| The Jabberbird | THG |

Chapter 3

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you're always holding onto stars / I think they're better from afar / cause no one is gonna save us

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Katniss

My slow mind is just reaching the obvious conclusion when I hear a door click open and the shuffling of shoes. Someone else picks me up, and puts me into a hard chair, with a straight back, and no arms. The action sends a jolt up my spine and makes my brain hurt.

The prep team engulfs me like a pack of chattering vultures, all of them bright and coloured in. some with green eyebrows the length of their forehead, others with orange spiraling eyes or large birds in their hair, and most of them have various aspects of their face that were definitely surgically changed. What normal human has two pupils? Or lips that literally stretch from ear to ear?

Unlike in previous preps I have been in, this team seems to have no regard for my comfort at all, yanking at what remains of my hair like the rigging on a boat. They smear gunge and powder on my face like i'm an iced cake. They strip me down and dress me roughly in a girly orange dress with my thin hair out in less than 10 minutes. Disconnectedly, I think of how much Peeta would've like the colour, which seems ridiculous now, he'll probably never see me in person again.

The whole time none of them speak, which I find odd, my prep team for the games talked the entire time, about their capitol lives, their extravagant parties, their opinions on the games. My guess is that they have been told not to specifically, in case I pick up too much information.

  Another person lifts me under the shoulders and takes me into the place that I knew was coming, the interview room, the cameras are pointed at me, the stage lights hot on my face, blinding me.  They drop me on the couch. I feel like a doll, being carried around and dressed up. I hate it.

Someone comes in, wearing the same armour as the man who took me from my cell to the prep room. A woman this time, I think. She walks towards me and starts reading from a sheet of paper:

"Katniss Everdeen, you have just come back from the arena, you are a confused pregnant girl who knew nothing about the rebel attack and you are fully against it, you believe the capitol system is the only way peace will prevail. You have not yet recovered from the trauma of the arena, or the fact that Peeta has turned against you. If you wish you can make up what you want about him, say he didn't know if you must, but only if you can fulfil the desired output to the rebels and the capitol citizens" She sneers a bit at that

"If you try to communicate in any way with the rebels, or associates outside the capitol, consequences will be huge". She pauses for a few seconds, and even though I can't see her eyes through her helmet, I know they would be fixed on me.

"You will call for a ceasefire. In the most convincing way you can, you will command the rebels to drop their weapons. You will emphasize the damage war could do to our society, how much worse the world could be".

"President Snow would also like to remind you that, when this... 'war' is won, Peeta and you family, including your 'cousin', if they are even still alive. Which I have to say" she grins unpleasantly "is unlikely. Will be returned to the capitol and will await the president's verdict. Who knows what might happen if nobody stands up for them". She turns and walks away. 

I sit, for once fully understanding what I need to do, waiting, until Ceaser Flickerman walks into the room, and sits on the red armchair opposite me. His hair is the same shade as it was during the interviews in the last games. Purple. This makes me wonder how long ago the games were, can't be that long, otherwise he would have dyed it back. He surveys me sadly with his eyes. I feel like he's going to say something, to tell me he's on my side, that he understands, but all he says is