Disclaimer: Nope, just a fanfiction writer. I would be richer, if I did.
Story: Seneca Crane doesn't know it, but Katniss Everdeen is his guardian angel. She's doesn't know it, but she's supposed to protect him. When they meet, they collide and soon leads to the War of Angels.
Set AU of the first book, "The Hunger Games."
Spoilers: Probably.
Warnings: Cursing and violence for now…hm, just in case since I'm usually writing it, bit of crazy humor, perverted humor, morbid or sarcastic humor, and maybe some sexual situations…
Pairings: Main Seneca/Katniss, side Katniss/Victors, side Darius/Katniss, one-sided Gale/Katniss, one-sided Peeta/Katniss, Gale/Clove, Peeta/Madge, etc.

Pruit Igoe & Prophecies
Chapter Seven: Flower of Light

Flavius, Venia, and Octavia glanced at the quiet tribute warily, for some reason nervous. Her lack of noise and expression made them uneasy, as well as her very presence. They felt like those gray eyes bored into them and were evaluating their souls. There was something…different about this girl that made them feel like looking through their lives and seeing if they had been as good as they should have been.

"Venia, get started on the waxing," Flavius quietly told his co-worker. "Octavia and I will work on her nails and hair respectively afterwards."

The two women nodded and they glanced one more time at the naked girl, who quietly swung her legs as she sat on the cold metal table.

It was odd trying to perfect an already perfect being, beautiful with all her imperfections and this strange ability to draw people in without any effort.

Afterwards, she was led into a room where she had to wait for her stylist. Someone named Cinna…

Disinterestedly, she let her gaze wander around the plain room, before being startled when the door opened and a dark-skinned man entered. She guessed, surprised that it was a man, that this was her stylist.

"Hello, Katniss. I'm Cinna, your stylist," he murmured, and she felt she could easily get along with this man. "Just give me a moment, all right?"

His simple style reached out to her, and the concession to Capitol fashion in the manner of the gold eyeliner wasn't detracting. He circled her, looking at her with a critical eye, but there was a hint of curiosity.

"You have a rather regal bearing, did you know that?" he suddenly commented.

"Oh really? No, I hadn't known," she answered back in faint amusement, watching just as critically, observing him in a way that tributes usually didn't (they usually were too nervous or didn't care to watch their stylists so closely). It made him as uneasy as he heard his prep team whispering they had been around her.

"Who did your hair? It's beautiful," he murmured. "Such skilled hands. It's such a classic look, as compared to the usual. And almost perfectly balanced to your profile."

"You're new," she said bluntly.

A smile twitched at his lips and he nodded, green eyes twinkling a bit.

"Yes. My first year actually."

"And they gave you District 12?" though she asked, it seemed almost playfully and it made him relax almost instinctively.

"No, I asked for District 12," he grinned freely, liking her even more than he already had from the moment he saw her reaping.

He grabbed her robe and tossed it over to her. She caught it and hurriedly flung it on, walking over to him and was soon discussing the opening ceremony's outfits over a feast she stared enviously at for a moment, before telling herself not to begrudge others of things.

After a quick explanation of the usual outfits done for District 12, Cinna's twist sparked her interest.

"Not on coal mining, but on coal. This fire…explain a little more," she murmured in thought.

And he did. And she was intrigued, if not more than a little apprehensive.

"I want you to be in a white dress though. It'll still be complementary with Portia's design on Peeta, though I've decided to tweak yours a little bit. It'll still be fire centered…but has anyone ever told you that you have this sort of…strangeness to you, kind of angelic? Angelic, in the way that isn't just kind and good, but soulful and judging with a heavy aura. Not just the virtuous and pureness of angels that most people think of, but of the 'passing judgment' side of them as well. The Seraphim are a type of angels, and mean the 'burning ones', or in some translations 'the fiery one.' I think it would be fitting for your appraisal to model you in that design."

She was actually kind of excited about that.

And then she had a tunic-like dress on, a slim v slit opening down her chest and stopping just in the middle of her breasts. The two mounds were fully covered by the material that went up to make up the shoulder straps of the dress. There was a transparent cape attached to her back, and she and Peeta had stepped into a silver chariot (heavenly and yet also could be construed as the railways in the mines) before Cinna set them on fire.

They were set off and when the crowd saw them, they went wild with screams of adoration and hushed whispers of awe. Katniss couldn't hear anything specific, other than the chanting of her and Peeta's name, so she drowned it all out and just smiled coolly, gazing everywhere and unmindful of the fact her eyes made everyone that they passed over feel transparent.

'Angel' many of them whispered. 'Seraphim' was spread, what was the name bestowed upon her; like Cinna had intended, the image he wanted to portray with her now firmly entrenched in everyone's minds, so much so it translated into an official moniker.

And she did look like the burning angels, skin glowing and the cape burning behind her and looking like burning wings because it was see-through and the way it was being blown back easily made them seem like angel wings.

Seneca felt his heart constrict and unknown emotion fill him at the sight of her on his screen, almost forgetting to continue to monitor the Parade, as was his job at the moment. He also, for some reason, felt a sort of familiarity when seeing her.

He didn't even bother to linger on the feelings of safety and warmth he felt, because it was too strange a thought to contemplate, especially at that moment and when he was supposed to be working.

Seraphim, he heard them call her. Fitting. The girl on fire with such an angelic countenance, and whose personality was as fiery as the fire that licked at her dress and at her skin right then.

Would she judge them all and burn them into ashes in the end?

He barely paid attention to the opening ceremony, his gaze and mind focused only on her. He only had half a mind on getting his work done, able to make sure he didn't miss his cues or anything, but he couldn't tear his attention away from her. He was aching inside to come closer, talk to her, anything…

"…your guardian angel…"

He blinked and mentally shook his head, forcing vague memories away and trying to focus on the present. The opening ceremony passed by without much from him and he longed to head to his office or penthouse and forget about this girl.

Instead, he dreamt of Katniss Everdeen the entire night, whispering to him that she would protect him always…

When he woke up the next morning, though he hadn't really gotten any sleep from all the dreams and images he'd had, he felt fully rested and his mind hadn't been restless through the night –in fact, while he'd been plagued by those dreams, his mind had been calm and content watching them.

Rubbing his head, he suddenly felt anxious. There was something coming…something that made him uneasy. It wasn't going to be good, whatever it was. Every gut feeling in him was warning him to be on alert and wary for what was to come.

That didn't bode well for him or give him good signs.

Hurrying through his morning routine, he rushed over to the Training Center, knowing he was too early but unable to just stay still and be plagued by these feelings. He thought he would just stop by the kitchen, maybe grab something for a quick breakfast, when he froze as he caught sight of the very tribute that had haunted his dreams.

Katniss Everdeen…The Seraphim…The Burning Girl…

She was chatting amiably with one of the cooks, snacking on a White House Honey-Oat muffin as she did so. Her gray eyes were bright and her face was fascinatingly animated. He ached to go right next to her, maybe even speak to her…

Without knowing so, his feet had taken him closer until he was right next to them, and the cook was nervously watching him and hoping he wasn't about to be reprimanded or fired. She simply looked at him curiously. With a reassuring smile to the cook, he turned to her and gave a softer smile.

"Miss Everdeen, good morning," he greeted first.

She nodded at him. "Good morning…?"

"Seneca Crane. Head Gamemaker?" he clarified.

Her eyes briefly widened before she settled her face back into a neutral look, though his eyes managed to observe her wary posture.

"May I join you?" he asked her quietly and she hesitantly nodded.

"Sir, is there anything you'd like to have?" the cook tentatively asked him.

"Ricotta pancakes," Seneca decided on. "With orange syrup."

"Y-yes, sir. Right away."

And then they were left alone. Though he didn't look it and was careful to maintain a calm façade, inwardly he was starting to become a wreck and was confused as to why. And although he didn't understand it, he also knew that he just felt inexplicably happy being near her.

"I hadn't expected any of the tributes to be up already or be in the kitchens," he commented.

She shifted uneasily. "I'm sorry. Was I not supposed to be out of the suite yet? Is it even okay for me to be in here?"

"There are no rules against. Tributes simply haven't done so before," he paused before reaching out and patting her hand reassuringly.

He saw her look of surprise before she carefully blanked her face again. His food arrived and he took his utensils, eating politely with slender fingers elegantly holding knife and fork and cutting into a pancake.

"I suppose that's good?" she inquired.

He tilted his head, looking at her. Instead of answering, he cut a piece and held it up to her lips. This time, she didn't bother hiding her look of surprise, openly gazing at him. After another moment, in which he still hadn't said anything and hadn't retracted the piece of food, Katniss hesitantly opened her mouth and leaned over. The ricotta pancake practically melted in her mouth and the orange syrup was quite different and tangy.

"It's good," she muttered, looking away in embarrassment.

"Glad you think so. I suppose that's good?" he turned the tables on her, gesturing at the muffin in her hand with his chin.

"Yes," she answered quizzically and then turning red when he kept looking at her, gaze turning expectant.

Guessing his silent request, she repaid his favor and held out her muffin, watching in fascination as he leaned over her hand and took a bite out of it. She was still watching him intently when he chewed it up and swallowed, watching the bob of his Adam's Apple as he did so, and also the following licking of his lips.

"You're right. That is quite delicious," he commented, grinning slightly. "Would you perhaps share your breakfast with me? You can share mine as well."

It was the strangest request she's ever gotten, if only because of whom the one was asking it. However, it was rather thrilling and unforgettable to be there and then, sharing a meal with the Head Gamemaker.

Katniss found it strange but sort of enlightening talking so amiably with this man, as they enjoyed breakfast together.

"Is it time for the first day to begin yet?" she asked him, polishing off the last bite of his pancakes.

His lips twitched at that, and he returned the act by doing the same to the last of her muffins. He glanced at his watch and frowned, hiding his disappointment.

"Yes, we'll both have to head over to the training room in about fifteen minutes."

"Oh…Wait, you have to go there too?"

He started to smile a little again. "Yes. All Gamemakers must attend to the training sessions and watch. That includes myself as well."

She groaned. "Great. More people, important people, to make a fool of myself in front of."

He laughed lightly. "Who says you'll make a fool of yourself? You'll be fine. And if you aren't so good in front of us…well, you could always charm us. You're a very charming girl. You easily got me to like you right now –you won't have much trouble getting the rest of us to like you. Just…be yourself," he encouraged her and offering advice (which may or may not count as favoritism), slightly teasing her a bit at the end, but also a little serious in case she needed it.

She gave him a shaky smile. "Thanks…"

"It is my pleasure, Miss Everdeen," he murmured, taking her hand and kissing it.

Her face flushed red, but she quite enjoyed the gentlemanly move.

Seneca hesitated before continuing. "I would also like it if you would join me for dinner tonight. If I may request your company?"

Completely and utterly shocked, all she could do was stare dumbly at him, unable to answer. When her hand he still held was squeezed slightly to prompt an answer, she swallowed nervously and gave a tentative nod.

"Alright…I would be happy to do so," she agreed.

"Fantastic. I will be…looking forward to it."

It was probably the strangest encounter she's ever had…but for some reason, she felt this simple time with him was the best time of her life.

The two of them paused, just staring at each other for a moment in a strange contentedness that she was pretty sure neither of them understood but both shared. His hand raised and brushed back her hair behind her ear tenderly.

"I look forward to tonight," he murmured.

They shared one last look before he left first and she was left to stare behind him. She faltered, nearly buckling down and almost unable to hold up her own weight. The encounter was strangely so…intimate, especially with how simple it had been.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she finally straightened herself out and took a deep breath. She thanked the cook who'd agreed to serve her, and the Head Gamemaker when he'd come after, and then made her own way to the training room. There, she couldn't help her eyes trailing to the handsome man she'd dined with, though she forcefully averted her eyes and focused in on the knot she was fumbling with.

However, she felt someone come tentatively closer, and she looked to see the District 1 male tribute hesitating by her side. Pursing her lips, she raised her eyebrow at him questioningly. He awkwardly cleared his throat.

"My name is Marvel," he quietly introduced himself.

She stared at him, inwardly rather bewildered and wary, but she managed to quirk one side of her lips up in a friendly motion.

"Katniss," she likewise introduced herself simply.

For whatever reason, Marvel of District 1 had chosen to gravitate towards her.

He'd sent for her. He'd really sent for her.

Katniss wasn't sure how to take it. On one hand, she hadn't really thought he was being serious. She was caught off guard now. Furthermore, she was nervous because of who he was and the fact that she would be alone with him. In his place. At night.

And damn it, why was he so familiar?

She couldn't shake off the feeling she'd known him before, like a long time ago…And yet that made no sense. There was no way for her to have known him before this time.

Her thoughts immediately quieted until nothing but silence seemed to permeate her head, as she was now in front of his door. The fact that she'd been taken from the assigned District 12 penthouse, to his personal quarters in the Training Center, had finally and completely shoved its way to the forefront of her brain and she was at a lost now that she was alone and in front of his door.

She almost wanted the Peacekeeper who had escorted her there to come back.

Deciding to brave it, she knocked firmly on the door and it opened. She was surprised that it had opened quickly and Seneca was there, smiling lightly at her.

"Hello," he murmured politely. "Please. Come in."

He stepped aside and she walked through, trying not to seem so nervous. But she was and she really wasn't so good at hiding those kinds of emotions at times. Like then.

"Please relax," Seneca smiled gently at her. "Are you hungry? I'd prepared a dinner for us to share together, if you are."

"Um, that would be great," she finally gave a small smile back.

A light, almost sort of airy music played in the background, and it helped to calm her and make her relaxed in his presence and in his assigned penthouse. He was suddenly beside her, a gentle hand on her back while the other took one of her arms, leading her to a room with a small table, laden with a full meal. She noted the almost dark rooms, though light was provided by the multitude of candles lit up around them. It seemed like a very intimate setting…

"I hope you don't mind the lack of lighting," he commented lightly. "I thought the candles and soft glow of the little lighting against the dimness of the rest of the room would make for a great atmosphere."

"It feels lovely," she cast her eyes around in quiet wonder.

Like a gentleman, he led her to her chair and sat her down, pushing in her seat afterwards. Then, they started to eat quietly, though it wasn't uncomfortable. They traded small, contented smiles, and Katniss suddenly wondered what on earth was really going on right then.

She couldn't fathom what the two of them were doing, in that setting, and with each other.

Yet, there the two of them were.

They finished eating and she honestly didn't know what to expect next. So she allowed and curiously followed Seneca's lead as he came over to her and took her hand, getting her up and leading her away to another room. More candles were lit around the room, which was much smaller than the other and of average size. There was another table, but was closer to being a floor table, with a pillow set on either side of it, opposite each other.

It was strangely even more intimate than before.

Seneca led her to the table, sitting on one side as he sat on the other. Sitting on his knees, she copied him before looking back to his face and feeling more confusion. However, she also contradictorily felt at ease with him as well…

She watched him quietly, as he reached down and took a small cloth and dipped it into the bowl filled with water between them. She said nothing as he reached over and brushed it against her face, and gently going down from her temple to her cheek, across her forehead, down the bridge and to the tip of her nose, and across the bow of her lips. She could feel water run down her skin, dripping and slightly soaking her clothes.

As his hand pressed the wet cloth against her neck, she reached up and stopped it, holding her hand on top of his as she stared into his eyes. Without looking away, she took the cloth from him and dipped it again, before copying his actions. Running it across his lips, she suddenly dropped her hand and lay the cloth on the table, still staring into steel blue eyes.

His hand slid onto hers.

"Have I known you before?" he breathily spoke, almost desperate.

"I don't know," she said softly.

But for some reason, it was almost as if they had already known each other.

Started 7/15/12 – Completed 11/30/13

A/n: Argh, it's really been so long since I've worked on my Hunger Game fics. I'm so sorry, guys! I hope the ones still reading them are still interested and like them. Also, I've slightly changed the pairings (as you can see above), more to do with adding Katniss/Victors (harem) since HG doesn't really look to have any and I've become very fond of Katniss with the other Victors due to the beginning of this and the hints in "Caged Nightgale." In any case, please leave a review! I enjoy and really love getting feedback from everyone!