" 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔞 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 "
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
With a mind burdened by her own actions,
Rowan Everdeen must return to her home
district, and face her loved ones. But around
her, a...
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" i couldn't tell you before "
rowan's view
𝔗hough I hadn't the faintest clue as to how they had gotten ahold of the faded, bloodied pin from my home district, I consented to its auction. When Haymitch had tried to return it to me, I found myself unable to look at the metal flames without seeing the fire surrounding the arena, filling the air with smoke. Effie kindly informed me of the amount it would fetch at the auctions following the end of the games, and, with the Hawthorne family in mind, I sent it off in return for the profits.
Even after selling the token, it seemed I was unable to escape the symbol of my victory, nor the alias others used to refer to me. Girl on fire. I wished nothing more than for that term to disappear, though I knew it wouldn't.
A manifestation of my alias was the wardrobe Cinna had crafted for me. Even as I fought for my life in the arena, the stylist had continued to create stunning designs. Cinna's clothes had spread across the Capitol, thanks to my victory.
Where he stored these designs was even more impressive. An entire floor was dedicated to his creations, with bright fabrics tossed over every hook, and racks filled with ensembles of every kind. As he led me through, I could imagine him spending hours locked here, bringing his elaborate drawings to life.
As I ran my hand across a row of dresses on the left wall, I could sense Cinna watching me curiously. "What do you think?" he asked quietly.
Hiding my emotions had always been an easy feat, but never with Cinna. "They're beautiful," was all I said, and it wasn't a lie. Without trying them on, I knew every single item would fit like a glove. They were striking on their own, without any of the elements that made typical Capitolian outfits seem so ostentatious.
Cinna let out a barely audible sigh, moving ahead of me to open another cabinet, revealing darker greys and blacks. From my vantage point, I could see knit scarves and tunics, ideal for my native climate. "I've made some for colder weather, too. I'll arrange for their transport back with you to 12."
"You didn't have to," I shook my head, smiling lightly. Smiling was a difficult feat as of late, but his kind gesture made it easier.
"Can't let my champion freeze," Cinna shrugged, closing the cabinet back up. Wearing those elegant fabrics back home would be difficult, when most everyone could barely afford the scraps considered clothing in 12.
I turned back to the rows of dresses, pulling out a halter that caught my eye. It was woven of black silk, flowing from a pure black down to an inky ruby shade, as if the train had been dipped in blood. Haymitch had instructed me to wear lighter colours for the interview, but as I gazed at that gown, I sorely wished I could wear it.
