2 | deal with the devil

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┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑DEAL WITH THE DEVIL┕━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┙

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┍━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┑
DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
┕━━━━━━━♔━━━━━━━┙


  。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚


THE FIRST THING that Ontari notices when she's escorted into President Snow's private office is the overwhelming stench of perfume that makes her nose sting and eyes water. As soon as the Peacekeeper who'd led her here steps out of her way to resume his place guarding the door, she realizes why: the room is covered in Snow's signature flower. White roses fill two wide-mouthed vases on either end of his desk made of shining, well-polished oak, flourish from bouquets perched on the windowsill, and sit pinned to the lapel of his suit. She's heard the rumors about why he keeps these perfumed monstrosities around. However, the noxious fumes are already giving her a headache, so she doesn't have the mental capacity to recall the stories whispered about Panem's sadistic leader.

"Miss Nightfall," the president greets. His ice-blue eyes watch her like a hawk, appearing to see down into her very soul as he smiles a grin dripping with poison and knives. His hair is nearly entirely white now and it matches his favorite flower almost perfectly. Though his face is beginning to show more wrinkles and signs of old age, it doesn't make him any less dangerous.

"Hello, President Snow," Ontari greets with feigned politeness, folding her hands in front of her so their shaking is less obvious. She keeps her tone formal. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

His smile widens at her response, showing more of his teeth. He gestures to one of the two chairs placed in front of his desk and does not answer her question right away. "Sit. You must be exhausted after the fight you put up. It was quite the showdown between you and Miss Lockwind."

"Thank you, sir, but I'm well-rested." Every hair on the back of Ontari's neck stands up as she sits in the plush seat, urging her to get as far away as she can from this vile man. Her stomach churns at the mention of the ginger-haired Career. "The medical team is wonderful."

"Indeed." Snow pins her in place with his penetrating stare. There's a pause as he examines her once more before taking a breath and beginning, "Well, I suppose I should tell you why you're here. Usually I do not see the victors before the closing ceremony tonight. However, for you, there are some... special circumstances I would like to tell you about."

Ontari swallows. Special circumstances? Woof and Cecelia hadn't warned her about anything like this.

Snow presses a button. A small hologram appears above his desk, the image on it sending shards of glass blasting into Ontari's heart. It's her family. The photo must have been taken in the Main Square of Eight when the games had ended– she recognizes the Justice Building behind them and their neighbor's face half cut out of the frame. Her mother is clinging to her father, head buried in his chest as relieved tears roll from his brown eyes. Cassian, her younger brother, is staring at what must be the screen with his mouth slack in shock. She's surprised to see her older sister, Hestia, with her hands on Cassian's shoulders and her mouth pinched in pride. The nineteen-year-old usually has nothing but a scowl on her face.

Embers | Finnick Odair ⁰Where stories live. Discover now