A/N: Okay, this is the biggest chapter I have ever written...
Also I have no idea what to name this chapter...
As always, criticism is welcomed (as long as it is delivered nicely)
With training over, all we had left was the interview with Caesar. I woke up with prodding from my prep team. A barely rosy hue seeping through the curtain crack. Finnick's prep team is also in the room. After all the years of waking at the crack of dawn to get onto Sonja, it is easy to shake off the lack of rest. Finnick and I were up late last night reminiscing.
The usual chatter came with the prep team. It is this time when I miss my Lupia. She, unfortunately, isn't District 4's fashion designer. I would have preferred her over any of these people. She knows what I like. Hopefully, this year's designer talked a bit with her; which I doubt after the whole 'wearing a net' fiasco that was the chariot ride.
I ended up getting a short trim of my hair. I wanted a larger cut, especially in preparation for the arena, but apparently, short hair isn't 'in' right now. My hair is rolled in coils. Large and bursting from my hair almost. It is lightened on the ends and left down thankfully. They end up clipping in various sizes of white pearls in my hair, almost looking like water drops. My nails are shaped again, relatively short, and painted with a pale gleaming blue. My face glows with the serum they place on it. They add something new, making it look like my cheeks hold water droplets, and on my eyelashes. A deadly siren luring my victims to drown.
I was dressed rather conservatively, compared to my normal capital garb, meaning it's a floor-length dress with no slit. The top plunged in a deep v, but the straps were relatively wide, covering my shoulders. The top was a shimmery white and it transitioned into a deep blue by the bottom of the dress. The bottom was composed of layers and layers of tulle. Folding over the layers. The top layer of the tulle was far shorter in the front than the ones underneath, almost opening up. The entire dress gave off the appearance of waves crashing against the sand. Deep blue waves with tips of the frosty, foamy sea. It might be my favorite dress I have ever worn. It reminds me of home. Of my deck. Of Ridley and Dad.
Lupia walks in with the designated stylist. We don't talk. It isn't what we do. She merely smiles and hugs me. A hug I reciprocate gratefully. I meet up with Finnick and Mags and we all head to the elevator. Finnick is in a blue suit, a white shirt. He looks good. He always looks good, he just looks particularly good now.
"Thanks. You look…. Exquisite. A lovely water nymph, leading me safely home." He says. Internally I am freaking out. I didn't mean to say that out loud. How much did I say out loud? Wait- he just said I look good too.
"Thank you. I don't know about a 'water nymph'. More like an angry siren leading to sailors' deaths if we are going to be more accurate".
"Then I would gladly drown, to get a kiss". Finnick. I had never really been on the opposite end of Finnick's charm. I have borne witness to it, and always rolled my eyes at the melting of capital hearts, but this… I guess now I know. He had never been so forward with me. We couldn't afford to be. But… I like this Finnick.
My heart was stuttering in my chest. This hasn't happened to me before. Usually, I am all charm and witty when capitalists are like this. But this is different. I care about Finnick and what he thinks and says. Before I could lose my nerve, " You wouldn't have to die to get one".
"Promise?"
Before I could, we were interrupted. We were all ready to the designated area and Jo and came sauntering over. As always, decked as a tree, like all other tributes from 7. Scoffing, "Well- you both look decent I suppose".
"Thanks, you look good to Jo"
Of course, Finnick's response was a bit different than mine. Finnick acted outraged at the mere idea of looking anything less than exquisite. "Decent? Decent? Johanna, I have never-" before he could continue joking I ended up patting his arm. I would say he was lying but, I have seen him in the morning. When everyone is supposed to look disheveled and messy. Finnick is a gorgeous sleeper; it's unfair I wake up with a mess of curls to deal with and he wakes up just as handsome as normal. His sleepy eyes and warm smile.
I play along with Finnick's outrage, "Shh. Shh. It's ok Finnick, I am sure she didn't mean it". My hand is still on his arm. When I go to take it back, he covers it with his own. My eyes trail up to his, a question in my eyes. It remains unanswered, his gaze focused on Jo again.
The conversation continued as if this is normal. Well, it was normal back at home, but here in the capital, we are careful. Finnick has thrown out our usual, thrown out the caution, thrown out the thick rule book we seem to follow whenever here. What has gotten into him today? First all the flirting, and not the teasing flirtation we play with, real flirting, and now this. I should be mad. I should be annoyed at him. But I can't help it when my mouth curls into a smile.
"Have you decided on allies yet, lovely Johanna?"
"Yeah. Blight and I talked with Mags and a couple of others about it." She must have gone last night after the individual session. Before I could reply to that the lovebirds of 12 entered.
She is wearing a wedding dress. Her wedding dress. It is silent. All of us are just watching. Outrage, disbelief, shock, they all unfold. I can't tell what I am feeling. All of them? It is a good move to sway the crowd, but…
Finnick broke our silence, "I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing". I doubt he had the choice. Cinna doesn't seem like the type.
"He didn't have any choice. President Snow made him," Katniss spit out.
Cashmere tosses her blond curls, "Well, you look ridiculous!" She clutches Gloss' hand and pulls him into place to start the march onto the stage. The rest of us take it as a queue to prepare to start. I can't help but overhear the advice Jo gave Katniss, "Make him pay for it, okay?"
I am willing to bet, most of us are planning on it tonight. 2 probably won't, and the morphlings won't, 5 is too drunk to do anything meaningful, but there is enough of us here.
Caesar begins his opening spiel, his hair and face changed to lavender this year in his annual color update. Cashmere, lovely Cashmere is the first to be interviewed. Making a point to cry fat tears. Commenting on how much the people in the Capital are suffering because they will lose all of us. Gloss came out next, recalling the 'kindness' shown to him and Cashmere from the capital. When Caesar inquires, "Do you have anyone you are particularly close to?"
Gloss shot me a glance, "Not romantically, Caesar. But, I have found a good friend that will be hard to lose." The capital cried at that. My hands were clasping onto themselves. Already desperate for a piece of rope, that exclamation made them more twitchy.
The camera caught Gloss' shift of eyes and panned over to me. I made sure I gave a softer smile and I could have sworn the audience gave a collective sob at that response. I couldn't afford to look over at Finnick to see his response. I know he had a hard time accepting Gloss and me. While not romantic, which he understands, we were able to have something Finnick and I couldn't.
I had a bit of time to formulate a plan on how I would handle Caesar's questions, which for sure will come up in response to that tidbit of information when District 2 and 3 is interviewed. 2 had normal responses to questions, it is just a normal game for them. But, Beetee questions the legality of the Quell, wondering if it's been fully analyzed by experts.
"From District 4, Maria Moher!", the same introduction as my first interview with Caesar…
"From District 4, Maria Moher!", Caesar welcomes me to the stage drawing particular emphasis on the r's by rolling them. Always so extravagant for the camera. I remember what Mags coached me on. Big smiles and lots of little waves. Swishing my dress around me and even blew a few kisses as I made my way over to the host. When Caesar goes to grab me by my elbows I pull him in for 2 kisses. One on either side of his face. He reciprocates and even plays along, letting one arm slip through his until we are holding hands. He leads me over to a soft pallet.
I sit far forward, straight back, crossing my legs at my ankles. I am sure to arrange my dress so it drapes pleasantly over my lap and to the floor. The sparkling teal looks especially like the leaming ocean with the way it lies.
"Maria"
Nothing else followed that train of thought I suppose for Caesar said nothing at all. I don't know what he expected but he certainly laughed a great deal when I parallelled him with a mere "Ceaser". I had hunched over a bit, which I was asked to refrain from doing, but I couldn't resist leaning forward and setting my chin on my hand.
What the capital citizens found so funny is beyond me, but I know the more charming I seem the better sponsors will be. "So Maria how are you liking the capital"
"Well- it is nice I suppose, having something for dinner besides fish". Mags had advised me earlier to keep it light and charming. The switch to a deeper conversation. She was sure he would ask about my brother.
Eventually, after the meaningless fluff questions he did, "I could have sworn I recognize your name"
I pull him and the audience in. Acting coy, "Ohh Caesar, I wouldn't want to dampen the mood. We've been having a grand time so far."
Caesar played into it, "You simply must tell us now".
"Well, I was actually almost on television 2 years ago. We were very close to meeting each other. My family was interviewed, you see. My twin brother Montane competed. Unfortunately, he ended up dying 9th."
I took a pause, this is where I need them to focus. I also needed a pause for my sanity. While crying would pull some hearts, I can't look too weak, especially after my scores. "Ridley, my younger brother still doesn't really understand he isn't coming back. So I made a promise to myself that I would"
It is this interview I try to replicate when Caesar calls me over. He welcomed me to the stage. A year or two ago he stopped emphasizing his r's and now makes sure to enunciate my name by emphasizing the 'm'. This time I am not all giant grins and lots of kisses. I want them to reminisce, but it needs to be bitter memories, not sweet. Caesar pulls me in, in our typical way, grabbing my elbows while I grasp his forearms. I give him the customary two kisses, one on either cheek. Drawing back until we are holding hands, and giving each other a short squeeze.
I sit down on the matching lavender pallet, Caesar sitting in a lavender chair across from me. I sit far forward, crossing my legs at my ankle, right foot behind left, my legs leaning to the right. I briefly arrange my tulle to sit nicely. The ombre tulle looks especially like the ocean with the way it lies.
"Darling, Maria"
Just like that first time, I hunched over a bit, arms on my legs, right elbow up, and my chin resting delicately on my hand. "Dearest, Caesar". Of course this time, it lacked the joyful, mischievous tone. Instead melancholy filled the air and the audience. There was no laugh and my response.
"Maria, I have had the privilege of interviewing you for a long while now. How long has it been?
"6 years Caesar"
"6 years? No, it can't have been that long."
"It certainly has been that long caesar. You definitely haven't aged a day"
"Ohh. Maria, such a flatterer. If I haven't aged a day, you certainly have not. You always look miraculous."
"And you say I'm the flatterer"
"Ohh we are getting off-topic. What was I saying? Oh yes, it has been a long time, and you have been hiding something from all of us… I am sure the audience is also begging to know, since when have you and Gloss been so close? And why haven't we known about it?"
There's the question I was waiting for. Ever since Gloss let it slip with his glance. I had to decide on how much I was going to tell. Certainly not all of it, but it was a toss-up between just mentioning we got closer in the capital, to maybe hinting at a relationship. "Gloss and I are a bit complicated Caesar, you might have to be a bit more specific." There was a cry from the crowd at that statement
"Complicated?" Caesar lifted his brow into an arch at that.
"Yes. Complicated… Gloss was correct in that we are dear friends. Like all Victors, we get to know everyone at parties and through mentoring. But, Gloss was the one who got me more comfortable here in the capital after I won my games. He introduced me to people, and we often found ourselves in the same circle of friends. Naturally, we grew closer because of that."
"So there never was anything…?"
"Well; there was a time where we… but he knew I was and am in love with someone else. Gloss is a good friend. It will be hard to be in there with good friends." It took a great deal of time for the crowd to settle at the idea of two victors getting together, especially 'favorites'.
Caesar tried to skip over that statement, "Don't think I didn't hear that proclamation of love Maria."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Caesar". I couldn't tell them who, I couldn't even say it to him, but indirectly I can.
"Unfortunately for you Caesar, I am not one to kiss and tell."
"Is there any way I can make you budge on that stance, Maria? Come on, just give us a smidge of information"
"Only for you Caesar '', making sure there was a brief pause before continuing, "I never thought I would be as close to someone as I was with Montane. I never even imagined I would get anywhere close to the amount of love I held for him. There is a special bond between family, a bond even closer between twins. When I lost Monty, I lost a piece of myself. A piece I thought would remain empty until I died and was with him again. But when I am with this person, I feel as whole as when I was 12."
The crowd was crying now, sobbing tears as big as Cashmere, only they were real. When it was quiet enough to continue Caesar thanked me for sharing. Then he commented about Monty, "You don't talk about him, your twin, that much"
"No. I don't. It is hard, but I figured this would be the last opportunity I would have". At that, the tears that had just stopped running ran rivers down cheeks.
I was running out of time, so I gave my last statement to Casar and the Capital. "I am thankful to you Caesar for listening to me all these years. For the capital, allowing me to watch my brother grow up. I just wish he didn't have to lose another sibling. At least he is at the age where he can understand this time. And while it pains me to say goodbye to all of you, to say goodbye to my love, my family, I find some comfort in saying hello to Monty again." At that, the buzz signaled my end. My last interview for Caesar and the capital. The last time I would wear this capitol mask.
I head back to my seat and pass Finnick on his way up to Caesar. Green meets blue for a half-second and then he is gone, behind me starting his interview. Finnick recites a poem he wrote to his one true love in the Capitol, and about a hundred people faint because they're sure he means them. But I know. I know.
…My love, you have my heart for eternity,
And if, if I die in that arena,
My last thought will be of your lips.
By the time Jo gets up, she's questioning if something can't be done about the situation. Surely the creators of the Quarter Quell never expected such love forming between the victors and the Capitol. No one could be so heartless as to sever such a deep bond. Yelling about how this wasn't the deal we made. Seeder calmly ruminates about how, back in District 11, everyone presumes President Snow is all-powerful. So if he's all-powerful, why doesn't he change the Quell? And Chaff, who comes right on her heels, insists the president could change the Quell if he wanted to, but he must not think it matters.
By the time the last district came up the crowd was devastated. And then Katniss walked out in her wedding gown. Capitolites had been weeping, collapsing, crying for change, but the sight of her in her wedding dress practically caused a riot. The star-crossed-lovers of District 12 no more.
Finally, there's a lull and he gets out, "So, Katniss, obviously this is a very emotional night for everyone. Is there anything you'd like to say?"
Voice trembling Katniss replies, "Only that I'm so sorry you won't get to be at my wedding ... but I'm glad you at least get to see me in my dress. Isn't it just ... the most beautiful thing?". At that, she starts to spin. Her wedding dress is in flames, smoke billowing around her pearls hitting the stage. Once the smoke clears, we can see her dress. Stunning, like everything Cinna does. Dangerous. I mourn for him. While the rest of us subtly question the capital he makes a statement with Katniss' dress.
A replica of her wedding dress design, but coal colored and covered in feathers. With a lift of her arms, long flowing sleeves make wings. He turned her into a Mockingjay. A statement she reiterates at Caesar's questioning.
Once a token, now a symbol for much more.
I don't think I could be more shocked, something that changed with Peeta's interview.
"Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew," says Peeta, starting to get upset. "But who could've seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere —I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?" "You couldn't, Peeta." Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. "As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."
A roar of applause followed. Stopped by his response- "I'm not glad. I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."
Caesar voices everyone's thoughts, "Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"
It is then that Peeta drops the biggest shock of the night. Bigger than the subtle digs from the rest of us. Bigger than Katniss adorned in the Mockingjay symbol. A bomb, bigger than anything we have seen or heard tonight. "Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Peeta bitterly, "if it weren't for the baby."
As the bomb explodes, it sends accusations of injustice and barbarism, and cruelty flying out in every direction. A demand for change. For snow to cancel or postpone the games. Katniss is pregnant. Caesar can't rein in the crowd again, not even when the buzzer sounds. Peeta nods his goodbye and comes back to his seat without any more conversation. I am in disbelief. She is pregnant? She is pregnant. Even more of a reason to protect her. But looking at her reaction I cannot tell if it is just a ploy to move the capital. If it is, it is the most brilliant, clever thing I have ever heard. Nothing could stop these games, but that is certainly the closest thing that could.
The anthem blasts, so loud it vibrates through the floor. Desperately attempting to block out the rage of the crowd. We all rise to our feet, and then it happens. Up and down the row of victors, we begin to join hands. Some right away- the morphlings, Finnick and I, and District 3- Others unsure- like Brutus and Enobaria- caught up in the demands of those around them. By the time the anthem plays its last notes, all twenty-four of us stand in one unbroken string, in what must be the first public show of unity among the districts since the Dark Days. You can see the realization of this as the screens begin to pop into blackness. The capital is trying to shut it down. It's too late, though. In the confusion, they didn't cut us off in time. Everyone has seen. There's chaos on the stage now, as the lights go out and we're left to stumble back in the dark. Stumbling, our way back to the training center. Finnick and I remain latched together, not wanting to lose the other in the crowd. Peacekeepers are unleashed, a swarm of them surrounds us. Blocking our way from joining Katniss and Peeta in the elevator.
Complete madness. We finally got onto the elevator. The contrast of deafening noise to now complete silence is huge. I am still holding onto Finnick, I do not want to let go. I don't.
We stay close as we walk onto our floor. We stay close walking over to the fireplace. We stay close waiting for Mags to return. We only separate for Mags.
We each hug her. She gives us the last bit of information we are allowed to know. 3,4,6,7,8, and 11 all know. I don't know what to say. I know we might see her again, but we also might not. I can't put into words what Mags means to me, or what she has done for me. I will miss our dinners together. I can't possibly sum up everything, and I think she knows that. She crinkles at the edge of her eyes, a smile on her face. She urges me to bed in preparation for tomorrow. I know Finnick is far closer to her than me. I give them some time alone together.
I start the long process of taking out the pearls in my hair and the removal of makeup on my face. A few minutes after finishing Finnick walks into my room, closing the door softly behind him. He is already ready for bed. I just want to curl up and go to bed, but I need a question answered.
"You were different today"
"We could die tomorrow Mo. I know we know about our feelings, but I just wanted a day where I could tell you, them. I want us Mo. I want to be together for real. I want to go to bed to your face and wake up to it every day. I want all the 'I love you's. I want to eat every meal together. I want to grow old with you. We are together. We have been together for the last year. But not together. I want to be together before I die, Mo. I want years, but if all I got is today, flirting with you and unashamedly holding your hand, declaring my love for you, and you to me then I will still be happy."
During his speech, he has gradually been striding towards me. He stopped a foot away from me. His brows pinched together in an unasked question. He is waiting for a response. I don't have one for him. I want that too. I want all of that. I don't want to die before I have kissed Finnick. So I do exactly that.
Stepping forward the last foot of space he had left. I cup his cheek in my hand, stroking it with my thumb. My left-hand sneaks around his back. My eyes flickered between his and his lips. I meet him a breath away, my head tilts to the right. I wait for him to close the gap. I don't want to presume. Even after his speech. After his poem. After being a puppet, an object for so long I won't take away his freedom. I wait.
His lips met mine and I could die happy. Knowing how Finnick kisses. Knowing how he tastes. The shape of his lips and mine. I melt into him. Every bit of me is touching every bit of him. He pulls me even tighter to him, leaving no room between us. His right hand ran through my hair. I have been kissed and given plenty of kisses for the last six years of my life. But this kiss with Finnick leaves them all in the dust. He kissed me softly, intimately. Like we had all the time in the world. He worshiped my lips with his, and sung praises with them. I wasn't out of breath, but my heart swelled with the love and care it was shown. Kissing Finnick was an act of love. It wasn't desperate and least not yet. It was not a job to suffer through, it was something to enjoy. Slow, deep, and sensual. Finnick's kisses were a thing to behold.
I don't know how long we kissed. It could have been seconds or an hour. We finally pulled back from each other, only our mouths separating. Bodies still taunt together, Finnick says, "Now that I know what kissing you is like, I don't think I ever want to stop".
"Than don't"
This time I pulled him in completely. Lips crashing together enough to bruise. Parting my lips, allowing his tongue to caress mine. Our hands are moving this time. Clutching and grabbing at each other. We are moving. Stumbling back while still trying to keep him as close as possible. All I can see, all I can feel is Finnick. His scent surrounds me, my heart pounding. The back of my knees hit my bed. I am trying to organize my thoughts, but Finnick keeps distracting me. Biting my lips, stroking my back, pulling my hair. I finally drew back enough. I want to make sure.
My voice is barely a whisper. It cracks. "Finnick, are you sure? Because I want to. But we can stop now"
"I have never been more sure of anything in my life Mo. You and me, remember?", he rests his forehead on mine. Maintaining eye contact.
"Okay that's good", with that I pull him back into me, falling onto the bed. Sinking into each other. I am warm. He is intoxicating. He has his forearms on either side of my head, holding himself up. My legs part and wrap around him, pulling him close. The more we kiss the more I want him.
I end up rolling us over, switching positions. His back resting against the bed, me straddling his waist. My lips pull back from his, trailing down his neck. I leave a path of kisses, sucking bruises in his skin. I want the marks to show. Proof to us that this happened. That is happening now. I tug at his shirt until he pushes me gently up so he can slip it off. I sit and stare at him for a while. Long enough where he asks me what is wrong.
"Nothing. I just like the view. Want to sear it into my brain"
"It's nothing you haven't seen before"
"Yeah, but it's different this time". I am still sitting up, so I take the time to relieve myself of my shirt. Tossing it behind me to deal with tomorrow. Finnick doesn't respond. His hooded eyes are glued to my chest, still encased in my underthings.
At this I tease him back, "It's nothing you haven't seen before"
He rolled his eyes and just pulled me back into a heated kiss. I was stroking every bit of naked skin available to me. He was doing the same. When we pulled back away from each other to breathe, it was his turn to kiss down my neck. A broken question came from his lips, "Mo… Can I…" he was fiddling with the straps. I took it off for him. My top half, bare. He rolls us over. Hovering over me, he grasps my left leg pulling it up to wrap it around him. I stroke the skin under his waistband.
Eventually, we both have no clothing on. We whisper to each other, share moans, and plead for more. And at the end Finnick states once again, "You and me Mo"
We hold each other all night, but eventually, we have to let each other go. Tributes enter the arena alone. Like my last games, the hovercraft comes and it freezes me in place, holding the ladder. Once up, the doctor injects the tracker into my left forearm. It'll hurt getting it out. I make sure to eat enough on the hovercraft. I'll need all the energy I can get to keep Finnick and 12 alive. We reach the launch room. I shower and put two braids into my hair. Tying it back tightly and into knots at the end, making sure no one can grab it. Simple undergarments are given to me, and this year's outfit is a fitted blue jumpsuit, very sheer material, that zippers up the front. A six-inch-wide padded belt covered in shiny purple plastic. A pair of nylon shoes with rubber soles. Not very good in the cold. I hope it isn't like my arena. It will already be hard to be back in one, but if it's similar it will be hard to remain present and not lost in memories. Once on, I made my way over to the plate. I stretched a bit, preparing for it to rise. Preparing for a fight. Preparing to kill. It starts.
The glass retreats and I can feel the breeze. The ground is bright, shining in a familiar way. My feet are wet. Waves are lapping over them. I raise my eyes and I am met with water in every direction. A salty scent.
If there was ever an arena for me, this was it. Perfect.
A/N: I know it's a fade to black with the Finnick x Maria, but I want to keep it tasteful. I might write a more graphic one and post it separately.
Also, it was my first time writing something like that, so how did I do?
Now we're in the arena...