The Varda Gala. Open

e m e r a l d .

You don't have to hide your love away and
I know that I'm gonna make mistakes but
Leaning on somebody isn't easy
I'll do what I can to make you see, oh

I stand at the top of the marble staircase, looking down over the Great Hall. Everything is perfect, from the banners bearing the Tributes' faces to the giant screens to the gleaming woodwork and polished marble. The large front doors are flanked by a pair of tuxedoed butlers, and Orion stands ready to check invitations and announce guests as they arrive.

My gown is likewise perfect, a flowing creation of ivory and gold, sleeveless with a tight bodice and long train. For jewelry, I have opted for simplicity with a plain gold choker and matching earrings. My hair is mostly loose, flowing down my back, but with elaborate braids to keep it off my face and bare shoulders.

Everything is ready, and I feel a flutter in my stomach in anticipation. I have been carefully planning this Gala for many months in preparation for the Quell, and today it will all come to fruition. Waiting just out of sight are an army of waiters, ready to serve hors d'oeuvres and sparkling wine. In the ballroom and dining room, the first round of dishes are already set out on huge sideboards, and the bartenders are ready with wine and spirits.

Satisfied that everything is ready, I descend the staircase and position myself in the hall so that I can greet the guests as they enter. Looking to me for approval, Orion nods to the butlers who pull open the doors, and the guests begin to arrive.

e m e r a l d .

You don't have to hide your love away and
I know that I'm gonna make mistakes but
Leaning on somebody isn't easy
I'll do what I can to make you see, oh

The guests enter in ones or twos and are announced by Orion. Many of them I know already, but others I am meeting for the first time. As I greet each in turn, we exchange a few pleasantries before they move off to find drinks and food, or greet other guests they have recognized. The waiters have begun mingling to deliver sparkling wine and appetizers, and the screens are showing replays of Tribute interviews as we wait for the Games to begin.

So far none of the Mentors have arrived, of course, but that makes sense since they will be working with their Tributes until the last possible moment. None of the true Elite have arrived yet either, but I know most of them will be fashionably late because they all want to be seen by the others when they arrive.

As I scan the crowd for new arrivals, I am approached by a flamboyant gentleman I do not recognize. His red suit is of obvious quality, and he exudes an air of confidence as he bows to me dramatically. I respond with a polite curtsey, and offer my hand which he lightly brushes with his lips in greeting.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Varda," he begins, replacing his top hat on his head. "My name is Patryk Sho. I'm the founder of the Sho Travelling Circus. It's an honor to be invited here today. I'd like to thank you for such an opportunity."

His informal speech indicates a lower birth, but his words are polite enough, and he would never have been invited to begin with if he had not earned some measure of respect among the Capitol Elite.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Sho," I respond, smiling politely. "I cannot say that I am familiar with you, or your Circus. Is it interesting work?" A waiter comes by then with a tray of sparkling wine. I take a glass for myself, and the waiter offers one to Patryk as well.

k a t e l y n .

I hope no one does to you what you did to me
I wouldn't wish it upon you, no not anybody
But only I could've dealt with what you put me through

The gala was set to be the largest Capitol event of the quell. An extravagant affair with a buffet of delicacies, a wine cellar’s worth of alcohol and more guests than peacekeepers that had been sent to eleven during the lockdown.

Yes, a true marvel.

Katelyn found herself missing Vasco, Indie and those tasty empanadas they’d shared while sitting around the table.

Now that was a party.

Though she supposed that she was dressed for something like the gala than Vasco’s dining room.

She trusted the stylist knew their stuff; they were a real up and comer after all. The flowing dress was crimson red, a color that was supposed to make people hungry. Form-fitting in the all the right places. Black silk stockings that left little to the imagination. She’d told Sampson she needed something that would turn heads, and they had delivered. She walked slowly, the six-inch heels that the stylist had insisted she wear clicking on the tile. With the heels increasing her height to 6’5 she could tower over practically everyone but Colgate.

That being said, she wasn’t certain how many of the other victors would be at this thing, willingly or otherwise.

Except of course, for the victor on her arm. As they entered, a man whose demeanor and build said bodyguard of a sort, checked their invitations and then announced them to the room. She had to refrain from wincing, but it was to be expected at this sort of thing. All people important to the Capitol would be introduced like this.

"Ms. Katelyn Persimmon, victor of the sixty-ninth annual hunger games. Mrs. Opal Earnest Née Shore, victor of the sixty-fourth annual hunger games," he boomed. Katelyn drew near to the hostess, who was engaged in conversation with a man she swore she’d seen somewhere before. Was he that circus man perhaps? In any case, once they were done talking she inclined her head respectfully. “Thank you for the invitation, Ms.Varda. Happy hunger games and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

God, she was tired of saying that.

Katelyn kissed Opal’s cheek and told her she’d find her later. After all, they both had a job to do.

***

It wasn’t like the bloodbaths she’d watched as a child. Or the one she’d participated in. The tributes were more cautious, the movements less frenetic. A lot of scrabbling in the dirt and smacking people that got too close. There were sighs of disappointment all around her as tributes started to flee. The number of tributes around the Cornucopia shrunk quickly and people started to boo when they realized that there wasn’t going to be any death.

Fucking candy colored vultures. The games weren’t a goddamn game, it was life and death and it was rare that anyone participating actually enjoyed what they were doing. Pretty soon there were only five tributes still around and actually fighting in earnest. The girl from three was trying desperately to load her crossbow, but her stance was off due to a knee injury, and the other tributes seemed to be allied.

Katelyn looked away instinctively as the Morningstar swung in the girl’s direction, pretending to be interested in the hors d’oeuvres the avox nearest to her was holding. A few seconds later there was an audible crunch and the crowd at the gala erupted into whoops and gasps; a few disappointed sighs as well. The canon fired shortly afterwards and Katelyn looked back to see that the screen had gone back to Flickerman and Templesmith discussing what would happen now that the bloodbath was over as there was still no sign of a twist.

Katelyn closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was not good. Any year that the bloodbath failed to thin the playing field, sponsorship was harder to come by. It made some sponsors want to hedge their bets, spending a pittance on useless items on a few tribs that had caught their eye; hoping to bribe them to do something exciting, but it made many more wish to wait and see until a few tributes stood out from the pack. Even with the commentators lauding district seven for taking the wealth with johnwayne and the spitfire from district six, the mood in the room seemed a bit put out.

Worse still, Cyro and Arabella hadn’t done anything to stand out, other than cyro’s face looking like an eggplant on account of the broken nose and double black eyes. It didn’t give her a lot to work with to convince people to sponsor them and she had a feeling there were items the two of them would be needing.

“Where’s the severed limbs?” she heard someone pout. “I wanted some real action.”

Katelyn considered telling him that she could cut his hand off if he wanted to see blood fly so bad, but she held her tongue. She couldn’t afford to pop off to every idiot who said something to irritate her, not when she needed their money. She drifted around the room, sipping a lemon water and listening to the rich and powerful of the Capitol air their grievances and cheer on their favorites.

More than a few people seemed to be sour about the money they’d bet on the careers. A poor showing. Emmett and Jade had been fan-favorites for early betting, with their high training scores leading many people to believe that they’d be deadly at soon as the fighting started. Instead, both of them had disappointingly fled after throwing a few punches. Jade had broken a hand at least, but Katelyn received the sentiment that many people had expected them to do more, especially with Opal coming back to the Capitol to mentor.

She hoped they wouldn’t judge Opal too harshly for her tributes actions. Because if they did, she just might forget herself and accidently spill a drink on someone.

Other than the gripes about those training scores though, there was just a lot of speculation about whether or not any tributes would take it upon themselves to hunt, when the twist would be revealed and what the game-makers would do to add some much-needed excitement. Most years that had a bloodbath like this, spicing things up meant unleashing a whole menagerie of mutts the next day, and then forcing fights between the large alliances by the third day of the games.

Eventually, she found herself by the refreshment table again, and a man with red hair who she’d seen walking around earlier. He was an odd one, as he had seemed to be studying the crowd more than anything else. Odd could be good. Usually meant someone who wasn’t entirely enamored of the games from a fan standpoint, but a money making standpoint instead. Maybe he’d be a decent sponsor, but Ms.Varda was close as well. It was probably best to see how she was enjoying the games, and then work her way down the totem pole from there.

“Hello again, Ms.Varda,” she said, raising her glass in the young woman’s direction. “And how are you finding the quell so far?”

e m e r a l d .

You don't have to hide your love away and
I know that I'm gonna make mistakes but
Leaning on somebody isn't easy
I'll do what I can to make you see, oh

The Bloodbath was a little disappointing, with very little fighting. I am secretly pleased that most of the Tributes survived, even though I know that the majority of them will die over the next few days regardless. Others at the Gala are less enthusiastic about the lack of bloodshed. I see Theo wandering around the Great Hall, making his own greetings and introductions.

As I continue my way around the room, I stop every so often to chat with this person or that. Despite the overall lack of violence so far, most seem to be intrigued by this Quell. Bloodless as it has been, we all know that it will not remain so for long, the Gamemakers would never allow that. Conversation turns to discussing the current Alliances, or speculating about when and what the Quell twist will be.

"Hello again, Ms. Varda," I turn to find Katelyn Persimmon, raising her glass in greeting. I match her toast with my own glass and sip my wine. "And how are you finding the Quell so far?"

"Oh, the Games are always so lovely," I reply graciously. "Certainly there has been less excitement thus far than is usual, but I suppose that is to be expected with such an unusual arena. The fact that the twist is unknown is likely making the Tributes more cautious as well."

I nod to a few others in passing before continuing. "And you? Surely you must be proud of your own Tributes, Cyro and Arabella, was it not? They both made it away from the Cornucopia safely."

Before I can say more, another woman approaches me in greeting. "Emerald Varda, what a marvelous party! It is such a pleasure to see you." I recognize her, of course, Olivia Montferrat. I have never had any personal contact with her before, obviously, but Father has met with her and other members of Panem's government in the past. "Your family has never failed to live up to expectations. I daresay we owe you all a debt for understanding how important our traditions are."

I smile politely in thanks, and incline my head respectfully in her direction. "No thanks are necessary Madam Montferrat. It is truly a pleasure to have the opportunity to give something back to the people Panem."

"Always such a wonder, watching these games. I do so enjoy the reminder that the Districts know their place. And how the Capitol is everything." The look on her face is hard for me to read, but her words remind me of Theo and Father. They too have expressed similar sentiments regarding the Games.

"Oh, I am not much interested in the politics of the whole thing," I reply, waving my free hand a little dismissively, accompanied by a small laugh. "My interest is in the story of the Games, the passion and sacrifice of the Tributes who fight to remind us all of the pain that bought us our freedom."

A waiter approaches and whispers something in my ear. "Yes, of course, if they are ready, they can begin immediately." He bows politely and retreats, and I turn back to the others. "If you are at all interested, the Capitol First Chamber Orchestra is about to begin a special performance in honor of the Quell, out on the terrace." Made up of only the finest classical musicians in the Capitol, the First Chamber Orchestra has long been a staple entertainment for upper class citizens.

I make my way out to the terrace, and see that others have begun to assemble, chatting excitedly in anticipation. As usual, the Orchestra opens with Panem's anthem, and the applause following it is deafening. I smile, very pleased that the Gala is such a success.

o p a l .

Opal had held her breathe time and time again after the gong had rang out and the children had rushed into the chaos. It had been so long since she had sat and watched a game live-streamed for their entertainment. The glass of wine she had in her hand almost shattered every time someone made a move at Jade or Emmett. Her hand was white-knuckled, the other tearing into the fabric of the chair as she dug her fingers in.

She hated it so fucking much. Ripred the anxiety that writhed writhes within her body was barely kept at bay as she chugged down another glass of wine. Honestly, she was relieved when the kids escaped, not staying to face Will Johnwayne as he stood to claim the wealth. She watched as Jade went to help one of her allies, the girl from district three, just to watch her get struck down. They both had escaped with little damage and very few items, but she could let the air escape knowing they had survived the Bloodbath.

The invitation Miss Varda had given her the other day lay on the coffee table. Knowing for a brief few hours that her tributes would be safe she finally moved away from the chair. Her legs ached, but it was time to face the music and the Capitolites as they glorified the 85th Hunger Games.

---

The aim of the game tonight was to dress to impress, it seemed that Katelyn had had the same idea. Her girlfriend looked jaw-droppingly good, and with the heels she wore she towered over Opal. She had opted for one of her skin tight dresses, a shimmering gold that reached her ankles, a split that run all the way up to her waist on the right leg. Her fake leg safely tucked away as best as it could be. Her hair was down, billowing around her shoulders and she swept it to one side.

The makeup was unusually heavy, her lips a bright charming red, eyes smokey with a hint of glitter on each lid. The heels she wore were nothing like Katelyn’s, she’d never got used to walking in higher heels with her fake leg, it hurt too much. The guard that ushered them into the venue annoyingly announced their arrival, Opal’s hand tightened around Katelyn’s as the crowd paused for a moment to stare at the newest arrivals. She was not made for these kinds of events.

They spent a few moments greeting their host, Opal let Katelyn take the lead, simply nodding along, before acknowledging Miss Varda with a quick thank you for having them. Katelyn leaned over, planting a kiss on Opal’s cheek before disappearing into the crowd. Then she was all alone, the warmth of Katelyn’s touch lingering by her side.

She knew she had a job to do, hunt down some people to sponsor her tributes, but she wasn’t ready to, not just yet. Instead, she walked over to the nearest waiter carrying a tray of champagne, waving him down she gave him a tight smile before grabbing to glasses. “One for me and my girlfriend,” Opal laughed nervously, the waiter eyeing her for a moment before he was swallowed by the crowd. She drank the first one quickly, placing the empty cup down on the first table she could find.

That was when she noticed Nico Thorne standing not too far away, his face sprouting a tight scowl. Opal shifted her gaze to the person he was talking to, in time to see Annie Morrison. Shit. This couldn’t be good. Opal had no problem remembering Annie telling her all about their friendship and the article headlines filled with Nico’s questionable comments. She raised an eyebrow, clutching her second glass of champagne as she bee-lined for the young victor. As she moved closer, she could make out the words that he was saying over the-

“Oh, you’d make a nice corpse, Morrison.”

A waiter walked by her, carrying a plate of mini quiches just as she reached Nico and Annie. Thinking on her feet she snagged a few pieces, just as Nico went to open his mouth and throw another insult Opal stepped in, shoving one of the quiches in its place.

“You looked hungry,” Opal said, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him away from Annie. She pulled him a few more steps before stopping and facing him. “You can’t-” the growl was almost too loud, curious eyes turning in their direction, Opal lowered her voice “-the fuck is wrong with you, Nico?”

She offered him another quiche.