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Before Plume Grace was given the honorary title of "outcast," she had tried to be popular in the Capitol. She had become rather famous after her Games, in which she was particularly brutal to her fellow tributes. She came out as victor at the malleable age of fifteen, still just a child. With a slaughtered innocence and a touch of damaged ego, she had turned to Capitol spoils as a way to distract herself. Luxurious parties were common amongst victors. Plume was expected to attend at least one every other day. At the parties, people gave her the attention she so desperately craved, and fanatically recounted Plume's survival story. She had the Capitol wrapped around her finger. After all, she was the girl who killed two Careers in her Games. Careers were practically impossible to kill, especially for a spindly thin girl from District 10. It was a feat that didn't go unnoticed.
Her family didn't grasp the concept of her trauma. If anything, they saw Plume as an investment. She had lifted her family out of poverty and brought honor to her district. Her father sold the cattle ranch, her mother quit her job, and they all moved into Victor's Village with whatever belongings they could scrounge up. Plume and her parents had a curious relationship. After Plume returned from her arena, covered in invisible scars and eyes wary for signs of an attacker, her parents seemed happy. Although their joy was genuine, Plume was smart enough to realize that their optimism wasn't pointed at her survival. It was more so pointed at the money that Plume had brought in. Her parents saw in tunnel vision. Money was the most important thing to them, and it always had been. They had been that way all her life. Her earliest memory was of her mother bartering at the local flea market, and her father hiring the cheapest farmboys to do the work on the ranch. They were raised with not a single cent to their name, so they spent most of their life pinching pennies and trying to make ends meet. But when Plume showed up with golden coins bursting out of her pockets, she was given a lot more attention than usual.
Plume couldn't stand being around them. Their greed made her feel empty. They didn't seem to care that she had come back from three weeks of unadulterated horror. All they saw was a cash cow, begging to be milked.
So, Plume found validation in all of the wrong places. She made friends with upper-class Capitol folk. She conducted several interviews per week. Her popularity soared to the point that everyone in Panem was constantly having her name shoved down their throats. Merchandise with her face on it spread like wildfire throughout the Capitol. Plume Grace was a golden girl, bound to be in the limelight for the rest of her life.
All of that was tainted when she said the wrong thing at a particular party.
Plume had always been spiteful in nature. Since the day she was able to speak, she despised the Capitol with every fiber of her being. She was born and raised into poverty. Unlike the Capitol and lapdogs of the Capitol (particularly District 2, a place that Plume would've liked to scorn), the citizens of District 10 had to actually work to make a meaningful wage. Plume learned how to clean up cow manure and slaughter animals by the time she was seven. Her hands molded to the rope of a guillotine before she could do basic arithmetic. A girl carved from brimstone and arsenic mixed with too much alcohol was a recipe for disaster. It was only a matter of time before Plume accidentally snapped at a well-off politician or victor. It was only a matter of time before her fame was widdled down to malignant rumors and cut ties.
