Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games
Chapter 5: Meeting the Stylists
Blaine's POV
The chariots took their place in front of the training center where City Circle was. The flames extinguish from Katniss and Peeta's costumes. Which was a sigh of relief for me. I watched, staring at the balcony where President Snow stood to greet the tributes.
All the monitors showed his face. A face covered with paper-white hair and thick lips that seem pulled across his face. His eyes are similar to a snake's. He wore a dark suit with a single white rose on the lapel. President Coriolanus Snow. The man who has been ruling over Panem for many decades. He gave a gesture to silence the crowd to give his speech.
"Welcome." President Snow greeted, gaining everyone's attention. "Welcome. Tributes, we welcome you."
The audience cheered.
"We salute your courage and your sacrifice."
The audience cheered once more.
"And we wish you…Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor."
I sighed, watching the crowd be ecstatic while the tributes tried to show respect when they were merely lambs for the slaughter. Finnick and Johanna remained silent as the tributes were escorted to the Training Center.
"We better go inside," I advised.
Finnick and Johanna nodded. I smiled reassuringly at Miya before walking over to Haymitch before Chaff dragged him off to who knows where. We also collected Effie before going to the stables in the Training Center.
When we reached our tributes, the stylists with their prep team came over. I stared at the stylist to get a better look at their appearance. Both were dressed in black, yet their styles contrasted with one another.
The woman was dark-skinned and tall and had voluminous short blond hair. She wore a profound amount of makeup around her eyes, pink and black with feather eyelashes, while her lips were painted black. Though her clothes were flamboyant, she wore a patterned black fitted dress with puffy sleeves and black heels.
Meanwhile, the gentleman next to her was the complete opposite. He didn't dress to the Capitol's absurd trends, for he wore a simple black shirt with matching pants. The only thing Capitalistic about him was the golden eyeliner that brought out his green eyes. Followed by four simple gold earrings around each earlobe. He also had short brown hair that hadn't been styled or dyed. He looked normal. He was even attractive, appearing in his mid to late twenties.
But also, there was something familiar about him. As if we have met before. We stared at each other for a moment. In which he gave a smile. There was something about it . . . something that intrigued me.
"We are all anybody's going to be talking about," Effie praised.
"So brave," Haymitch joked.
"Are you sure you should be near an open flame?" Katniss asked.
I tried not to snort, yet the sound could be heard, catching the male stylist's attention.
Haymitch scoffed, "Fake flame? Are you sure you …"
Haymitch stopped as he glanced over Katniss's shoulder. I follow his stare to see the male tribute from District 2 watching us. Cato, as Brutus called him, held a determined look, the look of determination and intimidation. Katniss and the others follow our attention, seeing Cato as he gives a smirk.
Haymitch inhales sharply, "Let's uh… Let's go upstairs."
Effie nodded in agreement, placing her hand on both tributes and leading them toward the elevator.
Haymitch, Katniss, Peeta, and Effie got on the first elevator. I decided to wait with the crew for the second one. For I would like to get to know the stylists better. Although the stylists told their prep team to take the night off and enjoy the festivities. The six people smiled, thanking them before leaving.
"That was nice of you," I said.
"They worked hard as is," the woman said.
"I never got your names," I said.
The woman smiled, "I'm Portia, stylist for Peeta."
I was surprised since female stylists tend to lean towards the female tribute.
"My name is Cinna," the male stylist said. "I'm Katniss's stylist."
The elevator door opened as we got in. I pressed the twelfth button and looked at them.
"Blaine," I introduced myself. "You two did a remarkable job on their costumes. I'm actually quite jealous."
Portia couldn't help but smile while Cinna nodded. As the elevator moved up, I noticed Portia glancing at me. More precisely, the dress.
"The dress looks lovely on you," Portia said. "Cinna, you did an excellent job."
I glanced at Cinna, "You've made this dress."
Cinna nodded, "Along with your wardrobe and new performance costumes."
"Really?" I replied, intrigued. "Are there going to be flames?"
Cinna chuckled, "No. You don't seem like the fiery type."
"Well, she is the Lady of Ashes." Portia reminded.
I frowned slightly from that, though I gave a false smile. Lady of Ashes was a nickname the Capitol gave me. Well, more like Caesar Flickerman gave me during our first interview. My dress was black, and the body paint on my arms had the illusion of ashes. I was a young woman from District 12, where ashes can be found anywhere you step. Ashes were a kind way to call coal dust. I didn't like the title, yet it stuck with me.
"I assure you, Blaine, there won't be ashes on you," Cinna promised. As he gave a small, sincere smile that seemed familiar.
I nodded as I stared at him, "Pardon me for asking, but have we met before."
Cinna gave a smile, "We have."
I paused, trying to remember, "I must apologize, but I don't remember."
"It's alright," Cinna assured.
"And where have you two met?" Portia asked curiously. "Oh, there was the concert we attended."
"I don't think I remember his face in a crowd," I disagreed.
Where have I seen him before? I thought. The name and green eyes were awfully familiar. As I stared at his eyes, seeing golden specks in them.
"Was it at a fashion show?" I asked.
Cinna shook his head, "No, it wasn't."
"Well, where did you two meet?" Portia asked, intrigued.
We both stared at Cinna, who merely shrugged, "I'll let Blaine figure that out."
I chuckled, shaking my head. Someone likes to be mysterious. I smirked, accepting his challenge. I know I have met Cinna before. The question is, where did I meet him.
The elevator reached the penthouse of the training center. Haymitch was already on the couch watching the recaps. Effie and the tributes were absent, probably giving them a floor tour. Cinna and Portia excused themselves to help their tributes change. I walked over to the couch, sitting next to Haymitch. Not long after, Effie came over.
She saw us and started bickering about us, not telling her the plan for the young tributes. But the truth was we didn't have much of a plan. We only saw samples of their capabilities and need to discuss this thoroughly tomorrow. But for now, it was time to celebrate an absolute victory on the chariots. A success in captivating the audience for the first time in four years. Portia and Cinna have done excellent work in giving our District a fantastic introduction.
Haymitch changed the channel as one network was doing a review of each of the mentors for this year's Hunger Games. Haymitch seemed more focused on his drink while Effie and I watched. The segment went a bit longer on Finnick, who was the only Mentor for District 4 since Mags retired at 79 years old. Finnick had been mentoring since he turned sixteen. There were recaps of his games, yet I zoned out for some.
Soon it was District 12, as Haymitch and I came up in our recent photos with the words The Abernathys. As they showed a montage of our victories in the past. A quick clip of Haymitch falling off the stage drunk, and then to me. They played a segment of my recent concert, singing the song "Eyes Open." It was a popular song that fans always enjoyed. There are songs I've sung that I'm surprised that got approved since President Snow checks them to ensure there is no hidden message.
The only rebellious music is one for Capitol teenagers, I thought.
Cinna and Portia soon came out as they sat down. I've noticed Cinna sitting next to me. I glance at him to get a better look at him. I know I met a Cinna before; I just can't put my finger on it. Along with his initials on the label C.P. So much has happened in the last five years that I can't remember him. He wouldn't be a client that Snow arranged since a stylist doesn't make enough money to buy a night. So it can't be that.
It would be a while before Katniss and Peeta came in. We congratulated them and sat down for a friendly chat and some relaxation. Since dinner won't occur for another hour and a half. Though Effie was the one talking.
"It's been very mysterious, though," Effie started. "Because, of course, Blaine and Haymitch haven't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district?"
Not again, I mentally groaned.
She said that to Parsley and Thym, tributes of the Seventieth Hunger games. They were well mannered but not physically fit, but intelligence was there. But when Effie said something similar to that question, Thym snapped and called Effie a cutthroat bitch. However, Effie complimented Katniss, not Peeta. I fear now that she chose Katniss to survive and not Peeta.
I frown at that. Many Escorts and mentors chose one of the tributes from the other. The best of the best. In fact, why can't the games be changed so that one girl and one boy survive the game? Let there be two victors of the opposite sex win. Then, there is a chance a district could have both their children. Or better yet, end the games.
"Everyone has their reservation, naturally. You are from a coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me," I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on the coal, it turns to pearls!'" Effie enthusiastically beams.
As the others applauded for her brilliance, I snorted. It's so Effie, the dyes and makeup have destroyed her brain cells. Though, she's partially right about something. But it wasn't pearls. It was diamonds since my mother Lucy said something like this. 'A diamond is a chunk of coal made good under pressure." Lucy always had her ways of wisdom. When she told me when I was little. tThat District 12 is a diamond in the rough.' The opposite of District one. For as dirty we may seem, we hold a beautiful spirit. That is how we survive, through our hearts and minds.
"Unfortunately, I can't seal the Sponsors deal for you." Effie continued. "Only Blaine and Haymitch can do that, but don't worry. I'll get them to the table at gunpoint if necessary."
She said with full determination that I burst out laughing, "Effie, the only way I place the cards on the table is if you get a better style."
Katniss and Peeta snickered, followed by a hackle by Midnight. Effie's eyes widened in shock, but she didn't say anything. I turned to the young Tributes. "Let's eat. I'm famished."
Everyone nodded as they got up from the couch. Cinna had gotten up and offered me a hand. I was surprised, not expecting that, yet I kindly took his hand as he helped me up. I've noticed his hands felt smoothed, yet certain parts of his joints held callouses. He smiled as he let go and made our way to the dining area.
We all took our seats where food was being served. I glanced at the Avoxes, giving them a nod as a sign of appreciation. They gave a slight bob in return. Haymitch didn't hesitate about the wine offered by a Avox. With the stylist around, Haymitch and Effie were civilized to one another. Since they always say sarcastic or rude remarks to one another. Now they show some decency.
I smiled and took a glass of wine, spinning the red liquid a little before taking a sip of the dry. I wasn't much of a wine person, though I would drink it when paired with the right dish. Katniss and Peeta took their drink, but Cinna warned them to be careful. Haymitch disagrees, gulping down the alcohol. It wasn't long, through our course meals, that Katniss started to look unwell when she changed to water. I chuckled at her exposure to rich alcohol.
It wasn't long before an Avox with red hair came in with a gorgeous cake that lit up. It blazed and flickered like fire in certain areas where they used sparklers. Peeta and Katniss were amazed by the beauty.
"What makes it burn? Is it the alcohol?" Katniss asked the Avox girl. "That's the last thing I wa - Oh! I know you!"
Know her? I thought. How can Katniss know an Avox?
The Stylist, Haymitch, Effie, and I stiffen, watching Katniss cautiously. She must be drunk to mistake the Avox for somebody else. From what I know about Avox, they were people who committed a crime against the Capitol. Usually, Avoxes are Capitol citizens. The punishment was more barbaric than prison. But how is Katniss accused of being associated with this girl? This had the Avox terrified, as she shook her head and left quickly.
"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" Effie snapped. "The very thought."
"What's an Avox?" Katniss asked.
"Someone who committed a crime," I said, serious and emotionless. "And as punishment they are mutilated, so she can't speak."
"She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you know her." Haymitch added.
"And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order." Effie included. "Of course, you don't really know her."
Katniss said something about the wine when Peeta snapped his fingers. "Delly Cartwright."
The cobbler's daughter, I thought.
If I recall correctly, Delly usually hangs around the bakery. If I remember, she and Peeta are childhood friends. But the Avox girl and Delly have nothing in common. As Peeta said, the hair was very similar. But Delly Cartwright had blonde hair, not ginger locks. Again, something is going on with these two. Peeta has been protecting Katniss in certain ways. With Baker's words, the atmosphere cleared up. However, I stared at Peeta. He knows I knew he was lying and that we'll discuss this.
"Something about the eyes, too," Peeta lied again.
"Oh, well. If that's all it is," Cinna sighed in relief. "And yes, the cake has spirit, but the alcohol has burned off. I ordered it, especially in honor of your fiery debut."
We all ate the cake and moved to the living room to watch the replays of the parade being broadcast. I sat down next to Cinna while Midnight sat on my lap. Cinna smiled and started petting Midnight, making the cat purr. This was surprising since Midnight hates Capitol people. He constantly hisses at Effie. The only exception the damn cat has is the district, victors, tributes, and Avoxes. I look at Cinna and wonder if he is even from the Capitol. He only holds a little accent, followed by the golden eyeliner.
Shaking my head, I watch the television as the tributes come out of the Remake Center.
When I asked aloud a particular question, "Whose idea was to hold hands?"
"Cinna's," Portia replied.
"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," Haymitch said. "Very nice."
I stared between Haymitch and Cinna. The rebellion wasn't the right touch. Not after my rebellious behavior when I started as a mentor. And being rebellious cost me Parsley and Thym's life. Along with tributes acknowledging each other. Tributes only hold hands when a twelve-year-old is scared or offers a hand to get on the chariot. After the ceremony footage, the television was off.
"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet us for breakfast, and I'll tell you how I want you to play it," Haymitch said to Katniss and Peeta. "Now get some sleep while the grownups talk."
When the two sixteen-year-olds left, I stared at Haymitch in what his plans were. His deep blue eyes focused on the two tributes. His face was determined as he smirked.
Oh no! I thought.
"Don't even think about it," I said, catching everyone's attention. Haymitch looked at me, not bewildered as the Capitol citizens in the room. "Katniss wouldn't even approve."
"What are you talking about?" Portia asked.
"Haymitch wants something special between Katniss and Peeta, some sort of team bond," I explained, which caused Midnight to hiss.
"Hey, that sounds like a good idea," Haymitch said, scratching his chin for a joke. "And who thinks Tributes should work together?"
I frown at that, "But this is different. Katniss probably won't respond or cooperate if it involves Peeta."
"What makes you think they're not cooperating, Blaine?" Effie asked, needing clarification about what was going on. "They held hands. In fact, they sort of remind me of you and Mike."
I stiffened at how she compared me to my old friend and partner. The bond we shared differed from what I saw between Peeta and Katniss. Michael and I made an agreement to be allies. Except this is different with this year's tributes. Peeta wants an alliance with Katniss, but Katniss. She's determined to win this game and get home, back to her little sister, Primrose.
I didn't know I was shaking, close to tears when somebody wrapped an arm around me. It was Cinna as he handed me a handkerchief. I accepted it, using the handkerchief to dab my eyes and then hugged Midnight. He meowed, worried for me. Effie didn't realize that when others mention Mike, I get sensitive. Just saying or thinking of Mike was hard, so I had to use the name Michael not to feel upset.
Haymitch noticed this and changed the subject:
"So far, we got the people's attention from the Reaping and the Opening Ceremony. Katniss is sure to have sponsors from volunteering for her sister."
"And Peeta?" Portia asked. Haymitch didn't respond to her. Which meant Haymitch had chosen Katniss to mentor. Portia frowned. "Oh, I see."
"Along with Peeta's looks and public performance, caught a little attention," I comment.
Haymitch glared at me and silently said, 'what the hell are you doing?'
I glared back, 'not giving up.'
Haymitch sighed, but Cinna interrupted. "She's right. The two together can get us sponsors. I didn't know holding hands could be a crowd-pleaser."
"True," Effie agreed.
We all debated for another twenty minutes on the game plan. It was getting annoying that Effie, Haymitch, and I were nearly at each other's throats. But Cinna and Portia kept our discussion decent and not a verbal fight. All eyes are on Haymitch, for he makes the final judgment. For the first time, we have difficulty agreeing on something.
"All right . . . All right," Haymitch muttered. "They team up and work together. If they like it or not, until the actual game. Cinna said the other Tributes were glaring at them, holding hands. So together they work. Blaine, you know what it's like with the Tributes glaring at you?"
I nodded. Those from the least favorable Districts get targeted. Worst of my department when Michael and I trained together and the Careers mumbled about me being a victor's daughter. I was offered to be a career if I ditched Mike. But I didn't join the lowest people ever.
"Good, well . . . let's call it a night," Effie said as she stood up and left.
"We should go as well, Cinna," Portia said.
Cinna nodded, and I escorted them out the door. Portia excused herself to use the restroom, so we stood by the door.
"It's an honor to meet you, Miss Abernathy?" Cinna said. "I am a fan of your music. I find them very emotional and true to your feelings."
"Thank you, no one truly understands lyrics since the music drowns out the words," I commented. "Just putting my feelings into words."
"I know what you mean," Cinna scratched his head. "I, too, put my emotion into the work of my designs."
I stared at him with a smile. Not many people healthily express themselves. And meeting Cinna made me feel like someone who wasn't a victor who understood. Tonight, I made a new ally.
"Cinna," I said, catching his attention. "You can call me Blaine."
"Blaine," Cinna repeated, his voice more relaxed.
I smile at that.
I made more significant changes in this chapter than in the original one. Also, Cinna in this story is more Book Cinna than Lenny Kravits version. Kravits Cinna is in his late thirties, while Book Cinna is in his mid-twenties. And Blaine is in her early twenties. I hope you all understand.
Please leave a review, and thanks for reading.