the state she's in right now. She's a near write-off, Jasmine - she doesn't accept the help she needs to get better, to get herself back on her feet. I don't want you to end up like her, Jasmine."
He sighed, taking one of her hands in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. "... please, Jasmine. I know you don't like to mention the whole... Morphling thing. And to be honest, neither do I - but... it's devastating. It can ruin your life, utterly destroy everything you care about. It nearly killed me. I... I don't want it to take you under its hold either. I was weak, when I took the drug - prove that you're stronger than I ever was."
Glimpse of the Future | Burton, Jasmine
"You see yourself, with only the flaws and scars. People treat you like you a wounded for so long, you start to feel like it." Jasmine walked over to the bench in the middle of the room to rest her legs before looking back up at Burton. "I see someone who has been through hell but is still here. Who still cares. Who still loves." Her voice began to grow softer before sticking her arm out towards him, motioning for him to join her. She could see within his eyes how hard it was to just reveal himself in such a way to her.How much he let his guard down.
"I don’t know why you saved me. I don’t know why what happened happened." Jasmine ran her fingers over her sleeve where just underneath the bruises and track marks were. "Nor do I know how to repay you for what you did." She looked over into his eyes gently as she threw her arms around him. In that moment, she did not care what cameras saw. Burton saved her life, he stood by her side. And this was the first time in years someone had.
Pulling back, Jasmine tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry.” She spoke softly as she turned back to the exhibit. Jasmine could feel her emotions start to take off, all going on many directions. Part of her wanted to hit Burton, another part wanted to run away sobbing, another wanted to be happy. Usually emotions were a good thing, meaning one was alive. But when they were all at once, it caused her a headache and anxiety for not knowing what she should feel.
"I see someone who has been through hell but is still here. Who still cares. Who still loves."
But he wasn’t capable of love - not romantically, in any case. He loved his sister and her children; he even loved Jasmine like a sister himself. But he wasn’t capable of romantic love - not the kind of love Jasmine had felt for her own District partner all those years ago, not the kind of love she could perhaps aspire to in the future. But that was when she threw her arms around him, holding him tighter than ever before, and he simply held her back. Burton loved her like a sister - as platonic as a relationship could ever be.
“There’s… n-no need to repay me… it’s what anyone would have done… surely…?"
And just as it had begun she had let go, heading back further into the exhibit and Burton followed her. “Don’t apologise, just - just wait up a second, I’m getting old…!” He tried to keep up pace as best as he could, going past the display case full of strange and peculiar weaponry, heading towards the next room of the exhibition. Jasmine was starting to get panicky - he could see it in her eyes, the emotions crashing like waves against the walls of her mind, and he had to calm her down.
“Jasmine, I - I want to help, I want to do whatever I can to help you, just… just name it! Anything!"
Glimpse of the Future | Burton, Jasmine
Bringing up her family, her friends. Burton wanted to know more about Jasmine than what she just showed on the outside. Her stomached churned at the thought of speaking her mothers name, memories of her father taking her out on the boats, her grandmother teaching her how to knit, or playing in the sand with her little sister. Without her eyes even turning to look at Burton, Jasmine spoke, her lips breaking as a whisper blew through.
"Gracie was from Six. Like you." Jasmine held no emotion within her voice as she spoke her sisters name. "She was only 11 when she…" Her eyes closed as she began to breathe. Out of everything she learned from the hospital, breathing was the biggest. ”My father worked in the waters. My mother had gardens of flowers.” Her eyes still fixed on the painting of the second Victor, her voice was as if on autopilot.
"I am the reason they are dead." Her voice grew cold as her fists bunched together. Having a mixture of morphling as well as what ever other drugs she was given to help stabilize her was giving a bad side effect of aggression through her body. "I am a killer." First time in her whole life, those words came from her lips. Even with the blood of Ebony from 2 on her hands, she held the blood of so many others. Her family, Derrick and Cirrus, and who knew how many others. And how many others would soon fall to their demise because of her actions.
"Why did you save me?" She asked coldly as she turned her eyes back to him with a dull look. There was no shine, no luster. Just a dull and emotionless vortex into her soul.
It was unusual, to hear of children shipped from District to District - Gracie Thyme had assumingly been 'saved' from District 6 to a better home, where at least if she were to be a Tribute, she'd have received adequate training to do so. But she was far younger - only eleven at the time of her death - and Burton knew deep down that really, the fate she faced was better than being chosen for the Arena. And her parents... they sounded so ordinary, so different from the assumption he had made that the Career families were so deadly and fierce. The Thymes seemed to be a family that were not focused on the death and destruction of the Games - they focused on their own happiness, and that had probably led to their deaths.
Jasmine blamed herself where there was nothing to be blamed for; Burton could have an educated guess as to who was responsible for their murder.
"... you're not a killer out of choice, but necessity. We all are, Jasmine - myself included. We've all killed to survive, and that's what the Games are about. We killed before, but... mentoring gives us the chance to be better people than we were before, by helping others to survive as best as we can. But... you did not kill your family, Jasmine. You were not responsible for their deaths, and you shouldn't feel as if you are."
But then came a more personal question: "Why did you save me?"
"Do I have to explain why I saved you?" He tried to make it obvious at first - of course Burton would have saved her without reason. But it was cheating her of the truth, really. She deserved honesty and reason, didn't she? "... I know, Jasmine. I know what Morphling can do to a person; I've seen it for myself, and in myself. And... and I always promised, that if I could stop one more person going through what I did, then... I'd have done something with my life.
"... I'm not a good person, Jasmine. And maybe - maybe you're right, maybe saving you was completely out of character for me, except I don't know myself. I don't know whether that's out of character, because... because I'm still trying to work out exactly who I am. I don't want to be the Morphling, or the Washout or the Joke. I don't want to be any of those things. I want to make something good out of my life. I... I want to prove to someone, anyone, that I'm not a bad person because of my past."
He sighed. "... I'm sorry. This... this is about you, not about me... Forget I said anything - just... just pretend that I saved you to try and be a prince charming, if that's the explanation you'd prefer. It's what the Capitol would want to hear, after all."
All Powerful Eyes | Burton, Amethyst
The Training Centre had now had a new platform installed - opposite the chamber for the Gamemakers was now another room, with the same glass windows and plush chairs, in order to allow Mentors to watch their Tributes in training before the Games began in full. Burton had thought it a smart idea to try and get a heads up on the competition, and went up there to keep an eye on Harper and Ryan. However, he'd expected to be there alone - he certainly hadn't anticipated sharing space with a quiet young woman, also watching the action.
He recognised her after taking another look - it was the newest Victor, Amethyst from District 1. The Games that had just taken place had been brutal, and the bloody monsoon that had washed out the whole house had taken out most of the Tributes as well. He remembered watching poor Phoenix spluttering as the blood reached the ceiling, the lad drowning in mere seconds. It hadn't been the most successful of Games, looking back on them.
"Ah; there you are. It's Amethyst, right? Good to see our newest Victor getting so invested in the Training Centre." Burton nodded as he approached her carefully, looking through the glass at the assembly of Tributes. It was peculiar, seeing Tributes of all shapes and sizes - the elderly fighting alongside tiny children, all preparing to be thrown headfirst into the Arena within days and expected to murder one another.
"... the name's Burton Copperfield - in charge of mentoring District 6." He held out a hand for her. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance properly - I know we spoke very briefly indeed during your Victory Tour..."
Glimpse of the Future | Burton, Jasmine
Her lips never parted, her mind never rested or became clear, her body felt like a zombie and her body weaker than when she awoke in Burton’s arms. If it was not for his hand she would not have known where to go, or even how to walk in that moment. Yet it was the moment they entered the grand room, Jasmine took in the beauty in front of her. The crystal, the beautiful artwork. Never once had she ever been in such a wondrous place. So quiet, calm, and delicate. So many different ways to go in the museum, so many different halls leading to the Victors portraits and memories from their games.
Looking up at Burton, Jasmine caught his eyes before turning back to the many doorways. The closest one was the first one she chose. The less steps she was going to have to take the better, as well as the faster she could get away from the citizens. Jasmine’s hand pulled Burton with her as she shuffled across the floor, until the room of one of the first Victors ever crowned in the Games.
A man from 2. Won the 2nd Hunger Games at 18. Terrance Dextrous. A strong built young man. A 18 year old who was thrown into the arena to kill at the 23 others just to return home. Jasmine’s eyes glanced over the small biography of his games as she walked closer. District 2 was the only District to have won the games at all up to this point. Basic arena’s compared to now, but still deathly, and still the graveyard for hundreds of lives.
"So much has changed." She spoke in an almost completely whisper tone as her eyes took in the man’s painting in front of her. "A district once invincible…" Her words trailed as she more than anything spoke to herself. How was a sacred girl like her from 4 to take down a girl from 2? That should never have happened. Ebony should have killed Jasmine the moment she saw her.
The room they entered now was one of the most popular exhibits - namely, the one detailing the earliest Victors and Tributes within the Games. These were crowned when the Arenas were primitive and basic, where sponsors barely played a role except in exceptional circumstances, where the Tributes were trained not by mentors but by the Capitol themselves. It was such an intriguing, if gory past, and Burton had a mild interest in learning more. However, his focus had to be Jasmine - she mattered more than an array of ancient portraits and relics.
They needed to talk. There was so much on Burton's mind, that had haunted him since finding her in the bathtub so recently. Her pale, trembling figure had plucked at his heart ever since, and he worried about her deeply, frantically. But his emotions were not the most important thing - the poor girl had lost her family, and that mattered far more than an aging man's worries.
"... I've never asked you proper questions, you know." He decided to be honest with her, in the strange intimacy and privacy they had in this exhibition hall. "I mean, how long have I known you now? Two, three years? And I've never asked you the most basic of questions. I..." Burton looked at her. "I never asked about your family, or friends - i never asked about your past or present. And that feels a bit... wrong, looking back. Like I cheated you out of that too. Because now, I'll never know them the way you ever did. So..."
What more did he want from her? To give up her entire past to him? To chip away at her until he got everything he needed from her?
"... I'm sorry about your family, Jasmine." He sighed miserably to himself, before nodding again. "I... I can't even begin to imagine how that must have felt; to see the news report, and... a-and know they're gone, without saying goodbye." Burton could at least sympathise with her for part of that - the death of his mother had been difficult enough, but at least he had family left after that. "... tell me about them. As much as you want, I... I want to hear about them, and... and if you don't want to, that's fine. That's fine - none of my business really - but if it helps..."
Glimpse of the Future | Burton, Jasmine
Woken up by an Avox every 90 minutes was starting to take its own toll on Jasmine Thyme. She could not hate the mute servant however, she was only following through with the directions Burton had gave her. Only to be sure the District 4 mentor had not joined her family on the other side. Gaining her wings and flying far away from Panem and the horrific world. A dream Jasmine had deep within her heart, to join her family…but to take her own life could take away so much more. Something she was not yet willing to do. It was, however the moment the Avox tapped Jasmine’s shoulder yet again, but this time with a small slip of paper in her grasp.
Groggily Jasmine came to, her head throbbing and her body weaker than she could remember. The past hours of her life were in such a mess - she did not even know what was real and what was a hallucination. Seeing the Avox standing by her however, not flickering, not moving she knew this moment was real.
Taking the small slip of paper, her eyes began to take in the writing. It was from Burton. An invitation for Jasmine to join him at the Victor’s Memorial Museum in 30 minutes. why such a place, such a dark and depressive museum giving glory to murderers made Jasmine want to vomit the food her stomach was void of at just the thought. why glorify children who killed? But, being from Burton, she knew she could not just not show up. He would run and storm back into her apartment if that were to happen. Or just give up on her completely. With the Avox’s aid, Jasmine took off the dressing gown and taking the simple outfit of black leggings and a long and baggyish grey t-shirt. Slipping on her go to flats, she let the Avox run a brush through her tangled hair, pinning it back to a more suitable look before touching u her face with foundation to hide the previous night. Taking a step back, the mute girl looked over the District 4 mentor before pulling a black jacket from the closet. At first Jasmine was lost as to what her motion was, yet looking down at her arms - at the fresh track marks and bruises - she understood perfectly. Slipping on the jacket, Jasmine made her way from the apartment and out into the world - almost an hour late.
The sun beat down on her porcelain skin as she walked, her eyes staying low and away from others as she walked. Only looking up every so often to be sure she was making it the right away. And never once did she ever imagine seeing the welcome sign for the Victor’s Memorial Museum would be a good thing. At this moment, it just meant she made it. Eyes glancing up, she caught Burton looking worried upstairs, checking his watch and tapping his foot. The old Jasmine would run up silently and scare him for the fun of it, but now, she could barely find the energy to make it up the stairs.
"There you are…" His voice was calm, but worrisome as he spoke to her. "… are you okay?"
Nodding her head gently to his questions, she turned to the entrance of the museum silently before her eyes glancing back to him. She did not know what to say. He had seen her in her worst state of her life, lying on Death’s door. What was she supposed to say to someone who had seen her in such a state? Even being here now she felt like such a burden to the District 6 mentor.
She only nodded in reply, looking down at her feet again almost in embarrassment. It was understandable, really - the poor girl must have been feeling mortified at what had happened between them. "It's okay, it's okay Jasmine... I'm fine. Wide awake, I'm fine. It's over now... you pulled through, you fought it off. That's what matters.
"You, erm... seem a lot better than you were. Well - you still look a bit... you know... but better." It was hopeless; Burton had always been useless at small talk, had already tried his best but without success. Although she still looked fairly dreadful, at least Jasmine was alive - that was what had mattered anyway. "Good to see you on your own two feet again. I... I was worried sick about you."
President Snow's words lingered on in his mind, and he shook his head slightly to be rid of them. He and Jasmine were not a couple, they were not in love and Burton would not lead her to think so.
"Come on - let's get you inside and have a look around. At least flash cameras aren't allowed inside the museum..." He took her by the hand and led her inside, knowing that she was still a little groggy and silent after her ordeal. Burton sighed as they entered the main foyer, a grand and magnificent room with vaulted ceilings and a chandelier in the centre. On either side of the foyer were archways, leading to the exhibitions on show. "Pick a room to go into; we'll chat there."
They needed to talk - there was so much they needed to talk about that there simply wasn't time to meet up over coffee. He needed to talk to her; about her family, her life in District 4, and her plans for the future. They had changed for good following the destruction of her family, but he needed to give her just a smidgen of hope for tomorrow.
Glimpse of the Future | Burton, Jasmine
Burton tapped his foot and looked at his watch nervously; he'd contacted the Avoxes for District 4 asking Jasmine to meet him outside the museum at the heart of the Capitol, to make sure she was safe. But she was already half an hour late, and the worry was beginning to seep in. What if she hadn't come round after her overdose? What if Jasmine had never woken up at all? What if her death as just minutes from being reported on the widescreens of the Capitol?
He hastily looked up, half-expecting her face to appear on the monitors with a small Capitol 'peace symbol' in the corner - the symbol for 'Rest in Peace'. Burton closed his eyes as he realised that it was not the case, and turned back towards the busy street below him. Suddenly, as though it were a dream, Jasmine was there - she was dressed in far more casual attire than he had seen her on the night of the Chariot Parade, and her eyes were sullen and empty.
"There you are..." He looked at her from the top of the steps of the Victor's Memorial Museum - Jasmine seemed so much quieter, so trapped inside herself, and Burton knew that it would be difficult for her to make it here, never mind be in conversational mood. "... are you okay?"
It was a stupid question, really; she knew that her family had been killed, that she was now all alone in the world - and after all, inviting her here of all places might have been a bad idea. But he had to try and connect somehow, and if his plan worked then it would at least get her back on steady ground.
First Serve | Burton, President Snow
Dear Mr Copperfield,
I write to you in order to request a meeting with President Coriolanus Snow himself; please present yourself to the Governing House at 1pm on Thursday and I shall lead you in the right direction. Please note that you will also be searched before and after the meeting, and any disruption to proceedings will be interpreted as an attempt of treason.
Kindest regards,
Lavinia Protegem Head of Security, President's Residence
+++
“You wished to see me, sir?”
“Of course, Mr. Copperfield. Do take a seat.” The President of Panem had been watching something on the holoscreen, as Burton watched it flicker for a second before pausing. The District 6 mentor had never been asked to see the President before, and it felt like an honour of sorts. Of course, he’d heard bad things from the other mentors but it felt almost like ghost stories – Burton wasn’t afraid of him. “How is the Capitol treating you? As good as ever?”
“As good as it ever has for the last quarter century.” He felt almost proud, being able to say a quarter of a century – it had been now twenty six years since his Victory Tour, and Burton knew that there weren’t many mentors who could boast that. That was, until some of the older mentors had returned – Cayden, Gunda and such like, had “Keeping busy with my Tributes and potential sponsors, sir…”
But something was amiss; there was a smirk across President Snow’s lips, as though he knew something Burton did not.
“You have also been spotted, Mr. Copperfield, spending much of your time in the District 4 apartments.” The holoscreen flickered slightly, before cutting to footage that made Burton wince a little. It was a replay of the night he had found Jasmine - he’d found her with a fucking syringe in her arm, and he was lying across the bathroom floor to try and comfort her. Her family had been executed, all of them dead at the hands of the Capitol and all he could have done was hold her in his arms. But it had been in her bedroom, carrying her to her bed, wrapping her in blankets and stroking her hand so gently, and the cameras had caught every moment. Burton felt his stomach churn inside of him.
“So touching... don’t you think Burton?”
“… I-I can assure you… President Snow, I-I can assure you that Jasmine and I -”
President Snow nodded quietly. “I am fully aware that you have no romantic feelings towards the young girl; of course. Which is a shame - because that means that you couldn’t bargain for her life if need be.”
It hurt; he’d played his weakest card and Burton had played into Snow’s hands - by admitting his true feelings (assuming that it was what Snow wanted to hear) he had in fact made things worse. Now he had nothing to support Jasmine with; he was not her lover or someone who had made her the finest beauty in the world. Without that implication, there was no need to preserve the romantic narrative; simply because it did not exist.
“… would you have threatened her? If I did love her?”
“That depends.” President Snow leant forward in his seat. “How do you see Jasmine, Mr. Copperfield?”
“… Jasmine is…” Burton paused, sitting back in his chair, wondering how on earth he should reply. He wasn’t in love with Jasmine Thyme. He loved her, but it wasn’t like being in love - or at least, this hadn’t been what he had expected from his first romantic attachment. And in any case, Jasmine Thyme would never be interested in someone like him either - she would never see him as someone to be her lover. They were simply too distant to be lovers in the traditional sense - but they were close. Jasmine needed him - and he needed her too, to keep him grounded in the world. They were closely intertwined with one another, seemingly reliant upon the other for everything. They were not in love; but they adored one another.
Finally, he had found the right way to describe her.
“Jasmine is my family. Nothing more, nothing less. And if you hurt her… well. I don’t think you ought to find out.”
“… oh Mr. Copperfield…” President Snow smirked. “I have no intentions to hurt her; you must know that, surely? She’s such… such a wonderful young Victor to have onside. What a beautiful… elegant… pure young woman…”
Burton glared across the table, squeezing his hands tightly to stop them curling into fists. “She has a lot to learn about the world, President. But she needs the right tutor to guide her.”
“Exactly Burton. And I would hope to think that you are suitable enough to lead her through the world of mentoring. After all… your own past says differently.”
“If you’re referring to my previous Morphling addiction -”
“I am.”
The demeanour suddenly changed; the mockery had become something far worse now - anger. “You should’ve died, you know; the amount of Morphling coursing through your veins should have killed you long before Minerva died. I’ve seen greater men than you die after a single overdose on the stuff, yet somehow… you survived. You survived three overdoses.”
“Four, sir. Four overdoses.”
The glare he received was barely noticeable, but still there. “… in any case, most people would have died. Yet somehow… somehow, you are currently our main mentor for District 6.”
“… well.” Burton looked away from President Snow for a brief moment. “If we’re finished with the career review so far, then perhaps I should go.”
“Obviously; you have Tributes to care for, Mr. Copperfield, and I do not wish to distract you from your duties. However…” President Snow stood up from his desk and stared at Burton. “It would be nice to see you bring a Victor home, for once. And if you could help shape Jasmine into becoming the bright young mentor she is capable of being… that too would be very beneficial to the Capitol.”
“… I’m sure Jasmine has great potential sir. And she will unlock it in her own time – if she wants my support then she can have it.”
President Snow went quiet all of a sudden. Had Burton said the wrong thing? Had he put himself in the crosshair by making a wrong move? But his reply was even more scathing than Burton had anticipated.
"First Miss Golde, and now Miss Thyme. It seems you have an affection for pretty little girls, broken to the core. You must consider yourself quite the collector – we must find you some more eventually, Mr. Copperfield."
It made his blood freeze; the man did not miss a trick.
Burton nodded and thanked President Snow quietly, before making his way back through the halls of the Governing House. The Peacekeepers searched him once more, to ensure that he hadn’t stolen anything or left anything in the room - Burton nodded quietly as he held out his arms and legs for inspection. President Snow’s words circled in his head, pecking and pulling at his mind bit by bit as he left the President’s Residence and headed back to the Training Centre.
He’d help Jasmine Thyme, of course; but not for the Capitol’s sake. No; he would rather save her than them. Because Jasmine was worth more than just being a Capitol plaything; she was someone who deserved her own personal freedom, and Burton would not let anything get in the way of that.
Not even President Snow himself.
Playing the Game - Keegan & Burton
Keegan sat alone at the bar in the Mentor lounge, sipping on a glass of champagne. “You know, this would be a whole lot easier if you could talk.” She explained to the Avox that was bar tending. After carrying on an hour-long one-sided conversation with him, she was beginning to get frustrated that her questions were being answered. “However, with all this shit going on with Cyrus, it’s probably best that you won’t go blabbing to anyone else. He just needs to know that Clara is his, I know that will change his outlook on things. I’m not even looking for some big happy ending, I just would like some respect.” She finished her glass and raised it towards him. “One more please, seriously, you’re the best.” A smile crossed her face as she handed him a glass. Avoxes always amused Keegan, they each had a story about how they landed themselves in the Capitol, but they would never be able to tell anyone their story.
"Thank you, much. You’re a real sweetheart." She responded as he handed her back the glass. Before she could carry on the conversation, her words were halted by footsteps coming through the room. She quickly turned to identify who they belonged to.
"Burton." She acknowledged, a smile crossing her face. "Quite the pleasure. It’s been a while, how have you been?"
Burton knew that a drink or two could be calming, particularly as the Games were beginning to capture the Capitol once more. He'd never had a problem with alcohol himself - Morphling had been his own personal hell of course - but he enjoyed the odd tipple in social company, and seeing the District 1 mentor entering the bar seemed sociable enough. He ordered himself a small tot of whiskey, smiling as Keegan greeted him.
"Ah, Miss Gates!" He smiled at her the way he always did - after all, he needed her friendship as a colleague rather than anything more serious than that - and took the seat next to her. "Likewise here - it's a pleasure to see you once again. Your Tributes look promising this year - could even be a Career Pack at this rate..."
Burton tried to appear as cheerful as possible, feeling his own stomach turn at the thought of a Pack. The last few years had seen Career Tributes go off on their own, relying on themselves along, but he himself had come against the Career Pack of the 49th Games - a ruthless cavalry of Tributes. He'd barely survived, by the skin of his teeth too.
"But enough about the chil- Tributes." Most of them were well above the age of eighteen this year. "How are you keeping, my dear? Busy as ever?'
Nonsensical Chatter | Ray & Burton
After leaving Cate with Jasmine, Ray made his way back down to the lobby where he knew Aelia was waiting. Aelia, though nice, was very shallow, she only gossiped about her friends, with her friends, about everything, really. It was enough to drive Ray insane, but he needed to do this. Not only for his tributes, but for Cate.
There was no way that Ray would ever allow Cate to be taken again. And if that involved stepping up and performing such acts expected by victors, then so be it. Besides, with the promise of money from sponsors, there would be a better chance of bringing a tribute home. He straightened his suit in the elevator, combing back his hair once more, it was prone to just falling out of place, and becoming an absolute mess. The Capitol would have a solution for it, he was sure, but he still liked it. Oddly sentimental, his hair was messy and out of place. Sort of like the mentor himself.
Pasting on his most winning smile, Ray stepped out of the elevator and instantly spotted Aelia. Her pink hair was quite literally towering above her today, clashing crazily with her red eye shadow and lipstick. He thought back to when Cate asked if he was going to marry this woman, and choked back a laugh. No, these two would never match. Not a chance in-
“Ray!”
The woman squealed, teetering over to him in her tall heels. Thank goodness Ray was relatively tall himself, or else she would be leaning over him. He moved in to kiss her cheek, but her clawed hands pulled his face over, so soon they were mouth on mouth, and Ray was a vivid shade of red. “Ray, darling, it is just marvelous to see you again!” He laughed nervously, reminding himself to keep his shoulders down. “And it is wonderful to see you too, Aelia. How have you been keeping?” And with that one question, Aelia was content to go on about every detail of her life since Ray had been away. When she wasn’t looking, he rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, not wanting any lipstick on his own lips.
Linking arms with the woman, the pair made their way out of the lobby, and Ray zoned out of the conversation. Aelia was happy to chatter about her life, as long as Ray nodded and hmmed and gasped in the right places. The taxi ride was relatively quick, and soon they were at the bar. It was quite crowded, and Aelia kept a firm clutch on Ray’s hand as they found a table. He assumed it was so busy because of the Games starting soon, and such important games they were. Ray leaned back on his chair, eyes focusing on the woman’s made up face, and tried to listen to her stories, though really he was just wishing he could get this all over and done with.
The rest of the world had moved on, and once again Burton knew that he had to find sponsors. Whilst Harper and Ryan had made a strong impression on the Capitol during the Chariot parade, he was certain that that alone wouldn’t make the cut amongst the sponsors. The odds on the betting boards for both of the District 6 Tributes had been better than expected, but were still miles away from the top of the pack. Harper and Ryan could still be sold to sponsors as dark horses - a surprise bet, an early bird sponsor. The lobby would be the best place to find sponsors, and Burton went down and waited.
And there, sat with a luminously pink lady was Ray Rivet - the District 3 mentor had survived the year out, and seemed brighter than usual. Something in his outlook had changed, he assumed - Ray seemed chirpier, although he still seemed a little pained at the thought of being in such close proximity to a Capitol citizen. Burton smirked to himself before going over to them and tapping them on the shoulders.
“Ah, Aelia!” He feigned surprise at seeing her (although she sank her claws into any mentor that passed her way during the Games) and smiled. “What a surprise - still sponsoring after all these years!"
“Oh darling, of course I am!” Her laugh sounded like birds squeaking, and she gestured across the table towards Ray. “Am I interfering with the competition here, Burtie?"
Burton shook his head and laughed. “Ray here? Oh no Aelia, he’s just a good friend of mine. And besides - these days the outlier Districts keep to themselves. Nowhere near as much bad blood as with the Careers.” It was a terrible pun, sure. But he had to make a sense of sickening humour seem believable. “How about I join you and Ray for a little chat about our Tributes? Sound like a plan?”
No Tears Wasted || Burton & Lynx
Lynx looked up at the man, raising an eyebrow as he held out a hand. She recognized him, yes, she had seen him on the television before. Burton, that was is name. She could remember him from some sleazy gossip program, or from one of the interviews with Mentors that he seemed to conduct every second day. She wasn’t sure though, if it was a friendly face, or one that she should avoid.
But she shook his hand nonetheless, making no attempt to smile.”Hill. Lynx Hill. We’ve never met before, but I’m sure you know who I am, or at least, who the Capitol thinks I am.” For a moment, she narrowed her eyes.”And I would use the term ‘colleagues’, lightly, Mr. Copperfield.”
She turned her attention away as the avox returned, two bottles in hand. ”Thanks.” The girl nodded, handing Lynx the bottles before running back down the halls. She uncorked the first bottle, bringing it to her lips and taking a swig before turning her attention back to Burton, letting out a sigh.
”Were you at the funeral too?” She raised an eyebrow, taking another drink with a yawn.”Because if you want the second bottle, she’s all yours. Fucking bullshit, that funeral. Should’ve just been back in Five, but no, Snow has to turn every fucking thing into a shit show.” She was more ranting to herself, than speaking to him in particular. It felt good to get if off her chest, how she really felt about the day’s proceedings. And Burton would just be stuck listening, it was his fault he had sought out to speak with her, after all.
“Lynx Hill? Pleasure to meet you.” She didn’t smile back; perhaps she already knew exactly who he was. The Capitol never seemed to fail to forget his past as a Morphling addict, and had spread the news around even further after the twenty-fifth anniversary of his Victory. “I’d have guessed District 5 - I knew that their previous mentor wasn’t returning…” Perhaps Harrison had finally died as a result of his illness; or perhaps he had managed to escape the debris of his broken marriage. Either way, he’d be at peace.
Burton could still feel the tremors in his hands as she asked about the funeral. He’d almost forgotten that the rest of the world was unaware of Jasmine’s meltdown, of the death of her family as they burned in District 4 - the press coverage had been focused on the funeral, not the deaths. Jasmine’s near death-experience had been a nightmare, wrenching through his gut like a dagger and he had barely managed to rest before coming down and trying to resume life as before.
What he’d gone through with Jasmine had felt like a funeral. But he had to play dumb.
“Funeral?” He shook his head. “Afraid not; I believe it was only close family and friends who were allowed to attend, and I didn’t know the woman well at all. My old mentor may have known her - Minerva Silverton, she was. God bless her…” He watched Lynx curiously, gauging her reaction. “Had she ever told you about Minerva? Might have called her Minnie when she was still alive - died a good few years ago, no. She was a good woman; strong, and good."
As the memories began to flood back, the drink sounded promising at this stage; Burton took the barstool next to her and reached over for a tumbler to pour himself a small tot of gin. “Thanks for this - I think I needed it. It’s better than my last poison in any case; what harm can this do?"