Times's Winding Down

The sea of colors, patterns and flashing lights takes my breath away for a moment. I stand motionless in front of the limousine and try to get an idea of the scene. The building has taken up the entire sky and the glaring light seems to pour over my head like it's made of liquid gold. And still in such a way that you don't have to avert your eyes, blinded. A masterpiece.

Cameras are pointed at me from all sides, closely following my every step. The flash is already leaving white dots in my field of vision. They're calling my name and I don't know where to turn my head. It only takes a second, then I get my act together and put on a supreme smile that I've been practicing all morning. They didn't let any fans onto the site, for which I'm extremely grateful. I take a few steps onto the red carpet that has been rolled out in front of my feet and turn to the side so that the photographers have enough time to take pictures.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Haymitch get out of the car. He can hardly hide the shock on his face. It is too much. He doesn't like the glamour, never liked it. Our eyes meet, but I turn my head to the side. I'm still too angry about his point of view.

Without waiting for him, I keep walking forward, snapping a photo or two here and there before I reach the massive staircase in front of the huge entrance. Veins of Glass is engraved in silver letters above the metal frame of the building. Appropriate name.

Next to me someone snorts and I turn my face to see Haymitch trying to ignore the paparazzi. He stopped next to me and examines me. "Only they could give the thing a name like that," he murmurs grim and before I can stop it, he links arms with me.

"What's that about?" I ask a bit pointedly and he gives me a look.

"I very much doubt that you can climb these stairs without help," Haymitch says and nods up the stairs. They are incredibly wide and longer than normal stairs. And it's quite a long way...

Before I can reply something unfriendly, he is already gently pulling me up the steps. And it's really more problematic than I thought. The dress is too tight and gives my feet little room to move normally or even climb stairs. I can only walk in small double steps.

Haymitch is actually some help. Not that I would ever tell him that. He tries not to be impatient with me and supports me with an arm around my waist. But he cannot simply undo his words. Once we make it to the top of the stairs, I carefully wriggle out of his arm to put some safe distance between us. "Thanks."

He peers in my direction and sighs at the look on my face. "You do realize I didn't mean you, right?"

I have a comment on my lips for a moment, but then think better of it and pretend I didn't hear him. Without replying, I step towards the huge entrance. It is located between the two pillars. Above me, they have already intertwined, giving some shade. The outer panels of the walls consist of a huge pane of glass, with only the entrance framed in silver metal.

I've barely gone two steps when Haymitch grabs my forearm and gently pulls me back towards him, almost forcing me to look at him. His gray eyes are large and look at me seriously. "You're not like them, Effie. I know that."

"What did you mean then?" I ask him uncertainly, taken aback by his words.

"I-" The look in his eyes is pained. "You know I'm not on good terms with the Capitol," he finally murmurs, motioning for me to move forward.

I feel like ignoring his silent request, but we're standing in the middle of the red carpet and if we don't move right away, speculation is going to start. I sigh and turn around and keep walking. I don't need to hear his footsteps to know he's following me.

As soon as we pass the entrance area, we are in a huge hall and I stop abruptly, so that Haymitch almost runs into me.

The hall is much higher than expected, and the sunlight casts a pleasant glow into the hall. Much of the light has to reflect off the windows because no matter which side I look out from, the sun doesn't blind me. The floor is made of the most expensive marble and is polished completely smooth. A line of Avoxes silently follow some Peacekeepers into a back room. A few silver chairs here and there. Then nothing. No furniture No people. Except for the man who's heading straight towards us.

"Welcome, welcome to the Veins of Glass," he purrs, waving with raised arms. "Miss Trinket, Mr. Abernathy, I'm so glad you found your way here! Especially you, Miss Trinket, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this opportunity." His wig is fiery red, this summer's trend color, and his eyes are huge with joy.

As soon as he's within reach, he grabs my hand and kisses the back of my hand. Then he shakes hands with Haymitch and just beams at us for a moment. I can't help but smile back politely. Of course, Haymitch doesn't think of that.

Then the elderly gentleman suddenly hits his forehead. He doesn't seem to care that much about the manners of gestures. Suddenly he looks eerily familiar to me. "Oh, I completely forgot to introduce myself! My apologies again!" His voice goes up an octave and his hand has smeared some of his makeup, but I'm polite enough not to mention it. A sideways glance at Haymitch tells me he's clearly amused.

"I'm Alastair Warren, one of the senior directors of Capitol Architecture. Remember me?" And suddenly I recognize him. Of course, he's the Alastair Warren, my father's eternal business partner. How could I not recognize him immediately?

I just stand there and stare at him for a moment, then I start to laugh and shake his hand again. My father would appreciate it very much if I behaved kindly towards his co-workers. Not that I wouldn't otherwise. Except I'm too surprised to find anyone from my father's company here. I don't remember my father telling me that he was involved in the construction of the new sponsors' lounge.

While we're talking about their company, we step into one of the elevators across the hall. As we walk, Haymitch takes hold of my arm again and just won't let go.

"I always hoped to recruit you for our cause after you graduated," Warren sighs ruefully. "But now look at the success you've achieved on your own. I hardly believe that architecture could be compared with that."

I give him my fake smile. "What did you call the building just now ?" I ask politely distantly and bat my eyelashes. Haymitch is about to burst out laughing. His body trembles next to mine and he has to suppress a grin.

"Veins of Glass," Warren repeats, apparently delighted that I jump back to their building. The elevator moves silently. "The planning took a lot out of your father and me, maybe you noticed," he notes. No, I actually didn't notice since I've not been living at home for the past fifteen years or so. And the many times I've visited, he hasn't said a word about it. Not even my mother. He must have kept it a secret, otherwise I can't explain it. "Our best engineers managed to design and built it in just one year. So amazing, just like the new gadgets we installed. You'll both see them soon and probably be able to try them out for yourself." His face shines and he smiles at me. "Among other things, it offers even better ways to watch the tributes in the arena. You can now see them at night with a thermal-imaging-camera as well."

I'm only half listening. His flow of speech turns into a sea of words. Haymitch pinches my arm and grins slightly. I just roll my eyes. Alastair Warren doesn't even notice that.

"And you have to see the panorama first! It'll leave you speechless," he says with great conviction. It seems to me that he's memorized the text from one of their company-commercials that he's now quoting to us.

But he's right about the panorama. The elevator is made of glass so we can see everything. The rising sun over the other buildings graced by long streets. Like crystals. It takes my breath away. Until the elevator suddenly moves up into a dark shaft and I can't see anything. I hold my breath I close my eyes for a moment. I feel Haymitch's arm pressing against me and open them again.

At first, I don't see anything. Nothing but total white. Then, as my eyes adjust to the light, I suddenly make out shapes and colors. The vertical tunnel is made of glass again and I can look out without any trouble. Out into the infinite light.

It looks like the hallway ends in nowhere. The light is so intense that I have trouble not moving my eyes wildly. Up here, the windows are smaller and set at different angles, allowing the sunlight to break through the glass again. The little dots dance through the hallway. The floor is covered in a thick red carpet that runs down the hallway to a doorless entrance into another room. That's where the sponsors' lounge has to be.

I'm so taken aback that I keep standing in the elevator. Haymitch gives me a look.

Warren opens his mouth. "Isn't it incredible-"

"Yeah, yeah, it is," Haymitch dismisses him, annoyed, and presses the button for the first floor. "Thank you for your incredible report." He's still hooked on me. Or am I hooked on him? He then pulls me out of the elevator before the doors close and it starts moving again. A very amazed Alastair with it.

Scandalized, I pull away from his grasp. "Haymitch," I snap at him. "You can't just ..." My laughter is so loud that I have to put my hand over my mouth in shock. I can't believe he's being so tactless. And yet Alastair Warren exaggerated a bit with an exuberance. This is such a Haymitch thing to do.

Haymitch stares at me for a moment, a bit perplexed, before a grin creeps onto his face and he offers his arm to me again. Shaking my head, I accept but the smile doesn't go away.

oOo

The sponsors' lounge extends over two floors, separated from the rest of the Veins of Glass. After we pass the hallway, we have to identify ourselves before they let us in. This is where the actual lounge extends.

The first thing to catch my eyes are a huge sofa landscape and dozens of armchairs and tables. Avoxes are everywhere, offering drinks and snacks. But the real highlight is the gigantic screen that occupies the entire south wall, where there should be glass. And around us nothing but the Capitol. The panorama cannot be beat.

A staircase leads up to the roof terrace. Where one can dance, eat and have fun. I feel immense pride to think that my father is responsible for this.

There's a hustle and bustle. Sponsors and lots of colorful people talking loudly to each other. Mentors standing together and cracking their own jokes. The fronts could not be clearer. When an Avox offers us something to drink, we both decline. We immediately move on to the giant screen. On the way, I nod to Lillian, who silently responds.

As soon as we enter the room, the silence returns and hangs over us like a shadow. I lead the way and Haymitch follows me. I don't know why, but I'm getting faster with every step. Until I feel his hand on my back. I stop abruptly and turn to face him. He looks hesitant and his hand catches on my arm. "Are you okay?" he asks cautiously.

"I'm fine thank you."

Haymitch nods, even if he doesn't look completely convinced. But he seems to be dropping the subject. Instead, he stares over my shoulder at the screen. "Twenty minutes," he remarks grimly and walks on.

I follow him and notice how I'm getting more and more nervous. Although the sofa is huge, it's already too crowded to sit on it. So we blend in with the colorful crowd of escorts, mentors, and sponsors, pushing our way between them until we're close enough to see the full screen. Although the lounge is larger than in previous years, people are so cramped that I'm glad over wearing high heels and the fact that I can see over most heads.

I sigh and look at my hands that are crossed in front of my body. They tremble almost imperceptibly. My shoe taps a melody softly on the floor and I direct my gaze to the city. The sun is now fully up.

When Haymitch is suddenly pressed against me, I visibly jump. He gives me an apologetic look. We're too close together. Someone is pushing into the crowd from behind, squeezing us closer together in the front. If I leaned to the right, I could rest my head on his shoulder with no problem. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't move away from him, because there's a woman on my left who doesn't leave me any space either. He himself is pressed against me from behind. From far away someone cries out in frustration, but it's too crowded for the people to do anything.

Then my father comes. Not to us, but to the small podium that was provisionally set up in front of the screen. He looks good in the black suit. Luckily mother didn't force him into a red one. He clears his throat once and he has the full attention of the room. I tense up slightly. He's always been kind to me, but this has nothing to do with our family. This is his job. But his gaze wanders over the crowd for a moment. When he sees me, he winks at me. The big smile that stretches across my face is real. Heads turn in my direction suspiciously. Haymitch glances at me but doesn't seem to understand.

"Welcome," my father greets us all. His voice sounds deep and familiar. I wonder if maybe my mother is standing somewhere in the crowd, claiming to be watching my father when she only has eyes for me, ready to start throwing things at me about my appearance.

I nervously close my eyes and bow my head as I listen to my father talk about the planning and construction of the building. But even he can't stop the fear from eating its way through my veins. He also can't change the fact that the Hunger Games are less than fifteen minutes away. Haymitch squeezes my hand and begins to rub his thumb reassuringly over the back of my hand. I don't know what he's thinking, but it's anything but reassuring. But it helps me focus on something else. And before my mind can kick in, I clutch his hand to stop the trembling. Like a life preserver. Like it's the only thing keeping me from collapsing. Not good. Not good at all. I know that my feelings are on very thin ice. He's dropped me once before. My body doesn't seem to care.

I dare not open my eyes. I don't want to see his face. Because the next moment I lean slightly against him. Just shifting my weight a little with my shoulder, but I know he notices anyway. And he lets me. This fact suddenly makes me even more uncomfortable than the fact that Haymitch Abernathy keeps me from going completely insane. Maybe, I tell myself. Even if it is completely absurd, but maybe something has changed in him. Maybe he thinks differently about us today.

Haymitch moves and at first, I think he's telling me to stop this, but then I suddenly feel his breath against my ear and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "We don't have to stand here among all these people " he says softly, not amused or mocking, but almost serious. His hand squeezes mine briefly when I don't react immediately.

I carefully open my eyes and lift my head to look at him. Father is still talking, but I hardly hear him. His face is inches from mine, and it wouldn't be hard to-

I flinch as if he gave me an electric shock me. My eyes widen in shock and I instantly free myself from Haymitch's grip. I can't believe I was just thinking about him like that. I shake my head helplessly to get the image of his lips out of my head. Then comes the pain. It rolls over me like a wave and buries me beneath. I can't resist, because the next moment I see images flashing in front of my mind's eye. Past pictures. Suddenly I'm sick.

"I'm alright, thanks," I mumble under my breath and quickly turn to the front.

I try in vain to focus on my father as he begins to explain some important things. "Each district has its own lounge with chairs and a table. You'll also find these notepads there," he says, raising his right hand in which he's holding one. "They can also be used to communicate with sponsors while in the Training Centre and close sponsorship deals immediately without having to see each other in person." He smiles into the hall and there is light applause from some quarters.

He continues, satisfied. "Well, the sponsors are now also able to transfer their money in a much easier way. If you have any further questions, please get in touch with one of my colleagues. Oh, and I almost forgot about that, one more thing about the strategy rooms for the districts. You have your own screens there, so if you prefer to retire to the private lounge, of course the Games will be broadcasted there as well!"

My father looks around the room as if looking for someone. "Well, from my side, that's all you need to know about our new building. I'll then pass it on to one of our dear Gamemakers who could spare a quick visit." Which means nothing other than that he's can't be a big number of a Gamemaker if he's available only minutes before the Games start.

Father steps aside, leaving the dais to a tall man dressed all in white. Otherwise, he looks completely neutral. Kind of out of place. The man neither shares his identity nor says hello. Hundreds of pairs of eyes dart to the windows, only to be stunned to find that they've been blacked out. The lights go on immediately. Behind the Gamemaker, the screen flickers and a second later bathes us in a green light.

The arena is presented each year just before the start. A look at the countdown tells me that it's only four minutes.

"We came up with something special this year. Instead of a typical arena in a special climate zone, just adorned with mutations and other common dangers like we know from previous years, this year it'll be a little more systematic," explains the Gamemaker, pointing to the screen behind him.

The first thing one sees is the golden cornucopia. Surrounded by water. In a circular sequence, at some distance, are the cylindrical alignments from which the tributes will come up. They are separated by long levels stretching from the cornucopia to a beach. Twelve sectors. Perfectly symmetrical. A forest stretches behind the beach. Not one that resembles the trees from the last few games, but a jungle.

"It was inspired and designed by a normal clock-face. And it also has the same function. At regular intervals, during each hour, a different threat will become active in a new sector. They're not always deadly," he says, pausing for a moment to look around the room. " ... but can also cause psychological damage. We'll start at twelve o'clock and then continue with ordinary time. This means that their time can be adjusted to ours, as usual." With a nervous hand movement, he glances at the countdown. He has already completely exhausted his time. The last minute rolls on. The man nods to the crowd and disappears without another word.

The lights go out and the windows turn their usual, see-through color again. They switch to the usual program of the Hunger Games, so now Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith are cut in live.

I press my lips together nervously and look at Haymitch. My concern is reflected in his eyes. Sighing, he leans back as far as he can in the middle of the masses and directs his gaze back to the screen, where they are now announcing the countdown and showing the arena.

As the tributes appear, I hold my breath. It doesn't take long for me to spot Peeta, but I only find Katniss some moments later. Her sight is a shock.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the seventy-fifth Hunger Games are about to start!" Claudius Templesmith's voice pierces my bones. The first people around us begin to cheer.

Katniss kneels on the metal base as if she's too weak to stand up straight and her face is scared and contorted in pain. The base comes to a standstill and she lifts her head and is immediately blinded by the sun. It must be unbearably hot because I see her gasp.

Silence. 10 ...

Startled, I turn back to Haymitch. "What's wrong with her?" I ask softly, but he shakes his head.

A low murmur goes through the room. 8 ...

"She's not hurt," he states. "I don't know ... Cinna certainly didn't make the goodbye tragic, but I know-" He stops abruptly and finally turns his head in my direction. Only to quickly turn it away again shortly. Cinna.

Whispers become chatter. 6 ...

A dismayed sound escapes me and I cover my mouth. Haymitch gives me a warning look. He's right. I can't let my feelings affect me now. Not here.

And chatter turns to shouts. 4 ...

Without thinking, I grab his hand. We don't look at each other but I know he needs it as much as I do. Though he'd probably never admit it. The only reaction from him is the tight squeeze around my hand.

The excitement spreads like wildfire. 2 ...

"We'll be fine with this, " I say firmly, raising my head resolutely. For them, because it won't be the end that kills us, but the memory.

The wheel of time stops just to see how much we beg to turn it back. To give us a second of illusion. 1 ...

The gong sounds. Katniss jumps. The games begin. Katniss swims. The people around us erupt in cheers. Peeta is still standing on his metal plate. A loud jubilation can be heard. Katniss reaches the cornucopia. They toast.

Finnick gets himself in Katniss's way. He smiles. He has a gold bracelet around his arm.

I suddenly glare at Haymitch angrily. "You gave him your bracelet?" I ask, almost gritting my teeth, and snatch my hand away from him again.

Haymitch's eyes are fixed on the screen and he scowls as he watches what's going on around him. Suddenly his words come back to me. Once the gong rings and the Games start, they'll all forget about it anyway.

"You were right," I whisper, fighting my way out of the masses and taking a step toward the Avox at the edge of the crowds to grab a glass. "Come on, we didn't come here for the fun."

I can see how much effort it takes Haymitch not to reply something derogatory. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest and reluctantly joins me. I hand him a glass and he accepts it gratefully. For a while we observe what is happening in the arena.

Katniss seems a bit skeptical of Finnick but knows she's better off with an alliance. She stares at the golden bracelet and finally agrees.

"Good girl," Haymitch murmurs, taking a long gulp.

Haymitch now has the opportunity to choose sponsorship gifts together with the mentors from 4. And having Finnick Odair on board can only be an advantage.

"You could've at least told me that you gave it to Finnick," I say as the two search the cornucopia. They don't have much time left because a tribute from 5 draws closer from the left.

"Duck!" Finnick commands and the next moment his spear is stuck in the chest of the victor who has fallen to his knees.

I sigh and look away. Not because I can't stand death, but because I just don't feel like it.

People scream in confusion. The first bets are settled. We have good cards. We start working immediately. Haymitch talks to 4's mentors and I deal with the sponsors. After getting them their third sponsor, I take a break and join some other escorts.

"How long do you think red will be fashionable?" asks Odelia, escort of District 1, looking down flustered at her long red feather-gown. It doesn't suit her at all, and she seems to notice that herself.

"Who knows," remarks Flora, escort of 11, giving me an exaggerated smile. "If Katniss wins again this year, I'm sure the color will last for a while." She claps her hands as she does so. Flora has never made a secret of the fact that she hates Chaff. But to be so happy about his apparent death crosses a line, doesn't it?

Odelia gives me a malicious look. "No chance, dear, Gloss and Cashmere will make her beg for mercy and I don't think Odair will come to her rescue then," she says mockingly, smiles arrogantly and then turns on her heel and disappears to her lounge.

I laugh and shake my head at her behavior. "Did someone get up on the wrong side of bed?"

"You know how she is," Lillian, Finnick's escort, notes pointedly. "Arrogance is a defect in her ego that someone should fix." Flora smiles thinly and when our eyes meet I know we're thinking the same thing. Lillian is incredibly arrogant herself. But it's also never been a secret that the two like to bully each other.

Lillian puts her glass of champagne down on the tray of an Avox and without giving him a second glance, she rummages in her bag for a hand mirror. She fiddles about her bright red wig. "I hate wigs with rhinestones," she murmurs annoyed, trying to adjust the small black diamonds in her hair. They match perfectly with her floor-length black lace dress, which is covered with colorful stones on her upper body.

Offended, Flora looks down at herself and must feel underdressed immediately. Because that's what she is. Her short beige bob is matched with a silly boring dress and her nonexistent curves can't fill the fabric either. It's not like push-ups don't exist yet.

Instead of either of us telling Lillian she looks fabulous, we tighten our mouths. Escorts never compliment each other. We are eternal competitors.

"Duty calls," I remark, then excusive myself with an effusive smile. I find Haymitch sitting on the sofa with a sponsor. I join them with a smile.

"Well, her charisma is enormous. I'm sure she'll get far," the sponsor notes forebodingly, watching Katniss onscreen as she runs through the jungle with Finnick, Peeta, and Mags .

"We're sure of it," Haymitch replies quickly, glancing at me. "And the two have the advantage of being in excellent form because of the last Games."

The man looks thoughtfully, wearing in a red suit - more like a bathrobe - and orange sunglasses, seemingly weighing Katniss's odds. "All right," he finally says. "Count me in." The rest is quick. Haymitch tells him a sum and the sponsor transfers it to our account without comment. Because we are allied with District 4, all sponsorship funds are shared.

After him, we get us some more sponsors. Some are easy to convince, others require all our strength, and still others are too smitten with Careers to divert their attention elsewhere. We're in the middle of a conversation, although I knew from the start that the lady wasn't going to change her mind, when suddenly there's a loud bang and we all turn to face the screen. Haymitch and I stand a short distance from it, giving us a clear view.

Peeta has been caught in the force field and lies motionless on the muddy ground. While Finnick and Mags take a second to realize what happened, Katniss already jumps to the ground next to Peeta. Along the way, they replay the scene and one can see that just before the impact, Katniss suddenly utters a warning, but too late.

We can only watch helplessly. "Looks like Miss Everdeen should say goodbye to the love of her life early. Too bad," remarks Claudius Templesmith, looking at the camera with a mixture of joy and regret.

"That seems to be a dramatic turn of events!" comments Caesar, startled.

Complete silence has settled in the room. Peeta looks more dead than alive, and Katniss yells his name frantically. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and she shakes Peeta's shoulders as if this will change something. Then she presses her ear to his chest and the screams suddenly turn into hysterical shrieks.

The people around us are dead silent. Unlike usual. Normally they would start to change courses by now, renew bets. But nothing like that. They stare spellbound at the screen. Frightened. Stunned.

I dare not breathe. My heart is racing and I can't control it. Is he dead? What will Katniss do? Will Finnick break the alliance? Will she keep going at all?

Suddenly Finnick is at her side and I panic for a moment. I hear blood rushing in my ears. I'm trying to say something. My throat is silent. Not a word. No sound.

Finnick is doing something. I can't make out exactly what it is, but his reaction makes Katniss flare up with anger. She wants to throw herself at him, but Finnick has her catapulted into the nearest tree with a handshake. What's gotten into him? He didn't promise me anything. He didn't mention the two once. Would he turn against them?

Finnick then leans over Peeta and kisses him on the mouth. Is that how you say goodbye to the dead in District 4? He never told me about it. That would be quite an unusual custom.

It's only when he repeats the process, pinching his nose, kissing him again, and then unzipping his overall and massaging his chest, that it dawns on me what he's doing. Finnick tries to revive him.

"Someone is very fortunate to have Odair on her team," I hear Caesar say. "Incredible!"

And Katniss slowly seems to understand what Finnick is doing because she visibly relaxes and lets him continue. Mags sits down next to her and pats her shoulder reassuringly.

Peeta coughs and a murmur goes through the hall. "A true miracle!" Katniss jumps up, almost knocking Mags over in the process, and lunges at Peeta, who struggles to sit up. He coughs again and takes a deep breath.

"Watch out, there's a force field ahead," he says, letting Katniss pull him into a painful hug. The crowd laughs. Even Katniss laughs, although it sounds no less hysterical.

-

Hi!

The Games are on!

Veins of Glass is such an uncreative name I'm sorry haha but maybe it's just uncreative enough that the Capitol would use it lol. Yet another new face from Effie's life presented today, although he's not of importance for the story in general. Maybe you remember his name from chapter 7, where Effie mentions him while talking to her mother.

And then of course Peeta's encounter with the force field. Of course we all know how that ends, so it's not a real cliffhanger.

What do you think about this chapter? I'd be glad if you let me know! :)

See you in two weeks,
Skyllen