Flames to Embers

8- Britt Lee Pt. 2

Heyy guys. So I had a giganticus writer's block. I APOLOGIZe for the IncOnVeNIeNCE (Quote Senior Lobster Bisque).

The video up top it Sesame Street Catching Fire. Absolutely golden. 10/10 reccomend.

I smiled at Britt as she exited the house across the street diagonally from mine, three lions at her feet. Seneca Crane had come to an agreement with her, concerning the lion mutts. There were nine remaining. Most of them would be released into the wilds, but three of them underwent a procedure where the Capitol scientists altered them, making them much, much smaller, so they were each the size of a large dog. Britt was not informed of this until after it happened. She would never allow such cruelty to be done to her lions. She would have simply set them all free. But, as it was, she kept all three mutts. Winston, Autumn, and Merlot.

Britt crossed the street after retrieving the newspaper that sat on her front porch.

"How are you, Britt?" I asked her once she made her way over.

She shrugged. "How are any of us, really?"

I grinned. "That's the proper response.

It was the day of the Victory Tour. This would be my first time going on a Victory Tour since my own, three years ago. I was elated to see Katniss again. She was my closest friend. No one else understood me like she did. "Train leaves in an hour," I said. Britt nodded, the smile slipping off her face.

"It'll be fine," I said. "Nothing's going to happen. No one will go anywhere near you when you have three lions circling your feet,"

Britt tried to smile, but it clearly didn't work. "That's not what I'm nervous about,"

"Then what is it?" I asked her. She looked down. "I'm your mentor, Britt. If you can't tell me, then who can you tell?"

"I don't even know." She said. "I can't put it into words. I think I'm just nervous about the whole thing in general."

I smiled. "That makes sense. We all were. Now, I don't mean to cut this short, but I still need to pack."

"Don't they provide all the clothes for you?"

"Yeah. But believe me when I say, no matter how comfortable the clothes on the train are, they can't beat my old, pilly sweats."

I reentered my house and breathed a sigh of relief. President Snow hadn't paid her a visit. If he didn't do it today, he probably wouldn't do it at all. Or at least for a few more years. Britt was pretty, but she wasn't nearly as drop dead gorgeous as, say, Cashmere. Most of the Victors never had to participate in my occupation. Just the special ones. Which is why I was so worried about Katniss. Over the next year or so, President Snow would probably make the proposition to her.

I grabbed a bag out of my closet and began filling it with things to last me the next thirteen days on the train. Several pairs of sweatpants, some comfortable t shirts, a tin full of sugar cubes, an old, frayed rope that my Capitol psychiatrist gave to me, my pillow (which I can't sleep without), and a framed picture that sat on my nightstand. It was a picture of my family: Caspian, Solomon, Vann, my mother, Dell, Annie, and me, all standing on the beach. In the corner of the frame, I put a small picture of Katniss, Cashmere, Gloss, and me, standing arm and arm with each other. I had cut it out of a newspaper about a month ago. It was an article about the Victors. A "Where Are They Now" sort of thing. I checked the time, which told me we had about a half an hour. The cameras were probably here already, filming Britt's appearance. I peaked out my window, and sure enough, there was Britt, standing in front of a camera crew, all dolled up. I could see our stylist, Adonia, standing in the doorway of her house, along with our prep teams, and our escort, an absurd man named Cicero. I jogged down the stairs and exited my house through the back door, which stepped right out onto the beach. I walked all the way around the Village, and through town to get to the train station, where the train was waiting for me, the mentor of the 68th Hunger Games.