TAURA SMOOTHED down the silk-like fabric that made her dress. It varied in shades of rich, warm browns and earthy greens. Her collar had been made of faux fur, which had apparently been made to resemble the softness of a calf's coat, according to one of her stylists, Kuro. Her headpiece was a tiara that was made of silver and gold, shaped like intertwining horns, which created a regal yet animalistic aura.

In the corner of the mirror, she could spot Porter in his own outfit just feet away. He had been staring at himself in his own mirror, having his stylist touch up his hair that fell gently upon his forehead in soft, brown curls. Taura couldn't help but smile as she turned his way.

He'd worn a costume similar to hers—a well-fitted, tailored suit in deep earthy tones. It mirrored the colors present in Taura's gown. He even wore a pair of trousers with a faint herringbone pattern, reminiscent of traditional workwear. To complete his ensemble, Porter held a sophisticated tie on his chest. The tie clip was shaped like a horseshoe, adding a subtle yet meaningful touch.

"You look like you brought a whole farm with you," Taura said as she stepped over to him. His stylist left him alone as she went to go fetch some more tools.

"Yeah? We look the same," he reminded her, and Taura grinned as she stood beside him, and the two posed side by side in front of the large mirror. Porter blinked a few times as he faltered before himself, his gaze falling to his hands. "Senner said there's a chance we could call it off. Everyone—the Games, the riots . . . Back to normal."

Taura huffed, a hint of a smile on her lips as she parted from him. "Normal?" she asked, approaching the curtains and pulling them back to peek behind them. She pulled off of them as she stood again. "We can't just achieve any form of normality like that. Not anytime soon. Not after Katniss and Peeta. Especially not after that."

Porter's stylist walked in to puff some shimmer onto his cheekbones, just as some final touches. Taura was sure she would get her own taste of it if Porter had them done.

"They're throwing us back in. That has to count for something," Porter said as he stayed hopeful. He watched his stylist, then looked to Taura. "And after Katniss and Peeta, why not even more so now? The Capitol is in love with them. If Haymitch doesn't make a move and use that to their advantage, then it's a lost cause. Otherwise?"

"Otherwise," Taura trailed as she placed her hand upon her hips. Porter's stylist left him to help dab a fluffy brush across Taura's face, in which she closed her eyes. "You have a point," she confessed, and Porter's gaze softened.

      There was a head that peeked out from the velvet curtains, as the two turned around to greet the familiar face.

       "Haymitch," Taura said, almost afraid like he had overheard them talking about him. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

       He watched with interest as he stepped into the room, without Katniss and Peeta by his sides. He was coming alone.

       "I have a proposal for you," he claimed, standing before the young Victors with his memorable smile. "The both of you."

        In confusion, Taura arched an eyebrow. She hesitantly looked to Porter, wondering if he knew at all what Haymitch was about to tell them. When it had gone silent amongst the three of them, Taura and Porter looked to Haymitch again.

THE HORSE BREATHED slowly, calmly like it had been at peace. Taura's hand curved out the horse's mane gently, and she watched for its behavior. Porter stuck close to her, just two feet away as he looked around the open room. Every tribute had been present, ready for the Tribute Parade to take place in the next fifteen minutes. It was nearly showtime.

It was a sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach every time Porter's eyes would land on a new district. He watched everyone briefly, just moments at a time, before moving on to someone else. There was just something about seeing these people and knowing they were probably just as in fear as he was deep down, but never let anyone see it, that was disheartening.

      "I still don't know," Taura murmured as she let her hand follow along the horse's head before she pulled away, having been told not to touch them by one of the Capitol handlers.

      "You do. You're just scared," Porter said as he watched the Victors from District 5. "I am, too. But we can't just think for ourselves. You have to understand that."

       Haymitch proposed a plan to protect his beloved star-crossed Victors. Half of the tributes that year were to protect Katniss and Peeta, and agreed. If you were going to die, anyway, might as well keep the Mockingjay alive to potentially end the Games and the Capitol once and for all.

      Now Taura was trapped between her thoughts. She only talked to Peeta just months ago. She didn't know if he would remember her but there was always a chance he could ally out of desperation, unless they were to choose an alliance before the Games. She needed to talk to them.

Finnick Odair sauntered over with his characteristic charm, his sea-green eyes reflecting a mix of confidence and weariness. Taura and Porter turned their attention to him, the horse momentarily forgotten in the presence of the Victor.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite District 10 duo," Finnick greeted, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Taura, you still look like you could scare off a Capitol mutt."

Taura chuckled. "Haymitch approached me not long after the Reaping, said you both were going to be involved, too," Finnick said, his gaze lingering over some of the tributes. In a taunting tone, he continued, "You know how it goes—protect the Mockingjay at all costs."

Taura exchanged a knowing glance with Finnick. "A rebellion sparked by a berry trick. If we're going down, it's going to be with a purpose," she hissed, her eyes unwavering.

Finnick's gaze flickered with understanding. "Always with you, Taura. And Porter, I hear you're the voice of reason around here. We could use more of that."

Porter nodded appreciatively, acknowledging the compliment. "We stick with Twelve," he affirmed, referring to him and Taura.

As they shared their disdain for the Capitol's twisted games, Finnick bid them farewell. "Alright, you two. It's almost showtime. Remember, alliances can be made in the most unexpected places. Talk to them before they decide. Forge a bond. It could make all the difference."

His hand gently rested on Taura's shoulder, a subtle reassurance. "Now, go out there and give the Capitol a show they won't forget. Surely, Twelve will."

Taura and Porter watched as Finnick smoothly made his exit, leaving them to digest his words. Taura's gaze lingered on Peeta and Katniss in the distance. The desire to approach them tugged at her, but a voice interrupted her thoughts, calling for places in the chariots.

Taura shot a determined glance at Porter, the unspoken agreement passing between them. As they were escorted to their chariot, she couldn't help but steal a last glance towards District 12, wondering how she would manage to create that vital bond before the tributes chose their alliances. The countdown to the Tribute Parade had begun, and the fate of alliances, bonds, and survival hung in the balance.