Ever since I read The Hunger Games I have had a fascination with Cinna and Portia. They are both minor characters, Portia especially, but I think that makes them more interesting to write about. Before you read this I think you should know that this story started as a very sketchy scene in my head and became a short story complete with symbolism and some very (repeat very) vague references. I'll point some things out in footnotes but I don't think you need to understand them to enjoy the story so feel free to ignore them. If you do decide to read them, I would advise you to read them afterword; I feel like it ruins the effect of the story to interrupt like that. I would also recommend listening to this song before or while you read, especially if you've never heard it, but again, if you don't the world won't end.
Disclaimer: The Hunger Games and the song Glitter in the Air are owned by Suzanne Collins and P!nk, respectfully.
I'd like to give a shout out to two of my friends, let's call them Faith and Danielle, who helped me perfect this story even though neither of them has read the last book and one of them hasn't read any of the books at all. Thanks you guys!
Locked in the dressing room before the event, she stares at the woman in the mirror, carefully comparing her with the one in the sketch. Glancing down, she realizes she is crushing the sketch in her hands. With tears pooling in her eyes, she carefully smoothes his drawing and tapes it in a corner of the mirror.
She blinks back her tears and tries to steady her breathing while she applies her makeup. Cheekbones are highlighted with shimmering gold; eyes are lined and lashes are coated with his signature color; lips are covered in a clear gloss.
She pauses again, preparing herself for that final act of rebellion. She puts her own more recent sketch underneath his and takes up his eyeliner again. She stares at it and almost laughs at the absurdity of what she is about to do. Any time before, she wouldn't have dared to ruin his choice, almost only, embellishment for this type of ornamentation, but this, she imagines, he would approve of. This would make him proud.
Drawing strength from the thought of him, she places the tip just below the ring on her left hand and begins to seal her fate.
The people on stage are lying.
They smile and sing and dance and laugh and pretend, in front of the whole world, that everything is okay. But it's not.
They ask her to cooperate. Just do what they say, play along with their charade, and she will live. And she will cooperate, as everyone else had and did- to a point.¹
She rises to the stage alone; dressing room to performance, no stops in between. No one can see her until the whole country sees and it is too late to be stopped.
When the lights hit her, a hush falls and she forces herself to do just what she had told herself not to. Looking up at herself on one of the screens, she knows even he would be impressed.
She is wearing the gown he designed for her: floor length ivory silk with a shimmering, sheer fabric covering all but the bust. The sleeves and neck line are cut similar to the sundress she had worn when they first met, but the bodice fits tight like a corset and the skirts flow around her like a ball gown.
Her wedding dress.
Her feet are bare, her dirty-blonde hair is loose and she wears no jewelry but the ring on her left hand. The makeup she applied earlier seems to make her face glow; as does the gold flecked polish to her hands and feet.
More breath taking than anything are the swirling gold designs that cover her hands and feet like henna and trail up her arms, her chest, her neck, and frame her cheeks. Her whole body glows a soft golden under the bright lights, like someone you look at over a flame2 and the ring's diamond flashes a blinding light with only the tiniest movements.3
She knows almost no one will ever understand the true inspiration behind her appearance. Not really. Not fully. She knows a girl who will see him in her appearance, a boy who will see her, a drunkard who just might see through to them both and millions who will see that she is in pain. But no one can understand it all. It dies with her.
She also knows that even if they cannot understand what they are seeing, she has brought to everyone's mind some of the very people the capitol is trying so hard to make them forget. Her appearance screams of him, of what he did.
They don't take her away; don't cut her out just yet. They can't decide what her appearance is.
Rebellious?
Inspiring?
Beautiful?
Tragic?
She doesn't let them consider it for too long before she approaches the piano. She thinks for a moment how dark it looks compared to the glow of her skin. But the keys are black AND white, and the sound they'll make is clear.4
Arranging her skirt around her and placing her bare feet on the pedals and her fingers on the keys, she tries to stay calm. That's what they want from her. A calm performance, a calm country.
She will be calm. She won't give them what they want.
Focusing her eyes on the instrument in front of her, she begins a simple tune.
Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?
Breakfast in the studio, lunch in the studio, dinner in the studio; were they ever not in the studio?
Studio or no, they took their meals together. It became hard to imagine eating alone.
She hadn't.
Closed your eyes and trust it, just trust it
She had trusted him.
She still did.
"I still do…"
Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?
He really was a madman. The first time they shared a workspace the calm man she had met only twice before all but disappeared. In his place was a very messy genius.
Paper, pencils, pens, fabric, glitter- everywhere.
The rainbow colored sequins shimmered in the sunlight as they drifted to the ground.
"Beautiful"
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said I just don't care?
Yes.
They had the second time they met.
She couldn't honestly say she had feared anything since.
It's only half past the point of no return.
Just a touch.
The tip of the iceberg,
His lips.
The sun before the burn,
His kiss.
The thunder before the lightning,
"Portia"
And the breath before the phrase,
"I…"
Have you ever felt this way?
No, none of them has.
Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?
Twice.
Once not daring to hope that the genius she had met wanted to work with her.
Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone
The second time after she sent Peeta back into the arena, not daring to hope at all.
Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
That final quiet morning. His hand on her cheek. The salt in their kiss.
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?
That second meeting- was that when? Was that when he showed her how to feel?
It's only half past the point of oblivion
Just an idea.
The hourglass on the table,
But their time was short.
The walk before the run,
Faster and faster.
The breath before the kiss,
"Cinna?"5
And the fear before the phrase,
"…love you."
Have you ever felt this way?
She can feel it approaching as her song begins to end, but she isn't afraid. She can see it clearly now:
There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar
You called me sugar.
She can see him. Just the way they always used to meet. He was always waiting.
He is waiting.
Have you ever wished for an endless night?
They all think she means tonight.
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight
But he gave her the moon and stars long ago.
Have you ever held your breath
These are the last.
And asked yourself
Will it ever get better than tonight?
Tonight.
Yes.
But she might never know it.
The final chord is punctuated not by the sound but by the silence that follows. As she slumps over the piano, her forehead playing a messy chord on the keys, her last thought is for him: "you were right; crimson really is beautiful on ivory."
Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Also, if anyone is interested, I would love to have some artwork of her standing on stage or playing the piano. I have some preliminary sketches of her dress, but unfortunately I'm not a very good artist and will probably never take the time to actually draw her.
1-In case you haven't figured it out already, this is the televised event mentioned in the book where Peeta's stylist (Portia) and prep team are executed. I obviously changed it by saying that they meant for the event to calm people down.
2-This is probably the most vague reference it the whole story. I was referring to the girl on fire and the flame she started, ect.
3-One of my friends was confused, so I just wanted to make sure you were all aware that this is an engagement ring. Earlier I mentioned it when she uses it as a starting point for her swirl designs. I imagine her sort of highlighting the ring by surrounding it with the gold designs.
4-I just needed to mention for my friend Faith's benefit: yes I'm aware that all pianos have both black and white keys. I was going for symbolism Dear, but I'll have to ask all of you to treat this like English class and decide what it means for yourselves!
5-I originally meant for this to be an answer to him saying her name earlier, but my friend Danielle said that it sounded like she was seeing him while on stage. I considered adding something like 'yes,' or 'hmm,' or something like that, but I decided I liked that it could mean either one.