ceceliaknowsbest

[ceceliaknowsbest]

[Propo] What did you endure at the hands of The Capitol when being held captive?

When Cecelia had been asked to do a Propo she had wanted to tell them no.

But she didn't feel like she could actually say no, so she said nothing instead. She didn't say anything as the prep team did her makeup and her hair and she tried to ignore that it felt familiar. How many times since she won her Games had she been prepped for something? If it wasn't for Waking up with the Whitvales than it was for an interview with Caesar or some other member of the press. Or it was to get ready for a meeting with a 'client'.

The thought made her sick. Cecelia very much wanted to forget everything that had happened to her.

The lights nearly blinded her as she stood in front of the camera, looking very uncomfortable. That was a change for her. As much as she hated this kind of thing, she had never allowed herself to look like she hated it. That would be dangerous. Was it still dangerous even in Thirteen? Cecelia wasn't sold on any of it.

She very nearly almost laughed when they asked her the question. If she had known that this was what they wanted her to talk about she would have said no. She wasn't ready to talk about it. But she looked at Sterling, standing off to the side, and felt reassured that he would be there for her.

"There was a room," she finally started speaking, her eyes haunted and her voice quiet. "We all had a different room where the Capitol would torture us. At first, it was for information on the Rebels. But when they realized that I knew nothing the torture was for sport or for punishment."

Cecelia took a deep breath. "The room that they brought me to...I would be strapped down and all of the oxygen would be sucked out of the room. Over and over again. For what felt like hours. But that wasn't the worst part. The hunger and the beatings...they weren't the worst part. No. The worst part was President Snow lied and said he had my son." Tears started to stream down her face. "I believed that Snow had my son and was going to give him to another family and erase his memory. I spoke to a voice that I believed to be my son. President Snow paraded some Capitol child around pretending to be my son."

"Victors are strong. I have always believed that I was stronger than anything the Capitol and President Snow could throw at me. But I am not so sure anymore. I have already begun to heal from the physical toll of captivity, but healing from believing that my son was in danger and being helpless to stop it...that's going to take a lot longer."

Quiet sobs began to wrack her body. "I'm done," She told them in a choked voice, before walking away from the cameras and to her husband.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Cecelia had attended plenty of Capitol parties since winning the Hunger Games two years ago, but she never quite got used to the people in the Capitol. Or to their luxury. The building she grew up in would fit in this entire room. The lavish lifestyle was not something that she would ever be completely used to.

Another thing that she was never going to be used to was Capitol citizens and their belief that they owned her. She had been 'invited' to this party by President Snow, and even though she really wished that she were back home with her family, she had had no choice. Cecelia glanced up at the newcomer and was immediately taken aback by his words. You owe me your life. That was a new one for her. Cecelia had met plenty of entitled Capitol citizens but nobody had been so blatant as to say it out loud. Who was this man? She wondered as he dismissed her previous conversation partner and took his spot in front of her. What was she supposed to say to him? How was she supposed to respond to that?

She was glad for the glass of wine in her hand and took a sip from it to give her a moment to gather her thoughts. "Woof has been very busy, I'm sure he's been meaning to," Cecelia replied, feeling protective over her mentor. "But it's a shame that I haven't been able to thank you. I'm glad that I can now. Thank you for your gifts, they meant a lot to me." Cecelia wanted to wither away and not have this conversation but she remained smiling.

who: Cecelia and Marius ( @ceceliaknowsbest ) where: Capitol Party

"It is such a shame that your mentors or escorts or whoever involved have failed to introduce us to each other when in a way you owe me your life. I would've expected more of them in that regard." he interrupted a conversation in order to introduce himself, handing her previous partner his empty glass with a smile that was nothing but condescending. Then he turned his back on the individual, totally dismissing their presence.

"But I got to say, it was a very convincing conversation. Money was easily spilled. Then again, you do have a certain type of charm on the screen. Marius Sequin, I sponsored quite fortune - which also turned out to be a wise decision on my part considering you're still here."

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Cecelia didn't need a reminder to know that she had been through hell she relived it every single time she closed her eyes. If not the physical torture then she was reminded of the mental anguish that she had gone through. It helped, being with her family and seeing her kids was a reminder that she was safe and everything that she had been told was a lie. That was what had been the hardest thing for her to get over, the lies that President Snow had said about her son. Had Domi truly believed that she had laid eyes on her son? It was a question that kept her up at night.

"I don't know what I want," she finally said, taking a deep breath. "That's the hardest thing. I always knew what I am or who I am...but he took it. He took it when he made me believe that he had my son. I would do anything for Jax...to make Jax safe. But it had all been lies. He knew how to hurt me. Even now...I'm positive that he knows the damage that he's done. I'm sure President Snow is happy."

"It was never like that in Eight. Outside of our work schedules in the factories and school....we were able to be kids. I'm sorry that you didn't get that, Cadie, "Cecelia said. "And I was sorry to hear about Brutus. I may not have liked him and we may not have gotten along..." she trailed off for a moment, remembering how he called her a traitor that day in the mentors lounge. Was he part of why she had been locked up? "Sorry. He didn't deserve to die." At the offer for a hug, she smiled. "I would love that."

Cadence would have liked to hope that they wouldn't push any of the captives straight into work. But she knew that was unlikely. She felt like she knew District 13 pretty well by now. Everything ran to a schedule. Everyone had a part of play. But Cadie knew that not everything ran perfectly. Not everyone or everything could run perfectly within a schedule. People needed time to heal, without the constant pushing of being useful. It was why Cadence had been basically ignoring her schedule for the past week. She knew it was likely to get her in trouble, but she could only be useful if she was okay. And right now she wouldn't be okay.

"I'm not surprised. You've been in hell Cece." Cadie had thought the past couple of months had been hard for her. But it had been even worse for her friends. They deserved time to just be. "We could go see them if you wanted? If that would make things easier for you?" She didn't have children. She didn't even now if she wanted children. So she didn't fully understand what Cece was going through, but she figured it was similar to have she felt about not having been able to see Thea and and Enobaria.

"Two was very regimented." She explained with a little shrug. "When I was little....I got up, I trained, I went home. Kinda like a schedule I guess...." But it was still different. Cadie bit her lip, and then smiled a little bit. "Want a hug?" She asked. She wanted one, but she didn't know how Cece would feel about her invading her space, not after everything that had happened in the Capitol. So, she asked, and just hoped.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Cecelia couldn't stop the amused smile that formed on her lips. It wasn't often that she ran into men who didn't know how to act around her, especially not now. She was used to the men in the Capitol who believed that she wanted them the way that they wanted her. She was used to men in the Capitol acting like she owed them something for surviving. This man in front of her...he was the kind of man that she had always imagined herself with when she had a choice. Winning the Hunger Games took that choice away from her. It made her stomach turn to think about the life that she could have had if her name had never been plucked from the Reaping Bowl that day. How things would have been so different.

"It's okay, I didn't think that you were coming onto me," Cecelia finally said. When she was younger she had turned heads when she walked through the streets of District Eight. They still turned to look at her but not for the same reasons as before. Since winning her life had been changed, and her family's life changed too. They lived in the Victor's Village now, and Cecelia hadn't had to lift a finger in a factory since the day she returned to Eight. People didn't know what to make of her now. She was somehow no longer a part of District Eight, but not Capitol either. Where did she fit in? Cecelia looked at the man before her and wondered what his life was like. Was he married? Did he have a family?

"That's what I really miss, you know, that wonderful smell," she said with a wry smile. "They ensured the village was just far away enough so the smell doesn't reach it." Her tone was teasing, but Cecelia missed the life she had before when she was free to do as she wanted. When her every move and decision wasn't controlled by President Snow. "However do you manage to go a full eight hours away from it?"

Cecelia looked over at the man. "I'm Cecelia," she introduced, but she had a feeling that the introduction was completely unnecessary if the way that he had reacted to her was anything to go by. But she wanted to know his name. Who was he?

“I’m sorry, that–That must’ve sounded like some sort of come-on.  It wasn’t.  I mean, not that I wouldn’t, you know, but…I wasn’t.  Coming on to you, that is.”  At this point he was about ready to walk up to the nearest peacekeeper and cause a scene just to escape his own stupidity.  Sterling wasn’t a smooth talker by any means, but he also wasn’t someone who often stumbled over his words, and at the moment, he felt out of control over his own body, it was disconcerting.  Especially as he knew he must be coming off as some sort of games obsessed fan, which was laughable to anyone who knew him.  Perhaps he wasn’t a fan of the games, but he had been of her.  Although, fan still felt like an odd word.  He had admired her, the way she had stayed strong for her family, for her brothers. 

 His own sister hadn’t been able to, not that he blamed her.  But as he had clung on to her in front of the crowds, tears spilling down young cheeks, she had started wailing.  Maybe it was because she had known, known that there was no way she’d make it out alive.  That it was her last time seeing her family.  If that was the case, now, he wanted to applaud her for making a scene, making everyone witness the destruction they were causing.  Try, however fruitlessly, to instill even an ounce of guilt into the capitolites that watched the reapings, even if that hadn’t been the purpose at all.

“I mean, I don’t blame you.  It’s pretty addicting.  I’m just glad my apartment still smells like it, otherwise I’d have to go a whole 8 hours without  it.” he replied, a small, sarcastic smile tickling his lips.  He remembered being surprised, though, seeing her father back at work.  For some reason, he had it in his mind that those who won the games were set for life.  But, now, he realized how naive that was.  Of course they weren’t, that would be too generous.  If they lost workers from every family that had a victor, that’d be hundreds of employees they couldn’t work to death, and then where would they be?

It became blatantly clear to him the older he became, just how much of a scam the entire thing was, from head to toe.  And sometimes, he wondered, as horrible as her death had been, if his sister had met the kinder fate.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Cecelia loved her husband. Meeting him had changed her life for the better and had put her on a different path than the one that she had been on. If she hadn't met him that day where would she be? How different would her life be if she hadn't run into him? He had saved her when she was twenty-two and lost and he saved her again. She had never doubted him. Cecelia knew he would come for her. "I know," She confirmed, looking up to meet his eyes. "I love you," she told him.

She didn't know what to make of the look that crossed his face when she told him that Snow had Jax. Cecelia recognized the fury in his eyes. Where had he thought Jax was being held? Had he expected to find their son beside her in this cell? That would have been a different kind of hell, one that she didn't think she could withstand. It would have been torture, seeing her son locked up in here with her, even if the unknowing of where he was was also torture.

But then Sterling spoke and she felt like her entire world shifted beneath her. He's in 13, Cecelia. He's safe. They never had him. President Snow had lied. Why was she surprised by that? When had he not lied to her before? He knew how to hurt her and she had let him. "I--what?" She managed to ask, her mind racing. It had all been a lie. Everything had been a lie. Her son had been safe this entire time. Cecelia didn't know if she should laugh or cry or scream or do some kind of combination of all three. Her son had been safe. He was safe. That was w hat mattered. She told herself that that was what mattered. Sterling's voice brought her out of her thoughts again. "I know. I never doubted that." How many times had she told herself that it made no sense? Sterling would never let their kids out his his sight. Cecelia should have trusted her instincts.

"Please," she told him. "Get me out of here." She grabbed onto his hand tightly, terrified that if she let go of it for a second he would disappear and she would wake up and it would all have been a dream.

Let this not be a dream, she prayed to herself.

It was as if he watched her get sucked back inside herself, her eyes suddenly more clear, more present, and his stomach turned over at the thought of what she must've endured for that to happen. How had they made her doubt her own mind? What had they done to her? "I'm here," he whispered against her skin in confirmation, soft as a prayer, "I'll always come for you, no matter where you are, you know that." It was said with conviction, he had failed her once, unable to get her out of the capitol in time, and he refused to do it again. She had already been through so much, and now she had to bear whatever it was they had done to her down here. How much could her shoulders carry?

It was with her next words, he began to understand the extent of their torture, and found himself filled with even more fury than before, if possible. He knew to never put anything past the capitol, their capacity for cruelty was never ending, always expanding, and their technology to aid them in these quests, doing the same. He could only wonder how they had made her think they held their son. Had they shown her edited images? Shown her some lookalike? Replicated his voice? Did it yell 'mama'? Did it beg for her to save him?

He wanted to be sick at the very thought, so he could only imagine what it must be like to be convinced it was true. "He's in 13, Cecelia. He's safe. They never had him." Saliva still swelled in his mouth, having to keep his stomach from betraying him at the very thought she had been stuck in this place for all these months, thinking the capitol had their son. "I'd have died before I let them touch our children." He may have not been able to protect her, like he should have, and that was something that would haunt him until the end of his days. And he hoped she'd know that, would understand that, that he'd always fight for her, tearing down the capitol brick by brick to get to her, but he would tear down the world and any heavens or hells that may exist before he'd fail their children, the silent oath they both swore when they created those three lives.

"Let's get you out of here, you can see for yourself."

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Even though she trusted Finnick and knew that he would never do anything to betray that trust she couldn't trust that someone else wasn't listening. Was it paranoia? Or had they all just had the same experience of President Snow finding something out that he shouldn't have? Cecelia had long learned that they were all trapped in a cage. A gilded cage made of gold, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless.

There were few people that understood exactly what it meant to live the lives that they did. Even her family didn't know the half of it when it came to her life as a victor. She hadn't wanted to scare them or trouble them so she had kept it all to herself. It was only in meeting her husband that she had someone that she could be vulnerable with. She had someone with whom she could share the burden of what her life was like, even if he could never fully grasp some of the things that she had seen or done. But he loved her despite everything and that was enough for her.

The implications of having a child terrified her. Defying President Snow again scared her. Her father had been the cost of her marriage. Cecelia hadn't known that when she married Sterling. What would the cost be if she had a child? Other than having to offer them to the Hunger Games, having to worry every year that this would be the year that they were District Eight's tribute.

And yet...Cecelia wanted to be a mom. It was something that she hadn't realized how much she wanted until she married Sterling and they started to talk about it. And now that they had started she couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm crazy," she admitted, looking at Finnick. She wasn't naive, she had asked Finnick because she knew he would tell her what he thought and not what she wanted to hear. But it was still hard to hear. "But what about Sterling. He's a normal person. He deserves to be a father," she pointed out softly. "Why can't we just be normal?"

Being a victor came with certain privileges. The ease of travel between their home districts and the Capitol, the steady stream of food and money, the lavish apartments and homes. To those who hadn’t been welcomed into their inner circle, it might seem as if they could have the world. But those on the inside? Those who had actually made it to where they stood? They knew they would never be afforded anything as luxurious as choice. 

Finnick would never call Cecelia crazy, not when she wanted something so normal, but that didn’t mean he thought her desire to start a family was anything short of a pipedream. They all knew the implications; whatever child she and Sterling would welcome into the world would become a commodity, paraded around the Capitol and plastered on every news front page just as they all had. And then of course, there were the Games, and what better tribute than the child of a victor? So no, Finnick didn’t think Cecelia was crazy, but he couldn’t help but question the morality of it.

But then again, what choice was there? She had already risked so much with her marriage, Finnick didn’t want to imagine the fallout a child would bring. Snow wasn’t someone to tolerate being made a fool of, that was something they had all become acutely aware of.

He watched her for a moment, eyes straining to focus on her through the alcohol and garden lights. As Cecelia scrambled for some sort of validation, confirmation that her wants were not so outlandish or unimaginable, Finnick couldn’t help but wonder if she always looked so fragile.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he affirmed, taking her lead and downing the rest of his own drink. He would regret it when it came back up later, but he would do anything to dull the sharp edge of the moment. “I think you want a normal life.” His green eyes wander to the skyline, unable to look at the woman standing before him. “But Cece, I don’t really think we’re normal people.” We don’t get to do those things.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

There had been few times when Cecelia had allowed herself to be selfish during her life. Growing up in Eight she often cared for her younger brothers while her parents were worked to the bone before she joined them. Four-hour shifts after school weren't abnormal for children in District Eight, and still, she somehow managed to help her mother with dinner and taking care of her brothers. After winning the Games everything she did was to help her family. Cecelia supposed that marrying Sterling and having kids had been selfish to some, but they had saved her time and time again.

Now though, she was being selfish. She held her kids tighter and wasn't as willing to let them out of her sight. If she could keep them locked in their compartment with her she would. Cecelia wanted to make up for the two months that she had been gone. Her kids had grown and she had missed out on it. Especially Juliet. She was walking more steadily and she was saying far more than she had been when Cecelia last saw her.

Seeing Annie at the nursery was good. It made her feel more comfortable walking through the door with Juliet. She was struck by the realization that she was seeing Annie in person instead of through the thick glass. If she wanted to, she could hug the other woman. They were free in Thirteen, or as free as they could be, and that wasn't the case for all of them. She thought of the others still in the medical ward. It made her grateful that she had been let out when she had been, and that she could be with her kids. Cecelia suspected that Annie might feel the same.

"Thanks," Cecelia replied, taking the seat beside Annie, but she left Juliet in her lap. She didn't like putting her down, but she knew that it wasn't fair. Juliet was going to see Caspian playing and wanted to play herself. "Hi Caspian," Cecelia greeted the little boy softly. "Juliet, say hi," she encouraged her daughter. Juliet looked at Caspian and smiled. "Hi!" She repeated before squirming in Cecelia's lap. "Da!" Juliet demanded. Cecelia sighed and placed her daughter on the ground. "Stay close," she murmured as Juliet toddled over to a toy truck.

"He's beautiful, Annie," she told the other woman. "I'm so happy to see you. How are you?"

when annie cresta had been rescued from the capitol, she found herself in another square cell. it had been less restrictive ; annie was allowed to wander the specific med wing. she couldn't really see her son though. and while she understood the reasoning, the sting stayed fresh and heartbreaking. when the fourth day came around, evaluations were slow. there was an uncertainty that burrowed in the soft heart that filled cresta's chest. after years of being deemed unwell by the public and months within the cellblock, she's ... surprised to be released. so relieved, nevertheless surprised.

side by side, annie is never without either her fiancé or their son. when time is sweetest in the haze of it all, all three are together. the bubble surrounds them, and she can melt within it. within moments of quiet, she wonders if she'll be awaking in the prison cot ; and for all it's worth, she can accept that if she can live within the dream just a bit longer.

annie wishes finnick was in the daycare with her and caspian. they pull him away for something, it's important enough that they don't allow him to forgo what's written on his arm. a volunteer told annie they need more hands here. maybe she'll express interest down the line. they won't allow her yet, she doesn't have clearance like that yet. are they still testing her ? ( annie isn't sure. ) but she's happy to be here and watching her sweet, little man play with some wooden blocks. he's so cheerful. he looks so much older now. she tries not to dwell on it, but it's hard. so she softly tells him the letters on each block. a-, b-, d-, and e- seem to come the easiest to caspian to repeat.

she hears cecelia and her little one before she sees them. just a short while ago, she'd only see the woman from eight on the other side of thick glass. smile tugs at her lips. not everyone had been able to leave the hospital yet. she needs to go see thea, peeta, amara, and eno soon. " of course, " she greets, gesturing to the two spare, open seats. hand goes to her little guppy's shoulders and he looks over to his momma after previously being in his own, happy, little world. " casy, this is miss cece and her daughter juliet. say hi. " and he does just that, interjecting a happy hi and an even more enthusiastic wave, accented by energetic feet kicking under the table. in true fifteen month old fashion, his attention returns right back over to his newfound, beloved blocks. her hand moves upward towards him to move overgrown bangs out of chubby-cheeked face. they hadn't even remotely covered his green eyes before the quell.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

They had all been through so much. Cecelia didn't know how much more of it she could take. She would continue pushing on because she knew that she couldn't let President Snow win. He had already taken so much from her. She refused to allow him to take any more. He had stolen two months of her children's lives from her and she couldn't let him take more.

"I don't know about that," she replied. "It seems like everyone is supposed to work." It was what Cecelia had noticed about Thirteen. It was different than what she was used to that was for certain. "I am being selfish, I've been holding onto my kids. If I could I would keep them with me. But Jax and Satina like school and Juliet likes the nursery so I'm trying to be okay with letting them go. It's hard."

"It's very different from Eight. I'm sure it's even worse, coming from Two," she mused. Cecelia was grateful that her kids were safe and had been looked after while she was gone, but it was still difficult to adjust and acknowledge that she had been gone. "I appreciate that Cadie," she told her. "You know that I'm here as well."

Cadence isn't a hugger. She isn't' very good at physical contact. She supposed that was what she got after years of being taught how to win the hunger games. But right now as she stood watching Cecelia, she just wanted to hug her. To say it will be okay. But Cadie knows she can't do either of those things. They don't know if it is going to be okay. Cadie would like to think so. They got them back. But the war is far from over, and who knew when anything would ever be okay again.

"I don't think anyone would mind if you don't get a job." They'd been through so much. The victors had all been through too much at the hands of the Capitol, but those who were captured had faced even more. "Be selfish Cece.... you need to heal." And she needed to do that for however long it took, not take a job because someone else thought she should.

"I'm still trying." She had been here since the quarter quell arena had been broken. She had been here the whole time, and she was still trying to adjust. Of course, she'd take a huge step back now, but at least she had her people around her now. "And I'll be here to help you too.... or.... be here anyway." She didn't know how much actual help she would be, but she would always be there for Cece.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Since being released from the hospital wing, Cecelia had preferred to stay in her compartment with her family and not venture out into the halls of Thirteen. She wasn't ready to be among strangers. But Thatcher Blight was not a stranger. Nor was his nephew Lennox. Like Woof, Thatcher was a part of her life from the moment that she won her games. He had won the year before her, and while their close relationship hadn't been immediate, Cecelia counted him as someone in her family. He had been one of the first people she had asked Sterling about once she was rescued, and someone she had been waiting to see. Cecelia had lost so many people and that number had only grown since the beginning of the rebellion, but she was so grateful that Thatcher and Lennox were okay. She had wondered and worried about him in the days after the Victors purge and had told herself that if he hadn't been on that stage then he was alive. For once, she had been right.

Cecelia was strangely nervous to see him. What if things had changed? She distracted herself with her children, as she always did. Jax had been more attentive, Juliet had been more clingy, and Satina...she was struggling and it broke Cecelia's heart. She hoped that seeing Lennox would help their daughter, the two had always gotten along. The rap at the door made her turn to look as it pushed open a little. Within seconds of seeing her, Lennox was shouting her name and running to her. She held onto him tightly. "Hi!" She greeted him, so glad that he was safe. Cecelia let go of him a moment later and watched, amused as he and Satina already started playing. "Make sure to play nice, Satina. Share," she warned her daughter before turning towards Thatcher. "It's good to see you too," she replied, her voice heavy with emotion. She hesitated for a moment before she rushed to him and hugged him tightly. "I'm so happy to see you," she repeated, a few tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm so happy you are safe."

Whitvale Room || with Cecelia Whitvale @ceceliaknowsbest

Since the death of his brother he'd had almost no family left, at least none that were blood related and wanted anything to do with them. But over the years he'd managed to build himself something of a new family, cobbling together connections that filled his life and gave him the love and care he'd always been so starved of. He'd long since counted Cecelia in that number and so it hadn't taken him long to organise a time that he and Lennox would visit once she was out of the hospital wing. As they walked down the corridors he allowed himself a smile, amused by the spring in his nephew's steps as soon as he'd told him where they were going. After watching the display of energy, Thatcher made them pause at the door and gave a quick warning to calm down slightly. Lennox had nodded solemnly but he could tell by the way the boy was shifting from foot to foot that his words had likely gone in one ear and out the other. They were expected so with a rap on the door he opened it slightly, resisting the urge to hover awkwardly in the doorway out of habit when this was one of the few places he knew without any doubts he was wanted.

A few steps were taken into the Whitvale's room but Lennox had no such apprehension and was quick to hurl himself towards Cecelia, wrapping his arms around her legs with the exclamation of 'Auntie Cece.' Head shook, privately marvelling at just how quickly the boy managed to forget his lecture but he struggled to find any sort of firmness in his tone as gentle caution leaves his mouth. "Easy bud." But he'd barely breathed life into the words when his nephew suddenly decided that the brash show of affection was enough; attention then claimed by Satina who he ran to without hesitation. Any hesitation he might have felt was dissipated by Lennox's bold display and he's greeting his friend with a warm smile. "It's good to see you." A vast understatement but then he'd never been particularly adapt at finding words for his feelings or even identifying them well. All that mattered was that he'd missed her and that she was safe now.  

[ceceliaknowsbest]

"Smart move," Cecelia complimented. She didn't know that she would want to be the face of the rebellion the way that Katniss had agreed to. But if she had been in Katniss's position she would have made the exact same choice. Katniss may not have suffered as long under the wrath of Snow as a victor the way that some of them had, but that didn't take away what she had gone through. What Peeta had gone through. At the mention of her kids liking the cat, she felt her heart drop as it did whenever she was reminded that her kids had grown some in her absence and she hadn't been there to see it. "There was a stray cat in Eight that they always loved seeing. I didn't let them play with him very much, though," she admitted. "I understand you helped in the nursery with my kids. Thank you."

Cecelia would never stop feeling grateful to the people that had taken care of her children while she was gone even though she had complicated feelings towards Thirteen and the rebellion itself. "I think that I'm going to get lost around here every day," she admitted. "It just...it keeps going it seems neverending. You are always welcome to stop by for a visit to our compartment. My kids have been asking about you."

Katniss's words bring back the guilt that she carried for being gone, even though it hadn't been her choice. There was just some things that moms couldn't stop. "Now that I'm here I don't ever want to let them out of my sight," she admitted. "It's hard letting them go to school and the nursery." Cecelia offered Katniss a small smile. "I'm about the same," she agreed. She was happy to be alive when so many she knew were gone.

the mention of buttercup is no new thing. for over sixty years, there have been no pets in thirteen, and now they've been introduced to the concept with no one less than an ugly-faced cat; it was a novelty that some enjoyed, others were disgusted by. katniss was beyond caring about that, the only opinion that mattered was prim's, and she would forever love that bag of fleas. "i asked for it. no mockingjay otherwise." she thinks it must sound silly, entitled, but the cat had been a vital part of negotiations for her role, necessary even if minimal. "your kids like him." all children did, and, somehow, buttercup endured their attention with a care he does not extend towards katniss — she's even heard him purr during some rests between crazy cat in the bunker, when the children fought to be the one to scratch behind his deformed ear.

the question ushers her to pull out the paper with the number of her new compartment — it would be a trek from the families' and the couples' wings, far from a happiness she would neither benefit from or impose her own misery upon, and that is what mattered. "some more levels." katniss responds, at last, returning her gaze to the other victor. "'s a big place, so everythin' seems far." she shrugs.

"they waited long for you." there should be some sort of apologies from her part there — though the delay in the rescue was entirely fashioned by the true higher-ups, she doesn't think she can ever shake off the guilt that festers every corner of her life, spreading like an illness and picking at unimportant and unrelated bits only to add to the unsurmountable sentiment. "'m alive." so no, she is not okay, but it doesn't matter. “you?”

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Seeing President Snow again, mere hours after watching his Peacekeepers murder her best friend and her family had not been what she wanted. But she shouldn't be surprised. Since the day she won her games and became a victor she had been at the mercy and whim of President Snow. Why would that have changed now? Cecelia had long resigned herself to knowing that President Snow got what he wanted. Even knowing that, the very sight of President Snow had her blood boiling all the while being terrified. Was this it? Was this conversation going to end with her dead on the ground? Cecelia felt like something had changed and she didn't like it.

It was just like President Snow to be pompous even with her.r Was there any need for the arrogance? Was he not pleased with how far she had fallen since the Quarter Quell? "My mistake, my head is a little bit off," she retorted. Cecelia hadn't moved since he walked into the room, unsure of what to do with herself. She watched as the President walked across the floor of the tribute center and sat down in Woof's seat. It was a reminder that she was never going to see her mentor in this room again. He was dead because of President Snow. And he had the audacity to sit in Woof's seat. But what could she do? Cecelia had never felt so powerless in her life. When he spoke up again, she took a deep breath and sat where he had indicated, and placed her hands in her lap. "Where is my son?"

mister mellark had been to blame for the slaughters, the president quickly writes off. katniss everdeen's husband had acted in tomfoolery with his oafish signally, which only had created the domino effect that landed a blow to each individual in captivity. and to be frank, the six remaining captives apparent bonding with one another was nauseating. collectively, it led to a strong necessity when it came to the lot facing punishment. him personally ensuring cecelia whitvale's punishment being recorded was just a means of collateral. if anything called for it, said tape could be edited to ensure the matriarch of eight looked less than flattering, after all.

this meeting had a fundamental purpose as well. nearly sixty days, and the woman from eight still required a reminder that her husband was damned. her continued, errorus loyalty would only lead her astray. and even with tensions high, a chuckle leaves his lips as it almost seems that cecelia senses the president before he's in view. " mrs. whitvale, don't you realize we have much to discuss ? " coriolanus snow openly ponders as though she's dim for not understanding such a thing. he strides on the eighth floor like he owns the building. in a way, he does. the man won't stop until he's at woof's unofficial official seat, and gracefully sits down. does it hit a nerve ? next to nothing is ever mere coincidence. peacekeepers had yelled at the late victor many times while the man from eight sat in this very chair. " my dear please take a seat, " he adds, gesturing politely to the sofa across from him. his words while unfazed in their sweetness is no offer ; it's a demand.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

"You don't need to apologize Annie," Cecelia said kindly. It was sweet, though, that she thought that she should. She had always had a soft spot for Annie even though they didn't interact much. She had always been glad that Annie managed to stay out of the spotlight and out of Snow's wrath, even though the cost of her Games had been very high. Cecelia knew that her choice to have kids had been unpopular amongst some of the victors, and maybe she would have thought the same if she had never met Sterling. But meeting Sterling had changed everything. How could she not want to have a family with the man that she loved? "You were clearly very busy yourself." Things should have been different, they should have been able to enjoy being pregnant together, or at least to commiserate when things were hard.

It made her stomach sink to hear that Caspian was also in the President's custody. She knew the agony that Annie was living with. If Annie was anything like Cecelia when it came to their kids, they would gladly take their child's place if it meant that they were safe. "Maybe he's with Jax," she offered with a wan smile on her lips. "Maybe Snow has them kept together somewhere." Even if it was unrealistic she wanted to think that maybe her son had a little bit of comfort or a distraction from it all.

She had to believe that she would see her kids again and that they would make new memories together once they were free of this hell that they had been living. If she allowed herself to think for a moment that she might not get out of there, she knew she wouldn't be able to go on. She would give up and it would be near impossible to pull her from those thoughts. So thinking positively, at least when it came to her kids, was what was going to keep her going. "My kids love dress up," she said with a smile. "I'm sure Caspian will too. They can teach him all about it." She glanced towards Peeta's cell and sighed when he just grunted. It was getting worse, Peeta, and she was afraid that if they weren't saved soon, they might never get him back.

At the question about Sterling, Cecelia smiled. "They did. My father liked that Sterling asked his permission to come to the house, he was always old-fashioned that way. I have younger brothers, but I'm the only girl, so he was always a little protective. And Woof and Sterling got along well too. They spent a lot of time together." Now that she knew they were rebels, their late nights made more sense. "He is a good man. Sometimes I think he was crazy, agreeing to marry me. Dealing with all of...it."

" you're right. someone mentioned it after last games. i'm sorry i never had the chance to send my well wishes after the birth of juliet. i meant to ... everything just got so busy. " eye contact breaks. maybe a redness would appear across her cheeks had she physically not be dealing with the aftermaths of terror and torment at the hands of the capitol. restless and endlessly exhausted, her body only seems to focus on surviving, even in darker moments when annie cresta finds herself wishing for otherwise. ( those thoughts she guards closer to her chest, never daring to say it out loud. ) who had it been that first told her ? thoughts feel rather hazy nowadays. had it been either beck arno or percy waverly ? even if she ever gets out of here ... it's not like she'd been able to ask either of them anymore. ( oh no, how are their grandchildren fairing after the news ? )

" he's somewhere here. i don't know where, but he's in the president's custody, " annie admits as her volume steadily declines throughout almost as though not acknowledging it might mean caspian will be found safe and sound within the calming of district four. the effort is in vain, no less. annie had never been one for prayer. but as she tosses and turns on the cell's cot, annie finds herself hoping her son is somewhere warm and with color. how terrified would her sweet boy be if he's anywhere like this block. ( finn finds himself in her thoughts often too ... and chest aches at the knowledge of him dying brutally and there being nothing she can do to save him. )

it's just like cecelia whitvale to attempt to uplift someone else even when she herself is going through torture. and annie appreciates it. does the woman from eight feel a similar guilt welling whenever she attempts to look to the lighter and brighter ? annie knows she has to look towards hope, but it also feels helpless as more time goes on. " they will, " she agrees hurriedly with a nod and a soft but frail smile. " cas will like that. they can swim in four and play dress up in eight, " it's rosey in color, something all children deserve to see the world as. peeta grumbles something in his cell. " - and can explore twelve. " the insertion doesn't see any further response from mellark. ( is he sleeping, awake, or somewhere else entirely subconsciously ? ) annie's heart breaks for the younger man.

" did your father and woof like sterling ? " she asked, changing the conversation. annie had always wondered how the married couple managed to get snow's stamp of approval. she remembers the spectacle that came over panem when the two wed. beautiful family aside, the constant public picking away at the whitvales added an additional unfortunate tally against marrying the man she adored. not that snow would ever let his veiny, gross fingers unwrap around finnick's innocent neck. " i met him once at the start of the quell. you married a nice man, " she adds genuinely.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Cece: [Interrogation] Mrs. Whitvale, would you like to see the footage of your husband actively fighting alongside the rebels within your District? Countless of people have died as a result.

This time she was in a different interrogation room. A hologram took up the entire wall in front of her, and the interrogator stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a mask so she couldn't see his face, not that that would help things.

Cecelia had long gotten used to her opinions not mattering. They pretended that her opinion mattered, that if she told him no, she would rather not see the footage that they wouldn't show her. But she knew better. She knew that Snow wanted her to see it and she would see it. President Snow got what he wanted every time.

But still even though she knew that it didn't matter, she shook her head. "No. I don't want to see it."

It was as if her words were the magic words and suddenly the hologram went on and she saw her husband standing there. Even in these circumstances, her heart seemed to speed up when she saw him. She could see the wear on his face since she last saw him, but it was her husband. It was Sterling. He was still as handsome as ever, and she felt that longing in her chest. When he looked toward the camera she could almost pretend that he saw her. But then he lifted up the gun in his hand and she watched as the bullet found its target.

District Eight looked destroyed. Her chest ached for her home and the people she knew and grew up with. What was happening? How had this destruction happened so quickly? When this was over would anything be left of District Eight?

"What did they do?" She whispered, horror in her eyes as the interrogator just laughed.

"That is your husband doing, dear Cecelia. Are you proud of him??"

His words spurred a defiance in her that she hadn't felt in a long time. Seeing her husband fight for what he always wanted to had spurred something in her.

"Yes."

It was worth the blows.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Cece: [Interrogation] Cecelia! You mean to tell me you never knew of the actions of Woof? God, apparently you two were so close. It seems odd you were unaware of both your husband and someone who was your mentor, doesn't it?

Cecelia felt like she kept saying the same things over and over again but nobody ever listened. How many times did she need to tell them that they kept her out of their plans? That Woof hadn't let her in.

"It's not odd," she said brokenly as she tried to catch her breath. The interrogations were somehow worse when she couldn't see the person asking the questions. Their voice was so loud and her head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. "They wanted to protect me...Woof always wanted to protect me. Sterling always wanted to protect me. They didn't tell me because they knew I didn't feel the same way." Cecelia couldn't stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

All of Sterling and Woof's late nights when she went to bed suddenly made sense, but she still wasn't willing to tell them about that. It made her look complicit even though she was anything but complicit. "Let me go...please....I didn't know anything."

"You expect us to believe that? You are linked to at least five known rebels, Mrs. Whitvale. Maybe you need another round to jog your memory. All those kids must have hurt your memory."

She didn't have any time to say anything before the oxygen was sucked from the room.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

It was hard for Cecelia to wrap her mind around the fact that she was in Thirteen and not at home in Eight. Even though her home had been provided by the Capitol, by her win in the Games, it was her home. It was the place that she brought her kids home to, it had been decorated to their taste, and it had a kitchen that she could cook for her family. This communal living was something that she couldn't quite understand even though she was told that she would get used to it. She had to remind herself that she was lucky to be alive and to have her family back.

"That's what I've heard," she agreed, glancing up and looking at Cadie. "Sterling said that I will have to find a job here eventually, but I'm going to be selfish and wait as long as I can before it happens," she mused softly. Cecelia was not ready to be around more people. After two months of Capitol torture, she thought she could be selfish and hold her family close and avoid working. "But my kids have always thrived with routine so I guess it's been good for them being here."

"Our lives have been relatively unstructured...it's probably normal to struggle to adjust. That's what the doctors would probably say, anyways."

District 13 felt different now that her family were here. The guilt that Cadie felt about leaving them behind hadn't fully gone away. But things felt a lot better now she knew they were safe. Or at least they were out of the clutches of the Capitol anyway. Seeing Cece relatively able to function made her happy. At least she wasn't in the hospital. Seeing Thea and Enobaria still in those hospital beds had been hard. So she was going to take the joy of knowing that Cece had to be healthy enough to be out of the Hospital. At least physically anyway.

"Yeah...." Cadie murmured, biting on her lip as she stepped into The Whitvales room. She didn't say anything else about her living situation though. She still didn't really know how to describe her situation with Juniper, and she wanted to keep it a little more private for now. "Routine is good.... they like routine around here..." The brunette murmured. She struggled sometimes with how rigid the routine was. Especially in the more recent days when she'd just wanted to hide away from everyone and mope. There didn't seem much room in 13's schedule for that. And so Cadie had created her own.

"Though the routine hear can be pretty rigid. I don't like it all the time"

[ceceliaknowsbest]

How many times had Cecelia dreamed of this very moment? How many times had she hoped that the guard on the other side of the door would be her husband? It had never been, though, and each time it had been another disappointment for her. Another reminder that she was still under Snow's control. Holding onto the hope that Sterling would come for her eventually had kept her going, had kept her somewhat sane. Cecelia had to believe that Sterling was going to come eventually, otherwise she feared that she would end up like Thea or Peeta.

But even as Sterling stood in the doorway she wasn't ready to believe that it was him, that he had finally come. She was afraid that this was another test. President Snow loved his tests. Claudia died because she failed the test. Jax had been taken from them because she failed the test. She hadn't been good enough to make Snow look the other way about Sterling's rebel tendencies. Could this be another test? Even though she was in her cell and not in the room designed to torture her, she momentarily felt all the air get sucked out of the room. She felt the familiar panic flood through her and she tried to catch her breath.

His voice broke her from her panic. The way that he said her name, the words that fell from his lips calmed her. Cecelia had known when she looked into his eyes, but she didn't want to believe it yet. She couldn't let herself believe it. What if it was another trick? But then he spoke. He spoke and she knew. It was Sterling. It was her Sterling.

Before she could do anything or even really grasp it, Sterling was in front of her and she was in his arms. The tears started to fall down her cheeks and she threw her arms around him. Cecelia had started to believe that she was going to die before Sterling came for her. "You're here," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I knew you would come."

Cecelia pulled away from him a moment later, the tears still falling down her cheeks. "We need to find Jax," she told him, her voice desperate. "He has Jax. He-he said that a Capitol family took him in, Domi saw him. Sterling, he has our son, we have to find him, we can't...we can't leave him. What...what if he doesn't remember us anymore. He said he would do it." Cecelia was hysterical, and she was afraid he wouldn't understand what she was telling him. He had to understand. "We have to find our son," she sobbed.

13 had spent the past months training Sterling to be a soldier, in more ways than one. They taught him physicality, and tried to instill the same virtues mentally. Perhaps he had retained some of it, but overwhelmingly, he was a husband, a father first. And after the first batch of survivors were brought up from the depths of the tribute tower, with the knowledge of where they now were, it became blatantly obvious that Sterling had worn the title of 'soldier' like a shroud to reveal his true identity, and quickly shed it as he sprinted away from Johanna. He had promised in the propo that he'd come for her, and he wasn't about to break it.

"Where is she?" he barked at those who had actually been tasked with retrieving the prisoners, thankfully he didn't have to specify before being pointed in a direction, because he didn't think he had the patience to explain or repeat himself, his bones practically buzzing under his skin at the thought of seeing his wife again. Perhaps, it was also in fear, so afraid of what he'd see. He had already been ready to tear down every block of the damn tower, pulling stones until you could see bone, but he might tear down the entire damn capitol, depending on the condition he found her in. And despite the knowledge that opening that door would mean a complete and utter alteration of their future, depending on what was on the other side of it. But without hesitation, he ripped it open.

The panic that spread through his gut when the chaotic movement of his eyes didn't catch her form at first as they moved faster than his brain could proccess, was something unlike he had ever felt before. The horrible thought that Snow had killed her before the rescue, a special punishment for the couple who now so publicly refused his power. But as his eyes finally came to rest on her, he realized Snow didn't need to kill her to inflict such pain. Her heart shaped face was gaunt and narrow, bruises kissing her cheekbone and temple that made him want to find the guard that gave her them. But most of all, he realized the cruelty that she must have experienced as he looked into those hazel eyes he had spent countless hours of his life looking into, into the eyes she had lovingly crafted in each of their children as she carried them and gave them life. They were dazed and confused and didn't seem to carry the same spirit they once had. Despite her calling out his name, Sterling wasn't sure they were seeing him, and it was scaring him to death.

Without a thought for what must be an incredibly sore body, before he could stop himself, Sterling was ripping his way across the room, barely able to stop himself from slamming into her, but desperate to feel her in his arms, to assure himself that he was seeing her, truly.

A mix of her name and every other loving thing he had ever called her spilled out of his mouth in a devotional whisper, and his hands fluttered about his wife, gentle, as if an archeologist dusting away dirt from an artifact, the worry of damaging the prized goods in their hands, overwhelming.

[ceceliaknowsbest]

Cecelia wanted nothing more than to lock her family in their quarters and never let them out of her sight again. Each time the kids went off to school and Juliet to the nursery, every time Sterling walked out the door she was hit with the crushing anxiety that she would never see them again. Cecelia should have never left that day. She should have been able to read through Sterling's words. She had tortured herself over it for days, the way that she had been so oblivious to what her husband had tried to tell her. She couldn't even take relief in knowing that she hadn't been able to give the Capitol any information while they tortured her. Once they realized she knew nothing the torture had just been for sport. Torture to punish her when she had only ever done everything that President Snow had asked except for falling in love and creating a family.

She had been punished for daring to step outside the box that President Snow wanted for her. It was a painful realization that she had had many times in that cell block, hours that had only been interrupted by trying to comfort Peeta or trying to distract herself with Annie. There had been long conversations about their kids, and it had helped some, knowing that Annie was missing her son as much as she was missing her own children. Would Cecelia ever feel normal again? Would she ever smile again the way that she had before? It destroyed her, the way that President Snow had been able to take something from her this time. She had endured fourteen years and in the end, he had managed to break her. Woof and Claudia visited her in her nightmares, reminding her of the way that she had failed. If she had told them that she was done with Sterling would Claudia and her parents still be here? Or would the ending have still been the ending? Was there any way that Claudia could have walked away from that room? Did she walk away from that room? Cecelia still didn't know if what she had seen was real. Some of it had been real.

The Katniss Everdeen standing in front of her is different from the woman that she had met in the mentor's lounge. That day felt like it had been years ago, even though it had been less than three months ago. How was that possible? Looking at Katniss made her think of Peeta. She had tried so hard to help Peeta but there had been nothing that she could have done. "I'm surprised they let her have her cat," she mused. "Are you moving far?" It was still hard for her to see how large Thirteen was, or how small it was. She had barely been out of her quarters and the medical ward. At Katniss's question, she tried to smile but it was forced. "I'm okay. I'm happy to be with my family." That part wasn't a lie. But was she okay? No. "How are you?"

for all of the trying to personalize their homes, there wasn't much for her to pack. katniss rationalized such a thing before, assuring herself that peeta and her would find a way to make their room their own, with clumsy but well-intended steps towards healing and building something truly theirs. that's a foolish hope now — the only residence peeta will ever know for the rest of his miserable life will be the sterile room he's trapped in, without any possibility for any objects in case he fashions them for self-harm or harming others and katniss, well... she should have known not to hope. when has that ever worked out for her? hope to stay by her family, her father dies and her mother goes limp; hope to keep her sister safe, her sister gets reaped on her first reaping; hope to stay out of trouble, is made into the symbol for a rebellion; hope to keep peeta, he gets tortured out of his mind. 

either way, the everdeen family compartment doesn't feel that homey anymore either. she's been given a number to a room she is to share with some other outsider, not in the family quarters nor where they put in newlyweds, and that's as good as she can get for now. her few belongings are already packed, so why not just move out, before prim with her tears and mother with her frowns can try to convince her otherwise? the one thing she does loathe (more than herself, and, at the moment, more than snow) is that by leaving this room, she will have to go deeper underground — the window privileges are for buttercup, not her. avoiding the more crowded elevator, she chooses to take the stairs, and she's barely two levels down when she recognizes someone, who had also recognized her. it's a feat of sorts, for the both of them, seeing as they are both worse for wear. cecelia is much thinner than the few times they've spoken in the mentor's lounge, that lifetime ago, and she's duller, robbed of the spark the capitol always rubs on their livestock. the latter is not a bad thing, though.

for a moment, she wishes she could carry on and pretend she hadn't heard anything, but cecelia has already been fed too much cruelty for katniss to offer any more of that. so she shakes her head at the offer, but approaches — she wouldn't speak louder even if her current state allowed her to, not wishing to draw any more attention than she already has, with who she is and how she looks and who she is speaking with. "our room's too small for me and my sister's cat. she'll miss me less." the smile she tries to wear is costly, and ill-fitting, less so than the dry humor that she has worn for years. "how are you findin' yours?"