Back from the dead for the 100th time. I've been so pleasantly surprised with all the follows/favorites/reviews I have received over the past few months, despite not having updated. Thank you all!
A/N: We're back to Katniss' POV.
It feels so wonderful to be surrounded by people that most likely once placed bets on my death. I can imagine almost every single one of these guests sitting on a plush sofa while guzzling sickeningly sweet drinks and shrilly commenting on how much money they'll make once my throat gets slit. Much to the dismay of their wallets, I survived time and time again, and now, here I am, fraternizing with all of these ignorant gluttons. And the best part is, I have to be one of them now. I have to pretend like their perfume doesn't make me gag and their voices don't give me an agonizing headache. At least I have Finnick. That's what I would have said in any other situation. Except this time, nothing can keep my skin from crawling. Even him. That's when you know it's bad, isn't it? When the one thing that's kept you from drowning might as well be another set of hands trying to push you under. As we step into a house filled with excruciatingly loud music, swarms of people wearing every color possible, and the distinct sound of mindless chatter, I know for fact that I'll be alone in this one.
"EFFIE TRINKET, AS I LIVE AND BREATHE!"
We haven't made but two steps into the room when one of the most ridiculous-looking creatures I've ever seen (even by Capitol standards) comes tottering over. What makes her so freakish is not her outfit or her hair, which is normally what Capitol-ites take such pride in, but the dark green tattoos covering her from head to toe. They are curling vines that spiral around her arms and circle her neck to dip down between her chest, branching off from one another to take their own separate path across her ivory skin. She probably thinks she looks whimsical, like she's the reincarnation of Mother Nature. To me, she looks like the strangest person I will ever meet in my life. But as it turns out, this is our host, Ashby, whose best friend is married to a Gamemaker. So for the time being, I think she's beautiful. If I leave my repulsion unmasked, I will never get a step closer to Snow.
Her and Effie pretend to kiss each other on both cheeks (wouldn't want to get lipstick on their powdered faces, after all) before exchanging empty pleasantries. It briefly seems as though Effie has forgotten about the real reason we're here, and has regressed back to her former self, completely unaware of the grueling life she is living. One without Haymitch. My breath hitches as I remember the fact that Finnick and I are not the only ones here who has suffered loss. I haven't asked her how she was doing since she first told us about the two of them, and a part of me feels the urge to do that now. This is, of course, anything but the right time, so I pray that I'll remember later. She has, after all, done so much for us in just a couple of days.
Before I can even register what's happening, Effie has pushed Finnick and I in front of her, exclaiming to Ashby that we are such marvelous people. "This is Alto and Septima! The ones I told you about?!" Ashby seems no less extroverted with those she doesn't know, and pulls us both into a rather uncomfortable hug. Her sharp-edged nails dig into my back, and I try not to grimace. She pulls away to examine both of us, and I almost wonder if she can recognize us. But then I remember that those of the Capitol remember nothing when in the midst of a party. "Well, aren't you just the loveliest couple in all of Panem!"
Finnick laughs this off at a pitch as high as ever. "Oh please, I heard that title belonged to the birthday girl and her husband!" It's nerve-wracking how good he is at this, while I can barely hold on to my facade of normality. Then again, he has been doing this for years, pretending to be someone he's not. Ashby's eyes light up at his remark, and I feel like I should be saying something right around now. "Ugh..." They all turn to look at me as I attempt to form a coherent sentence. "Great party," is what I come up with. Not even a full sentence! A fragment! "Oh, well aren't you sweet," Ashby replies rather dismissively before turning back to Finnick. "Have you met Briar and Titus, then?" Already disgruntled, I turn away before Finnick can reply and make my way over to a table laden with cocktails. Septima needs a drink.
I grab the glass closest to me and toss it back, not even knowing what it is. I reach for another without even thinking, and wonder if some of Haymitch did, in fact, rub off on me at some point. But I'm not doing this for the same reasons as him. He drowned himself in liquor for the numbness, the moment when his mind would be wiped clean of all of his horrid memories. Something which I now find perfectly understandable. For now, however, I'm just trying to loosen up and make everyone here think I am just like them. In this moment, I am just another Capitol girl who curls her eyelashes and reclines on overstuffed furniture for hours. I also just so happen to be engaged to a very nice man, one who I have just left stranded with an impossibly annoying woman. So once I finish my second drink and slam the glass back down on the table, I turn to make my way back.
"Guess you're not one for pacing yourself, huh?"
I jerk my head around my shoulder to see a strikingly normal person watching me while leaned against the table. There are no tattoos blotting his dark skin, no makeup or excessive jewelry to account for. There is nothing Capitol about the way he dresses either, coming off to me as mind-blowingly simple. I feel a bit of color rise to my cheeks at the realization that I must look utterly ridiculous to him, with my garish clothing and half of my facial features obscured by either dark makeup or ornaments. As if to compensate for my Capitol looks, I drop the Capitol voice that I loathe entirely a few octaves lower. I'll still sound nothing like myself. A foolish part of me feels the need to impress him, and for some reason, I go with it."Parties aren't for me," I tell him. If anyone in the Capitol got caught admitting such a ludicrous thing, they would surely become a social outcast for all eternity. But I can already tell that this man does not care. He is not like the others. He smiles and reaches behind him for a drink. "I never thought I could relate to someone from the Capitol, but here we are." I laugh, trying to keep it as airy as possible, but my nerves shaken it.
"Amias," he tells me, extending his hand. I reach for him a bit too quickly, relieved that he's the one speaking again. "Septima."
"Who are you here with?" he asks, reminding me that I am still living the life that Effie created for me. Katniss Everdeen still has a strong presence in my mind, and I want to push her far, far away where no one can see her, not even me. Katniss is no good anymore. Katniss will get me killed. "My uh...fiance," I answer, glancing down at my left hand. There it is, the ring that looks far more genuine than it actually is. It's really no more than a hunk of plastic, at least in value. "Alto. He's right over there. Who are you here with?" Amias shrugs and sweeps his arm out in the direction of all the guests. "I'm here with everyone. I was invited by Ashby, though. She knew I was interested in writing, so she told me to come out to gain some 'perspective.' On the social scene of the Capitol, I suppose."
I try not to smile, but I'm sure he can see the corner of my mouth struggling not to curl upward. "You want to write about parties in the Capitol?" I ask a bit too disbelievingly. He laughs wholeheartedly, a warm, inviting sound that helps me unwind. Maybe it's just the alcohol. "Of course not!" he chuckles after draining the rest of his drink. "I can't think of anything I'd like to write about less. There are a million other things that demand attention. For instance..." He steps a bit closer to me and points across the room. "See that guy over there? The one in the orange suit? That's Titus, one of the Gamemakers." There he is, the one person we came for tonight. He's talking to about six people at the same time while sipping a fluorescent blue drink, looking like the least intimidating person in the world. Yet I feel afraid to glance at him for too long. "Briar's husband, right?" I ask in the most casual voice I can manage. A thought springs into my head. "Do you know him well?"
"Well? No," he replies, leaning on the table again. "But I've heard a few things about him, and I would very much like to know if those things are true. Obviously, I'd need to get into his inner circle to ask anything like the questions I have." I fold my arms and smirk, beginning to catch on. "So you're trying to expose him?" He shrugs and mirrors my expression right back at me. I like him. "You're making me sound very sinister. I'm merely a curious writer." I dare to look back at Titus, who is now by himself at the bar.
"Have you met Titus before, Amias?"
"Once. I wonder if he even remembers."
"Introduce me."
As it turns out, he does indeed remember Amias. He gets up from his seat to shake his hand, exclaiming how wonderful it is to see him again. "Still working on the writing?" he asks, to which Amias and I both smile. Yes, yes he is. "This is Septima," Amias says, stepping aside and gesturing. "Septima! Hello! Please, have a drink with me!" We both take a seat at the bar, and I end up sitting between Amias and Titus.
"You all want a drink? I'll get you a real drink!" I've probably already had more than I should, but I smile. "Why not?" While Titus starts giving instructions to the bartender that sound far too complex, I turn around briefly to see where Finnick is. He hasn't really moved from where we were, and is still engaged in an "avid" conversation with Ashby. But I can see his eyes, and how they keep darting over to the bar, and I swear that I can see his brow furrowing. What could he be upset about? Was this not the plan?
Once the drinks have been fully ordered, Titus turns his attention back to us. "I really appreciate you two coming out for Briar's birthday. She's getting to the point where she's starting to feel old, which of course she isn't, so I was hoping this party would help cheer her up. I think it has." He talks to Amias some more about his writing, while I sit and listen, perfectly content to pretend to drink this weird mixture and figure out my way in.
"Actually, I've kind of been planning on writing something about the Gamemakers." This instantly gets Titus' attention. "No kidding!" he remarks, clearly intrigued. "What about us?" Amias shrugs in that nonchalant fashion of his, and once again try and hide my smile. "Oh, just how you do what you do, your whole process, all that. Of course, it would take a lot of research, and interviews..." He allows himself to trail off, leaving Titus all excited. "Come to our meeting this week!" he offers, almost sounding like he's begging. "We still need to iron out some details for next year's Games, so you would be able to listen in on everything!" It's clear he just likes the idea of the interviews, having his name printed in a book that would be peddled to the masses. "Are you sure?" Amias asks, feigning surprise. "I mean, it's a lot to ask..." Titus waves him off, insisting that it's no problem. "Please, we would love to have you! A fine young writer like yourself?"
Seeing my chance, I quickly jump in. "Would it be alright if I came, too?" I'm proud of the way I sound: shy, cautious, someone difficult to refuse. "I told Amias I would help him with the story, if in fact he chose to write it." Much to my relief, Amias doesn't react at all to this, instead giving me a friendly smile and nodding, as if this has been discussed before.
"Why, of course! The more, the merrier!" Oh, if only that were true.
Amias and Titus finalize all the details: the date, the place, all of these things that mean next to nothing to me, for all I can think about is how I did it, how I've been here less than an hour and am already making my way inside. Maybe this couldwork after all. I had been skeptical at first, especially the whole "pretend you don't despise the Capitol and everyone in it" thing. But I'm already making progress.
"I look forward to seeing you both!" Titus says, lifting his glass in farewell as Amias and I get up from our seats and walk back to the table where we first met, which is just about empty by now. I guess there's no reason to stop drinking the Capitol. You can do whatever you want here. Drink all day, sleep all day, kill children...it's all just a blast here.
"Should we go outside?" Amias suggests. "This music is not something I want to be listening to right now." I laugh and begin to follow him out back, but not before I locate Finnick and quickly give him a thumbs-up. He smiles, but in a strangely grim way. I almost consider staying, maybe it would be better if we went back to sticking together? But then I see Ashby lean in to whisper something in his ear, her ivy-covered fingers trailing around his neck, and I decide right then and there that he is absolutely fine.
There are still people in the courtyard, just not as many, and are far quieter than the rambling animals we were just surrounded by. The music playing is much softer, or maybe it just sounds that way after stepping away from the deafening booms from back inside. Amias and I sit out on some large rocks lining a pond, which is apparently a common feature to have in the backyard of any Capitol home.
"When did you meet your fiance?" is the first question he has for me, which is, surprisingly enough, one that I had not prepared for. I tell him it was two years ago, hoping that Finnick is giving the others a similar answer. We go back and forth after that, asking questions like we're playing some game.
Do you have any family here?
What kind of work do you do?
Did you know you're helping me with my plan to kill President Snow?
There's something about Amias that makes him an all-around likable person, but that, in turn, makes me wary of him. Very rarely do I come to think of people this way so soon. Even Finnick took some getting used to, and that's an understatement. But here I am, talking to this practical stranger like I've known him for years. Because that's how it feels to me.
"Thank you, by the way, for letting me jump in on this whole meeting," I tell him, attempting to distract myself from my own thoughts. "I felt kind of rude just intruding like that, but I'm..." I'm what?! Trying to murder the president?! I hadn't thought about needing a reason for coming. "...very curious about those things you mentioned. What you heard about Titus?" Amias smiles and reclines on his rock, tilting his head to look up at the star-dotted sky. "Ah yes, the rumors."
"What kind of rumors?"
"Infidelity, corruption, all that fun stuff."
"He's cheating on his wife?"
"That's what I was told, although my sources are rather shady characters. And as a writer, that's something you're supposed to look out for." He drops his head back down and lazily points a finger at me. "But you...you would make an excellent source." It's definitely not a compliment I've received before, but it doesn't keep me from feeling flattered. "Yeah? How so?"
He grins. "Well, Septima, I don't know you that well yet, but I can already tell you're the most honest person in this city." He's wrong, of course. So very wrong. But I'm not about to correct him. Instead, I allow my cheeks to grow warm as I smile nervously and look away. "Thanks." I'm about to look back at him to divert the attention back to him, but then I see Finnick standing at the door we had come out through.
"Care for a dance, Septima?" His voice comes out warm and friendly, but one look at this expression tells me that he is anything but, even with all of the makeup obscuring most of his natural face.
"Of course, sweetheart." I raise myself up from the rock, Amias following suit. "It was very nice to meet you," I say to him, hoping he can tell that I sincerely mean it. He slightly bows his head in agreement. "You as well." I turn to go, but am stopped by two hands that take my shoulders. Amias leans in to press a light kiss to my cheek, and I am very much aware of the fact that Finnick is still watching us. Lips lightly brushing my ear, he whispers, "Goodbye, Girl on Fire."
He is instantly gone after that, leaving me wide-eyed and shell-shocked with the realization that our plan may already be starting to crumble.