Caesar marched down the line of the capitol tributes. His magenta hair gleaming in the spotlight, he exchanged pleasantries with all, trying to ease their nerves. The audience laughed with them, until he reached the last child. Silence fell throughout the hall as he met her green eyes. It was surprising how much she looked like her grandfather. President has so surgically altered at the end of his life, or at least, they had assumed he had been.
Cordelia Snow was dresses head to toe in blood-red, from her hair to her platform boots. She wore a white rose pinned to her lapel. She stood proud, a head shorter than the rest of them. But her eyes had more character than the rest of them put together. Burning like an emerald fire, she glared to the back of the room, where Katniss Everdeen was being held in place by Peeta's hand holding hers. She was sitting on the very edge of her seat, body angled towards the door. She answered Caesar's questions without looking away from the girl who had decided her fate. Caesar followed her gaze and shifted to block it, forcing Cordelia to look at him.
"Cordelia Snow, is there anyone that you are going to try and win for?" His voice echoed from speakers, filling the silence. Cordelia smirked, her eyes narrowing, deepening the resemblance to her grandfather.
"My grandfather," she commanded the room with her high pitch accent. "The president who was killed by his country. The one who tried to kill Katniss Everdeen who is the reason that I have to participate in the Hunger Games."
Somehow, the room fell quieter, Caesar spluttered, his smile faltered.
"Are you sure that you mean that? The rebels are running the games." His lowered voice was weak. Cordelia's laugh tinkled like a wind-chime.
"You really think that they are going to allow a victor? You think them much kinder than the savages are, Mr Flickerman."
The rest of the tributes glared at her, trying to silence her with their stares.
"Stand down, Snow." Muttered the larger boy to her left, he was dressed in bright green ruffles, his face made up in renaissance style.
"I will not, Templesmith. We all know that you won't get very far." She gestured at his protruding stomach; he had inherited his uncle's rounded shape. He crossed his arms over his abdomen and glared at Cordelia.
"Yes, Cordelia. I may die, but I will take you with me. They will honour me for just that deed, you horrible, spiteful, little thing." The audience cheered and Alven Templesmith smirked, knowing that he had the whole of Panem behind him.
Cordelia shoved her nose into the air and shoved her chest forward. She pursed her lips and threw a pointed look at Alven. Caesar then found his voice.
"Thank you, tributes. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big, big, big day!" He winked offstage at Effie in the wings, as the spotlight faded and the tributes dawdled offstage to their escorts.
There was thirty-two of them and the 76th Annual Hunger Games was about to begin.
The countdown began, Alven glanced around him. There was a wooded area behind him, a long stretch of long grass opposite, on the other side of a large lake. It was the same arena used for the 74th Hunger Games. Cordelia was on the far side of the tribute circle, her eyes fixed on a long, curved knife. The siren sounded and as one, the tributes turned to Cordelia Snow and ambushed her. She wouldn't go down without a fight, though. Screaming and slashing with her nails at anyone who came near her.
Steaming sores sprouted from the scratches on her opponents, and they soon began dropping, cannons exploding overhead. Cordelia giggled in delight, her back turned to the Cornucopia and to Alven. He grabbed the nearest weapon as she scratched the last of the tributes and they collapsed to the ground.
Alven Templesmith raised his bow and nocked an arrow, just like he'd been taught in training.
"How?" He called to her, making her turn to glare at him. She smirked.
"A little trick my grandfather taught me." She waved her painted nails. "Venom in the nail polish. Creates a nice shimmer and really helps in a fight…" She stalked towards him, her hands curled into claws at her sides.
"Even if you manage to kill me, they won't let you live." He called, as he took careful steps backwards.
"I know. I just want to be the last one, for my family's sake. I want them to be proud to have such a daughter." She looked warily at the bow in his hand. "You really think you can hit me with that thing."
"No." He said as the arrow flew over her left shoulder as she dodged. She watched the arrow land in the body of another tribute. A spear flew punctured her stomach. "But with that I might."
Cordelia fell to the ground with a scream, pulling at the wound in her stomach.
The spear dropped as she screamed.
Silence.
Cannon.