❖ Book 2 of 3 ❖
【 Slow burn fanfic 】
║ Catching Fire Reimagined║
It's the year of the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Isla Dunne, victor of the 73rd Hunger Games, can tell something is off after last year's games. They had tipped the scales, thanks to the...
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ISLA DRESSES FOR the reaping, putting on a dark cerulean blue collared jumpsuit. She puts her hair in a ponytail, and despite her hatred for them, slips on a pair of matching heels. She had to look good, everyone would be watching today, eager to see which familiar faces would be sent back into the games.
She exits her room, hearing an exasperated huff come from Finnick's room. She stops short, teetering on her pointed heels. "Finnick, are you ready?" Isla asks, lightly knocking on his door.
"Almost!"
It was odd for him to take longer than her when getting ready. She turns the knob to the door, looking in to find the handsome man struggling with the clasp on his knit tunic. "You could've asked for help." Isla says, swatting his hands away and securing the metal pieces.
"I didn't want to make you late." There's a sarcastic tone to his voice, indicating that Isla was usually the one to be late. He wasn't wrong. She flashes him a sarcastic smile in return.
They're interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping on the front door. Isla looks at Finnick with a slightly scared expression. Of course they'd send peacekeepers to escort them to the reaping, just to be sure there were no issues. She couldn't help but feel angry at this. They were victors, survivors of the Hunger Games, did the Capitol really think they'd run away and hide?
They're peeled apart as each victor is led to the Justice Building, a good five feet between them all as they march in a single file line up the sandy pathways towards the town's square. Isla leads the way, three peacekeepers in front of her, and one on either side.
What must be all of District Four stares at her as she walks by. Some are sad, some are excited, some are scared, even angry. She avoids eye contact with them all, keeping her gaze trained steadily on the stage that's been set up in front of the large building. Fleur sits in a chair next to the mayor, her expression sullen once she catches a glimpse of the victors.
Once on top of the stage, the four victors stand to the side. Of course, the crowd doesn't know if Isla's plan, and either way, the formality of it all still had to exist. Fleur still had to draw names. Not to mention the overdone speech and Capitol propaganda video.
Isla tunes it all out. The video, the mayor's address to the district, and the brief history provided by Fleur about the Dark Days and the Quarter Quell. She just stares off towards the distance. She can see the ocean from her place on the stage, and it calms her. Allowing her to put on a brave face as Fleur approaches the bowl with three slips of folded paper at the bottom.
Fleur seems to be having a difficult time controlling her emotions as she dips her gloved hand into the glass bowl. It finds one of the pieces of paper, and she curls her fingers into her palm, securing it in hand. She waddles back to the podium, unfolding it to read aloud the name. "Annie Cresta."
