The Niece & The Maker - Chapter 2

Power and control. I'm gonna make you fall. You
can't have peace without a war- Marina & the Diamonds

President Renee Lark:

"What is that around your neck, darling?" I ask the little girl in front of me, her blonde hair streaked with pink tied into two braids which hang loosely upon her shoulders.

She looks down at her chest, and her fingers fiddle with the object around her neck. Her eyes meet mine and she bursts into a smile, "Oh, Aunt Renee, all of the girls at school are wearing them!"

"Is that so, Celia?"

Upon her neck is a rope necklace, braided perfectly with nimble fingers. It's held together at the back by a glittering bead, lines similar to those of a braid painted on it. The rope itself is a perfect fit around my niece's neck, tightly fitted yet not uncomfortable-looking.

I recognize it immediately. Just months ago, the entire country of Panem watched a twelve-year old girl, Penelope of District Seven, sport a similar necklace made of rope in the 95th Hunger Games. Of course, Penelope's was fitted incredibly tightly to her neck, slowly choking the life out of her. Not to mention, while Celia's necklace was put on her by herself, Penelope's was forced onto her by Ingrid of District Two, the newest Victor in Hunger Games history.

Celia nods excitedly, "See, my friend Tally, the one with pink hair, do you know her, Auntie?" I nod patiently, smiling despite myself, "Yes, well, Tally's mom toured all the Districts for a business trip thingy, right? And, like, in District Seven, with all the trees and stuff, a lot of people were wearing these. So, her mom brought a few back for Tally, and Tally gave one to me." Celia finishes her story proudly, pointing at her necklace and grinning.

I nod slowly, digesting the story. "Did Tally's mother see any other Districts with that, hm, fashion trend?" I ask nonchalantly, popping a few sugarcubes into a cup of tea then handing it off to my niece.

She takes the cup with both hands, setting it down in front of her as she watches the cubes of sugar melt into the tea. "Not sure," Celia shrugs, giving the tea a quick stir, "I didn't ask."

Our tea-party is interrupted just as I open my mouth to say more. Head Gamemaker Atticus Polo, a charming looking man with perfectly-dyed black hair and surgically-enhanced features, opens the double doors which open with drawn out creaks.

"Miss Celia," Atticus' dark brown eyes dart back and forth between Celia and I, "Your mother is here for you now. She's waiting for you in the lobby. An Avox is waiting outside the door to take you to her."

Celia sighs, standing up from her chair. She swings her white hand bag onto her shoulder, pushing in her chair. "Thanks, Aunt Renee. I love coming over to your house." She walks over to my chair and wraps her skinny arms around me. I return the hug, hesitantly.

"Quickly, now." Atticus chirps.

She rolls her eyes and shuffles towards the Gamemaker. "Good luck with the Games this year, sir," Celia speaks politely, "I'm a big fan of your previous Games. Hope these can live up to 'em!"

He scrunches his waxed brows, saying a barely audible 'thank you' as my niece walks out the doors

It's quiet for a few minutes. I sit with my legs crossed, casually sipping my tea and taking the occasional bite of a crumpet. Atticus stands by the door, looking around my office.

I let out a loud and exasperated sigh, slamming down my teacup onto its saucer. "For the love of all that is holy, Atticus, can't you take a hint?" I hiss, whipping my head around to look at him, "Have a seat already."

Atticus grins, "Sorry, President." He walks swiftly to the table, sitting where Celia once sat. The Gamemaker helps himself to a clean teacup and a crumpet before continuing, "You know, I've got all the Arena plans."

I fold my arms onto the table, nodding for him to go on.

"The tributes will be in the air." He says simply, piling another pastry onto his plate.

"In the air?" I repeat, "How so? Will they be in space? In hovercrafts? Given physical enhancements to be able to fly?" My mind is racing a million thoughts a second, trying to picture flying tributes.

Atticus hesitates before answering, "Not the tributes themselves. More so the arena. We plan on having islands that are hovering in the air. The tributes will be able to get from island to island with—" He stops, a smirk appearing on his face, "—Well, it's truly a bit hard to explain. Perhaps I can interest you in a ride to the Arena, instead?"

I shake my head, waving a hand in the air, "No. I refuse to visit any of the Arenas, as I've told you before. It makes me feel like a tribute." The word 'tribute' brings a foul taste to my mouth, metallic-like and dreadful.

The Gamemaker reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a hologram-receiver. He presses the round button on the base, causing a transparent image to pop up. Atticus adjusts the receiver so I can see the image clearly. "This is the rough-draft, so to speak, of the Arena. I still have a few tweaks to work out."

"Looking interesting enough," I decide, my eyes sweeping over the image, "Just one question. What are those things? The rectangular objects on the Cornucopia on this island?" I point at the said objects, narrowing my eyes at them.

Atticus Polo gives a husky laugh, "Well, President Lark, unless I can persuade you to take the ride to the Arena, I'm afraid the possibilities are all in the air."

A/N:

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! This introduced you to three Capitol citizens who will impact the story rather largely, along with giving you a few hints as to the Arena.

I've received 10 tributes as of 11/28/13. However, keep in mind I haven't accepted or declined any of them; so you still have a chance at getting your tribute into your District of choice (:

Thanks so much for all the positive response so far, and Happy Thanksgiving to all the American readers out there.