Ignite - Chapter VII:

-----

Preparing for the interview required putting on a mask.

In three minutes, one must be able to act, meet, or even better yet, exceed expectations, and most importantly-

A tribute must be memorable.

Choosing the mask to put on, however, was the part she was having trouble with.

Should she be sweet?

Should she be kind?

Her last performance before she entered the arena would be critical in completing her stage.

After all, consistency is key in weaving an illusion, and in order to successfully complete the play she had in mind-

She has to dance and twist herself to a tune only she could hear.

Solanum hummed, voice filling the room eerily.

Solanum hoped the Capitol would like it.

She did prepare it with them in mind, after all.

...

..

.

Wearing a persona, for Solanum, wasn't difficult.

It wasn't a conscious decision.

Perhaps this particular talent, if you could call it that, carried over from her life as a shinobi.

Wearing disguises - trained continuously as she tried to appear more "normal"-

The skill came too naturally to Solanum.

Solanum could even say that to some extent, she found it more difficult to hold back from doing so.

(Her family always did like her more when she wasn't herself.)

(A bit more life to her- a bit more color.)

(A touch of flush in an otherwise blank page.)

(It was addicting to see care, affection, and relief etched into her parents' tired faces.)

(A break from the usual fear and anxiety that Solanum usually see from them when they look at her.)

Solanum wanted the people close to her to accept her for who she truly was.

However, observing how it seemed like pretending could ease the burden- the worries her parents have-

The thought of putting on a facade in front of them didn't make her chest hurt as much.

(Wasn't this not unlike the mask Kakashi wore before to hide from the world?)

(Even to the people he cared about-)

(His teacher, his comrades, or the team of children that he took under his care-)

(Kakashi hid.)

(From his past, from the thought of not meeting expectations-)

(From the thought of disappointing people again because he didn't react as they expected him to.)

However, Solanum was afraid.

If one wore a mask long enough, would the face behind it fade away?

Would it disappear?

She wondered.

(Would she disappear?)

Solanum compromised.

She tried fitting herself into a mold that one couldn't call entirely feigned, no, but it did retain parts of her-

Parts that Solanum could call were hers. Parts of her that she couldn't bear to part with.

It was a bit strange. A mask created with patches fitted awkwardly together naturally couldn't compare to a seamless persona, however-

She thought it was worth it.

Time faded the marks of inconsistency softly, gently-

Until the mask didn't feel as odd on her skin anymore and it felt more real.

She was content. Her family was content.

Prim and Katniss didn't seem so far away from her anymore.

What more could she ask for?

(Nothing.)

(She reminded herself.)

(Solanum knew not to be greedy enough to ask for more once she realized that's all they could ever give.)

..

.

Solanum's interview preparation started with Effie. Responsible for training her manners and etiquette, the vibrantly coiffured woman taught her how to sit, how to walk, how to smile.

How to be at ease with a large audience as she's asked probing, intrusive, personal questions.

Questions that would make her relatable - likable to the audience.

It barely took any time for Solanum to adapt and surpass Effie's expectations.

Solanum's control of her body was one of the things she prided herself on and as she accordingly adjusted her actions based on the suggestions and feedback she got from Effie, Cinna, and the other stylists who found enough free time to watch her performance, she did well enough that Effie couldn't find fault.

Since Gale was with Haymitch until noon and her session with Effie ended too early, Solanum spent the rest of the time brainstorming with the others on the look she would be having tomorrow.

She would have to check with Haymitch if her strategy was feasible, but for the dress-

Solanum hoped it would be white.

(To symbolize death. To symbolize mourning. And to symbolize distance.)

People loved what they couldn't have. A sense of distance with smatterings of life to give the illusion of intimacy when there was none.

Moreover, the color of ashes-

It was a warning and a reminder to the Capitol, even if it would most likely fall over their heads.

(Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.)

Regardless if they knew it or not, Solanum thought it would be a poetic way to end the preparation period.

(Cinna had initially offered a beautiful red dress.)

(A dress that sparks flames when one spun and twirled and danced.)

(Solanum turned it down.)

(It was a lovely dress, truly, she found Cinna's talent admirable, however-)

(Solanum felt that she didn't have passion, the natural vivid temperament that could bring out its charm in front of everyone.)

(In the end, Cinna was convinced.)

(What could he say after all, to someone who already had their foot in the grave?)

.

For the interview content training with Haymitch, it took only a couple of revisions here and there from him before he gave his final approval.

"You already know how to sell yourself, Everdeen," Haymitch muttered. "I barely even have to do anything."

Solanum hummed.

"Doesn't it get tiring?" Haymitch asked, gesturing to her with a wave of his hand. "Pretending like this-" He sighed. "You're still young."

Solanum shrugged.

Haymitch snorted before taking a swig from the bottle that seemed to be perpetually filled with liquor. "Didn't even know why I asked," He stopped. "Not that you'd stick with this anyway. For all I know, you're showing this in front of me, then say fuck you on stage."

Haymitch looked constipated. "That sounded exactly like what you would do."

Solanum chuckled. A beat of silence, then-

"Anything I need to know regarding Gale's own strategy for this interview?"

Haymitch raised his brows in surprise.

"What?" Solanum asked, unperturbed.

"Didn't think you'd care."

"Just checking if it includes me," Solanum answered casually. "Or my sister."

Haymitch looked bemused. "Why did you think your sister would be mentioned by Gale?"

Solanum hummed. "He always did pine for her. Who knows if he'd use this chance to confess his love?"

"I," Haymitch paused. "Didn't know that. But you-" Haymitch chortled. "You- definitely not."

Solanum didn't mind. "He better not."

Haymitch snorted. "I thought you didn't know each other."

"It was always one-sided on his part. I had always been perfectly nice."

"Perfectly nice, my ass." Haymitch slouched into his seat. "His route had always been different from yours. Not to mention that he didn't need this to have his sponsors spending millions on him."

"You don't have to rub it in."

Haymitch glanced at Solanum. "Wouldn't it be better to check with him instead? You know-," He waved his hand. "Actually talk more than 20 seconds or better yet- maintain an actual conversation."

"I'll trust you."

"Don't say I didn't remind you."

-----

Caesar Flickermann had spent most of his time performing.

In the time that he worked as a host, year after year in the Hunger Games, Caesar witnessed all kinds of tributes pass under his hands.

He could say he did his best. To an extent.

He did try to give each a fighting chance. Trying to bring out the best of their qualities.

He tried to make them memorable.

To have the ones in the Capitol that have the capital bet, invest and spend to give these poor kids a fighting chance to change their life.

To survive from the cruelty of people in power who used them to cower the rest. Their only fault being; born in the wrong place - on the losing side of the war.

Despite being a resident of Capitol ever since he was born, Caesar had always been a bit more humane than his contemporaries.

He wouldn't dare to describe himself as kind. But he sympathizes, he pities-

And to some extent, Caesar could relate.

He couldn't say that he experienced the hardship most people living in the districts of Panem have had.

Caesar knew the challenges he faced - growing up in a society where everyone tried to fill the monotony of their life with colors, outrageous fashion, and deranged excess were nothing in the face of starvation, desperation, and fear that each and every people in numerous districts feel.

Even in District 1, for all the favor that Capitol said to have for them, were nothing more than dogs. Praised and punished with the same hand, depending on the whims and mood of people more privileged than they were.

However, Caesar felt that they bleed red as he does, they cry, they feel and they yearn-

Always yearning for better things.

They were humans. Same as him. Same as everyone in this god-forsaken country.

He wouldn't dare to call himself kind, but he wasn't cruel either.

Mayhaps, falling in lust with someone like Finnick Odair had helped in making him gentler - more forgiving than he was before.

Made the position he inherited from his father less of a burden than it was before.

He was tempted by Finnick. Beautiful and strong in a way that appealed greatly to his aesthetics.

Finnick agreed to his overtures and-

Caesar took what Finnick was willing to give, uncaring that he was giving information Finnick could use to overturn the place he spent his whole life on.

He could even say that he fell in love - however, love didn't seem to fit the obsession he had for Finnick. An obsession that somehow didn't veer into possessiveness, since Caesar was accepting of Finnick's love for Annie and his dalliance with other men and women of power.

Finnick can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Just as long as he comes back to Caesar each and every time he leaves.

.

The current batch of tributes for the 74th Hunger Games was interesting.

The Career districts have outdone themselves this year. Glimmer and Marvel, Cato and Clover-

They had chemistry-

A tension far beyond the usual, Career districts offered for Capitol's yearly entertainment.

(Caesar wondered absentmindedly, as he offered a huge smile to the audience during the brief break on stage if Cato and Clover were lovers.)

(Based on the interviews alone, they both seem very invested in winning on their own. However-)

(He wondered if they both know they pine for each other.)

(How entertaining. Caesar thought, amused.)

All four were very charming, skilled, and knew how to play up the crowd. Caesar barely have to do anything, since they were able to take advantage of their strengths well enough -

Glimmer, beautiful and sexy.

Marvel, confident and easygoing.

Clover, sassy and prideful.

And, Cato, cruel and strong.

They all had their own storyline - their respective strengths.

Caesar believed that they would have kept the Capitol occupied if it weren't for the two unexpected tributes from District 12.

First was Solanum Everdeen. All dreamy visuals with a temperament that one could liken to an elf or a fairy lost in time. Beautiful in a way that Annie Cresta was but not-

A girl with blank gray eyes, an aura that screamed of distance, and strength that belied her petite figure.

Caesar kept his ear on the ground and knew that the Solanum Everdeen's score wasn't for show. The Gamemakers truly believed that the strongest tribute for this year was her.

Imagine. A batch with Cato, Thresh and her fellow district tribute - Gale Hawthorne, and this mere slip of a girl was the strongest one out of all of them.

Caesar enjoyed the interview he had with her.

That wasn't to say that the other interviews Caesar had for the night weren't fun.

They were, of course, however-

Talking with Solanum was definitely an experience.

She entered the stage with quiet impact. A hush, not unlike the one District 12 was greeted with during the Tribute Parade.

Clad in a dress with an ash-like hue, the current stylists of District 12, knew to bring out Solanum's lovely otherness to an almost exaggerated degree. All striking pale colors, the same metal crown she wore when she was first introduced in her chariot, hair in curls and ears a bit pointed-

With every step forward, bits of her dress sparked with char and subtle fire. Like coal quietly burning after a huge fire.

It wasn't overdone. Add a little more and it would look gaudy. Subtract a little less, and it would appear lacking. The design saddled the line just enough that it amplified the air of mystery, the air of foreignness Solanum naturally had.

She looked like a nymph. A dryad mourning for what happened to the Panem they created.

At that moment, Caesar was struck with the thought that making a sound would be blasphemous.

He, himself, was unusually affected by the atmosphere she managed to command on her own. Not to mention the audience-

All were quiet, everyone cowered by the pressure Solanum wrapped around herself like a cloak.

That entrance alone was enough to erase the impression the audience had of the tributes that came before her.

"Hello," Solanum murmured, her voice soft, mellifluous but not timid. "I'm Solanum Everdeen."

Caesar didn't even realize that he held his breath until he started his greetings. "Wow."

Solanum looked bemused. "Thank you."

The next three minutes after that were a whirlwind, to say the least.

She wasn't anything like he expected.

One would almost call her arrogant, however, it was more of-

A performance of someone who honestly didn't give a fuck anymore.

She didn't even care about offending him. Caesar privately chuckled to himself.

Mayhaps it was reckless of her to do so, considering the connections Caesar had, but he found it refreshing.

It was new, it was interesting and honestly, he just found her hilarious.

Caesar hadn't had a guest as good as her in a while, so he could cut her some slack.

.

..

The impression that stuck with Caesar the most was how well Solanum Everdeen knew how to set her boundaries. He appreciated how when declining to answer certain questions she deemed too personal, she didn't resort to outright denial.

Instead, she dealt with it through topics that, if it weren't for the limited time-

Caesar truly would've entertained just for the chaos.

You see, throughout his experience, most tributes, when asked questions they don't like to answer, would still answer - stuttering as they laid themselves bare to an audience that don't really care.

Some would say no.

Others wouldn't even say anything.

Then, there were a few like Solanum who were a bit more clever with it.

For instance, when he asked her about her family, about her volunteering for her sisters - one would expect, considering the girl's background and soft appearance, of a touching spiel about how her family was important to her.

A good way to harvest a bit of pity. A bit of distress to solidify her background more and a way to declare her love to her family one last time before she fights for her life, but-

Solanum just hummed lightly in reply.

Caesar was bewildered, invoking laughter from the crowd. "Hmmm?" He echoed.

"I don't think knowing about how I volunteered would be helpful in showing what I'm capable of to the audience," Solanum explained. "Why don't we talk about what I dislike the most about every tribute instead?"

Caesar laughed. "No."

"I dislike how stuck up most of them are," She continued.

The audience laughed harder.

"There were some, not dropping any names, Caesar, that tried to market themselves as a killing machine when they aren't even as good as I am."

Caesar coughed - trying to muffle his laughter at the poorly disguised jab at Cato, the only tribute who described himself as a "killing machine" the whole evening.

He didn't find it ridiculous earlier, since it was spoken so seriously by the young man, but when described by Solanum in that faint mocking tone-

It was way too funny.

The horrified look on Effie's face, when Caesar tried to keep himself calm by trying to avert his eyes from the girl, just made it even better.

"No," Caesar chided, after a moment or so.

"What about their weaknesses?" Solanum offered. This time, her quip earned incredulous reactions from the audience.

"Tempting, but no," Caesar grinned. "Why don't we talk about your score, instead?" He leaned in. "I'm curious, how did you get an eleven?"

"It's because I'm good."

Caesar waited, but Solanum didn't continue. "Won't you expound on that?"

Solanum sighed as if it should be obvious already, before continuing with, "I'm better than Clove and she got a ten, so it's obvious I would get an eleven."

Caesar couldn't help but guffaw uproariously this time. "Ballsy."

"Would you like to bet?"

"What bet?"

"I would kill her first," She smiled slightly, nonchalantly as if she hadn't just declared war on two of the strongest and most ruthless tributes from a district with far more winning streaks under their belt. "Or maybe Cato. Whoever's closer, really."

A titter here and there sounded in the room.

Of disbelief. Of ridicule.

A laugh.

(But, there were considering whispers.)

(There were also those enamored with Solanum's lovely smile. The first smile she had given actually, in front of everyone onstage.)

"You're so pretty," Caesar sighed.

Solanum appeared surprised. "I don't think I'm as pretty as Gale is."

Caesar chuckled. "That's different."

"You didn't see him in a dress yet."

"I would love to know when you saw your fellow tribute in a dress," Caesar started. "Unfortunately," The audience groaned. "We barely have any time left. Solanum, last question. What would you do if you win?"

"Be rich. Be merry," Solanum paused before laughing girlishly. "Strive not to be prostituted for perverts like you."

"What?" Caesar suddenly stopped.

She smiled. "What?"

The buzzer for the timer sounded and as if on cue, the audience's loud cheers filled the room.

.

..

...

And Gale Hawthorne. A young man that reminds him a lot of his lover, Finnick.

He was a fine young man, with chiseled features that weren't romantic like Finnick's no, but colder. He was polished, beautified, and primped by his stylists well enough that one could liken him to a prince.

To a king.