Xiomara Pena

oh, this girl. for all the promise that two raises fighters, soldiers, people willing to compromise for glory, sometimes they bring people with tongues bigger than their mouths — domitila openly glares at this one now. "don't be stupid. i'd never put you in anything similar to what a rebel may wear. i'm not fucking cinna," for someone who knows how to reign in profanities, she speaks them well when she has to, when her nerves are spiked as they are now. "have you not seen thea's interview? everything speaks something, even when one is quiet, xiomara. whatever would it mean if you wore black to a happy interview? it may not be your strength, but think!"

outburst is contained swiftly, however. domitila so loathes to lose her cool, especially with people beneath her around her, people she's always put on a face with (well, sort of everyone. it's not as if she has many people she's ever felt entirely comfortable with sharing things, and she doubts that the peña girl would change that). "there are ways to change that, you know. i know of someone who has a wonderful doctor — they sprouted up some three or four inches!" instead of fury, she goes on nonsense instead even if she swears it is all true. there is a pause. "i know you don't trust me, girl, but you should know that i don't make any monstrosities. comfort may be a stretch, but you won't look hideous. and i'm offering you input, which is more than some others are getting right now." the ones apparently stuck on the tribute center.

#eventideevent04 #eventidepast #burn tw #scar tw

"Watch your language, Domitila," she parrots the words thrown at her just a handful of days ago back at the stylist. Maybe she was playing with fire. She didn't really care. There were many things on her mind, poking at an angry stylist was just distracting her from any number of them. "But fine!" She holds up her hands in an exaggerated show of mock surrender. "I already said to do magenta. Surely that color's not claimed by the rebels too. If it is then fuck if I know, go with lime or highlighter yellow or any other color bright enough to melt your eyeballs. I just need to know so I can go get my nails done. Again." And she looked at her current set, red and black apparently wouldn't do, and sighed. It was such a mundane thing, getting her nails done, and it had no place in their current world. Again, however, not something she cared much to ponder.

pondering her next trip to the salon is interrupted by domi's suggestion she see a doctor for her shortness. A look od disgust crosses her face as if that is the most horrific thing she can think of. "Eww. No thank you. That's what heels are for." And she had quite the collection in her personal closet, both at home in Two and in the capitol at her apartment. She heaved a sigh, long, heavy and dramatic as was her usual. "Fine, not like I have much choice anyway. What else do you need input on then? Magenta, shorts are fine. Or a short dress." She knew that Domi probably didn't need her input on anything, but she hadn't completely let go of the petulant attitude. Poking the bear and all. "Though, anything short's gonna show off scars." She'd fought the Capitol doctors to leave her leg be, reveled in the reminder of how she'd won her games despite the fact her right leg had been barely functional because of the burns she'd sustained and the resulting attention the remaining scarring brought. There were many a sponsor who would sit and listen as she regaled them once more with the story of her victory.

[Caesar, propo] The rebels love to talk about a divide, as though our great country wasn't firmly unified prior to the Quell. You've spent a lot of time within The Capitol. Have you ever felt like an outsider here?

"Oh heavens no, Caesar, I don't know what these rebels are on about," she chimes with a brilliant smile crossing her face. "Ever since I first stepped foot in this glorious city everyone here has made me feel nothing but welcome. It's honestly so refreshing and relieving when there was always..." she pauses, tilting her head a bit side to side as if trying to choose exactly what to say or even if she should say it, "a bit of animosity towards me from a few of my fellow victors from home." Of course maybe she'd fueled some of that animosity, never even contemplating forgiving Cadie for killing Nero, or trying to make nice with Brutus. But they'd both started it in her opinion. "I don't think I'd be renting an apartment here in the Capitol if I ever felt left out or like an outsider. I love the Capitol and that's certain not to change."

#&caesar #&propo

In recent years Xio had always come across as dramatic to Cadence. Of course she was totally overlooking the many many ways that she too could be dramatic. Before now she would have said she'd earnt it in her games, but Xio was a victor now too. She supposed she could relate. A little. Maybe. She too had been excited, and quite eager, to get back to 2 when she'd won. She had wanted to see Clove. But Cadie was petty enough to overlook that, even if she would try to be a little helpful. Only because she knew it was what Thea and Brutus would want her to do.

Cadie could be quite possessive when she wanted to be. And she didn't really like sharing Domi. At first the designs had felt quite alien, but she'd developed a style now, and she trusted Domi with what she made for her. But Cadie knew she had to share her, so it was something she put up with. "She is." She murmured with a nod. "I was the first tribute that she styled actually. She started working for Team District 2 the year I won." They'd both been the newbies then. She supposed that was why she had a soft spot for the stylists when most of the time she couldn't stand anyone from the Capitol. "She's cool"

#&cadie #eventidepast #year: 69

She wondered why exactly Cadie was telling her that she'd been the first tribute this stylist had styled. Was she gloating? If so, why? It wasn't like Xiomara was attached to this Domitilia person, nor was she the most excited to have to continually be dressed by anyone from the Capitol. She didn't question Cadie's motives though, rather merely rolled her eyes. She had a good relationship with her stylist. Good for Cadie.

"Why's she cool?" She asked. "Other than you two being newbies together?" Okay so maybe she wasn't going to completely let it drop. "Does she like listen to what you want or something? Cause in my expierence, most of these people from the from around here are obnoxious." Too colorful and too cheerful. Xiomara could be a colorful person in her wardrobe, but that was it and she was most certainly not anywhere near as cheerful as most of these capitolites were.

thecapitolrogue

Open starter | @eventidestarters | The Capitol

Between Capitol strategy meetings and his own personal business, late nights were not uncommon for Kyan. He routinely worked well into the early hours, watching the clock creep up on midnight, and then past one, then onto two. Years ago this lack of work-life balance would have driven him insane, but now? He wouldn’t complain, not when there was real work to be done. And that’s how he found himself there now, walking the dimly lit halls of the tribute center as he found his way to the door and out onto the street.

The cool air embraced him as he stepped out into the night. Neon lights illuminated the sky, concealing the stars. It was quiet, almost peaceful, and Kyan allowed himself to relax for just a moment. He deserved it, after all; he had managed to smuggle that file out undetected, and even the smallest of victories deserved to be celebrated.

But the calm didn’t last long. Kyan rounded a corner, turning onto the next street, only to find himself face-to-face with this unfortunate soul. What business did they have wandering the city at this time of night? Didn’t they know it was dangerous? Kyan froze, doing his best to maintain his unbothered demeanor despite his surprise.

“What are you doing?” His tired voice had an edge. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for you to be hanging around here?”

Xiomara is on her way back to her flat. Another night spent out in the company of the rich of the Capitol. Too bad no one could find it in their good graces to at the very least have their driver take her home. Oh well, it wasn't like she minded walking home. At least not once she'd discarded the heels she'd worn out that night which were now hooked onto her fingers.

She hadn't expected to come across anyone. It was only a couple blocks from where she'd been to her own flat. But as it would seem, there would be one other on the streets at the time and she just had to happen across him. Her brow crinkled as did her nose, taking some form of affront from his comment.

"And are you my dad?" She snapped, though honestly she was less likely to listen to her father than just about anyone else on the planet. "If you must know, I was on my way home."

#&kyan

domitila would swear she hadn't, but she can't help the way one of her eyes tremble as she's caught on the bluff — well, sort of. she had sketches, but nothing really definite, nor anything particularly fitting to xiomara, as she hadn't been informed the victor would go up on stage with caesar again. "they are not ready," the stylist warns, cautious with her words, though she has the ever ready smile on her lips. "and they're in my little studio." the one room she kept her instruments, like the drawing board and the holos; she had better at her actual studio, but it's great for moments she's not feeling the ride to the other building. still, domitila stands up, urging xiomara to get to her feet and follow her, with a wave of her hand.

the walk is not a long one, not when domitila isn't in the mood to take the long way to show off all her art work in the walls. in no time, they are at the little studio, and the eldest is turning on the lights and moving towards a drawing table. she turns on the holo, that immediately lightens up the air above the table with clear, colorful images of her designs, a minor version but still rather large one of what the actual look would be. "because both colors imply something we should not act on right now." the stylist gives the other a look that is more severe, a rarity. after thea's interview, domitila was aware she should be more careful with what she put on the people being interviewed; no red, to allude of thea's blood probably spilled on some dark room, no black, because they have no reason to mourn the mentor (perhaps it is a hint of paranoia, for caesar would not be thick to poke at something like this, but better safe than sorry, in case someone more important than caesar decided to call her in).

"magenta." domitila repeats, as if savoring the word. "that will be wonderful, in fact." quickly she adds, the effulgence returning to her voice. lowers her eyes to go through the folders of sketches on the table, looking for something she had done just a few days ago — a long dress, enough to cover any bumps or bruises in any of the hostages' legs, but with a generous cleavage. the file is unnamed, so she can not exactly remember who it had been made for, but nevermind! with a pinch and a click, the dress turns from black and white to the color chosen by xiomara. "well, what do you mean by girly? would you rather no skirts?" a swipe of the finger erases the long skirt from the design. "i am partial to pants myself. but would you rather shorts?" domitila gives an analyzing look towards xiomara's legs.

#&domitila #eventideevent04 #torture tw #blood tw

Xiomara is sure she doesn't have much option but to follow Domi. If she didn't, she'd be left to sit in the woman's living room and quite possibly put in some flouncy disaster of crinolines and chiffon. She'd rather appear on stage in nothing but her lingerie than in some cupcake of a dress. So, out of the necessity, she pushes herself up from the chair and follows Domi. "I didn't know red and black were known rebel colors." Her tone is sarcastic as she moves through Domi's house. Black was classic, simple, timeless. It matches everything. And well... she's just gotten her nails redone. Oh well, she'll just have to go again once she knows what color Domi's going with.

She pauses in the doorway of the studio, watching as Domi flicks on lights and moves to a table. A design is put on display before the younger woman moves across the room, wanting a better look at the design. She watches quietly as Domi makes quick changes to the design, disappearing the skirt and changing the color. She catches the stylist judging her legs. "I can wear shorts." She's quick to assert. She may not be statuesque, but she was quiet pleased with all portions of her body, thank you very much.

Xiomara turns her attention back to the design on display. "Really I just don't want some flooffy, rufflely, monstrosity that swallows me up. I'm obviously not the tallest person in Panem." Not even close.

Cadence didn't quite catch what Xio had said, and she honestly did not care. She might have just been talking about District 2 being a family, but she wasn't sure if she really wanted Xio in it. It wasn't as if they had gotten along. Or well, recently anyway. Prior to Cadence winning her games they'd actually been friends, or at least as far as academy friends went anyway. That had all changed after she'd won her games by killing Xio's brother. She didn't regret it. If she hadn't she wouldn't be here to even consider regretting it. Cadie had done what she'd had to do to survive. Part of her wondered if Xio might understand that herself now, after having been in the games. But she very much doubted it.

"Eh. I dunno. Ask Selene" Cadie didn't exactly keep track of her own schedule, yet alone anyone else's. "She's the escort." She added onto the end, just in case Xio didn't know. Cadie could barely remember the escorts name now, 3 years later, yet alone a few weeks after meeting her. She tried to avoid her as much as she could. She was far too happy and bubbly for her liking. Stylists though, she could stand a little better. "Maybe?" She mused, with a shrug. She really could not care less. She also had no idea who had even styled Xio before the games. "If you're lucky you might get Domi. She's pretty great. For someone from the Capitol anyway."

#eventidepast #&cadie #death tw #killing tw #year 69

She can't help but to roll her eyes. All she was getting was 'I don't know's and 'Maybe's. Did Cadence know anything? She sat her glass back on the coffee table and sighed dramatically as she dropped onto the couch, unceremoniously. She'd really rather be on her way home than have to deal with any of this, not that she'd bring that particular want up, especially when it revolved around getting back home to Aléjandra.

"Is she your stylist?" She questioned, casting a look over Cadie's outfit of the day. It wasn't bad, but definitely not anything Xio would want to wear herself. She wasn't even sure what her own style was, but the dresses and colors she'd been put in this far were certainly not of liking.

If she was honest Cadence hadn't actually wanted to be in the Capitol at all for these games. In her opinion Pena children made for boring games. Of course, her games had been quite interesting. But she was under the cocky impression that that was because of herself. Cadie had had to come to the games though. She was the latest victor from 2, and well that made her useful. Though, she was secretly glad that Xio could now take on that role. Whilst Cadie enjoyed the parties, and the lifestyle that being a desirable victor gave her, she resented the darker side of it. And she wasn't ashamed to hope it might lessen a little now.

"The Victors in Two are a family." Or well, most of them were. She would never consider Xio her family, even if they got over this tension between them. "We come here together. We leave together." And to be honest, whilst she was keen to go home, there was always another party to go too. She did want to go home. She missed her little sister. But the Capitol was fun too.

"You gotta be crowned first." They'd probably make a big spectacle of it. They always did. "Then some interviews." Which were glorious. Cadie couldn't think of anything worse. "Then home."

#&cadie #eventidepast #year - 69

"Some family," she muttered. Not that she had the best family life to compare too, but she'd been left alone for ten days as far as she knew. If it'd been her family she'd have been to visit at least once. Her brothers would've been there every damn day, if they were still alive and had been in the Capitol. Instead she stood across from one of their killers being as civil as she knew how to be.

She sighed and then pushed off the door frame to her room. "Great when do we get to get that show on the road?" She questioned, moving across the district two floor and towards where an avox had left a pitcher of ice water on the coffee table. She poured herself a glass and took a sip of it before turning her attention back to Cadie. "Do I still have the same stylist, or like do I get any say in what I wear?" She was already tired of being someone else's doll, would she be afforded any independence in how she was presented now that she'd won?

she's calloused after years of dealing with the rough around the edges type from two, so the stylist just gives that tiny being a roll of the eyes. "and here i thought i was receiving a social visit." she wouldn't admit she does miss having the victors around because, by now, this may as well be treason as well when one part of them is dead, the other are traitors and the remaining one in the city is this one. "who knows, maybe she will become a stylist one day." far from her to be the motherly kind, but the girl is living under her roof, so she can notice and pick up on what she is doing.

domitila is not one for teas (the taste of herbs is disgusting), but she tells the avox to get early grey ready for their guest, before they put down a tray of tiny sandwiches. the stylist joins the victor on one of the seats then, raising her eyebrows in genuine curiosity, though that is laced with some skepticism. had xiomara finally realized domitila is the best one between the two stylists assigned to two? of course, it's an overdue fact that she clings on even as the girl mentions that she is basically following orders (people from two can be pretty good at that). not one for political plotting, she can see that maybe after thea's interview they will be in need for someone charismatic from district two to keep that district in order. "i have some sketches, darling," she doesn't. "but i do love some input from the model. tell me, did you envision any palettes? let's not do black." there's nothing to mourn, right? "and maybe not red either."

#&domitila #eventideevent04

She lets her gaze wander, following the avox away as they scurry off. Her gaze only returns to Domi once more as the woman speaks. So she does have sketches. So then Domi had known she was going to be interviewed. "Can I see?" She questioned a moment later, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "the sketches I mean."

She ponders Domi's question a moment. No black or red? Those two colors probably made up eighty percent of Xio's closet. "And why not red or black?" She sighs heavily, perhaps a little dramatically. She's never been one to shy from dramatics, even if it is only a little sigh of disappointment. She mulls the question over for another second, turning her hand over to look at her nails as she does so. "Fine, if not red or black," she rolls her eyes, "then what about like magenta." The twenty percent of her wardrobe not taken up by red and black are made up of the brightest shades of colors. "I do look fabulous in bright colors if I do say so myself. And please.... nothing too girly." As if she hadn't just asked for one of the brightest shades of pink.

Cadence was feeling conflicted. Whilst she should have been thrilled that District 2 had another Victor, and another female one at that. But there had always been a sense of tension between Xio and herself. Of course that was not to be surprised. Not when she had killed the other's brother. Cadie didn't regret it. She wouldn't be standing here to feel conflicted if hadn't done it. Cadie had simply done what she had needed to do to survive. That didn't mean that during this games she had wanted Xio to die. She never wanted any of their tributes to die. It just would have been less tense, and less awkward if it had been the male tribute that had won.

She was surprised that Xio had even spoken to her. But Cadie wasn't one to be rude, not all the time anyway. And it wasn't like anyone else was here. "Not really a surprise. I saw it happen on the screen." The brunette mused with a shrug. It had actually been quite an interesting games. Though she wouldn't let Xio know that. "At least you're finally out the hospital. Now we might actually be able to go home." Cadie was ready to go home. She always hated when she had to leave Clove for too long.

Xiomara rolled her eyes at Cadie's remark. Of course she'd seen it on the television. She'd had thought maybe they'd all missed it, maybe the live feed had cut out or something by the lack of visitors while she was in the hospital had she not seen her own face splashed across the television multiple times since. The news castings and recaps made her almost smug, a feeling of triumph in succeeding in what five before her had failed to do. But then she was faced with the fact that five of her siblings had not been there to feel smug or triumphant. Five of them were dead.

"Coulda already gone home," she didn't know how that all worked. "Not like you wanted to wait around for me." She moved away from her room now, passing Cadie as she went to retrieve a glass of water. In all honesty, she wanted to go home too. Alejandra had no doubt suffered in the weeks she'd been gone. Just because the games were on didn't mean the remaining Pena child at home had gotten any rest. It'd never been that way before. Sure they'd been made to watch their siblings' games, but they'd continued training as well. It never mattered that a sibling might die at any second, at least not in her parents' eyes.

"So when do we get to go home then?" Her tone is still biting, refusing to let the longing of home to seep into her voice.

#&cadie #eventidepast

Xio: [Snow] I've been informed that she is well. It must be a weight lifted off your shoulders, my dear. Wouldn't it be awful had something happened to her?

The relief is written across her face despite any attempt on her part to keep her exterior neutral. Aléjandra is safe, as far as the president knows, and who would lie to him? The rebels, but surely he wasn't listening to them. Though it's not the same as having her sister here with her. Each minute was something different. Right this minute Aléjandra could be okay and the next could spell disaster. Hopefully, her sister would keep herself at home and keep her nose out of it all.

"That really is a weight off my shoulders," she agrees, "a huge relief. I would simply be devastated if something were to happen to her. I do hope that District Two has been cleaned of rebels after the victors purge." Though she hoped the rebels wouldn't target Two for their closeness to the Capitol.

#&snow #eventideevent04

domitila has been entitled enough to have the privilege to only work with things that excited her. yes, there was the odd tribute or victor that wasn't very inspiring, but at the end of the day, there were some half a dozen more for her to occupy herself — if that turned out to not be true, then she'd simply give up and take a break. it happened once, a decade or so ago, but then she had been contacted to join the games' stylist team and all that was forgotten. now, however, she can't give up, nor take a break nor can she even appear negative about it. how can she, when there are stylists imprisoned, a reminder that even capitol can be punished if they do not walk the line? of course, that mood doesn't make for very enticing work, and the proof is in the insipid design she had sketched.

she is almost thankful for an intermission. one of her avoxes goes to fetch the door, but she follows to the foyer anyways, raising her eyebrows at the intrusion; for a moment, she feels a cool down her spine at the thought that this could be the time she would be dragged to some cells, tortured beyond her wits, but the voice that she hears is, for once, comforting, easing her nerves enough for her to let out a sigh. "let her in," the stylist waves a hand to the avox, giving permission for the tiny woman to walk in. "xiomara." the oldest goes to greet the girl, as her avox scurries away, hopefully preparing something for the girl (she may be an unfamiliar visitor, but domitila has been taught to always offer good service for visitors). "are you sure it's me you're searching for, and not your friend?" the last they spoke, it seemed as if the two of them made it clear that they were not the best of friends, but calista always has a nice word to offer about the last free victor from district two. "what do you drink?" she remembers to check, as she guides the girl to her unnecessarily large living room. there are all sort of furniture around, none of which domitila herself ever uses, unless she's receptioning. "come now, sit and talk."