lethal
008 ─── dethroned .
" where's your crown, darling? "
rowan's view
ℑ wanted to speak my mind. I had so many words on the tip of my tongue, acid I was ready to throw at anyone who would listen, even if it wasn't their fault. I had a revolution boiling in my stomach, it had been there since the second my sister was reaped. I wanted to speak out. But the tribute interviews were not the place to do it.
I could feel each passing hour pressing up against my chest, weighing down on me like a death sentence. I could still remember the gazes clinging to me as I stood in the chariot, being pulled by those horses. The thought of facing it again...
"Tonight are the tribute interviews. They're going to introduce you to the world." My gaze, which had been previously glued to the polished marble floor, snapped up to look at Haymitch, only to find him already staring at me pointedly. His hands were folded in his lap, but his posture was terrible, and his words slurred just enough to tell me that he had already had his morning bottle of bourbon.
And then there was Peeta, who was sitting next to me on the couch, though he was as far away from me as possible. He barely said anything to me after the scores were announced, and I had to find out from Haymitch that he now wanted to be trained separately from me. In fact, the only reason we were in the same room was because Haymitch was explaining the interviews to us, as if we didn't already know. Just the thought of it made me grit my teeth together, as it was now looking like I was going to have to go it alone in the Arena.
Peeta said nothing in response to Haymitch's statement, so I gently raised my hand, gesturing for our mentor to continue. In response, Haymitch rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "Caesar's a princess, even more than you-" Haymitch gave me a pointed glance. "-so if you give him even a tiny bit of gossip, he'll drag it out the whole interview." I saw no way that those two statements could fit together, so I assumed it was the bourbon talking.
"You're also from District 12, so you're both going last, which gives you a better chance at making a lasting impression. Which will get you sponsors."
"I don't need to go last to make an impression." I had mumbled it, but both men heard me.
Haymitch gave me a sharp look, and my lips pursed, all words on the tip of my tongue dying. "I'll train you, Rowan, for the first half of the day, while Peeta preps with Portia, and you'll prep while Peeta and I train." He was talking to me; he always talked to me.
I nodded in sync with Peeta, both of us having become more solemn and reserved since our scores were announced, and everything became much more real. In fact, since I had had my encounter with Cato the night before, I had hardly said anything to anyone myself. My hair hung in horrifying strings that were going to be a pain for Cinna to clean up, and I could tell there were bags under my eyes without looking in the mirror.
As if summoned, Portia walked into the room, her arms held out grandly like we had been blessed with her arrival. Her painted lips were curved into a smile, her outfit just as outrageous as it always was. "Come, come, Peeta! We have work to do!"
It seemed that all Capitolians talked in the same way, and acted in the same manner, because I could've sworn it was Effie standing there just then, not Portia.
Peeta stood up immediately, his back straightening. He followed her out of the room without a word, or an acknowledgement. I found myself suddenly extremely grateful that I didn't have to deal with a stylist that treated me like that, or acted like that. I found that even after just a few days in the Capitol, the people here set me on edge. I didn't think I could handle any more time here than I had to.
I turned to Haymitch as soon as Portia and Peeta disappeared, an expectant expression glued to my face that made Haymitch's expression turn solemn. "Be ready for this."
My response was ready on my lips. "Why wouldn't I be?" My eyebrow raised as if to accentuate my point, but after he had spoken, my posture had straightened like a stick, my muscles tense.
Haymitch's eyebrows raised, "Have you seen your odds?"
I had. 2-1. They had changed right after my score was announced, most likely one of the deciding factors in the Careers asking for my alliance. When I had seen them, my stomach had dropped to the ground. Even though those odds would get me sponsors, it would put a target on my back in the Arena, a target I didn't need.
All I did was nod in response, and my solemn expression was enough to tell Haymitch that I had seen the update. "Not only is it the highest for District 12 in history, it's the highest in history," Haymitch said, telling me what I already knew.
"This isn't good," was all I said, my stare blank. I could feel my chances at escaping the Arena slipping away, all because Seneca Crane thought me launching weapons at him was a reason to give me a score of 12.
"Yes, it is. This will get you sponsors," Haymitch said, but his tone was hesitant. I could only imagine if he knew.
"Sponsors won't save me if the Careers are hunting me to the ends of the Arena," was all I said, irritation flooding through each word. Each syllable was a bite on my tongue, filled with hatred and self-pity.
"The Careers don't have any reason to come after you," Haymitch said, letting out a breath of air while taking a sip of his drink of the day. My expression fell, and I bit down onto my bottom lip. Haymitch saw this, and discarded his drink. "What?" he asked, carefully.
"C-... the boy from District 2. He told me... the Careers wanted an alliance. And I told him no." I had almost slipped up, almost addressed Hadley by his first name. I didn't want Haymitch to know that I knew this boy well enough to even speak his given name.
Nausea rose in my throat as soon as I saw Haymitch's expression turn to one of rage. "You got an alliance offer... from the Careers... and you didn't TELL ME!" His voice gradually increased in volume, the intensity of his last few words making me flinch.
"I'd rather go on my own than be stabbed in the back in the middle of the night, Haymitch," I said, trying to reason with the now pissed off drunk that looked like he wanted to behead me with his eyes.
Haymitch took a deep breath and let it out, shutting his eyes as if trying to command himself to stop picturing his hands around my throat. When he finally opened his eyes, he seemed a great deal calmer than he had been, making my muscles relax slightly. "The odds are in your favour, so is your score. Don't screw this up, princess."
"I won't." The response was like a reflex, it rolled off of my tongue so easily I started to wonder if it was true.
It was a few moments before Haymitch spoke again, fixing me with a careful look. "Be prepared."
"For what?" I asked, genuinely curious. I thought he was talking about the Arena, but...
"For them to ask about your sisters."
𝔛
Every inch of my body was screaming out, begging for a breath of air.
I had been covered in as many liquids and powders as you could imagine, turning me into a walking, breathing porcelain doll that I almost didn't recognize. Blinking was an effort; the false lashes weighed down on my eyelids with a disposition that could've been mistaken for metal. It was hard to see through them as well, but I could see just enough to take in my reflection in the full length mirrors that surrounded me.
Cinna seemed to be sticking with the 'girl on fire' thing, because he had handed me a mass of red fabric with nothing other than the command to, "put it on." I had, and as hard as it was to figure out how it worked, it clung to my body like it knew everywhere that needed showing off... and everywhere that didn't.
It was the deepest, most vibrant shade of red imaginable, with a sweetheart neckline that hugged my chest, with no need for straps. It exposed my shoulders, which, despite 12's abysmal climate, had an olive tone that could be mistaken for tan and smooth. The dress cut into a V as it went around the back, coming to a point right above my tailbone, exposing most of my back as well. The dress clung to my body as it flowed all the way down, until it got to my calfs, and from there, it burst into an explosion of flowing material that fell in waves around my feet. Waves of flame.
I hated jewelry, but it was a Capitolian custom that Cinna refused to skip out on. Piercing my ears was part of prep when I first arrived at the Capitol - the most painful thing I had ever experienced - so Cinna fastened small diamonds in them, the jewels shining brightly against my dark brown hair that Cinna had swept to the side in curls. No bracelets, but Cinna had placed a diamond necklace that squeezed my throat like a vice around my neck, reminding me that all I was was an animal on a leash, chained for show. Maybe that was the idea.
"You did amazing." It was an empty compliment, my tone flat, and Cinna deduced as much. All I could do was stare flatly at my reflection. I didn't want to say anything other than that, for fear that I would tell him everything: how I felt like an animal in chains, how I wished I could burn everyone in that stadium alive, how I wished President Snow would drop dead at my whim.
"You look amazing," was Cinna's response, walking up to me. I sent him a small smile, but no words in response as I took a few steps towards him, teetering in the heels he had placed me in.
"You're going to be okay," Cinna said with a sympathetic smile, placing his hands on my bare shoulders. His hands were warm, and I could feel his touch calming my heart rate, but they did nothing for the thoughts eating away at my mind. They did nothing for the nightmares I had had of Caesar Flickerman parading me around, me crawling on all fours while the Capitolians laughed. They did nothing for the nightmares I had of my sisters in the same position, because I had failed them.
I still smiled. "Thank you."
We both knew I wasn't saying thank you for the dress.
I could feel the eyes on me as I walked backstage. It was suffocating, being watched like that. It felt like if I made the slightest movement, if I breathed too loudly, they would all pounce.
The mentors, tributes and escorts alike turned to look at me, their expressions varying, but along the same line. Jealousy, awe, amazement, and irritation. It depended on the person, really. But as soon as I turned to my team, Effie, Haymitch and Peeta, I felt a small smile turning up my lips. Peeta was full on gaping, his mouth practically hitting the ground as he took in my outfit. Effie looked like she had been shot up with a drug; she was shaking her hands out with excitement as she freaked out, Capitolian style, over what Cinna had done to my previously drab appearance. Haymitch, on the other hand, was smirking knowingly, bringing the expression 'smug bastard' to mind.
"Hey," was all I said. I didn't want to say more; my voice was shaking already from the adrenaline that had been running through my veins since I exited the dressing room.
Peeta hesitated for a moment before replying, "Hey." He rubbed the back of his neck and closed his mouth, a light colour of pink dancing across his cheeks that made my smile turn into a small smirk.
"Oh my goodness! Cinna really has outdone himself, that dress is fabulous!" Effie exclaimed, looking me up and down. Her high-pitched tone drew my attention from Peeta, and I held in my eye roll at her so typical Capitolian behaviour.
Haymitch simply sipped at the alcoholic drink in his hands, hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid. "Looking good, princess," Haymitch nodded in agreement, his hair falling around his eyes but not hiding the mischief flickering in them.
"All I'm missing is my tiara," I said sarcastically in response to Haymitch's nickname. The funny thing was, Cinna really had made me look like a princess without a crown, a queen without a throne. I had to give him credit for that. After all, there wasn't much to work with.
But Haymitch's answering smirk made my teasing smile drop. "Not exactly." Haymitch reached into his pocket that I now realized with bulging with contents, wriggling it out and revealing it to me.
Effie's gasp snapped me out of my shock, and I managed to reach forward, gingerly taking it out of Haymitch's hands. The diamonds, jewels, silver and pearls alike glittered under the lights, reflecting in my eyes. It wasn't the obvious price of this jewelry that amazed me, though, it was what the tiara meant.
From day one, Haymitch had called me princess. It was his nickname for me. And I never corrected him, because as endearing as it was, I didn't hate it when he said it.
"Thank you, Haymitch," I smiled, looking up to him. Water welled in my eyes, surprisingly, as I hardly ever cried, but I suddenly no longer saw my drunkard mentor. I saw my father in this man, and it absolutely broke my heart.
"You're welcome," was all he said in response before taking the tiara out of my grasp gently, raising it and placing it into my hair. It wasn't heavy, but rather just light enough so I noticed it. I could feel it weave into my hair, connecting with me like it was meant for me.
As if the show had been waiting for Haymitch to give me the tiara, the lights illuminating the room dimmed, brightened, dimmed, and then brightened again. From the way the room started buzzing, I knew the show was starting, making the nerves buzz in my stomach again. I glanced around, the eyelashes still weighing down my eyelashes, before turning back to my team.
"Well, we're off! Good luck!" Effie exclaimed, but I was only half-listening. All of the relief Haymitch had previously provided me went out the window as Effie grabbed Haymitch's hand and dragged him out the room, filtering out with the rest of the mentors and escorts, at least the ones who came.
I turned to Peeta as soon as they left, and we were alone surrounded by the rest of our fellow tributes. "You don't look bad," I said, giving Peeta a teasing once over.
Peeta blushed again, "you don't either." It wasn't as much of a snide comment as mine was, it was actually genuine, and it made me smile.
"Thanks," I said, to which he responded with, "you're welcome."
I smiled again, but the second smile felt more forced than the first. I motioned for him to follow me, Peeta doing so without question as I walked past him and towards the wall that lined the back of the stadium. I leaned on the wall, crossing my arms across my stomach, and regarded Peeta with a raised eyebrow. "So, what's your play?" I asked. I wasn't interested in pleasantries anymore.
Peeta frowned in confusion, his eyebrows pulling together. "What play?" It was as if he genuinely didn't know what I was asking.
I rolled my eyes, my lips thinning. "Don't play dumb. How are you going to act; how did Haymitch tell you to act? Funny, serious, arrogant?" My Seam accent pronounced every word tauntingly; I highlighted my question with a small smirk and a raised eyebrow.
Peeta laughed a little before eyeing my unsuredly. He knew, I knew he knew, but he wouldn't tell me. He wouldn't talk to me about anything since my score was announced, and I couldn't decide whether it irked me or not.
I laughed, but it was an irritated laugh, not a real one. I looked away, my jaw ticking, "I get it. Why tell your enemy your strategy, right?" It most definitely irked me.
"No," Peeta said, making my gaze snap to him. He looked down, as if doubting himself, "You're right. Haymitch said to go for funny, make the crowd laugh, make them warm up to me."
I nodded, biting my lip. "It's a good idea. You'll do great." It was all I said, all I needed to say, but as soon as I said it, silence fell dead in the air between us. I bit my lip, glancing up at him from under my eyelashes, only to see that he was already looking at me.
He rubbed the back of his neck before heaving a sigh, "Give me a minute. I have to go... get something." Peeta turned around, taking off so quickly that I blinked and he was gone. I pursed my lips and turned away, deciding to ignore his dodgy behaviour.
I heaved another sigh, something I seemed to be doing a lot lately, looking around and scanning the room. Suddenly, my eyes landed on him walking towards me, making my eyes widen. He was wearing a nice, silver suit, although his hair was styled like a girls. But it was the smirk on his lips that made my slips twist into a scowl, and my fingernails dig into my palms.
He sidled up next to me, leaning against the wall on my right side on his left arm, which was crossed through his left arm. He hovered over me; he smirked as if the other night hadn't even happened. "Nice tiara."
"Nice hair. Almost mistook you for Glimmer on your way over," I said quickly, the rebuttal rolling off my tongue, accompanied with a small smirk. I shifted a little, ignoring his towering presence and staring ahead.
Cato chuckled a little, the sound deep and gravely. "Feeling feisty today, are we?"
I turned to him and sharpened my glare, my eyes narrowing as much as they could with the false eyelashes. "Feeling annoying today, are we?" I said, mocking him with a fake chuckle.
Cato didn't hesitate before speaking again, his joking tone gone. "I don't suppose you've reconsidered?" Cato asked, raising an eyebrow. His blue eyes held me in place, my breath coming slow and raspy. I didn't even realize at the time how affected I was by his presence, nor did I see the small flicker of hope in his eyes.
"If I had, would I have called you a girl?" I said in response, pursing my lips. Cato chuckled in response, glancing away before looking back at me, his expression surprisingly intense, erupting a fire in my stomach. "I suppose not," he purred, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers shooting down my spine.
I took a deep breath, "Okay, what's your deal?" I asked, shifting myself to lean against my right arm and mirror Cato's position. I still had to look up them, though. "I saw you with Peeta when you thought he took your knife. If Peeta said what I just said to you, you'd threaten to torture him in fifty different ways. Hell, you probably would in the Arena!" I exclaimed, refraining from letting my hands wave around as I talked; a habit of mine.
Cato smirked, and leaned over me a little more, making my breath catch as he towered over me. My muscles tensed, and I felt my fight or flight response kick in. "You're not that guy from 12," Cato breathed.
I snorted, looking away from his intense gaze. "I know, I have better hair," I said. When my gaze finally wandered back to him, I saw him still staring at me, observing me in the way a lion watches a piece of meat.
"You certainly do," Cato said, the dark edge in his tone sending shivers down my back, twisting my nerves and breaking them in half.
It was only when Cato moved closer to me that I shook out of my reverie and scowled, narrowing my eyes. "Okay, back the hell off before I make you, because I am not some toy you can play with because you're bored, and I'm sure as hell not a piece of meat," I said, my gaze sharp.
Cato frowned a little, opening his mouth to retort when a voice rang out through the room, making my spine straighten. "Tributes, get in line!" Cato threw me one last look before pushing off the wall and walking away, up to the front of the line, where he took fourth place. I stared after him as he left, my breath shaking as it left my lungs.
Everyone had a persona. Everyone acted the way their mentors told them to, and I couldn't exactly blame them. I was going to do the same thing, after all. You couldn't be yourself; being yourself was dangerous. The Capitol was watching our every move, and if I said one thing wrong... that could mean life or death in the Arena. I wouldn't put it past the Gamemakers to tilt the scales.
Glimmer was bubbly, and exaggerated. I saw it coming from a mile away, but that didn't mean watching her interview was less painful. She wore a dress that was practically transparent, and a false smile that made me want to smack her. Regardless, the Capitolians in the stadium loved her, I could tell from the thunderous applause that deafened me even from backstage.
Marvel went for funny, a persona I was fairly certain all male tributes were going to go with. After all, who doesn't like a guy that makes you laugh? All the while, Caesar looked to be on a high from being so close to the Careers.
Clove was lovely, nothing at all like real life. Her pretty, pink dress gave her an innocent appearance that made Caesar take a totally different approach when interviewing her that he did Glimmer, and it made me realize that what Cinna and Haymitch said was right; appearance really is everything in the Capitol. He asked about her score, and how she felt about the Games. She answered all of the questions with a sickly sweet smile and a light tilt of the head.
I knew Cato was next. My muscles knew it before my mind did, because I started wringing my hands just as Clove's interview started to wrap up. And, damn myself straight to hell, I paid attention as Cato was introduced, and he walked out on stage. I was curious to see how the boy that, as it seemed, was going to be my mortal enemy in the Arena, would act.
"You've heard of him. He's the male tribute from District 2, Cato Hadley!" Caesar exclaimed, holding his hands out grandly for Cato's entrance as the Capitolians clapped wildly, some even whistling and yelling in support.
Cato walked out with a smirk on his face, his suit glimmering in the light that hit him from every angle. His blond hair gleamed as he walked over to Caesar and grasped his hand firmly in a handshake. Caesar's excited laugh was caught by the microphones, and I could hear it from the television in the waiting room as well as the stage.
"So, Cato!" Caesar exclaimed as they both sat down in their respective seats opposite one another, Cato calmly crossing his legs. "Tell me about training. Was it difficult?" Caesar asked. I could recognize the bait from a mile away; could recognize that Caesar knew the answer as well as Cato did, and had just asked the question to entertain the crowds with how lethal the Careers truly were.
Cato let out a loud arrogant laugh, making me scowl at the television while Caesar grinned. "Not at all, Caesar. Just some fun before the Games," Cato said, his eyes glinting like a sharks, making my stomach twist into knots.
"So, you're excited for the Games?" Caesar asked, another bait. Cato turned to the crowd and smirked, prompting the girls in the crowd to scream excitedly. I rolled my eyes; if they couldn't tell that he was a killer that would rip their guts out without a second thought, that was their funeral.
"It's an honour representing my District," came Cato's answer as he turned back to Caesar. My eyebrows raised, as I could tell that that was an honest answer. No propaganda, no persona, Cato truly was proud to represent District 2 in the Games.
"So you're a fighter?" Caesar asked, making the assumption. I couldn't help but nod in agreement before Cato had even answered.
"I'm prepared, I'm vicious, I'm ready to go," Cato answered, nodding. His jaw was tense, clenched, and I could see it through the high definition camera feed. The crowd screamed in response, and I could practically feel Capitolians betting on him already.
Caesar waited a few more moments before speaking again, as soon as the screams had died down. "So, Cato! I think that I have to ask this question for all the ladies in the room," Caesar said, and the girls screamed in response. "Do you have a special someone?" I had a feeling this was going to be a common question in the interviews to come.
"Actually, I do."
I immediately felt bad for the poor girl. How terrible would it be, not only to date Cato Hadley, but also have to watch him go into the Games, and talk about how prepared he is to kill. Unless all people in 2 are this bloodthirsty.
"Do tell, do tell!" Caesar said against the excited yells of the crowd, leaning forward in his chair. Even though Cato's admission seemed to disappoint the ladies in the room, the entire crowd was excited at the prospect of a love story.
Cato let out a sinister laugh, leaning forward in his chair to mimic Caesar's movements before stage-whispering, like he was telling a secret. "How about this: I'll tell you when I win."
The crowd yelled out in protest, although a lot of people cheered at Cato's confidence. Caesar groaned dramatically, whining into the microphone, "Come on, Cato, don't make us wait!"
Cato laughed and leaned back, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! I'll tell you one thing. You know her a lot better than you think."
I pulled my eyebrows together, puzzled. Perhaps it was Clove or Glimmer, that wouldn't surprise me much. They both threw themselves over him, so it wouldn't be that far of a leap...
"Cato Hadley, not giving me anything!" Caesar exclaimed, standing to his feet, prompting Cato to stand up with him. "Cato!" Caesar exclaimed, grabbing Cato's hand and raising it high in the air.
Time passed. The following interviews were boring, nothing eliciting my attention. Instead, my nerves were jumping out of my skin, nausea turning in my stomach. My heart was beating out of my chest, echoing in my ears as my time came closer and closer. The cries from outside became thunderous, echoing my heartbeat. I couldn't even listen to the last few interviews leading up to own, the anxiety was that crushing. I didn't understand; I wasn't nervous before, when we were training, or when we were in the tribute parade. But, deep down, I knew that there was no way to avoid it. All eyes were going to be on me.
The man who had collected the 22 tributes before me came towards me, placing his hand on my shoulder. It wasn't comforting; it was herding, like I was cattle and it was his job to get me in the pen. I had no doubt that that was the job description.
The man dressed in odd Capitolian clothing led me forwards, only removing his hand once I was standing right by the stage entrance, shrouded my just enough darkness so I wasn't visible to the crowd outside.
"From District 12, you know her as the girl on fire!" Caesar exclaimed in the microphone, and while I could hear him before, his voice was thunderous now. The crowd went insane, screaming at the mention of my 'nickname' as I desperately tried to calm my heartbeat. "We also know her as the gorgeous and lovely Rowan Everdeen!"
I took that as my cue.
My heels clicked against the hard floor of the stage as I walked forwards, trying to not trip over the train of my dress. I held my head up high, as I did at the reaping, like I was proud to be there.
As soon as the light hit me, making my eyeshadow glitter and my hair shine, the crowd's screaming increased tenfold, drowning me in their cheers. I was momentarily blinded by the spotlight on me, but I managed to focus on Caesar's figure. His hand was held out towards me as he grinned from where he was standing; the center of the stage.
I beamed at Caesar as soon as I reached him, revealing the rows of strangely white teeth in my gleaming smile. I outstretched my hand to meet his, which he took gently and brought up to his lips.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome!" Caesar exclaimed, planting a kiss on my hand before releasing it, letting me drop it back to my side.
He sat down in his chair, so I mirrored the action, gently sitting down on the second chaise before crossing my legs as delicately as I could. My chin still rested high in the air, my shoulders back. I wanted to be the girl on fire, the image that Cinna had for me. If it would help me survive, then damn the humiliation of playing the president's game.
"Rowan, Rowan, Rowan," Caesar said, my atypical name flowing off his tongue, lilted by his Capitolian accent. "I don't think any of us have been able to get you off our minds since your entrance at the tribute parade the other day," Caesar said with an impish grin.
I managed to smile back, batting my heavy false eyelashes at him, and then at the crowd. "It was pretty explosive, wasn't it," I grinned. I made a risk going with the pun, but the crowd laughed all the same, entertained by me interacting with them.
Caesar laughed too, the noise echoing into the microphone and through the speakers. "When you came out, in the chariot, I have to say, I was worried for you. I thought you were actually on fire!" Caesar exclaimed, looking to the crowd, prompting noises of agreement.
I let out a laugh, making sure it was as feminine as possible. "Trust me, Caesar, I was worried, same as you!" I exclaimed, making sure to not move my hair too much, for fear of losing the tiara. The crowd laughed again, like a sound effect that couldn't be turned off.
"So, tell me about the flames. Are they real?" Caesar asked, leaning forward the same as he had with Cato. I smirked a little, remembering my words with Cinna earlier, and knowing this was the opportunity.
"Yes. In fact, I'm wearing them today. Would you like to see?" I answered, smirking widely. This seemed to excite the crowd, and they cheered twice as loudly as they did for Cato. I had to make sure my eyebrows didn't raise in surprise; I was genuinely shocked. I didn't think that many people were rooting for me, the underdog from 12. Or, I suppose I wasn't the underdog anymore.
Caesar frowned, and I could see the false hesitance in his eyes. I wondered whether any of this was real or not, or if he was as fake as the flames I wore. "Wait, wait, wait. Is it safe?"
I raised my eyebrows, leaning back and placing my hands on my knees. "Well, I would hope so! I'm not planning on burning alive anytime soon," I said, tilting my head to the side.
Caesar let out a loud, booming laugh before turning back to the crowd, holding out his hands grandly. "What do you think folks?" Caesar asked, and the cheering from the crowd was an answer enough.
Caesar watched as I pulled myself up despite the pounds of fabric weighing me down, and walked to the edge of the stage. I looked out at the crowd, finding that when you're actually onstage, they're just a blur of lights and whispers. I smirked, widely, impishly, and took a step forward, twisting around.
I twirled, my shoes exposed when the dress lifted up in the air, and lit on fire. The false fire gave off an unearthly glow, lighting up the air around me and exploding into a beacon of light. I twirled again and again as the stadium erupted in excitement and applause, the flames growing by the second.
I twirled twelve times. I doubted anyone noticed that I did, or noticed the meaning. That number represented me; my District, my score... I was 12.
I landed on the edge of my heel, planting and facing the crowd with a grin as I took in the applause. After a moment, I turned around and sat back down at the chaise, shifting before looking up to see Caesar's awestruck expression. Unlike his other facades, I could tell that his awe was not faked. It was genuine.
"That was really something, Rowan," Caesar smiled warmly, making my lips twitch in anticipation for what was coming. I still smiled in response, waiting until he would ask his next question.
"I have a few more questions for you, and I'll start with the hard one. It's about your sisters."
I knew it would come, but I still flinched and looked down, my lips pursing. I heard a few 'awws' from the crowd, even though that was not the intent.
"We were all very moved, I think, when you volunteered for your sister at the reaping. Did your sisters come and say goodbye to you?" Caesar asked, leaning forwards and planting a sympathetic expression on his face. All the while, he interacted with the crowd, making anger boil in my stomach. What made these people think they had the right to be entertained by the mess they had made of my life?
"They did," I nodded in response, for fear that if I said any more, my anger would show.
"They did," Caesar repeated. "And what did you say to them, in the end?" Caesar inquired, slowly, drawing it out; drawing out my torture.
Haymitch had told me what to say, bless him. I stuck my chin out, my tiara glittering in the light. "I told them I would win for them," I said, nodding to myself.
"Of course you did," Caesar smirked, like he knew something I didn't.
After a moment, Caesar jumped back into the excitement, turning to the crowd with a giant grin I wanted to smach off his face. "How many of you here have heard of the phenomenal score of the girl on fire?" Caesar asked. The crowd screaming, and I forced a gracious smile on my lips. "Tell me, Rowan, what did you do to recieve such a score?" Caesar asked, turning back to me.
I smiled, showing my teeth again as I looked out at the crowd. "Well, I can't tell you that. It's a secret." It was bait, and Caesar knew it. I was turning the tables, and just the thought made me internally smile.
"You can tell me anything, Rowan!" Caesar exclaimed, and the crowd nodded in agreement. I almost outright laughed at how predictable the Capitolians were.
"Well, let's just say this," I smirked, leaning forwards. I knew I was showing the crowd more than necessary of my cleavage, but it was nothing my fellow tributes haven't done.
"The odds are in my favor."
xxx