FAILURE TO COMPLY ┃ f. odair

1.5 unruly beasts

It was highly unorthodox for any tribute to have such a meeting with anyone important in the Capitol before the games, let alone with the president himself. The immediate thought shared among the apartment was that he'd already caught wind of her defiant behaviour towards Priya's circumstances, and that she was about to get severely reprimanded.

However, as two peacekeepers escorted her to the basement level of the Tribute Centre, her worries lessened, if only a little bit. Snow was sat in a room overlooking the training centre below, presumably where the Gamemakers would soon be watching over her and her fellow tributes while they prepared for the games. Two short glasses filled with a brown liquid and ice were placed on the table in front of him. A chair was already half-pulled out, awaiting her presence.

"Whiskey," he informed her, taking a sip of his drink, then nodding for her to do the same. "Don't worry. It's not poisoned. Just a bit stronger than anything you've tried before, I'm sure."

Calypso had nothing to say. She sat silently and took a swig of the drink, trying to hide the coughs that it's bitter flavour produced. Snow regarded this with amusement, letting her settle for a moment before he spoke again.

"I asked you here to discuss your rather loud disapproval of one of the avoxes-"

"My mother," she cut in, making sure the man understood exactly where she stood on the matter. "I disapprove of my mother being forced into a life of silent servitude, yes."

"She was an enemy of the Capitol seeking to incite rebellion," he replied, no hesitation in his voice. A lie, perhaps, but she could detect no hint of one in his expression or his tone. "Priya knew she could never return after she left, all but disgracing herself. When she returned without reasonable explanation, other than that Roman Silva was making dangerous statements, I had to do whatever necessary to ensure she never spoke of such dangerous matters again."

And so the truth was revealed, in the most confusing way possible. Roman had spoken out of turn enough to scare Priya. She fled to the Capitol, whether simple to escape blame or to place the blame herself, it was unclear. But in the end she had changed her mind, and it cost her everything.

"She refused to condemn him, and in doing so only condemned herself," he tried to reason further. "My Capitol is a haven, Miss Silva, a home. And I cannot have these dangerous people breaking chains that were only meant to hold back their bloodthirsty tendencies. Nor, however, can I simply kill my prized creatures. If your father is a threat to me and my people, I will use any force necessary to ensure he remains caged."

"Meaning me and my mother," she discerned.

"Yes."

It was disgusting talk, for Snow to refer to the Victors as little more than animals meant to perform, but he was right in some ways. That was all they were ever reduced to. Yes, they lived comfortable lives in moderate peace, but that didn't change what they were. Domesticated predators.

"Tell me, what do you think is the purpose of the games?" he asked, once again carrying the conversation, swaying it in whichever direction he so chose.

Calypso had to think long and hard about her answer, because he said it as if it was a trick question. Her most honest answer would be that there was no purpose to the games beyond cruelty, but no Capitol citizen, let alone the president, was going to see it that way

"To punish the districts for attempting to defy the Capitol. The Hunger Games is a symbolic sacrifice for all the lives taken by the rebels."

"I said the same thing once," he replied cooley, a very subtle smile appearing on his reddened lips. Too red, as if they were inflamed and in pain. "But I didn't truly grasp the meaning of the games until I became a mentor myself."