Chapter 7

There are no wedding bells in District Thirteen, but the talk of Finnick and Annie's wedding had been enough to make up for the lack them.

The people were streaming in from all angles of the room. Couples walked hand in hand, children's heads turned up toward the vast ceiling. Effie could feel the buzz.

Finnick stood in front of the audience, shoulders broad in newly tailored suit. He looked older than Effie had ever seem him. An ancient content spun behind his eyes when Annie walked down the aisle. She had on a concoction of a dress that came from many places. The base of the dress was Cinna's dress for Katniss, but from there the stylists had carefully sewn fishing nets onto the folds, giving it a distinctly District Four feel.

Most of the wedding was like that, a jumble of different traditions and cultures from the districts. So much so, that it did not feel like a wedding at times.

Cressida and her team's presence was the main attribute to this. They were situated at random points in the room, ready to capture the each moment of the ceremony. Effie felt it was a bit forced when the cameramen suspended artificial lighting on either side of the hall. At times it felt almost unnatural, like when Finnick and Annie said their vows. Even that had to have been pre-approved by Coin. She cringed deeply when the words "free from restraints" came up in Annie's speech. That had to be Plutarch's input no doubt, to make sure the propo remained effective. But Finnick and Annie's love remained unquestioned. There was no doubt that the ceremony was beautiful.

Effie had always pictured her own wedding to be in wintertime. A snowy wedding did not appeal to everyone, but she quiet liked the idea people hanging up their fur coats before entering the building, dancing inside while the usual Capitol blizzards raged outside.

But upon seeing the setting she had decorated to perfection, she thought that a spring or summer wedding might be better in the end. The soft wheatgrass from District Nine gave the room an airy feeling, like they were in a meadow. Other than that, Effie had ensured there was mementos from each district.

The most difficult to find was District Twelve and Five. The sufficient number of District Five refugees provided her with a cello player, who had mingled with Twelve's fiddler. Without even trying, the two districts who seemed to have the least personality were providing the music.

Soon the people were dancing, but not in the way she'd seen at Capitol weddings. There was collaboration that involved more than two people in an intricate clapping pattern. It was the first moment she saw real joy amongst the people of District Thirteen, and she knew then that she had succeeded. She had given the people relief from their repetitive duties, relief from the war, and a chance to let their hair down.

Effie retreated far away from the dancers after while. All she could do was stand there and clap her hands to the beat of the fiddler, looking like a seal. It made her feel idiotic. She did not know how to squeeze herself into their culture, and she did not think that she would have been welcomed if she tried.

"Soldier Trinket." a voice announced. She almost thought the it was Coin because of the formality of the tone, but turned to find Max Rancour standing at the door.

"Oh - hello." she said.

"It's looking good, I see."

Then she saw Greasy Sae grap Haymitch by the hand, forcing him to join the crowd.

She felt enclosed from their culture.

She wandered to the outskirts where she could watch the scene better.

She could see Johanna stalking up to her from the other side of the hall.

She had HAymitch's beanie on still. It stayed parallel to her eyebrows.

"Now you do not have to answer, Trinket, but I think I'm right. You love him, don't you?"

It was not like other weddings Effie had planned in the past. There was something very wrong about everyone arriving in grey jumpsuits. She and Octavia had spent the morning getting Annie ready. Effie got to but on her old wig, which did her so much good.