ad astra

“Well, like I said, it’s not romantic,” she told her. “I’m definitely not looking for something messy. Or at least, I’d rather be the moody one in the relationship.”

“Still it’s a good thing to keep in mind if your on the market. I had a relative once give me some sold advice to your point. Always be the crazier one in a relationship.” She took a sip from her drink, thinking of her great-grandmother passing on those words. “Victors are plenty crazy on their own.”

“Ooh! Exciting,” Georgia said with a smile. “Being single is great, though I am getting a little tired of it. I’m here with Mac, from Three, but I don’t think it’s really romantic.” She nodded. “I am new. Ish. I escort for Nine.”

“Snagged yourself a victor’s arm for the night. Good for you.” She’d considered throwing her efforts behind one, but in the end Basil was much more gullible. “I’d watch out though, they’re notoriously moody. More a one ride wonder than a season pass when it comes to romance.” 

Cain turned to Zoya and took the scrunchie with a nod. He was half way through setting up the shot again when he stopped. “How much are we talking?” He asked with a crooked grin. How much money he won or lost really wasn’t important to him. Cain did things mostly just because he could. “Cause I’ll bet you more than ten, if you’re willing to lose that much.”

“You tell me the price, I’ll tell you if it’s too rich. Or better yet, I’ll pledge it to the next tribute of yours with an actual chance.” She took the seat next to the young victor, eyeballing the purse and her fellow capitol citizen. They deserved whatever came of their purse.

She turned, walking awkwardly around for Zoya. she wanted to do her best, she wanted to wear this comfortable sweater forever. she remembered living in sweaters like this, before it all. there was a part of her, a big part, that didn’t want to change out of it.

but it was too young, so she nodded, smiling and turning back and shoving the feelings back into their box where they belonged. she knew where the red dress was. so quickly, she walked back, folding her clothes carefully when she changed out of them and when she came back out, she was wearing the requested red dress. she stood, awkward, and smiled. she felt pretty in this too. she liked feeling pretty.

The sweater was brought back out to her and she set it aside with the rest of the discarded garments. In her hands, it did feel luxurious and she called one of the sales women to the side and made a request before Adair stepped out again.

“Oh!” She stood this time and walked around the other woman, adjusted the scarf this way and then that. It was simple, but she’d gotten by on simple palettes during her own courtship years. “Tell me what you think of this one.”

Hearing zoya’s voice she nodded, jolted out of her fascinated pause, and opened the door, showing off the sweater and the skirt, even turning around a bit. she grabbed her pencil and wrote zoya a note, hoping she wouldn’t get in trouble for it. but she couldn’t help it, she had opinions.

This is the softest thing ever. Anyone would be lucky to have it. she dropped the note in zoya’s hand, so she could read it. Addy sure felt lucky to be wearing it right now. she never wanted to take it off.

"Twirl for me, walk around." She smiled at the note before placing it on the side table. With her hair up, the woman looked less like the other accompanying avoxes and more like a customer at the store. She'd never paid too much attention to district seven or their followers, but there was a memory of this girl wedged in her head. Brunette, coffee, something even about ducks maybe.

She leaned forward and shook her head. "I'm not sure. Too young, right? Let's try on the dress next. The red one."

just her sister’s height and size? oh. well, she wasn’t about to say no, especially with how impatient Zoya already sounded today. with sponsors and capitolites, it was always best to just do as they said. she took the clothes she was handed and walked into the changing room, quickly stripping, putting on the sweater and skirt, and tying her hair back up into a presentable bun again. it was all efficient and quick, because she was good at changing fast.

she looked at herself in the mirror and paused. with her brown roots covering her head, and her white hair tied in a bun at the root of her head… if she kept her mouth closed, she looked almost normal again. a little more tired, a little older, but… it didn’t look like an Avox. it was odd. but good! especially with how soft the cashmere was against her skin. surely she had worn something this comfortable before, but she couldn’t remember it. this felt like a cloud. And modest enough too, unlike the uniforms with their new slit.

she almost forgot about zoya outside, for a second, too surprised by her own appearance. that was her, in the mirror. that was Addy.

She busied herself with a few emails while Adair dressed. The recent changes to the arena were exciting, but it left many bets and odds up in the air. Any new developments would be streamed live into any of the salons many televisions, but there were also district teams knocking for supplies. 

She sent one off to the capitol’s team, pledging a couple hundred dollars or so, before calling out, “Adair! Let me see what we have!”

Addy hadn’t been to this shop since she was twelve. it was very expensive, trendy clothes, and while she’d gotten a dress and a sweater here once, told it was average for the capitol, most of her wardrobe had been ordered online since. capitol shopping was just something else.

she hadn’t expected to be asked to accompany a sponsor to buy clothes, but this was a fancy store, and surely there would be bags to carry, and she started to understand the request. when she was pulled forward though, she looked baffled. she nodded at her name, even though she went by Addy, and looked down at herself. she pointed to her chest, confused. the question was clear in her face and eyes.

me? step in? for what?

“Well don’t shuffle your feet.” She wiggled her fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. Patience was something she was tending to loose over the past year or so. Once the avox was close enough she leaned forward and ran her eyes from head to toe. The coloring and complexion was wrong, but the height and body seemed almost dead on. “You’ll do well.”

She sat back and took another sip of her martini, smiling at the other woman’s perplexed look. A couple store attendants stood by waiting for her next orders. “I want you to try on the clothes that we’ve selected. You’re just my sister’s height and size. Sound good?”

Four little siblings. One fortune. 

“Gus, I don’t have time for this. I have a interest meeting in ten. Just talk to sissy.” 

She hung up quickly before he could get another word in and grabbed at her martini. It was midday and she was stationed at her favorite salon trying to pick out a gift for her younger sister’s birthday party. Per usual, she’d grabbed an entourage of chauffer and avoxes to accompany her little shopping spree. And, without a proper model to wear the outfits, she ushered one of them forward. “Adair, right?” she asked, eyeing her stature and deciding that yes she would do find. “Step in for this failure. I’m not spending another minute watching her ruin these clothes.”

“I’m thinking adventurous,” Moxie answered assuredly, more than confident her answer was the correct one. She glance down at the menu she had clutched between her hands and continued, “When is the next time you’re going to be able to order something this intricate without getting laughed out of a bar for it?”

“Do you think they let the bartenders come up with the names?” Her fingers ran over the words Et tu, Brute? and then down to Scylla’s Wrath. Some of them were obviously inspired by events that had happened less than a day prior. “Or is there a whole department of gamemakers that sit around filtering these ideas out to the event planners?”

“The question is, really, do we succumb into the grotesque or the prideful? Because I can call my profession monstrous or godly just the same.” Normally, he didn’t care for labels. Tonight’s flashy theme asked for the moral debate, though, and Lysander, hyper self-aware and cynical, did have strong opinions. “Don’t take my presence here as making a choice. I’m still debating.”

“Can we not have both? I thought that was the beauty of being born here in our capitol. Nothing is all good or all bad.” As she spoke, one of the petals from her dress floated toward the floor. The flowers were fresh, but the night was dragging closer to midnight and her outfit would only survive one wear. “It’ll be interesting to see your choice though.”