In A Crowd Of Colors
Effie Trinket stood out from the crowd because she was vibrant.
It might have sounded stupid, perhaps even ridiculous given that the crowd in question consisted of Capitols dressed up to the nines, which meant the crowd on Main Square brought up thoughts of the exotic birds full of colors and soft feathers Haymitch had seen once in a zoo. Capitols always were wrapped up in bright colors that often hurt his eyes and made a cold sweat ran down his spine at the never far memory of the beautiful flowers that had been scattered around his arena.
Yes, Capitols were always adorned in bright dazzling colors that clashed together and made him dizzy and left him yearning for the subdued tints of District Twelve. The sky was mostly grey in Twelve and the buildings were covered in coal dust and everything else was washed out, sad and dirty, but at least it was home and it didn't blind you and left you with your head spinning…
Effie, like her fellow citizens, was always clad in vivid colors that he was one hundred percent certain should never be paired together and these colors assaulted his eyes just like Capitols colors always did and he didn't understand how she could be so different from the rest, why he found her so…
He stood on the fringe of the crowd on Main Street, hands in his pockets, watching her fly from one group of sponsors to the next, watching the flash of her white teeth every time she smiled, watching the hands that never stood still, watching the tilt of her head when she was genuinely amused watching her blue eyes sparkle, watching…
The dress she wore wasn't any brighter than any of the sponsors' clothes, the wig was a pale pink, almost white – an unusual choice for her but he had been informed the fashion was to pastel for wigs that year – the make-up that covered her face wasn't any more outrageous than the other escorts'…
And yet she stood out.
She stood out everywhere.
She would have stood out anywhere.
He had admitted to himself already that he reluctantly – regretfully – liked the colors on her. He liked the crimson red corsets and the lavender bras and the apple green negligees… He liked the way she always laughed and cheerfully put him back in his place with a grin and a wink… He liked how beautiful she looked when she was naked and lying in wait for him… He liked…
He had thought it was the persona he liked.
The clothes, the make-up, the wig, the personality too big for her small frame… Everything he loved to hate, everything he professed to loathe her for…
Now, watching her in that crowd, he was hit by the sudden and unwelcome realization that she didn't attract attention because of any of that…
She was bigger than life.
She was a hurricane.
She was…
Dangerous.
Because when she was nearby, when she made him laugh or forget for a while just who they were, he wasn't yearning for Twelve and his subdued hues. He was too busy enjoying the colors she was slowly painting back into his monochrome life.
He didn't hate her. He didn't loathe her.
He didn't mind being blinded and dazzled and made dizzy by her colors.
Oh, yes, she was dangerous…
And he was a little bit afraid it was too late to go back.