Chapter 17: Burgundy

"This is a fabulous, fabulous year for District One, Mr. Davidfield. Our two Tributes will simply dazzle you. Much, much better than last year's display. A sordid mark on our otherwise great district. Your money is important to us and I apologize for it being used on such undeserving children. Oh, I just know you will love what we have to offer you tonight!"

I smile, turning my attention to Brilliance. "Does that pretty mouth of hers ever close? She's as bad as Eloquence."

Essence eases her chin into her chest and puts on a demure smile. "My apologizes, Mr. Davidfield," Brilliance speaks, hand on my shoulder. "We're just very excited for this year's Tributes. Right this way."

We walk inside the President's manor, stopping briefly for a photo op. Showcase is in full swing. Reporters are everywhere, stopping anyone they can for an interview. 'Who do you think will win?', 'Did you see her dress? Awful!'. Partygoers of varying importance flock the building, from government officials to leechers vying for their few minutes of fame. At the center of the madness, in a neat line of twenty-four, fresh from their interviews, stand the night's party favors: the Tributes.

Sponsors are already on the prowl, most around The Careers. Mags and Westley have an impressive amount surrounding their two, Viridi and Diana chatting up a handful of prospects. But, as always, District One has stolen the show.

"Excuse us, excuse us," Brilliance tries to push through. The crowd grumbles until they see who has arrived. At once, they part, making a clear line for us to walk. The level of intrigue and envy amuses me.

Brilliance swoops his arm toward tonight's attention. "Mr. Davidfield. Meet Comfort and Burgundy."

Comfort has on a sleeveless canary yellow gown that bundles up at the neck and billows out at the waist. Her blonde waves cascade down to her waist. Jewelry glimmers throughout her look, a large brooch sparkling upon her ample chest. A nod to the latest fashion trend. Her skin is sun-kissed. Body toned and height rather tall for a woman. Nails are blood red. Shoes, from what I can make out from under the dress, are stilettoes. I can smell her perfume from where I stand, a strong, feminine, floral scent. Her smile is blinding. Makeup flawless. Posture a straight line. Gaze determined.

While Comfort's presence, like her interview, is powerful, it is too dominant. She will be noticed, like it or not. With closer inspection, I realize I do not.

Her hair is dyed. Extensions tacky. Spray-on tan. Birthmark splashing her chest poorly hidden by the brooch. Dress color atrocious. Body too built. Perfume gag-inducing. Makeup fit for a whore. She will not age well. Name stupid, even by District One standards.

No, no, no, no, no.

But the boy. Oh the boy! His dishwater blond is far too long for the arena. His suit, though impeccable and a modest color, lays askew on his lanky frame. His height is average, though he seems tiny next to his district partner. Skin a pleasant peach with full lips, rosy cheeks, soft features. Eyes a normal shade of district blue. Smile on, but one front tooth is chipped. Childhood accident? Roughhousing during training? Stance slightly slouched though he hides it well. Hands lay inside his pants pockets. Nerves? Irreverence? Arrogance? The first layer of his facial expression is warm, inviting. But underneath that mask is fear and...disgust.

A work in progress.

This one shall be fun.

I glide towards Burgundy, extending out my hand. "A dance for this old man?"

Comfort gasps. The crowd starts to murmur. Essence babbles something. He hesitates, bushy brows furrow just a fraction before his soft palm touches my gloved one. "Of course."

The boy makes eye contact with Brilliance. The latter shoots his mentee a look and shakes my free hand. "Excellent choice. A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Davidfield."

I chuckle. "Such a hasty swindler Brilliance. We haven't yet entertained each other."

"Your selection will not disappoint. Isn't that right Burgundy?"

He nods his head. "Certainly Mr. Davidfield."

"Call me Faunus. Lovely name by the way. Like fine wine."

"I was named after the color."

We make our way toward the middle of the dance floor. The orchestra plays a slow melody, the strings section dominating the play. We dance in silence. He tries every which way to avoid close contact without being too obvious. Hand in hand, but not too tight. Hips together, but not too close. I bear into his eyes. His look over my shoulder. His smile is gone, a small frown replacing it.

The song ends. He breaks the embrace.

"Where are you going?" I wrap my arm around his waist, pulling in inward as the crowd claps. "We're just getting started."

The orchestra is back again, this time an upbeat pop tune. There are whoops and cheers among the dancing couples.

"Such pleasant foxtrot," I break the ice. "Who taught you that?"

"My mother. Dancer." His frown stays on.

"Must be a lovely woman."

"She is."

I let out a chuckle as we take a turn. "You are a frigid boy you know that?"

"Thank you."

I roll my eyes. Tributes can be so bratty. "Dealt with ungrateful kids before so I'll get right to it: you know who I am. I have sponsored a Tribute from District One for six years straight. Only Essence has returned. Breathtaking beauty, but she is a mouthful. In a good and bad way."

He catches his sneer a second too late.

"Out of six years, only one Tribute has made a return on my investment. I used to just throw money at whichever blonde caught my fancy. Now, I'm a bit more choosy."

We break free, arms extending out then coming together again.

"Here's out it works: Top 8, I talk with your mentors. Top 4, whatever you need and more. Simple."

His face darkens. "And if I win?"

"You are given your life and a spot in my collection."

An audible 'ugh' comes out his sweet mouth. Hands shove me away. "Why do you do this? Why do you buy Tributes?"

His voice is raised. Around us, others look on in mild curiosity. I straighten my bowtie, subduing them with a smile.

"Burgundy," I speak calmly. "None of that."

Brilliance and Essence watch us from afar like hawks in the sky. Burgundy straightens up when he sees the look on Brilliance's face. He eases his slender frame back into my embrace and smiles.

"Before I say yes, I need to know," he speaks through his teeth. "Why do you do this?"

First time a Tribute's asked. Bold. Will take him far in the Games.

"The Hunger Games is a performance. Showcase is a gallery. Tributes are works of art. Some bad," I cock my head towards District Ten. Currently, Juan Miguel is trying to convince a very disinterested socialite to sponsor his two hideous Tributes. The boy fidgets every few seconds and the girl is on the brink of tears.

"Some good," I wink at Burgundy. "The Davidfield family has been in the art collecting business for generations. The Davidfield Museum of Art & Performance was one of the few museums to survive The Dark Days. We've never missed a chance to snatch the latest masterpiece. I'm not going to change that now."

"I would not hurt you if you become mine. Not comfortable with something, tell me. Can't have worry ruining such a pretty portrait," I stroke his face. Surprisingly, he lets me.

"But nothing in life is free. And we all need a few companions in life."

The music has gained speed, the dancing more intense. My old legs keep up with his youth.

"Now, since you love the truth, riddle me this: Why did you volunteer? Surely you knew what was expected of you as Victor. Poor? Moneyhungry parents? Debt to pay off?"

He stiffens at the last comment. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah, Moral Marvel can ask all the questions he want but can't answer why he ran to the stage to kill twenty three children with a smile on his face."

"You don't know a damn thing about me."

"Neither do you, dear eighteen-year-old."

His eyes catch my wedding band. 21-karat gold, diamond encrusted. Straight from the luxury district. "Neither does your wife."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," I smile. "Secrets Burgundy. You'll get used to them."

"I could be your grandson."

"But you're not."

"I don't even like men."

"You'll learn," I pull him into me, crotch in his as I whisper into his ear. His shivering arouse me. "You need me Burgundy. I chose you over Comfort. I can change my my mind. Choose that gaudy trash can over true beauty. Your life is in my hands. You need me."

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. "Y-You'd kill me if I said no? Sabotage my chance in the Games?"

I laugh, a hearty, head-thrown-back laugh. The crowd is too wrapped up in the music to notice. "For Panem's sake boy, I wouldn't waste my contacts on a Tribute. What happens in the Games is up to you kids and the Gamemakers. But a sponsor's gift can mean the difference between victory or death."

He pulls away from me as the song ends and bows. His smile is tight, forced.

His head is down as he speaks. "I won't accept your money."

I wag my finger in his face. "Looking for other sponsors? Most of these commoners don't have an ounce of mica to offer. Besides, sponsorship is decided between mentor and patron, and your mentors seem pretty eager to have me on board."

"I don't need anyone! I'll win on my own." He spits as he speaks. I wipe it away with my handkerchief and chuckle. Tributes are such impassioned beasts. I love it.

I take my hand and push a strand of hair that has fallen in front of his face, making him look more adorable than angry. It is as soft as it looks. "See you soon, Victor Blanchet."

Flinching away, I am given one last glare before he is lost to the crowd.

I hear her before I see her. "I am so sorry for Burgundy's behavior. Whatever he did know that it is not a reflection of-"

I put my hand up, not bothering to make eye contact. "No need, Victor Bernardshaw. A hard head makes a soft behind. District One has my support."

It has been a fantastic show for this year's Games. Set in The Grand Canyon, The Careers put on a marvelous performance, cutting through the competition at record numbers. Tensions were high between the six overachievers, but adolescent egos were put aside for the way of work. True professionals.

But with all good things, it came to an end fourth day in. All that is left now is the slightly injured but dreadfully plain boy from Four, a crazed outlier, and the near death but still beautiful Burgundy Blanchet.

A district partner who is now thankfully dead shoved my boy off a cliff during the alliance break. Rather to save him from a painful death or to cause one we will never know. What we do know is that Burgundy survived thanks to his backpack breaking the fall. But just barely.

I sent the gift the moment the Gamemakers revealed he was still alive. Liquid medicine that would restore his broken bones tremendously. Still require medical attention once he won but would allow him to get the job done.

Military grade. Had to sell one of my greats for it. The wife protested. She couldn't understand. You go the extra mile for the things you desire.

Tears came when he saw the parachute. He had been decidedly ignoring each and every sponsor gift he received, mine and others. Truthfully, he didn't need them (who knew you could make it to the top seven with a kendo stick). But now, with his broken legs and shattered shoulder, he has two options: die a slow, painful death, or take my medicine.

He protests for a very, very long time. Day turns into evening which turns into night. I watch the scene unfold in my studio, finishing up my second portrait of him. "Stubborn, stubborn boy. Pride or victory. Make your choice."

It was amusing. Until District Four caught the outlier.

"Drink the medicine you stupid shit or I'll come there and shove it down your throat my own self."

I hear the wife approach my door. "Faunus? You okay? Your indigestion acting up?"

In what feels like decades, Burgundy makes the painfully slow movements towards the parachute. He pries open the container, downing the medicine in one gulp. He cries the entire time.

I breath a sigh of relief and add the last touch of gold to his hair. "Nothing dear. Everything is okay."


Paul, thank you so much for reviewing The 75 and my other stories. Create an account so I can thank you properly! To answer your recent review, Leopold is Faraday. I will update A Deck of 24 soon. Thank you for reminding me I should cross-reference my works more often.