I am so sorry for the absolutely atrocious time its taken to update, I was very busy. I got married and started school again, so its taken a while. Thanks to everyone whos stuck around, because I started this fic as a 16 year old kid, and here I am still reading fanfics and not very improved in my writing, but still wanting to finish this fic that took me a whole decade to wrap up. Bear with me, I am bound and determined to finish this. THANK YOU ALL!
To recap: Italics symbolize a flashback memory, story is main POV Finnick/Katniss, sometimes I have fun and do another POV. Like today, I'm very VERY rusty so itll be a journey to get moving again. Yes, I realize now as an adult that there's some parts of this that have not aged well.
TRIGGER WARNING: This whole chapter is about my take on the life of an Avox, and its not a pretty depiction that I've gathered from the source material. Nothing graphic, but a warning nonetheless
Chapter 34
Clement POV
I was born lucky. That's what my mother said, I was born in the midst of heavy rains, biting winds, the local healer too feeble themselves to brave the rain. There wasn't anyone to call for the healer anyways. My mother was weak and alone, my father away working. My birth was arduous, she said. Yet, I was born hours later, as lightning thundered, screaming the moment I was brought into this world. I was lucky. And I was loud.
It was at the age of five, that I was deemed old enough to assist in providing for the family. My first job was to haul some old scraps and items to the market to sell or trade for thread to mend our clothes. I was told to find the old woman in a gray scarf, she was kinder and would likely trade, but her items were not of high quality. There was a man near her space, he had much nicer things to trade. My father dealt with him, he was harsh and gruff. The man tried to say my items weren't worth anything and grabbed me by the collar shaking me. I yelled and screamed at him until he got irritated enough that he slammed me to the ground and gave me a needle and thread. He was known to deal out hits to those he was irritated by. But, I was lucky. And I was loud.
On that day, after days of running and starving with my brother, we were so close to freedom. We had somehow made it out of our District and we had a chance. I had always been lucky, maybe I could just keep that luck for a bit longer to get us somewhere safe. And the craft came down, the nets dropped, my brother's life stolen from right before me. And when I watched the life drain from his eyes, as they pulled me up into the sky, engines roaring above me; I screamed, and I was loud. I was alive, I was lucky.
When I first lost my tongue, sitting in a concrete cell writhing in agony, I thought it was a fate worse than death. The pain of having my tongue cut out, the ever-growing weight of the loss of my family, I prayed for death. For months, I was so depressed, I felt lifeless. But I was alive, I was lucky. And I was quiet.
Avoxes are left to develop their own communications, with their hands, eyes and body. I was just learning the beginnings of how they spoke to each other, but it wasn't hard to get the implication of the gestures they made. Some of us looked like we had just crawled out of our coffin, and for as nauseating as it was to slop up vomit with my bare hands and a rag of dirty water, it was far better than the alternative. I was lucky. I was alive. I was quiet, but not silenced.
When I was sold to that disgusting bar, where Capitolites where clinging to what little traces of status they had left of, who pissed themselves and passed out in their own vomit, I was just thankful it wasn't prostitution. I was lucky.
Lucky that the bar owners that bought me, were cheap and stupid, they fed me scraps left over from the kitchen. I slept on empty potato sacks and got to wash in the mop bucket once a week. It was then that I learned how lucky I truly was. I was invisible, the owners of the bar didn't pay attention to me unless I was in the way. If I worked hard, kept my head down, and didn't make mistakes, they would just let me exist. I got quick, fast at grabbing dropped coins, slipping them into the makeshift pockets of potato sacks that I stitched into my pants. I was more than lucky, I could make my own luck.
My eyes got sharper, which ones were so drunk they couldn't speak, which ones were rich and oblivious. So when two men, very clearly with expensive clothes and clean hands sauntered in. I noticed. The older one, with a scraggly beard and dirty clothes, splotches of alcohol on his silk shirt. The other, clean, handsome, and when he turned and I saw those eyes, memories of a Hunger Games long past floated to the surface. I didn't know why a Victor was here, but I was not going to lose this opportunity. When Finnick Odair, told me to sit, I was quick, and I would show him why I was lucky.
When he asked me if I wanted to kill Snow, the adrenaline that shot through me and made me shake with anticipation was the most alive I'd ever felt. And when I finally got that pen in my hands, I was certain I knew why I was born lucky. Why no matter how quiet they tried to make me, I would always be loud. I was going to get my voice back, all of our voices, even if my hands were soaked in the blood of the throats I would tear out to get it.
I am lucky. I am loud.
The party is at an old Gamemaker's mansion. He is one of the few that was able to hand off the job to his successor. I'm "Opalette" today, Larhea's Avox that she brings to these events to assist the host's Avoxes. Quiet. An illiterate, quiet, obedient Avox.
The Gamemaker might be retired, but he's most definitely still active politically. Larhea, pulls me towards her, voice dropping low, a thin pink fan slid up my sleeve. "Office, second story, left hall, fourth door, right side, no eyes." She widens her smile, sweeping out into the pathway of people towards the host's wife, a woman with feathers adorning her entire body. "Eytelle! Darling, I believe I left my fan somewhere upstairs when I was looking at your lovely art!"
"Oh, dear. Would you like me to send for it? I don't want you to get lost trying to find it, I get lost in here sometimes." Eytelle wipes some feathers out of her eyes and starts looking over the room for an Avox not serving guests.
Larhea frowns, "oh, but its nearly dinner. All of them are working, I could send mine?" Larhea doesn't turn to look me, rather she snaps her fingers and I step forward, head bowed. "Get my fan. You'll find your way. Make it fast."
I bow and leave before I can hear the end of the conversation. My steps are silent, as the pink fan sweeps along my wrist. It's too easy sometimes, to slide in and out of rooms unseen. I'm silent, easily ignored. And with a small network of Capitol citizens looking to support the rebellion, I can do anything. I make my way past dozens of Avoxes carrying trays and drinks, barely spared a glance by even my own. The staircase is grand, truly, sparkling marble steps with gold wrapped along the staircase.
The second floor opens to a round corridor, splitting off into two directions. I turn left and keep my head tucked down in case there's anyone roaming. Thank God, Larhea already canvassed for cameras in this hall. Saves me about five minutes of fake wandering. Tall paintings hang between velvet curtains and doors adorned in gold details line the entire hall. One, two, three...four. I try the handle and it clicks right open, I drop the fan to my palm and run my fingers along the outer edge until I feel the small indentation to turn on the screening device. Beetee is unbelievably talented. I hear the soft hum of the fan and walk around the room, waiting for the vibration of the fan to tell me if there's any mechanical eyes and ears.
I can guarantee that there are ears, Snow always taps the phones of anyone involved in Capitol politics. He doesn't watch his allies as often though, especially this one. The fan vibrates once by the phone placed on the main desk. I check the corners of the ceiling and along the bookcases, but there's nothing. I pull the drawers of the desk, all locked. I scrape my finger along my scalp and feel the small pin under my bun. Pulling it free, I twist it and the pin expands, another one of Beetee's inventions. After some effort the top drawer clicks open, I browse through the papers, looking for anything about the Quarter Quell. We know the Arena, thanks to Plutarch's position as Head Gamemaker. The problem is, we don't know the special twist. It's not the arena, not this time.
A frown settles onto my lips, I only have two minutes left before I have been in here too long. I try to keep my little missions to five minutes or less during parties, its much less conspicuous. If I go too long, Larhea's assistant, also our fellow rebel will come to scold me and save me from trouble. Nothing for the Quarter Quell. I finger through some more papers and come across a white file, the scent of roses. My heart skips a beat, these are always from Snow, directly. It may be nothing more than a correspondence, but it's worth checking. I flip it open, soaking up the numbers across the page. I look towards the bottom, it's the number of revolts. Snow is looking to replace Head Peacekeepers in a few Districts, including 12. He wants to root out any disloyal men, from top to bottom of Panem. I smile at the news, this is an excellent opportunity to get our own people in.
I shut the file and put everything back in order before locking the drawer up. As it clicks shut, I hear voices echo outside the hall. I cut this one far too close, I could've been caught. How does that look? A supposedly illiterate Avox drinking in the files of a locked drawer. It would probably end in my execution. I shut off the fan and tuck it in my hands for show as well as keep my head down. I open the door and see two men gazing at a painting of President Snow. I slip out and shut the door as they begin to laugh, hiding the click of the handle snapping back to place. I walk past, fan visible in my hands as Larhea's assistant, Helios rounds the corner.
"There you are! Where is the fan?" Helio's deep voice gains the attention of the two men who just now notice my presence.
One of the men laughs, "my God, if you hadn't spoken up that Avox would have terrified me. What's going on? Is it one of mine? Did they steal something?" Redness begins to fill his face as he turns to me, all the ready to strike me with hands and words, unsure if I even work for him or not.
"No, no. I assist a lady at the party, she sent this one here to fetch her fan. As usual, you can't rely on them to do anything with some grace and punctuality." Helios tears the fan out of my hands and snaps his fingers at me. "Follow me. I have something that you can actually do and not mess up. Excuse me, gentlemen."
They oblige us without much of a glance, and Helios waits till we turn to the staircase and dips into a dark alcove filled with flowers. "Find anything good?"
I nod my head and give a wicked grin. Helios smiles back, teeth glinting in the faint light down the hall, "you clever girl. I could kiss you."
Warmth crawls into my cheeks and I'm thankful for the semi-darkness of the alcove. I tap his arm and point to the stairs just behind us. Helios nods, "yes, you'll be serving Larhea till we get back. Then we debrief. Stick to her side to avoid any other suspicion." Helios winks at me before leading me back to the party, Larhea's fan in his hands.
I tuck my head and swallow my grin as the hosts make their rounds, unaware that were stealing from them the entire time we're here. Idiots, every single one of them.
The men from the hallway walk past me without even knowing I'm there.
I am lucky. And despite how silent I seem to be, I am loud.
