Chapter 67: Control, or The Lack Thereof
A blanket of golden draped across the entire Capitol when the sun broke through the dark clouds. Sera stared at a still Finnick who smiled sadly at her. His hands tightened around herself before she ran into his embrace, burying her head into the crook of his neck, refusing to part.
"It would be nice if we could run away from here." Sera whispered into his ears, causing him to laugh and pull back as he placed a soft kiss on her cheeks.
"Wishful thinking doesn't suit you."
But the empty nauseating feeling of despair made her act out "You can't blame me. I'm worried. There's a few people in there who won't play along."
"Brutus and Enobaria."
"And Cashmere and her brother." She added softly, a hint of pain seeping through her voice. Finnick's hold on her tightened once more. "Cashmere knows…about us."
"I can guess she wasn't happy."
She shook her head. "No, quite the opposite. She was…upset that I never trusted her as much as she trusted me but you know me…and trust—I can't exactly tell her it wasn't personal."
"Because it wasn't."
"Doesn't matter." Cashmere wouldn't care and Sera had no plans to explain things to her; she didn't even have the time. "I'm worried she could take it out on you or—"
"The star-crossed lovers." Finnick finished for her with a quiet bitter laugh. He sighed and looked across the empty shadowy roof, barely illuminated. "I forgot how petty she was."
She reached for his hand once more. "Be careful. I don't care if you have to throw…the rebel plans away but I'd rather you stay safe than anything else."
"I'll be fine." He reassured her, lifting their joined hands and pressing a warm kiss on top of her ungloved hands. "But it's nice to see you so worried about me."
"Finnick." Sera hissed out and he chuckled. "I'm being serious here. I need you to be careful. Snow's on edge. He doesn't trust any of us anymore, certainly not me. I don't know what he'll make the Gamemakers do this time around."
"Not even a little hint?" Sera shook her head and his face fell.
His heart squeezed as he stared at Sera's face, still with a thin mask of makeup from the night before and dressed the same. Her eyes were a little red and moist from the unshed tears she was holding in and her hair was slightly messy but not too much.
Both knew things had changed beyond their control. Even if they along with the other victors had control over the people, it didn't matter at all in the long run. President Snow was still the one pulling the strings.
"I'll be fine." He repeated with a brighter tone. She was unconvinced. "Really. I'll be fine. You've seen me, you said it yourself, you studied my games—you know what I can do."
"That was years ago, Finn."
"Not that long ago." His voice quaked as he finished his sentence and he closed his eyes to curse himself. "I'll be fine. It's the star-crossed lovers you need to worry about." He spun her around.
Not reassured, Sera tried to put on a brave face. She stood on her toes and pecked his lips before he pulled her closer for a deeper kiss. They stayed there for a moment and let the rising sun's bright and warm blanket. But inside, she was so cold.
Finnick sighed as he broke the embrace, his hands lingering on Sera's shoulders. "Promise me," He pleaded, his gaze searching hers for any sign of hesitation. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless."
Sera remained silent, her eyes downcast. She couldn't make that promise, not when she knew what was at stake or what the future would bring. There were too many possibilities unaccounted for. Finnick knew her too well; he could see the determination in her eyes, the unspoken resolve. She wouldn't promise him her life. She couldn't.
With a heavy heart, he reached into his shirt and fished out a thin chain hidden in the folds of his thin white shirt. Dangling from the chain was an identical ring to the one hiding in her pocket; the other half of the pair. His hand was shaky and cold to touch when he lifted Sera's hand up, unfurling it with ease.
"You're not taking this with you?" She asked, cocking her head to the side and panic bubbling inside.
He gently placed it in Sera's hand, closing her fingers around it. "I can't take two tokens into the arena."
Sera's breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the ring, her heart aching with the weight of his words. She felt sick and bile rose up from the back of her throat that she swallowed alongside her tears.
But then her gaze flickered to the gold band around Finnick's wrist, the intricate flame pattern glinting in the sunlight.
"Where'd you get that from?"
"Haymitch." Finnick answered, uncomfortably twisting the band back and forth around his wrist. "It's on." He said. "The last ever alliance we'll have for the games."
Last ever alliance.
The words echoed in her head and she nodded to herself. Right, that was what she needed to remember. If everything worked out then it didn't matter and everything had to work out.
With a forced smile, she slipped the engagement ring onto her finger, the metal cool against her skin. She'd put it away with its pair soon enough.
Finnick's lips met hers in a tender yet desperate kiss, his arms enveloping her with an intensity that spoke volumes of his unwillingness to let her go. The way he held her was as if he was trying to imprint the memory of her into his very soul. Yet he had to pull back. His gaze swept over her face as if memorizing every detail.
The anguish in his eyes, the deep well of sadness that he tried to hide was reflected clearly in his eyes. It tore her heart, knowing there was nothing she could do to ease his pain. She felt a helplessness that gnawed at her, wishing she could offer more than empty reassurances.
She had nothing to give him but empty words. Words, they both knew, would mean nothing.
Finnick glanced at the time on his wristwatch and forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I spent my possible last night out of the arena, sleepless and waiting for you to celebrate your birthday," He said, his voice tinged with bittersweet humor. "Now I almost don't want to go back down." He hesitated, his hands still resting on her shoulders, as if reluctant to break contact. "But I have no choice." His voice broke just a little.
Slowly, he began to let go, his fingers trailing down her arms. Sera almost couldn't bear to release him, her hands lingering on his. She clung to him, her heart screaming against the inevitable separation.
"I'll be right here," She whispered again, more to herself than to him, trying to find some solace in the promise. "You come back to me in one piece, okay?"
"Okay." He echoed, his voice filled with a resolve that belied the fear they both felt.
With one final squeeze, Finnick stepped back, giving her a lingering look before turning away. As he walked towards the door, Sera watched him go, her heart heavy. The sun's early light cast long shadows, painting the world in hues of gold and orange. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find warmth against the cold that had settled deep within her.
The door creaked open again, and Sera's heart lept, hoping Finnick had come back. But it was Huxley who stepped out, his brow furrowed with concern. "I've been waiting for you all night," His voice carried a mix of worry and relief. "Where have you been?"
"I was with Finnick." Sera replied honestly, not meeting his eyes.
Huxley sighed deeply, his disappointment clear, but he didn't raise his voice. "It's not like you to let your emotions cloud your judgment." He said, gently yet firmly. "You need to be more careful—I don't know how many times I have to tell you this but you're not a kid anymore, I can't keep watching over you."
A spark of anger flared within her, and she snapped. "What would you do if Talissa went back to the arena? Or Clarisse?"
"Sera." He took a step closer, reaching out but stopping short of touching her. "I'm just looking out for you–for us." He said quietly and she nodded, apologizing to him quietly as she did so. He waved her off and placed his hand on her shoulders, escorting her down as he carried on speaking. "Zephyr came back last night. He wanted to wish you a happy birthday."
Sera laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the morning air. "There's nothing happy about my birthday, and there never was."
She couldn't even recall the last time she was happy on her birthday. All she really remembered was being sick or spending time in the Capitol surrounded by people she didn't know or like.
"You know, Talissa and Ramiel would argue about that." Huxley tried to lighten the mood, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a forced smile. "Lissa was over the moon when you were born—she always wanted a little sister, always used to complain about Miel."
"Doesn't feel like she did want me around."
He sighed. "That's because you weren't around and you're only being this gloomy because your…husband-to-be is going back into the arena and I can tell you now with confidence that he'll be fine."
"I know." She lied. "It doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be upset. I just…" She let out a heavy breath to compose herself. "Are Leora and Wells awake?" She asked instead.
"They didn't sleep." He replied and the elevator opened up to reveal the empty yet brightly lit halls.
Stepping into the common room, Sera noted the scene in front of her with a blank face and a heavy heart. Wells had been drinking like usual, evident from the empty bottles scattered around him. His eyes were glazed over, his movements sluggish. Leora was not much better, nursing a drink with shaking hands with a somber Mabel hunched over an empty glass.
Strangely, the room felt much more dull and lifeless than usual with an eerie muttering silence accompanying. The brightly lit wooden walls with sunbursts felt hollow and dull, even the bright sun outside felt artificial. It was like the color and life had been sapped away elsewhere.
Mabel swallowed and muttered something incoherently as she took heavy breaths. Creon nodded along, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief; his mind addled by the liquor surrounding him. His bleary gaze was on the screen in front of him where Finnick was giving his final interview, muted yet so loud that Sera wanted to cover her ears to drown out his voice.
The only person standing was a stone-faced Zephyr. His hands were on his hips, watching them with a solemn expression. The weight of their collective despair seemed to hang in the air, suffocating and inescapable. He was caving in with the misery and his gray complexion told her that one more second on his own surrounded by the half-dead and he would collapse.
"Where were you?" Zephyr kicked some of the bottles to the side and spared a glance at the clock. "Do you even know what time it is?" He hissed out, leaning in as his gray face turned a desperate shade of pale red.
A sharp gasp and Mabel stood up straight as an arrow, covering her mouth. "Time." She muttered over and over again and looked at the clock before deflating. "Oh right. Time. We don't have much time." She pinched her face and turned to Sera with a false Capitol smile that she knew too well. "Ah, shall we all start making preparations for the final—the beginning of the games."
She nodded to herself as the doors opened behind her and the remaining stylist team for Five hurried in. Leora shut her eyes and with a strangely pleasant smile stood up. Gracefully, she followed a stumbling Mabel for her final prep, leaving Wells to gather himself.
"Wells," Huxley dropped down to the floor and slipped Wells' arm over his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you ready. Mabel's gonna join you later." He looked over his shoulder to a still Creon and signaled to Sera and Zephyr to shake him out of his stupor.
But neither of them could move before Creon turned off the television and wiped his face dry. "Seraphine. Huxley." He said as Mabel pinched her cheeks to return back to life. "You two also should get ready too. We don't have much time. If we want District 5 to have the victor of victors then we should prepare for the part and make it on time."
Wells snorted. "It's not like we can be late." He smirked and let out a sigh. His hand was on his chest as he kept on sighing before he shut his eyes and threw his head back. "Alright then, I'm ready. Foret, help me up."
Huxley helped him up, supporting Wells as they disappeared to get ready. Creon watched them go, then turned to Sera and Zephyr. "I'm going to get changed and get ready for breakfast. You two should do the same." He announced.
A press of a button, a slew of Peacekeepers filed into the room, hurrying to gather all the discarded bottles and half-eaten food that Sera hadn't even noticed. Only when it was her and Zephyr did she notice the stench of hard liquor mixed in with the nauseating smell of the oddly melted cakes and meat pastries on the floor. Her stomach turned and bile rose up in her throat as she covered her mouth to block the smells.
She walked backward and headed straight to her room, motioning Zephyr to follow her. She had exactly twenty minutes before her own stylist team arrived for a quick session and she had to make those twenty minutes count. She had to know what he'd been up to for the past two weeks at the Citadel. After all, he was the only victor still being allowed to work there.
Silently, Zephyr closed the door behind them. He looked at her with an expression that was a mix of concern and maybe fear. She wasn't so sure. "I have some things to tell you." He said quietly.
"Good, I have things to tell you as well." She directed him to a pair of seats in front of the tall curtained windows. "You go first."
"Sure." He sat down and took out his pocket watch, holding it up. He moved the pocket watch around the room, getting up and circling the room before he sat back down. "All clear here. Looks like they don't completely doubt you."
"There's hardly been anyone else in here but avoxes."
"You can never be sure." He tucked away the pocket watch and sat up straight. "So where do I begin?" He clasped his hands together and stared at the floor.
Sera studied him for a moment, wondering if Zephyr was scared like the others, like herself. At first, she didn't think he was. Zephyr always seemed so composed, like herself. She liked that about him.
But then she noticed the small tremors in his movements, the way his fingers fidgeted ever so slightly. She stilled her breathing. Oh. He was much more anxious than he let on.
"The Citadel," He said, intertwining his fingers together. "Is on high alert and I mean it's like…they're preparing for something and not just a regular game—and before you say 'Zephyr, it's the Quell', it's not just the Quell. There's something else." He carried on, unlacing his fingers and leaning in. His face turned unnaturally gray the more he spoke, eating up the little color he'd regained before. "Remember we–you noticed that they were beefing up security by the borders of the Capitol?"
"What about it?"
"It's not just the borders anymore." He replied. "They had a map of the entire Capitol up for a while—just there before they replaced it with Panem's map and I heard them talking about making new mutts and testing experimental ones—again before you say it's for the games—I don't think they'll throw in experimental mutts in there, not without pissing off the entire nation."
Sera threw her head back and shut her eyes. "The entire nation is already pissed off. They don't care anymore, Zeph."
"I know that!" He hissed and looked to the side, biting his lips out of frustration. "Look, I know Beetee and Plutarch think we have the element of surprise here but Wiress and I—we talked about this whole plan and we were worried that maybe…" He dropped his voice to whisper. "Maybe the Capitol has some awareness of a rebellion."
The minute she knew about the border security increase, she suspected it. She wasn't the only one. Of course. "Plutarch knows about it too—why else do you think he pushed for this game?" This wasn't a calculated move from him. She thought it was but it wasn't. "This is his—our last chance."
"Without the Quell, the Capitol would have more time to hide away any dissent but now they don't. The games will rile people up—remind them of last year and what they don't have with all the shortages and everything." He said to himself. "So both sides are aware of the other's plans."
"Not completely." Sera said, tightening her hold on her neck. "Snow still trusts Plutarch."
"Thanks to you."
Like she'd been stung, she turned away from him. He was right. The only reason Plutarch was still alive and in Snow's good grace was because of a young and naive Sera.
"But he doesn't trust me."
Zephyr pursed his lips. "I'd say he doesn't trust any of the victors anymore and you're just part of it and so am I."
"But you're still at the Citadel." She pointed out.
"Because I'm replacing Beetee and Wiress." He reminded. "They're making me go over his inventions, study maps, and electrical and power lines for some reason."
Beetee probably expected Zephyr to replace him yet he hadn't said a word of it. Too busy focusing on the games. There had been no talks of rebellion for a while now and it was clear that there would be none for a while.
"Maybe they're replacing the lines?" She suggested. It sounded silly to her ears but that was the only thing she could think of. "I did remember something along the lines of Five needing to pump out more power."
Zephyr shook his head. "I don't think the power and electrical lines are for civilians."
"It's to the Citadel?" She offered and he shook his head. "Then what?"
"It's to the entire Capitol." He said and moved his chair closer to her. "Here's the kicker though, the proposed lines look awfully similar to how they layout the power and electrical lines for the Hunger Games arenas—with the arena shields and stuff."
Sera froze and looked at Zephyr with her mouth hung open. A light tap and he closed her mouth. "H-how do you know what the layout of the arenas are like? Aren't they random?"
"Beetee, Wiress, and I were studying the arenas. Beetee helped with the security of some of them." He answered. "But they are as random as they make us believe but this isn't about the arena itself—it's about how it's powered—the gridlines and stuff."
"I think I understand a little." Honestly, she was lying to herself. She knew little about how the power was actually supplied to the districts and the Capitol. If her brother stood in her spot, he would know exactly what Zephyr was talking about but she wasn't Ramiel.
"I don't blame you if you don't." He said. "I wouldn't have understood either if it wasn't for Ramiel." Sera stood up and Zephyr pulled her back down. "Listen before you react—I understand you're on the edge but I need to finish. Ramiel had some materials out from his work last winter and I snooped—I had a look at them, to understand the power lines—that's how I understood most of it. To sum it up, they're changing the power lines for the entire Capitol, making it like the arenas."
"So they're turning the Capitol into an arena? For what?"
Zephyr shrugged. "I don't know. Early preparations for the 100th Games? Make the Capitol the arena, make the tributes relive the Dark Days—the First Rebellion, would be a really sick idea if they go through with that one."
Some of the Capitolites would find it morbidly entertaining but Sera didn't think the rest would. The Dark Days was still a sore topic for the Capitol too and she was sure of it.
"I don't think they'd do it."
"I think they would. Your turn." He said. "What's going on in your end?"
Sera laughed. "I'm back to square one." She began with a heavy breath. Zephyr moved to pour her a glass of water and he grabbed a container of sliced apples from the mini fridge in the corner of the room before returning to her side. "Snow's making Scarus my personal guard."
His brows furrowed and he slowly sat down in disbelief. "You're joking."
"Does it look like I am?" She fired back, grabbing a slice of apple and shoving it into her mouth. "It's like I'm back where I started—doesn't make sense why he would even assign Scarus of all people to watch over me."
Zephyr said nothing. He sat there, still as a board, thinking about what Sera had said. "I think he's going to use you to clean up the mess the others made." He suggested calmly yet his tone was tinted with a subtle shade of nervousness.
"That's what you think?" It was a sound explanation but her irrational mind thought Snow was punishing her. And yet, the more she thought about Zephyr's explanation, the more it made sense. She rubbed her forehead and hunched over the small glass table between them. "Makes sense."
"Johanna swore at the Capitol people last night while the rest were very open about how much they hated this Quell." He carried on. "I'm guessing Snow asked you to restart your 'job'?" Sera nodded and he pursed his lips. "He's using you to clean up their messes. I have a guess how things are going to go down now."
"So do I." Now that Zephyr had spelled it out for her, she saw everything clearer. "They'll block the unedited replays of the interview or they'll scrub the entire thing off the face of the earth, replace it with behind the scenes of the Quell and too many footages of the parade before replacing that all with a mishmash of past games and interviews and when that's all done—"
"You're going to get pushed into the spotlight." Zephyr said. "Helping raise funds for the orphans of Capitol while volunteering in hospitals, clinics, and the underbelly of the Capitol."
"He's got it all figured out."
"Almost." Zephyr took a slice of apple and slid into his mouth. "He clearly trusts you and me to some extent or he wouldn't have decided to keep us around."
Sera shook her head. "He doesn't trust us—it's more like, we're the only pieces he has along with Augustus now that he's decided to discard Beetee, Finnick, Gloss, and Cashmere. I have a feeling Augustus will be joining me in managing the orphanage."
"Or he'll join Caesar in recapping the games." Zephyr offered. "That's his area and people would go insane for that or maybe…they'll put him on sale."
Sera and Zephyr shared a grim look and then looked away. It was hard to say but it was more likely what Augustus' future would be like.
"You know, I'm not sure why he's allowing Consul Redcliff to be your guard again." He hummed under his breath and tapped the table with his fingers while Sera sat back. "Ah, walk down the memory lane."
She raised her brows and tilted her head. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, he's trying to remind everyone about your games and about you."
"You think he's trying to bury Katniss and Peeta's games from last year with mine?" She laughed. That made little sense. Her games were not that memorable. "You know my games were very forgettable."
"The aftermath wasn't." Zephyr pointed out. "I don't think you understand that you were one of the first victors to work directly with the Capitol people—charity work too. The career victors were treated as entertainment while District 3 victors were allowed to collaborate on some Capitol projects, Beetee being the only person from Three who was allowed to truly work in the Citadel before me."
She bit down her lips and took out a pillbox. Zephyr sat up, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the pills.
"Not poison." She assured him. "I've done all the testing I have left. Just meds for my heart." She slipped a pill into her mouth and downed it with water.
"Can never be sure with you."
Smiling, she placed her head on her hand. "I promised Finnick I'd take care of myself and I intend to keep that promise."
"We'll see." Again his body shook a little, giving away his fear. She looked away and shut her eyes to block out the twisted vision of Eugene hovering over Zephyr's form.
Sera said softly. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this."
Zephyr laughed sadly, shaking his head. "You didn't drag me into anything, Sera. I'd find a way to get involved either way." He hesitated for a moment before asking. "Did you tell Finnick about Scarus returning as your guard?"
Sera's fingers instinctively went to Finnick's ring on her finger, playing around with it as she replied. "No, I didn't want to worry him. He has enough on his plate already."
"We need to send Huxley back home." Zephyr's eyes followed her movements.
Sera nodded, a look of resignation in her eyes. It pained her to admit but she liked having Huxley around, it reminded her of home and gave her a sense of peace. Yet, it was wrong. Huxley shouldn't be there with her. He deserved to be back home with Talissa and his kids. He deserved to be far away from the storm that was forming.
"I know." Her voice came out small and foreign. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and washed it away with the last of the water in the glass. "Nox sent a letter recently." She said, clearing her throat.
"Oh, did he now? What'd he say?"
"Apparently," She placed the empty glass down in front of her. "Talissa had an accident taking care of the snapdragons."
"Snapdragons." He echoed with a raised brow.
"Snapdragons." She repeated. "And Faro came down with a cold. Miel and everyone working at the plants have been putting in extra shifts and oh, some stupid plant worker joked about getting aconite from the shop. Just the…mundane stuff."
He leaned forward with his mouth covered with his hand. Yet she could see the grin on his face, breaking through its cover. "Smart kid." He mumbled. "Too smart for his own good." He kept on going. "Anything on Clarisse?"
"She's looking after Dia."
Zephyr let out a relieved sigh, his shoulders relaxing. "Good, I'm glad she's okay."
Sera stood up and walked to a small desk, retrieving the letter Nox had sent. She came back and placed the letter in front of Zephyr, who picked it up and read it over and over again before passing it back to her.
"How did Oran get a job after what he did?" He asked, with a quiet chuckle in disbelief.
She shrugged, folding the letter carefully. "Remember, he was the errand boy around Five for the longest time? I'm sure he's got some connections in some of those plants. I think they put him down to do the tough work no one wants to do."
A look of understanding crossed his face. "Makes sense. I think Nox will send another letter soon."
He pulled out a lighter, flicked it on, and held the flame to the corner of the letter. The paper caught fire quickly, curling and blackening. They watched the flames for a moment before he threw the burning remnants into the dead fireplace in her room.
They watched the embers glow and fade. "I never wanted to get him involved in this."
"But he's not involved."
Zephyr was trying to be reassuring and she understood that. Yet her irrational heart didn't want to hear it. All she could hear was that it was her fault that she failed to keep Nox out of this.
Sensing the need for a change in topic, Zephyr hesitantly said. "I've been thinking…maybe I should stay back in the Capitol. I don't trust Thirteen."
She looked at him, considering his words. "I've been thinking about it too, but only for a short while after Plutarch told me to keep doing what I've been doing."
Zephyr laughed, getting up from his seat. "Plutarch really wants to die, doesn't he?"
She didn't know or care about Plutarch's motives for wanting her to keep going against him. It was his idea to make sure they never ever agreed on anything in public, show anyone who was watching that Seraphine Reza despised the Gamemaker that ran her games or maybe there was a power struggle between them. People loved to talk and she.
But now she had an idea that maybe, this was Plutarch's way of giving her an out if things went south for the rebellion.
"...I trust him." She said finally. "Between the three of us, he's been around the longest and managed to worm himself onto Snow's side."
"I still don't trust him." Zephyr was naturally skeptical. "We need to be careful and look out for each other, the same can't be said about Plutarch, he doesn't have to be as careful or look out for us—he's from the Capitol after all."
Both of them considered the other's words carefully and the room fell into a contemplative silence. Plutarch had been around for a lot longer than them and yet he was at Snow's side for the longest. Trusting him was a gamble for Sera and she'd taken it after much thought.
"Do you really think staying in the Capitol is the best option?" Sera asked, breaking the silence.
Zephyr leaned back, considering her question. "It's a calculated risk. It's clear to me that Thirteen has its own agenda, and I'm not sure if it aligns with ours. Here, we at least know our enemies and can keep a closer eye on them."
Sera sighed, rubbing her temples. "We're screwed either way."
"Well, maybe it wasn't a bad idea to die in the arena. Get eaten by a stupid sand worm-snake or whatever those mutts were."
A glance at another and the two burst into a fit of soft laughter, the tension easing slightly. But it was all abruptly cut off with the sharp rapping at her door. Sera frowned and cursed under her breath, almost throwing her chair onto the floor in frustration.
Saying nothing at Sera's little burst of anger, he strolled past her to get the door. His calm and pleasant demeanor immediately collapsed once he saw who was at the door.
"Consul Redcliff." Sera greeted icily, shuffling behind Zephyr. With her left thumb, she pushed Finnick's ring out of her ring finger and clasped it tightly around her left hand before discreetly shoving it into her pocket. "I thought you'd accompany me after the games have begun."
Poor Creon could helplessly watch the uncomfortable exchange, pulling at his sleeves and looking right to left. And if things couldn't get worse for him, his stomach rumbled uglily drawing Scarus' attention to him. His sharp cat-like gaze fell on the poor escort who shrunk under his gaze, wishing the earth would swallow him whole.
"Well, I'm going to go get changed in Huxley's room." Zephyr cut through the awkward tension and pushed past Scarus. His shoulder purposely collided against Scarus' chest, pushing him backward and nearly sending him down to the floor.
Scarus turned around to grab him but he was gone. Too quick for even a former Elite Guard to catch him. Sera smiled, quickly covering her mouth and clearing her throat to gather Creon and Scarus' attention.
"Do you two mind?" She asked pleasantly.
Stuttering Creon hastily took a step back. He bowed his head apologetically while saying, "I thought you were already ready for breakfast, my b-bad."
"No worries." She replied, eying Scarus' face. She wanted to ignore him like usual but for some reason, he volunteered to be there and she didn't know why. It surely wasn't his obsession with her. He was not stupid. Reckless? Maybe.
"What were you and Zephyr Nikolas doing for so long?" Scarus grabbed the edge of the door as it was about to close on his face and pushed it towards her, taking a step forward.
Her eyes hardened but she kept that damned smile on her face. "Talking."
"Talking?" He echoed, narrowing his gaze on her now. "About what?"
"He wanted to know about my family—they—my cousin wrote a letter."
Scarus huffed. He didn't believe her. "Why does he care about what your family has been up to?"
Pursing her lips, she tilted her head to the side and teased. "Is this an interrogation, Consul?" He shook his head. "Really? Sure does feel like one." She mused. "Well, since you asked about Zephyr. He's been staying with my family for a while now since he won his games."
"Why not with his family?"
"He doesn't have one."
"That's not what I've read."
"Where'd you read that?"
"You don't need to know that." Scarus snapped and Sera nodded. "I mean," He sighed, realizing the sharpness of his tone. "I don't think it's…relevant to you."
She wanted to roll her eyes at the sudden change in tone but she kept her face blank and bit down the wave of disgust washing over her. "Not that it's anybody's business but Zephyr's parents passed away around the same time mine did and his uncle took him in. Unfortunately, that didn't last long and he was thrown out into the streets a few months before he was reaped so he had no one to go back to and I offered him to stay with us considering that I did mentor him."
She'd rather tell him that it was her who asked Zephyr to come stay with her family than Clarisse. The last thing she needed was for Scarus to know about Clarisse and for Huxley's only sister to be placed in the line of fire.
"Is that so? How generous of you." Scarus commented, taking a step forward and his fingers brushing against hers. A shock went through her and she pulled back her hand away from the door. "I didn't realize you would be…that generous."
"Then you don't know me at all." She replied airily, trying to mask her irritation.
Her patience was thinning with every passing second. She needed Scarus to leave, but she had to remain civil, at least on the surface. Scarus's eyes roamed over her, studying her from head to toe. The way he took note of every inch of her made her feel sick.
"Did you stay up all night, or did you sleep in last night's clothes?"
"I stayed up all night. I was too nervous to sleep. You know I'm about to say goodbye to Leora and Wells forever." Sera lied smoothly.
Scarus raised an eyebrow. "You don't seem very confident about those two anymore."
She confirmed his observation with a slight nod. "I'm not. It's hard to be confident in this situation knowing how many talented and capable victors will be taking part this year."
"Indeed." He said, still not moving.
At this rate, he was not going to move. Forcing a polite smile on her face with her impatience simmering beneath the surface. "If you'll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready. We don't have much time."
Scarus finally stepped back, a cold smile on his face. "I'll be waiting outside."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Sera let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She felt a wave of nausea, the encounter leaving her more rattled than she wanted to admit.
She threw open her temporary wardrobe. Picking out a pair of deep mulberry pants and a black shirt, covered with a light leather short coat embroidered with almond blossoms, she stepped into the shower while timing herself.
Once she had showered and dried her hair, she took out the pair of rings in the pocket of her coat from last night. They'd turned colder than before. Lifeless and dull. Their shine didn't seem so bright either and they were so much heavier than she'd ever felt them to be.
Her heart ached looking at them, a physical pain that felt like a vise tightening around her chest. She sat down in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection with the rings in her hands. Finnick's and hers.
Tears welled up in her eyes but she stopped herself before they could fall, quickly checking that her eyes weren't red. She couldn't afford to show any signs of weakness. Not when Scarus was outside that door and every word that slipped past her mouth and into his ears would be parroted right back to President Snow.
With a heavy sigh, she put the rings away, hiding them in the seams of a coat she had brought from District 5. She took a moment to compose herself, smoothing down her coat and straightening her posture before turning around and leaving her room.
Conversations hushed as she joined the rest of District 5's team in the dining room. She didn't expect the quiet. She guessed conversations would be more sparse but knowing Wells was there, she expected some chatter from him and Leora. Yet, the atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable.
Wells, although sober, looked terrible—his eyes bloodshot and barely able to stay open, much to Creon's dismay. The escort fussed over him, but Wells just waved him off, slumping in his chair. Mabel was off to the side, small in her seat, ripping pieces of bread and dipping them into her coffee hurriedly and stuffing them into her face without looking up.
Scarus sat nearby, his expression one of thinly veiled disgust as he glanced around the table. He didn't say anything, but his silence was more condemning than any words. It didn't take her much thinking to come to the conclusion that he was the reason for the cloud of tension covering the room.
He gestured for Sera to sit next to him, his hands purposely brushing against her waist and elbow as he directed her to the seat. She suppressed a shudder of revulsion, biting down her complaints. She sat down across from Zephyr and Huxley.
Her former mentor was pinned down from his shirt by Zephyr who had a thin careful smile on his lips. A sharp contrast to Huxley's foreboding dark look that threw daggers at Scarus.
Breakfast was spent like that: quiet and tense. Little words were exchanged and Scarus kept his eyes on her throughout the meal. She barely managed to eat a muffin with some strawberry milk before Emilia barged in with her tablet.
Mabel lept into action and assembled her team to finish prepping Leora and Wells, dragging them away after they'd finished.
Ovid didn't return since he'd stepped down. Not once had Sera seen him around the Training Center. Eos didn't even mention him yet she was nervous and overly anxious lately. She was almost scared about something, a fear that Harp seemed to mimic while Mica seemed resigned.
Despite that, she was surprised that they themselves volunteered to help Mabel and her team prepare Leora and Wells. They didn't even ask Sera. Not at first. Emilia had to remind them and only then did Eos ask her.
Sera kept a note of it, not questioning it just yet. She watched as Eos stood by Mabel and helped her finish prepping Leora before going away to help Wells.
What more could she do it say than watch them all like a passenger passing by?
She had no control here or the games. All she could do was watch and wait. Watch as Leora and Wells said their final goodbyes to each other, already resigned to their fates yet they didn't cry or break. Their goodbye was joyful and strangely calm like they had been anticipating this day for years.
And maybe they were.
Sera stood to the side and made herself scarce while Huxley managed to trade a few words with Wells. He didn't cry either. He was upset and maybe heartbroken but Sera couldn't tell. Her brother-in-law kept his face blank and made sure to hide all his emotions away from the prying eyes of the Capitol.
A small nod and a thin bitter smile, Wells was gone. That was his goodbye. Nothing grand or memorable. He walked down the hall, leaving Leora with Sera and Scarus. Creon had departed with Huxley and Wells while Zephyr had left for the Citadel
"Stay safe and live a long life, okay?" Leora said, patting Sera but not pulling her in for a hug. She didn't want or need one. "Don't waste this."
Her words oddly reminded Sera of Cashmere's final words. She turned to the floor and bowed her head down, refusing to look at Leora in fear that she'd see another ghost haunting her looking back.
But Leora wasn't even looking at her. She'd turned to the side where the walls covered her and stared longingly at it.
Leora lifted her shoulders before dropping them like the load she'd been carrying for years had finally been taken off her shoulders.
When she looked up at Sera, her eyes were clear as day and the wrinkles on her face had relaxed, giving the illusion that she was as young as she had been as the day she was reaped.
She was at peace.
And Sera had to look away at how bright she looked.
"Wells is in position." Mabel stood behind Sera and Leora nodded at her without a hint of malice. Mabel hesitated and looked to Sera before speaking. "It was nice knowing you and I…hope I get to see you or Julian again on the other side."
Leora smiled. "I'm sorry." She replied. "You won't get to style a victor."
Mabel's face cracked. "You…don't know that."
"Oh, but I do." Leora crowed. "I know a lot more than you, Mabel. We all do." She stared at the younger girl, dressed up clownishly. "You should've picked 12 to style. You'd get two for the price of one."
Mechanical ticking echoed behind them. The final countdown for the Quell had started. One last nod to each other and Leora took a hesitant step back. Glass doors slid closed around her, sealing her in as she was lifted away to the arena.
That was it. That was the last time she and Leora would ever see each other. Unexpectedly, she could see the shadows of Acadia, Thyme, and Jenny surrounding Leora. But they, along with Leora, were gone as soon as Sera's eyes had adjusted to their presence.
BANG!
The doors behind her flew open with a forceful bang, startling her. A group of Peacekeepers stormed in without a warning or a sound. By a second, Leora had missed them.
"Miss Mabel, please come with us." One of the Peacekeepers demanded.
Mabel's face went pale, and she instinctively reached out to Sera, her fingers clutching at her arm in desperation. Sera pushed Mabel behind her and slowly approached the Peacekeepers with an amicable smile but not before glancing behind her.
She didn't even get a word in before Scarus appeared in the room and ripped Mabel's hands off of her, accidentally throwing her onto the floor.
A quiet apology was all she got and nothing else. She was getting dragged away without even letting her catch her breath or get up from the floor.
Frantically, Sera looked around the room and tried to run after Mabel and talk to the Peacekeepers. Scarus quickly grabbed Sera, holding her tightly against his chest by her waist. "That's not something you should concern yourself with."
"That's Mabel." She struggled against him and he barely budged. His fingers dug into her gloved skin. "She's…just a stylist. Why are they taking her?!"
"You need to be making your way to the Observation Room."
Scarus ignored Sera's questions and let go. He grabbed her hand and started dragging her toward the Observation Room.
"We don't have much time," He checked his wristwatch nonchalantly, ignoring Mabel's cries and the cries of many more behind them. "The games begin in exactly six minutes."
Throughout the long corridor, Peacekeepers flanked the sides with their weapons drawn. A few had inside the rooms and dragged out other stylists and escorts, roughly throwing them down on the floor. Their cries and protests were met with a gun pointed to their face or a rough beating.
Scarus turned her head away from the images in front of her as he carried on. Huxley walked out of the room where he'd just said his goodbyes to Wells and stood confused and horrified at the image in front of him with Creon covering his mouth while heaving.
A Peacekeeper left the formation on the side and started to escort Huxley, not even letting him fully take in the violence around him. Creon was separated quickly.
Unlike Mabel, he wasn't dragged away screaming. He was crying out in confusion, biting his nails as he passed Sera.
Following Creon, Sera noticed the escorts of Districts 1 to 4. Only District 1's escort put up much of a fight. A frail elderly man yet he didn't hesitate to throw himself in the path of the stylists from the District 1 team while demanding some answers. Yet, he was kicked to the floor and his arms pinned to the back.
"Mr Braun please step aside and let us take the escort and stylists from One." A Peacekeeper said, brandishing his gun in front of Augustus.
Augustus remained there. He glanced around the hall, silently begging his fellow victors to do something. But no one did, at least not immediately. District 7's mentors only took a single step forward before they were met with guns to their faces.
Cursing out loud, Augustus held out his hands to shield the District 1 team while his partner pulled the escort and stylists behind them protectively.
"You don't have the authority to do this. They're just stylists and escorts!" He cried out.
"Mr Braun, you have exactly seventy-three seconds left before the games begin." Scarus calmly said, passing by Augustus and dragging Sera along without him. "Any delay will be taken as a penalty against your 'tribute' and lead to reduced screen time and any potential sponsorships your 'tribute' may get. I urge you," He glanced around the room, acknowledging each of the victors. "and everyone here to comply. These Peacekeepers are working hard to ensure your peace and safety."
"Bullshit." A mentor from Eleven spat out.
Scarus smiled and merely raised his brow at him. "Hundred and sixty-seven seconds."
District 2's mentors broke into a sprint, abandoning their team. They weren't the only ones, Sera noted Three, Four, and Ten followed soon after.
Six weren't even in their right minds to understand a thing; they had to be escorted hurriedly towards the Observation Room. While mentors from Eight and Nine had left prematurely before the commotion had begun. Districts 1, 5, 7, and 11 refused to move.
Only Twelve hadn't come out yet. She hadn't seen Haymitch or the stylists from Twelve.
But the second she thought about Twelve, she heard the shrill screech of a woman being dragged out from a room while Haymitch was escorted out behind her by a trio of Peacekeepers.
She hadn't seen the other stylist, Cinna yet and could only guess he'd already been taken by the Peacekeepers. Or so she thought.
Cinna was thrown to the floor by one of the Peacekeepers dragging him out. He wasn't even struggling or fighting back but the Peacekeepers didn't care. They were rough with him, twisting his arms so far that Augustus screamed out, pleading for them to stop.
They didn't relent. As if the victors were all specters, they were ignored. Sera tried to speak up but Huxley pulled at her arm, telling her to stay quiet and keep her head down.
A sickening crack echoed through the corridors, silencing the cries and moans of the escorts and stylists. District 12's stylist was on his back with a Peacekeeper standing on top of him with his heavy boots pressed against his chest.
"Mentors make your way to the Observation Room!" Scarus bellowed out. "You have a minute to make your way to the Observation Room!"
A few hesitant glances traded, the mentors from Nine mouthed an apology and they turned around, leaving with a pair of Peacekeepers. Seven followed soon after with some resistance. Eleven's mentors had stayed behind to help Augustus and his partner who was pleading for Augustus to comply.
Scarus was once again dragging Sera by the arm. He directed Scarus to follow them. Sera was dragged to the Observation Room but she kept looking back towards the Peacekeepers.
They were torturing Cinna. Him only. The other escorts and stylists were made to watch his horrifying ordeal. He was made an example and no one could do a thing.
Sera was roughly shoved into the Observation Room. Scarus let go and went back outside to escort the remaining victors in. He didn't come back inside and stayed outside with a few Peacekeepers guarding the door.
"What the hell is going on?" Reef hissed out at the nearby mentors.
That was the question on everyone's mind. Haymitch placed his shaky finger on his lips and looked over to the door. The room immediately fell into silence.
Sera cleared her throat and plastered a smile on her face. She took a step forward and said. "The games are about to begin soon. We can chit-chat later, Reef."
Haymitch looked at her and nodded. But his attention on her was lost when Augustus Braun was shoved into the room alongside his partner mentor and the mentors of Eleven.
He sported a split lip and a bloody eye. A few gasps and cries echoed around the room but they all didn't dare say a word, not when Scarus and the Peacekeepers were looming around.
A countdown appeared on the screen, counting down from twelve. When the countdown ended, there was a short pause before the anthem drummed into start while the screen panned over the arena, showing each of the former victors.
Sera noted that most of them were trembling but Katniss was confused, her mind elsewhere while her perfectly made face was red. She had tears in the corner of her eyes.
That wasn't like Katniss at all. Sera didn't think it was. She was a kid but she wasn't the type to cry so easily from what she'd observed.
The camera stayed on her face a second longer than usual with Haymitch covering his mouth in silence.
"She saw the commotion." Sera whispered.
A few mentors turned around but didn't look back to answer her. Scarus' hawkish gaze on them stopped them. Haymitch slowly walked backward and took a seat next to her. He kept his eyes on the screen but from the corner of his eyes, he was looking at the door.
"You think she did." Haymitch's words were barely coherent with how quiet he was. She had to strain her ears to listen.
Augustus was the one who responded. "It's obvious she did."
One of District 7's mentors, Leif handed him a handkerchief and he held it up to his lips, nursing his wound. Leif took a hesitant seat across from them.
"I think it was on purpose." Sera suggested boldly, drawing the attention of her fellow mentors. Huxley squeezed her hand in warning.
Haymitch let out a deep sigh. "Taking her out of the game, classic." His jaws tightened and he had to take deep breaths to calm down, sitting up straight to focus on the games.
The final countdown began for the former victors and another hush of silence rolled into the room.
Screeeeech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!" An overly jubilant Claudius Templesmith announced.
Plant Dictionary:
Aconite - Danger/Beware
Snapdragons - Deception
Almond Blossom - Hope