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I See You Soar
It seemed that my life had a new structure now. Games - Victory Tour - Games - Victory Tour - there was no saying how long this circle would be repeating itself. Even if one of my tributes won, it would not change. I would still be passed around even if I was not mentoring anymore. At least I thought I would. Maybe not if my victor was prettier than me. The thought itself haunted me for a week because of how guilty it made me feel.
Though at some times, the situation seemed hopeless, I refused to give up. The knowledge of District Thirteen's existence had sparked something in me, a small bit of belief that one day, it might get better.
I did not share my knowledge, though, figuring that it might do more harm than good. Even to me alone, knowing this seemed dangerous. If Snow ever learnt that I knew he would surely dispose of me, or, worse, my family. No one proved that to me better than Johanna Mason.
She was the very picture of self-confidence and frankness. Every time that she opened her mouth, I thought it a wonder that she was still allowed to live. Actually, I was not the only one.
"People are talking," Seneca Crane told me at the Victor's Dinner. "They don't like her very much."
"Well, I'm not surprised," I said. "She's quite a handful."
The frown on his face told me that he would have picked harsher words. Knowing him, he would not have spoken them, though. Seneca was one of those people who would do anything for a good reputation, especially if 'anything' was holding back their own opinion.
"I don't think you realize how serious this is," he said. "People might lose their positions for this."
I raised a sophisticated eyebrow at him. "Who are you referring to?"
He looked around before taking a step closer to me. "Bacchus Edge."
"The Head Gamemaker?" I asked, surprised by my surprise. If anyone had to go because of a Hunger Games disaster, of course it would be the Head Gamemaker.
Seneca's smirk indicated that he had hoped for that reaction. "Indeed."
"And who will replace him?" I asked.
Seneca did not answer me. He stepped back and looked around again, the look on his face as he did so was answer enough.
"You?" I breathed.
"Quiet," he hissed. "No one's supposed to know yet!"
I grinned at him, possible scenarios unfolding before my inner eye. Did he not already owe me a favour? The options seemed unlimited.
"We should celebrate that," I said. "Let me get us a drink."
Seneca sent me off with a small smile and a nod and I made my way through the chattering crowd. Several times, I got dragged to the side and offered something to eat. I tried to be polite about it, but always had to drop Crane's name before they allowed me to leave.
I finally made it to the other side of the room and ordered two glasses of champagne from a tall, broad Avox. Sometimes I wondered if the Capitolites were not afraid that this practice would backfire on them eventually. He disappeared into a room behind him while I checked the room for the quickest way back through the room.
My searching was interrupted by a muffled voice nearby. I frowned at the sniffling sound and looked around to see where it was coming from. There were only laughing faces around me, but the sound of crying was unmistakable. I perked up my ears and gingerly moved a step into the direction that I supposed the sound was coming from. And another. And another. The sound got louder.
I looked around to make sure no one was following me and slipped out of the same door the Avox had used. It was a storage room, full of crates and boxes. It took a moment before my eyes adjusted fully to the dim light, but then I saw her.
Johanna Mason was curled up on the floor, leaning against one of the shelves. Tears were running down her face, her eyes were already red and swollen.
"Oh, honey," I breathed. "What's up?"
She flinched violently as she noticed me. Angrily, she wiped the tears away and got off the floor. "I'm fine," she said in a throaty voice.
"I can see that," I said. "Won't you tell me what's going on?"
"You wouldn't understand," she said, glaring at me. The girl was still fighting against the tears.
"Try me," I suggested.
She hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in her stance before she relented. "It's my family."
I frowned. "What about them?"
"They're dead," she said flatly.
My eyes widened at her while she kept staring at her feet. "I'm sorry," I said.
"It's my fault," she said.
"Don't say that," I responded at once. "I'm sure you-"
"I told him no, you see," she said, looking up sharply. Her eyes, still swimming with tears were suddenly filled with anger and hatred. "Snow."
I blinked a few times before I suddenly understood. She had told him no. He had offered her the same deal he had offered me, but Johanna had not believed that he would really go through with harming any of her loved ones. She had refused and now her family was dead.
"I am so sorry," I said.
"I don't need your pity," she bit out.
"You don't get pity," I said. "But I am angry about what they did to you. And I wish I could do anything to make that better. So that's what you'll get from me if you'll have it."
She eyed me curiously and finally gave a sharp nod. "You're Berenice, right?"
"That's me," I said.
Johanna nodded again. Then, she wiped the remaining tears away and squared her shoulders. Without another word, she strut out of the door and I followed with a small, sad smile.
Johanna returned briskly to her escort and mentor. My gaze followed her until she passed Finnick. I had the sudden urge to tell him about the encounter. I was already starting in his direction, when the Avox tipped me on the shoulder. He had my ordered glasses of champagne and pressed them into my hands before bustling off again.
I sighed heavily, staring at the sparkling liquid. I had forgotten all about Seneca Crane waiting for me at the other side of the room. I took a large sip of the champagne and began my way back through the crowd.
Now that I carried the glasses, people let me pass in peace. In fact, most shied away a little, probably afraid that I might accidently spill the contents on their precious gowns.
I reached Seneca, who had been joined by two elder men: one fat, with very little hair and one incredibly thin, who in turn had the largest moustache I had ever seen.
"Seneca," I said, handing him the full glass. "Sorry for the delay, this party is crazy."
All three men let out a polite laugh and I took another sip. I did not feel like I could properly laugh politely right now.
"These are Appius and Hadrian, two of my colleagues. Fellow gamemakers," Seneca introduced.
"Pleased to meet you," I said, smiling. My eyes wandered over the room toward Finnick again. I really wanted to talk to him and my mind was spinning with possible excuses, none of them executable.
"The pleasure's all mine," the moustache-man said. "I was just saying to Seneca how much you remind me of Eunice."
My heart suddenly dropped, all thoughts of Johanna or Finnick flew out of my mind as the moustache-man caught my attention like one catches a fly with honey.
"You knew my mother?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," he said. "She was quite a beauty. Very much like you."
"Enough, Appius," Seneca scolded gently. "I got the drink from the lady."
"Sure," the moustache-man said with a sick grin. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
I took a deep breath to swallow down the sudden disgust welling up in me. "How very friendly of you," I said.
He bowed lightly, then clapped Seneca on the shoulder and stalked away, followed by his colleague. Seneca turned his gaze back to me, obviously sensing my displeasure, but drawing the wrong conclusion.
"Sorry about that," Seneca said. "Appius is a little peculiar."
I took another shuddering breath. "Don't worry about it, dear," I said, reaching out to take his hand. "Let's enjoy this party."
Seneca smiled broadly and clinked his glass with mine.
I did not get around to talking to Finnick for the remainder of the party, for Seneca did not let me out of his eyes again. I did not mind Seneca Crane all that much and so I did my best not to let him know that my mind was elsewhere.
When I left the next morning, I directly took the elevator up to Level Four. Finnick, I knew, never spent the night out and so I was confident to find him there. I was right, too, but Finnick was still asleep, spread out on the couch as if he had come in and just fallen down.
I walked towards him, hoping that he would wake from my footsteps, but he did not. Sighing heavily, I reached out and touched his shoulder. Finnick woke immediately and I had to jump back to escape his flailing arms. He took me in, breathing heavily.
"Nissa," he said. "Don't do that."
"Sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to scare you."
He brushed a hand through his messy hair. Sometimes I understood perfectly well why girls all over the country were swooning over him. "Why are you here, then?" he asked groggily.
I sat down at the edge of the couch with an exhausted smile. "It's Johanna," I told him.
"District Seven Johanna?" Finnick asked. "Victor Johanna?"
"Yes," I said. "That Johanna."
Finnick groaned and leant his head back against the couch. "I thought we don't like her," he said.
I rolled my eyes at him. "That was before Snow murdered her whole family."
He turned his head slowly towards me, still resting against the couch. "What?"
I got up again and started pacing up and down in front of the sofa. "He offered her our deal and she refused. So he killed them all."
Finnick sat up straight, all signs of tiredness gone from his face. He watched me as I continued pacing in front of him, trying to sort out my troubled thoughts. "All of them?"
"All of them," I repeated.
Finnick buried his head in his hands, groaning again. I stopped right in front of him, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
"He's really going to do it," I said in a small voice. "I guess I didn't fully believe it, but.. He's going to do it."
He got up as well, again raking a hand through his hair. When he met my eyes again, they seemed to be alight with anger. "I hate him," he ground out. "I hate them all! One day, I'll grab my trident and I spear them, one by one-"
"Stop!" I interrupted him, horrified by his words. "You can't say things like that. Just imagine if they find out-"
He took several deep, shuddering breaths, eyes still blazing.
"You can't talk like that," I said. "Please. I know it's not right. All of this isn't right. But we can't talk like that, just imagine... my family. Your family. Mags, Annie-"
"All right, all right," Finnick said. "I get the picture."
He fell back onto the couch and I followed suit, sinking into the soft cushions. Finnick stared blankly ahead, his posture clearly strained with the anger still filling him.
"I'm afraid, you know," I said quietly.
He did not answer and instead reached out and pulled me into his side. I snuggled into him as we remained silent, trying to find comfort in the warmth of our embrace.
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