lost | the hunger games

• xi •

The District Two Victors were soon called up to the deck. The monitor near us had risen and Finnick could hear the crying from the audience during Cashmere and Gloss's performance. Finnick wasn't surprised they were trying to stop the games. Career districts love the glory of being a victor, but now, with a much lower chance of being the Quarter Quell's victor, of course, they're not willing to give up what they've got.

The interviews were going like clockwork. They wouldn't spare another second for a tribute. And soon, Pallas and Finnick were waiting right behind the curtain. Pallas straightened up once more and smoothened out her collarbone as if her posture wasn't already perfect.

"Miss Briar," a crew member spoke, "Please make your way to the center mark. The panels will pull back and you'll walk forward."

Pallas nodded, close-lipped. Before she took a step Finnick taped her on the shoulder. "Careful, Pal."

"When have I ever been anything but?"

Finnick frowned as she made her way to her mark, her expression already set before Caesar introduced her, and light illuminated her on all sides. He did trust Pallas. He did. Finnick just hoped her anger wasn't going to cause reckless decisions. And Finnick knew how angry Pallas was.

• • •

"The Pearl of the Capitol, our very own Darling Pearl, PALLAS BRIAR!"

Light assaulted my eyes as the panels separated, but I didn't flinch. Instead, I graced my way downstage until I was close enough to take the hand Caesar was holding out to me. Once I was properly situated I let go and waved to the audience with a sweet, close-lipped smile. Elegance. Pure, elegance.

This year, Caesar completely wore lavender and other varying shades of purple. But his teeth were still as abnormally white as ever. He made quick small talk, eager to get to the real questions, and still have enough time.

"Now Pallas, you're the youngest Victor in all of Panem, and the youngest victor in the Quarter Quell! Do you think you'll keep the streak going?" Caesar questioned.

"Caesar, you know I'll try," I smiled, then the corners of my lips turned down. I looked away faintly, as if not wanting to meet his eyes. 

Caesar takes the bait. "Why so sad, my dear?"

"Well," I hesitated. I put a hand on his arm. "Do you have kids of your own, Caesar?"

"No, not myself, but I do have a niece, Ilana. She's twelve years old, and a darling beaut."

I tilt my head in pity. "Well, I'm just sad that another year has gone by and your niece and the children here in the Capitol haven't gotten the chance at the Hunger Games! Wouldn't that be amazing?"

The host's eyes widened a fraction. He opened his mouth, but I was already talking again.

"I mean, imagine!" My eyes started to lighten. "Wouldn't you want your niece to get the chance at slaughtering other tributes just to become a Victor? The glory she'd bring to your family!" I looked at the audience, who were completely silent. "Wouldn't you want that for your children?"

An unsettling chill had came over the room, and I was at the center of it. I scanned the faces, silently challenging them to answer my questions, to agree or disagree with my statement. To finally acknowledge how brutally barbaric their "beautiful" Hunger Games were. 

"Caesar, don't you think Ilana would like to be in the Hunger Games herself? I mean, this year! She could be the new youngest Victor in Panem. Isn't that just . . . darling?"

The buzzer sounded, and I was sent to the other lined up tributes. But before I made my way up the stairs, I blew a kiss to the camera. I winked, and then I have whisked away to the pedestal. I knew I'd come to regret my choices, but at the moment I didn't care. I was trembling, by the time I stood on my pedestal next to Beetee. Probably just adrenaline.

• • •

I sat on the window sill of the east wall, where the buildings were shortest. The mountains were almost visible through the bright lights of the Capitol.

At the base of my throat rested my new golden necklace I'd found on my nightstand a couple of hours earlier. A scallop shell that opened up to reveal my pearl. Plutarch's creativity no doubt. My fingertips grazed the grooves of the shell as I gazed out the window. Guilt clawed at my stomach like a rabid animal defending itself. I forced myself through it, the same way I ignored cramps on my period.

Back in District Four, before my games, my mother taught me how to deal with pain like cramps. We lived on the beach, and the first time I experienced my cramps she'd taken me to the ocean. Mom laid me on my back and let me float in the water freely. She told me to relax, and focus on the sky. Inhale the ocean and expel the pain.

She would float beside me, and we'd point out random shapes in the clouds. We could spend almost an hour out there and not realize it. There'd always be another flower or boat or alien pushing a stroller in the clouds. Sometimes she'd point out a shape, and I'd say something funny or tease her. Then Mom would randomly tickle me, and I'd lose balance and turn over. I'd always end up coughing because I accidentally swallowed the sea during my laugh attacks.

The pain never really went away, but drifting so freely in the water like that, where gravity has no hold on you. . . it didn't even matter.

I directed my vision to the night sky's clouds. I squinted up, trying to make sense of the blobs of air, I squinted harder, but all I saw were whisps of mist, bound to disappear. I yanked my hand away from my neck, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Are you okay?"

I took a deep breath and readjusted my position to sit up straight. I didn't answer. Finnick moved across from me, and despite my efforts not to meet his eyes, he still searched for mine.

"Snow is going to retaliate," I said quietly, "for what I said."

"I know"

"I didn't mean to put Annie and Mags in danger."

"I know."

"Do you know everything?" I rolled my eyes.

Deadpanned, he said, "Yes."

A laugh got caught in my throat. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "What do you think the arena will be this year?"

"Something designed to kill us," Finnick replied. I fully turned to him; he was the one looking away now. "And quickly. Snow wants an example made out of us as soon as possible."

"He's going to kill us."

"Maybe."

"There is no maybe," I cut off sharply. "He will kill us."

"We'll protect each other," he responded fiercely. He almost looked convinced we'd get out of this alive. "We'll protect each other in the arena, and Cynara promised to protect Mags and Annie and we'll be okay."

I looked out at the blobs in the sky. I didn't want Finnick to see the complete doubt in my eyes. "I hope so." 

• • •

poorly written & raw chapters are my specialty !! but we're finally at the  GAMES!!  scary and badass murderer pallas is my fav pallas and i hope you like her too :))