Cyra Gleams: Victor
The sky is dreary and thick droplets of rain patter against the cold glass of the train window where I lay my head. Watching the tiny rain particles drip against the window and race to edge is all I can do to avoid the guilt I will have to face very soon. As I sit motionless as the train rockets at over an hundred miles an hour, thunder rumbles in the distance and lightning echoes through the vast outdoors. A fitting day for the trials I will have to face, being on my way to District Seven for the first day of my Victory Tour. In my head, I replay those last few moments in the arena that changed me forever. Jasmine, standing proud and strong, her head tilted back in manic laughter. My sudden burst of energy, fueled by emotion, letting the spear fly from my glands and lodging n her stomach. Those last few words from her mouth as she threw the knife, Athena's knife at me, hitting my leg. The cannon and then the trumpets echoing everywhere in Panem. Absent mindedly, my fingers trace the red scar on my calf, a forever reminder of what had happened that day when I won. My stylist had offered to surgically make it invisible, but I denied, knowing that I must keep it.
"Hey Cyra! Come on over and have some cake!" my stylist, Ezra calls over from where he and his new girlfriend and my mentor, Bianca, are sitting.
"No! She can't have cake! We are almost at the District! Oh, what lovely weather we have today..." my pessimistic escort, Herendia snaps, adjusting her grey shark finned dress. I can't stand her. But at least this is her last year, as she's getting bumped up to District Four next year. Maybe they'll appreciate her shark inspired fashion there. But I really do hope that the hex escort is good. I mean what's the worst they could be? Some love-struck guy with a huge crush on me? Uh, nope! In my entire life, I've never had anyone like-like me, so a Capitolite surely won't find me attractive. Not that I care about those things anyways.
As the train seamlessly stops, I step out of the car in my sleeveless navy blue short dress, definitely not suitable for the chilly weather. I cringe as an Avox holds an umbrella over my blonde curls as I walk to the Square. I can't stand being served by Avoxes, I hate that they are made slaves just by having their own opinions. But I've learned that I can't publicly deny them, or else the Avoxes would be killed for not doing their job. I learned that the hard way, making another life gone at my hands.
Walking along the dirt trails along the line of trees surrounding the entire district, I am surrounded by Peacekeepers and my prep team trailing behind me. In my trembling hands are the note cards that Bianca made me, since Herendia is too depressing to make a good speech. Another roll of thunder echoes as I make my way up the stairs to the stage in front of the population of District Seven. A crowd of soot faced people stand surrounding the area in front of me as two families stand on pedestals in front of the pictures of Phan and Jazmine. By Phan's picture is three people, a tall woman, holding a squirming infant boy, tears coming from the mother's eyes. Standing to her right is a girl, maybe thirteen years old, her long chestnut hair wet and stringy in the rain. I cringe at the family in front of the portrait of Jazmine. Standing next to a worn looking blonde woman is a boy, about the same age as the girl on Phan's side. His spiked black hair is glistening and his mouth is turned into a sneer of pure hatred. His fists are clenched and eyebrows furrowed with rage. I do my best not to look at him, as he sort of frightens me, taking after Jazmine.
Gazing down at my cards, I read the words scrawled out in very careful print.
"Good day District Seven!" I try to have as much enthusiasm as I can while reading, "I will never forget those fateful days in the arena where your tributes fought so brave and valiantly. You proved such and asset to Panem by your lumber and..."
I continue reading the speech, the empty words forming with no meaning. Lies! All lies! I can't stand this, but I have to. Every sentence I say is artificial, giving glory to Panem and the president. Thankful when I'm done, the people weakly applaud and I feel like the worst person on Earth. They're turning me into a Capitolite! I can't even imagining doing this in District after District. Not looking back at the sad crowd, I turn and edit into the Justice Building where I'm met by a guy who looks about my age. He is poster Capitol, with his pearly grin and ice blue eyes.
"Hey Cyra! Um, I just wanted to say hi. My name is Blue. Blue Jefferson, and I'm going to be the new escort for District Eight!" he seems so over excited. Can't he tell that I'm not up for a conversation like this?
"Aren't you a little young? How old are you? Fifteen?" I ask, trying to back away.
"Sixteen. Oh, and I thought you should know, I'm your biggest fan! Check out this outfit, I had my stylist design it costume. It was inspired by your interview dress," Blue gestures to his suit, which was red a few moments ago, but has now changed to a shining silver. Color changing, of course. My interview dress was like that.
" Well, um, you look great? I gotta go," I say quickly as I turn on my heel and walk away, quickly boarding the train and not waiting for the Avox. I had always been uncomfortable around Capitolite, but I think Blue will be a whole other level to that. I guess it's time to face the fanboys.
A/N
Surprise! Just a little chapter to add a little glimpse into my current SYOT, Not Alone: the 130th Hunger Games. If you are reading this and are an active reader of Not Alone, review this and Not Alone ending with 'I ship Cyra and Blue!' for sponsor points! In Not Alone, you will see returns of Cyra, Blue, and the two thirteen year olds, Falcon Vierra and Siffa Reska. Thanks and please review!
3 ya!
~Angel