Die for You | Catching Fire

chapter one

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chapter one
SECRETS IN THE GARDEN

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tw: mentions of sex trafficking/forced prostitution

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Her mother always called her restless. Never accepting a nap when it was time to sleep as a baby, little fingers always reaching for something to hold (usually something breakable and antique, passed down from a million grandmothers), and legs always wandering off somewhere she shouldn't be. Sage was just not one to stay still. When she did stay still, her mind couldn't, always spinning like a clever and efficient machine— sometimes a worrisome one.

Right now, Sage feels restless. She tugs at the hem of her skin-tight dress, picking at the feathers over and over only to smooth them again. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she peers out through the limousine at the lively streets of The Capitol. She's brought back to the first time she ever saw them, peering down from her floor of the Tribute Center and wondering which ones were rooting for her to live and which ones were rooting for her to die.

"What's the matter, darling?" Tatiana asks suddenly with her clear, crisp voice. Her stylist side-glances the Victor as she adjusts her lip liner with a careful finger.

Sage starts, snapped out of her gaze with a blush blossoming across her cheeks. A shaky sigh as she rubs her sweaty palms along her freshly shaven thighs again. "Oh. Just keeps riding up when I sit like this, that's all."

Her stylist grins, her lips the color of a plum. She pats Sage on the thigh encouragingly. "Don't worry. You've got the legs for it."

Annoyance ripples through the young girl at that, and she forces another hesitant smile, nodding. Neither Tatiana nor her Escort Philo Forbes are known for being the tactful or empathetic type. They're as ignorant and oblivious as the Capitol citizens come. In their own little minds they mean well, but even their good intentions manage to prick and prod at the people of District Ten's thick skin.

It's been eight months since the moment that crowned Sage a Victor, the Seventy-Third Games approaching in a few short months. And despite her Victory tour long being over, she has been summoned to the Capitol once again. For what, she's not sure, but she cannot seem to shake this uncomfortable dread that has coiled in her gut like a rattlesnake. The nerves keep her from settling as she grows weary with anticipation with each roll of the limousine's tires.

Across from her, her Escort Philo chugs another glass of champagne, stifling a burp from all the bubbles. A little glass of bubbly for when you're feeling a little bubbly, as he would say. Sage assumes that means he's nervous too. Their call to The Capitol was a surprise as well, it not being often a Victor of District Ten and their team are beckoned for anything but their Victory Tour and the annual Hunger Games to mentor the next crop of tributes. Although, both Philo and Tatiana seem more thrilled than frightened. Of course they would. They have nothing to fear. Not when they're from The Capitol.

Exhaling shortly through her nose, Sage reaches her manicured nails towards her mouth. Before she can anxiously bite them, Tatiana already slaps her hand back down to her lap. "Mm-mm. They just dried."

Meanwhile, three blocks away, the Gleam Gala has kicked off, Panem's finest jewels on display for all to see. Ptolemus leans over the bar in his gunmetal tuxedo, shoving the empty shot glass away. The burning taste of whiskey singes the back of his throat, and he presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, twisting his eyes shut briefly. He lets out an exasperated breath as he opens them again.