A/N: Sorry for the wait, just life's been hectic. Instead of revising for my German oral I've been writing for you lot (mainly thanks to one anonymous reviewer who's been epic, thank you so much!) and, erm... yeah. Life's like that. Anyway, got a decently sized chapter for you lot. Not much happens, but its fun, and you get to see Zen's reaction... and hear Haymitch and Chaff sing, and Kara get drunk, and, erm, well... yeah. Have fun, oh yeah, and check out this new hunger games fanfic I've started called "I Know You're There". It's a Finnick/Annie fic, for those of you who ship that couple (well, who doesn't?) and it's about Finnick when Annie arrives out of the hunger games and won't even speak to him. It's quite emotional, and I'm trying something new. Anyway, I plan for it to be a four-part fanfic in Finnick's POV evolving around a poem I wrote. With each chapter a new verse of the poem will be released. If you have time please read and review it. Thanks. ;D
I lie back in the chair, rocking back and forth in the seat as if the world can't possibly scathe me, massaging my pulsing temple. That must have been disinfectant last night, I can't believe Haymitch, Chaff and Finnick convinced me to drink some of that vile brew. Well, at least now I know why Haymitch's so bad tempered all of the time. Sighing, I lean back even further, brimming with confidence. On the outside at least. On the inside I'm a terrified little girl, shivering inside. Surrounding me is an array of bookshelves (I never even knew the people from the Capitol could read, I had just assumed they were all illiterate), choc-o-bloc with scribbles various designers have made and, as I was surprised to see, plenty of books with just empty pages. When I inquired as to why they were blank Ophelia replied in her same bewildered tone that they're for anyone from the Capitol who fancies giving writing a shot. Apparently they prefer to write in blank books as it gives them an atmosphere and they can feel themselves progressing as they flick through the pages. I absentmindedly nodded along and now I stretch my fingers out, snatching a nearby book from the ground and flicking it open whilst tugging at a biro pen from my pocket, hearing that satisfactory clicking sound as the nib of the pen pops into place as I push the button. I smile in pleasure as the pen scribbles across the blank page's unscathed surface. There, I can easily make notes if I need to now. Plus, I'm getting the hang of this whole 'mingle in with the Capitol' thing that victors have to do, and now I know why.
I turn my face upwards and across the grand and unblemished oak table, shining through enough coats of varnish to work doubly as effective as human skin on insulating the human body. Sitting on the left of the table is Ophelia and Zen, who I briefly smile to, and on the right of the table I face Heather and Renny, nervous faces staring in my direction and waiting for me to start.
"Right then," I say, clicking the pen once again so the nib burrows its way into the plastic casing, and then hurriedly click it once more so it jumps out again, like this cruel game I saw in something the people of the Capitol call an Arcade – sadistically named whack-a-mole. What type of pedantic and neurotic freak invents a game about killing harmless fuzzy animals? And it happens to sit beside clay pigeon shooting, hook-a-duck and some sort of shoot 'em out against harmless little bunny rabbits. I'll never understand the Capitol. "Allies – who you two planning to team up with then?"
There's an awkward pause as Renny and Heather exchange a knowing look. "I- I wasn't really planning to, you know, team up with anyone…" Renny murmurs, and Heather nods in agreement.
"Well that's a crap decision," I mumble, banging the table for effect and causing the two tributes to jump. Oh, I enjoy watching them squeal. Just as I find a giggling grin spreading across my face I notice Zen glance at me. While in the surface it may look like he's glaring at me because I just intimidated the tributes yet again, I know it's more to do with last night.
"Kara," Zen says, full sincerity in his voice and his brilliantly dazzling emerald green eyes lock into my deep blue, our worlds and words entwined, our whole lived matted together. "Kara – has he… is he doing this to you?"
And with a pause and a deep breath, I ever so slowly nod my head.
Zen's face seems to flash through every shade of colour known to man; and then every single shade of colour known to Capitol freak as well as an aftershock reaction. And then there's this daunting silence swelling inside the room, as if it's bulging and expanding so protruding pieces of its expanse suffocate the air in the room, silencing everyone. And all faces turn to me once again.
"Ka- Kara…" Zen stammers, and then loses colour in his face so it just strikes onto a brilliantly dazzling at yet shockingly hollow white. Is words seem to have been drained from his mouth, but finally he manages to push the next sentence out into the pregnant pause surrounding us. "Have you- have you done anything… you know… for him… like that?"
My face is hung low, as is my whole body, but if only one thing is soaring up high its my heart. And with such joy, relief and glee from me, Zen and probably everyone else in the room I speak, "no," then hastily I add, "and sure as the arena I'm not planning on doing anything like that for him - ever."
I'm surprised by the reaction I get. Whilst I was expecting a rousing cheer or a round of applause of even just a nod in agreement I get silence. Utterly cold and impenetrable silence. And then finally, ever so finally, someone speaks out. "I don't think that's a good idea, Kara." My face snaps towards the speaker and with a sinking in my heart I see Finnick's face, as pale as a sheet, brimming with worry, terrified. It's as if he was staring at a ghost of himself, the horror in his expression. I glance around and see that many other victors have the same expression on their face, and for once Johanna hasn't got a sarcastic comment to throw about.
"What do you mean, Finnick?" I stutter, knowing full well what he means, only wanting to hear it from his own mouth.
"Everything around you will crumble Kara, everything." Instead of Finnick replying its Johanna, and her expression stays solid, her heart just like a solid block of stone – cold and unmoving. Unmoving, untouchable, unlovable, yet somehow, deep down, understanding. As if she knows exactly what's going on in my head right now. "They killed my mother; and my father; and my brother; and my two sisters. They even killed my pet dog."
"Don't think they'll go easy on you just because you're something of an asset to them," Beetee whispers, letting his glasses slide down his nose without propping them back up like he usually does, as if he doesn't care.
"Don't think they'll go easy on you because the Capitol loves you," adds Finnick.
"Don't think they'll go easy on you because you're some sort of role model to the rest of the victors," Seeder speaks up, causing a drunken Chaff to snort in humour.
"Don't think they'll go easy on you due to the fact you've always held them in the highest regard and are a supporter of theirs," Argon speaks up, the crouching figure on the floor suddenly becoming a lot more real.
"And don't", Haymitch growls, "really don't think they'll go easy on you because you're better than them. Because you're not, none of us are."
"Just don't think they'll go easy on you Kara, because they won't, they really won't" Blight, Johanna's district partner, finishes, wrapping everything up. An ominous pause fills the room and then suddenly Johanna sniggers.
"That sounds like some sort of demented Capitol song."
Ten seconds later almost all of the victors are singing along to the lines in rounds and Seeder and Argon even have something of a harmony going on. Haymitch and Chaff, of course, are drowning it all out with drunken bellowing, modifying the words of the song so it fits to their rather cacophonic tune.
"Don't think they'll go easy on you because you're clever,
Don't think they'll go easy on you because they love you,
Don't think they'll go easy on you because you're a role model,
Don't think they'll go easy on you because you worship them,
And don't, really don't, think they'll go easy on you because, because, because…"
"Because," shrieks Finnick in a shrill and penetrating voice, almost shattering the window in the room.
"You're better than them! They won't, they won't, they really, really won't!" finish Haymitch and Chaff in a drunken slur before cracking open a new bottle of something that slightly resembles toilet disinfectant.
"Okay…" murmurs Zen and slowly backs out of the room, leaving me alone with the next chorus of drunken ramblings from Haymitch, Chaff, and ashamedly Finnick who's starting to swig at the disinfectant as well. Naturally I join in.