Dear readers. Wow, it's been a while and I can only apologize for that. There have been numerous things going off in my life recently, exams, drama, sickness etc but I shan't make excuses for not sitting down and getting a chapter up because the time passed since the last update is ridiculous and when I have such wonderful people like you asking for more I can't give you reasons why you aren't getting more. The last review asking me to update was yesterday at the time of writing, then another a couple of days before that, and another, and another… all of these reviews, all 153 of them from start to finish were what got me sat at my desk and writing, so this chapter is for you, for all you Hayffie fans who continue to motivate me and my writing. I can only hope you enjoy this since you have waited long enough for it.
Apparently, my mentor and escort's blossoming relationship is evident to those of all ages. Innocent little Prim declared with excitement that she could see that there was something going on between the two. Of course, conversation turned to me and my own situation with Peeta… of how he could be the pawn used by Snow to break me. After that, everything became routine. Plunged into darkness, light occasionally flicking on and off with continuous rounds of Crazy Cat put in place to keep those lacking moral happy, if only for a few hours. Within the knotting and unknotting of Finnick's fraying rope and the constant need to be a figure of reassurance, time spent observing the weirdly adorable pairing of Haymitch and Effie has been difficult. When I see him he is talking to soldiers about some sort of strategy and when he is away, Effie remains close to Finnick, her bitten nails working away at her own piece of rope. Over… under… through the loop… frantically tying and untying the knot to achieve her only reward of not falling into certain oblivion. We talk sometimes, me and Effie, but it seems she is slowly reverting back to a mute state. She smiles, trying to reassure, but I know the show she is performing. I make a note to mention it to Haymitch, but he is only around at night and he stays with Effie and I'd rather he aid her than answer my questions.
Finally, blissfully, we can leave the confines of the bunkers… but of course, my Mockingjay duties rear their head at the first opportunity possible. Boggs signals for me, I follow the path his beckoning fingers set for me. Gale in turn follows me who is followed by Finnick who is clasping at Effie's hand, her fingers pink from the rope she seems unable to let go of. We walk; we end up at a room unremarkably similar to Command. Coffee is passed around, Haymitch has been holding onto a cup for Effie who daintily takes it from him. Features scrunching up when she consumes the beverage that is too strong for her, still, she continues to drink from it. I think the numerous sugar cubes Finnick handed her greatly improved her caffeine experience.
Back when she was mind-washed ruthlessly by the colorful twisted malevolence of the Capitol, Effie was certainly something else. Never had I seen her blonde locks, they had been restricted from freefall by the repulsive curls of pink, green, gold or even orange wigs that must have cost more than my living expenses in District Twelve. Her clothes had been made from the finest of fabrics that clung to her and her heels were the sorts that were high enough to cause serious injury. In stark contrast, my Effie, Finnick's Effie, Haymitch's Effie… the real Effie… she is more of the simple kind. Preferring to leave her natural hair hanging loosely so she can obscure the painful cuts that remain etched into her porcelain skin. Her body sways without elegance, her usual disposition limp, a far cry from the tottering woman in heels. It seems absurd to imagine her with her face full of makeup these days. When I used to think of Effie all I could see was a superficial façade that was grating to say the list. Now I think of the pain endured, the torture she went through, the scars that remain… deep and crude and twisted into her skin as a grim testimony of the destruction of humanity. Torture she suffered through to keep the rebellion a secret. Now I have nothing but respect for her. That said, she certainly hasn't lost her ability to decorate given the chance, for her silence is my main companion when I prepare to take on the image of the Mockingjay once more. She is preparing my hair whilst the rest of my prep team tries to make me look decent for the cameras.
"It looks great Effie," I tell her as she brings piece upon piece into a camera worthy fashion. In fact, it looks more than great, but I'm not exactly renowned for my compliments so she is stuck with a great and a small, tired smile which she somehow manages to return.
"Thanks," she mumbles, finishing both the job followed swiftly by her coffee. "Drink it, you're going to need it," she tells me when she notices my cup is still full. Like her's, Finnick enhanced my cup with his trademark sugar cubes, so it doesn't take anything else to make me take a sip, starting a gradual build up of buzzing shooting through my body as I get ready to face the camera's once more.
"I… I don't," I begin, not sure which words I want to use, "I'm not sure about this," I finally manage to inform her. Of course I want to do this, get news out that the Mockingjay and District 13 are fine and still totally involved in the Rebellion, but I don't feel like myself. The coffee certainly didn't help this feeling of dread. I remain close to Effie, who is yet to reply to me, as the doors crash open and I am faced with fresh air for the first time in what feels like a long time. With Effie's handiwork, my hair is tied away from the winds, allowing a relaxing breeze to attack my features. Effie however ends up with her hair sticking to whatever piece of her skin it can find. An amusing sight, I can't help but smile at her attempts to clear it from her face.
"You'll be fine," She finally tells me, her voice allows me to believe that I will be but her eyes tell a different story. When she sees me looking she adds a small, "I mean that Katniss," and away from her affected Capitol accent, I can accept that as a sincere statement. I nod, grip her hand for a second, and then stride out to meet the rest of the crew. Almost obediently she follows.
"Effie?"
"Yes?"
"I… Just stay close during this alright?" I ask her, once again fearing the worse and this time unable to shake it away.
"I promise," She tells me. Then I smile and she returns it, the pulling of her lips highlighting the severity of a scar running deep across her chin, and then we walk together, side by side, ready to face the unknown nature of the precarious times ahead that revolve around a single camera capturing my every move in attempts to both intimidate and inspire. Gulping, I can't help but cast a look across at the older woman, who looks back at me and once again tries to make me feel better but her pained look doesn't do my any favors. So I do what she does. I plaster on a smile and opt to simply get the job done instead, no more complaints.
Okay, so I know there isn't much Hayffie in this, but there will be more I promise, I just needed to get the narrative moving once more and get back into the writing style of this story. I hope you enjoyed, reviews are totally appreciated and I love you all!