mina is still dressed in her finery , the prized lamb to the slaughter with blanche's hand in her own , glistening like a christmas ornament upon her sister's dried out branches . she sparkles , because this has been the image that sold her to this wretched city , even as she grows older mina is dressed as something pretty , something shiny . she's a beacon to those that want her , and the eyes begin to roam , over her .
" go find your friends , " mina says quietly to her sister , eyes following the little silver head as it disappears towards some of the other tributes she had befriended , little social butterfly . mina doesn't want this for her , doesn't want to open blanche up to the truth of the life she leads when she comes to the capitol .
she orders something without alcohol in it , and is handed a pretty , sparkling drink . pink and bubbly as everything mina interacts with must be . she notices a nearby glance and she'll take it , any excuse to hide from the old businessman she spots coming closer . " yes it was true . that's what you're wondering , isn't it ? old dewitt is knocked up and going to her death . "
( 3/ 3 ) their eyes aren't on her tonight , so will slips from the lounge and out of the tribute center . it's a balmy night , the air licks pleasantly at her arms , and she can almost imagine that none of this is happening ; war lurking around the corner like a bad dream . this is what she has trained her whole life for , and then she sees those kids in there and can't help but wonder who's gonna make it out .
she shoves the thoughts from her mind , instead reaching for her communicator and shooting off a quick , coded message to her team back in thirteen . the slamming of doors startles her , and she turns with a start . her communicator is shoved into her pockets , replaced with a pack of cigarettes and a sheepish smile as she slips back into character . " you caught me , " she waves the cigarette packet . " trying to quit but . . . easier said than done . want one ? "
apollo is still breathless as they're ushered into the lounge , his hand clasped in alex's , their feet moving in unison . there was uproar from the crowd , he remembers that much but he doesn't really know what happened . it was a whirlwind , and now he feels the press of his little gold ring on alex's finger , pushing against his own skin , it sets him on fire , burns him alive . there's a chance now , isn't there ? maybe they'll put a stop to this .
he finds a quiet corner , ignoring the scared looks on the other victors' faces , the tension in the room close to breaking and he can't stand the idea that they could ruin this moment . he's a boy in denial , he's in love and it's the only thing he will allow his mind to land upon . he will allow it to consume him . " oh my god . " he pulls alex around to look at him , presses a hand to their cheek as though to check that they're still here , that this is happening . " was that real ? " he asks , voice low , desperate for a privacy that the world will never give to them . " did you mean it ? "
a man , exhausted , sits in the lounge . he feels as though he is always here , always rooted to the spot with a drink in his hand , ice clinking against a fine crystal he wants nothing more than to fling at the wall . begging for the satisfaction of the crack and the clatter , to feel his rage working its way from his head to his arm to the glass shattering on the perfect tiles of this perfect place .
they'd had a win tonight , though . at least they had that . he'd watched flickerman's face , the fear shuddering in and out of focus like static but it was there , and he drinks to that now . " another banner night in the capitol . " he snorts , looking up as he's joined in his booth , the mood lighting softens the lines upon his face and he watches them with interest . " wonder what comes next . "
cameras flash , each shutter blinding her , repeating against her retinas until all she can see is white . lydia is happy to take the attention off of the rebellion if just for a moment , to smile and wave , blow kisses , flutter eyelashes . if it allows the victors a moment to get away from the stage and those shifty eyes in the audience to slip past unnoticed , the damage to her eyes is the least she can do .
finally she is allowed into the lounge , orders a dirty martini and slips through the crowd of those confused little faces . why aren't they allowed up ? what in the world is keeping all of them there ? the games are tomorrow , and lydia is certain that snow isn't behind this . still , she plays dumb , sips on her martini between painted pink lips as though none of this is a bother to her . " shouldn't those kids be in bed by now ? " she sighs , her voice taking on that wistful , wispy sound she has cultivated in her public image . " big , big day tomorrow , after all . "
coming up in the capitol , fulvia cannot recall have the friends they'd made , the grievances , the drama of high society . upon meeting glitter , things had clicked so easily into place and the two of them had been so close . but fulvia is the villain in this story , something haunting , lingering like a stale smell ; how easily they had cut her out after glimmer's death . image obsessed little thing that she was back then , still is to a degree , but how could someone born within the districts ever understand the pressure of this life ?
they approach with caution — via knows what's coming , they can feel the pressure of war creeping up on them . they don't want to go into all of this with regret nipping at their heels . " glitter . . . can we talk ? "
“ juniper , you practically raised tilly and bobbin before all of our eyes , it honestly felt like watching our child get reaped . but how does it feel to leave bobbin behind ? ”
“ it’s been so long since we last saw tilly in the capitol , we have loved every visit we got though . do you think our love of your children will help with sponsors ? ”
“ when you left for the capitol , you had no idea you would be volunteering that very next day . is there anything you would like to say to bobbin that you never got to on reaping day ? ”
— feel free to include more questions & answers , caesar usually has around 5 minutes with each tribute
“ juniper , you practically raised tilly and bobbin before all of our eyes , it honestly felt like watching our child get reaped . but how does it feel to leave bobbin behind ? ”
she isn't surprised when he mentions both of her children; that had been her intention from the beginning, hadn't it? she had wanted to endear her children to those watching, had wanted those cameras to capture each bright smile and bell-like baby laugh and broadcast them to every home in panem all in the hopes of making them as beloved as their own children. she had wanted it to feel as if it was their child being reaped, hoping that would save them from ever being so; now with it being said to her as if it were fact, it only leaves her angry. ( if it truly did feel as if she were your child, where is your outrage? ) "you flatter me, caesar-- but now, we both know that's stretching the truth a bit don't we?" her voice is warm and calm, carrying that light musicality to it that softens the edge that curves around each word, "i think if it truly felt as if your child was reaped, there would be a far greater outcry in the streets of our dear capitol."
it hadn't been the strategy she had in mind before stepping onto the stage but the best laid plans were quickly forgotten when all of it's been for nought. she's played her part-- damn her if she hadn't played it better than most. her nan had told her once that their family had never been quiet but she had become a mouse- mouth silent and eyes cast down; she had done everything that was commanded of her time and time again, had shared the most beautiful and precious parts of her life with the world with silent but desperate pleas of ( see them-- see them and love them and protect them-- ). had thought her silence and compliance would be enough to keep them safe only for it to be thrown in her face-- and oh, to then be reminded of all that and how it had amounted to nothing? no, she was done being quiet. this might be the last chance she has to use it, they would hear her voice tonight-- they gave her a whole five minutes, she was going to use every last damn second.
"it feels like having your heart slowly ripped from your chest," the demure expression never leaves her face, voice still calm and gentle as full lips pull in a soft smile that's so at odds with the sharpness in her gaze, "from the moment i volunteered it's been as if someone has been slowly pushing their hand into my chest- tearing flesh and muscle and breaking through bone- to grab a hold of my heart in their grip and now as each day ends and we get closer to the arena, that hand has begun to twist." she pauses with a soft, humorless chuckle, tilting her head and squinting her eyes at caesar with an almost airy question of, "how do you think it feels, caesar? to know that i won't see my son again? that i won't get to hold him again? that i won't get to watch him grow up?" then, as if she realized something, she does laugh- another light, airy sound- reaching to gently shake caesar's knee, like the two of them are sharing a joke, "that is, if he's allowed to grow up. who's to say his name won't end up in an escort's hand in a matter of years?" her nose scrunches and shoulders lift in a slight shrug, "what a lovely reunion that would be for you all."
“ it’s been so long since we last saw tilly in the capitol , we have loved every visit we got though . do you think our love of your children will help with sponsors ? ”
speaking of reunions-- she knows caesar is trying to gain control over the interview- to get them back on track. the mask has yet to crack, her face still set in that demure expression and she turns that mask towards the faceless crowd, their features blurred from the bright lights that pound down on her. "who is to say?" and her eyes scan that crowd as if waiting for an answer before turning back to caesar, "i hope so, of course i do. the amount of stories people have been regaling to myself- and to tilly herself- of when she was younger and i brought her with me give me hope-- of course, i don't think half of those folks were quite prepared for the moody teenager she's become." and there's the first laugh that ripples through the crowd- oh, who didn't love a moody teenager? who hadn't been one themselves once upon a time? june gives another one of those airy laughs, eyes rolling in played up exasperation and she turns to caesar, "i told her that the attitude really only works for katniss but you know, it's almost as if she doesn't care how precious most people thought her to be when she's going to have to fight for her life at the week."
another one of those uncomfortable silences hangs in the air as she pauses, lifting a leg to cross over her knee and leaning in towards caesar as if they were just two friends sitting and gossiping, "now of course, i impressed upon her how important it was for her to play nice with sponsors. you can look at any number of us who have stood on this stage and pinpoint the exact moment when sponsor support kept us from meeting the same grisly end as those in our arenas. but," and she leans back, spreading her hands, "in the end, we all know that district eight is a lower district-- we're rarely the favorite. most sponsors pick their favorites the moment the reaping ends and only a percentage of them can be swayed during the week. and try as i might, i cannot get her to appeal to sponsors; it's almost as if she realized much sooner than i did that it was another level of degradation, to beg for others to care about your life. isn't it amazing how children come to realizations that we as adults don't want to think about?" she pauses for the briefest of moments, watching as caesar tries to gather himself before turning back to the crowd, "from the mouths of babes, right?"
“ when you left for the capitol , you had no idea you would be volunteering that very next day . is there anything you would like to say to bobbin that you never got to on reaping day ? ”
he might as well have asked her if she had any last words like the villain in any fairytale story. the mask doesn't slip but the skin around her eyes goes soft and the corners of her mouth dip down at the question. "oh, there would never be enough time for me to say all that i never got to, caesar," she says softly, eyes dropping to her hands in her lap before turning in the seat to face the crowd, looking directly at one of the camera silhouettes behind those bright lights. and for a moment, she forgets where she is-- forgets who sits next to her and those who sit ahead of her ( watching each one of them that stepped onto this stage rip their hearts out and plaster them on their sleeves in hopes of gaining sympathy, of gaining support so they might be able to go home once more ). for a moment, she's back at home in eight, sitting on the rocking chair in front of the house in the victor's village with her darling boy in her lap. hands twitch in her lap, twisting the fabric of her dress between trembling fingers to keep from reaching out to brush unruly curls from his eyes or sweeping thumbs across freckled cheeks that weren't there no matter how desperately she wished they were. for a moment, she's home.
"bobbin-- my darling boy, my sweet son--" and emotion fills her throat, chokes her for a moment before she swallows it down, "you and your sister are the best things in in my life-- the best things i ever did-- my pride and my joy. being your mother has been the greatest honor and i wish--" and her voice cracks, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes but she puts steel in her voice, pushing forward, "i wish for a lot of things. more time with both of you being at the top of that list. i know that right now, you're still too young to understand but i hope one day, you'll see that i had no choice-- that none of us had any choice. that i would have never left you but i could never leave your sister either. remember that i loved you both with everything in me-- that from the moment both of you were born, you were the reason i breathe. remember that i did everything i could to get your sissy back to you. remember who made it so i could never come back to you." and that mask begins to crack, tears spilling over cheeks from dark eyes that blaze as she stares into that camera, "don't let yourself be silenced. you stand for what's right no matter how hard it is, no matter how your voice shakes, no matter how they try to keep you quiet. all it takes is one voice to start singing and others are bound to join in. remember the old songs, my bobbin boy-- remember why they don't want us to sing them: because together we're more powerful than they will ever be. remember that--"
there's more that chokes her, rising up in her throat as a sob that she covers with her hand, turning away from that camera as she fights to regain her composure ( airk-- my love, don't wait-- don't linger there any longer-- grab him and run-- ) and caesar takes it as an opportunity to reach for her hand, patting it in sympathy that she has never been able to tell if it's genuine or just another part of the show. his voice is drowned out by the roaring in her own ears, the feeling of nausea that washes over her ( i've killed us both-- i've killed us both and them too-- why couldn't i have just gone along with the plan? why-- ) but she knows why and when caesar takes her hand to guide her to stand to the scattered applause throughout the chamber, her eyes turn towards the side of the stage; to the figure of tilly standing there with her chin lifted and tears streaming down her face, a look of fierce pride in her face. she was done being quiet-- she only wished she'd gained her voice sooner to set a better example for her daughter.
“ volt , pretty much all of us just adore your watches and will miss your expertise if you don’t come back to us . will your token be yet another watch this time around ? ”
“ tell us a little bit about the collection , you’ve been teasing it for a while now ? is the final piece complete ? ”
“ ellie is a lucky girl to have such a brave uncle going into the arena with her , your sister would be so proud . if you could speak to her one last time before the arena , what would you say ? ”
— feel free to include more questions & answers , caesar usually has around 5 minutes with each tribute
“ volt , pretty much all of us just adore your watches and will miss your expertise if you don’t come back to us . will your token be yet another watch this time around ? ”
there's a quiet humility in the way his mouth picks up in a gentle curve at the mention of his watches, the art he'd spent the better part of two decades creating— art that would only increase in value the moment his cannon boomed in the arena. but the mention of the token has his right hand unconsciously creeping to the band of gold on his wrist, twirling the cuff before rubbing his thumb across the inlaid band of jasper. "no— i think i learned my lesson last time," he says with a laugh that sounds almost canned, "having something that ticks in a pitch black cave system was perhaps not my smartest move." thinks back to how he'd smashed that heirloom between two rocks, shattering the glass face and denting the hammered bronze until it fell silent; thinks back to how it had been the gateway into those art pieces that made him oh so popular among those painted faces, how mending that broken timepiece had felt a little like mending the broken pieces of himself that had been shattered in the arena— how he'd been able to take that ruined piece and breathe new life into it, how the project had breathed new life into him.
there's this desire to look out into the crowd of shadowed painted and glittering faces- to let his eyes seek them out, knowing that somewhere in the crowd they were watching— ( you breathed new life into me too. ) instead volt turns his gaze back to caesar, mouth fighting to keep his smile warm and pleasant despite how the question has his heart flipping and sinking all at once, "i've picked something much quieter this time— never let it be said that i don't learn my lessons." pause for laughter; caesar presses and it's then that volt turns his gaze towards the crowd, letting his eyes sweep over those featureless faces as if all of them and he were sharing some private joke before turning to caesar, "now, we all know i'm not much for jewelry myself- we've talked about this—" another pause for laughter, the joke being how volt was every stylists nightmare; that any time he was adorned with any sort of jewelry, it inevitably ended slipped off and ended stuffed into pockets— and when they had tried to correct this problem by removing his own pockets, they ended up in others pockets. rings felt clunky on his fingers and necklaces weighed on his neck and bracelets on his wrists; pause for laughter; his mouth pulled in a wide smile and his own chuckle adding to the tittering noise before his expression sobers up and eyes drop to the cuff on his wrist, "to take it off now in exchange for any other token would honestly leave me feeling quite naked, if i'm being perfectly honest, i'm just so used to it being there." and true to caesar's form, there's that prompting- let's see it!— and the crowd joins in. it's all a performance- the playful reluctance that gives way to an exaggerated eye roll and a mouth that stretches into a near bashful grin before he moves to pull back the sleeve of his suit jacket and shirt to flash the simple golden wrist cuff, the beige jasper running in a band through the center, turning it first towards the host across from him, feeling caesar's hand move to cradle his wrist as if to inspect it before turning it out towards the crowd; there it is folks! after all these years, we finally got him to accessorize!
it's a rippling wave of laughter that goes through the crowd, punctuated by some whoops and whistles and volt joins in on the laughter- it's all a good joke, shared between friends- but when he draws his hand back to him as the laughter dies down, there's the slightest pinkish hue to his cheeks.
“ tell us a little bit about the collection , you’ve been teasing it for a while now ? is the final piece complete ? ”
he's grateful for the transition away from that token and back to the watches, his eyes lighting up at the question and he reaches out to give caesar's wrists a light shake, "i was hoping you would ask that. though, if i'm being perfectly honest, i did not realize that the piece i was currently working on would be that potential final piece— or that i would be working on such a crunched time frame in order to finish it. even so, i have to say, i think it might be my best yet." there's that secret satisfied smile gracing his face as he leans closer towards caesar, "would it be alright if i showed it off?" the delight in caesar's expression is to be expected as is the hum coming off the crowd and volt can almost feel as if they too are leaning in closer from their seats in that grand auditorium. his hand dips into the pocket of his jacket— first comes the chain, black titanium links that glint in the bright stage lights, followed by the watch itself. instead of the sleek flat circular case design, when it leaves his pocket volt reveals the jet black sphere connected to the chain by a bow of the same color. as he lets the watch spin at the end of that chain, the light catches the glittering circles that cover the entire piece.
the chain wraps around his hand and his other palm moves to cradle that sphere turning it towards caesar, "i have to admit, this project was a bit more challenging- the spherical case design was something that i had wanted to explore more with further pieces but if this is to be my last piece, it's one i would be proud to leave." his thumb runs over glittering circles- mother of pearl inlaid into the surface with such care- and over the small bumps of opals that catch the light and splinter off into rainbow hues. his smile turns a bit sly as he looks over at the host, "you know, caesar, there's a secret with my watches-- in the case designs." the watch case settles in the middle of his palm and his opposite hand traces those circles, "i've never made two watches the same; while most people look at the embellishments on the case as nothing more than an artist's flare-- they must think i really like circles." and he pauses for the quiet ripple of laughter, turning his attention to that crowd before winking, "which- i do- but it's more than just my own particular filigree; it's a language." another one of those pauses but instead of laughter, his ears pick up a quiet murmur that runs through the crowd, "hence the difference in the design of this final piece-- i had quite a bit to say for this last piece. a secret i had planned on keeping for much longer but, should i not return from the arena, i wanted to leave panem with that knowledge. i'm sure there are those who will take great care in trying to translate those messages-- i can only hope they take as much joy in the puzzle of translating them as i did in creating them."
gathering the chain in his hand, he turns to take one of caesar's hands, pressing the watch and chain in his palm, "i wonder if you might do me one last kindness, caesar." of course, the host is all too eager to agree and volt's mouth pulls in a toothless smile, "this last piece is a gift-- a gift to whoever wins the hunger games this year. i wonder if you might hold onto it for me until then-- and do me the honor of presenting the piece to them." that smile goes a little teasing and his head tilts to the side, turning back to the crowd, "and you have all bore witness to me requesting this so, in the event caesar decides to hold onto the piece for himself, you all can hold him accountable. i expect there to be rioting in this chamber should he not honor my final request." another laugh ripples through the crowd but he can feel the unease that's settling over them at the thought. ( good. )
“ ellie is a lucky girl to have such a brave uncle going into the arena with her , your sister would be so proud . if you could speak to her one last time before the arena , what would you say ? ”
the smile on his face nearly freezes in place- a lucky girl, such a brave uncle, your sister would be so proud— before slowly slipping off, replaced with a furrowed brow and lips that purse to keep from frowning and his hand lifts to rub at his chin, trying to hide that slip and disguise it as an expression of deep thought. he knows the ploy: winding down the interview with something heartfelt and genuine, giving him the opportunity to play up that selfless act, to show the love for his sister and his niece as something deeply relatable to anyone who had ever loved another person more than himself— as if his volunteering for ellie were anything but an extreme act of selfishness; as if his sister, rest her soul, could look at the displays of the week as anything to be proud of.
"caesar, i'm afraid i have to disagree with you— i don't think she would be proud; i think she would be horrified," and his voice is soft, picked up by the mic on his lapel and sent out in gentle waves out into the crowd, "it's an easy thing to imagine- a lovely thought, don't get me wrong- that she would see my volunteering as some great selfless act of love; and perhaps she would at first. but once that first wave of relief had crashed over her, i can't help but think of how she would look further out-- that instead of losing only her daughter, she would stand to lose both of us. and not just us, but hita and nilani whom my sister dearly loved before her passing. it's easy to imagine that those who wait back in our districts look to us as selfless heroes, moving to stand beside the ones we love as champions for them but in the end, we all know that only one person will walk out of that arena and that our volunteering, no matter how we want to twist it, was done for selfish motivations. we all want our child to be the one who makes it out." there's a tightness in his expression, thinly veiled sorrow and regret lining his face, "we all want our own to be the one who walks out and we will do terrible things to those we have called friends for years in order to make that happen-- to their children. how can we expect any of those we left behind to look at this with any sense of pride?" his eyes move back to caesar's face, "truthfully, i'm glad she isn't here to see this. that i don't have to make those promises to her- that i will do whatever is necessary to keep ellie safe, even against those that i love.
"if i had to leave any parting words, it wouldn't be for violet-- it would be for those who will be left afterwards, the family the games created for us without even realizing it," and his eyes go past caesar, off to the far end of the stage and while those bright lights obscure his vision, he knows that they're standing off to the side of the stage, just out of sight: io, hermes, nilani, solara, hita and elianna. and even beyond them to dante, finch, mina, peeta-- all the faces up and down the line of those volunteers waiting for their turn in the spotlight and the mentors who wouldn't enter the arena again but instead would have to watch helplessly from the outside; there's that urge to look out into the crowd ( to look for their face ), but he keeps his eyes looking past caesar and his hands lift to sign, 'no matter what happens, know that i loved you; know that if i lived a hundred years, it would have never been enough time to be in your company. we were brought together through violence but love is what binds us together and i want you to never forget that-- even if i never walk out of that arena, you are all so tightly wound around my heart that i will carry you with me to whatever lies after-- i hope that you will carry me too.' he pauses a moment, feeling a lump of emotion rise in his throat and his hands tremble; he brings the three fingers of his right hand to his mouth, kissing them and making as if to blow the kiss only to let those fingers turn out towards those hidden in the wings, "i wouldn't change a thing."
caesar's hand settles on his knee and it pulls his attention back to the host, that mask of empathy on his face and whatever final words of comfort he says are lost on volt; it's just noise that rattles uselessly in his ears, never quite making it to the processing part of his mind. he follows caesar as he stands though, grasping the hand that's held out to him before he's pulled into a hug that lacks the warmth of any real camaraderie, feeling the host turn him back out towards the crowd that claps politely, confusion painted on the faces of those capitol citizens as those last words went right over their heads. he doesn't linger on the stage, walking with that slight limp out of those blinding lights and into the wings, feeling elianna's body slam into his chest.
arms wrap around her and he can feel her shoulders shake and moisture begin to seep through the shirt he's worn; he ignores the sound of caesar announcing the next volunteer from district four, focusing instead on the little girl in his arms, whispering into her hair, "i know-- i know--" and he wants to tell her it'll be alright but the words get stuck in his throat and all that will leave him is that simple acknowledgement; he knows. and he's so deeply sorry.
