𝗚𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘¹, clato [catching fire au]

v. dead weight

005. | dead weight

❝𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴

𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘯❞

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄'𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 with a newfound strength that afternoon, as she concluded her Victory Tour with an address to her home district during their Harvest Festival. Her encounter with her best friend in the Academy that morning had brought her a temporary release from its pressure, but ultimately, the crown's existence was permanent. The final speech had been weighing on Clove's mind almost as persistently as the weight of the victory itself, and she had been both anticipating it and dreading it all at once. Here, in her home district, she was looked upon as a hero and a victor only, not as a murderer or a villain, and her golden status earned her nothing but praise, but one thing took away from the feeling of glory.

It was the looks of sorrow plastered on the faces of Blaze's mother and father as they stood on their podium, clutching each other for comfort as they faced her. She knew that they sympathised with her, and had no grievance towards her at all - after all, she had been nothing but an ally to their son - but the look in their eyes still appeared harrowing to her. In their faces, all Clove saw was the image of their son's body being brutally murdered by somebody he had trusted, the moment that had provided the Capitol with the most gripping piece of entertainment they had seen all year, and it made her sick.

Still, the fragmented looks from his parents did not even nearly match the distress that greeted Clove from the image they stood in front of. Just seeing his face, so innocent and alive, staring at her from across the crowd, made the guilt build in her chest. Her stomach twisted into a knot, and she had to bite her lip to avoid the terror building up in her throat forcing its way out of her mouth.

And suddenly, she could not breath.

But today, weakness was not an option. And so, she breathed through her suffocation, she smiled through her pain, and she hoped that they would not notice that from beneath the crippling pressure from her crown, she bled.

As with most districts on the Victory Tour, the address to her district took place in front of the Justice Building, on the same stage that she had stood on six months earlier after volunteering. The atmosphere was oddly the same, though filled with much less anticipation, but the feeling was almost incomparable. Six months ago, she had stood here with her head held high and a spark of adrenaline burning through her veins, her district partner by her side. Now, she stood there with the feeling that the ground would crumble beneath her feet with just one misstep, with the feeling of eyes constantly watching over her to make sure she said the correct thing, and most importantly - she was almost completely, overwhelmingly alone.

She was introduced onto the stage by an address from Mayor Studwick, followed by a rippling round of applause from the loving citizens of her district, just soaking up the benefits of another victor for their beloved home. But they did not view her as an individual, and they never truly would. She was the newest in a long line of celebrities that they would worship until their death, somebody for children to idolise and adults to envy, but she was not her own. Not anymore, and as she was beginning to realise, not ever.