Hello and welcome back to another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'! This installment marks breaking the 50,000 word mark! Breaking 50K was one of the goals I laid out in the stories archived on Fanfiction regarding Foxface and achieves one of the goals I had for this FanFic. Here's to 100,000 words and more in the future!
Please enjoy.
8
Wednesday morning refused to start bright and sunny but remained overcast and gray sprinkling rain on and off. The only bright spot this morning was that my skin looked like the rest of my body, not red and angry. My hair had also regained its former luster, a point that on consideration made me feel slightly vain. Another round of medicine was applied and I stretched out on my bed. Now if only my shoulder would heal up so I could actually run normally.
The house, which I hoped would remain quiet for a couple more hours, did not remain silent for long. Within the hour my mother gathered everyone up for breakfast before setting us to work prepping the house for the stylist's arrival. I don't think that the house was ever in need of serious cleaning, but my mom, being the host she is, wanted everything immaculate. Thankfully we only had to clean the areas that are going to be frequented by the stylists so I didn't have to worry about them discovering my stash of materials in the library-not that they would be easy to find.
"Katherine, since you're feeling better would you mind working on polishing the floors in the front entry with Hugo?" I heard my mother call out as I tried sneaking off to the library.
"Can I take a different job instead?" I asked.
"No. It won't take that long."
I sighed in frustration. Privately, I thought that any more polishing might actually take the finish off the floors. But because I needed to be the obedient child, I held these comments to myself and got the needed supplies to polish the floor. Hugo reluctantly joins me shortly thereafter and makes sure to let me know repeatedly that he's making an extraordinary sacrifice by helping me. soon the front of the house has wood floors that gleam just a little bit more than usual. As soon as I'm done I receive another request to make my room more presentable. I highly doubt they'll be in my room but I agree and spend up until lunch organizing and putting it together. It actually was in need of a little organization so at least I feel like I'm not expending energy needlessly.
My mother makes sandwiches and a tomato soup that we all dig into readily and she consents to the argument that the house looks clean enough. She allows us to do our own thing until the stylist's get here under the condition that we don't create any messes. The moment she's finished I promptly disappear into the library after being told to put something nicer on. I settled for a maroon polo with black pants. Not quite my uniform, but close enough that I can feel like today's a normal day.
I'm wasn't long before I hear the sharp crackle of tires on the gravel outside and a few vehicles stop outside. I run to a window and see grandfather and my father step out of one of the cars and escort a group of brightly colored people to the front doors.
"Time to look fashionable." I mutter to myself. I'm ready for the stylist to do their worst.
I hear a knock at the door and my mother opens it. There's a chorus of greetings and my parents welcome them all inside. I watch from the stairs and observe them quietly.
Aside from the colored birds who zip through the entryway twittering about with their bags of supplies, a man disengages himself from the flock. This must be the stylist. For a moment I wonder if I'm correct. He lacks all of the bright decoration and gaudy style that I would expect to see. His dark complexion is framed by short black hair and the only thing that screams capitol is gold eyeliner which brings out flecks of gold in his brown eyes. For a stylist, he's dressed somewhat normally.
"Marissa, this is Cinna, he's our stylist for this event." my father introduces him.
"Pleased to meet you." Cinna nods and shakes hands. There's something wrong with his voice. I replay it mentally a few times before I realize he lacks a Capitolian accent.
This is not what I've expected at all.
"Welcome to our home away from home." She says with a smile. "Do you need any help with your bags or some water?"
"We'll be fine with our bags. Some water would be nice though. Where is the rest of your family?"
"Around here somewhere." She says. "Shall I round them up?"
He looks up and catches my eye.
"Is that Katherine, Mrs. Emerson?"
She too turns and catches my eye.
"Yes, it is. Katherine, come greet our guests." she beckons.
I walk down the stairs quickly and approach.
"Katherine, it's a pleasure to meet you." He says observing me. I walk forwards and shake hands.
"Likewise."
"You look beautiful. It's going to make my job a lot easier."
This comment is meant to reassure me, calm some anxiety within, but me? Beautiful in my damaged and quasi-burned state?
I'm half-tempted to refute his compliment, but I'm still trying to figure out who and what Cinna is. Somehow I expected him to transform into the freakishly colored and dressed stylist I've seen on TV. This reality hasn't hit yet. I guess my eyes aren't deceiving me.
The three assistants who're still twittering about themselves, suddenly switch their conversation to me making lots of loud whispers and pointing fingers. I tune them out.
"My name is Cinna and I'm going to be your stylist for this event. This shouldn't take very long. The longest part of my job is going to be making the outfits. I was going to start with the others but as long as you're here, are you willing to have your portion done first?"
"Sure." I curtly nod.
"Where would you like to set up shop?" my mother asks.
"A bathroom would be the most convenient."
"Would you prefer to use the master or Katherine's?" my mother asks.
"Whatever works for you."
"Alright! Katie, I hope you cleaned up your room because I'm going to tell them to setup shop in your room. Let me show you the way and I'll get you some water."
"Wait, what? You're letting them take over my room?"
He chuckles.
She ignores me and hums her way to the kitchen.
"It's clean." I mutter mutinously when she's out of earshot. "But could she have warned me ahead of time?"
"I promise we won't disturb a thing." Cinna promises.
She returns with a tray filled with water glasses.
She leads them up to my bathroom adjoined to my room (I'm glad I straightened up earlier) and Cinna gives some instructions to the Prep team and they immediately busy themselves setting up temporary shop in my room.
"Katherine? Can I talk to you now?" He says calling me over.
I oblige and he makes a gesture for his team to not be noisy.
"Before we begin, would you mind answering a couple questions about yourself? I want to get a sense of you before I start the designing process.
"Sure."
He sits me down on a stool in the bathroom. I stare in the mirror for a second before staring back at him.
"So, your father told me you preferred to be called by Finch. Do you want me to call you Finch or Katherine?"
"Whichever one is fine." I respond.
"They're both beautiful names. Can you tell them where they originate from?"
"Katherine was the name of my maternal grandmother. She passed away before I was born. Finch is an abbreviation of my middle name Finchley." I stare at the floor, look up to see he's still intently looking at me. "I'm sorry, I'm not really a people person so I guess I prefer Finch. I only save Katherine for people that I trust. It's a dumb reason I know." I say slightly embarrassed.
"I don't think so." He responds. "I prefer Cinna to my real name."
"And what's that?"
"I'm not in the mood to say. It's a dumb reason." He responds with a gentle smile using my excuse.
Without meaning too, we both laugh and I can feel him breaking down some of my walls that I put up to hide myself and I feel myself being drawn outwards from my shell. In retaliation I decide to put him on the defensive for a second.
"So how did you get picked for this assignment?" I probe cautiously.
"I volunteered." He answers simply.
"What?" I ask taken aback. The answer again is totally unexpected. Who from the Capitol would volunteer to come here? I mean, it's not the outer Districts but it's certainly not District 1 or 2.
"I volunteered to come here." he repeats. "There were plenty of people back home that were eager to come and work their magic but they all wanted to make you 'look' like the Capitol."
The way he inflects this sentence makes me think of an enormous crowd of people all fighting for the chance to make me look beautiful by their standards. The image is slightly disturbing.
"But my job", he continued drawing me back to the present, "is not to make you look good for the Capitol. My job is to make you look good for you, your District, and President Snow."
"You really are brand new aren't you." I say after moment.
"I am. This is to be my first official assignment before I have to design the outfits for District 12 for this year's games."
"I thought Districts were decided after the Reaping."
"It is. But I announced that I was willing to take on 12."
This information brings a flicker of doubt to my mind. As noble as that might have been, District 12 has never really had its share of stunning outfits but I can live without being stunning. I decide that as long as I'm not dressed indecently I'll be fine.
"You're different than the others on TV." I say after a second.
"I know. We must disgust you." He says casting a brief glance at the team busying themselves in my room then at my face. "No matter." He says looking back at my eyes. "There's a quote I live by that goes like this. The designer knows when he has achieved perfection not when there's nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."
"Antoine de Saint-Exupery!" I blurt out so suddenly that it startles him for a moment. Instantly my hand flies up to my mouth moments too late to block the interjection. I'm suddenly mortified.
"Sorry." I apologize suddenly red-faced. "There's a book of quotes to live by in our library and I might have memorized a few of them." I say awkwardly trying to recover. In truth, I had picked up Saint-Exupery from the library in the list of restricted reading material.
Cinna's interest is perked. "Really?" He asks intrigued. "I had no idea." He's thinking something but puts the thought aside.
"So, Finch, can you tell me a little bit about yourself?"
"What do you want to know?" I ask avoiding the question, still mortified at my outburst. I'm still not ready to open myself up to this person from the Capitol, even if he defies all the expectations.
"Well, I want to know who you are. If you were to pick the most important things about you, what should I know?"
I pause for a few seconds thinking about what to say.
"Well, I'm a messenger at the power plants. I just run messages back and forth."
"Is it a hard job?" Cinna asks.
"No. When I started it was. Now the only hard part is the first thirty minutes of running." A silence fills the room. I'm not exactly cooperating but I'm still not really interested in revealing myself to someone.
"And what about school? Do you attend any?" Cinna suggests another conversation.
"I attend a general school with my peers. I study medicine and health during some evenings."
"So you want to be a doctor?" he follows up.
"I don't know. A full-time messenger job doesn't pay nearly enough to support someone, it's not designed to. I've been looking at other things I can do to support myself when I'm an adult. I can do all the technical things that are required at other jobs but I find medicine most interesting."
Another pause. I think Cinna's waiting for me to say a little more but I don't.
"Do you have many friends?" he asks trying to move the conversation along.
"No, just a couple. I'm not well-liked by most of the others."
"Why's that? Everything I've heard about you suggests otherwise."
"My nickname among the others is 'Foxface' and I think that my peers are all jealous of the fact that I have a better situation than all of them. I wish they would just see that I'm not that different from them."
Internally I wince. I haven't meant to open myself that much to him.
"I can understand that." Cinna nods his head and stares at the floor. He seems to know that I've crossed a boundary because he doesn't pursue that topic any further. Privately I wonder whether he's going for sympathy or whether he actually does know (or imagine) what that feels like.
"I know you're probably in agreement with the idea that silence is golden but if you can answer just one more question for me I'll call it good for today. Okay?" He asks.
"Sure."
"Alright. This might be slightly uncomfortable, but how does it feel to be the hero of your District?"
I'm unsure of what to say and I struggle to find words to adequately answer the question.
"I guess I'm honored." I say quietly after a pause that seems to fill eons. "I don't like being the center of attention and I don't feel like I really did anything. I guess it feels good knowing that I saved lives." I stare at the floor and refuse to look higher than the collar on Cinna's shirt.
"Thank you Finch. I think that will be all." Cinna says after a moment. He takes out a sketchpad and scribbles a few things down.
"I'm a pretty terrible person aren't I." I say self-deprecatingly.
He looks up from his sketchpad.
"No, Not at all. Can you trust me for a second?"
I weigh my answer in my hands for a moment. Cinna does seem to be a trustworthy person and so far. He's anything unlike what I've seen in the Capitol.
"Sure." I finally say.
"Finch, I've had the opportunity to know a few people outside the Capitol and, without this sounding weird, you're one of the more intelligent, and selfless people I've had the pleasure of meeting. I really do look forward to completing your outfit for this event. Okay?"
"Thanks." I manage a smile for his sake.
He returns it and stands up. We shake hands and he gestures to the prep team to bring their supplies inside the bathroom.
"I'll get started on your dress tonight but tomorrow we're going to have a busy day. Because the audience does include the Capitol I'll need to do some basic beautification procedures." he concedes, "But I'll just do the basics. That should appease them. Don't worry, I'm not going to turn your skin green or implant you with whiskers." He laughs.
My worry changes to a modicum of relief.
"I apologize. Your bathroom is going to be commandeered for 24 hours but you should have it back soon. I promise that we'll leave your room alone tonight so you can sleep."
"Thank you Cinna."
He nods and I step outside.
Soon my mom enters for Cinna to do his work with her. It must not take a while because I barely make it up the stairs walking towards the library when my mom calls for me to bring Persephone to Cinna. I find her in the lounge downstairs and bring her upstairs. I then make a mad dash for the library to ponder on everything that had happened.
Cinna, the stylist who volunteers for less glamorous assignments. He was probably going to get 12 anyways being the newest stylist. Was he trying to kiss up to someone? I had to respect him for volunteering for District 12 though.
I had always felt bad for this District. Year after year their tributes consistently finished last. They were the lower extreme in all of my statistics and research on previous games. They had only four winners to date, the most recent of which, Haymitch Abernathy, appears more and more disheveled every year when the cameras show him on Reaping Day. It had to have been a pretty poor place to live. The Capitol never said so but there were things that you could see on camera that told a different story like malnourished children, the higher proportion of women to men, blackened fingers from coal. District 12 was a couple places above the Shadow in places I'd like to live.
The only connection our District's really had to each other was the exchange of power. At the end of every year we sent off a train laden with gifts of food, clothing, and other gifts to District 12 as gratitude for giving us the energy to produce our power. We were told that the gifts had been well received but I had always suspected that the gifts never made it to District 12 and instead got swallowed up by the Capitol's greedy gullet. The children never appeared any healthier, the clothes always seemed to be patchy.
I heard Cinna's voice drift in from the stairs as he walked down and I sat for a moment reflecting on how different my experience with him was than what I had imagined it to be before it turned to another question. Just what exactly were those beautification procedures he had mentioned? At least he had good taste in quotes and style. If his designs were anything like I hoped, there would be no fancy frills, exotic colors, or nauseating smells involved. Just good enough to meet the President.
My thoughts changed from Cinna to President Snow. I had only seen the man on TV. He was a short man of 70 or so years with paper-white hair and an intense pair of eyes that seemed almost snake-like. Thin, beady, cold, calculating. He was amicable and wisely worded on television but I had no idea whether that was a façade or not. I suppose I would find out when he met me.
That idea terrified me. Being noticed by the President could never be a good thing. He may not have shown it, but he looked like the kind of person that would always keep track of every new person he met or showed interest. This attention could be beneficial I supposed if one was trying to court the favor of Snow, but I didn't want Snow's favor (I did in the sense of wanting to be guaranteed my life). I wanted to lie low and disappear like I always did. I hoped before we crossed paths that someone would go over etiquette with me before I met him.
I decided that to avoid everyone in the house for the time I might as well do some more running to build myself up again. I was able to sneak into my room grab some clothing more suited to the task, change out of it, and grab my shoes downstairs before running out back.
The day may have been clouded but it was still pretty warm. A brisk breeze helped cool me off and I began running through the woods. There was a bluff beyond the hot spring that I could run to and I began winding my way through the trees. I turned into an exercise in stealth when I observed a deer up ahead of me. There's a small herd that lives within the property limits but they mostly stay far away. The wall keeps out large predators but small ones occasionally get them.
The deer doesn't notice me as I creep along behind it. It pauses at random intervals; sometimes to listen and watch; but mostly it ambles along in the same direction as the bluff. The air grows a little more humid and the wind picks up slightly as I follow it a little more. The noise of the trees rustling helps disguise my presence even more and I can follow even closer behind it.
Eventually I break off my stealth when the forest empties out into a large clearing and the hill I've been climbing slopes downwards to the right. In front, a large rock formation unburied by years of wind and water erosion juts out into the open sky. Below the shattered remains of the earth that covered it fall away steeply away. I sit down on the cool rock and stretch out. Far beyond me on the other side of the valley the mountains are barely visible through a layer of cloud. I can see the Sweetwater, today a murky navy blue, winding its way towards the dam. Far beyond that I can see the western outskirts of Edison.
The wind picks up a little bit more and I can see the tell-tale signs of a thunderstorm brewing far off to the west where the clouds open up and allow billowing pillars of cumulonimbus to form. The rain falling far off will be a welcome change from the District's hot summer days. Below I can already imagine my District's response. The plant's will garrison their workers inside until the storm passes and the power supply will temporarily be drawn from a large array of batteries and wind power. Homeowners and shopkeepers will put out collection barrels and pray that there's a deluge. It's forbidden to collect water but the residents do it anyways through an ingenious array of means. The Peacekeepers themselves participate to have a backup source of water in case their primary supply fails. It's the one rule they don't enforce here. Water is life in a desert.
The clouds move and shadow the sun which has temporarily shone its face and casts the whole area into a brilliant contrast of shadows and light.
"What I wouldn't give for Persephone to see this." I think to myself.
I let down my hair which has been in a short bun and let the wind tangle and untangle it again. In a few minutes I'll get down and head back inside before the storm gets much closer. While I could practice my shelter skills I'd rather avoid getting myself grimy at the moment. My mother will be looking for me again at some point.
I watch the storm until it approaches the other side of the mountains on the western side of Edison far off and begin to trek down again. It takes ten minutes to descend all the way and I step inside the house before the rain picks up again. For once I don't feel the desire to head up to the library and I move to the living room where the fireplace is dimly lit by a gas fire. We do burn wood in there but only in the colder months. I move to a love seat next to a rain spattered window and sit back to watch the storm move in. After a minute, I hear the first few faint thunderclaps from farther off.
I'm glad my father and grandfather won't be on the road for another few hours. The roads leading up here sometimes run the risk of flooding with water which all drains down towards the river. It'll clear up within minutes of the rain ceasing but I'm glad the road doesn't handle very much traffic. As I watch and listen to the sound of the rain I feel touches of sleep coming on. When I do little to discourage it my body decides it needs rest and I'm asleep with my head in my arms.
When I wake up my arms are sore and the rain has ceased.
I look around and rub sleep out of eyes. That's when I become conscious of a weight leaning up against me. I look over to see Persephone who's brought a blanket snuggled up against me. I'm tempted to move but I don't want to disturb her. I end up listening and feeling her lungs expand and contract. Upstairs I hear Cinna and his team working. I suspect they must be talking about the outfits for the males in the family because there's snippets of conversation I discussing cuff-links and bow-ties.
I wish the world could stay this way for ever but I eventually I hear the sounds of a car pulling in the driveway. Moments later my grandfather and father both appear and Persephone stirs. They both catch sight of us and my father mouths a greeting which I respond to with a wave before they both disappear into other rooms.
Eventually my mother comes down stairs and starts on dinner. I smell pork and potatoes after an hour and Persephone eventually wakes.
"Hi Katie." She sleepily yawns.
"Hi yourself."
"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you." Persephone says stretching. "You felt cold so I brought a blanket over. Guess I must have fallen asleep too."
"It's fine. Thank you for keeping me company."
"What's going on?"
"Dad and Mayor are back." I yawned as well. "Mom's started on dinner an hour ago. Should be ready soon."
I hear the clinking of plates being set down and I know the call for dinner will come soon.
"I'm starving." Persephone says after a moment.
"Then let's get you into the dining room." I say taking her hand.
Dinner that night was a richer affair. Pork chops and mashed potatoes covered with a rich gravy and an assortment of fruit that added a lively splash of color to the table. Cinna and his assistants joined us as special guests and were lively company. Hugo and Thomas were enthralled with the description of the Capitol's preparation for this year's games. They didn't know any details about this year's arena (they would know as much as the rest of the population until the games actually began) but they did know that with Seneca Crane in charge for the third year he most likely wouldn't try anything extreme because "it just wasn't his style and he has a reputation to develop." according to Flavius, one of the prep team.
I mainly stayed silent throughout dinner (Cinna was right when he said that I thought silence was golden) and mainly just observed the conversation. I picked up on a lot of little things that were implied like the fact that not everybody in the Capitol partied all the time. There were only three rail lines that lead into the Capitol, attempting to climb the mountains was suicide for the unprepared (one person tried hosting a mountain-top party but the guests had all died in the ascent when an avalanche had killed them all) and that fluorescent hair was the new rage in the Capitol.
Not wanting to participate in discussion anymore I feigned exhaustion until I was given the all-clear to head to bed. My mother informed me that I would be sharing Persephone's room for a time which I agreed to. I went up to her room and found a cot with several blankets already prepared. I decided to go to my room and bring in my flowers. My room was overflowing with reams of fabrics and my gifts had been carefully moved and placed aside. I was pleased to see other than being moved, nobody had touched anything.
I grabbed one of the vases of wildflowers and stepped over a long trail of material that came out of the bathroom and I left it alone. No doubt Cinna and his team would need this room tomorrow and whatever material that was. I didn't mind giving up my room even though we probably could have made room in the house for them.
The flowers added the same sweet smell from my room further down the hall and I knew Persephone would enjoy it. I debated on waiting for her but I knew that could be a while. Persephone was a night owl while I leaned more towards the morning side of things. So I pushed the door closed so that only a crack of electric light illuminated my room and closed my eyes again.
And our favorite stylist representing District 12 has made an appearance. If you guessed right on that point, give yourself a pat on the back. Wondering why? I might touch on that in the next few chapters so keep your eyes peeled.
I hope to be back again soon! If you made it this far, thank you for sticking with me. This chapter was mostly filler, but more exciting things are coming soon.
Yours in writing,
theotherpianist