A/N: Personal favorite. Enjoy!

She prays to be sculpted by the sculptor

The Capitol men and women march into the Academy with their funny hair and frivolous clothing and tittering accents and inspect Rhoda and the other eleven year old girls. She isn't just a little innocent girl any more; they've started watching the Games in depth, getting lectures about the blood and the gore and the screams from Estrella and Peridot. The more squeamish girls are already gone, and the herd was thinned ever earlier, back on the days they all applied to enter at ages five to ten. Now these Capitols are inspecting them, and they ask Rhoda and another girl, Glass Harcourt, to come with them. They give them big packets about modeling and when the show up at the first photoshoot, this one not in the Capitol like the others, but in downtown One, just to get them off and running. Glass seems pretty uninterested and asks when they can go back to learning about the different types of swords. Rhoda's eyes are full of light, however, as she flips through the glossy pages of the Capitol brochure, her eyes feasting on the beautiful women and handsome men posing and traveling around the Districts. On the bottom of the brochure, it reads Only Panem's Best! Rhoda knows it's a thing her parents will want her to try, and she wants to try it too.

Rhoda holds the pamphlet close to her chest as she tries to sleep, staring at the ceiling. She squeezes her eyes shut and wishes as hard as she possibly can, wishing upon every glittering star in One's relatively clear night sky. She wishes upon all the gems in her District, upon every glittering knife and sword and arrow in the Academy, upon every different thing she can see in her bedroom from lying down on her plush mattress.

She wants this more than she's ever wanted anything. Well, more than everything except being a Victor and making her parents proud.

The nights are dark and the days even darker. She's back in the Capitol for the Forty Fifth Annual Hunger Games. Of course she had to do some promos, of course she has to Mentor tributes again, of course she has to critique and prep every tribute in the Games for their interviews and chariot rides. Of course she's crumbling inside like her resolve was while she held onto the burning electric board during her secret Resurrection Games. On the outside, however, she grins with her stunning bright white teeth and flashy brown eyes that glint with ferocity and her golden locks that somehow exemplify patriotism. It feels like she's being pulled apart, like she's Inside Rhoda and Outside Rhoda, like they're not the same person and she's two different entities. She's not crazy. She doesn't hear voices in her head. She just feels like she's here and she's there and everything she does isn't what she thinks she should do when she's alone and trying not to cry into her pillow.

It's the third day of the Games and Rhoda is taking some time off to go to a small cafe outside the Control Center for lunch with Pray, Peridot, Careen, and Ava, her core group of Career girlfriends. Rhoda stands up to go to the bar and get another scotch on the rocks. She meets eyes with the new bartender who's just started his shift, his bright blonde locks and startlingly bright icy blue eyes standing out against the darkened interior of the bar. He can't really see what she looks like. His voice is drab as he asks her for what she'd like to drink.

"Scotch," she mutters. "I'm...Raida."

"I'm Kincaid," he murmurs, handing her her drink. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Raida. I bet you look pretty. Here's my number, and call me if you want." He scribbles his phone number on a napkin, folds it up, and hands it to her along with her scotch. Rhoda grins and thanks him before walking back to the table.

"Why are you all so bright and sunny, Hamilton?" Pray barks, sipping at her beer. "You've been looking like Donegal hit you over the head again all day."

Rhoda immediately is alight with a retort, her eyes burning with sudden fervor at the mention of her first dishonorable death. "Why are you drinking, Jager?! You know Rudolph could've gotten you pregnant again," Rhoda purrs, and everyone laughs as Pray sighs and rolls her eyes, discreetly setting down her beer.

"Touche, Hamilton. Touche."

A/N: Hope that was good, I loved writing Pray! XD

I hope you guys are enjoying this, and drop a review if you can. :)

Until Next Time,

Tracee