Determined Hearts | F. Odair

v. moment of weakness

She nervously fiddled with the golden chain around her neck. The cool metal of the locket kept her grounded to the platform in front of the mirror. Her thoughts were beginning to overwhelm her with how often they spiralled. Last time she was this paranoid, she was with Finnick and Talisa on her Victory Tour. She was slipping, losing the battle to the images of her family being killed by Snow. And with how rebellious her outfit for the parade was, Glade worried that her worries might be right.

Maximus Kouture, her stylist, dressed her up in something she knew would anger Snow. Yes, she wanted Snow to pay for making her and the rest of the Victors go back into the arena, but she had so much to lose. It was common knowledge amongst them that families will eventually be slaughtered. Attachment was leverage in President Snow’s eyes, and love was a weakness to be exploited. Her grandmother and Glade did everything they were expected to do and never strayed out of line. He never did just punish them.

Baby blue fabric hugged her figure and morphed into a beautiful sea green as it shot out at her thighs. The layers of white ruffles underneath made the bottom of the skirt look like seafoam. There was no doubt that it was a District Four inspired gown, but she didn’t know what to think of it. Glade bit her lip and looked over herself once again. She looked like royalty after Maximus placed the wreath atop her head. It was woven with fishing nets. The small shells hidden in parts of the wreath looked like gems and jewels on a crown.

Glade could barely recognize herself. She never dressed so maturely in public before. It was the first time she felt like she actually looked her own age. There were no frills or tulle. It was different, a different she could get used to, but the voice in the back of her head screamed at her to take it off. She pushed the nagging feeling away and smiled. She finally saw herself in the mirror.

Looking over her shoulder, Glade was met with a teary eyed Maximus. A handkerchief rested in his hands as he sniffled and forced back tears. He and the rest of his team fawned over her with a sadness that rested in all of their hearts, even Glade was saddened that this would be one of her last nights alive. “I’ve had this idea for a long time.” He wiped under his eyes. “I never thought it was going to get used. The President’s orders for you are so strict, but I couldn’t let anyone else wear it. You were the muse, darling, and it would be a shame if he took the chance to wear it away.”

She hugged him tightly, whispering a grateful thank you. “I've never felt...so me before,” she said softly. A laugh escaped her lips. It was the first one she shared with him in a long time. Once he calmed himself down, he guided her to the waiting area where the rest of the tributes were. 

Seeing that her and Finnick’s chariot was empty, she knew that he was off somewhere talking to someone. It was only a matter of finding him, and it didn’t take long. He was the least dressed person there. Her cheeks flamed at the sight of his almost bare backside. Glade tried taking her eyes away, but it was so different seeing him so undressed in the light of day. It was so much more exposed than skinning dipping as teens, and she had no idea why.

Finnick was speaking with Katniss, though she knew that it was more likely him flirting with her. She could tell by how visibly uncomfortable the young girl was. Determined to save her, Glade made her way through the groups of Victors waiting for the parade to begin. Her delighted expression faded and became stoic the closer she got to them.

Eve Rosamund, the tribute for District Ten and the Victor of the Hunger Games twenty years before, swooped in and took her attention off Finnick and the District Twelve girl. Her golden locks were pulled back into a complicated bun that was a twist of dozens of braids. Her outfit was a tight fitting top that had a variety of animal prints while her legs were hidden beneath the thigh high, leather boots. Bull horns adorned her head as a train of tan silk attached to her waist flowed behind her. She gave her a large hug and squeezed her tight.