to win - haymitch abernathy

⁵ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒹𝑒

The backstage area buzzed with activity, an unexpected scene filled with horses. Rosemary observed two horses tethered to each carriage, precisely matching the number of tributes. It briefly crossed her mind whether these horses were specifically chosen to correspond with each tribute or if it was just a random selection. But she quickly dismissed the latter notion; the Capitol didn't do anything randomly, except for the Reaping, which was an event shrouded in sinister randomness.

Only a day had passed since Rosemary had arrived in the Capitol, and it felt like a whirlwind. The speed at which everything had transpired left her head spinning. From the moment they had arrived to the train, the meticulous cleaning and waxing, the astonishing transformation by Sage, and now this horse-filled backstage area—everything was so different from her life in District Five, and it was overwhelming.

Sage led Rosemary towards District Five's carriage, where black horses awaited. These horses appeared resolute, facing forward, their attention drawn to the carriage from District Four. The tributes from Four had an air of confidence about them, with the girl smirking and the boy pointing at something in the distance. Curiosity piqued, Rosemary turned her head momentarily, trying to see what had captured his attention, but the room was a chaotic blur of people, tributes, stylists, peacekeepers, and mentors.

Among the mentors, Rosemary's eyes fell upon a familiar face. Her blood ran cold as she recognized him—a face she had hoped not to encounter as a mentor this year. But there he was, standing at the far end of the room, unmistakable and unforgettable: Haymitch Abernathy, the victor of the second Quarter Quell, and in her eyes, a murderer.

"Rosemary?" Quartz's voice pulled her out of her stupor. He had noticed her gaze and tilted his head, subtly acknowledging the presence of the other victor. Fortunately, Rosemary had missed their unspoken exchange.

"It's nearly time," Porter announced, urging them to focus on the imminent parade.

In their matching headgear, Rosemary and Collumbae looked somewhat absurd, almost like clowns, but it was clear that the Capitol residents loved the spectacle. Quartz, seemingly still indulging in alcohol, mumbled his farewell, not quite placing the bottles aside even though he was supposed to be a mentor. Rosemary couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't more elated about his own survival, but the thought lingered in the back of her mind.

"We'll wait here for you two. Don't make them forget you." Quartz slurred out the words.

The parade soon commenced, with the horses at the front of the procession. Rosemary watched Collumbae, who was waving and smiling, playing to the crowd with practiced charm. They threw roses at him, and he reciprocated with theatrical flair, even taking a moment to inhale their fragrance. It was a performance designed to win the Capitol's affection, and Collumbae executed it masterfully. Rosemary couldn't help but admire his ability to adapt.

Meanwhile, Rosemary stood there, her demeanor stoic and unsmiling. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, her right hand clutching the side of the carriage for support. On the screens that broadcasted the parade, Collumbae's beaming face was prominently displayed. On another screen, Rosemary appeared solemn, almost as if she were from a different world.

♕

The parade felt like an eternity, and Rosemary's thoughts swirled like a tempest. She tried to fathom what awaited her in the days to come: training, evaluations, interviews, and finally, the arena. The prospect of fighting weighed heavily on her. She had seen what the Games had done to her siblings and to others before them. The transformation into killers, the loss of innocence—it was a darkness she desperately wanted to avoid.