Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑁 ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴏғ ᴡɪsᴅᴏᴍ
❦
Cillian thought the screens might've made him feel out of touch from the games. But, staring up at the vast expanse of darkness, he could almost feel the heat on his own skin. He had to squint, looking up at the veins of neon orange that decorated the ground, stretching as far as the camera would allow them to see. There was not a single tribute in sight as the drone panned across the scene.
Eirlys had a drink in her hand, as she so often did. She seemed delighted by the screens, sprouting on about how exciting the arena was this year. 'So much more fun than yours, Cillian, what was it again, snow?' He paid her no mind, not bothering to tell her that his games had been suffocated by a drier type of heat, an expanse of sand.
The training centre was empty of mentors and district representatives. Only the sponsors and highest esteemed Capitol civilians flooded the cinema room of the training centre. Their outfits came in an array of colours, all themed toward their favoured districts. Eirlys had chosen to keep closed lips when it came to informing them that it was little use for the mentors to attend the initial screenings, as many had chosen not to do. Only Finnick stood watching the screen, alone for once and with poor, stooped posture. Haymitch also sat at the furthest corner of the room, nursing a complimentary drink, looking as if he was putting himself through voluntary torture.
"We need more sponsors," Johanna said, finally turning from the screen and nudging him in the arm. Cillian nodded in agreement. "And we're not going to get them here. Look at them, they're delighted. We'll not get a word out of them."
"I have a suggestion," Felix said, interrupting their conversation.
It was the first Cillian had heard him speak in a while. His voice was deep and velvety, matching the maturity of his face. Again, he was dressed more simply in comparison to the Capital styles, wearing a cotton blue tunic that reached mid-thigh and a golden shimmer across his eyes to match.
"I know of a party happening to celebrate the beginning of the games, this evening," he began, watching Eirlys from the corner of his eye. Cillian wondered if this was secret knowledge. "To the best of my knowledge, there will be only a few other mentors there. It will be a prime opportunity."
A room full of capitol drunks... what better way to gain sponsors?
How Felix had arranged the excursion to the party that night, Cillian didn't know, but nor did he wish to ask. It was perhaps the falsest type of freedom that Cillian would ever experience, but he made the most of it all the same. With Eirlys not invited and Felix unlikely to tell, he let the cool slip of alcohol breach his throat, tasting the bubbly sweetness of wine fill his stomach. This was the closest to a party he would ever get. It may have been the engineered, purposeful kind, that was designed to get the sponsors in one place with the mentors, but there was music, and dancing, and laughing. Cillian didn't care who the noise came from. He just liked the sound of it.
