Two choices:
Live and die in District 12 like her parents or Run and hide for the rest of her life, leaving everything she has known behind including her only friends.
Carina chose a third option and became someone else, abandoning who she was and...
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"This place is supposed to be one of the best restaurants in Clavis." Cinna pulled his chair closer to the table and looked up at a disinterested Hestia. She had her head in her hand, staring at the walls of the restaurant. "Though not many people come here."
At first, Hestia debated turning down his offer of lunch after accepting it but she ultimately decided against it. Now she had some regrets and she wished she stayed at home. He had brought her out of the Sarto manor, away from what she knew and into Clavis, a neighborhood renown for being a hub for University and older Academy students along with budding writers and artists. It was equal parts rustic and equal parts modern with marble buildings mixed with brick and morter houses scattered here and there.
Something, she did note was the amount of trees and bushes she encountered in the streets, the normal Capitol streets hardly ever had trees instead tall poles of green liquid that lit up at night were typically what lined the usual Capitol streets.
"How is it the best restaurant if not many people come here?"
"It just is," Cinna said, grabbing a menu. A waiter dressed in a black shirt and black pants hovered around the tables with a surprisingly pleasant smile that caught Hestia off-guard. Another waiter happily chatted with a patron as they picked out a bottle from the shelve-lined walls. "It's a great place to brainstorm." Cinna went on but he wasn't looking at Hestia, rather he was busy perusing the small menu.
In the dimly lit pale orange-yellow lighting, Hestia could barely see a thing around but she could make out the stacked walls of the small restaurant. The walls carried bottles of wine and other knick-knacks that gleamed in dull shades of silver, copper, and bronze. Some of the walls were absent from shelves and were instead decorated with paintings of people or just splashes of paint on a canvas while four screens hung on each side of the restaurant showing the reaping of that year's games with muted sounds.
On the ceiling hung lights under the shade of spiraled bronze metal and the ceiling itself was brick lined with cracked white plaster in the center. The same plaster that Hestia assumed was also on the walls. The floor itself was stone tiles painted to mimic marble by someone who Hestia guessed had never seen marble as the gold and black veins of the 'marbled' floor looked more like vines.
Hestia turned around and looked down at the table. Carved stone tables with ornate padded bronze-colored metal chairs littered the small restaurant but no two sets of tables looked the same. They were all different like different people had carved them.
That wasn't the only thing that caught her eye.
The centerpieces on each table were carved marble—actual marble not stone painted to look like marble but marble stone carved into smooth small eye-catching sculptures of animals that she didn't quite recognize.
A flutter of delicate marble butterflies caught her eye; it was the centerpiece for another table. But what caught her eye wasn't the butterfly itself but rather its delicate wings. She swore human eyes were carved onto the butterflies.
