💋

"no, it's...quaint, i suppose."

a nervous chuckle, she looks down at the water beneath them as the small boat is pushed by the waves. the ocean is vast, and clear, and eternal, like a mirror that just goes on forever. she's never really seen much of it since her victory tour - she surmises that president snow doesn't like them going back to the districts more than needed. it might remind them that there is something more out there than the capitol for them, something real.

finnick odair and annie cresta live in the victory village of district four. cashmere and gloss just stay at a penthouse in the capitol and pretend that's all there is left for them.

"do you ever just shut up?" she says with a roll of her eyes while she turns her head to the other side, pretends to ignore johanna when she comes down to stand next to her on the balcony. there is an obvious tint embarrassment on her face, being caught in such a vulnerable moment by someone she dislikes profoundly.

the capitol lights at night are beautiful. they look like diamonds of bright colors, and that was a comfort to her during her games. right now, she doesn't think about those lights anymore; maybe she's just busy enough thinking about jumping off the ledge.

"one of us has to be, don't you think?"

there's obvious bite in her words - some of us don't have the leverage of returning home to a couple of shallow graves. some of us still have people we care for back there - it doesn't matter that it sounds bitter and spiteful. cashmere knows not to pretend around johanna anymore, knows it will lead to nothing but frustration. does she resent the twisted freedom that johanna's tragic history has given her? does she resent haymitch for that same reason?

cashmere has always hated to choke on envy towards anyone.

Tbh if you’ve grown up with revolutionary history, authoritarian regimes and even dictatorships, you’ll realize pretty quickly that the revolution in thg wasnt a revolution as much as a coup, a polítical overthrow handled by people who wanted to get snow out of the picture for political reasons. They used the rebels for that. Its always like that, thats how every revolution has worked histórically. Coin and plutarch and the like dont give two fucks about the districts not because they are shady but because they are them as leverage for their own bigger pictures. Thats how it works in real life.

cooing with obvious mockery, cashmere cants her head to the side, the fakest of smiles offered to the redhead before her. they know each other, they have shared the same crowd of capitol elite men and women salivating over their beauty.

that is why mary jane watson is a threat to cashmere. because beauty is a weapon in the world they live in, cashmere carries hers like a crossbow ready to shoot; but mj's is also dangerous.

batting her curled, almost grotesquely long lashes, cashmere leans closer to the district twelve victor, offers a flirty wink of her eye as she speaks, "though i'm sure you already know that, don't you? that you can handle any crowd," peeta mellark is a very cunning young man. peeta mellark is a goddamn snake in the grass that could get all of them killed if he wanted just by charming the capitol long enough. in that aspect, he reminds her of finnick odair and his dazzling, boyish smiles.

with a sardonic, mocking smirk, cashmere moves to perch on the armrest of the sofa where dazai sits, and crossing one bare leg elegantly over the other, she looms closer to him, whispers into his ear, "it's actually very hot how scared everybody is of you."

cashmere leans back, lets out a loud chuckle to conceal her annoyance at how much he's ignoring her right now - nobody in the capitol ignores her. district four tributes reek of fish guts when they first arrive at the capitol - he shouldn't think so highly of himself.

when you keep the districts in the dark about one another - said senator carrow - you keep them ignorant, so you keep them compliant.