sunday six: hunger games au
An excerpt from Chapter Two of The Firebird, by allstartstofade and mystarsandmyocean (myself):
“Take it,” Thea demands, her palm curling around her gift. It isn’t quite a brooch, Felicity amends - that description too stuffy - but a golden circle, from which a bird emerges, both symbols backed by a pin. Thea’s hand shoves her offering closer, her smile folding into wide eyes and a trembling lip, reminders that for all her bravado, Thea is still barely past childhood.
Tracing the circle with her middle finger, Felicity notices tiny, golden flames falling from the bird’s wings and tail - not a bird then at all, but a phoenix, like in the stories that had preceded the Dark Days. Felicity’s never seen something so beautiful - or so old. Not much remains from the times before the Games; most relics locked away in Capitol museums. “Thea,” she murmurs reverently, “I can’t accept this.”
“Mom gave it to me this morning,” Thea scoffs, pressing her palm into Felicity’s. “She said it would protect me from being reaped.” She pulls away, leaving the pin in Felicity’s hand. “Stupid, I know. But….then again, they didn’t choose me.”
They chose you hangs unspoken between them. Another puzzle pieces clicks into place for Felicity.
“What happened today wasn’t your fault,” Felicity says, placing her free hand on Thea’s knee. She waits until Thea meets her gaze before continuing. “They didn’t choose you - that’s a good thing. But that doesn’t mean that you chose me instead.”
Felicity would never ask anyone to make that sort of choice for her.
Thea nods, a tentative smile not quite there. “I still want you to keep it,” Thea insists, a Queen in every way but victory, “I wore it, and I didn’t get reaped. Maybe if you wear it, it’ll help you win the Games. Or, I don’t know, brighten up your outfits. Those interview clothes have to be flashy, right? Ollie always looks like such a peacock up there.”
This time, Felicity’s laugh is the one just shy of tentative, her struggle with the pin’s old clasp hiding the tears in her eyes. She’s never worn anything but hand-me-downs and stitched-together remnants; she can’t even imagine wearing the glamour of the Capitol. She’s suddenly glad she took a bath that morning, though she’s sure it won’t be enough to make her fit for Capitol couture. The door to the room swings open before she can answer, Rob interrupting with a firm, “Miss Queen?”
“Thank you,” Thea whispers, pulling Felicity in for one final hug, “I believe in you!”
Want to read more? The Firebird: Prologue | Chapter 1
