𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 ☘︎ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞

𝐌𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐉𝐀𝐘 ☘︎ 4

I stand in a studio, behind a wall that will surely be a wrecked warplace on the green screen. I have my axes in one hand and a pole (that will be turned into a flag on the screen) in the other.

"Cinna's final touch," Effie says as she pins my gold mockingjay pin to my suit. My mockingjay suit that Cinna designed for me.

She looks at me. My hair is in a single plait, curling round to my front. There is layer upon layer of makeup on my face, and apart from that, my suit covers the rest of my body.

"Everyone's either gonna kiss you, kill you, or be you," Effie concludes, running off the stage and behind the cameras.

"Perfect," Plutarch's voice comes from the editing studio beyond the stage. "Absolutely perfect. Now, let's bring up the setting."

The war ground setting obviously comes up in the studio, but I'm none the wiser. "A little wind," Plutarch pushes another button, making the fans in front of me spin and make my hair blow around a bit.

"Okay, Willow, we're gonna start you down on one knee, and when you're ready, you're gonna rise up, raise your flag in the air and deliver your line," Plutarch directs.

"Okay," I say unsurely.

But, looking back, I should've known this was going to crash and burn as soon as he said that.

"And remember, you've just stormed the outskirts of the Capitol, arm in arm with your brothers and sisters."

"Okay."

I go down to one knee, waiting for around ten seconds before rising up and shouting my very bad line.

"People of Panem, we fight, we dare we-"

I stop, having forgotten the line.

"Does she know the line?" Plutarch asks.

"Yes," I say, rolling my eyes. It's not my fault their rubbish lines are stupid.

"She's warming up!" Effie exclaims excitedly.

"Okay, okay, alright," Plutarch says good naturedly as I kneel down again. "With energy - go!"

I stand up. "People of Panem, we fight, we dare to end this hunger for justice!"

"You've just been in battle!" Plutarch shouts from the studio. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you've just been in battle. Let's try it again, whenever you're ready."

I kneel down for the third time, clutching my axes close.

"People of Panem, we fight, we dare to end this hunger for justice!"

This poor effort leaves Plutarch and Effie speechless as the sound of sarcastic clapping fills the studio. And Haymitch walks in.

He wears a beanie hat and the grey Thirteen uniform, a dead look on his face. I know why this must be. Thirteen has a ban of all alcohol.

"And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies," he says. Even if he's lost his drunk spirit, he's still the same old sarcastic yet smart man.

I hate him, now, though. He didn't save Austin like we agreed, but got me. He left Austin to die. "Hello Katniss," Haymitch says, blowing his nose on a grey handkerchief. "Is this how you greet an old friend?"

"Maybe I don't recognise you sober," I reply scathingly.

Wiping his red nose one last time, Haymitch lays out plainly. "I guess it looks as bad as it feels."

☘︎☘︎☘︎

My ghastly propo appears on the screen in command, it's sound filling the room.