𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 • 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

── 𝟶.𝟶𝟹

─ 𝐓 𝐇 𝐑 𝐄 𝐄 ─

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄. She found she was instantly grateful of her sudden decision to escape Questin's apartment - the scent of blooming roses, straight from one of the President's beautiful state gardens only a minute's walk east, mingled with the fresh July air, and the city seemed to glisten like a galaxy in motion.

Late evening, just after the sun had slipped down below the horizon, was the best time to admire the Capitol. And during Games season, the streets always seemed to go that extra mile.

Fireworks exploded against the night sky, raining golden sparks down upon the sidewalks. At the apartment opposite, Valeria spotted a group of young women in matching peacock blue attire giggling profusely as they aimed what appeared to be a projector at an identical block further down the Corso. Only moments later, a giant image of the boy from District 1 ascending the stage – just as Valeria had witnessed not half an hour previous – surfaced on the white marble.

Almost instantly, a barrage of men who looked to be in their early twenties turned out into the streets, at once both angry and confused. They'd also clearly been drinking – within a couple of seconds, Augustus Braun's godlike features had been marred by a large glass of red wine, hurled at the side of the building. When the fight began to break out, Valeria turned her attention elsewhere.

It was strange, she thought, the way in which her city seemed so poised all year round – the epitome of style and perfection – until that one month of summer when suddenly the only thing that mattered was money, champagne and blood. The real thrill and hype of the fight had been culled off almost entirely during recent years. The only interesting to happen of recent had been Finnick Odair, and even he'd become a scarce commodity over the last couple of months.

Now all Games season really gave anybody was a drinking problem. Not that Valeria would have dared to voice those opinions aloud – she was already unpopular and poor by Capitol standards. She could do without being labelled a District Sympathizer too.

But that wasn't the problem, really. Valeria didn't hate the Games – she hated what they were becoming. A lazy excuse compared to the old tapes they'd played back in school. There was nothing unique about them anymore. It was simply the same old show on repeat.

Stepping up to the silver railing that bordered the balcony, Valeria gave a heavy sigh as she folded her arms atop the metal, staring out across the city. She could still hear the party continuing on the other side of the glass - shouting and cheering, the heavy bass of an electronic track thrumming through the apartment like a heartbeat. As much as she adored her best friend, Questin's soirees were never really her scene – she attended to make him happy, and to keep up appearances in the hope that one day the other guests might not look down upon her so. She doubted things would ever change, but Questin had hope, and she was determined not to shatter that. After all, the two of them had practically been glued at the hip since they were children.

"Shit I'm sorry, I didn't realise there was anybody else out here."

Valeria swivelled on her heels in surprise. The voice had come from the doorway just behind her, but the shadows cast by the building made it impossible to make out more than simply a tall figure in the darkness. It was young, male she decided, and not one she recognised from Questin's small close circle. A outside guest perhaps, or maybe one of the bartenders catching some air. "Oh it's fine, this isn't exactly a private balcony." She mused with a laugh. The mysterious man's echoed back as he stepped into the glow of the strip lights overhead, and Valeria had to fight the sudden gasp which built in her throat.