Annie's POV
"It's on! It's on!" Screamed Canly from somewhere beneath my floor. I jumped up from my quiet corner in my room; dropping the book I was reading and rushing downstairs. I knew I looked a mess, I hadn't slept properly in days, and my clothes were wrinkled from lying in bed all day.
Today was the first televised event of the games…
The interviews.
I was unable to make a prediction about how Finnick would handle his interaction with Ceaser the game host. Maybe he had changed since he had left district four, maybe his mentor was fabulous, or maybe he was simply the same quiet boy with no interest in social popularity.
"You ready?" My mother asked as my family and I gathered on the small couch in front of our television screen. I nodded quietly, and fixed my eyes on the screen as the opening images light up in front of me.
A theme song was belted out as cameras were switched to the live feed of an overly decorated stage with one empty blue couch, and a secondary chair where the fabulous host sat. Ceaser flashed a dashing smile to the audience and viewers.
"Welcome ladies and Gentlemen!" He bellowed, flourishing his arms outwards as he stood
"To the annual Hunger Games!"
The crowd screamed and cheered, and the cameras panned over to reveal hundreds upon hundreds of colorfully clad guests in the audience. Every shade of hair you could imagine dotted the sea of artificial faces as they looked upon the stage with sick delight.
Ceaser walked around the stage happily as the crowd's cheers slowly died down.
"I have a feeling these are the best games to come!" He prompted, leaving his words in the wake of yet another thunderous applause.
"But let us waste no time. In the art of tradition, it is my pleasure to introduce to you the female tribute of district 1, Nell Killfire!"
A stunningly beautiful girl stepped forth onto the stage, a cascading river of jet-black hair straightened to perfection swept overtop of a skintight charcoal dress that pooled around her feet. Ceaser looked at the crowd and mimed his eyes popping out of his head. I scowled, wondering if anyone else was slightly rattled by the fact that her last name had the word "kill" in it.
"She sure is something isn't she folks!" The girl blushed slightly as the cameras focused in on her face. A shiver ran down my spine as she stared directly into the lens, displaying to all 12 districts her inky black eyes.
"Thank you Ceaser, you're far too kind," She purred as he helped her to the blue couch.
"So tell me young lady, how has the capitol treated you thus far?"
The girl waved lightly at the audience, and I was unable to imagine her delicate hands holding a weapon of any sort.
"Oh Ceaser," she gushed, "it's just wonderful. The people are lovely, the food is amazing, being able to fall asleep to the view of an entire city at night, I couldn't possibly ask for anything more in my life."
I felt queasy, twisting my hands around my already ruined dress in anxiety as the crowd lapped up her mushy words in a heartbeat.
"And I'm sure the Capitol is equally as thrilled to have your presence here! Am I right folks?" The audience yelled in agreement.
"Now, I'm sure you've been told just how truly stunning you are my dear," Ceaser paused as the rambunctious crowd hooted and cat called, "but is there anyone special out there that gets the privilege of telling you that on a regular basis?" He tugged his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Nell looked down with burning cheeks, a slight twitch tugging her lips downward.
"No, I'm afraid not Ceaser."
I sensed that her answer held only a partial truth to it, and that she was refusing to bring some part of her history to the televised even.
Ceaser tutted, grabbing her hand in sympathy.
"I'm sure that won't last long my darling, a pretty little thing like you."
Nell's eyes looked at him darkly, but the look was gone in a blink as she smiled brightly and mumbled a bashful "thank you."
Ceaser's questions came about in a steady stream as he introduced and interviewed all of the tributes from the first three districts. He dove into their personal lives, their answers (whether true or made up) complimented his questions with astounding clarity and I knew that they had their mentors to thank for that.
"It seems like our reaping's have turned up our best tributes to date!" Ceaser said in an exasperated voice.
"On to district four!"
This is the moment we had been waiting for, my hands were clammy, and my mouth was dry as he called Amalia onto the stage. She walked into the stage lights, a dazzling blue dress billowing out behind her and setting off her heavily made up blue eyes perfectly.
Ceaser, the ever-present gentleman, offered her his hand and guided her to the tributes seat, settling down across from her.
"That's a lovely dress you've happened upon my lovely." He complimented. Amalia nodded stiffly.
"My stylists are truly miracle workers, as you can see," gesturing towards her hourglass figure. The crowd protested, but not as loudly as they had for other such statements from the previous tributes. Ceaser was silent for a second, being able to sense the falseness behind Amalia's posture and response.
I tensed. Even though I had never known Amalia, she was from my home, and she was representing my district, which had fostered an automatic want to see her do well.
"I'm sure none of us here today would believe your styling team had to work too hard." He said smoothly. I let out the breath I was holding.
The rest of Amalia's interview moved along in stilted questions and responses, and I could tell that her nerves had gotten the best of her.
"Last question my dear," Ceaser said in an almost relieved voice
"Have we in the capitol taken you away from anyone special back home?" Amalia shook her head automatically but the raging blush that crept across her face left many things to the imagination of the audience.
"Or should I say, taken you away from someone… here?" Ceaser winked knowingly into the audience, right to where Henry sat, Amalia's mentor. Henry looked at him in nervous shock for only a split second before smoothing over his expression and smiling slyly at the cameras.
I gaped at the screen. Amalia was involved with her mentor? My mother gasped quietly beside me mumbling about what Amalia's own mother would be thinking right now. My dad chuckled at her side, rubbing her shoulder as the camera's panned back to the female tribute and her devastated face.
The buzzer sounded, signaling that her time on the stage was over and she clambered from her seat ungracefully, waved, and nearly sprinted to the side wings.
Here we go.
I reached over and snatched up Canly's hand, surprised to find that her palms were nearly as damp as mine. I looked over at her television screen illuminated profile, studying her features and expression. Her small nose was twitching in anticipation, bringing focus to her enormous emerald orbs as they swiveled back and forth with the moving pictures on the screen.
I had always been envious of Canly's obvious beauty, and compared to my thin gangly body, her silhouette was that of a woman at the tender age of 14.
"There he is," she breathed.
I turned my focus back to the screen, squeezing my sister's hand as I watched my best friend walk confidently onto the stage.
Finnicks POV
Mags whistled at me as I walked towards her, my styling team disappearing into a side hallway I had never ventured down.
"Well, you've done one thing right so far." She winked at me, and I ducked my head in embarrassment, unused to this kind of attention. Mags looked at me expectedly and I offered her my arm as she hobbled down the corridor beside me, sidling up to the other tributes and mentors backstage.
"Now boy, listen to me," Mags commanded, turning my face with her small hand to look at her.
"The Capitol will feed of your weakness if you show it, and not in a good way. This is the first chance that sponsors get to see you, and if it goes poorly I can't say much for your future."
I swallowed hard, and nodded nervously.
"You have an angle," she continued, eyeing me up and down "and I highly suggest you play it up. The styling team didn't make you up to your true potential for nothing. The capitol loves beautiful people, but they love beautiful confident people more."
I could only follow what she said and agree silently, trying desperately to formulate some sort of plan as she spoke.
Ceaser was speeding through the tributes, and before I knew it Amalia had been whisked away to the stage, leaving me at the front of the line and trembling with nerves.
"Don't you dare let them see you nervous boy, these aren't people, they don't have emotions like you and I do, they don't understand what the Hunger Games are like on the other end. Go up there not as Finnick, but as the district 4 tribute and these people are your toys, these people are yours for the taking."
I looked at her with wide eyes, and she reached her hand up to cup my cheek.
"Good luck district 4," she said with a note of finality.
"Welcome Finnick Odair!"
I took a deep breath, and slathered on the most dazzling smiling I could muster, stepping under the harsh heat of the stage lights and into the echoing applause of the capitol citizens.
"Ceaser!" I smiled, opening my arms in greeting and shaking his hand heartily.
Maybe this will be easier then I thought.
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