Put an ocean and a river between everything, yourself and home [3/4 - part 2]
Title: Put an ocean and a river between everything, yourself and home [3/4 - part 2]
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games nor am I earning any financial gains from this work, I am simply taking them out to play.
Pairing/Characters: Cinna; Finnick Odair, Haymitch Abernathy, Cecelia, OCs
Word Count: 11,079
Rating: R
Summary: It is very uncommon, some would say utterly unattainable, for anyone to live in a district different from that which they were born... But not impossible. The life of Cinna Bell before the 74th Hunger Games.
Chapter 3, the 71st Hunger Games.
Warnings: Violence and death
Author notes: I took a slight liberty in that Cinna says to Katniss its his first time at the games. I have bended this to mean it is his first time as a main stylist at the games, not his first year involved. Also, have no fear, this story is almost completely written and all plotted out so it is not something which will be left unfinished! (Title from "England," The National) EDIT: I decided to cast my story!
CHAPTER 1 - District 8
CHAPTER 2 - The Capitol
CHAPTER 3 - PART 1
Cross posted at: AO3
Cinna takes the main transport to the Arena Game Headquarters with the few people left. Septimus will see Mara off right before she goes up into the arena. Cinna hopes Septimus says something helpful to her.
At the main hall of the headquarters sponsors already line up, putting money down with the betting managers for tributes they hope to win. Half of the room is walled by screens ready to display the games. There are stations for placing bets as well as ordering items to send to specific tributes. At least a dozen people man each post ready to take money by the hand fulls. Three booths to one side hold attendants ready to answer phones from anyone else in the Capitol or the districts prepared to buy tribute gifts or place bets. The room also contains other forms of entertainment, a corner with a square dance floor and some bouncy music to fill any lulls in killing. There is also an assortment of food; the theme for the day seems to be exotic fruits and cooked birds.
“Are you excited?” Cinna turns to see one of Mara’s prep girls standing beside him.
“Excuse me?”
“I always love the start, that sixty seconds when they stand there and everything is silent.” She grins. “Amazing!”
Cinna only nods. “We’ll see.”
Then the announcer blares, “Happy Hunger Games!”
The screens burst to life to show a lush jungle scene, tall twisting trees and thick vines everywhere. The tributes begin to appear on their circles from the ground.
[Cora standing still with no smile on her face, running toward the backpack...]
Cinna breathes in slowly and shakes his head, focuses on the screens and finds Mara. The usual backpacks litter the ground along with knives, axes, long sheers, and a couple of cross bows.
“I can’t wait,” the little purple haired girl squeaks.
Then the count down reaches 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and the tributes spring to life. Mara races off her circle straight for a backpack a few feet away. She skids to her knees on the slippery vine covered ground and grabs the backpack. Suddenly, a knife lands right beside her knee. Mara gasps and springs up again, throwing the backpack over her shoulders. She turns in place and makes for the jungle. Another knife whizzes by her and catches her arm. Mara groans in pain but does not stop running, obvious adrenaline fueling her. She hits the edge of the jungle then tumbles in and down.
The main screen stays on the blood spurts at the Cornucopia but one of the smaller screens follows Mara in the jungle as she suddenly begins to fall. The ground tilts sharply where she’d hit the tree line, completely masked before by all the vines. Mara grunts and rolls over and over down the hill, hitting branches and vines as she goes until her hand catches one vine, stopping her frenzied fall.
“Okay, okay,” she gasps hard and pulls her self up. The ground behind her seems to fall for several more yards before leveling out again. “Oh, crap...”
Mara takes a few slow breathes. She looks up and grabs for another vine. She pulls down on it. Nothing happens. She pulls a few more times, yanking harder and harder until it finally breaks and a long coil falls down. Mara wraps one end around the tree beside her, tying a double knot of a kind Cinna does not recognize. Then she ties the other end around her waist.
“Oh good, Mara,” Cinna whispers.
Then Mara carefully holds onto the end of the vine closest to the tree and walks herself down the rest of the steep hill. About four feet above the flat surface her vine reaches its limit. Mara struggles to undo the now tight knot but finally she breaks a sharp piece of bark from a tree, saws her way through the vine and drops the rest of the way to the level ground.
“Clever.” Cinna turns to see Septimus standing beside him now. “She has a bit more smarts than I’d thought.”
Cinna grins back. “So maybe she has a chance?”
“Maybe she won’t die today,” Septimus replies quietly.
Light begins to fall for the tributes in the arena, the cornucopia blood bath over and most of the remaining tributes trudging through the jungle. The phones ring constantly, money still moving, while one screen displays a list of deaths and kills, predictions as to next to die and likely to win.
“Ten dead at the cornucopia!” One of the betting attendants shouts. “Collect your winnings for ten dead at the cornucopia!”
A few people cheer in excitement while a lot more groan with disappointment.
“They bet on that?” Cinna hisses to Septimus.
“Oh, this is only the beginning, Cinna.”
Cinna huffs. “Are you betting?”
“As a stylist, I am not allowed.”
“That’s probably a good thing.”
Septimus raises his eyebrows at Cinna. Cinna shrugs. “I’m sure you’d bet wrong.”
“Like on a career?”
“Like on whoever has the best hair.”
Septimus chuckles then points toward the tables along the wall. “Dinner? There won’t be much going on for a while and you should eat. I don’t want you to survive only on worry here.”
Cinna shakes his head. “Don’t patronize me.”
“You know I’m not. I am always full of concern for you.”
“Ever the dutiful employer.”
“Aren’t you glad I actually started paying you?”
Cinna laughs. “In fact I am.”
The two turn and head over to the tables of food. Cinna understands the mango and fried parrot trend now of the meal. He knows he shouldn’t but Cinna finds it funny. Cinna focuses on something which looks close to chicken and some bread. He’s never quite been able to eat so lavishly all the time as everyone else in the Capitol does. Cinna checks the screens, nothing showing Mara at the moment which means where ever in the jungle she is, she is safe.
“Eat, Cinna, while you still have the will,” Septimus coaxes.
“I’m going to break your favorite sewing machine if you don’t stop mother henning me.”
Septimus huffs. “Yes, sir.”
Ten minutes later Cinna puts his empty plate aside and turns around to see a set of beautiful blue-green eyes only inches away.
“Fancy a dance?”
“I... well, I...”
“All right then,” the man steps back and takes Cinna’s hand.
It is only as his fingers curl around Cinna’s that he realizes the eyes belong to Finnick Odair, victor of the 65th Hunger Games. Cinna isn’t usually one that swoons at the dashing smile or the swoop of long hair, but Finnick? Well, Finnick makes it hard for anyone not to fall at his feet.
They walk out onto the dance floor, a sort of salsa type song playing, and Finnick leads the way.
“So?” Finnick asks as he wraps his arms around Cinna, “What’s your name?”
“Cinna.”
“Cinna?”
“Cinna Bell,” Cinna clarifies, “I work for Septimus, one of the stylists for five.”
Finnick gives Cinna an odd look for a moment then his smile flashes back into place. “Got yourself an invitation to the fun?”
Cinna tilts his head. “Well... I was helping with his tribute a bit as well.”
“Ooo,” Finnick shakes his head. “Lucky boy! Makes you a bit like the prep teams?”
Cinna laughs as Finnick turns them to the left to the music, “I suppose.”
“I’ve never seen you before, Cinna.”
“Septimus is new.”
“Hmm, yes, but I mean ever.”
Cinna frowns. “Would you expect to?”
Finnack makes a charming ‘oh I don’t know’ sort of face. “Perhaps not, but these types of people are usually buzzing around here all the time even when they aren’t on the ‘staff’ so you get to recognize people.”
“Well, like I said, new.”
“Very new and very different.”
Cinna blinks with confusion and Finnick suddenly dips Cinna down to a crest in the music then pulls him back up to dance even closer.
“What do you mean?” Cinna manages, suspicion growing at the point of this dance. Finnick is known as the gorgeous flirt of all the tributes, the one who already has a list of Capitol lovers, but Cinna thinks this is something else. “What do you mean different?”
“Well, look at you,” Finnick explains, his hand sliding from Cinna’s side to flat against his lower back. “You dress in a simple black suit, just a dark purple shirt, normal hair and only the gold eye liner to jazz it up. Compared to everyone else here you are positively drab.”
Cinna watches Finnick as he moves them back and forth over the dance floor. He realizes what this is; it’s a test, an analysis. Cinna does not quite fit in despite his years of acclimation and, as someone from a district, Finnick can see.
“I let my work have all the ‘jazz,’ as you put it,” Cinna offers in explanation. “No need to overshadow my own creations.”
Finnick purses his lips but his eyes still search Cinna’s face. “Well, then.”
“Does that surprise you so much, Finnick? There is quite a variety of people here in the Capitol.”
“Oh, yes, there certainly is.”
The salsa song ends and a small group of people clap. Cinna thinks for a moment that they are applauding the music when he notices Finnick make an elaborate bow to their right. He sees about half a dozen people at the edge of the dance floor watching them, all eyes on Finnick. He winks for a finish then turns back to Cinna.
“You interest me Cinna Bell.”
“I do?”
Finnick nods. “I haven’t put my finger on it yet.”
Cinna clears his throat and glances away looking for Septimus. Finnick is as stunning a man as Cinna could ever hope to take interest in him but this is not that kind of interest. This feels like Finnick is trying to pry open Cinna’s head and burrow inside.
“I imagine you need to get back to your tribute,” Cinna says, wanting Finnick to take the out and free Cinna from scrutiny.
“Actually, Lawrence is already dead.” Cinna blinks rapidly. “Somehow Megan Till from eleven got an opening when Laurie was stabbing the little one from six. A surprise but too late now.”
Cinna can’t figure out if Finnick is really that cavalier about his tribute’s life or if the whole thing is just an act to set Cinna off balance.
“Thank you for the dance,” Cinna says then turns and escapes.
Finnick Odair makes Cinna nervous.
The night sees another death in the arena, the boy from twelve caught by Tonia from four, but nothing new for Mara. The main show finds her for a short while making herself a camp site among the vines but interest changes to follow the career pack picking the cornucopia clean and prowling the jungle. Cinna spots Alexa pacing in front of her private screen. (Each of the mentors get small screens which track just their tribute). Cinna wonders if Alexa knew Mara personally before the Games. Cinna watches a few feet behind Alexa as Mara wipes sweat from her brow and smacks mosquitoes.
“I hope those don’t turn out to be poisonous or something,” Alexa mutters.
“Cinna,” Septimus touches his shoulder, “I think perhaps that is enough for the evening.”
Cinna looks down at his watch to see the time past midnight. He groans, “Wow...”
“We will be back early tomorrow so it would be good to sleep.”
“Always the smart one, Septimus.”
The next day rain starts to pour in the arena jungle. Though the cameras stay clear, the visibility for the tributes obviously drops by half. One of the tributes from three walks straight into a wall of vines so thick he gets so tangled he strangles himself to death. The rain also brings out a new foe for the tributes, snakes and lizards three times their normal size.
“I hate lizards,” Mara pants as she struggles up a tree to escape three lizards chasing her.
Cinna watches her on a side screen, Septimus beside him, “I wish I could send her an umbrella.”
Septimus snorts. “So she could get it caught in the vines and fall back to the lizards?”
“How about an umbrella with a sword in it?”
“Elegant, we’ll have to sell them at the Boutique.”
Suddenly Mara gasps and she flashes onto the main screen. The tree is so slick with the rain and the vines she slides back down, arms knocking branches. She grabs one, nails digging into the wood, and her feet dangle just above the lizards.
Money starts to fly out of pockets and a dozen people dash over to the betting stands.
“Fifty for the lizards to kill her!” One man snaps so animatedly the whole room can hear.
Cinna clenches his fists as one lizard jumps up and snaps at her, catching her ankle. She screams and kicks back at him, nailing the creature in the face and blood spurting from both their wounds. Mara gasps, hands slipping, and kicks again so the lizard falls to the ground. The other two lizards ignore Mara and suddenly start to devour the wounded lizard. Mara pulls herself up and steps with her good foot onto a higher branch. She pulls another vine and wraps it around her good ankle using the friction to pull herself up further.
“Just a little higher.” Mara’s fingers slip, almost falling again but she manages to sit herself on a higher branch and leans back against the truck, hissing with pain.
Cinna waits for a new horror but the lizards keep destroying their comrade and Mara stays solid on her branch. Safe again.
Cinna glances over to Alexa and sees her talking to a pair of sponsors, big smile on her face. Perhaps she is already planning ahead to cajole a sponsor into sending Mara medicine should the bite become infected. Cinna starts imagining all sorts of horrible things to happen. Perhaps the lizard’s bites are poisonous and she’ll fall out of the tree dead any minute? Maybe the infected wound starts to rot and she’ll have to cut off her foot? Maybe the rain will never stop and she’ll drown or slip again and break her neck or the vines will fight back?
“Stop thinking so hard.”
Cinna ignores Septimus and stares at the screen where Mara pulls off her shoe to inspect her ankle.
“Really, Cinna, I doubt she’ll die from that.”
“Shut up, Septimus.”
Cinna did not expect to become so attached to Mara.
The highlight of day two luckily is not Mara’s brush with the mutant lizards but the fight between Kipper of district six and Clark of district nine. Though Clark only received a four training score, when Kipper jumps down from a tree obviously thinking she would get a quick kill Clark reacts instantly grabbing her by the wrist and slamming her onto the ground. The two grapple back and forth, pinning each other and landing punches, as the rain makes sure they are coated in mud. Clark pulls a knife and stabs her in the shoulder. However, Kipper throws him off and gets the knife from him, slashing him across the face. After a few more trades of the knife and some violent slamming into trees as they fight, Clark gets a vine around her and pulls her tight against a tree. Kipper struggles but Clark only pulls the vine tighter each time she moves.
“Fine. Come on then!” Kipper shouts.
Clark stabs her in the throat and leaves her tied to the tree, the rain washing her clean. The betting tables are awash with unhappy losers and one very pleased woman who happened to bet against the odds.
Day three Cinna meets Cecelia from district eight.
The morning begins slowly with no new deaths. The rain keeps coming and crocodiles appear in the jungle sending tributes climbing up into trees. Mara hikes through the jungle, gathering strong vines and putting them in her backpack as she searches for food.
As the day goes on, Cinna finds himself recognizing someone new among the mentors each in front of their own screen. Cinna isn’t sure at first why he unconsciously focused on her then he realizes it is Cecelia, one of victors from eight. Cinna feels a pang of old homesickness and walks over to her.
“Hi,” Cinna holds out his hand, “Cinna Bell, would you… that is…” Cinna shakes his head, “is your tribute doing well?”
Cecelia smiles softly with a nod. “He still seems to be going well. Good to meet you Cinna. Which district are you with?”
Cinna points over at Alexa and Septimus. “Five, just this year.”
“Ah.” She nods again. “Welcome to the Games.”
Cinna laughs. “Do you… do you enjoy coming to the Capitol? A big change from district eight I’d imagine?”
“Oh my yes, quite different.” Cecelia glances at the screen then back to Cinna. “I’m here to help, of course, my job as a mentor.”
“You don’t come every year though, yes? There are other victors?”
“A few.” Cecelia points to a man near the food tables. “Vance goes most years but I have children so I trade off.”
Cinna smiles. “Oh, you do?”
“Three.”
Cinna blinks again and feels his face fall slightly because that’s his family now too. Just three.
“How is it back in eight?” Cinna asks. “Are things… good?”
Cecelia gives him an odd look. “Uh, well, yes…”
“Oh, good, yes, very good.”
“Why do you ask?”
Cinna shrugs. “Oh, no reason really. I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time when you have a tribute to keep track of. Good luck.”
Cinna turns and flees, kicking himself in his head. What was he thinking? He just looked odd and suspicious. Of course no one from the Capitol would genuinely ask about life in the districts, ‘how things were.’ Cinna was stupid. He needs to remember that despite the time only one person here knows of his past and it wouldn’t be so smart so just go exposing himself now.
Cinna makes his way back to Septimus, half hiding behind him with shame. “Septimus, I think sometimes you need to keep a better eye on me.”
Septimus sips his drink and watches the screen. “You can talk to Cecelia Halise all you please Cinna. I see no officials coming to lock you up so stop worrying so.”
Cinna should have known Septimus has eyes in the back of his head. “That’s a comfort.”
“And dear Mara is still hiking strong.”
“Good to hear.” That, in fact, actually is a comfort.
Mara dies the next day.
Mara makes her way out of the jungle and into the swamp. Cinna really shouldn’t be surprised by such odd environment connections.
“Do they have a desert in there too?” Cinna grumbles.
“Well, a sponsor did just send Felicia of one a rain jacket so I doubt it.” Septimus grins. “Maybe the swamp used to be the desert.”
Cinna glares. “Hilarious.”
“The bets on her to win are getting quite high.”
“Sorry, Septimus,” Cinna says watching Mara trudge through the knee high muck, “You’re stuck with district five now.”
The activity around the betting tables starts to rise, Septimus is correct about that. With twelve tributes dead, the competition is halved and the return on bets doubles. Felicia is at the head with three deaths to her personal credit at the moment on the board; Blake Hardin of one and Lacey Marks of two tie after her with two a piece. The mentors and their escorts weave through the crowd encouraging sponsors to favor their tribute. Bliss points out Mara’s clever uses of the vines while Alexa emphasizes how quickly Mara continues to move despite her ankle. Cinna watches the two of them work their magic. He hopes they convince someone to put their money behind her. Mara has lasted for three days now.
“Do you think they’ll be able to -”
“Oh dear.”
Cinna turns to Septimus. “What?”
Septimus points with his one hand holding a wine glass up to the main screen now featuring Mara. She walks through the swap, stick in her hand to test the depth before each step she takes. However, behind her they see someone stalking her hidden by the rain.
“Oh no, Mara turn around,” Cinna whispers.
It’s a boy; Cinna can’t really tell who. He follows about ten feet behind her, any noise of his feet in the swap masked by the rain. Alexa perks up and runs over to the main screen, Bliss right behind her.
“Shit,” Cinna puts a hand against his mouth, “turn around Mara!”
Mara keeps walking then stops beside a tree. Cinna remembers her food supplies are low and before she even takes off her backpack he knows she plans to climb the tree and have a look. This will give the boy following her an opening.
“Don’t, Mara, just look behind you for one minute.”
Septimus puts a hand on Cinna’s shoulder. “It’s all right.”
“Shut up.” Cinna wishes he could shout so she could hear, wishes he could warn her.
Mara takes off her backpack and hangs it by one of the straps on a low branch. She shakes her head, wiping some hair off of her face slick with rain.
“It’s Adam,” Septimus says, “from district eight.”
Mara smiles for once moment as she gazes up the tree, looking for a hand hold. Then Adam pulls a knife from his boot and throws it through the air. It flies perfectly and slams into Mara’s back. She smacks into the tree in front of her, voice choked off before she even screams. Her fingers clutch at the bark weakly, eyes staring ahead. Then she slips down the tree and crumples into the water, sinking below the surface as if she were never there.
Cinna closes his eyes and breathes slowly in and out. He hears a few people cheer and Bliss’ voice saying something consoling to Alexa.
“Tch, such a shame, Septimus.” It’s Clava. “At least we still have one tribute from our district in the game.”
“Keep an eye on him then, Clava,” Septimus says, “Adam there might come for Archer too.”
“Well, you won’t be designing any Victory Tour outfits, Mr. Moran.” Cinna opens his eyes to see Clava smiling smugly.
Cinna frowns deeply and crosses his arms. “And you won’t be a stylist much longer with the way you design, Clava, so save your boasting.”
Septimus’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Clava’s mouth drops open. Cinna smiles once at Septimus then turns and stalks away. If only Cinna did not care so much.
‘Goodbye, Mara,’ he thinks.
It does not really matter how the games turn out now.
Fandom: The Hunger Games
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games nor am I earning any financial gains from this work, I am simply taking them out to play.
Pairing/Characters: Cinna; Finnick Odair, Haymitch Abernathy, Cecelia, OCs
Word Count: 11,079
Rating: R
Summary: It is very uncommon, some would say utterly unattainable, for anyone to live in a district different from that which they were born... But not impossible. The life of Cinna Bell before the 74th Hunger Games.
Chapter 3, the 71st Hunger Games.
Warnings: Violence and death
Author notes: I took a slight liberty in that Cinna says to Katniss its his first time at the games. I have bended this to mean it is his first time as a main stylist at the games, not his first year involved. Also, have no fear, this story is almost completely written and all plotted out so it is not something which will be left unfinished! (Title from "England," The National) EDIT: I decided to cast my story!
CHAPTER 1 - District 8
CHAPTER 2 - The Capitol
CHAPTER 3 - PART 1
Cross posted at: AO3
Cinna takes the main transport to the Arena Game Headquarters with the few people left. Septimus will see Mara off right before she goes up into the arena. Cinna hopes Septimus says something helpful to her.
At the main hall of the headquarters sponsors already line up, putting money down with the betting managers for tributes they hope to win. Half of the room is walled by screens ready to display the games. There are stations for placing bets as well as ordering items to send to specific tributes. At least a dozen people man each post ready to take money by the hand fulls. Three booths to one side hold attendants ready to answer phones from anyone else in the Capitol or the districts prepared to buy tribute gifts or place bets. The room also contains other forms of entertainment, a corner with a square dance floor and some bouncy music to fill any lulls in killing. There is also an assortment of food; the theme for the day seems to be exotic fruits and cooked birds.
“Are you excited?” Cinna turns to see one of Mara’s prep girls standing beside him.
“Excuse me?”
“I always love the start, that sixty seconds when they stand there and everything is silent.” She grins. “Amazing!”
Cinna only nods. “We’ll see.”
Then the announcer blares, “Happy Hunger Games!”
The screens burst to life to show a lush jungle scene, tall twisting trees and thick vines everywhere. The tributes begin to appear on their circles from the ground.
[Cora standing still with no smile on her face, running toward the backpack...]
Cinna breathes in slowly and shakes his head, focuses on the screens and finds Mara. The usual backpacks litter the ground along with knives, axes, long sheers, and a couple of cross bows.
“I can’t wait,” the little purple haired girl squeaks.
Then the count down reaches 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and the tributes spring to life. Mara races off her circle straight for a backpack a few feet away. She skids to her knees on the slippery vine covered ground and grabs the backpack. Suddenly, a knife lands right beside her knee. Mara gasps and springs up again, throwing the backpack over her shoulders. She turns in place and makes for the jungle. Another knife whizzes by her and catches her arm. Mara groans in pain but does not stop running, obvious adrenaline fueling her. She hits the edge of the jungle then tumbles in and down.
The main screen stays on the blood spurts at the Cornucopia but one of the smaller screens follows Mara in the jungle as she suddenly begins to fall. The ground tilts sharply where she’d hit the tree line, completely masked before by all the vines. Mara grunts and rolls over and over down the hill, hitting branches and vines as she goes until her hand catches one vine, stopping her frenzied fall.
“Okay, okay,” she gasps hard and pulls her self up. The ground behind her seems to fall for several more yards before leveling out again. “Oh, crap...”
Mara takes a few slow breathes. She looks up and grabs for another vine. She pulls down on it. Nothing happens. She pulls a few more times, yanking harder and harder until it finally breaks and a long coil falls down. Mara wraps one end around the tree beside her, tying a double knot of a kind Cinna does not recognize. Then she ties the other end around her waist.
“Oh good, Mara,” Cinna whispers.
Then Mara carefully holds onto the end of the vine closest to the tree and walks herself down the rest of the steep hill. About four feet above the flat surface her vine reaches its limit. Mara struggles to undo the now tight knot but finally she breaks a sharp piece of bark from a tree, saws her way through the vine and drops the rest of the way to the level ground.
“Clever.” Cinna turns to see Septimus standing beside him now. “She has a bit more smarts than I’d thought.”
Cinna grins back. “So maybe she has a chance?”
“Maybe she won’t die today,” Septimus replies quietly.
Light begins to fall for the tributes in the arena, the cornucopia blood bath over and most of the remaining tributes trudging through the jungle. The phones ring constantly, money still moving, while one screen displays a list of deaths and kills, predictions as to next to die and likely to win.
“Ten dead at the cornucopia!” One of the betting attendants shouts. “Collect your winnings for ten dead at the cornucopia!”
A few people cheer in excitement while a lot more groan with disappointment.
“They bet on that?” Cinna hisses to Septimus.
“Oh, this is only the beginning, Cinna.”
Cinna huffs. “Are you betting?”
“As a stylist, I am not allowed.”
“That’s probably a good thing.”
Septimus raises his eyebrows at Cinna. Cinna shrugs. “I’m sure you’d bet wrong.”
“Like on a career?”
“Like on whoever has the best hair.”
Septimus chuckles then points toward the tables along the wall. “Dinner? There won’t be much going on for a while and you should eat. I don’t want you to survive only on worry here.”
Cinna shakes his head. “Don’t patronize me.”
“You know I’m not. I am always full of concern for you.”
“Ever the dutiful employer.”
“Aren’t you glad I actually started paying you?”
Cinna laughs. “In fact I am.”
The two turn and head over to the tables of food. Cinna understands the mango and fried parrot trend now of the meal. He knows he shouldn’t but Cinna finds it funny. Cinna focuses on something which looks close to chicken and some bread. He’s never quite been able to eat so lavishly all the time as everyone else in the Capitol does. Cinna checks the screens, nothing showing Mara at the moment which means where ever in the jungle she is, she is safe.
“Eat, Cinna, while you still have the will,” Septimus coaxes.
“I’m going to break your favorite sewing machine if you don’t stop mother henning me.”
Septimus huffs. “Yes, sir.”
Ten minutes later Cinna puts his empty plate aside and turns around to see a set of beautiful blue-green eyes only inches away.
“Fancy a dance?”
“I... well, I...”
“All right then,” the man steps back and takes Cinna’s hand.
It is only as his fingers curl around Cinna’s that he realizes the eyes belong to Finnick Odair, victor of the 65th Hunger Games. Cinna isn’t usually one that swoons at the dashing smile or the swoop of long hair, but Finnick? Well, Finnick makes it hard for anyone not to fall at his feet.
They walk out onto the dance floor, a sort of salsa type song playing, and Finnick leads the way.
“So?” Finnick asks as he wraps his arms around Cinna, “What’s your name?”
“Cinna.”
“Cinna?”
“Cinna Bell,” Cinna clarifies, “I work for Septimus, one of the stylists for five.”
Finnick gives Cinna an odd look for a moment then his smile flashes back into place. “Got yourself an invitation to the fun?”
Cinna tilts his head. “Well... I was helping with his tribute a bit as well.”
“Ooo,” Finnick shakes his head. “Lucky boy! Makes you a bit like the prep teams?”
Cinna laughs as Finnick turns them to the left to the music, “I suppose.”
“I’ve never seen you before, Cinna.”
“Septimus is new.”
“Hmm, yes, but I mean ever.”
Cinna frowns. “Would you expect to?”
Finnack makes a charming ‘oh I don’t know’ sort of face. “Perhaps not, but these types of people are usually buzzing around here all the time even when they aren’t on the ‘staff’ so you get to recognize people.”
“Well, like I said, new.”
“Very new and very different.”
Cinna blinks with confusion and Finnick suddenly dips Cinna down to a crest in the music then pulls him back up to dance even closer.
“What do you mean?” Cinna manages, suspicion growing at the point of this dance. Finnick is known as the gorgeous flirt of all the tributes, the one who already has a list of Capitol lovers, but Cinna thinks this is something else. “What do you mean different?”
“Well, look at you,” Finnick explains, his hand sliding from Cinna’s side to flat against his lower back. “You dress in a simple black suit, just a dark purple shirt, normal hair and only the gold eye liner to jazz it up. Compared to everyone else here you are positively drab.”
Cinna watches Finnick as he moves them back and forth over the dance floor. He realizes what this is; it’s a test, an analysis. Cinna does not quite fit in despite his years of acclimation and, as someone from a district, Finnick can see.
“I let my work have all the ‘jazz,’ as you put it,” Cinna offers in explanation. “No need to overshadow my own creations.”
Finnick purses his lips but his eyes still search Cinna’s face. “Well, then.”
“Does that surprise you so much, Finnick? There is quite a variety of people here in the Capitol.”
“Oh, yes, there certainly is.”
The salsa song ends and a small group of people clap. Cinna thinks for a moment that they are applauding the music when he notices Finnick make an elaborate bow to their right. He sees about half a dozen people at the edge of the dance floor watching them, all eyes on Finnick. He winks for a finish then turns back to Cinna.
“You interest me Cinna Bell.”
“I do?”
Finnick nods. “I haven’t put my finger on it yet.”
Cinna clears his throat and glances away looking for Septimus. Finnick is as stunning a man as Cinna could ever hope to take interest in him but this is not that kind of interest. This feels like Finnick is trying to pry open Cinna’s head and burrow inside.
“I imagine you need to get back to your tribute,” Cinna says, wanting Finnick to take the out and free Cinna from scrutiny.
“Actually, Lawrence is already dead.” Cinna blinks rapidly. “Somehow Megan Till from eleven got an opening when Laurie was stabbing the little one from six. A surprise but too late now.”
Cinna can’t figure out if Finnick is really that cavalier about his tribute’s life or if the whole thing is just an act to set Cinna off balance.
“Thank you for the dance,” Cinna says then turns and escapes.
Finnick Odair makes Cinna nervous.
The night sees another death in the arena, the boy from twelve caught by Tonia from four, but nothing new for Mara. The main show finds her for a short while making herself a camp site among the vines but interest changes to follow the career pack picking the cornucopia clean and prowling the jungle. Cinna spots Alexa pacing in front of her private screen. (Each of the mentors get small screens which track just their tribute). Cinna wonders if Alexa knew Mara personally before the Games. Cinna watches a few feet behind Alexa as Mara wipes sweat from her brow and smacks mosquitoes.
“I hope those don’t turn out to be poisonous or something,” Alexa mutters.
“Cinna,” Septimus touches his shoulder, “I think perhaps that is enough for the evening.”
Cinna looks down at his watch to see the time past midnight. He groans, “Wow...”
“We will be back early tomorrow so it would be good to sleep.”
“Always the smart one, Septimus.”
The next day rain starts to pour in the arena jungle. Though the cameras stay clear, the visibility for the tributes obviously drops by half. One of the tributes from three walks straight into a wall of vines so thick he gets so tangled he strangles himself to death. The rain also brings out a new foe for the tributes, snakes and lizards three times their normal size.
“I hate lizards,” Mara pants as she struggles up a tree to escape three lizards chasing her.
Cinna watches her on a side screen, Septimus beside him, “I wish I could send her an umbrella.”
Septimus snorts. “So she could get it caught in the vines and fall back to the lizards?”
“How about an umbrella with a sword in it?”
“Elegant, we’ll have to sell them at the Boutique.”
Suddenly Mara gasps and she flashes onto the main screen. The tree is so slick with the rain and the vines she slides back down, arms knocking branches. She grabs one, nails digging into the wood, and her feet dangle just above the lizards.
Money starts to fly out of pockets and a dozen people dash over to the betting stands.
“Fifty for the lizards to kill her!” One man snaps so animatedly the whole room can hear.
Cinna clenches his fists as one lizard jumps up and snaps at her, catching her ankle. She screams and kicks back at him, nailing the creature in the face and blood spurting from both their wounds. Mara gasps, hands slipping, and kicks again so the lizard falls to the ground. The other two lizards ignore Mara and suddenly start to devour the wounded lizard. Mara pulls herself up and steps with her good foot onto a higher branch. She pulls another vine and wraps it around her good ankle using the friction to pull herself up further.
“Just a little higher.” Mara’s fingers slip, almost falling again but she manages to sit herself on a higher branch and leans back against the truck, hissing with pain.
Cinna waits for a new horror but the lizards keep destroying their comrade and Mara stays solid on her branch. Safe again.
Cinna glances over to Alexa and sees her talking to a pair of sponsors, big smile on her face. Perhaps she is already planning ahead to cajole a sponsor into sending Mara medicine should the bite become infected. Cinna starts imagining all sorts of horrible things to happen. Perhaps the lizard’s bites are poisonous and she’ll fall out of the tree dead any minute? Maybe the infected wound starts to rot and she’ll have to cut off her foot? Maybe the rain will never stop and she’ll drown or slip again and break her neck or the vines will fight back?
“Stop thinking so hard.”
Cinna ignores Septimus and stares at the screen where Mara pulls off her shoe to inspect her ankle.
“Really, Cinna, I doubt she’ll die from that.”
“Shut up, Septimus.”
Cinna did not expect to become so attached to Mara.
The highlight of day two luckily is not Mara’s brush with the mutant lizards but the fight between Kipper of district six and Clark of district nine. Though Clark only received a four training score, when Kipper jumps down from a tree obviously thinking she would get a quick kill Clark reacts instantly grabbing her by the wrist and slamming her onto the ground. The two grapple back and forth, pinning each other and landing punches, as the rain makes sure they are coated in mud. Clark pulls a knife and stabs her in the shoulder. However, Kipper throws him off and gets the knife from him, slashing him across the face. After a few more trades of the knife and some violent slamming into trees as they fight, Clark gets a vine around her and pulls her tight against a tree. Kipper struggles but Clark only pulls the vine tighter each time she moves.
“Fine. Come on then!” Kipper shouts.
Clark stabs her in the throat and leaves her tied to the tree, the rain washing her clean. The betting tables are awash with unhappy losers and one very pleased woman who happened to bet against the odds.
Day three Cinna meets Cecelia from district eight.
The morning begins slowly with no new deaths. The rain keeps coming and crocodiles appear in the jungle sending tributes climbing up into trees. Mara hikes through the jungle, gathering strong vines and putting them in her backpack as she searches for food.
As the day goes on, Cinna finds himself recognizing someone new among the mentors each in front of their own screen. Cinna isn’t sure at first why he unconsciously focused on her then he realizes it is Cecelia, one of victors from eight. Cinna feels a pang of old homesickness and walks over to her.
“Hi,” Cinna holds out his hand, “Cinna Bell, would you… that is…” Cinna shakes his head, “is your tribute doing well?”
Cecelia smiles softly with a nod. “He still seems to be going well. Good to meet you Cinna. Which district are you with?”
Cinna points over at Alexa and Septimus. “Five, just this year.”
“Ah.” She nods again. “Welcome to the Games.”
Cinna laughs. “Do you… do you enjoy coming to the Capitol? A big change from district eight I’d imagine?”
“Oh my yes, quite different.” Cecelia glances at the screen then back to Cinna. “I’m here to help, of course, my job as a mentor.”
“You don’t come every year though, yes? There are other victors?”
“A few.” Cecelia points to a man near the food tables. “Vance goes most years but I have children so I trade off.”
Cinna smiles. “Oh, you do?”
“Three.”
Cinna blinks again and feels his face fall slightly because that’s his family now too. Just three.
“How is it back in eight?” Cinna asks. “Are things… good?”
Cecelia gives him an odd look. “Uh, well, yes…”
“Oh, good, yes, very good.”
“Why do you ask?”
Cinna shrugs. “Oh, no reason really. I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time when you have a tribute to keep track of. Good luck.”
Cinna turns and flees, kicking himself in his head. What was he thinking? He just looked odd and suspicious. Of course no one from the Capitol would genuinely ask about life in the districts, ‘how things were.’ Cinna was stupid. He needs to remember that despite the time only one person here knows of his past and it wouldn’t be so smart so just go exposing himself now.
Cinna makes his way back to Septimus, half hiding behind him with shame. “Septimus, I think sometimes you need to keep a better eye on me.”
Septimus sips his drink and watches the screen. “You can talk to Cecelia Halise all you please Cinna. I see no officials coming to lock you up so stop worrying so.”
Cinna should have known Septimus has eyes in the back of his head. “That’s a comfort.”
“And dear Mara is still hiking strong.”
“Good to hear.” That, in fact, actually is a comfort.
Mara dies the next day.
Mara makes her way out of the jungle and into the swamp. Cinna really shouldn’t be surprised by such odd environment connections.
“Do they have a desert in there too?” Cinna grumbles.
“Well, a sponsor did just send Felicia of one a rain jacket so I doubt it.” Septimus grins. “Maybe the swamp used to be the desert.”
Cinna glares. “Hilarious.”
“The bets on her to win are getting quite high.”
“Sorry, Septimus,” Cinna says watching Mara trudge through the knee high muck, “You’re stuck with district five now.”
The activity around the betting tables starts to rise, Septimus is correct about that. With twelve tributes dead, the competition is halved and the return on bets doubles. Felicia is at the head with three deaths to her personal credit at the moment on the board; Blake Hardin of one and Lacey Marks of two tie after her with two a piece. The mentors and their escorts weave through the crowd encouraging sponsors to favor their tribute. Bliss points out Mara’s clever uses of the vines while Alexa emphasizes how quickly Mara continues to move despite her ankle. Cinna watches the two of them work their magic. He hopes they convince someone to put their money behind her. Mara has lasted for three days now.
“Do you think they’ll be able to -”
“Oh dear.”
Cinna turns to Septimus. “What?”
Septimus points with his one hand holding a wine glass up to the main screen now featuring Mara. She walks through the swap, stick in her hand to test the depth before each step she takes. However, behind her they see someone stalking her hidden by the rain.
“Oh no, Mara turn around,” Cinna whispers.
It’s a boy; Cinna can’t really tell who. He follows about ten feet behind her, any noise of his feet in the swap masked by the rain. Alexa perks up and runs over to the main screen, Bliss right behind her.
“Shit,” Cinna puts a hand against his mouth, “turn around Mara!”
Mara keeps walking then stops beside a tree. Cinna remembers her food supplies are low and before she even takes off her backpack he knows she plans to climb the tree and have a look. This will give the boy following her an opening.
“Don’t, Mara, just look behind you for one minute.”
Septimus puts a hand on Cinna’s shoulder. “It’s all right.”
“Shut up.” Cinna wishes he could shout so she could hear, wishes he could warn her.
Mara takes off her backpack and hangs it by one of the straps on a low branch. She shakes her head, wiping some hair off of her face slick with rain.
“It’s Adam,” Septimus says, “from district eight.”
Mara smiles for once moment as she gazes up the tree, looking for a hand hold. Then Adam pulls a knife from his boot and throws it through the air. It flies perfectly and slams into Mara’s back. She smacks into the tree in front of her, voice choked off before she even screams. Her fingers clutch at the bark weakly, eyes staring ahead. Then she slips down the tree and crumples into the water, sinking below the surface as if she were never there.
Cinna closes his eyes and breathes slowly in and out. He hears a few people cheer and Bliss’ voice saying something consoling to Alexa.
“Tch, such a shame, Septimus.” It’s Clava. “At least we still have one tribute from our district in the game.”
“Keep an eye on him then, Clava,” Septimus says, “Adam there might come for Archer too.”
“Well, you won’t be designing any Victory Tour outfits, Mr. Moran.” Cinna opens his eyes to see Clava smiling smugly.
Cinna frowns deeply and crosses his arms. “And you won’t be a stylist much longer with the way you design, Clava, so save your boasting.”
Septimus’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Clava’s mouth drops open. Cinna smiles once at Septimus then turns and stalks away. If only Cinna did not care so much.
‘Goodbye, Mara,’ he thinks.
It does not really matter how the games turn out now.