Effie laughed as she pressed a champagne glass to her lips, sipping the bubbling liquid. Snow's mansion was lit beautifully, for Panem's newest victor, Finnick Odair. He was the perfect example of a tribute, but really he was only a child. The more she looked at him, the more of a mother she felt. He was but a victim of Snow's wicked game. She decided that she couldn't drink any more, and set her drink down. When she turned to her side, Portia looked shocked. "Effie, dear, you look unwell."
She thought the dizziness was from her anxieties over seeing Finnick as a child she wanted to protect, and as a result being reminded of Cassia. It certainly wasn't. "I'm sorry." She said, rushing to the bathroom and throwing herself against the wall. She put her head down and vomited, realising her lips were burning. When she touched them, they bled somewhat. Typical Snow. As soon as she felt somewhat safe, he had to remind her of the constant danger of having Snow over her shoulder. The poison hadn't been strong, or it wouldn't have been burns in her mouth causing the bleeding. Luckily she hadn't had much to drink, so she didn't need to seek medical attention. If he'd been looking to kill her, he would have done it. This wasn't an attempt at murder, it was a threat.
Whilst Effie was hunched over the porcelain, Haymitch walked a lonely road back in District 12. He'd spent the evening at the Hob, trying to make his daughter seem less Capitol, and more a part of District 12. It wasn't fair for her to be excluded from everything like this. Whilst Sae had been holding her, he'd gone outside for a little fresh air, alone. In the thin layer of snow, he stood, watching as it began to fall heavier. The road was dark and empty, or so he thought.
A hand shoved the man against the wall of a building opposite, kicking his shins expertly. He groaned as his head hit the ground, and his vision turned black at the edges. Looking up, he saw a peacekeeper, and not one of the easily influenced District 12 peacekeepers - a professional. The man kicked his arm and stamped on his ankle. Haymitch could barely make a sound for pain and loss of consciousness. He was dragged up seconds later and thrown back into the Hob, and hit the floor, coated in snow and blood. There was something unnervingly symbolic about the experience.
"Papa!?" Cassia screeched, looking at him. Haymitch knew this was a warning. The people of District 12 weren't supposed to like Cassia, or himself for that matter. Things were supposed to be hard for him, according to Snow. And this was the most effective way to explain that to the victor and his daughter.
Snow's threats were few and far between in those years, but scarring and extreme. Because of these, Effie began to act like the Capitol machine she should have been, painting on a thicker facade. She couldn't treat any tributes like children who were absent from her lonely life. Haymitch became a recluse, fully. He allowed people to believe that he'd paid for a night in the Capitol, and Cassia was a product of that. He couldn't fight back when abuse was shouted at them in the street.
Effie and Haymitch became powerless, thanks to Snow. The next time they saw each other, she showed him the burn on the inside of her lip that would probably never go away, and he showed her the scars on his side from being kicked to the ground. These marks ran deeper than skin. This unconventional family would suffer their whole lives through for defying the order of life in Panem. Capitol and Districts did not mix, not like this, and surely not in love.
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