Soli Deo gloria
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The Hunger Games.
Effie was SO GOOD in Mockingjay parts I + II. How can you not love her? XD
The dying white rose caught Effie's eye and promptly held her full attention.
She stopped in her steps, letting the rest of the camera crew disappear into the war-rooms ahead of her. The large hall outside of the ship bay was empty save for her and that slight, limp rose on the floor.
Her heart pounded as she cast eyes from left to right, looking for anyone watching her before she looked once again at the rose; how did it get here? They'd all just returned from taking Katniss to District 12, to shoot a propo. At this very second a nervous, breaking-down Katniss was being accompanied away by Coin and Plutarch, both trying to instill some confidence and strength into her.
Effie was going to join them; shower the poor dear with compliments, babble with enthusiasm—but her beauty-starved eyes clung to the sight of that rose like a starved person's eyes upon a gloriously red apple.
She could barely move as she, shaking, fell to her knees. Living here in District 13 was torture to her soul. From the grey, unyielding walls to the tasteless rations, to the cold people and the strict routines, it ate away at her. It was so stern, so lifeless. But perhaps the one thing that wounded her soul the most, that hurt her achingly while these silent, heartless soldiers felt nothing, was the meaningless grayness of it all. Everything morphed into the same shades of grey around here, thousands of feet from the surface of the earth; it made black a splash of color.
Beauty was of least priority to District 13. While Effie felt herself stripped of loveliness, (in fact her entire world of it), the rest of the people around her remained stoic and unaffected. She was astonished and mortified by how much they didn't care; did they not know what colors looked like? The brightness of red, the sunniness of yellow, the play orange can do with both summer and fall? Didn't they know of how much fun colors were with clothing? Infinity scarves and throat-choking necklaces and bracelets that covered your entire arm and butterfly earrings that really flapped, and—and shoes with heel lengths of five entire inches?! Didn't they know about fashion and style?!
Her fingertips grazed the delicate petals; they'd aged since they'd been picked, with browning on their edges. Still, their open petals unfurled, open and bold and waiting to be embraced.
"Come here, little one," Effie said softly.
She held the rose in the cup of her other palm. Rising to a standing position, her eyes never left the little spot of beauty in her hand. Her mind skipped ahead; oh, she could find a pin from the little room where she had a pathetic pile of hair styling things for Katniss; surely one little pin wouldn't be missed. . . Should she put it in her hair? No, not without one of her prized wigs. Not on her bandana, either. . .
She put it to her breast; perhaps, "A brooch?" She liked the idea. And for once, a small smile grew on her face. It warmed her cheeks and made her eyes shine. Oh, yes, just a little spot of beauty would brighten her entire world, brighten the military-like routine this place followed to a T, oh, how wonderful, how exciting—
"What are you doing, princess?!" Haymitch's rough voice burst her bubble. His hand snatched at the rose.
Effie gasped and clutched the rose closer to her collarbone, protecting it. "Haymitch, please! Delicacy! You'll crush it!"
"Yeah, that was kinda my intention," Haymitch said. He offered out his hand and gave her a nod to it, saying silently, 'Hand it over.'
"You would deprive me of the only spot of beauty I've found in this dreadful place?!" Effie gasped.
Haymitch rolled his eyes and stepped forward; he put his hand over hers; only a few inches separated them. Effie wasn't shocked or pleased; she was angry, and she was frightened by his insistence.
"That 'beauty' you found, princess? That's treason. If you wear that, it'd be the same as wearing the Mockingjay pin in the Capitol." Haymitch's fingers pulled her fingers from her palm. "Do you have a death wish? Do you want to commit suicide?" He withdrew his hand, showed off the rose he'd smuggled into his hand from hers. "If you wear this, you're asking Coin to stick a gun at your head. And you'd be the one pulling the trigger."
Effie shuddered and let him get three steps away before she burst, almost in hot, angry tears, "What do you people have against beauty? What do you have against beauty, Haymitch?!"
Haymitch stopped and sighed. He was tired. She made him tired. Oh, ignorant, chirpy Effie.
He turned on his heel and said, holding up the crumpled rose, "This isn't beauty. This rose was modified. It's a lab's result. Here in Thirteen, like in Twelve, we have our own beauty; it's something in people. It's loyalty. It's freedom. It's patience. It's love. It's not something you can see, and it's hard to find." His hand enfolded around the rose. He sounded tired. "This isn't beauty, Effie. We hate it because it isn't. It's horrible. It's evil. It's white, but it should be blood-red."
Effie swallowed the hard lump in her throat as Haymitch sighed and disappeared around the corner. She saw some of his sense, despite how hard his sentences were to follow. So she must resign herself to this place, because she was in District 13 as one of them.
She sighed and straightened. Touching up her bandana, she said to herself, "Very well. If I am to remain in District Thirteen, I must somehow find this invisible beauty. Oh, but if I can't see it, how can I wear it?!" She shook her head. "Well," she looked at herself and sighed, "I hope it goes well with gray jumpsuits."
Thanks for reading! Review?
