Ok thinks are about to get entresting. This chapter is completly for Cinna (he is my seconed fav. guy charicter)... can anyone guess the first? *cough* Peeta *cough*
Kendra escorted me to the elevator. Then down into District 13 I went. When I finnaly found the room my fitting was in I opened the door. Yards of bright fabric layed everywere. Most were white. It would of been easy to get lost in the mess. In the center of the room was a small stage like thing half way surronded by three mirrors. Close by was the only visable seet. In it sat Cinna.
He sat leaning into the palm of his hand, like he was thinking heard. His brown hair covred one of his coco brown eyes, the golden tips brushing his eye lids. It grew out a bit when he was a prisoner, but now it was trimmed a bit. He wore his tape messure on his neck completing his outfit. Some how he must of got his hands on golden eye liner because there on his face was Cinna's siguture look.
Cinna glanced over at me. "Oh your here he said," sitting up with a bit of a smile coming to his face, "Best get to work."
"I guess so," I said. "So what am I wearing?"
"For what," Cinna asked. Apprently his mine was somewere else.
"For my wedding," I answerd.
"Oh yes. You and Peeta. I heard."
"So what am I wearing? I guess not all white."
"Well it would go aginst the idea behind that trend. Speaking of which I must remeber to leave room so I can talior in next month to fix you."
"Why don't you just make sure it fits now?" I asked. Cinna raised an eye brow at me. Oh yeah I could grow more in just a month.
"Anyways we must begain," Cinna announced and off he went.
First he took new mesurments for me. Obiusely the old ones won't work. Then he fiddled around with some fabric. But every time he cut something or sewed a seem he just shock his head and discarded the fabric.
"Are you ok, Cinna?" I asked as I watched him try to get the white thread through the needle.
He took in a deep breath and drooped the thread and neetle. Then exhaled. "No. Not so mush of me not being ok. More so some one else far from ok," he replied. His eyes had a distant look in them.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Katniss," he said completly disregarding my question, "Do you know were I was born?"
"The Capitol?" I guessed.
"No," he shock his head. "I was the only child of factory owner in District 8. I don't even know either of my parent's names. It's not really amaizing I was his only child thowe, because I was the only one he had a chance to have. My mother. She was his misstress. He never had a wife. My mother died shortly after my birth. So in law my father took me in. As far as finances go he was doing pretty good because his factory manufactored Peace Keeper uniforms. He just left me at home with a nanny all day and night. I was nothing other then a problem to him. That was untill..."
"Daddy, were are we going?" I asked as he dragged my five year old self throw a labreth of hall ways. He had to take care of me that day because my nanny was ill.
"We're going to my work," he said in a stern, cold hearted voice, "and stop calling me daddy."
"Sorry Daddy," I said feeling ashamed.
We got to his office and many adults were there. Some were easly destingused as men of the Capitol.
"Dead line is now," said on of them in a deep voice. "We need a new design for the uniforms."
"I'm sorry I can't think of anything," said my father.
That started a cucofny of screams and yells from the adults. I, haveing no desire to hear it, was bord. Like any young child I used my imagenation. There was tons of paper on the desk and some pencils two. I grabbed a peace of paper and a pen then headed off to the corner to draw.
I tryed to ignore the argument across the room. Soon I heard that cold, harsh voice from above, "Boy, are you drawing on my paper work?" my father yelled in my face.
"But," I started.
"I don't want buts," he screamed. He then grabbed one of my ears and dragged me into the light that alumanated the area by the table. "You see this?" he asked still yelling as he held up my artwork. "This is my work and you missed it all up! Why I should-"
"Wait," said one of the men cutting Father off. That man grabbed my drawing and looked at it hard. Some of the others joined in. Soon a few wispreds started and then. "Child," the Capitol's man asked, "Would you fully explain your drawing."
My father slowly released his grip. Soon I pulled away and approched the adults. I told them all about the drawing. It was a rough drawing of the Peace Keepers uniforms you see today. I told them the material I would use and the methods of peacing it together. They seemed impressed, as if they never seen a five year old boy explain an outfit design.
Years rolled by and soon more people wanted to know about the fashion protagee. I had notebooks stacked to the roof in designs. When I was 8 they took me away from District 8. Ironic isn't it.
It took some planing and time, but after a year I moved to District 1. I was nine going on ten then. I learned much and taght much. I was not always keen on the Capitol's fashions. Some were just plain upsurded. But I did find I enjoyed it there.
When I was 12 it became my first reeping. I had no use for tesarre because the Capitol took care of my food and education along with bording. I only had one slip of paper among thousands. I remeber bighting my nails, hoping I was not to be choosen. What would I do? Sufficate people in fabric.
Our escort, a scinny woman who had orange skin and blue hair, read off the girls name. It was some 17 year old with a pale skin and glittering pink tattos down her face that rubbed aginst her flawless blond hair. Next was the boys. I hoped and hoped.
"The male tribut for District 1 is... Cinna!" yelled out our escort with such joy. All the cameras and lights directed towarrds me. Thankfully when vollenteers were asked for, just about half of the males in the district raced up there. It ended up a guy with black hair and tanned skin got it.
Althow I was in the Hunger Games for a matter of seconeds it gave everyone a fright. That year the Captiol's people worked long and hard to get me in the Capitol before the next reeping. The officials said I could become a citzen in the Capitol at the age of 13. Unfrotunatly my birthday is one week after the reepings. Making it impossible to get me out on time. But they found a loop hole. Because my mom did not give birth to me in a hospital and my father never cared to look into it, I don't have any offical birth cirtifacate. There for the Capitol declered my birthday one month before the reeping. All in all they did get me to the Capitol in time. But that never stops me wondering one question. If my name was drawn in District 8, would anyone vollenteer for me?
In the Capitol I went to a school entierly dedicated to fashion. I thought it would be much like District 1. Were a large mix of boys and girls come to learn. Were I would be popular like back in District 1. But no. I quickly found out that the schools had a large majority of girls and few guys. Many of the male students that attended the privet school were... how do I put this... gay. It was very acward being around a guy who was flirting with you and the girls, well I was never good at talking to them. So I ended up sitting back roll and seconed seat from the right every class period. I would sit, sometimes listen, but mostly draw.
I stayed in this silants until three years later when I was 16. Then I ment her.
"Class," sang my teacher, "Plase welcome our newest student, Portia."
I looked up from my drawing and saw a beautiful woman. Her cherry pink hair was pinned up in curls, highlights of dark coffe brown matched her brown eyes with easy. She wore a simple brown and pink dress and held a pink purse. Then she gave a smile with her baby pink lips and sat down. Her seat was the one right infront of mine.
I wanted to talk to her, but I was to afraid. Soon I stopped drawing my designs and drew what ever outfit she chose to wear that day. All were beautiful. It took weeks before our first conversation, but I remember every word.
"Cinna?" asked Portia as she turned to talk to me.
"Yes," I answered in a nervous tone.
"I was wondering what your drawing all the time."
"Oh," I said not wanting to show my note book.
"I heard that you came here on scholership. Is that right?" she asked still smiling.
I nodded my head.
"I guess you must be really good. Do you mind if I see some of your work?"
"No," I said grabbing one of my older notebooks and handing it to her.
The thumbed through the pages. Than stopped. "Why dose this one says flames beside it?" she asked.
"Because I though it would bring the outfit together if you set the cape and headpeace on fire," I said, not at all confadent in my work.
"It certantly would be a show," she said, "But I suppose you need a new design for the frunal."
"Oh no," I said, "I have some plans for the matirial. I would just have some bugs to work out."
"Wow," she said in total amaizemnt. "Have you ever made this one?" she asked holding up a sketch.
It was one I did for her on the last page. It was simple yet beautiful. Pink and brown.
"No," I answerd.
"I wish you did. I would love to wear it," she said.
I think at that time I was blushing a bit. "I suppose I could make it for you."
"Really?" she asked in excightment.
"Sure," I responeded.
"That's great. Would you want to come over to my house or should I go to yours?" Portia asked with a bright smile.
I thought of my small room with the tiny bed and desk. Not really presentable and clean. "Your home is fine," I answed.
"Ok," she said. At that time the bell rang signaling to continue to our next class. "See you after school, Cinna," she yelled from down the hall way.
"Bye," I wispred.
That whole day I waited for her. Maybe this was fate or maybe it was a crul joke. I just knew I was now going over to Portia's home to make her a dress. This could be my chance.
We met in the school lobby and approched a limo as she called it. The car streched for what seemed to be miles. But compared to her house the vehical was nothing.
"Come on Cinna," Portia said entering a hotel building.
"Were are we?" I asked.
"Home," she answered, "Daddy owns the entire building."
"Ok," I said still amazed.
Finaly we got to her suite. She opended the door. The whole suite was done in pink and brown. It took a while but finaly I wipped up the dress. By that time it was late in the night. I hope i didn't miss my cerfew.
"Oh it looks beautiful, Cinna," Portia said twirling around before the mirror.
"Thanks," I said.
"Your amazing!" She exclaimed.
"Thanks," I restated.
"You don't really say much. Do you Cinna?" she asked her huge brown eyes stairing at me.
"Um... I guess not," I said coming to that realization. "Most of the time I'm the only person that will listen." I sat down on the chair that was infront of the sewing machine.
"I'll listen to you," she said pulling up a chair to sit in. "Say anything that's on your mind."
"Will you go out with me?" I asked not realizing I released that sentance.
Portia stumbled in her walk. "Your not gay?" she half yelled half asked.
"No," I replied.
"Oh," she said. Portia sat down the said, "Ok."
"Ok what?"
"I'll go out with you."
From that moment on my life was changed.
We spent every waking moment with each other. She had a father that ignored her and a mother that was consumed with the Capitol life and no siblings. I had no one but her. We were a good match. Slowly I came out of my shell, for her. Everything was going fine till we graduated.
It was a week after graduation (highschool plus 4 year collage Cinna is not 22 years). I was able to buy a nice apartment overlooking the only park in the Capitol. I was just putting in the finishing touches to my living room when a kock came to the door.
I opened it. There was Portia sobbing and trying to wipe tears at the same time.
"What's wrong, Portia?" I asked as I grabbed her wrist and led her to the coutch. Knowing her six year, she has never been the kind of girl to sit and cry.
"I...I," she started in a wabbly voice.
"You what?" I asked.
"I hate him," she said.
"Who? Me?" I asked so worried about what or who hurt my love so much.
"No," she said then made another failded attempt to wipe off the tears. "Father."
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"He... arranged... marrage," she said between sobs.
"Portia, I can't understand you," I said trying to clam her.
"He said I had to have and arranged marrage or no marrage at all!" she screamed.
"With who," I asked my voice turing grim.
"Some guy in some office," she cryed. "Cinna, I want to marry you."
I took her and hugged her close. This is the first I heard that although I'm sure the thought pasted both of our minds mulitble times. "I do too," I wispred.
From that day forward it was desited that Portia would stay single for the rest of her life.
Soon after wards her father was getting suspitouse about all the time she spent with me. Therefor she made a lie saying I was gay. Let's just say I wasn't happy about that. As time moved on and I was about to turn 23, Portia came to the point were she no longer wanted to go home. So as a simple solution she moved in with me. Of course she had a diffrent bedroom. But one night...
"Cinna?" she asked creeping in my room. "Are you awake?"
"I am now," I yawned.
"I'm afraid of thunder."
"Since when?" I asked.
"Since five minutes ago," Portia complaided. "Oh, just let me sleep in your bed tonight."
I honastly did not want to deal with a fight, so I lifted the covers. She then crawled in the bed.
"Cinna, do you love me?" she asked.
"More then anything," I said.
"I love you too."
I then wispred in her ear, "There's no rain storms tonight."
She giggled then tuned and kissed me. Despite the loss of sleep that was the best night of my life.
To be continued...
Sorry but it was getting a bit long and I wanted to post a story.