Never In Your Favour

Parade

After the dimly lit comfort of Tigris's chambers, the harsh white light of the corridors and finally the site of the chariots was a stark contrast that sent me blinking and stumbling forwards. The stench of sterile nothingness kicked in, and all I could think of was what I was sure to look like at the end of the games - gaunt and stretched on a slab in some Capitol morgue, as the lines rang in from any sponsors I had procured, expressing outrage at my early demise. It felt like the wave suspended above my head had come crashing down to drown me, and if I couldn't tread water for long enough, I'd be sure to sink. I slipped in my unfamiliar high heeled blue shoes, wobbling like a new-born foal taking its first steps. Just managing to prevent myself from hurtling to the floor, I smoothed down the fabric of my dress, and tilted my head to the ceiling, shutting my eyes tight.
'Annie this is going to happen either way.' I thought to myself.
'It's all about the show.'
Having set off towards the parade grounds, I looked around as other tributes began to pour into the waiting area from all sides to congregate around their two wheeled chariots. The mentors, too, were there, waiting to escort their tributes to the parade. Finnick was stuck looking exceedingly irritated by Harley's incessant whining for attention, so I gave a small cough, to signify my arrival.
When he turned, time seemed to warp out of all recognition for him. He stammered and stuttered for a moment.
'I...'
'You?' I replied, giggling for a moment and smiling at him.
'You look stunning Annie. I mean, you always do but it's like... an amazing thing turned even better, if that were even possible.'
'Oh for goodness sake Finnick calm down, she looks ever so plain.' Interjected Harley.
Would I get destroyed in the games if I punched that woman?
Probably.
Did I come close in that moment?
Definitely.
Finnick, taking the moral high ground as usual, merely ignored Harley, and took my hand, beginning to escort me to the chariot calmly and slowly.
'Whatever you're feeling out there, never show you're scared. Smile, look sexy, I know you don't want to but you have to survive out there. Look amused by the whole thing, I don't care, but never show your fear. It's their greatest weapon' he said, gesturing to the tributes around us.
A loud voice came from the ether above, booming out into the waiting area:
'All tributes to their chariots, the parade will commence shortly.'
Suddenly, through the double doors leading to the tribute centre burst Starl, clad in a blue tunic and trousers, simple yet effective at creating the illusion of waves due to the silky fabric. We almost looked like a team.
It's a shame no such thing really existed in the games.
'Sorry, sorry have I missed it? My tunic wouldn't get on and-'
'Calm down, calm down Starl' said Finnick, crossing to the frightened boy and kneeling in front of him, taking his trembling hands.
'You haven't missed it, and Annie is right there waiting for you in the chariot. Do you think you're ready to go?'
The boy nodded, and let himself be taken over to the chariot by Finnick. I could see other tributes snickering from their chariots, especially the other careers. I even saw one of them draw his hand across his neck at Starl, as a direct threat of murder. It was chilling.
We were just kids.
I looked down at the golden spear at my feet and took hold of it with a trembling hand.
I looked to Finnick as he smiled and nodded, and steeled myself, pinning on a smile as the great gates opened, and the roar of the anthem began to assault my ears.
With a stamp and a snort, the first pair of horses trotted out into the great parade ground. Full of themselves as ever, the career tributes played the 'this is simply beneath me' card, staring austerely into the swooning and cheering masses that made up the 'adoring crowd'. When I looked up at the faceless hoards, their features nullified by the glare of coloured lighting, I saw crows: carrion birds who were circling to feed off our deaths and talk of nothing other than the ways in which we murdered each other for months after the games. They'd be the same 'faces' every year, laughing at a new host of children who were already really dead.
When our chariot glided down the parade road, a roar came up from the crowd: clearly my dress had made an impact. I could even faintly hear Caesar Flickerman's praise coming faintly over the speakers in the tumult.
'And here we have the district four tributes, and my have their stylists outdone themselves this year! See how Starl's costume ripples like the waves of the district's seas - but talking of waves, would you look at Annie Cresta's beautiful 'crest', as it were? HA! Many have said that Tigris is losing her touch, and although her own looks have certainly slipped far away, I think we can all agree there's magic in her claws yet!'
God that man irritated me. To talk about Tigris with such disrespect... I glared up at his box. An idea struck me- an interesting way to play this game would be to treat it with utter glee: something of a manic thrill for the blood hunt. If I truly treated it as a game, I thought, maybe it wouldn't feel so horrific.
Eventually, each chariot was positioned in a line in front of Snow's great podium, as the anthem died away.
Snow didn't look like a leader to me. I had always found him to look both arrogant and frail simultaneously, through the latter was due in part to his age. Despite his failing body, he walked with a pronounced strut. He was clearly a man who absolutely believed himself to be better than all those around him. I gripped my spear tighter in an effort to stop myself from launching it directly at him.
'Tributes' he boomed over the speakers, 'esteemed Capitol citizens and sponsors of the 70th annual Hunger Games. You sit tonight at the turning point between one decade and another of Panem's reminder of authority and justice. It was a war none of us will ever forget, and, tributes, we hope that by the death of all but one of you, it will remain a mistake that the people of your districts will not easily disregard.' He spoke with a stern expression, measuring out each of his words with absolute accuracy and a methodical and psychopathic coolness. I could sense Starl shaking with fear beside me, and a brief glance around informed me that the other tributes had seen his reaction too. I could see the career tributes grinning and nodding at each other: Starl was sure to be a target as soon as the games began. Despite naturally wanting to win, a part of me felt an immense duty to protect the boy. He was so young after all, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to ensure he made it out alive. I therefore decided to protect him whenever I could, yet I still secretly hoped someone would kill one of us rather than it coming down to us as the final two.
Our chariots began to move again, and soon we were in another foyer area, with all the mentors rushing up to greet us. Finnick came a little after the rest of the crowd, running, concerned that he was too late. As I disembarked the chariot, he arrived, pulling me into a quick but tight hug when nobody was looking. Harley, too arrived, her lips pursed at the smile that graced Finnick's face when he saw me. Mags gave Starl a cheery thumbs up, and the atmosphere felt generally surprisingly lighthearted for a group of people who were feeling the effects of impending doom.
'Right,' rang Harley's shrill voice, 'you should be getting to sleep immediately. Your training begins tomorrow, and you'll certainly benefit from some exercise. Mentors, you'll accompany tributes to their rooms then retire to your adjoining quarters.'
Finnick looked at me with a smile, before speaking
'This way Miss Cresta, I'll escort you to your cabin.'
Harley rolled her eyes and made some irritating comment about how Finnick didn't need to be so formal.
We walked through the winding halls of the tribute centre, until we reached a room with my name on the door.
'Now I'll just be a walk away,' said Finnick, pointing at his own door which was directly next to mine.
'See? I'm in an adjoining room.'
'Will you stay with me tonight?' I asked, showing my fear in the absence of cameras.
'Oh, Annie' he replied, looking incredibly guilty and a little angry. 'I have a fucking client this evening and I need to keep the appointment if you're even going to have a chance at getting the sponsors you'll need. I'm so sorry. I may be able to come in tomorrow night. I'll damn try regardless, ok?'
'Finnick, you don't need to sell yourself for my sake. I can't bear the thought of... you know...'
'I know but... it's not like either of us have a real choice in the matter.'
With that, he looked around, before holding my face in his hand and kissing me softly.
'Goodnight Annie' he whispered as he disappeared into his own room for the night.