a/n [I have a lot of Primrose feels, okay? For Rowan.]
She remembers when she had just two pairs of ribbons. One was blue and worn and frayed at the edges. The other was pale pink and sweet and saved for the specialist of occasions.
Before, she only wore the pink ones thrice.
First, when her family was invited to the Justice Building, and her sister was given a medal in honor of their father's bravery. A camera took a photo, and she thinks she would've been beautiful with her shiny new ribbons, but she'd been crying too hard to see.
The second time was for her first reaping. An outfit was laid out for her in the morning with the two pink ribbons set on top. The Capitol must've loved how her hair was parted in two, like always, the bows catching the sunlight, but she couldn't think of anything but her sister and how awful the world was turning out to be.
Her sister came home a month later, so she wore her bows for the third time for her. (And for the cameras, too, because her mother told her they needed to look their best and be their best.)
After, she has all the money she could ask for, and can buy all the ribbon she needs. Suddenly, every day turns into the best day, and her old worn ribbons are left behind on a dresser in her new room. They were her favorite, always, and in the dark night, when the cameras are gone and no one is looking at or caring for the newest victor's little sister, she'll braid her hair in two, parted down the middle, and tie the ends in blue bows.
It's what her father would've loved best after all.