FIRE AND ICE, p. mellark

𝐢𝐢: 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬

"...Oh I love it! Our latest victor from District 2 looks stunning, majestic, like a dream! Like she is the meadow, what do you think, folks?"

Ah, Caesar Flickerman. A mystery of a man who Nemesis never understood but could find herself respecting.

Slightly.

The way that he seemed to make uneasy tributes seem less uncomfortable to an audience allowed Nemesis to appreciate him. Caesar made the audience consider even the most useless of tributes.

Nemesis let herself flash a smile at the audience as Caesar walked around her, loudly admiring her dress and makeup. He fanned his face and took Nemesis' hand, leading her to a chair before he finally sat down as well.

"Well, might I just say, again, that you look absolutely lovely, drop-dead gorgeous, am I right folks?" Caesar exclaimed, looking toward the audience.

"Thank you, Caesar, you look stunning as well," Nemesis said. "New hair?"

"I'm so glad you noticed," Caesar said, waving his hand to calm the laughing audience. "Now, Nemesis. This is, what, your second year being a mentor?"

"Yes, last year was my first," Nemesis responded. "It was a unique experience, I can't wait to do it again this year."

"Yes, yes," Caesar said. "How do you feel your experience with your tributes this year will be? Better? Worse?"

"I wish I'd never have to mentor anyone ever again. I wish I'd never done this in the first place."

At least, that's what she wanted to say.

"Well Caesar, to be honest with you, it really depends on the tribute. It depends on how willing they are to listen and, when it comes down to it, how fast they can learn. How quickly they can think. Of course, I'm sure my tributes this year will be nothing if not incredible."

"I'm glad you think that," Caesar said. "I'm sure that's something we'd all love to see, some fire to spice up the arena, isn't that right folks?"

Again, the audience cheered, but this didn't make Nemesis feel anything positive. Her stomach tightened. Some fire to spice up the arena. Fire was never her strong suit.

"And I'm sure that's just what we'll get," Nemesis said. "I have a feeling the 74th Hunger Games will be one hell of a showstopper."

"I'm sure it's not just me, but several others, who wish it to be as much of a showstopper as the 72nd," Caesar said, leaning forward. "I've said this time and time before, and it is something I believe with my whole heart; your games will go down in history as one of the greatest games Panem has ever seen."

"Thank you, Caesar," Nemesis said, leaning forward in correspondence. "With the 74th games coming up, I keep thinking to myself how fortunate I was for everything because it led to all of this. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for the Hunger Games."

Fortunate? Lies, lies, lies.

"You went into those games as one of the youngest in the arena and came out, well, the only one alive," Caesar said, looking her in the eye. "You fought not only hard but smart, which is something just as important that some tributes tend to overlook. Do you have any words of advice, for the upcoming tributes?"

She was a killer. The foundation of her advice would be to forget your humanity and be an animal. Kill upon instinct.

But she couldn't say that.

"Don't ignore your surroundings. Your own ignorance can kill you faster than anyone or anything else."

"And isn't that a piece of magnificent advice I'd advise all you future tributes to follow," Caesar said, adopting a gentle voice for just that moment, reverting back to his regular show host voice for his next line. "Now, we've seen her games. We've watched, rewatched, and analyzed. But we haven't seen much of Nemesis' life as a victor, now have we folks?"