Sera slumped into the plush sofa, cradling her pulsating head between her hands. The events of last night replayed in her mind like a broken record. Cashmere's sobs echoed through her apartment as she poured her heart out to Sera. When sleep did come to her, it was chased away by the memories of her and Finnick's last conversation. She'd finally told him the truth, giving him the closure he desperately wanted yet she felt so much emptier than before.
Sleep had been nothing but a distant memory for Sera. Exhaustion had seeped into her bones as she had dragged herself out of bed that morning with Cashmere disappearing at daybreak. She didn't know how she managed to do her rounds at the clinic or visit the orphanage in the afternoon.
Everything was a blur even her trip there at the Training Center. She'd admit to herself that she hadn't been the best mentor that year. Though if she were, to be honest, she wished she was anywhere but in the sitting room on the fifth floor of the Training Center.
The grand living room felt smaller than usual, suffocating her with the remnants of last night's drama. The late afternoon sun trickled in through the windows desperately trying to lighten up the mood as it collided with the crystal chandeliers, bathing Faline, Celsi, Sera, and Zephyr in an iridescent glow.
But even its golden rays failed to penetrate the gloom that filled the corners of the room. She felt nauseated yet she knew she had to do her duty as a mentor. After all, she barely even appeared at the Chariot Parade for the Opening Ceremony the night before her Charity Ball.
She always chose to avoid the Remake Center, it was her least favorite place to be in. The nauseating stench of dye, the whirring of the loom, and the loud chatter of the stylists made her head hurt; she felt suffocated.
For the game that year, she had to force herself to walk into the delicately designed metal compound and stand there for Faline. The girl in question didn't seem to care for Sera's presence, nodding along to whatever Sera had said. She was too busy observing her surroundings.
Ovid would appear every so often to check on Sera for no particular reason even though he wasn't Faline's stylist. Though, he and his fellow designer Mabel had jointly designed the parade outfits.
And if Sera had to be honest; District 5 had one of the ugliest outfits that year. But Ovid seemed proud of Faline's metallic dress and whatever Celsi wore. Like a peacock with its plume on display, Ovid strutted around the floor of the living room as Sera played the recap of the Chariot Parade that she had blacked out days ago.
Stopping in front of Sera, Ovid turned around, the cape of his azure coat nearly smacking Celsi in the face. "It's marvelous, my creation?" He said, gesturing proudly to the screen in the living while eying his former partner, Eos' reactions.
His former partner scoffed. "I see they ran out of fabric. A creative choice of using aluminum foil as a backup." She smiled sweetly and carried on. "Though I'm not sure how that fits into the theme of Five, considering Five is the district of 'Power' not..." She paused dramatically to look at the screen as the chariot for Five passed. "Kitchenware."
Covering her mouth with her feathered fan, Emilia stifled her barking laughter. Ovid's proud look turned into a seething glare as he stomped to his seat and sat down.
"Why didn't you try and make a better design—oh wait." He grinned at her and Eos rolled her eyes.
"Because I quit. Besides, I've been doing better than ever rather than settling for...less." Eos retorted with a stiff smile, not meeting Ovid's gaze. There was still unresolved tension between the two that hadn't been resolved in all those years that had passed. "I dare say; Cygnus and I made a better team than you and Marnie ever did."
"Mabel." Mabel corrected with a quiet squeak, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She looked blue though not as blue as Ovid's hair and beard but blue like she couldn't breathe. Her sunshine yellow latex and feathered dress must've been restricting to her; the tension between Eos and Ovid certainly didn't help. "My name is Mabel. I know I'm a new graduate but—"
"Oh, I didn't ask. I know who you are." Eos cut her off and sat down with her legs crossed. "You're one of the students that didn't manage to find a mentor, weren't you? Ovid and you'll get along fine—he didn't manage to get a mentor either. His attitude to learning was...terrible."
Ovid breathed out loudly. "Cygnus had too many mentees that year."
"Yes, keep telling yourself that." Mabel awkwardly nodded and glanced between the two, stuck in the middle.
Sera glanced between the two former partners and cleared her throat loudly but she was promptly ignored. As much as she enjoyed watching a fight, she'd rather get through the parade recap and take note of each of the tributes. Training had just begun and it was only the fifth day since the Hunger Games season began. She had a lot to do and work had piled on.
Rubbing her temples, Sera tried to block out the chaos that ensued around her. Eos and Ovid's voices clashed like thunder, escalating into a tumultuous storm threatening to spill into Sera's already fragile state of mind. Their argument only intensified, each challenging the other with unparalleled stubbornness.
Taking a deep breath and sipping her tea once more, she steeled herself for whatever storm would come their way next. The light lavender scent soothed her headache a little still the clashing voices of Eos and Ovid didn't help at all.
She noticed Celsi and Faline covering their ears as the argument raged on while Creon noted down something in his diary and Zephyr was busy studying the screen.
She reached for the delicate china saucer. Her fingers circled the smooth silver-painted edges before she picked it up and slammed it into the glass table. Small cracks crackled like lightning where the saucer had landed in one piece as the room was plunged into relative quiet.
Everyone's heads snapped toward her and Creon's pen slipped out of his reach. "I can't hear the television." She quietly said with an innocent laugh, silencing the arguing stylists who nodded quietly. She shifted in her seat and moved closer to the screen. Her eyes and ears caught Creon in the corner watching her and then the screen before he scribbled something into his notebook. "What are you doing?"
Creon let out a quiet yelp. "Nothing. I'm just writing a diary entry."
To Sera, Creon's words sounded like an excuse but she didn't press him, choosing to ignore him and focus on the screen.
Faline did the same. Her eyes were once again glued to the screen. Celsi fidgeted nervously in his seat. "What was your parade like?" He asked, turning to Sera and Zephyr. Sera pointed at Zephyr while Zephyr pointed at her, both confused about who Celsi was referring to. "I meant both of you."
"Oh." Her parade was unmemorable. She hardly remembered it much. Everything before the games was a blur. "It was...just a parade. Nothing too exciting." Her eyes followed the chariot of the pair of District 7 tributes, neither seemed to show much promise. Though, they were fairly thin; she expected them to be stronger but then again neither tributes from her games nor Johanna seemed like much at first glance.
"So you didn't wear a metal outfit?"
She frowned and shook her head. "Well it was metal but it was nothing like..." District 5 appeared again with Faline appearing miserable on the screen. Sera didn't even know if any potential sponsors would be enticed by the display; she wasn't. "My dress was different; it was a woven silver-blue metallic dress. Eos did a wonderful job with it. I don't think I've ever seen anyone make dresses like that. Cygnus also did an amazing job with Eugene's shirt."
"It also glowed," Eos added with a bright smile. "I had to hand weave the metallic fibers with stiff silver silk to make it look like the dress was welded on and then add in white LED gems in between folds to make it look like it was glowing." Ovid's face soured with each word.
"And for the hair, Sera didn't wear a headpiece like Faline, we decided to manage her hair differently since she cut it—" Sera looked away as Eos glared at her with a smile. She thought her long hair would get in the way in the arena. How was she supposed to know that Eos would be horrified by her action? "–we added silver strings and threaded a few strands of her hair with it." Eos finished.
Faline turned away from the screen, a little interested. "Seraphine must've gotten a lot of sponsors." She mused quietly and Sera nodded.
Without Eos' designs, she might've not gotten as many sponsors as she needed; Huxley could only do so much. She was always grateful for Eos and her stylist team. Harp always knew what to do with her hair and Mica despite joining late was an artist when it came to her face.
"She and Eugene got tons. The most we had in years since Estelle and Merrick Clarence." Eos said with a faint smile. She stared off into the distance. "And for Zephyr, it was the last year of Cygnus Sarto as a stylist—he's a big designer by the way, and my mentor but we both toned it down a lot for Zephyr and..." She turned to Sera, clicking her fingers while trying to remember Zephyr's partner's name.
A plain-faced girl with a scorching red face and crackling dry lips along with dead eyes stared at Sera. Her hair fell off her scalp in clumps as she stood there staring straight at Sera as only she could see the specter.
"Ira." Ovid and Sera quietly answered. "It was Ira. We toned it down for her and Zephyr."
Eos' smile disappeared as she spotted the conflicted looks on Ovid and Sera's faces. "Right. Ira. It was Ira." She said slowly, breathing out her name with pain. Sera didn't blame her for forgetting; most people always forgot those tributes that died. "We...um...toned it down and opted for an air theme to represent the wind turbines of Five with a thinly woven dress made out of iridescent chiffon and a thick white belt for Ira and a similar coat shirt for Zephyr. He didn't get that many sponsors."
Faline and Celsi shared a look with Celsi's face becoming pale as he realized just how much their chances of getting sponsors might've been affected by the Parade. His partner, Faline, didn't seem too concerned. She had already made it clear to Sera that she didn't want any sponsors.
"Seraphine and Zephyr must've s-stolen the show," Creon commented, his hands clasped together as he momentarily took a break from writing.
"Not really," Sera answered with ease. If she had stolen the show, she'd, unfortunately, remember it but she or Eugene was just another pretty pair that passed. "District 1 had dresses made out of these diamonds—"
"Orange and blue diamonds." Eos corrected. "Small orange and blue diamonds hung on a lightweight gold chain. It was like a diamond sunset."
"Kura—the stylist for One, had hand-welded those chains into a dress for the girl, and Maurice, the other stylist had made it into a shirt for the boy. Still, it wasn't as impressive as Two's geode-inspired outfits. We were but a blip that year and the following year when Three stole the show with outfits made out of copper wire." Ovid almost seemed annoyed when he spoke of the past years while Eos seemed nostalgic for the past works of art.
"Though this year, they all seemed so uninspiring," Eos added. The two surprisingly were getting along at that moment. "Well, almost all. Cinna had the best designs this year."
"Who's Cinna?" Sera found herself asking as Eleven passed. A little girl and a tall muscular boy for Eleven, only the boy seemed to show some promise but there was a kind look in his eyes that told her that he wouldn't live up to his potential.
"Oh." Eos brightened at the mention of Cinna. "He's one of Cygnus' former students. A very bright and promising designer but for some reason he signed up to be a stylist for the games."
"That's not all." Ovid chimed in, annoying Eos. "He even requested to be assigned to the graveyard."
"The graveyard?" Celsi gulped. His eyes trembled in fear as they darted from the screen the Ovid.
"Oh, it's nothing to be scared about. It's just what the stylists call District 12." Emilia said in a nonchalant tone as she fanned herself with her feathered fan. She was focused on Creon but when the escort looked at her, she turned away, covering her face with the face.
Twelve's chariot blazed onto the screen. Sera leaned forward and so did Zephyr. The two tributes from Twelve were on fire. Her eyes widened in shock as the corners of her lips went up but she quickly covered her mouth, acting as if she was shocked.
She vaguely remembered the Parade, mostly being busy observing the President and the Senate but she wished she had kept an eye on Twelve.
"That doesn't look like a graveyard." Zephyr whistled as the girl and boy appeared on the screen with fire dancing on their outfits.
The girl didn't smile, her eyes had a different kind of fire in them than the faux flames that were alight on her body. Her coal-colored hair was tied up and away from her face as her tired gray eyes seemed to defiantly look at each corner of the Colosseum in a mixture of silent fear and anger even though her face was gaunt and her eyes nearly sunken in; she seemed almost terrifying to watch.
Yet no amount of makeup could hide that she was smaller for her age or that she was angry at her situation but who wouldn't be?
"How old is she?" Sera asked quietly, hoping someone would know. She didn't seem particularly keen on wasting more time on research.
Creon picked up his diary and flipped to a page. "Um, that's Katniss Everdeen from Twelve. She's sixteen." He said, reading off the page.
"Sixteen?" Sera echoed. Katniss looked younger to her, she appeared shorter than a sixteen-year-old should look. Creon nodded in response but said nothing else.
"They're calling her the girl on fire," Ovid added in a dark tone as he glared at the screen. "I think Cinna got a little ahead of himself with those flames—how did he even do that?" He carried on.
"I heard that Cygnus Sarto's godchildren helped," Mabel said, feeling more comfortable talking. She didn't look as blue as before either. "There's a rumor that the so-called mysterious heir of Cygnus, Hestia helped make the fabric while her brother made a secret formula for the fire. Obviously, Cinna made the designs." Ovid's face soured at the mention of Cygnus' godchildren but Sera had stopped listening.
The girl on fire.
A fitting name for the girl that had everyone's interest. She had a fire in her eyes as well but she was young, not as young as Sera was when she was in the games but young enough that it made her stop to think if she would be doing the right thing in choosing to place her bets on Katniss.
"She's a volunteer, isn't she?" Zephyr carefully asked and Sera spotted Creon strangely picking up his diary.
"I believe so," Mabel replied. "She volunteered for her little sister, Primrose. A noble action, if I have to say."
Zephyr let out a bitter laugh and threw his head back before he rolled his neck to glare at Mabel. "There's nothing noble about trading one life for another. If she doesn't make it out, Primrose will spend her enti—"
Sera coughed loudly, cutting him off and he turned to her. He picked up a glass of water for her and handed it to her, choosing to ignore what he was saying. Zephyr was talking too much these days and she feared that one day he'd say the wrong thing in front of the wrong person. She heard the unmistakable sound of pen and paper; Creon was making notes.
But that wasn't on her mind. Katniss was on her mind. She was a volunteer. In the non–career districts, volunteers were uncommon but in districts 8 to 12, they were rare with Twelve having the record lowest volunteers for the games.
A volunteer.
Katniss wasn't reaped.
Still, Sera's conscience took a hit whenever she thought about choosing Katniss as the face of Plutarch's cause. She was only sixteen and unlike Sera who had so much choice and time to think her actions through, the poor girl would never know that she was being used.
'You were younger.'
Her mind laughed at her for pitying someone.
Nobody—no, everyone pitied her. A young sickly girl almost on the verge of death was thrust into the mouth of death by a single piece of paper. People did pity her and she only broke them down in her head, in various ways. The entire nation pitied her but not many in the Capitol would pity Katniss. She was a martyr to the Districts while a true tribute to the Capitol.
But would Katniss even survive in the arena and make it through?
The girl herself appeared more like a twig on fire and could easily be blown away by a gust of wind. While the boy next to her with wheat-colored hair and blue eyes was tall with little muscle on him. He looked more promising. Despite the heat-less flames covering his body, the boy seemed almost carefree as he had a bright smile on his face. He seemed harmless but still very nervous. His grip on the reins was shaky as Sera noted.
"Peeta Mellark." Creon carefully began. "He's not that remarkable unlike Katniss, nobody volunteered for him."
Zephyr shook his head. He didn't quite agree with Creon's analysis. "He looks strong." He said, taking note of the light muscles that poked out of Peeta's faux leather shirt. "He might be a threat."
"He is," Faline confirmed. "They both are." She added. "I saw them today at training." The two former victors shared a look as Sera motioned Faline to carry on. "They were watching me and Celsi."
"They were?" Celsi looked terrified and stared at Faline with wide eyes. "I-I didn't see them."
"That's because they were being careful."
Well, maybe Katniss wasn't someone to be pitied after all or maybe Haymitch had finally come out of his self-retirement. She guessed it was both. Haymitch Abernathy in her opinion was one of the most intelligent victors in the history of games and he was self-aware. Yet like all victors, he was met with misfortune, and like most, he chose to drown himself in alcohol.
Her memories of Haymitch were vague but she remembered distinctly that he almost saw through her, prodding her on the nature of her illness among other things. He'd even noticed her donation to her former allies' families though he rightly never raised an alarm about it. She knew that if anyone was to know about her secret donations, many at that moment would've seen it differently, perhaps as an act of rebellion.
Though now, she knew people wouldn't care if they found out about her donations.
If she was correct and Haymitch had been drawn out of his self-imposed emotional exile, he would be scrambling for sponsors for both of his tributes. His reputation at the Capitol was at the bottom and everyone knew that he'd struggle to get a single sponsor.
As if he'd read her mind, Creon started to speak. "It doesn't matter whether those two were watching Faline and Celsi, they have Haymitch Abernathy as a mentor, and well..." He glanced around the room and covered his mouth with a shaky hand. "He's not exactly right in the head. He hasn't been the same since his family and his lover died in that tragic fire." He added with a faux sympathetic tone and a sad plastic smile that caught Sera and Emilia's attention.
Noticing their gazes, Creon's smile became even sadder and his eyes seemed watery like Haymitch's past had brought him to tears.
"Still," Zephyr picked up on Creon's strange behavior but like Sera and Emilia, he chose not to comment on it. "It would be a big mistake to not take Katniss, Peeta, or any other tributes seriously. It's not always the careers we have to watch out for. Sometimes, it's a scrawny little girl from some impoverished district."
"And District 12 is, unfortunately, as impoverished as they come," Sera added with a sad smile that appeared genuine but her eyes were cold as she stared at the frozen but determined faces of Katniss and Peeta. "We can't let our guard down. Katniss might just be the biggest threat Faline—"
"And meh!" Celsi squeaked out, his mouth was full of some colorful pastry that was served with the tea. "I also have to watch out for Katniss and Peeta, right?"
"Of course but remember, that's only if either of you survives the bloodbath."
Faline nodded her head, sitting up straight and wiping her hands with a napkin. "We need to avoid the Cornucopia right? That's what I heard the girl from Eight say at training to her partner."
A little surprised, Sera smiled but her smile fell when she caught a glimpse of Katniss in the corner of her eyes. It was such a shame that Katniss and Faline were reaped in the same year. If Faline had come earlier, she like Zephyr would've been a victor but sadly only one could win and everyone had already placed their bets on the girl on fire even Sera.
"Yes," Sera said, shelving the little pity she was starting to feel for Faline. She needed to die for Katniss to win but she could only help her as much as she needed to. "The Cornucopia should be avoided unless you're confident in your skills or..." Creon stood up and left the room, pausing before she carried on. "You have a death wish."
Celsi clenched his fists, his eyes darting between Sera and Faline. Annoyance bubbled inside him as he listened to Sera's unsolicited advice. He couldn't help but snap back, anger flaring in his chest. "But the Cornucopia has supplies that we will need in the games! You know it feels like you're underestimating me and neither you nor Zephyr seems to care about me!" The frustration in his voice echoed through the room, drawing Faline's attention.
Trying to defuse the tension, Faline placed a calming hand on Celsi's arm. "Seraphine's just trying to be helpful." She spared a glance at Sera who nodded. "Besides, I'm sure she knows better than either of us what's right and what's not?"
He swatted her hand away. "What if we have a plan?" He retorted. "What if I have a plan?" He repeated. Faline pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him; Sera noted there was a ghost of a smile on her face. "I'm here to compete, not cower in fear. I want to go back home no matter what so thanks for your advice but I'm going for the Cornucopia!"
Faline didn't want to ally herself with Celsi. She was enjoying his little outburst but her face was blank when Sera blinked. Faline was as still and blank as a marble statue that decorated the halls of the Presidential Palace.
In disbelief, Zephyr shook his head but didn't offer his advice. Celsi was determined to die and Zephyr wasn't one to stop him and neither would Sera. Her tribute was Faline not Celsi but Sera had done his part when he didn't want to. At least her conscience would be quieter.
Still, Sera feared Faline might take Celsi's route. "You don't understand," Sera persisted, her voice high with concern but still very calm. She refused to lose her temper with him. "The Cornucopia is a death trap! Everyone will be fighting for supplies and it'll be utter chaos. More tributes die for the scramble to the Cornucopia than during any other part of the game so if you want to go for it—go! No one will stop you but the knife in your gut or the sword slashing at your feet!" She finished, standing up in frustration.
Her eyes blazed with anger. Celsi was right about one thing; Sera didn't care about him at all. He wasn't even spare that she thought about in case she wanted to place her bets on someone else other than Katniss or Peeta—it was Faline. He was just there with no purpose and she knew he'd die in the bloodbath.
Celsi clenched his fists and stood up defiantly. "Thanks for your advice." He spat out and stormed away as Sera sighed and sat there with her hands folded before she got up to leave. Celsi was determined to die and she had done more than what was required of her.
The slight buzzing in her head grew louder. She kneaded her temple with her fingers while walking out of the sitting room. Loud familiar clicks of Emilia's high heels followed her trail and the bickering voices of Eos and Ovid were heard once again in the distance.
"Seraphine," Creon appeared and grabbed Sera before she could step inside the elevator. Sera paused and turned where she stood. She kept her face neutral and raised a brow at the nervous escort. "There was a package for you by the door."
Creon held up a small box and waved it in the air for Sera to see. She couldn't help but show surprise at the sudden package. She wasn't expecting anything and she already feared the worst. He brought down the small box and held it out for her.
Gingerly, she reached out and opened it. Her eyes widened and she let out a quiet breath. Inside the satin-lined box was a single hairpin. Delicately sculpted silver dahlias with small topaz in the center. There were a few that were on the side of the pin inside the box along with a note.
It was her hairpin that she had accidentally left behind in Finnick's hands. She shut her eyes, taking in a sharp breath as she tried to mask her feelings. She was such a fool for making a silly mistake like that. If anyone found out, she'd be screwed.
"There's a note." Creon pointed out, though he wasn't looking at the note. He was looking at her, carefully studying her face for a sign of anything. "I think it's from the sender."
She nodded and with the box in hand, she took a few steps away from Creon. His over-inquisitiveness was drawing alarm bells in her head and she spared him a single glance as Emilia pivoted away from the elevator to stand between her and her successor.
With Creon's view blocked, Sera picked up the note and carefully unfolded the piece of delicate paper. Inside the paper was a message without a sender's address but she already knew who it was from.
'I hope the dahlia comforts you more than the red tulips did though I don't know what the dahlia means, I'm sure it's not as meaningless as the tulips.'
Her heart tightened as her eyes trembled and felt moist all of a sudden. She scrunched up the note, shoving it back into the box along with the pin. She wouldn't wear the pin again and burn the note when she had time.
Emilia, who had caught a glimpse of the note, stared at Sera with sympathy as she reached out to pat her. Sera knew she didn't deserve the gesture. It was her fault that things between her and Finnick were so cold. Though she knew that, she still wouldn't change it. It would be selfish of her to try and fix things. She'd only give him a small period of happiness before leaving him again in misery.
"You break a boy's heart once and he remembers it for the next decade or so." Emilia ruefully commented, her eyes on the shut box before she glanced over at Eos and Ovid who were bickering in the sitting room.
Creon frowned. "Whose heart did S-Seraphine break?" He asked, tilting his head in confusion and gripping his diary in his hands.
"Mine." Zephyr joked, coming behind Sera and throwing his arms over her shoulders. She looked up and scowled at him before throwing his arm away. "She ditched me last night when I told her to wait for me to help finish up cleaning up at the Charity Gala last night."
She rolled her eyes though she was very thankful for his interruptions. "You were taking too long." She complained. "I was falling asleep where I stood so forgive me for choosing sleep over you."
He gasped dramatically. "I'm telling Clarisse."
"Whose Clarisse?" Creon asked.
But he was ignored by Sera and Zephyr as Sera headed to the elevator. "You do that." She said to Zephyr and turned around to leave. Eos stomped away from Ovid and followed her.
Sera knew Clarisse wouldn't care. She had her things to worry about. She did suspect that her friend would jump at the chance of being included in any conversation with her and Zephyr. The divide between the three had grown into a chasm as of late and Sera did nothing to mend the divide and neither did Zephyr who only acted as if everything was fine.
She paused in the elevator, and her train of thoughts derailed when she stepped out of the elevator and into the reception of the Training Center; she came face to face with the sender of the box. Finnick's ever-present smirk fell as his eyes flickered to the box in her hand. He opened his mouth to say something. She bowed her head and quickly brushed past him as Emilia and Eos followed on her heels.
The box in her hands felt heavy like her heart but it was shut and it would stay shut.
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Plant Dictionary:
Dahlia - Instability or Madness
Red Tulip - Declaration of love