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𝐸𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 ᴄᴀᴘɪᴛᴏʟ ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ
❦
It was horridly selfish to say, but perhaps one of the worst things so far in Cillian's mentorship ordeal was having to see the seventh floor of the training centre again. So much had changed and yet everything felt the same. He felt the anxious dip of his stomach as he stepped from the lift, Johanna and the rest of their group following closely behind.
"Hurry along, get cleaned and dressed," Eirlys said. "Felix and Selene will be joining us for dinner in celebration this evening."
Their floor was much like the Victor's apartment that was kept in the Capitol. Each line of view was filled with something that could be vaguely linked to District Seven, whether it was the oak panelling of the columns that held up the tall ceiling or the twisted vines of ivy that decorated the edges of paintings and half-empty bookcases. The neon lights towards the hallway of bedroom doors were hazed a forest green, replicating the dusty light of the sun beneath a canopy of leaves.
The sign was most likely supposed to be comforting, the last inkling of home before twenty-three of the tributes would be killed, never to see their families again. To Cillian, it was nothing but unnerving, a false and hollow recreation that left him feeling cold. And why should the Capitol care about the children they were sending off to become savages? These were the sons and daughters of the districts they oppressed, the people they called brain-less and beneath. The sole survivor would be used and abused. They didn't care. It was an opportunity for someone, somewhere to show off their design work, if Cillian had to guess.
But the two tributes wondered about the apartment with a look of awe on their faces. Cillian left them to Eirlys' mindless babble as Johanna had done the moment the lift doors had opened.
Cillian had taken Blight's old room. Nothing about it said that the older man had once used it, but it felt as if something still lingered there, as if Blight would return one day to see Cillian sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the last image that'd been chosen to be projected on the single beige wall. Dusted white and towering over the edges of the ceiling, the image was of a lone mountain, a river meandering through the sloping valley below. Perhaps it was the mountains that surrounded the Capitol- Cillian didn't know. But he grasped that it was Blight who chose the image.
Bright lights flickered on automatically when he stepped into the bathroom. Already there was a fresh towel waiting against the heated bars that ran in a circular pattern on the far wall, opposite the floor to ceiling mirror.
When he stepped out of his room, showered and dressed, Eirlys was already waiting, her dress now a deep green and somewhat toned down. Johanna sat to her right beside Felix, who was next to Selene. They were still talking when he entered, but quietened to Johanna's relief, when he sat opposite, the two tributes following shortly afterwards.
