𝗚𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘¹, clato [catching fire au]

iii. inauguration

003. | inauguration

❝𝘪 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵

𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵❞

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 did clearly not shy away from the chance to party, and considering that even the life of a victor in the wealthiest district presented little opportunity for such lavish events, the atmosphere at the Mayor's house was animated and full with life. The Kentwell family were even greeted with a round of applause when they entered the dining room, though it appeared to come more from intoxication than admiration. The others had already been at the party for a considerable time when Clove had finally arrived, and victors had the tendency to drink like pirates, so it was no surprise that many of them were tipsy on arrival. Alcohol was the simplest form of medication to provide numbness, and the easiest form to obtain. 

The event was mostly informal, with the main body of the party left for casual socialising and drinking with only a short sit-down meal midway through the evening. Clove wasn't sure if this was the same approach they used in other districts, or whether District Two simply preferred a homely approach, but the laidback atmosphere helped to ease her nerves. 

She wasn't entirely sure what it was that made her so uneasy around the other victors - they were just people after all, and people who had experienced exactly what she had. Each victor was ruthless in their own right; tearing their victims throats out with their own teeth, slashing countless throats with a sword, ambushing victims and taunting them before their deaths, and with her futile throw, Clove was no different. But the aura that surrounded her counterparts seemed to bleed glory, and Clove struggled to view them as anything other than the celebrities she had awed her entire upbringing. This was the place she had always wanted to be. 

She did not belong here. Only, she did. 

Just breathe, Clove, do not let them see you break. 

Though that night's dinner nowhere near lived up to the extravagance of the Presidential Mansion, the Victor's district were always greatly rewarded for their triumph. The dinner was catered by gifts sent from the Capitol, and so, naturally, the food was divine. Not only that, but the Capitol funded the entire Harvest Festival in the winning district, so that year the whole of District Two would eat like kings. It was like the district had been granted with a stroke of luck, having two victors in the space of two years, but anyone with any sense knew that luck had nothing to do with it. They were careers, cavernous and deadly, and they held much higher odds than most. 

She found herself wondering how many victims they had taken between them, how many lives had been collectively taken at the hands of the pack of wolves that dined in this room. A pack she was now a part of. She wondered if the blood on their hands frightened them as much as the blood on hers - it scared her to death. Perhaps her remorse made her weaker than the rest, perhaps her brutality in the arena had not been enough. 

"Kentwell!", the voice came from across the room, and startled her away from the dark web her mind had been tangling, "I want you to meet someone".