she's learned to appreciate the quietude of restrooms after the good first decade in the industry; yes, she loved the parties, & yes, she loved the networking — it's the losing every single year that got her after a while. the talking, & talking, & talking to no end, to no sponsors. effie locked the door from the inside & moved to watch herself in the mirror. perhaps it was the hair color; teal was vintage, indeed, but she supposes too out of style for this year's sponsors. perhaps her smile wasn't bright enough tonight; or much too bright, she notes with a frown at her reflection, blinking repeatedly with a set of dramatic lashes. sc.⠀ ⠀ ʚɞ⠀ ⠀@madusher .
whatever is wrong, must be fixed right away. there is just no possibility of her making back to the tribute center empty - handed. if her victor couldn't guarantee the simplest attempt at giving their tributes a chance, at least the woman should make an effort to not fully embarass herself once again. — she fixes herself up right away; downs a couple pills without water, fixes a pin into a curl that falls perfectly down her face, reapplies lipstick & perfume with a sigh. out of this room, she will go for the sponsors she usually avoids; the ones particularly outgoing, particularly friendly around valley girls, particularly hard to swallow even for the shallowest of them — yes, even for her. even that seems like a better conclusion to that night than——
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀" madeline! " face colorless from something other than makeup, effie stares at the woman behind her through the mirror. her heart borders beating its way out of her chest. " i could've sworn i was by myself. " & instantly schools herself to loosen up, brighten up, turn around her own figure & rest her back against the sink. " don't worry — this is not me locking us up while the party rages outside. although, & our valley years can confirm, we could put all those socialites to shame. "
