let me live tonight

[JOY SUNDAY, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER] The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes DESDEMONA HERION, a DISTRICT 4 STYLIST. Word around The Capitol is that they’re ETHEREAL and INTELLECTUAL but can also be SHALLOW and HEDONISTIC. According to sources, they’re 23 and were once described as incessant whispers in the back of the room, risky fashion and safe politics, tongue swollen from biting it, drowning out the noise with a little help. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

Desdemona knew that there were no hierarchies within the teams, not really. They all reported back to the Head Gamemaker, and above that, the President. But on the occasion of her first year as a Games Stylist, she felt... well, if she were being genuine, she felt intimidated by Crest. Oslo had told her about the Mentors, about how they tended to be more intense-- understandably, of course. So when Crest invited Des out for dinner, she felt on edge, like everything had to be perfect lest he deemed her unworthy of her station.

She'd chosen Jakku for this reason-- it was clean and new and the food was the best of the best, second only to private caterers at the Presidential Estate. When she spotted Crest, Des pushed open the door and lifted a hand in greeting. "Hello! They're just clearing our table," she smiled, doing her level best to not let her nervousness show. "Have you been in before? The roast duck is divine, and the drinks, of course, to die for," Des gushed, smiling gratefully at the host who led them to their seats.

Des ordered a rose petal martini and didn't come close to relaxing until her glass was completely empty. Their conversation wasn't forced, necessarily, but it felt as if they were both skirting around mentioning the Games, mixing business with pleasure. After ordering the second round, Des set her menu down and leaned forward, ever-so-slightly. "Can I be very honest with you?" She hardly paused to give him opportunity to disagree. "I'm a bit... daunted by the whole endeavor."

Aside from keeping her tributes beautiful, Desdemona's most important task of the evening was speaking to every team member she could, from all the districts. She'd gotten One out of the way early, thanks to dear Oslo, and was now keeping track of her touch points with a cleverly beaded cuff. Once she'd spoken to everyone from a district, she overturned its number on her wrist and skimmed the room for her next conversation.

She'd just wrapped up a cheery-- on her end, at least-- conversation with the stylist for Twelve. He was seasoned, and had plenty of advice for dealing with more difficult tributes... not that Desdemona felt like she would need it this year, but, she was grateful nonetheless. Des swiped another drink from the chrome bar on the back deck before her eyes landed on the stylist from Eight, whose hands were tragically empty. Des picked up another glass and was at Duri's side in an instant, pressing the cool glass into the other's hand with a wide smile.

"Good evening, dear! It looked like you could use a refreshment," Des smiled. "You look gorgeous," she cooed, tugging at Duri's sleeve to flip it right-side up as if it were second nature. "How are you finding everything this year? Are you quite alright?"

Desdemona loved parties at President Copperhead's mansion, and he was so gracious to host several events each year. Of course, she looked forward most to the winter banquet-- but the welcome ball for the tributes was a close second. The energy in the Capitol was palpable, teeming with anticipation for the event of the year. This year, her first year with tributes to style and a real stake in it all-- it was all intoxicating, overwhelming.

Swirling through the crowd with a drink in hand, Desdemona scanned the faces for her tributes. She smiled at some dear friends, clinked her glass in cheers for the occasion and-- finally. Des locked eyes with Loch and crossed the courtyard, plucking a drink off of a table on her way. She placed the full glass in Loch's hand, a soothing smile on her lips as he took his face by the chin and tilted it left then right. Admiring her handiwork.

"Gorgeous as always. How are you finding everything?" Des asked, releasing him and settling next to Loch to admire the partygoers. "I imagine it can be a bit much for the senses-- have you gotten quite enough to eat?"