Hello!
I hope your new year is going swell! I also hope you have enjoyed the fact that many of the much-loved characters of HG whom SC killed off are alive and well with the Mockinjays in Thirteen! :) More surprises to come! Stay tuned!
Disclaimer: I don't own HG… at all…
My fingers glide across the surface of the cool piece of golden metal in my hand. A mockingjay in flight, grasping an arrow. I've always loved mockingjays; they remind me of my father. When Peeta gave this pin to me, I remember wondering how he knew me so well. I remember the intensity of his gaze. His twinkle in his eyes. The warmth of his lips on mine.
A million years have passed since then. Now, the word "mockingjay" is code for rebellion, war, anti-Capitol efforts, and two young lovers from District 12 who have gone through hell and lived to tell the tale.
I stand and look at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl who stares back at me. My prep team, those responsible for making me look camera-ready, did the most bizzare things to my body to get me to what they all "beauty-base zero." From body scrubs to oils to tweezers to makeup to full-body waxing, they didn't miss a beat. My skin prickles and tingles from the constant irritation of the last couple of hours. I didn't know being a mockingjay was so high-maintenance.
Presently, I find myself in a gray and black mockingjay uniform designed by Cinna. It is more beautiful and comfortable than I could ever have imagined a military garment to be - not to mention elegant. I don't know how he created it so quickly. Apparently, he began working on both Peeta's and my uniform as soon as he got to District 13 and left some of the seams open so that he could make sure they are as close to custom-fit as possible. I wonder how he was so sure both Peeta and I would agree to be the Mockingjays?
"You look great," Cinna remarks as he finishes up the last few stitches. "Just wait till Peeta sees you." He winks at me, teasing.
"Is his like mine?" I ask.
"Of course, you are both the Mockingjays after all," he says.
"Five minutes! We must adhere to the schedule! It's a big, big, big day for our little Mockingjays!" says a pink-headed Effie as she bursts through the door. Boggs follows her in, probably to escort and "oversee" us as Coin commanded. I guess the time has finally come.
Quickly, I fasten my pin to the front of my uniform and follow Boggs outside to where Peeta is waiting with Haymitch. He looks good. I mean, he always looks good, but seeing him in a uniform gives him this aura of authority and strength that I find really appealing.
"How exciting! We are making history today!" exclaims an enthused Effie.
"Yeah, yeah..." says Haymitch grumpily with a wave of dismissal. Effie shoots him a nasty look. "From what I hear you two are good with a bow?" he continues, not acknowledging Effie at all.
"Well, Katniss is the pro. She's been hunting since she was young. I just started learning with her not too long ago," Peeta explains.
"Peeta is actually really great for a beginner," I say.
"Okay, well, Beetee has developed some weapons for you both to use for your Mockingjay duties, so I'll have him meet us in a few minutes, so he can give them to you."
Maybe that means we both get new bows. A wave of excitement washes over me. I wonder if hunting is a possibility here? To think, me and Peeta back out in the woods together... But how can I get these up-tight people to let us, the Mockingjays, go above ground for leisurely hunting? Suddenly, it hits me. Hunting. Gale. Mockingjays. I have to talk to Coin.
"I'll meet you guys there in a few minutes. There's something I have to do," I say as I turn and run back toward the elevator.
"What the hell are you goin' on about?" I hear Haymitch ask with the utmost annoyance, but obviously, I have more important matters to deal with than his moodiness.
In any other district, Haymitch would have a drink in his hand at all times, but here, in Thirteen, drinking is considered wasteful and excessive. Without drinks to numb him to reality, sobriety and withdrawals have put quite a damper on his mood.
"Katniss! Wait!" yells Peeta, as he runs after me. Of course he would. "What are you doing?" He runs up beside me, and we both get into the elevator together.
"I just realized something. We can't be the Mockingjays until we lay a few things on the table before Coin."
"What?! You're kidding me right? We are the Mockigjays. We already said yes!" he says.
"Not until we make the propos. That's what this whole thing is about after all."
We exit the elevator, and I lead the way down the hall to Command. I don't even bother to knock when we get there. Instead, I barge through the door, Peeta at my heels, and find Coin at a table with several others, in the middle of some type of meeting. She looks up and makes eye contact with me and then scans over both me and Peeta as we stand before her in our new attire. She doesn't seem surprised at all with our sudden appearance. In fact, she casually offers us a seat, which I refuse ever-so-politely.
"Before we do this, we need a couple of things in return," I say.
"You mean, besides the privilege of assisting the rebels in the fight against the Capitol?" she asks cooly. Her eyes have left mine and are now focused intently on the many sheets of paper before her.
"Yes, besides that."
"Well, what is it?"
"My friend Gale and his family are trapped in Twelve. I need them here. He will help us fight," I say.
"That's not a simple request, Katniss. A mission like that could cost many lives," she explains.
"I understand. But I have an idea. Do you have any other rebels undercover in Twelve?"
"Of course, but how does that help us?"
"If you can get a message to one of the rebels in Twelve to contact Gale, he can have everyone waiting on the outskirts of the district. He knows how to get out, but he won't risk his family unless he knows they have a chance. If you meet him in the woods with a hovercraft, he will be there," I explain.
She sighs. "What else?"
"Hunting. Peeta and I need clearance to go hunting in the woods above the ground. We will bring any of the meat back to the kitchens for everyone to eat."
"Fine. But you will have to do it during your reflection time. It is not to interfere with your Mockingjay duties."
"Okay. It won't," I say.
"As for the rescue mission, I will attempt to make contact, but if I don't receive confirmation or if he is not in the designated area when the team arrives, the mission will be considered void," she says with a stone cold glare, confirming the seriousness with which she will uphold this condition.
"Fine," I huff, and I turn around, grab Peeta's hand, and walk right back out the door, not even caring about how crazy we must seem to everyone in that room: two love-struck, teenage runaways from District 12, who just interrupted what was surely an important governmental meeting to demand a high-risk rescue mission and permission to go hunting… It sounds ridiculous, but it had to happen before we made any propos. As soon as we comply with their terms, we are without leverage.
"Katniss," Peeta says in a hushed voice, "we need to be more careful."
"What? It's fine. I got what I want, didn't I?" I ask, not understanding his concern.
"I don't trust Coin. There's just something not right about her. Something's off," he explains.
"I don't either, but she's not gonna risk her precious Mockingjays to break our deal," I say. It's true. We are valuable to District 13, and we don't need to worry about Coin as long as that value is present. Peeta is right, though. We should definitely be more cautious around her and her too-cold eyes.
As soon as we walk into the room where we are to begin filming the propos - we knew the room number from the temporary tattoo of our daily schedule which is daily imprinted upon the skin of our forearm - everyone stops and stares at the two of us. I'm assuming they are either annoyed at our tardiness or shocked by our transformation. Regardless, I don't like the attention. My eyes shift from the many gawking and judgmental faces around me to the ceiling, the floor, the walls, anywhere else.
"It's 'bout time you two showed up," says Haymitch, who is sitting alone on the far side of the room with his legs crossed and propped up by another chair. He looks bored out of his mind.
"There are our little Mockingjays! The stars of the show!" Effie calls out enthusiastically, as she ushers us farther in.
At this, the girl from District 7 snorts sarcastically; her eyes roll dramatically; and she shifts her weight impatiently. I try to ignore her, but her scene along with Effie's comment only adds to my embarrassment. I look at Peeta and see that he is just as surprised as I am, but his palms aren't sweating like mine, and his muscles aren't tensed, and he can maintain eye contact with all these crazy people, unlike me. Several of the victors are present along with our Mockingjay team and Boggs. Why are so many people here?
"Alright! Alright! Show's over! I know we are all thrilled to have our Mockingjays prepped and ready to fly," Plutarch pauses to snicker at his own pun, "but it's time to get down to business. You are all here to assist the rebels by making propos that will be aired on television as soon as Beetee gains access into the Capitol's newsfeed."
"Wait. Everyone in this room is doing propos?" Peeta asks.
"Of course. Obviously, you two are the newest interests throughout the districts, but there are several others that have a history with the people of Panem, and those people will want to hear their stories as well," he explains. "As I was saying, these propos will help encourage the rebels to keep fighting, give them hope, keep them up-to-date on our efforts. Today we will focus on our first Mockingjay propo and will be meeting with the rest of you to discuss your... angle for your propos. Feel free to stay and watch the Mockingjays or leave and go about the rest of your day once you have finished your meeting. Alrighty then, Katniss, Peeta, follow me if you will."
We both awkwardly separate ourselves from others and make our way to the "showroom," as Plutarch has so cleverly named it. Basically, it's a green room for us to work in with a huge glass panel that allows the people in the room we just left to watch all the action.
"Okay, first things first. I'll be right back," he says as he walks right back out the door to the "showroom" which we just entered. Peeta and I sit down on the edge of the set and wait.
"This is so strange," he says, looking out of the glass panel. "Those are victors, Katniss. What are they even doing here?"
"No clue... What are we even doing here?" I ask rhetorically.
"You fell in love with a dorky baker is how," he answers with a light chuckle, but his eyes tell a deeper story, one of both pain and sadness, hurt and joy. Although we have had so many beautiful moments together, our decision to be in a relationship hasn't always resulted in rainbows and butterflies. His hand gently caresses the side of my face and plants a soft kiss in between my eyebrows. I smile, but we are interrupted by the arrival of Plutarch followed by Beetee, who is carrying two long, black cases at his side, and some other people I don't recognize, who are carrying a bunch of camera equipment.
"This is Beetee, a victor from District 3. He has prepared some weaponry for you both to utilize as our Mockingjays," Plutarch explains.
They lay the cases out on the ground before us.
"Go ahead," Beetee encourages.
Eagerly, I pop the latches and pry the case open. My eyes scan the sleek, new bow and arrows before me. I'm mesmerized and so excited to use them. I find Peeta's eyes, and he is just as overwhelmed. Suddenly, I can't wait till reflection time.
"Wow! These are incredible!" Peeta says.
"Seriously, beautiful work, Beetee. Thank you," I add.
"Both of these bows are voice activated. You wake them up by simply saying "hello". When you finish, say "goodnight," and it will shut down. They are programmed to learn your shooting forms and styles and will self-regulate string tension and flexibility and other such details as you practice with them. It's difficult to explain, but you'll understand when you start practicing with them," he explains.
"Hello," I speak out loud to test it out. Immediately, vibrations begin circulating throughout the bow. It's like the thing just came alive in my hands. I can't imagine what it'll be like to shoot with it.
Peeta's fascination with the bow is comparable to my own, but he is almost reverent in his admiration of the weapon. Men. I smile inside at the thought.
"As for the arrows, these in the middle are normal, these one the right have fire, and these on the left are explosive," he says as he points out the three different compartments to the sheath.
"Wonderful! Now let's get down to business!" Plutarch exclaims. "This is Cressida and the film crew that will be seeing a lot of you two over the next several months," he says, nodding in the direction of the equipment-carrying people that came in after Beetee. Cressida's two assistants carry shell-like camera gear, kind of like little insects or something.
"Peeta, go ahead and take your position on the set," Plutarch commands. "We want shots of you two separate and also a few with you together. Regardless, you'll both have the same line: 'People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!'" That's all we'll need for today. Nice and easy, to help you get a feel for it all, you know. So, take a minute to get the line down," he says.
A few moments pass where Peeta's lips move but no sound comes out as he memorizes the line. I can tell District 13 is so proud of this single, solitary line. I imagine it going through a committee or something before it is approved. The thought amuses me.
"Ready?" Cressida asks.
"I think so," Peeta replies.
"Okay, I want you to give me the line with a sort of righteous anger. Remember: you are the model of the rebellion," she coaches.
"Got it."
"Take one in three, two, one... Action!"
The next several minutes I watch Peeta, poised atop a rocky stage of ruins - made to resemble the war-ravaged buildings - with a bright, green screen behind him and smoke welling up around him. Although Peeta does beautifully, I can't help but consider the silliness of this whole Mockingjay situation. We are supposed to be encouraging soldiers to fight and die for the rebel cause, but we are deceptively filming within the comforts (as simple as they may be) of District 13.
"Katniss, your turn," Plutarch informs me.
At that moment, I register the butterflies in my stomach, my sweaty palms, and I even feel the color drain from my cheeks. I am horrible at talking. I know it's only one sentence to recite, but the thought of the people watching me and the false front we are putting on for all of Panem makes me nauseous. Before I know what's going on, I am on the set. Smoke swirls around me, thickening the air. Hard to breathe.
"You're angry, remember? Let's make some magic in three, two, one... Action!" Plutarch chants.
It takes me a moment to realize that they are waiting for me to speak. Oh my god. What are my lines? Oh yeah...
"People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!"
"Okay... Well, that's a good start..." Cressida says. "Try to put more feeling behind it. Pretend you are speaking this directly to President Snow... Ready. Action!"
I muster all my anger and beckon it forth from the depths of my soul and recite the line again. I imagine staring Snow down, and I try to portray all the negative emotion I feel toward the Capitol through my body language. In the end, I feel even sillier than before. Like I just took first place for The Ugliest Face in a Rebel Propo award.
"Wow. Just wow," I hear Haymitch say. When did he come in? "That, my friends, is how a rebellion dies..."
"Now, now Haymitch. It wasn't so bad!"
"You're right, Cressida, it was pathetic, is what it was," he says, laughing.
"What's your problem, Haymitch?" Peeta asks defensively.
"Oh, nothing... Just thought I would drop in and see the two lovebirds in action. You know, since the success or failure of our mission depends on this performance, I figured it'd be worth my time... I guess I was wrong," he carries on.
Although his demeaning attitude is uncalled for, he has a point. I don't think my acting skills are going to improve much in the next thirty minutes. While Peeta may be cut out for this kind of thing, I'm not, and that's a problem because we are both Mockingjays.
"It's okay, Peeta. He's right. I suck. I can't do this. I can't pretend like I'm some war-heroine when I'm standing on a pile of fake rocks and suffocating on conjured smoke fumes, while men and women out there are actually fighting and dying for the rebellion. It's not right," I explain.
"The girl has a point, Plutarch... Maybe we could get some good stuff out of the boy, but there is no way in hell that we are gonna get anything worth anything outta the girl like this," he explains.
"Come on! It can't be that bad!?" I defend myself, slightly embarrassed – not to mention peeved. He doesn't need to keep drawing out my humiliation.
"Sweetheart, have you seen yourself?" he asks, looking me up and down. His comment takes me off guard. I know I'm not particularly good-looking or anything, but I didn't think I was so offensive to the eyes. "First off, you look like you should be wearing a bikini rather than a uniform with all that crap coating your face. We aren't trying to entice the rebel soldiers; we are trying to incite them to war. Secondly, you look like a terrified little kid reciting a line for a school play. All we need is a vegetable costume to complete the ensemble," Okay, now he's just being ridiculous. "You don't need green screens and smoke machines. You need a battlefield."