#avox

His mother bestows greater gifts as he grows. He will be curious and wish to discover wonders. They will embolden and dismantle the wretched propriety he will have once held dear to his heart—the thing that festers outwards—until he learns letting go is trailing sorrow behind in hopes of one day leaving it, ambivalent. He will go looking for that which will never satisfy that rotting heart of his, as he grows into his father's throat. 

There’s rain coming down hard tonight. It’s almost thunderous, an infrequent treat down here. You have known for a long time that the weather is fitted to the Capitol’s whims- it’s very convenient, helpful. They use it in the games sometimes, and you seem to remember an occasion where the storms ravaged District Four, though you couldn’t come up with any details if asked. You put on a hint of makeup about an hour ago. You’ve read in the past that it was just women who were permitted to wear makeup, and it still is that way in many of the districts. You wonder if they all know what one another looks like without glitter and lipstick. You revel in the fact that you’ll never have to learn.

Tonight is the dinner you invited Finnick Odair to. You’d gotten his name from another patron at the gala- an escort with platinum blonde curls and light blue eyeshadow who’d promised to send an invite herself (you knew she was looking for your favor, but you do not care much about it). Everyone wants something from you. You perhaps didn’t have to fight as hard as others would have to, but what you’ve taken- your ever-growing choke hold on the elite of Panem- is something to be proud of. You smile at that and catch your reflection in the mirror.

You’re grinning like a devil. 

You’ve worn a soft satin shirt- something worth good money but not overtly flaunting, a dark blue, you’ve been told, looks nice with your favorite jewelry, which is none at all. You’d thought about a tie and decided strongly against it. You weren’t trying to rope him into a new governance factor; you were hoping for a decent glass of wine and a nice conversation- a break from politics. You had a look at the tributes from his district as well- the ones you’d been considering sponsoring. They’re promising enough, the girl has soft eyes, though. A bit of you whispers that they probably failed media training and it’s really quite the struggle to remember that they didn’t have 12 private lessons each day- every day from birth on how to be a walking magnet. No, they had…

well. 

The bell rings as you take a seat at the dining table, neatly dressed in dark greens and golds like the rest of the house. Earthier tones had always looked nice to you, and this manor actually wasn’t a custom build but a property you bought off from a liquor salesman when it’d already had a very natural look. He’d wanted to imitate his prized grape vineyards, which had always felt a tad bit odd. You consider that you might move to the outskirts- by the wall if your house was designed after meetings and lip service. You listen to the footsteps, examining the bottle on the table.

Two sets- one of the few avoxes you keep and Odair himself. The avoxes’s name is Eilen-  and she’s on the younger side. Neat brown hair that lost its shine, but she does good work, and you gave her and the other one a wing of the house, mostly because they’re loyal and dedicated, and a bit for the fact you’d heard the strange crying noises that tongueless sob’s make from Eilen’s bedroom one night. You didn’t enjoy that.

Shaking your head lightly for the sensation of it- honestly, where have your thoughts been wandering of late? You look up and stand to greet Finnick. He’s dressed a little less flashily than last time, but something that catches your eye is a skirt with light gold lacing like sea foam, on layered blue. It suits him, it brings out his eyes. You wonder if it reminds him of home? You wonder how many times he’s been told about his eyes. It must get old, no? “Odair! A pleasure to see you,” you greet, smile upon you face.

“Hey sweetheart, nice place you got here,” he responds, although he doesn’t seem to care about the surroundings, eyes affixed on you, as if you’re the only thing to look at. “Well, it’s a bit less decked out than I’m sure you’re used to, but it’s home,” you say, and at his slightly cute smile, take him by one shoulder and guide him onto the chair across from you as Elien slips out. He lends himself to the touch, which is almost goosebumps at how smooth of a transition it is, and once you’re both sitting, he talks. “Now, I don’t want to dredge the mood, but I wanted to ask if you’d thought about my proposal, hun?” he asks, and you lift your eyebrows in acknowledgment as you take his goblet. You line both of the crystaline glasses up as you respond, “I have, infact. I will sponsor them this year- specifically the boy; he seems to show good promise.” 

Finnick watches the fluid movements of your hands as you pour wine into both cups, a color a shade too red to be mistaken for lipstick filling them halfway. “It’s an older brew- around the 50th games, I believe,” you start to tell him as he sips it, making a little bit of a face when he thinks you've looked away. You let out a small chuckle despite yourself, and he looks like a deer in headlights at being caught. “It is quite lovely, sweetheart just a bit intense for me-“ he begins to reassure you, taking another bigger sip and hiding his distaste rather impressively. “Eilen!” you call, raising two fingers and your tone, but careful to keep out any emotional tonage out of it- she’s never done well with loud, angry guests (or you, the few times you’ve been hammered and growling like a spoiled brat). Finnick, a bit surprised, interjects, “Ah- darling, it’s quite alright.” 

Eilen has hurried in by now, and you tell Finnick that; “Well, you’re my guest, no? I’ll take care of you here, no need to blush about it.” And then to Eilen you request “-something a bit fruity, sweet, if you could? Would appreciate it.” and she smiles and nods, darting off into the kitchen. Finnick blinks and says with a bit of contempt that “That was a polite tone to take with an Avox.” It’s a question trying to masquerade as a statement, and you can understand where he’s coming from. “Oh? That’s Eilen; she’s the lady of the house, in a way. Handles most everything around here- very polite.” You’re aware that doesn’t answer his question, but how would you?

You change your train of thought again as Finnick sips the bright pink drink, and his eyes widen. “Wow, honey, you’ve utterly outdone yourself here.” She smiles at the blond and ducks her head before you give his a light incline of the head, and she goes off into the kitchen. You’re smiling despite your composure at just him, which is incredibly odd as you’ve barely talked. “So, how’s the world of the capitol’s finest, hm?” Finnick asks, one hand balancing his chin as he stares at you, big sea-green eyes clear and slightly lidded, not full flirt.

“Ah. Wouldn’t call myself the finest, exactly- that honor belongs to our dear president,” you sip your wine and catch just a flicker of resentment across the man’s face, odd, given you’d always heard the districts regarded Snow as a sort of god. Always providing for them, occasionally taking a sacrifice. 

“-But of course, it’s busy. This time of the year is quite hectic, though I’m sure even more so for a man such as yourself, who has a very active role.” You don’t say in the games aloud, but it’s more than implied and an invitation. He grins through slightly gritted teeth, perfectly white ones. You recall vaguely some scandal about Victor's teeth whitening, which was very odd to you- because almost everyone here in the Capitol had some sort of major procedures done. You hadn’t, though it had been recommended- just too busy, and your mother hadn’t forced it- likely because she rarely looked at you. 

“Honey, I’ve got an… active role all year round.” He teases with a smirk. It’s a deflection, but you’ll allow it, leaning back in your chair. Just then, there’s a rather alarming noise from the kitchen- a sort of strained inhuman noise and a crash. You snap up a little more slowly than your guest, who moves like a snapped coil. You set your glass down and, with a small nod at Finnick, lightly run into the kitchen, more mildly concerned than anything. 

Eilen is on the floor, and your vision splits a little at seeing the red. She’s pushing herself up, clearly dazed, bracing against the lower cabinet doors. There’s a bottle of oil shattered nearby and slip marks. You can price it together, dropping onto one knee like a coach next to her. She flinches badly, then goes still, spooked like a deer in headlights, big big eyes. You still a bit knowing you’re being a bit intimidating- not to another of your status, maybe, but to an avox who just interrupted dinner and broke a bottle of 400 dollar pure basil oil-

“Eilen, don’t move, alright? If you’ve gotten a concussion, that’ll just make it worse. You’re alright.” You aren’t… angry, although slightly disappointed. Looking up, smoke is curling, and you start to stand when you hear footsteps. Finnick is standing in the foyer, grimacing. How does he make grimacing look pretty?

A good question you have no answer for. 

Wait, what. 

What are you thinking about?

 “Odair, could you turn off the stove? I think the fish is-“ you glance at the chars. “…erm. Done.” Finnick quickly moves to do so, as you turn your attention to the lightly quivering servant. Lightly is a bit generous, you remark mentally, frowning as you grab a cooler packet of… what is this, some exotic fish? Anyhow, it’s cold and sealed. You press it in the avox’s hand, fighting an eye roll at the flinch. She tries to stand up, turning slightly in the direction of where she was prepping the food. “-No, no- don’t cook it, Eilen. Press it, yeah, just like that.” 

Finnick is prodding at the fish’s utterly useless remains, and he says a bit softer but still playful, as if trying to mold himself into the mood, “Well… that’s dinner, sweetheart.” You snort, undignified, and that’s weird too. You’ve been odd around this one. Wonder why, actually- you’ve had hundreds of formal dinners. “Can you grab the first aid kit from the… Eilen, where is it?” You ask. She blinks softly, dazed, but makes an effort to point into the hall. “Sure, honey.” Says Finnick, with pure amusement. He’s probably quite dissatisfied by this turn of events, but it’s not exactly been a planned sequence. While he grabs it, you put the pan in the sink, trying not to touch the dirty water, but to let it soak so your expensive pan isn’t gone. Why did you get such… oh, yeah, hadn’t some gamemaker given them as a joke gift? Whatever, joke's on him, you got use. 

You remember the first time you’d scared an avox.

Not the first time you’d seen one- you’d grown up in a manor with plenty. You’d been maybe twelve, thirteen, angry at the world for absolutely no reason. Maybe mad at your mom for her twice a year appearances, or mad at your tutors for being so awful (all fell into either suck-ups to wealth or condescending just because they could be), or perhaps even .. you won’t think about that right now. Whatever it was, there were so many kids who were having worse times, like Loram, the avox who’d walked into the cellar to do some work and startled as much as you had when he saw you by the bottles, tears streaming down hot skin. You’d yelled. 

You’d sounded like her.

You’d sounded like….. him.

Finnick tosses the med kit to you and raises a brow. “Nice catch, sweetie.” You smile at him, although it’s mostly politeness, still shaking off the haze of the memory. As you check her eyes with a pen light from the box, Finnick stares. You know you’re weird about your servants. You don’t, you don’t know exactly why, but sometimes you can’t just make them as faceless as you pretend they are. 

She does seem a bit off, but her pupil movement looks good enough. “Hm. Just head to bed for now. I’ll figure out about dinner, I suppose.” You tell her, sighing heavily, as though it’s an inconvenience, not an order. She nods slowly, unsure, but slowly gets herself out the doorway. “Odair, I do apologize for this, but I don’t have any other staff working tonight- it wasn’t necessary earlier. I could arrange for us to have… dessert and wine, though rather-“

 “Baby, it’s fine. That’s fine.” The man with eyes like sea glass says, a funny-looking grin in the corner of his lips. 

------------------------