it was always you

the sixth

The rest of the tour went semi-smoothly. The pair of Victors read the cards provided, following the rules given to them by Effie and Haymitch. However, in Districts Ten through Three, the crowds always ended up beaten, the three finger salute made its way across the nation, giving one thing. Hope. This was a concerning fact, it would lead to unwanted deaths, but also a world more equal and safe, free from being forced into a slaughter

For the Districts, it was motivation, but to a select few in the Capitol, it was a problem. In the white office of the President himself, it was the largest issue he'd have faced while in office. Motivation would lead to a life he once knew. One where poor Capitol children are starved, forced to watch their parents die, forced to live off cabbage soup and not the luxuries they know.

"You see this, Heavensbee? They're revolting," Snow's snake-like eyes were fixated on the screen across from him. Numerous videos of small moments from the pair of Victors' Victory Tour play, filling it with views of fires, the salute, and that damned bird. "We need to stop this."

"Isn't Crane's kid sister with the boy?" The other voice, Plutarch Heavensbee, asked, not waiting for the answer he already knows. "We get her and Peeta's relationship plastered everywhere. And when they're least expecting: bam, we show hangings, beatings, and even shootings. Make the rebels associate hope with fear."

"I'll tell my advisors about our change of plans. Just remember one thing, in due time, the boy is to be kept safe, away from harm's reach."

Standing without a word leaving his mouth, the graying man left the office, his mind fixated on thoughts of rebellion. One that would be inevitable, and his one goal would be to stay on the winning side, as of the upcoming moments that would be with the Districts. It was a safe assumption to make that Plutarch Heavensbee was much like his namesake's once famous work. A book where traditionalism changed from honor into civil wars. Much akin to the man now, Heavensbee was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, yet at the prospect of winning the spoon drops.

—

"Remember you need to be on your best behavior, keep your chins up, backs straight, and smiles on your teeth!" Effie's high pitched voice instructs the two Victors on their way into the party. "I'm not talking about you Peeta, you are perfect as you are!"

Rolling her eyes at the words Katniss realizes the absolute waste everything is. Apologizing to the families of the children she murdered, and finishing the week with a party being congratulated for it all. She hated it. She hates the fact that Peeta acts as if the games never happened while she's the one reliving the games every night.

"Katniss, are you going to be fine if I go see Mara? She's over there by the table of food." The boy wasn't asking permission, rather stating his future actions in an unsure way. Only wanting to know that the dark haired girl would swim rather than sink.

"Go ahead."

At her words, the love-struck boy ran off to a blonde girl in a pink dress. A simple figure standing out through the crowd. A girl not quite Capitol but not quite District, calling over her boyfriend and catching him in her arms, despite the fact they saw each other not an hour ago.

"Love is horrid right?" A low voice asked behind the judgmental hot-headed teen.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

Before the man could answer, a shrill voice beat him to it, "Katniss, this is Plutarch Heavensbee, this year's head Gamemaker! Go on! Dance with him!"

Whilst glaring at the pink covered woman, Katniss hesitantly grabbed the man's hand as he led her to the floor. The teen hated dancing, never using it in Twelve