PART ONE: PORCELAIN

Chapter One: Promotions

A/N: So yes, this is going to be another Finnick/OC...I've had this idea revolving in my head for a while now and now I've planned a bit I thought I might post the first chapter. I know that I've still got Leave The Soul Alone going, which is why I'll probably only keep going with this if people are interested :)

You might think that you've seen this idea before, but trust me, I have a lot of surprises in Miri's story for all of you. This story will begin in the 72nd Hunger Games and go through the 74th - the sequel, Ivory, will take place during the Quarter Quell, and the final story, Steel, will be set during Mockingjay.

So please, leave a review letting me know what you think!

The first Hunger Games that Mirinda could actually remember were the 62nd. She had been six years old at the time, and the only reason she thought she could recall every last detail was because of the Victor. The dark-haired girl from 2, whose victory still burned sharp in her mind. How was a child of such a young and impressionable age meant to forget sharp teeth piercing another tribute's throat, blood pouring from the punctures?

Her dad had wanted to Miri to cover her eyes, but she had ever been the curious child. In fact, the more people told her not to do things, the more she was drawn to the temptation of the forbidden. Besides, her grandfather had been responsible for those Games. He had been the Head Gamemaker starting that year, and the 62nd Hunger Games had been a marvellous success.

It was no secret to anyone in the Capitol that Obadiah had lot of influence. He was very good friends with the President himself, and hosted several more of the Games. The 63rd and 64th, won by a brother and sister from District 1. Then there was the 65th Hunger Games – Obadiah's last year of being Head Gamemaker. Miri had been nine by then, too young at that age to appreciate the beauty of the Victor that was fourteen-year-old Finnick Odair.

Miri was not very close with her grandfather. He was a stern man, with grey eyebrows that always reminded her of fluffy caterpillars as a child. He was not affectionate. She couldn't remember him holding her or playing with her. Always the important man, her grandfather Obadiah. Even after he retired gracefully from the position as Head Gamemaker after the 65th Hunger Games, Miri still referred to him as 'sir'.

Miri never remembered her mother. Everyone told her that her name had been Lindy, that she had died in childbirth with Miri. So she had sought out wedding holographs, any sort of indication that her mother had actually existed. But of course she had, for why would everyone be lying to her? How would Miri ever exist if Lindy did not? So she gave up searching – for the time being.

Some of Miri's friends talked about having nightmares about the Games, as if they were in them. Miri never did. She was safe and protected in the Capitol. It was ridiculous to think she would ever be a part of them, to do more than observe on a screen what occurred. Her family was involved in Gamemaking, but that was the closest they would ever get to the arena.

What Miri didn't expect was to ever befriend let alone fall for a Victor. What Miri didn't realise was that the higher her family climbed, the harder they would fall.

"Are you sure about this?" Lilah asked as Miri sauntered confidently into the nightclub. She followed at a much more hesitant pace, brushing her electric-blue bangs out of her eyes. Miri flashed a grin over her shoulder at her reluctant friend. Normally Lilah was the life of the party, but it didn't seem like she was comfortable bluffing their way into a local nightclub.

"Don't be a wimp, Lilah." Miri ran a hand through her hair. Naturally it was a pale blonde, and she didn't like dyeing it for fear it might never go back to its normal colour. However, Miri did have pink streaks weaved into her silky hair, swinging down her back as she crossed determinedly over towards the bar. Lilah grabbed her arm, tugging her back.

"Miri, wait. We could get in so much trouble. We're sixteen."

The bright fluorescent lights and the pulsating rhythm of the music seemed to work a spell over Miri, making her feel alive. She knew that she shouldn't be here, but what was her other option? Being holed up in her apartment? It was the risk-taking that made her heart race.

"No one knows that." Miri frowned, examining Lilah closely. It was just heading out to a nightclub, perhaps something a little riskier than their usual ventures but she would have thought her best friends would appreciate the daring in it. "What's up with you tonight? Is something going on with you and Khalos?"

"He's just being weird." Lilah nibbled at her lip as she thought of her boyfriend. "Look, what the hell. We're here to have fun, right? So let's go have fun."

"That's what I like to hear!" Miri exclaimed approvingly, but before she could reach the bar, her path was blocked by one the bouncers. Lilah instinctively stepped behind her and Miri swallowed.

"Can I please see your identification, girls?"

"Oh, shoot." Miri pretended to check her purse, her tone falsely chirpy. Her heart was hammering in her chest but she was determined to play it casual. If she acted like an adult, she would seem like an adult. "I must have left it behind. But it's okay. Olivier cleared us, you can ask him."

"No need."

Miri groaned as Bentley Fraser stepped away from the bar, a martini in his hand as he inspected her with disdainful amber eyes. Of course he just had to be here. Bentley seemed to be everywhere, watching her every move. He knew her all too well – and she had the distinct feeling that he'd seen her and alerted the bouncer to her being underage. Miri clenched her hands into fists as Bentley swaggered over, eyebrows raised.

"Lilah, security will see to it that you have a ride home. Miri, Seneca wants to speak with you."

Oh shit. It looked like her plan had been completely busted. If Seneca Crane had known that she was going to put it into action, Miri knew things were only going to get worse from here. Lilah looked over her shoulder as the bouncer escorted her out, a pitying look across her face. No matter how much trouble she was in, she knew Miri was in ten times more.

"Where is he?" Miri inquired, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.

"Outside in a limo." Bentley, Seneca's secretary/stalker for hire, kept a firm grip on Miri's elbow as he led her from the club. She didn't meet anyone's eyes, trying not to fume about how embarrassing this all was. She was definitely going to have some things to say to Seneca about discretion.

The air outside was cool, and Miri immediately wished she'd brought a jacket. She rubbed her bare arms, heels clicking down the pavement as she followed Bentley towards a stretch limo parked just outside the nightclub. It looked as though Seneca had known her plan from the very start. Miri grimaced inwardly, steeling herself as Bentley opened the door to the limo.

Miri slid inside, smacking the disco ball irritably away from her head as she shifted across the leather seat. Seneca Crane sat opposite her, swilling a cocktail. She felt a surge of agitation. Why was everyone allowed drinks apart from her? Yeah, she was sixteen, but it wasn't as though she planned to get drunk. She just wanted the one.

"So?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"Watch your tone." Seneca set the cocktail down. "You should know better than this, Mirinda. You're not even seventeen yet. If I catch you in another nightclub…"

"You'll do what, have President Snow arrest me?" Miri asked sarcastically, before adding on a sugar-sweet: "Sir."

Outside the limo, the lights of the Capitol, the nightlife, beckoned her. Miri was so frustrated of being too young for everything, always getting into trouble for doing things because she was still classified as achild.Scowling, Miri angrily ripped the pink streaks from her hair, knowing that Seneca was watching her intently.

"This behaviour will stop." Seneca's tone was firm, and Miri couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I might not be the police, but I have authority over to you. This recklessness is not good for you. You might think you are all grown up, but you aren't an adult yet, Mirinda."

Sometimes, it felt like she was meant to be an adult. All the galas and balls and charity functions she was forced into attending…she didn't do them for herself. She did it because it was expected of her. It was easy enough to force smiles and make conversation for the first two hours, but after that, Miri found herself craving the company of her friends. No, she wasn't yet an adult. But it was confusing when sometimes she was meant to be, and other times, she was meant to adhere to the often derogatory title of 'child'.

"There's something important you need to know." Seneca paused, a slight smile tweaking his lips and making his ridiculous beard twitch. How it was seen as the height of fashion, Miri had no clue. "I will be the Head Gamemaker for the 72nd Hunger Games."

Miri couldn't say that she was overly surprised. Seneca Crane was known to be hardworking and had climbed the rungs of power over the past few years to be where he was today. The promotion to Head Gamemaker had only been a matter of time. Miri wasn't quite sure whether to congratulate him on the achievement, or remain sullen at her scolding.

"You are going to be watched closely by the Capitol during the Games, so you need to behave." Seneca leaned back in the seat, the leather creaking and shifting beneath his suit pants and dress shirt. "Is that clear?"

"Yes," Miri stated, biting back an automatic 'sir', "Yes…Dad."