Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games
Chapter 19: Somebody I once knew
Blaine's POV
"Blaine!" Haymitch called out.
I had just finished putting on a blazer dress when Haymitch called my name. It was early in the morning since there was a meeting at the Gamemaker's Headquarters. Haymitch had a tone of utter surprise.
I came out of my room and into the living room to find an Avox was holding a massive bouquet of flowers. Countless flowers of red roses and white lilies. I inhale sharply, having a flash of blood on the snow. I blinked to stare at the flowers, not the arena.
Haymitch was baffled by the massive size. Then again, he only comes to the Capitol for the Hunger Games. He should see the many bouquets I received after doing concerts, promotions, and fashion shows. Most of the time, I donate the bouquets to the hospitals in the children's ward.
"Whose it from?" Haymitch asked bitterly.
The Avox handed me the card. I took a look to see it was from Seneca. As he apologized for leaving me at the banquet.
"From Seneca," I answered.
"Why?" he asked.
"He was my date at the banquet," I explained. "Although, he had to leave early."
"I thought you went with Cinna?" he grumbled.
"No, Cinna kept me company afterward," I answered.
Haymitch was about to say something, then sighed, shaking his head. No doubt Haymitch doesn't like the relationship with Seneca. However, we must play our cards right since our tributes could be targeted again. Seneca went after Katniss in a forest fire. The only reason Peeta hasn't been targeted is that I've been civil and flirtatious with Seneca. I tried to be fair during the Hunger Games. I try not to manipulate the Head Gamemaker.
"Whatever, let's get going," Haymitch said, grabbing my arm.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
.o0o.
"Victors, I'm glad you can make it under short notice at such an early hour," Seneca greeted as he took a seat in front of a long ebony table in the conference room. "As you all know, we are past the final eight, and a feast is in two days."
A murmur spread through the conference room between the victors: Enobaria with Brutus, Porter with Elec, Seeder and Chaff. However, Haymitch and I remain silent. This was the first time for me to be at a Feast conference. Second for Haymitch. We were told that this is where the mentors discuss the gifts to deliver to the tributes, no matter the item's price. Haymitch has been here once, and it was my game.
It was supposed to be more food. However, a tribute stole my bag while Leo and I fought against a mutt. Though Karma can be a bitch as the tribute who stole my bag had to face the mutt. The mutation of the sixty-ninth game was these white apes with a human appearance. Leo called them yetis, and the two we killed were brutal to fight separated. So, we had to team up together until I betrayed him the next day.
"This may be your final chance to give your tribute a gift that could save them," Seneca said. "We'll start with District 2."
"We would like to send Cato and Clove body armor," Brutus announced.
"Very well," Seneca nodded as Plutarch Heavensbee typed this down on his tablet. "District 5?"
"Food and night vision goggles," Porter answered.
Seneca nodded and went to Seeder and Chaff. Chaff took a deep breath, "Send Thresh food and a sickle."
"Understood, District 12?" Seneca asked.
I look at Haymitch, asking him if I can say it. He nodded. "We wish to send medicine. Peeta desperately needs medicine to cure the blood poisoning in his system, restore any blood cells, and heal the wound. That is all we ask."
"That is quite an order," Seneca murmured.
"Well, with the rule change, it's a desperate request," I said seriously.
Seneca smiled sadly and nodded. He announced that the requests are taken in, and no changes will come. If anyone sends a warning of the other tributes' gifts for the Cornucopia, the tribute would be targeted to be killed, and all sponsored funding shall be withdrawn. We all nodded in agreement. However, the look on Enobaria's face said differently. I glared at her as she walked away with Brutus, followed by the others. I have a bad feeling about this. A horrible feeling.
I grabbed my belongings when Seneca stopped me by the door. "Blaine, I personally wanted to apologize about last night."
"It's alright, Seneca," I said calmly. "I understand the obligations you hold as Head Gamemaker."
"Still," he sighed.
I placed a hand on his shoulder, "I appreciate the flowers."
Seneca nodded, smiling until noticing something, "Is something wrong, Blaine?"
I sighed. Yes, something was very wrong. I could hardly sleep while thinking about the kiss I had shared with Cinna. It felt so good yet so bad at the same time. He was my colleague for the games, and his discrete behavior caught me off guard. You know what? I'm actually pissed off. More than I have with Haymitch and Effie combined.
I wanted to talk to Cinna desperately about the kiss last night. Curious about why he kissed me or if it was a drunken kiss. If only I had his number. Unfortunately, the man was a mystery. Everything about him. Not even Effie knew much about him other than she too believed he looked familiar. I had asked her where, but she couldn't put her finger on it, saying, "Oh, it was a fashion show for Chanel."
I tensed when she said that. A fashion show for Chanel Pontmercy. It has been nearly two years since Chanel was my stylist. She did everything for me, even when retiring from the Hunger Games. She designed my clothes for the Capitol and the concerts. She created the Lady of Ashes. She made the persona, the mask that I wear. And yet, we left on bad terms.
"You did this to me. You destroyed me. Get out. I don't want you anymore."
The expression she gave me broke us both. She did not want to leave me. She knew what was happening and helped me through Snow's Game. But I couldn't add her to the list. President Snow became aware of how close Chanel was to me. A second mother figure, that if I don't follow his orders…she could be next. Her husband died long ago, leaving her with three children. So, I lied and sent her away.
On occasion, she would send me an outfit for my birthday.
But I had to make the sacrifice for her family.
Does that mean Cinna knew Chanel?
"Blaine," Seneca called out, breaking my train of thought.
I put on a fake smile. "Sorry. Just tired from last night. President Snow sure knows how to throw a party."
Seneca looked at me for a moment. Seeing the concern in his blue eyes with a slight frown. A moment later, he nodded, offering an arm. "How about I make it up to you with lunch?"
"Seneca, it's only nine in the morning," I murmured.
"How about brunch then," Seneca corrected.
A giggle escaped my lips for Seneca to be a natural in cheering up a confused girl. Thus, I took his arm. He smiled as we walked down the halls towards who knows where for brunch.
.o0o.
Seneca took us to a small café outside the Gamemakers' headquarters where citizens could have experiences and better footage of the games. You practically had to live here to be this close for better seats. Brunch went fine as Seneca told me his plans for the games and how the ratings are skyrocketing with the star-crossed lovers. I just nodded and asked simple questions about the games.
"What about the mutts this year?" I asked. "I haven't seen any other than the Mockingjays."
"Oh, you'll see the mutts soon." Seneca proudly replied. "We're saving them for the big finale."
I nodded, checking my watch to see the time, which was almost ten o'clock. Which means the games are about to begin. Strange that the Capitol doesn't air the game precisely on time. Instead, start at ten and do recaps. Caesar appeared on the screen as he ran through recaps that were recorded last night and this morning. Four screens show the tributes' reactions to the sound of the trumpets. I watch Katniss and Peeta's reactions as they listen to Claudius Templesmiths announcement.
"Attention tributes, attention! Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia. This will be no ordinary occasion. Each of you needs something. Desperately. And we plan to be... generous hosts." Claudius announced.
Another bloodbath. I sighed, taking a sip of my tea and counting ten backwards before the ring from Seneca's earpiece beeped. Seneca sighed, answering the nuisance. His face scowled, murmuring there was a significant problem. I smiled, letting him know it was okay. The Head Gamemaker nodded, paying the bill on the table as he stood up and kissed my cheek.
Once he was gone, I sat there, comprehending my dilemma. I have a decent relationship with Seneca Crane. Yes, the man was thirty years old, but he never treated me like a piece of meat. He respects me. And wants to turn our client relationship into something else. Especially with President Snow insisting I give Seneca a chance. A part of me wondered if Seneca had paid President Snow and was trying to make it seem natural to have me.
Seneca would be a safe choice. He is Capitol. No relations to the districts. Let alone his family is one of the Elite Capitol families. There would be some security. However, it would mean there be more eyes on me. I wouldn't have any solitude. As the mask is permanently chained to my face.
And then there were these complex feelings I had with Cinna. I only knew the man for less than a month. And yet he stirs something inside me. He was different from all the Capitol men. He appeared simple. He shows empathy for the districts. Something about him attracts me. I know I have met him, except I can't remember when or where. He knows me better than I know myself. He prefers my least popular songs. He is considerate of my body. And most of all, he knew about the fireflies.
Do I go for the man who is the safe option to please President Snow? Or do I wait and see where things go with Cinna?
I mentally groaned, scolding myself in this situation.
Cinna is a colleague. It's not professional for you to have interest in him, the voice of reason said.
I sighed; it would be easier if he was gay.
But he's not after kissing me last night.
Shaking my head, I finished my tea before returning to the Bettings. Once there, I found a spot to watch the game. Not many sponsors were in yet. I stared at a screen that showed my tributes in what had been announced.
As I watched their reaction to it.
As suspected, Peeta grabbed Katniss's hand in fear of losing her at the Feast. Katniss tried to persuade him that she wasn't. However, the Girl on Fire was a terrible liar. Anger flushed her cheeks. "All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!"
"I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me, and then I'll be dead for sure," Peeta said.
"You won't get a hundred yards from here on that leg," Katniss countered.
"Then I'll drag myself," Peeta countered back. "You go and I'm going, too."
They are acting like a bunch of stubborn five-year-olds. What does Peeta think he's doing in jeopardizing the situation that Haymitch and I had planned to get those two home safe and sound. If Katniss enters at the right moment, she can grab the bag first, leaving the Cornucopia. It was first come and first serve. Who gets their supplies first makes it out alive. The remaining tributes then enter a second bloodbath. And I know this from experience.
"What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?" Katniss asked desperately.
If I didn't know any better, I might have considered believing she cared for the baker boy. I don't know what it is like to feel a romantic relationship in the arena. For my seven minutes in heaven ended up killing the poor chap.
"I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go," he offered.
If you go into a dictionary and look up the word stalemate, this would be the picture of the definition. Katniss and Peeta argue over who is going to the Feast. It was no use in sending a gift to avoid the idea. It was useless with Peeta being so damn selfless. Katniss, on the other hand, sighed.
"Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me up when I tell you, and eat every bite of soup, no matter how disgusting it is!" Katniss snapped.
"Agreed," Peeta complied.
"What do you say to sleep syrup?" Haymitch asked out of nowhere, startling me that I almost dropped the tablet. I fixed my posture and glared at my father, who gave me an innocent smile. Then he said sleep syrup.
"You want to drug Peeta?" I replied, somewhat dumbfounded.
Haymitch nodded as he sat next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, "It's the only chance we got for Katniss to get the medicine. We wouldn't be in this mess if it were on the supply market. So got any better idea, sweetheart?"
He was right. It was the only choice we had for Katniss to get to the Cornucopia and get the medicine. But I felt like it would be betraying Peeta. It was a deadly risk. One I have experienced led to another tribute stealing my bag and being destroyed by a yeti mutt. I scrolled through the Tribute store, searching for Sleep Syrup. When I found it, it cost five thousand dollars. Giving Haymitch the last chance offer, he nodded, and I clicked buy.
Also left a note saying, "Don't waste an opportunity –B."
I set a precise time to deliver the gift. If I gave it now, Peeta would be suspicious. Around noon, a parachute came when Katniss was working on Peeta's soup. She looked disappointed at the syrup to subdue Peeta but got the message. She mashed up some berries and mint leaves together to hide the sleep syrup flavor in the pot and went back into the cave.
"I've brought you a treat. I found a new batch of berries a little farther downstream." Katniss said as she sat down next to Peeta.
Peeta taking his end of the bargain, grabbed the pot and took the first bite of the soup. He was hesitant at first but complied. I felt guilty for drugging Peeta in the opportunity of saving him. Yet it may kill Katniss. Once swallowed, he frowned. "They're very sweet."
"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?" Katniss lied while poking the next spoonful in his mouth.
"No," Peeta answered, a bit confused. "But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?"
"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild," Katniss confessed, rubbing her neck in the act.
"They're sweet as syrup," he said, taking the last spoonful and ingesting it.
When his eyes widened in realizing what he consumed. Katniss slammed her hand over his mouth and nose, preventing him from spitting or vomiting the sleep syrup. It wasn't long before he lost consciousness. Katniss fell back on her heel and looked at Peeta with mixed emotions.
"Who can't lie, Peeta?" she asked.
"Great, the girl can actually act," I muttered. "Could've used that in the interview."
Haymitch chuckled, "That girl is full of surprises."
"And that is why she is your tribute," I growled, standing up. "Better hope this works, Haymitch. I was saving for an antibiotic for blood poisoning. Otherwise, we won't have a champion."
"Relax, Blaine, everything is under control," he said while swinging his flask.
"I like to see it out of control," I sarcastically replied before finding sponsors.
I talked with many sponsors who wanted to support the Star-Crossed Lovers. The money kept coming in. Though not enough to get blood-poisoning medicine if Katniss failed to get the medicine. I continued to smooth talk my way. Until one famous designer, Moirai, came forward. She traced along the blazer's label. She is a designer by trade and part-time at a university in the fashion industry.
"Such fine stitching," Moirai complimented. "Who is your stylist?"
"Cinna," I smiled. "He has designed all the outfits for this year's Hunger Games."
"Cinna," Moirai paused. "I remember having a student at the University. His name is Cinna as well. Simple, with an obsession with gold trim and experimenting."
I chuckled, "Sounds like we are talking about the same man."
Moirai nodded, "Cinna Pontmercy."
I stopped when she said that.
"Pontmercy," I repeated.
Moirai nodded.
C.P. is his initials for Cinna Pontmercy.
In other words, Cinna is related to Chanel.
.o0o.
Midnight purred in my arms as I scratched his head and petted his spine continuously. He loved being spoiled with the attention of being rubbed or played with until the next meal. Always a good cat and never causes trouble…well, not too much trouble. For curiosity killed the cat. When it comes to Midnight's interest, he stares at the object, analyzes the situation, and decides whether it's worth his time.
"You're such a good kitty," I cooed, hugging the black furball.
Midnight gave a meow and snuggled close into my chest.
"I hate cats," Haymitch announced.
He sat on the couch, feet on the coffee table, while drinking a bottle of wine. I let this slide on the alcohol and went back to playing with Midnight. Grabbing a clipped peacock feather and dangled it by the cat. Midnight was interested and tried to capture the feather.
"Haymitch!" Effie barged into the penthouse desperately. "What have you done?"
"Shoot me," Haymitch grumbled.
I form a gun with my fingers and shot him. Guess Haymitch did something either to piss off Effie or, by rare chance, forgot something on his agenda. My money is on that. He did it on purpose. Haymitch groaned at the stunt while I cackled silently. Father-daughter time is over, and Effie's frenzy has begun. She spoke nonsense, forcing Haymitch to leave the couch and hide in another room.
"Mommy and daddy are fighting again," I murmured to Midnight.
Midnight shrugged and went back to swatting the feather. If you hate cats, the cat would care less about you. I chuckled and relaxed into the cushion. Although, I was still angry with the information I had received from Moirai.
It infuriated me that Chanel would find a way to be part of my life again.
Think of the Devil, and the Devil shall appear, I thought.
As Cinna walked into the apartment. He was in his usual attire, though his neutral face was gone. Instead, he seemed nervous. Let alone cautious since he was entering a killer's apartment.
"What are you doing here, Cinna?" I greeted tiredly.
"…had nothing to do today," Cinna said, taking a seat on the couch.
"Really, is that so?" I replied sarcastically. "Because I can think of a hundred things to do."
"Blaine," Cinna sighed, trying to think about what to say. "About last night…."
"Yes," I said, sitting up properly. "About you kissing me before Haymitch interrupted or the part of ignoring me all day?"
Cinna frowned at my tone, "Have I offended you."
"No, not for the kiss," I assured.
"Blaine," he started reaching for my hand, but I pulled it away. "Is this about what happened last night?"
"We were drunk," I concluded. "If you want to leave it at that, that's fine."
I felt a pang in my chest while my hair covered my face. I don't understand this feeling. Never in my life have I felt this pain. I wish Cinna would say it wasn't just a caught-in-the-moment crap. Then what? My first kiss was kissing a friend who was dying. The second kiss was to trick Leo into lowering his guard. All the other kisses have been false to please others. Never myself. My life has been a game, and becoming strong to face adversaries. To act in front of an entire nation! Building walls around me to keep me safe from the mad world of Panem and the Capitol.
And this lone designer just cracked through them by gaze.
A stylist who is possibly related to Chanel.
"I don't like being used," I confessed quietly. "Nor do I like secrets."
I'm a hypocrite, I thought.
The room was engrossed in silence. Thinking he left out of pity when the couch dipped even more and a pair of arms wrapped around me. My instincts tighten at such gestures to feel close to another being without acting.
"I'm not using you," Cinna murmured. "It's hard to explain."
"Why are you here then," I sighed, trying to get out of his hold.
He let me go and removed the locket he had around his neck. He opened the golden lid and handed it to me. "Because I want to help an old friend. Somebody who I cared about for over ten years. She doesn't remember me. She was my first crush, and I couldn't do anything for her except watch while her world crumbled."
I looked at the two pictures in the locket to see that one picture was a thirteen-year-old Cinna but smeared from being wet, ruining half the picture. Yet I could make out him having fair skin, with copper /maroon hair, green eyes, and ornate clothing. While in the other picture was a ten-year-old girl. She looked more plain than any Capitol child. Her skin was olive, with short straight dark brown hair and gray-blue eyes. She was wearing a blue dress with a white collar. I gasped and looked at Cinna like he was crazy.
I recall during the years I came to the Capitol with Haymitch, Chanel would bring her son over. It was after the tributes were in training. I remember him clearly now. Cinna Pontmercy, Chanel's oldest son. I scowled, standing up that the sudden movement startled Midnight, that he fell off.
"Who the hell are you?" I demanded. "How the hell did you get that picture?"
Cinna stood up and raised his hands. "Blaine, it's me, don't you remember?"
"Did she send you!" I snapped. "Is this her way of controlling me?"
Cinna was confused by my statement. I had to keep the illusion to keep Chanel and her family safe. However, did Chanel send her son in to watch over me? Hasn't she taken the hint that working with me was dangerous? This is why I have constantly changed stylists since letting her go.
"Blaine," he murmured. "She didn't send me. I worked hard to be here."
"Why here? I'm sure she warned you about the strife this job has." I demanded.
Cinna took a deep breath, "She did."
I took a deep breath, "You look nothing like Chanel."
"That's because I have inherited my father's looks. Nor did I turn myself into some plastic." Cinna explained. "I'll tell you anything you told me when we were kids?"
I thought about it, going down memory lane, until a book came to mind. "What was the Magazine you read me on the second night we met?"
"… It wasn't a magazine," He answered with a smile. "It was a book. It was Alice in Wonderlands."
"Unbelievable," I groaned. It seems the past wanted to bite me in the ass this year. First, Katniss reminded me, then Rue's death triggered a memory of Mike's death, and now Cinna was Chanel's son. I sat down and laughed. "Somebody up there has some beef with me. I bet it's Lapis or Leo?"
"Knock, knock," Haymitch said as he and Effie came out with nervous smiles. "Enjoying the reunion?"
I stuck up my hand and gave him the middle finger.
"Took you long enough," Haymitch muttered.
"Oh, shut up!" I snapped before standing up and storming off toward my bedroom.
"Blaine, wait," Cinna called out and grabbed my arm, so my hand made contact with his face. His stumbled back touched his cheek where a hand rested.
"No," I panted. "I'm not going to be fooled around again."
"Blaine," Cinna pleaded.
But I shook my head and ran into my room. Once the door locked, I curled into a ball on the floor and tried to get my emotions under control. The locket was still in my hand to stare at the picture of Cinna and me as kids. How could I forget about him? The first year I came to the Capitol, I could remember everything except him. Well, all the things we did but him in general. Was it because he didn't leave an impression, or did I not like him?
All I know is that he cared about me.
And did he say he had a crush too?
What is with these Capitol men and them crushing on me?"
Cinna is Chanel's son in this story. This a quick reminder that Chanel was the stylist for District 12 for many years, preferring to stay there. When Blaine was reaped, she did everything she could to make Blaine desirable. And so forth after the games. Chanel had her suspicions as she continued to stay for District 12 instead of being promoted. Until Blaine fired her to protect Chanel and her family.
Blaine had to manipulate herself and blamed Chanel for who she had become. Since it was Chanel who taught her how to wear a mask of deception.
Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!
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