Hi, I'm back- sort of. These will be a series of snippets of Effie's time in prison. There's hinted Hayffie, but I wouldn't call this a hayffie story because it very much focuses more on Effie and some others that end up in prison. This is what I ORIGINALLY started out writing as my part 3 to my story "Passion Lends Them Power'. That also means- yes it's part of my 'HungerWho-verse'(original, I know). Future chapters will feature some Victors, some of my OCs, and some back stories to incorporate DW companions.
Not all snippets will be this long, there is one other that is kinda long at the moment but that is a few down the line (you'll know which one that is, it's a doosy of an emotional ride concerning an OC- I almost cried at doing what I did to them), and some that are very short to help set things up for other things to come. Chapter currently range from over 2000 words to just hitting 500. So hit and miss with chapter lengths.
This will be updated very SPORADICALLY. There may be a week where I'll update more than once, but then there might be a month (or more) where I won't. I'm trying to keep this in a chronological order, but my muse is very fickle and likes jumping around all over the place. Thus many updates may happen at once, meaning there were parts I wrote a while ago and have now reached chronologically, or a long wait because I'm writing WAY future chapters; or I'm needing to try and get dates/ timing down to be mostly book compliant- baring my significant character changes, rather than plot changes.
Oh, yeah M 'cos you know torture and stuff that kids should not read, and CYA. So if that upsets you, don't read.
I don't own any characters from either Susan Collin's 'Hunger Games' or BBC's 'Doctor Who'.
So, on with the snippets!
I refrained from saying anything as the Peacekeepers dragged me along to my awaiting cell. I kept my chin up, I'm not broken and it will only be their mistake to think otherwise. I may look an utter mess after they forcefully removed me from the Penthouse in the dead of night but I won't be belittled by it.
As I went to step inside, one them gave me a shove and I fell forward onto my hands and knees.
"Rude!" I cried back to the hallway from my place on the ground.
"Effie?" a voice from another cell calls.
I turned towards it. The voice was familiar, but horse like from over or under use.
"Effie, is that you?" another familiar voice called.
I moved to the force field that secured me inside the cell and looked out. Immediately across from me I could see a bloodied and beaten body. When they moved closer to their fielded wall, I couldn't help but gasp.
"Cinna? Oh thank the gods you're still alive!"
"For now," he crocked out.
A violent coughing fit left him struggling for breath and swaying dangerously, even while seated, there looked to me like a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. My heart clenched at the sight and the knowledge of what faced us in the days ahead.
"I assumed the worst when you weren't seen after the Games began."
"I think this is the worst," the second voice commented.
At the cell adjacent to Cinna I saw a hand pushing against the field. I recognised that hand; Portia! Double the thanks.
"Dum spiro, spero," I recited to her softly.
Leaning forward I could make out her face similarly close to her own field. I saw confusion on her face. She didn't know the phrase.
"As long as I breathe, I hope," I translated with a sad smile.
"I didn't know you spoke Latin," Cinna said with a groan.
"I don't," I can't help but laugh humourlessly. "I know all of three Latin phrases; that one, Panem University's motto 'scientia est potestas', and 'in vino veritas'."
"Knowledge is power," Portia said with a nod, obviously recognising the motto.
"In wine there is truth," Cinna translated, with a grin.
"Yes." I press my hand more forcefully against the field and can feel it resisting with a numb tingling spreading through my hand. "I adore literature more than I love even couture, but I've never been good at grasping languages. My brother is the linguist." The tingling has become painful from the force I'm pressing against it, so I pull my hand back. "Was. The phrase about hope was my father's favourite," I admit with a sigh.
"And the phrase about wine?" Portia asked. I couldn't see her face, but I could hear the amused smirk on her face. "I wonder where you learnt that one."
"I think we all have a mutual friend who was very into wine- well alcohol," Cinna commented, a smirk on his face. "One who is also quite happy to be vocal in his thoughts while inebriated."
I couldn't help my heart racing at their implication. Thankfully I'd learnt to maintain a very good poker face years ago. Without my normal makeup any hint of blush would be visible for all of Panem to see.
"I also noticed he tended to get quite handsy while drunk," Portia added.
"Most men get handsy when drunk," I interrupt. I leaned forward and direct my next comment to Portia, "And quite a few women too."
Portia chuckled raising her hands in a surrender pose. "What can I say, you have a hot body."
"That I do," I hummed my agreement. And why wouldn't I, when the Capitol was footing the bill to keep me this way. "But things have never been romantic between us. Sex is just sex." I try to dismiss their teasing implications. "We barely stand each other most of the time."
"People who barely stand each other but have sex, amazing sex?" Portia pressed. "Often."
"Yes." I let out a loud sigh.
I have been avoiding thinking too hard about Haymitch. My heart clenched at the thought of him. I hope they've all made it safely to Thirteen. I need them to have made it safe. Haymitch promised me he would keep the children safe. He promised, and he always avoids making promises he couldn't keep.
It was getting harder and harder for us to pass things off as casual, non-romantic, sex between us to others. Those who knew us well saw through it completely, but I knew a lot of people either didn't know about us at all or believed I used it to keep him in line.
"You never had sex with me and you can't deny the spark between us."
"Yes, but for most of the time I've known you, Portia, you've been in a committed closed relationship. I am many things, but I never knowingly or willingly cheat."
I saw Portia incline her head in concession.
"What about the other… wine enthusiast?" It took my mind a moment to figure out who she meant. Chaff. "You've been as close to him as our mutual friend, but you've never slept with him."
A genuine laugh escaped me at that. "I very nearly did sleep with him once," I confessed. "Very nearly."
Portia didn't need to know the President had sent me to him as congratulations for getting their third ever Victor for Eleven. Thankfully, Victors have always had the best timing, and that night Seeder was no exception. I hate to think what would've happened to our burgeoning friendship if she hadn't arrived when she did.
"You both know that for a number the title 'escort' is not honorary in the Games. And this is one case where I am -"
Before I can explain further, our conversation is interrupted by guards bringing two more people in; both who were protesting loudly at being manhandled; both Capitol men. As they pass my cell I recognise them; Gordie Weeks and Adonis Kane.
I do my best to mask my confusion. Neither of them had anything to do with the Rebellion. They were as loyalist as you could get for two men in their mid 20s who lived their lives as part of the ignorant mass of the Middle. Neither of them were threats with their influence either; simply because they had none. Why would the Capitol lock up Panem Broadcasting Corporation's ambitious evening and late night program selectors?
Portia and I made eye contact and I could see she didn't trust them being placed near us; she thought they were spies. But I was familiar with both men, having attended many parties with both, and easily heard the genuine panic and fear in their voices. I could honestly say neither had a particularly good poker face, and were often too eager to please making them ripe for manipulation. Why, I'd even manipulated them into doing a few favours for me without them realising it. But then again, for all I knew that could have been an act. They could have been cultivating their image for this very scenario.
Just like me.
Portia's suspicion and my moment of uncertainty centred me. From here on out I could trust no one. Always assume someone is watching and listening. Hide a truth within a lie, and a lie within a truth. Build up layer after layer; so that when one crumbles -because they will find a way to make me crumble- there will be another already in place. Always keeping your true self hidden; keeping you safe.
After all, why were they placed in the same level as Cinna, Portia and I? I saw the rest of Peeta's prep team being escorted in. Hippogrif demanding to know what they'd done to Venia - he had seen men in black take her away in a hovercraft. Yet none of either team was here.
"Effie?" Cinna called, breaking me from my musing. He was sounding frightfully weak suddenly.
"Yes?"
"Did she… Did they… Safe?" I could see he was struggling to get the words out. He swayed dangerously while he fought to formulate a sentence. Silently I willed him to find the strength to give me enough to figure out what he was asking. "Girl…?"
Ah.
I couldn't stop the smirk from covering my face. I knew it was one Haymitch would be proud of.
"Yes," I cut him off practically with a purr. "She has flown."
That was the last message I got before I had to get rid of my communicator; the Mockingjay was retrieved.
A victorious smile covered his face and I saw his eye lose focus, my own smile slipping off. All I could do was watch as he fell backwards loosing consciousness. The crack of his head meeting the solid ground made my stomach drop.
"Cinna?" Portia called out, frightfully. "Cinna!"
"He's out cold, Portia," I tell her. "Cinna's unconscious."
I don't try and offer her any false comforts, because I can see his chest barely moving. He's still breathing, but it's far too shallow.
It's hard to keep track of the time, the only noise is our breathes and the occasional hiccup hidden sob from the two men not far away, but it's after a visit from the guards delivering food that Cinna manages to regain consciousness. I can see he's clearly too weak to be able to sit up again, but he rolls himself to face the field that separates us. He doesn't even attempt to touch his food.
"Cinna?" I call out to him softly.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see Portia pressing against her barrier to try and see me, to help her gauge Cinna's state.
He smiles weakly.
"Hey," he wheezed out tiredly.
"It's good to see you awake." I smile reassuringly at him.
All Cinna does is blink slowly and I can see the slight up turn at the corner of his mouth.
I wait to see if he'll respond, but silence remains. This time it feels so much heavier than what we'd been sitting in before. Cinna, always perceptive Cinna, must have picked up on it.
"Too quiet," he said, struggling to get the words out. "Eff… talk."
I choke out a soft laugh. "Is that your way of asking me to mindlessly prattle on?"
Cinna doesn't answer, but I see his second genuine smile while we're in this place.
"Very well," I sigh in mock annoyance. "No complaining later that I don't know when to stop talking."
"I make no promises," Portia calls, I see a ghost of a smile across her face.
She clearly can hear how weak Cinna is. We all knew the risks we took in challenging the Capitol. But expecting and experiencing are two very different things. Portia has never experienced this before and she's hiding it well, but I know she's scared.
I draw her into a mindless conversation and even get our two other companions to join in too. They both sound scared and confused at the start, but I am nothing if not a skilled conversations. I even get Cinna to contribute with mono-syllable responses once or twice.
Where I can loose track of time in silence, its very easy for me to keep track while there's talking. I suppose I've made a very reluctant career out it. It was nearly two hours later that Cinna took another turn for the worse.
His breathing had become more ragged slowly and I saw him start slipping in and out of consciousness for another hour before he spoke up again.
"Effie?"
"Yes?" I couldn't keep my concern from my voice.
"Sing… Do'ya… Hear…"
I chuckle. "Just for you Cinna, I'll hum what I know."
"Until…"
"Yes," I agree without thinking too hard about what he was really asking.
I slowly hum a song that I learnt so long ago. A song of change; of anger; of hope; a song of revolution. I know it's not safe to sing the words, so I don't, but the tune is as familiar to me as the words. A tune learnt at my father's side, Pantelemon learning beside me.
A long forgotten memory surfaced as I was humming. My father was leading our family back from the lake during the summer holidays; Pan on his back after he'd hurt his foot jumping off some rocks, Cynthia and I singing along as loudly as we could in the middle, her hand in mine-back when she trusted me implicitly- and our mother following last, trying to get all of us to lower our voices. We didn't have a care in the world. All those I loved most were there, and I felt like nothing could take away my excitement at learning our family was to grow. Before Pan or I spoke out of turn. Before we understood disagreeing with the Government was treason. Before we learnt the price of treason.
Cinna's breath slowed while I continued to hum and I could see his face relaxing. He was finally finding peace away from the pain he's been suffering under.
"There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes," I whisper softly to myself once Cinna had stopped breathing. "Tomorrow comes."
Well that's my first snippet. Please leave a review to let me know what you think. Worth continuing? Did I get OOC? Your thoughts are always welcomed.