Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, etc!
And thanks to my beta, RueofDistrict11 :)
Cinna stood outside of one of the fancier apartment buildings in one of the best sections of the Capitol. This was the area where many of the head government officials and Gamemakers lived. Cinna had kept his temper, projecting a cool and collected image to anyone who saw him, but on the inside, he was seething. He had to keep calm though, as he waited for permission to enter the building.
"I'm sorry, sir, but it seems that Mr. Heavensbee is out at the moment. Perhaps if you return in a few weeks, he'll be able to see you. He is very busy with the Games at the moment."
Cinna gritted his teeth and nodded at the doorman. Turning on his heel, he tried to think of where he could go. Instantly thinking of Tigris's shop, he started walking.
When he walked in, he was surprised to hear frustrated voices coming from downstairs. Tigris wasn't at her usual spot behind the counter. As he approached the stairs leading downward, he recognized many of the voices, all regular members of the meetings. They were arguing about the girl.
"She can't be allowed to participate!"
"But what can we do? The entire country has seen her by now! There's no getting her out of it."
"There must be something that we can do!"
"No, we can't take her out of the Games. But we can try to give her an edge!"
"That's right! How many of us are involved in the events in the Games? Enough to make a difference in her survival!"
"We can't risk being caught, it will ruin everything we've been working towards for so long."
Just as Cinna was about to jump into the argument, Tigris pulled him off to the side and motioned for him to be quiet. He had been angry before, and throughout the walk to the shop he had felt his anger and frustration growing; but that was nothing compared to the fury he felt when he looked across the room and saw Plutarch standing up against the wall looking very pleased with himself, watching the others argue.
Plutarch stayed for a few more minutes without saying anything, then slipped up the stairs, unnoticed by many of the others. Cinna hesitated only a few moments before following him.
"Well, we'll never be able to use her as the face of the rebellion now…" one of the other's voices echoed after him as he left the shop.
It took him several minutes to catch up with Plutarch, mainly because he was trying to be inconspicuous about following him. He was almost directly behind him when Plutarch stopped and turned.
"Oh, hello Cinna," he said, his voice adding to the smug expression on his face. "Did you need something?"
Cinna was practically shaking with anger at the flippant way that Plutarch was acting, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he asked, "How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Fix the reaping. How did you make it so that her sister was chosen?"
Plutarch's calm facade wavered for a moment.
"The others wanted to keep her out of the Games, but you've been trying to find a way to get around that for a while now, haven't you?" Cinna asked, feeling more sure of it just as he said it.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Plutarch responded, looking down his nose at Cinna. "And I wouldn't worry about that girl if I were you. She's survived some difficult things. I'm sure that she'll do just fine." And with that, he walked away, leaving Cinna standing shocked in the middle of the street.
He really doesn't care, Cinna thought. He doesn't care that if that girl dies, all of the plans that the resistance has made will fall apart. She is their last hope of ever getting something done. We need her…
Cinna inhaled slowly, trying to decide what he should do. They don't think they'll be able to use her as the face of the rebellion. She'll die and it will be years before they find someone who could come close to replacing her. But maybe... maybe I can do something. She could win. Everyone would remember her, but only as another victor. Maybe I can help make her unforgettable, and I know just how to do it.
He went back to his apartment and sat down at the desk. After clearing a large space and laying a blank page down, he set to work.
|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|~O~|
Portia found him asleep at his desk the next morning.
"Cinna," she said quietly, not sure whether or not she should wake him. He jerked up at her voice and looked up at her, rubbing his eyes. She chuckled softly, then turned to look at what he had been working on.
"G'morning, Portia," he mumbled as he stretched. "What time is it?" When she didn't answer, he glanced up at her and saw her staring wide eyed at the drawing that he had been working on. "Portia?"
"It's beautiful," she whispered, reaching forward to lift the design up and hold it up to the light to see it better. "What made you think of this?"
"Something that happened last night." His voice held a bitter note, but she hadn't noticed, too absorbed in studying Cinna's intricate design.
"This isn't just a dress for a tribute, is it?" She raised one eyebrow slightly and the light silver etchings around her eyes shimmered, adding to her amused expression. "This is just for her." Cinna nodded, and Portia smiled. "It's perfect for her. Now tell me what happened last night," she said sternly as she laid the sheet down on the desk and faced him.
Cinna sighed, and after briefly considering how much he should tell her, he gave her a summary of the previous night's events.
"I'm positive that he rigged the drawing somehow. I can't believe that he would do this, especially after everyone has been so careful to make sure that none of the slips with her name on them were actually in with the rest. Somehow he managed to get them to draw the name of the one person that she would volunteer for." He shook his head, anger flashing in his eyes. "I have to make sure that she won't be forgotten, even if she doesn't make it. That's what this dress is for."
"You always have worked better when you're feeling passionate about something," Portia said with a wry smile.
"I try to express my emotions through my work, Portia. It's safer that way," he responded, sounding tired.
"For you, or for everyone else?" Before he could answer, she had grabbed his design again, and found another blank sheet. She bent her head over both pages, and began sketching another outfit. "I'll have to make something to compliment this gorgeous dress, now won't I?"
She looked over at him and grinned.
"Alright, we'll make both of them unforgettable."
"Who knows? Maybe they'll both be able to make a difference for the resistance." She bent her head back to the drawings.
This isn't just about the resistance anymore. There's so much more to it than that. He saw the small, sad smile on Portia's face as she finished the outline of her design.
But you know that already, don't you?