BEAUTIFUL NIGHTMARE, finnick odair

Now Presenting Your Victor...!

An animal bred in the dark doesn't know what it's like to feel the sun. For a sixteen-year-old victor raised in a mountainous district towered by stone walls and sterile uniforms, the sun can easily be mistaken for the blinding spotlight locked on her body as she ascends the stage once more.

"Please welcome back the one and only Cornelia Gravitas!"

The applause is deafening as the star of the show slinks across the stage. Tonight, Panem's finest stylist has adorned their victor in a glamorous ensemble of metal armor. Each plate glistens in oscillating hues of purple, green, and blue like the scales of some kind of mystical creature. A shredded mantle of black fur erupts from her shoulders, making her silhouette appear much larger and more animalistic than the average human. A collar of steel fangs rings her throat, and her dark hair hangs just above her shoulder, shrouding the sides of her painted face.

Cornelia is ambushed by hundreds of flashes from reporters and television crew snared in every corner. The crowd surges forward in a fevered mass, bodies pressing against barricades, hands reaching, voices breaking as they shout her name.

"Congratulations, Cornelia!"

Caesar Flickerman is, as usual, beaming. Same face under a coating of pure white makeup. Same ceremonial suit, midnight blue dotted with a thousand tiny electric bulbs that twinkle. The only difference is he's dyed his hair a smoky orange color accented with black stripes. To commemorate her savage victory, Cornelia supposes.

"What an incredible performance you gave in that arena. Wasn't she absolutely incredible, folks?"

The cheering nearly swallows his remark. At least five minutes go by before it is finally calm enough for the host to continue the program. He shakes her hand and she settles on a chair made of stone and ivy.

"Now, Cornelia, if my memory serves me right," he begins, "the last time you were on this stage, you told us it was your dream to win The Hunger Games. How does it feel to get everything you ever wanted?"

Cornelia feels everything. The air is dense and metallic, blood mixed with the stench of rotting flesh, so suffocatingly hot she tastes it with every gasp of air. Sand lashes her tongue raw. The ground trembles with skittering movement, a hundred unseen bodies scuttling through the dark. The mutts claw at her arms, her legs, her stomach, sinking their drooling fangs into her skin and dragging her deeper through writhing corridors devoured by jaws of darkness. There's a precise moment every time she deals a death blow and the only light in the tunnel leaves a pair of desperate eyes forever. The screams of the children she kills are louder than any adoring Capitol mob.

But on stage before millions, Cornelia smiles with pearly-white teeth. "It feels surreal." She shields her gaze with her hand and squints up at the spotlight. "And very bright."

Based on the amused reaction of Caesar and the audience, she has flawlessly jumped through the first flaming hoop.

"Everyone could feel how passionate you were!" the host exclaims. "You took down thirteen tributes this year! Ah, but that's nothing surprising. We all know how ferocious you District Two people are!"

A roar of laughter tears through the crowd as he pokes Cornelia in the cheek. She snaps her teeth at him. Caesar yelps and snatches his hand back.

Another performance savored by the audience.

"We take pride in our strength," Cornelia states, spreading her knees and getting comfortable. "In District Two, discipline and hard work are mandatory."

"Well, that's one place I'm crossing off my vacation list," Caesar jokes. A chorus of laughs. "Unlike you, I don't have any self-restraint, especially when it comes to eating and drinking." He turns sideways to the audience in horror. "Does it show?" They shout reassurances to him.