Dear Miss Eisenhardt, I would like to congratulate you on your victory once more. That platinum and pearl crown on your dark locks truly made you look like some ethereal being. I believe you and Mr. Odair had started a trend within the Capitol of sea related fashion.
However this is no ordinary letter for the victor on their victory tour as they reach the Capitol. This is a special letter, a letter that goes strictly to those that have caught the hearts and eyes of the Capitol.
One of your sponsors, a Cathal Hayes would like to meet you in person and have the pleasure of your company.
Your mentors should be able to fill in the details, particularly Mr. Odair.
Panem today. Panem tomorrow. Panem Forever.
—President Coriolanus Snow
Melody felt her hands tremble as she held the paper in her hand reading it over and over again. Her brown locks curled and tied to show her side profile before she lifted her eyes to meet her mentor’s. ‘What does he mean by company?” Voice cracking, Melody looked at the fellow Four mentor who just stared at her. She gripped her dark locks and shut her eyes tightly before letting out a scream.
They polished her up like the doll she became and not a single sign that she had been screaming and throwing things a few hours ago. So there she was, sipping at glass of champagne. The ring on her finger tapping against the glass, she eyed the crowd. The fear she felt not shown, and only a girl who seemed to be the happiest she’s ever been. She graced the audience with the show they wanted . She batted her eyes, smiled, and laughed at their obscene jokes. Before she was pulled by one of the game makers and presented to a man, well dressed and his hair slicked back. It was not flamboyant, but he knew that he didn’t need it. He was handsome, but there was something in his eyes that caused bile to run to the back of her throat.
This is Cathal Hayes.
Her lowered eyes snapped up to look at him and she had to force every nerve in her body not to attack him. Mane him in some way. How dare he think he could buy her? How dare he think that she’d so willingly come to his room and lavish him with adoration. This was not a fact that they told the careers as they trained to become victors. If she knew this, she would have jumped off the platform long before the countdown even started. A quick death.
“Mr. Hayes.” A low voice, she curtsied as her escort taught her to behave. Like a princess. She then locked her eyes on his and tried to convey all the hatred she had for this man, for the circumstances she was placed in. All because she was pretty a new play thing for these ugly people.
– Oh, rich Capitol man; What new toy have you for me?
Excited was hardly the word to describe young and greedy Cathal Hayes; index finger tapping at the gold hilt of his cane, a bright emerald embedded at the handle’s top, and a tenor voice humming along to the song that played in the overhead; Polished shoes sliding against the marbled floors to a beat, ironed suit wrinkling with every restless movement he made. Yet all his tiny mannerisms at present were nothing in comparison to that odd, lopsided grin he wore on his face.
Yet fooled are none by such a friendly countenance – It was known amongst many that Cathal was no innocent man. Immortalized in his being was the greed of a rich family. It had started with rich grandparents, continued with richer parents, and still lives on in the pockets of a custom-tailored suit – One of hundreds, a diamond in a sky-reaching pile of other treasure. Such things were so common, so familiar to Cathal that they were practically sand – Plentiful, and often times too many to count. What little meaning do they hold, yet, so attractive to the eye are they that they simply cannot be let go of.
The obsession had started when he was younger, much younger. Little toys strewn across his room: Large boat models reminiscent of the ones in the fishing district, figures of the army ( and a hundred of them ), and play guns by the dozens that he used to torment the neighbor girls. When he’d grown to seventeen years old, his greed had focused on being the suavest, the richest of the people around him – Although, to show it through looks. Parents had integrated in him, at this point, the importance of the outward appearance of the Capitol citizen: The more extravagant you went, the richer you were. Yes, status had become rather important to the boy at this age.
And that carried through for the next few years – Oh, Cathal had grown into a charming devil. He was the perfect embodiment of money, charm, and looks, plus a little bit of poetry. He had the face of Adonis, the wealth of a caesar, and the vernacular of classic poetry. He was god turned the devil. The description was plainly given, too, especially once his smug expression had been put into vision.
“Eisenhardt."
– A breathy, excited exasperation of the low tone of his voice. He made a wave of his hand to dismiss the show of politeness, eyes dancing along the figure of his newest possession. Suited perfection made a low bow, but he made no move closer to her. Not yet, he reminded himself.
Not until the horse had been broken in.
For though Cathal was greedy, he was not blinded. He knew the value of caution, the importance of counting what was his and treating such material beings with care. And so he stayed, within grabbing distance of the woman, the picture of god on earth.
"I trust your accommodations are well-suited for you? Such delicacy shouldn’t be forced into less-than-wonderful environments.”
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