Nothing Personal

Victor - Epilogue

Skyler still couldn't quite believe that she was still here, still alive. She'd already drifted through the Victory Tour, taking the jeers and hisses as the Career districts gawped up at her, unable to believe that such a stick of a girl had done it. The Capitol hadn't exactly snubbed her, but they'd made it clear they weren't happy with her for not killing anybody and, probably, for siding with Oak. She was expecting a kind of punishment, always looking over her shoulder, but it never came.

District Nine had cheered her and she'd nearly cried. District Eight had clapped politely, and a boy with vivid orange hair had come up to her while she was in the Justice Building, shaken her hand and said it was Sebastian's stupid fault for volunteering in the first place, before bursting into tears and sobbing that he didn't blame her. Those were the only things she could remember about it, apart from Daisy, her old mentor, constantly saying how proud she was.

Another morning, and she woke up, and she was still alive. As usual, she breathed thanks to nobody in particular and gawped around her room. It wasn't exactly luxurious - no velvet or satin anywhere - but she was still surprised to wake up in it. The walls were a kind of mural, with endless blue skies and burnt ground, with idyllic trees painted onto it. She had furniture, actual furniture; a desk and a dresser and a wardrobe for all the dresses and outfits that had been heaped on her.

Everything was made of wood, solid oak, which at times made her smile and at other times nearly made her cry. She really couldn't think about that today. Instead, she wondered which of the various outfits she was going to wear today. She didn't really like wearing them but her mother, thinking her old clothes weren't fitting for a Victor, had hidden them all and she didn't have a choice. 

She still couldn't quite believe her bed was so soft.

She remembered what today was. How had she forgotten? She'd been dreading it for weeks.

With a heavy sigh, she heaved herself out of bed and chose her favourite clothes from the wardrobe. They were nice and simple, a burnt umber dress that covered her shoulders and knees but didn't make her look swamped or too skinny. Even though she had enough to eat now, she was still a rake. Peering in the mirror, she brushed her hair loose and chose her old glasses from the stand. Her sponsors had given her the luxury of choice, with a variety of styles and colours, and a fetching pair with lenses that changed colour, but she preferred her old ones.

Now she was ready, and she didn't like it.

She looked completely different. She looked like the sort of girl who'd never worked a day in her life. She still worked, though she wasn't supposed to. She couldn't help herself, looking out of her window and seeing nothing but stick-thin workers scampering between the Peacekeeper towers and the clattering tram lines, and knowing that she wasn't out there. But whenever she did it left a sick feeling in her mouth, like she was still helping the Capitol as well as being their puppet, their live representative in District Eleven.

"Sky!" Vintage shouted from outside. Her voice wobbled a little and Skyler instantly stopped what she was doing - which was staring disbelievingly at her reflection - and rushed onto the landing to hug her.

Some thoughtful Capitol rep had provided Vintage with a dress for her reaping. She was wearing it now, pure white cotton that made her look younger than she was. Out of habit she'd raked her hair up; Lidia would explode if it was Skyler. She had some kind of issue with ponytails.

Skyler threw her arms around her, biting the inside of her lip.

Vintage hugged her back tightly, reminding her "I'm only in there once, thanks to you. You look pretty!"

"I can't get away with not looking pretty now," she joked. Vintage was right; thanks to her winnings they hadn't needed tesserae. It made her feel a little bit better, for Vintage anyway.