death & capital

apollo vale. district 4 escort.

[edenthaw]

theta’s mouth opened in protest but before she could say anything he’d grabbed the fabric. it was a find she’d never thought she’d find. “it’s a mix of cashmere, silk and vicuna fabric.” she told him. “i just… i dunno, i thought it might work with some gold or something for my district- and there’s nothing wrong with the yellow.”

[apollovale-blog]

“What is vicuna fabric? It doesn’t sound normal. Or healthy, for that matter.” He looked at her like she’d said something a good deal more scandalous than there being nothing wrong with the yellow. “Show anyone that yellow, and they will die instantly from the shock of it. You can’t market it. Not even to someone from twelve who doesn’t know what colour is.” His words had gotten increasingly bitter as he’d continued, but this was not because of the fabric. Not really. “Burn it. Contact the manufacturer. Tell them to burn all their stock. Kill the yellow.”

[edenthaw]

she looked down at the fabrics, then back up at apollo. “okay, first of all - shut up. you don’t even know what that one was for because you didn’t allow me to tell you. and second of all, did you even look at the other one?” she pulled the black fabric out and made a face at him, putting the fabric near his face.

[apollovale-blog]

“I looked,” he protested. He hadn’t looked. “I’ll look again. I can still confirm that it’s better than the yellow. Anything would be. And it doesn’t matter what it was for -- it should not exist at all. Are we done here? No, wait, give me that.” He reached out for the black fabric. "What is it?" 

[edenthaw]

another habitual eye roll happened, with theta almost letting out a groan. “you know, you escorts are just so terribly difficult to work with.” she said curtly before letting herself in. she dropped the bag she was carrying and bent down to open it up, but before she pulled out the fabrics, she stood up and looked at apollo. “promise that you won’t tell anyone though.”

[apollovale-blog]

“I’ll be telling the whole capitol the first chance I get. I promise you that.” He tilted his head, studying the fabrics with his best critical eye. “That is the most hideous yellow I’ve ever seen. Other one wins by default. You’re welcome.”

[edenthaw]

theta managed to roll her eyes before she spoke. the escorts rarely had any respect for the stylists. it didn’t help that they were from opposing districts, but she thought that an outside opinion might help her in the long run. it might also get her in trouble in the long run, but she honestly couldn’t care. “thank you, apollo. like i said, all i need is an opinion between two fabrics.”

[apollovale-blog]

“Fabrics? You’re joking. You do realize all my outfits are picked for me, don’t you?” This was not true. Apollo generally insisted upon having some say in the matter of clothing. “Show me what you’ve got. I’ll see what I can do.”

[xhartisms-blog]

“Well,” Carden paused, eyes narrowing at his fellow escort. “Would you happen to know where the rest of my crew is? It seems they’ve wandered off. Again”

[apollovale-blog]

“And you think I have all the answers regarding your missing crew?” He laughed, shaking his head. “No. You find them yourself.” Maybe he could help a little, though. He leaned in conspiratorially. “I saw one of them on this floor. Twenty minutes ago. Not very good information, but you can take it or leave it. It’s all I’ve got.”

[jupiterbastion-blog]

Jupiter gave a small chuckle, lips curled into a shit-eating grin. “It’s your lucky night!” He didn’t make a habit of sharing drinks with the Capitol’s pawns ( let alone one that didn’t even represent his own district ), but he was already feeling the affects of the mead, a pleasant haze permeating his thoughts and reminding him to ‘be nice, be nice, be nice’. “What brings you around my neck of the woods?” 

[apollovale-blog]

“Business,” said Apollo. A word which, in context, meant that he’d been doing the government’s bidding. He was certain the victor -- which year had crowned the drunk man victor? Apollo felt guilty for his inability to remember that, or a name, or anything -- would understand immediately. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Not Apollo’s problem. “But I don’t feel like returning to business yet. They don't let us tell anyone this, but it's a royal pain in the--” Maybe it was best not to complain too much. "Never mind. Those were empty words."

[apollovale-blog]

“I hear what you’re saying, and I sympathize -- who wouldn’t? -- but I cannot help tonight.” He moved to shut the door, but experienced a change of heart before it had closed completely. It wasn’t that late. He had time. And he hardly needed sleep. “Fine. What can I do?”

[acstheticism]

Isaac looked like he was about to pull his own hair out as he dropped the project he’d been busy with: modifying his prosthetic hand. “It’s not working, it’s not working, it’s not working, it’s not–”

[apollovale-blog]

“Let me guess: not working?” His smile was a bit forced. “This is a fool’s errand. Have someone else do it. If they can, that is.”

[jupiterbastion-blog]

There was an unusual stillness to the air as Jupiter sat on the stoop outside of his home. Victor’s Village wasn’t known for its liveliness, sure, but this was just…pathetic. Not that he didn’t understand why — within a few weeks’ time, half of the homes there would be vacated, their occupants mere memories to their families and friends. It was a rather depressing thought, so Jupiter opted not to think about it at all. Instead, he took a swig of mead; a gift from an admirer in the Capitol, it wasn’t nearly enough to get him as drunk as he felt he needed to be, but Jupiter found that it was just enough to take the edge off. “Want a sip?” he offered the person walking by. “I hardly ever drink the stuff, but I figured there’s no time like the present. Probably won’t get the chance after tonight, anyway.”

[apollovale-blog]

The business he’d been attending to had long since been wrapped up, but Apollo lingered, as if staying away could stave off obligation. It was a miracle they were letting him linger at all. He counted this blessing over and over again as he walked, quietly, through the village. And then a man -- a drunk man, it seemed, and a vaguely recognizable one -- offered him a sip of something. “No, thank you.” Then he thought better of refusals. “You make a habit of offering drinks to those who pass you buy? Or did I get lucky?”