Sunlight collided against the intricate floral metal and glass roof of the solarium at Sarto manor. Prismatic light casted a pretty shadow on the white metal table and bathed the two lone almost strangers in its deceptively pretty cloud.
Screeech. Screech. Screeeeech.
Unconsciously, Hestia scratched the metal table while her attention was on the sheets of paper in front of her. An ugly sound of nails meeting metal echoed through the mostly quiet solarium, interrupting the happy chirps of the birds outside.
Cinna looked up in concern, his eyes instantly being drawn to Hestia's actions. He pursed his lips and wondered whether or not he should bring the young girl's attention to her unconscious habit. It was a little grating on his ears and disrupting his focus.
Before the curtain of silence had fallen, they had laid out their fashion sketches in front of them, and were deep in discussion about the details of their designs for the 74th Hunger Games. But suddenly Hestia had gone quiet once he mentioned how he wanted Twelve to have a fighting chance.
It had been a few months since they had last seen each other, and they were both eager to share their ideas. The Reaping had yet to pass and Cinna had more ideas than usual, his mind was buzzing with inspiration yet Hestia had been quiet as ever.
He cleared his throat and looked up to stare at Hestia. His partner was too engrossed in the sketches to notice his gaze on her. "Hestia." He called out as Hestia glanced up lazily. He couldn't help but smile at how easily he could read her.
Screeech. Screech. Screeeeech.
A clear but subtle scrunched up smile with a furrowed brow and cold gaze that could freeze the warmest of people, Hestia didn't like working with Cinna at all. Yet she was there, allowing him into her home and letting him sit at the same table as her. He didn't understand her.
She didn't understand him either.
District 12 was a district where hope died everyday on many different days in many various ways. At least that's what she believed. Cinna was a hopeless fool, wasting his time with silly things that didn't make sense.
Screeech. Screech.
Her nails dug into a layer of white paint on the metal table before she dragged it back slowly, almost scrapping the layer of paint off. It was hopeless. 12 was hopeless. .
"Hestia." Cinna called out to her again, louder than before, only to be ignored again. "Hes–"
Screech. Scree—
Abruptly, she stopped scratching the table like the trance had been broken. "Hmm. Did you say something?" She asked, looking up from her own notebook.
He stared at her with furrowed brows and eyes full of concern. She only tilted her head to the side in confusion, her eyes opened wide as she lazily blinked before looking away. "Your...eyes..." He mumbled out. They were peculiar. "They're very unique."
Her shoulders had stiffened and she clenched her fis. Hearing his comment, she bowed her head and shook her head gently. Her bangs fell down, almost covering her eyes as if she was hiding them.
"It's nothing special." She muttered out tensely.
"I've never seen anyone with speckled eyes before." He commented, wondering if it was a cosmetic procedure that the young girl went through that she wasn't proud of but he stopped. "Your brother had the same speckled eyes—it's natural, isn't it?"
"It's nothing." Hestia said, licking her drying lips and rubbing her sweaty palms on her sage green denim skirt.
"I think it's something. It's very pretty. Like black and gray—very interesting."
"Like I said, it's nothing. Anyone can get cosmetic surgery on their iris to get this look—maybe in more interesting colors like magenta with cyan speckles."
"That'd be strange."
"But do you think they'd care?" Hestia asked with a small defeated smile. "They don't care as long as they fit in by standing out."
"Fit in by standing out—that's a good motto for the Capitol people." Cinna chuckled. "I guess that makes people like you and me the odd ones out."
"Not necessarily. We're fitting in too but standing out. We're just doing it in the opposite way—with dull muted and more natural looks than the vibrant colorful looks."
"You're perceptive." Cinna commented, eying the young girl.
To him, Hestia was just some empty headed upcoming young designer—at first but now he had changed his mind about the young girl. He thought her and brother to be spoiled and easy to convince, looking at her now, he wondered if she was the one using him.
"Why did you choose to help me?" He carefully asked.
Hestia slid her hands back on the table and clasped them together. "Why did I?" She asked in turn, almost as if he wasn't there and she was talking to herself.
She really didn't know why she asked. Dante had tried to talk her out of it, telling her it was unsafe and just a bad idea. She couldn't help it. She tried her best to cut a part herself out but she couldn't.
Of course she couldn't tell Cinna any of that.
He wouldn't understand and she didn't understand herself.
"I guess..." Cinna leaned, clasping his own hands together in silent anticipation. "I was just incredibly bored. You know, being a prodigy is just so much work, no play."
"You were bored?" Cinna asked in disbelief and Hestia nodded. "That's uh..."
"A lame excuse. Not what you were looking for?" She grinned at him, taking Cinna back.
With her poised manners, perfectly done makeup—not too overdone, just a glossy peach lipgloss and a thin black and green liner and her hair was also in a simple ponytail with a strand dyed in black; the girl in front of him was everything he thought her to be but he knew she wasn't. It was almost like she was pretending, he really couldn't tell.
He hummed in response. "I thought you might believe in the cause—"
"The rebellion?" Cinna put a finger to his lips to be quiet and Hestia feigned a laugh. "Cygnus sent away the help for the day and we don't keep avoxes—"
She suppressed the shiver of fear and let out a shaky breath. Avoxes scared her, she could never look at them nor could her brother.
The two were always afraid of them, they had their own reasons.
They'd never say out loud but they were afraid of the silent slaves of the Capitol, former criminals whose crimes were never as clear as they said it was.
"The Sarto household doesn't employ avoxes?" Cinna asked, bringing his seat closer to the table.
He looked around the solarium and nodded. He was interested. Everyone, almost everyone in the Capitol employed those silent slaves.
"Why is that surprising?"
"Yes." Cinna answered without hesitation as a slow smile started to spread across his face. "Everyone uses avoxes even the orphanages and the hospitals and clinics. I'm surprised Cygnus doesn't keep them in employment."
"He doesn't trust them." Hestia curtly replied.
It was half-true. Her godfather didn't really trust anyone, not even the maids and the butler. He trusted the Armistice siblings a little and that was on;y because the two had nowhere to go and no reason to betray him.
"Avoxes weren't ever really employed by their employers. They belong to the President." She voiced out her thoughts without meaning to, biting her bottom lip once she realized what she had done. It was too late, her words had already been heard by Cinna whose eyes were wide in shock.
"Well, when you put it that way—I never really thought about it."
"It's Cygnus' opinion." Hestia quickly corrected. It wasn't her opinion. She didn't have any apart from the natural fear she felt towards the condition of the avoxes. "I don't really have one."
"He's not wrong. I just never thought about it." Cinna said, ignoring what Hestia had added later on. "Avoxes do mostly belong to the President."
"Like slaves?"
Cinna nodded with some difficulty. He opened his mouth to speak but there was a lump in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He closed his mouth and swallowed, trying hard to get rid of the lump.
"A-are you sure you're not interested in the rebellion?" The words rolled out of his tongue before he could stop himself but it was too late.
Hestia's eyes darkened and she sat up straight. She took a sharp breath and let it out, trying her best to keep calm.
The rebellion was needed, she knew that and if she had nothing to lose and was the person Cinna thought she was then maybe she'd wholeheartedly take part.
But she wasn't.
She had to think about Dante, her brother and most importantly herself.
The two barely managed to survive as far as they did and got a roof over their head and food to fill their bellies. Maybe it was selfish of her but the rebellion scared her.
"You should be glad that I'm even helping you as a favor to Leta." Hestia said instead of answering his question. "If anything you should ask Leta that question, not me. Is she even interested or is she just hanging onto your every word because of your connection to her parents?"
"You think I'm taking advantage of her?"
"I never said that but are you?"
Cinna hesitated, his fingers tracing one of his sketches. "No." He answered. "No, I'm not or I would've asked her for help not you."
"You still took advantage of her naivety."
"You talk like you're older than her."
"I'm not but I've seen more things than her."
He raised a brow and leaned closer to her. "Like what?" He whispered.
Hestia licked her lips as her eyes trembled. Suddenly she felt unnaturally hot, like she was on fire and smoke was clogging up her lungs, restricting her air and she felt like she needed to get up and leave.
Her vision grew dark and her surroundings started to warp around herself.
The solarium's delicate glass walls cracked revealing rotten wooden walls singed with soot and smoke rolled on the floor and covered the entire room.
Flames crawled up the sides of the walls to the roofs. Smoke covered her sight before parting and Cinna was nowhere to be seen.
A cracked porcelain mask lay on the floor with a young girl gasping for air. The girl let out choked ugly sobs that turned Hestia's blood cold.
The young girl reached towards another body on the floor, a half-crushed corpse of a young boy. She sobbed harder looking at the boy. Her sobs were like pins in Hestia's heart, piercing and tearing it into little pieces.
Screech.
"Atti!" The young girl cried out towards the crushed corpse of her younger brother.
Screeech. Screech. Screeeeech.
The flames were getting wilder and hotter. The wails were getting louder, deafening her.
'1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.'
She counted down in her head while digging her nails into the metal table and dragging it back towards her.
Screech.
"...I've seen a lot of things...things someone like you will never understand." She said slowly, trying to drag herself out of her own memories. "So I know people even if I'm younger than you, I know people."
Cinna nodded. He had questions but he also needed help, asking Hestia might set him back. "I'll take your word for it." He said, still buzzing to ask Hestia for more. Perhaps the young prodigy was more interesting than he gave her credit for.
She only nodded her head in reply, already moving on from the previous conversation as she picked up a few of Cinna's sketches. She furrowed her brows while staring at them and couldn't help but marvel at the designs, each were unique from one another and each could be considered a work of art.
Cinna's talent was wasted on the Hunger Games. At least that's what Hestia thought. "Why did you choose to be a stylist for the Hunger Games?"
The stylist looked up and smiled. "I never thought you'd ask."
"I wasn't going to." She admitted. "Not at first. I didn't want to waste your time."
"Why did you think you'd waste my time?"
She slipped her hair behind her ears and looked up. "Because you're a busy person and so am I. You only have to worry about the upcoming games while I have to work on my University application, my classes and Cygnus' upcoming Fall/Winter."
"You have your hands full. I'm a little impressed."
"That's why I didn't want to waste anyone's time—why did you choose to be a stylist for the Games? I mean Cygnus told me you graduated top of your class in Fashion, Textile Design and Art Technology at the University." Cinna stopped shuffling his designs and stilled. "Isn't it a waste to throw it all away to be a stylist for the Games just for a rebellion that'll probably fail?"
"You think the rebellion will fail?"
"It's pretty obvious it will."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because," Hestia dug her nails into the metal table and dragged it backwards. "Nobody cares. Not one person in the Capitol cares and I bet the districts are probably hopeless."
"You don't know that."
"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. I just think it's a mistake. More people will get hurt or die trying to rebel and change everything than they will trying to keep the status quo."
"That's a little grim for an eighteen year old girl to say."
"It's realistic. I'm saying it as it is."
"Listen," Cinna's eyes brightened up as if the hope he felt was a consuming fire, lighting him from within and trying to draw Hestia in. "Just because things seem hopeless doesn't mean they are. Yes, people will die and get hurt now but the future will be brighter."
Hestia let his words mull in her mind. He sounded so optimistic, so hopeful that it almost reminded her of herself and her brother or the people they used to be when they weren't on the streets but they weren't those people anymore.
"You never answered my question."
"I did it in...a roundabout way. I want to change the system and for that I'll have to go in and do it from the inside."
"I guess I'll have to give it to you—you know what you want." She still didn't. She was still trying to survive. "But Cinna," The stylist sat up in interest. "District 12?"
"They're an underdog district."
"For a reason." Hestia mumbled out. There was no problem with hope but to Hestia, Cinna's hope was misplaced and wasted on a dying district. "They haven't had a victor since Haymitch Abernathy. It's been nearly 24 years—no one has won since then."
"Because they haven't been given a fair chance."
Hestia scoffed. "Fairness doesn't exist in the districts, especially Twelve." She spat, more harshly than she intended. "The Hunger Games are a game of chance—there is no fairness, you'd be naive to think there's anything fair about it."
"And you are a little passionate about my choice." Cinna noted. He stayed quiet, studying Hestia's appearance. The usually apathetic and graceful girl had for a second showed more emotions than he had seen in the matter of seconds. Her graceless manners was also not gone unmissed by him.
"District 12 has never had much luck in the Games. It's practically a death sentence." Hestia retorted. "Your sketches are a work of art. I can definitely work with this and help you create a custom fabric along with any editing for the design but I don't get why you chose District 12 or even to be a stylist when you could be the next upcoming top designer."
"You're right. It's the most unfortunate district with little chance of winning. I think with my help, we can at least give the tributes a fighting chance—make them stand out, be memorable."
He waited for her to say something in return only for her to burst into a fit of laughter. "You're funny, Cinna. There's no hope for District 12. No pretty dresses will change that. All you're doing is designing their shrouds."
"No." Cinna said, impassively with a cool tone and his eyes cold as the harshest winter. Hestia had touched a nerve, she didn't want to apologize even though she was quite apologetic at that moment. "I refuse to believe that they'll just...die."
"Cinna, at the end of the day, it all falls on the tribute. If the tribute you get is weak then there's no hope."
"Well, I want to believe that things will be different this year." He loosened his collar and pulled up his sleeves before clasping his hands together and staring straight at Hestia with a much softer gaze than before. "I know it's a long shot," He said softly. "but I have to try. I think it's worth it if we can make a difference."
Screeeeeech. Screech.
Hestia's eyes trembled and there was a lump in her throat, choking her. "You sound like a child." Cinna smiled in response but Hestia didn't return the gesture. "I remember when I was younger, I used to think things could change too. But now, I know better. The Hunger Games are a ruthless game and fashion can only do so much."
"Fashion is art and art has always been about expressing views that cannot and shouldn't be expressed. It's not just about looking pretty."
His words shot her like bullets and she could only look away in shame. What he was saying was true and once Hestia was too like him. For her art and fashion was an escape from the dreary life she had once lived. Now she couldn't stomach the truth. She couldn't herself to look back or she'd have to face the girl she'd left behind.
"Tell that to Caesar Flickerman and those like him." She said without meaning to.
"Oh believe me, they know." Cinna didn't look away and kept his eye on Hestia. "I want fashion to be the first pieces of armor those tributes wear right before they step into the arena."
"An armor for what? There's the parade and the interview. Nothing more. Well, if they win, you'll be busy but that's thinking too far ahead."
"Exactly the parade and the interview are perfect opportunities to set a tribute apart from the rest."
"I don't know. I just think this is all hopeless but I can't lie and say I'm not interested a little." Hestia picked up one of his sketches, a fitted and flared dress with flames on the bottom. "Your designs are unique but this is a safety hazard."
"I know. I was planning to do heatless flame—I assume your brother can handle that."
Dante could. Her younger brother could do anything once he put his mind to it. He had devoured books and knowledge like no other, skipping grades just to be in the same year as her at the Academy and despite it all, he chose to help her with Cygnus' fashion house rather than pursue science or any other form of arts.
"I suppose but you've already specified in most of your designs for the parade that you want to use heatless flames—good idea to branch out from the coal theme."
"I'm sensing there's 'but' in there."
"There is." His designs were great even for a hopeless district. The problem wasn't him but rather the interviewer. "The problem is that this could easily backfire. The tribute you get might be afraid of fire."
"It won't be real."
"Understandable but you don't know how they might react to having their clothes on fire more than once. The proposed parade designs seem the safest considering you're only lighting portions of the clothes on fire like the shoulder pads and going by your proposed design, you're thinking of something leather but not quite leather—District 12 can't afford leather."
"No. I was thinking of synthetic carbon fiber leather as a nod to the coal they mine, coal has carbon and so will the fabric."
Hestia was impressed and a little amused by Cinna's thinking. "In that case, you should've thrown in some diamonds too. They're made of carbon too."
"That's actually not a bad idea."
She stared blankly at Cinna and then back down at the sketches. She drew in a tired breath and let go. "Diamonds are rare for a reason, it's nearly impossible to find diamonds in Twelve."
"Nearly." Cinna pointed out. "Historically, there have been accounts of diamonds being found in Twelve but in deepest of mines."
"Even so—ugh, fine." She was reluctant but it wasn't like she had much of a say. Her role was advisory on the design, she was just helping him with the materials. "Maybe replace the shoulder to collar bone tattoos in these three designs with diamond-like colored gems."
"Can't do that. Those tattoos are also supposed to burn."
"That's...really tacky and a terrible idea. You're gonna be using the same trick twice in the same place. How about—" She picked up the sketch of the potential interview dress and brought her own sketchbook. It took her a minute to sketch out her own ideas down before she showed him the revised design. "Here, instead of using synthetic fire on the dress and potentially alarming Caesar and his film crew, you could use these synthetic gems that shine like fire. Maybe if I ask Dante to do something he could come with a better version of the idea."
"It's still not fire."
"We could create an illusion of fire which in my opinion would be more impactful."
"Make people think that the dress is on fire but it's not, it's the gems."
"Exactly. We don't have to use synthetic fire. We just need to rely on these conceptual gems that look like harmless colored diamonds at first but...um...something could trigger the fire."
Cinna sat up and took out his own sketchbook, quickly writing down the ideas while also drawing a revised sketch. "What if these gems are triggered by motion?"
"Then they'd light up immediately as the tribute walks onto the stage."
He frowned. "I don't want that. I want mystique, some suspense."
Hestia snapped her fingers. "You're in luck." She drawled out, putting her sketchpad down. "Dante and I were working on something similar but instead of diamonds, it was going to be generic gems that casted an illusion of leaves falling for the Fall collection."
"Can Dante modify it?"
"Can he?" She smirked. "Of course he can. Caesar is going to love this."
"I'm sure he will." He agreed. "The whole nation will." He added with a bright optimistic look that almost made Hestia's stomach churn with guilt.
If only she shared that same optimism but she didn't.
She just couldn't.
Screech.
Cinna started to organize his things but she didn't move. Something held her down in her seat and she just stared at her own notes. The flames in the sketches seemed to leap out from the paper and coil around her wrist, squeezing it like fiery serpents from hell.
Screeeech. Scree—
"You should fix that habit of yours." Cinna's face appeared in front of her, bringing her back to the solarium. She glanced around and noticed the paint chipping from the table. "It's a bad habit and some people might see it as a weakness."
"It's...uh...childhood habit." She said, not exactly lying. "And you," Cinna looked up. "What are you going to do if your tribute dies in the arena? Are you going to try again next year?"
"Yes." He said without hesitation. "I'll keep working on my goal no matter how long it takes me to get what I want even if I'm not alive here to see it through, I'll lay the groundwork for those that come after me."
"Kind of morbid but okay." She pushed her chair back and gathered her things into her arms. "It's nice to have a goal in life."
"You don't?"
Taken aback, Hestia looked up with a wide-eyed gaze."Oh I do." She said and bit the bottom of her lip. "I'm the successor of Cygnus Sarto." She added with a feigned confidence. That wasn't her real goal. Her real goal was to survive and she had already achieved it which left her without an aim or a path.
It seemed Cinna saw it too. He saw right through her mask and frowned. "That's your role, not what you're aiming for."
"My role and my aim is the same."
He raised his brow and shook his head in disbelief. "Hestia, it won't hurt to be a little honest with yourself." He began but she cut him off.
"I am being honest with myself."
He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. "We do have a lot to get through and we've barely managed to crack the surface." He changed the subject and tried his best not to anger Hestia. Even if she wasn't a spoiled heiress like he thought her to be, she was still someone he needed. "Would you like to continue this discussion over lunch?"
Reluctantly, Hestia nodded after glancing at the antique clock on the wall. It was getting late and she did have a lot to get through. Cinna smiled at her response and waited for her to gather all of her things before he led her out of the solarium and out of the manor and into the streets of the Capitol.