Chapter 18: Valley of the Dolls
"I'm so nervous. I can hardly breathe. Seraphine, darling, be careful with your steps." Emilia rambled on as she floated down the gilded marble stairs with Wells stumbling in front of her as onlookers dressed in jewels and vibrant colors snickered and whispered about him. "Or you'll fall like him." She added disdainfully.
Scarus held up Wells before he fell and dragged him down the stairs. He didn't appear so happy taking care of the drunkard and was only doing so to make sure that Sera and his image was not tainted.
Unlike his usual appearances, he was actually here as a guest as Icarus Redcliff not Scarus the guard. He even dressed up differently much to Sera's surprise. His scarred face was covered with a metal bluish-gray mask that only covered half his face. His usual all-black and dark gray attire was exchanged for a gray two piece suit with a black dress shirt.
Sera didn't say anything to Emilia or comment on Scarus and instead focused on her steps. She was still getting used to wearing high heeled shoes everytime she went anywhere in the Capitol. Every now and then, she would pause and carefully check her surroundings while gripping the skirt of her dress.
The off the shoulders dark blue dress changed colors as she moved like the fabric was one massive oil spill. She didn't hate it and she didn't like it either but she didn't complain since Eos seemed overly pleased with her design meant to commemorate Sera being sixteen. It was her shoes, she didn't like. The dainty high heels were held together by flimsy pieces of strong colored leather which tested her confidence every time she took a step.
If she had a choice, she would have stayed holed up in her apartment or her room on the District 5 floor—she didn't have a choice and had to accept the invitation from some Director whose name she had quickly forgotten the moment she stepped into the ballroom.
What she remembered was how important the guest of honor was.
Emilia and Eos had mentioned his name to her a few times, emphasizing how important and famous he was. Even the President had mentioned the Director's invite and suggested she attend which meant she really had no choice but to accept.
She also needed some sponsors for Zephyr, even though he was adamant about not wanting any. She shot him down on the spot—she needed to keep up her image. At first she agreed but after a quick discussion with Emilia, she changed her mind. Ira's begging for her own sponsors certainly helped as well.
She was confused on why Zephyr didn't want any sponsors, remembering the last conversation the two had before he was sent to the arena. She remembered sitting down with both Ira and Zephyr after they received their scores with Ira scoring a 'Six' and Zephyr, a 'Three'.
Both seemed pleased with their score.
Ira was disappointed at first which was quickly replaced with joy once Zephyr's score was revealed. Zephyr didn't care about his score even when Sera emphasized he might not get any sponsors, to her surprise he said. "This works out well for me. I didn't want any sponsors in the first place." Ira paled hearing him, thinking he had some diabolical plan to win.
"I think we should move on from the scores and talk about predictions for the arena." Sera had to quickly change the subject before Ira started to cry and Zephyr started to lose focus. "Last year—my year, it was bone-chillingly cold and snowy, very snowy. The arena for the Sixty-eight Games was a winter storm prone-abandoned town surrounded by woods teeming with mutts and very few animals to eat. I had to resort to finding odd flowers, winter herbs and sometimes I was lucky to find some snow rabbits and birds to eat."
Ira held her hand up like she was in class and Sera sighed before nodding. "Does that mean there's less chances of a snowy arena?" Sera nodded.
"There's potential few ideas for arenas I've thought about. It could be a normal forest or a snake-filled mangrove swamp." Ira shuddered as Sera spoke. "Or they'll go the opposite of Sixty-eighth and choose to put you all into a blazing desert with nothing around. If that happens, be careful of your environment, try to find water first. If not, find a cactus but remember—you cannot drink from any old cactus, they can be poisonous."
"Wait. The lady at the training center said it was safe to drink from a cactus."
"A particular type of cactus." Zephyr corrected. "Candy barrel cactus or fishhook barrel cactus, those are relatively safe to drink from."
"Even so, drink water from cacti only in emergencies. Your kidneys will be very weak when dehydrated. That being said, also be careful of potential cannibalism if you are dropped into a blazing desert." Sera glanced down at her notes again and continued. "Another potential arena is abandoned cities from the ancient days. There's a few of them on my list, some flooded, some irradiated and some teeming with mutated animals. In case you're dropped into them, consider yourself lucky because you can find a lot of valuable things in some of the crumbling buildings."
Ira held her hand up again and Sera nodded at her. "What kind of things can you find?"
"Weapons, parts, tools, potentially cups and bottles and even matches and lighters—sometimes they work, sometimes they don't. Those abandoned cities also have plenty of mushrooms and plants. I hope you both paid attention to the foraging station because fungi were a big part of that station." She finished going through her notes and shut her journal, looking up at the two with Wells drunkenly stumbling inside. "I have nothing else to say but good luck, sleep with one eye open and I hope to see one of you again."
Those were the last things she said to the two tributes and the last time she saw them face-to-face, now she just watched them on the screen whenever it was time for the mentors to observe.
Zephyr's face flashed onto the large screen which was hung up in the middle of the ballroom. On the screen, he grabbed Ira's hands and pulled her out of a large sandy sinkhole before the two joined their allies.
Like Sera had advised, Zephyr had allied himself with tributes from 12, 11 and 6, being unfortunate to not convince either tributes from 4 or 3 to join him. It ended up working to his advantage since the tributes were dropped into a blazing hot desert, one of Sera's predicted arenas.
The tributes from the lower districts suffered with 4 being the biggest loser of that year. A girl from 4 had managed to stick around to top ten but even she wouldn't last long. Only district 1 and 2 seemed to be faring well for the career districts, if Zephyr played this well, he would easily win.
"How do you feel about your tribute, Zephyr getting only 'Three' for his score?" A woman with feathers in her hair and dressed in jewels approached her as she and Emilia watched the footage from the games.
Another guest followed the woman and approached her. "You must be very concerned." A man with wolf-like features glanced at the screen and back at her.
"Not at all. I fully trust Zephyr and I know that his skills might not have impressed the Gamemakers but they'll be enough for him to stay alive." The small crowd of sponsors nodded around her as they whispered among themselves. "He has a very sharp mind, a good memory along with being skillful at making and fixing things."
"He sounds promising." A man with bright green hair commented, eying her up and down. Carefully, she pulled up her fallen sleeve. "I'll gladly help Zeus."
"Zephyr." Sera corrected, putting some distance between her and the man.
Scarus sensing her discomfort, made himself known and stood in front of her. The man glowered before backing away but not taking back his pledge. For once, she was grateful for his presence.
"Be careful, these people are…vultures." Scarus whispered close to her ears. She quietly acknowledged him, only nodding a thanks before carrying on talking with the small crowd.
Another few stepped forward, three women and two men. Unlike the man before, they didn't eye her, instead they pledged their support for Zephyr and two, surprisingly pledged support for Ira. They hoped to see Sera's face twist into anger. Unfortunately for them, she didn't react and kept a smile on her face.
As she was trying to lose the crowd, the crowd itself dispersed and music faded. A man walked down the stairs and everyone in the ballroom stopped and stared. He wore a black and bright silver suit with long braided black hair.
What caught Sera's attention was not his outfit or his hair or the way he carried himself but the odd white porcelain mask on his face devoid of all expressions. His eerily blank doll-like face moved through the crowd, scanning each of the guests before he met her eye and nodded at her.
He strutted straight towards her and held out his hand. "Director Ennius Walston, the host of this marvelous event and I've met you before at the Victory Ball but unfortunately we didn't get to speak." She took his hand and shook it before letting go.
"Well, it's nice to meet you now and may I say this is a very lovely event." She smiled brightly and subtly turned to Emilia for some introductions but before the escort could speak, another beat her to it.
"Ah, the visionary that is Director Walston has graced us with his presence." Another voice greeted, patting the Director on the back who recoiled at the touch. He didn't seem to like uninitiated touches. "It's good to see you here instead of being holed up in your office or visiting the Palace like you usually do."
The exchange had brought upon the gazes of the other guests as murmurs and whispers filled the ballroom, mixing in with the light orchestral music. However, the moment Director Walston turned to the guests, they all hushed and went back to their previous conversations.
Director Walston turned to the newcomer and stared him down. "Plutarch, my old friend. I see you are well…again. You didn't look so fine when I last saw you yet here you are…alive and healthy." His masked face eerily moved side to side, observing Plutarch who looked healthier than before.
Color had returned to Plutarch's face. He no longer trembled while moving and his pupils were not abnormally large either. It seemed her suggestion for a makeshift antidote worked and he was cured.
"Yes, well, I was visited by an angel and I am well again." Director Walston glanced at Sera when Plutarch spoke. She smiled gently and nodded. "President Snow was generous enough to listen to my requests."
The masked man folded his arms close to his chest and Sera noticed he wore matching white gloves on his hands.
"That's our President, generous and forgiving…" A silvery voice joined in. The entire ballroom seemed to fall into a sudden silence with the unexpected appearance of this man. "Congrats on your second chance." A man with slick back black hair with white roots approached them. His face was smooth, like a doll hiding his age but the way he carried himself and spoke made him sound older than his appearance.
"Minister Janus Thistlewood." Plutarch's face hardened, he plastered on a smile to hide the obvious discomfort he felt towards the newcomer.
Thistlewood.
Where had she heard that name before?
She kept her gaze on the newcomer in front of her and carefully observed her. It was clear he was of great importance as men and women in the ballroom had flocked over to give their greetings to the man.
"Ah, young Redcliff." Minister Thistlewood went over to Scarus and pulled him into an embrace with a fond smile. "I see you're making your family proud."
"Good to see you again, sir." Scarus shook the man's hand and stepped aside. He smiled politely and for once he looked happy in someone else's presence.
But Sera wasn't thinking about Scarus, she was too focused on trying to remember where she had heard the name 'Thistlewood'.
"Nonsense. Is that how you greet your old godfather?"
"I'm still on duty." Scarus chuckled, motioning towards his charge who like always was innocently detached from her surroundings.
Minister Thistlewood nodded. "We should catch up sometime, like times, Heavensbee." He picked up two glasses of champagne, handed one to Sera and another to Plutarch. "We should toast to your miraculous recovery."
Sera handed her glass to Emilia. "I can't drink because of my condition." She apologized to the three men and discreetly glanced around for a way out.
But there was no way out. Everywhere she looked, there were people all around her. She saw some familiar faces like Augustus, Cashmere and her brother along with Haymitch and Wells, the latter of the two were busy making a fool of themselves in the back of the crowd.
Thistlewood.
Where did she hear that name before? She kept thinking while Minister Thistlewood was giving a speech.
"The night on the train back from your victory—you know during our first…adventure." Finnick whispered to her, close to her ear as he walked up behind her.
His voice sent shivers down her back and she shifted where she stood, slightly turning her head to look at him. He smiled brightly at her, placing a glass of clear golden sparkling liquid into her hands.
"Sparkling apple juice." He said, taking his place next to her.
She swirled the drink in her hand and noticed he had his own glass in his hand. "You shouldn't have mentioned that." She mumbled under her breath just quiet enough for the two of them to hear.
It was a little uncomfortable being around Finnick. She didn't know what to say or how to act around him after the meeting with Plutarch. She didn't blame him for being influenced by Plutarch. At the same time, she was a little hurt. It was childish, a part of her thought he approached her because he wanted to and now she wasn't so sure.
"Why? Do you hate spending time with me?" He teased with a light grin and he looked at her with bright eyes, hoping she would deny it.
She decided to play along. "Obviously." She answered with a mischievous grin. "Definitely not the fact that people could be listening to our conversation."
"Ah, I didn't think this through."
"No. No. You didn't."
Letting out a sigh of relief, he moved closer to Sera. For once she wasn't being cold to him in public and he was glad. Yet a nagging feeling in the back of his head told him he was too easily swayed.
While lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the change in Sera's gaze. She wondered when she should let him know she knew of his and Plutarch's dealings. The problem was she didn't want to hurt him. Maybe she had gotten too used to his presence or maybe she didn't want to face the truth and find out he was also an instrument for the rising rebellion.
"I'm surprised you're not hiding today." She found herself saying before she could stop herself.
"I was and then I couldn't."
"Is it the reason I have on my mind?"
He nodded.
The two were pawns of the President yet again. Sera was pressured to attend this ball while Finnick was forced to parade himself around to the guests while both men and women threw themselves at him.
She wouldn't lie and say it didn't disgust her the way everyone went insane over him. It made her skin crawl and she pitied him. She understood why he was always trying to hide but lately he hadn't been hiding much and now it made sense why.
Sera took another glance at Minister Thistlewood. The quiet and stern man had a perpetual glare on his face and at that moment, it was trained on Plutarch. His words to the Head Gamemaker seemed comforting to hear yet she didn't believe he meant it.
"He probably wants Plutarch to drop dead." Finnick commented.
But Sera didn't laugh. After her visit to Plutarch at the clinic, she couldn't help but think every move of his was calculated and he didn't mean anything he was doing or saying.
For some reason, his comment flared up her temper and before she could stop herself, she started to speak. "I guess you would be upset if he died since the Gamemaker and you are so close."
At first she wanted to act like nothing was wrong and just leave. It would be easy and the best option for her, yes, it would be the best option for her not for him. Then again the President did tell her to keep her distance from him. She was torn on what to do.
Finnick had decided to get close to her while she was deep in thought. Her brows were scrunched up as she bit her lower lip. He almost thought she would ruin her lip makeup but she didn't.
"You don't have to do this anymore. I know."
"I'm confused. What are you talking about?"
"Finnick." He didn't like the way she said his name at that moment, quiet and serious. Her eyes were dark and she looked so tired. "He told me everything. He asked you to approach me, didn't he?"
The glass in Finnick's hand started to shake. He paled and stilled, slowly turning his head towards Sera. "Wha—" His face pale and he slowly shook his head in denial. "No. No…" He kept on repeating, reaching out for Sera's hand but she was already pulling away and moving away from him.
He had to stop her before she left and disappeared into the crowd. The chattering crowd was too busy moving around to get a better view of Minister Thistlewood and Plutarch Heavensbee as the two made a joint speech in each other's honor.
Those who weren't part of the crowd joined in a strange dance on the dance floor, looking like a vibrant flock of exotic jeweled birds dancing. Perfect conditions for someone to slip away.
Even Scarus was distracted momentarily—when he noticed Sera was not near him. He panicked, starting to look around before finally he found her near the back but she wasn't alone.
His face hardened and he started to feel agitated after noticing her company. He folded his fists up and was about to make his way through the crowd but he stopped when he noticed the crowds moving around, getting closer to the steps. He lost her and she disappeared into the crowd.
Finnick ran after Sera and grabbed a hold of her hand. "I swear I didn't have any diabolical plans for approaching you—I meant what I said." He began, gently dragging her to a hidden alcove. "Plutarch approached me—yes, I admit he did but he didn't ask me to befriend you or anything. After the whole incident in the elevator, I didn't know how to apologize to you so he—"
"Gave you advice on what to say to me?" She guessed, too tired to argue back and he nodded. "How can I believe that? I ca-can't believe you…"
With each of her words, his face dropped and so did his heart. His grip on her hand loosened a little and he almost let go before he sucked in a breath and let it go. He stood up straight, towering over her. He didn't let go. His loosened grip, tightened as if had been imbued with some strange mysterious confidence.
He leaned closer to Sera. His sea-green eyes bored into her silvery ones. "I promise you. I have never lied to you since the moment I met you—you can doubt me. You have every right to but I swear I never lied to you. I was honest…as honest I can be without hurting you."
The urge to believe him was strong but every time she almost believed him, she could hear the faint voice of Huxley in her head, telling her to not trust anyone. Then she'd look at Finnick with that desperate look on his face.
He had nothing. Nothing to gain and nothing to lose but she had everything to lose. At the same time, she did lose everything. She couldn't connect with anyone. It was then she realized that she was alone.
Even with all the friends and family around her. She was alone. She couldn't confide in them nor could she trust them.
She was alone in a crowd.
Her silvery eyes had darkened and she was a little upset, disappointed with herself and angry at Plutarch for not only manipulating her but also Finnick. He had no idea the soon-to-be former Head Gamemaker had used him to test her which meant one thing, he wasn't on Plutarch's side, yet. Though she had her doubts on Finnick's motives, looking at his face and the way he reacted told her otherwise.
The two were in the end just pawns of the people above.
Letting out a sigh, she wetted her dry lips and nodded. "...I'm sorry. I should've heard you out."
His face brightened and he let out a sigh of relief. "I should've been more honest."
She pulled back and he reluctantly let go. "We both should…" Before Finnick could say anything more, she looked away. "We should head back before anyone notices we're gone."
He wanted to stay in that hidden alcove a few minutes longer—he knew couldn't. President Snow wouldn't be happy once he learned his two prized victors disappeared for most of the night during an important event. Sera would have the most to lose between the two. He didn't want that for her.
Without another word, he led her back to where they were before. The speech was still ongoing and the crowd had grown massively in size. It was a little hard for the two to squeeze back into their place.
Director Walston raised his glass, Minister Thistlewood and Plutarch along with the guests around them followed. "To the miraculous recovery of the Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee! May he continue to be healthy."
With a flourish, one of his assistants raised his mask and he emptied the glass of champagne. Gracefully, he placed the empty glass onto a tray held by an avox painted in gold before turning to Sera who like him and everyone else had emptied her glass.
"I was making a new movie, you see and I think you, Miss Reza would be the most perfect fit." Director Walston nodded at Finnick in greeting and carried on. "I've already got permission from the President and all. I was thinking of you, Augustus Braun or maybe Finnick Odair alongside Calliope Glassheart. You know who Calliope Glassheart is, don't you?" He effectively ignored Plutarch who looked amused at the director's antics instead of being annoyed.
"Of course, she knows who Calliope is. Calliope's only one of the greatest stars of our generation. Who doesn't know her?" Emilia jumped in, saving Sera from answering. She had no idea who this person was and she wanted to leave.
"Thank you, Mrs Merchant." Plutarch quietly thanked Emilia for some reason. Sera was a little surprised to hear Emilia being called 'Mrs', she wasn't aware that the escort was even married. She knew Emilia had children but she wasn't so sure about her being married.
She was even surprised to see the knowing secretive glances traded between the escort and the Gamemaker. How strange, she thought carefully, eying the two in front of her. The two were definitely more than acquaintances.
Director Walston barely acknowledged Emilia with his blank masked face before turning away. If he wasn't wearing the mask, she would've sworn that he was looking at Emilia in disdain.
"Perhaps we can come to a different arrangement for Miss Reza." Minister Thistlewood spoke, his voice was chilling and the way he eyed Sera was even more terrifying. He looked at her like she was a deer and he was a hunter.
A little uncomfortable in the sudden shift, Scarus made his way to Sera but Finnick was quicker. He stood in front of Sera, using himself as a shield.
"Mr Odair. It has been a while. I hardly ever see you." Minister Thistlewood clicked his tongue in annoyance looking down on Finnick. "Not as much as I see the lovely…Cashmere." He put out his strangely pale and metalic blue veiny hand in front of Cashmere, palm up.
Cashmere painted on a smile and strutted towards the Minister. Her heels clicking against the light orchestra music with each click hitting a note perfectly. She placed her gloved hand in the Minister's hand.
Without a word, he took off her glove with one quick motion and placed a chaste kiss on her hand while keeping his gaze on her. Her brother's gaze darkened. His jaws clenched and he looked away while Augustus fidgeted around, looking anywhere but at the scene in front of him. Even Scarus looked visibly uncomfortable at the scene.
It was all too much for everyone. Yet not everyone felt uncomfortable by the scene, some leaned closer to get a better look and some even whispered some strange things about the pair.
Strange things Sera didn't want to know or hear about.
Sera's head was spinning and she felt it became harder to breathe. Her chest started to ache. She felt bile rising in her throat and the urge to throw up was getting stronger. It was nauseating seeing the pair in front of her. She wanted to leave but she couldn't as it was now clear to her; Minister Thistlewood was the reason for her attendance at Director Walston's ball.
Minister Thistlewood let go of Cashmere and turned his gaze on her instead. "Cashmere, how old were you when you first started your generous work?" He spoke, not taking his eyes off of her.
Cashmere swallowed nervously. Her lips trembling yet the smile on her face stayed intact as if it was welded on. "Sixteen." She croaked out. "It was straight after my…Victory Ball." She almost looked as if she was about to cry.
"Correct. I remember that day well. May I say you looked exquisite in that pale gold satin piece."
The victor from District 1 nervously giggled. Though her inner thoughts were very different. She charmingly winked at the old Minister while Director Walston caressed her arm. Her brother excused himself and left while Augustus stayed behind.
Finnick gently pulled Sera back towards the edge of the crowd. His hands were cold and damp with sweat. He looked sickly as his eyes darted left and right like he was stuck in a nightmare. He wanted to take Sera and run but the girl he was so worried about looked confused about it all.
Minister Thistlewood slowly turned his gaze on Sera and she dropped Finnick's hand. "I heard you celebrated your birthday recently."
Sera flashed a bright innocent smile at the Minister, still ignorant to his true intentions. "I did." She answered hesitantly. "I'm…sixteen now."
"A perfect age. Sweet sixteen…happy birthday." The way he spoke made her skin crawl. It was like thousands of spiders were climbing up her skin with each word spoken by that man. She tried hard to not let her true feelings show.
"Thank you." She didn't know what else to say.
"Would you be interested in serving Pan—"
"Uncle Janus!" Scarus finally spoke up, pushing himself to the center of the storm. He approached the man calmly, so different from those already at the center, even going as far as calling him 'uncle'. Minister Thistlewood moved to the side to make way for Sera's guard. "With all due respect, Seraphine's already working very hard on a series of special assignments."
"Oh." Minister Thistlewood took a step back away from Sera and moved to Scarus. "On whose authority?"
"Why? Who else but the President."
Minister Thistlewood's face crumpled in disappointment and he backed away, nodding. "Understood." He grumbled, clearly annoyed.
He wasn't the only one displeased by Scarus' words. Director Walston cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can ask—"
"I have an announcement to make!" Plutarch spoke up, sick of seeing the disgusting spectacle in front of his eyes. His words rang through the ballroom, gathering the attention of everyone in the hall. The glass in Director Walston's hand cracked a little and he quickly replaced it with a new glass of champagne. "For the past five glorious years, I've been the Head Gamemaker."
The crowd of guests erupted into cheers effectively taking the spotlight of the host of the ball and the guest of honor. Some complimented him while some critiqued Plutarch but most liked and admired him.
It made Sera sick to her stomach to see someone like him celebrated so eagerly. The guests looked numb to the suffering caused in the past five years, only seeing it as another form of entertainment for them.
"Yet I think my time has come to an end." Plutarch carried on. The crowd deflated and the cheers turned to worried murmurs. "I know. I know. After much discussion with the other gamemakers and the President himself, I will be stepping down to give way for new talent after this game ends to celebrate a new decade of the games. Though make no mistake my friends, I'll still be a Gamemaker just not in charge. I wish whoever follows my footsteps good luck."
Everyone nodded but they were still sad to see him go. The crowd dispersed, even the other victors took it as a cue to leave. Finnick finally left her side and immediately he was swarmed by his admirers who eclipsed his figure.
Plutarch caught her eye and grinned, holding up his glass before drinking it all. She looked away remembering Scarus was still behind her. Her guard didn't seem so pleased to see the Gamemaker, taking a glass of strong alcohol and finishing it. He only stopped for another glass when she met his gaze, he slowly put the glass away and excused himself.
An assistant of Director Walston came whispering something to his ears before he nodded. He turned to Minister Thistlewood and spoke quietly and quickly. With each word, the minister's face twisted in anger. The two excused themselves before being led away by Director Walston's distraught assistant.
"Oh, he's so pretentious." Emilia laughed, covering her mouth and looking around her. "I swear that man thinks he's oh-so important just because he had his attention." Sera froze and turned her head towards Emilia but the escort didn't meet her gaze. "I see an old friend from the Academy, do you mind keeping Seraphine company? She's terrible with directions and is very prone to getting lost."
"Not all." Plutarch smiled and waved at Emilia who left Sera with the Head Gamemaker. She would rather spend time with Scarus than stay and talk to him. "I believe you want to ask me something."
She took a small pastry from a nearby tray. "Is Emilia with you?" He nodded. "How long?"
"From her days as a student at the University."
"It makes sense now. The roses and all." Plutarch curiously watched her but she didn't want to answer him. "That man—"
He turned away from her and motioned his head towards the on-lookers. They weren't paying attention but it didn't mean they wouldn't react to the mention of the Director. Emilia did mention he was famous and renowned, not to mention, he might be connected to the President.
"Did the pawn meet the other bishop?" She instead quietly asked, eating the colorful pastry in her hands. Plutarch nodded in response.
It made sense why and how Director Walston managed to hold on and stay in his place while Plutarch was tested. He was cold, graceful and unreadable.
The mask was just another layer of protection. He moved stiffly yet elegantly, leaving no room for anyone to read him through his body language. Director Walston was charming. She wanted to see how Plutarch would bring him down yet she didn't want to get involved at all.
"The other bishop seems stronger." She added as an afterthought, her gaze on the back of the Director.
Plutarch chuckled amused. "You're looking at a rook, not a bishop."
Her face scrunched up. It was the first time she had been wrong about something. "Oh. So the bishop is…" She cautiously turned her gaze towards Minister Thistlewood and Plutarch nodded.
"The white bishop is stronger but the black bishop is smarter."
"You're a little too confident for someone who escaped death."
"I guess you and I have something in common."
"Difference is I didn't choose to be in that situation." Ironic how she was having this conversation with the man who was in charge of her games. "You did." She reminded him of his own plans which led him to where he was.
There was no room for denial. Her words were carefully chosen and they were correct. "So I did." He had to admit defeat but at the same time he believed his short term loss would lead to big term gains. "And I trust my gamble will pay off. After all, I decided to take your other advice."
Other advice?
Her face fell and she realized what he meant—he was going to frame the minister. "You're going to…" Plutarch nodded. She sucked in a sharp breath and looked away but if anyone were to look closely enough, they would notice her light trembling. "Well, keep me out of your plans. I want nothing to do with this."
"You'll change your mind one day."
"I won't." Her rejection was firm and quick. She didn't want any part of Plutarch's plans. "I've made up my mind so you can stop trying and don't even think of using Emilia in this."
"Why? You'll turn her in?"
"Who knows?"
Plutarch's face hardened, the amusement washed from his face. Though she was clearly lying, he couldn't help but take her seriously. After all, it was her who took out many of his men and it was in complete ignorance too. Now she had knowledge of his plans, there was a possibility she might use it against him.
She could read it all in his face and she had to scoff. Who did he think she was? She wanted no involvement and it applied to everything, he was not an exception.
She took another drink from the tray, water this time. "Relax, I have no intention to expose you or hurt anyone. I don't have much choice in what I do anyways."
"I can help you." Plutarch looked a little desperate. "I can—"
"You can barely help yourself, how are you going to help me?" Her words shut Plutarch up and the man had nothing left to say. He couldn't refute it. Still under the President's suspicion, Minister Thistlewood had taken advantage of his moment of weakness already to get leg up. "Oh and I hope you won't take out any aggression you feel towards me on the tributes from Five—they're innocent."
Plutarch's grip on his glass tightened and his eyes narrowed on Sera. "What kind of man do you think I am?"
"A vengeful one." Sera said without much thought. "I do invite you to prove me wrong."
The Gamemaker's expression shifted and he chuckled. She cornered him, with a few simple words she managed to unknowingly bargain the lives of her tributes. He couldn't lie, she was good and it was a shame she wanted nothing to do with his plans. He believed in change and was confident she'd come around one day.
Without another word, she quickly left him behind and started to wander around, going up the stairs to find a place to rest where she could spend the rest of her evening without worrying about being hounded.
She had already secured three to four sponsorships for Zephyr, two for Ira, in the place of Wells. She was done with her duties as a mentor and now wanted to rest. She had also met the guest of honor, someone the President wanted her to meet. She was done here.
Scarus was waiting for her outside in the gardens, conflicted and in deep thought when she approached him. "You're not going to dance?"
Tiredly she shook her head. "I don't feel well." Half true, she had recovered from her earlier spell of sickness. She still didn't want to take any chances. "Can I excuse myself?" She asked, glancing around the well-lit garden.
Scarus got up from his seat near the marble fountain and walked up to her, holding his hand out. "You can. I'll take you back to your apartment."
She took his hand and allowed him to lead her back. "Thank you…for what you did earlier."
The guard was taken back by her sudden kindness and he grew stiff before nodding. He was used to her detached and bored self, not expecting anything more than a pretty flower who only spoke hollow kind words.
"I'm sorry too." He held the door to the car open for her, helping her inside with her dress. "For uncle Janus' behavior earlier. He's not usually like that." He didn't believe in the excuses he was making but he desperately wanted to. His godfather was one of the few people who truly cared about him over his brother. It was foolish of him to cover for him but he couldn't help himself.
"Uncle Janus?"
He got inside the car and motioned the driver to drive before pressing a button to put the divider on. A glass divider slid up between the driver's seat and the back. "He's my godfather." He admitted after the divider was turned into noise canceling for the driver.
"I heard." But she was a little interested. It was a little amusing how the people around her were from two different factions, all playing their own games of chess while she was caught in the middle. She didn't see herself as a player but more of a spectator in the games, a wildflower in the battle field just swaying in the wind, caught in the crossfire.
Emilia was clearly in Plutarch's faction. Her secretiveness and her over-friendly behavior should've rang warning bells in Sera's mind but it didn't. Similarly, Scarus was in the President or Minister Thistlewood's faction. He was openly hostile to her from the beginning. Yet something told her, he wasn't completely taken in by their ideals. He was just someone yearning for acknowledgement.
"I don't really go around telling everyone about him and my relationship with him."
The guard looked at her and expected her to be staring out the window. To his surprise, he found her bright silver eyes staring widely at him. He couldn't help but smile.
He quickly dropped his smile and cleared his throat, sitting up in his seat. "Minister Thistlewood is an important minister and if I mentioned him all the time, it would seem like I am where I am because of my connections not because of my skills."
"Do people really think that? It's stupid. I'm sure they can see how skilled you are." She didn't really know how skilled he was and was only speaking without thinking much.
"Doesn't matter." He looked away, staring out the window at the passing neon signs as they headed closer into the city. "People see what they want to."
Sera almost laughed at his words. How strange it was the two were so alike yet so different from one another. Still it was clear neither sympathized with the other. She would rather die than sympathize with her guard so she stayed silent, listening to the sounds of the night and contemplating her next moves.