As her team ponytailed her hair and dressed her in soft and stretchy dance clothes, the only thought keeping her spirits up was that she'd see Cato in less than 5 hours. It was just a case of counting down the minutes one by one, all while hoping she didn't completely lose her mind in the process.
Some cameras and coloured lights were set up in order to record her while she performed a routine that had been selected for her a few weeks prior by a choreographer from the Capitol. She felt stupid doing it, but apparently these 'talents' were something all victors were meant to have. Something about . . . "relatableness"? Regardless, it eased her whenever she reminded herself that Cato, Katniss, and Peeta would be going through similar pains to her.
She was told to slow down several times while reading out her script, which just rambled on about how important expressing herself through dance was to her, and how she wouldn't be the same without it — none of which was true, dance had to be her least favourite hobby, one she'd been close to quitting even before the games, but since when were the Capitol broadcasting truths?
Her body must've been very tense throughout this time, because the moment she was on the train and able to relax, every muscle from head to toe simply ached. The train rolled away from the District 3 station towards the borders of the districts, since none of the lines ever crossed over to district territory, and for obvious reasons. If not for the awkward route they were required to take, travelling from District 3 to 2 would take a fraction of the time it usually did.
At ease with the knowledge that her personal possessions were safe with Anya somewhere nearby, she made herself comfortable in the dining cart and watched the wilderness roll past the window. District 3 had some thick untouched woodland in many areas, although she'd never realised before just how damaged and polluted the trees were. The further they travelled from the toxin-producing factories, the more vibrant and fuller the forest looked. It was as if the colour was increasing in quality with each passing second.
The food in front of her was just an assortment of appetisers — little cheeses and bites of bread and fish — until Cato and his lot would arrive in the evening. Their lives for the next two weeks at least would follow a very tight schedule, meal times included. They couldn't risk falling hungry with growling stomachs at the wrong times of day.
Wiress took a seat opposite her. She curled her legs up beneath her, probably only because Tiffany wasn't there to see it and make any chiding comment.
"This is already going better than my Victory Tour," Wiress said airily.
Nova hummed in acknowledgement. "Yours must've been terrible."
"They never go to plan." Suddenly the woman was reaching for one of the ornate golden trays in front of them. "This salmon is yummy! Would you like some?"
Nova held her palm out and shook her head. "I can't stomach anything," she responded, a hand resting over her lower abdomen. "Thank you, though."
Wiress simply shrugged and continued to snack in peace. At least she was making the most of the professional chefs while they lasted. Food this fancy was rarely found anywhere outside of the Capitol. Although she supposed they would be back on a yearly basis . . .
"When you won," Nova's eyes were back on the condensation-coated glass, "did Snow say anything to you?"
Wiress snapped to attention and placed the tray of salmon down. "Were you visited?"
Nova nodded. "I agreed to . . ." She gnawed at the inside of her blood-reddened lips. "He wants me to do whatever I'm told, whenever I'm told to. What does that mean? Because . . . I keep thinking about the worst case scenario."
"It's always the worst case scenario," Wiress said. Her tone was no longer light and feather-like — it was grave. "Did you agree to the president's demands?"
Suddenly defensive, she folded her arms over herself and looked away. "He threatened to hurt my family."
"Who did?"
Tiffany's ability to appear out of thin air without making a sound or being summoned in the first place was either a blessing or a curse. Okay, mostly a curse. The woman was somehow everywhere, everyone, and everything, all at once.
"No one," Nova answered dismissively.
"Snow."
Nova shot Wiress with a betrayed look.
"President Snow threatened to hurt your family?" Tiffany sounded so sceptical that it hurt a little. Nova couldn't bring herself to look at her.
"Finnick Odair . . ."
Wiress whispered that name under her breath. The words that left her were so quiet that they could easily be mistaken as a strong breeze outside, or a hiss of a hydraulic pump somewhere beneath them. Nova didn't understand why, or what kind of relevance Finnick could possibly have to her current situation. Did Snow threaten his family too all those years ago? It definitely wasn't outside the realm of possibility.
Tiffany sat down beside Nova. "What did the president say to you?"
"I don't want to do this." She shook her head and stood up. Her escort suddenly had a firm grip of her upper arm, and as proven several times before, she wasn't letting her go anywhere.
Tiffany's eyes had lost their earlier sparkle. "I need to know what President Snow said to you," she insisted.
"It doesn't matter what he said to me!" Nova tore her arm away from Tiffany, ignorant of the ache it sent to her prosthetic. "The point is I'm absolutely fucked beyond help!"
She turned and stormed away, leaving Tiffany rooted to the spot in shock. Her bedroom door slammed closed behind her with a bang that reverberated throughout the train.
Nova showered vigorously, scrubbing at her skin until she was red and raw, combing her nails through her hair until every little smudge of sticky product had been removed. Her dance clothes were lazily discarded on the floor. Someone would pick it up later, but that someone wouldn't be her. She crawled into bed and didn't move again for the next few hours.
Wiress, Anya, and even Beetee had each made respective efforts to coax her out of the confines of her room for food, but she'd declined every time. She had no desire to eat. The only benefit from consuming a meal would be chewing to loosen up her jaw before she could risk grinding her teeth to dust.
Eventually things must've gotten really drastic, because someone slid the door open. She hated the fact that it didn't have a lock.
"Fuck off," she said, rolling over to face the other way.
Cato scoffed a laugh. "Hello would've been fine."
Nova didn't turn her head. The warmth she'd been anticipating upon his return was simply absent. Even as he kicked off his boots to settle on top of the covers beside her, she didn't so much as flinch.
"You missed dinner," he told her. "They've saved some stew for you, whenever you're ready to crawl out of your cave."
As if to emphasise the darkness she'd subjected herself to, he turned on the bedside lamps by waving his hand in front of the switches. It was warm too, stifling really. The air conditioning was turned on with the push of a button on a little touchscreen control panel fixed to the wall above him.
The next person to approach her room at least had the decency to knock, but that didn't matter anyway. Cato shouted for them to come in without even bothering to ask Nova beforehand. At the first whiff of Tiffany's unmistakable perfume, she groaned and let her head hit the plush pillows.
Cato genuinely sounded amused by this reaction. "What did I miss?"
Contrariwise, Tiffany definitely wasn't laughing. "Mr Hadley, could you step outside?"
"Why?" Cato didn't budge. "What is it?"
"He can stay," Nova said nonchalantly.
Tiffany made a small noise of uncertainty. "Girlie, I'm not sure–"
"This concerns him too," Nova replied. "He can stay."
"Would anyone care to explain what's going on?" Cato wasn't that quick to lose his patience, but clearly he could sense something tense and almost hostile in the atmosphere between them, and being excluded from this was bringing out a cold, stern side of him she hadn't seen much of at all since the games.
Tiffany's eyes were transfixed on the low ceiling above them. "No cameras in here," she noted.
"How do you know?" Nova asked.
"I just do," was the only explanation Tiffany provided. "But there's one in the hall, so you'll need to lower your–"
"We'll keep our voices low," Cato said, his tone clipped as if he was desperately holding back the urge to strangle someone. "What's going on?"
This was a tone that usually intimidated most people — hell, it had even worked on the rest of the Career pack in the arena from time to time — but Tiffany was unphased by his sharp tongue. "Snow is pulling a Finnick Odair–"
"I still don't think I know what that means," Nova interjected.
Tiffany sighed deeply and perched herself precariously on the corner of the bed, one leg draped over the other. "Can you guess what happens to attractive victors? Sparkling new teens from the arena," Tiffany remarked sardonically. "There's a lucrative market for them. Finnick is by far the most in demand, hence his rates are astronomical, but Cashmere Veda is in close second. In fact, both herself and her brother."
Nova recognised the name Cashmere. She couldn't remember what district she'd originated from — probably 1 or 2 — but herself and her brother had been the only sibling pair to ever win the games, not to mention the fact that this had occurred in consecutive years. As if already feeling violently repulsed and exposed by even the thought of what Tiffany was heavily insinuating, she tugged the bedsheets up to cover her fully clothed chest and shook her head.
Cato's short laugh was simply unbelieving. "Are you serious?"
"While you're in the Capitol, I'll have you follow a strict itinerary," Tiffany told her. "I'll try to scope out your rates however I can, to give you a better idea of who potential clients may be and who to avoid, but for now . . . You will be notified of every meeting and event beforehand by myself, but it is quite possible that someone will try to speak to you in private, or escort you to another room under the guise of an 'interview' or 'photoshoot', or even just a 'friendly' conversation. If it's not on the schedule I give you, you have to turn around and find me. Don't be fooled by government uniforms and IDs," she said. "We don't live in a world where authority figures can be trusted."
With a frown, Nova shrugged. "How's that supposed to help? If I don't do what I'm told, Snow will–"
"He won't, my dear," Tiffany cut in.
"How do you know that?" Nova snapped. "You know what he did to Haymitch's family."
"For 3 years I was a District 4 escort. I've worked with Finnick," Tiffany explained. "I know these people, and I know their methods. But I can only help you if you work with me. And you have to be careful. I can't walk around holding your hand. You need to watch yourself." Tiffany then turned to Cato. "This applies to you too."
Cato's eyebrows furrowed. "How?"
"Because you're 18, you're handsome, and 80 year old politicians want some of that," Tiffany said dryly. Nova felt a chill down her spine. "They'll use your sister as bait. They'll promise her safety and food in exchange for sexual favours. These promises follow through only a small fraction of the time anyway. Don't be stupid."
The room settled into silence. Goosebumps formed up and down Nova's right arm. She subconsciously drew her legs up towards herself.
"Anything else?" she asked.
Tiffany shook her head. She stood up, a hand cupping each of their cheeks, and pressed a kiss to Nova's hairline followed by Cato's. She left in silence, gently sliding the door closed behind her. Cato looked far too bemused by that outward display of affection to even move, let alone speak.
Nova leaned into Cato's side. They stared into the dim room silently. It was difficult to come up with any suitable words to exchange, anything helpful to bring some ease to their state of shock.
"I take back what I said," Cato drawled, clicking his tongue in an irked fashion. "Peacekeeper duty sounds great. We could both enlist and get assigned to some district town in the ass-end of nowhere."
She couldn't help but laugh a little at his remark, even if it sounded watery and only semi-present. "We'll be okay," she asked, "right?"
He nodded. "We'll be okay."
Even if there was no truth behind his words, curled up in Cato's arms in the safety the silence and darkness provided, she believed him.
District 1 slipped into view suddenly. Once the train had officially crossed the district line and made it safely through an underground tunnel, it reappeared on the surface surrounded by tall concrete structures, like derelict multi-storey buildings and such. The place was littered with factories, but not in the same way her own district was. The air wasn't as murky or toxin-filled. Even from inside, she could already see it, the air as clear as glass itself.
Cato sidled up beside her, biting into a muffin. She took a bite herself when the item was waved under her nose, without tearing her gaze away from the window.
Nova swallowed, the thick cake getting caught in her dry throat. "Blueberry?"
"I don't know." He examined it, his lip curled in nonchalance. "Maybe."
As she watched the window, she quickly realised that singular muffin bite may very well be the only thing she'd be able to eat for breakfast, and unless she could pull her act together without pissing herself, possibly all day. Even the growl of her stomach couldn't tempt her to eat anything else.
The train came to a stop with a small rumble. The blinds over the windows automatically closed. With any daylight concealed, the dining cart's sole source of illumination was the glowing chandelier above them.
"Okay, you two." The sound of rustling paper caught her attention. "Here's a copy of the schedule."
Nova turned her head. Cato was handed two sheets of paper, one of which was given to her. She stared at the colour-coded timetable, rereading the same few sentences several times in order to comprehend them. Her eyes were still watery from lack of sleep, so blinking rapidly was the only way she could at least look alert.
"Try to follow protocol," Tiffany instructed them, "and remember the rules: stick to your scripts where appropriate, remain friendly at all times, and no sneaking off."
"Where would we be sneaking off to?" Nova asked bemusedly.
Tiffany let out a resigned sigh. "I don't know. Those are the Capitol's rules for you two. Don't shoot the messenger."
"Chin up, Cato." Cato's escort, Luciana, was a terrifying woman in every respect. "Nova, that posture is laughable."
Tiffany didn't even try to defend her. "I've been telling her for months now, it's a health risk . . ."
Nova's eyes followed the two outrageously-dressed women out of the train. She couldn't help but question who they were trying to impress, dressing in full Capitol glam complete with outlandish hair and vibrant wigs while visiting the comparatively tamer districts.
The opening of the doors meant that some of the smells of the district began to seep into the train. Factory fumes, melted plastic, and a metallic twinge she couldn't quite place her finger on. It was nearly nauseating, but she knew the air wasn't the only thing to blame for that.
"I don't know if I can do this," she said quietly.
Cato pulled her up to her feet. She put up no resistance, even as he led her towards the open doors and into the dangerous outdoors. "Only one way to find out."
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Author's note: I have written something for virtually every WIP in my docs over the last month, but for some reason I put this off? I think I'm having a hyperfixation crisis. It's that weird feeling of wanting to create content for everything yet nothing at the same time. Slay.