Desire Lines

You were insatiable, I was more than capable, and you fought in my corner, would you do it again?

[dorsett-jacobsen]

Sinking Like A Stone // dorsett and valor

[dorsett-jacobsen]

The twinkling lights of the Capitol provided a wonderful lull against Dorsett’s eyes. He was completely entranced until a voice called out, startling him. He jumped visibly and whipped around. 

A tall blonde woman had joined him on the roof. With the immediate threat gone, Dorsett relaxed. A small, embarrassed smile found it’s way to his lips. He shook his head at her question.

"That scoundrel, for sure. He’s been evading me all week. I don’t know why he won’t give me a chance. I’m sure I fulfill him." Dorsett stretched an arm out across the back of the bench and felt the stress of the evening in his shoulder. He jabbed a finger into the socket and wrestled with the knot.

"How about you, darling? Are you here because of sleep or sunrise?"

[valor-sinclair-blog]

Lips curving, Valor gave a slight laugh at the man's humor. Her mind was still fuzzy, slow and in flux, but that was only to be expected from its lack of nourishment. Food for thought, it appeared, was spread unpleasantly thin throughout her neurons.

Green eyes scanned the horizon, watching empty tableaux fill and be filled. A child slept, warm in its bed, while an avox dreamed of a heart that fed. Valor wondered where she'd fallen through the cracks.

The Capitol, in her eyes, was misleading: its lights glowed warmer than a thousand suns, yet burned colder than the sharpest snow storm. If anyone was proof that looks could be deceiving, it was Valor, but she hadn't preempted the depth of the cold. If beauty was a temptress then the Capitol knew her well.

Turning her attention towards the other Victor, Valor shrugged, eyes widening as she noticed the sun peeking over the skyline. "Both, I guess. I'm still trying to acclimate to this whole 'mentor' thing, you know? I wish I knew how long it was going to take."

[valor-sinclair-blog]

Chameleon || Valor & Asher

[asher-j-hawthorne]

Asher buttoned his shirt quickly, tucking in the tails into his still unzipped pants. The third client of the night had left the small guest room a few minutes ago, leaving him to collect himself.

And the generous tip on the nightstand.

He rarely got hired out to parties like this, but in light of his recent subversive activities against Snow he wasn’t exactly surprised. They were a common occurrence in his younger days as the Capitol’s whore, and now as punishment for his affair with Lynx he was having to revert to this slightly more degrading business. The hostess essentially rented him at a discount fare and allowed whomever to use him as they pleased, each customer leaving him tips. It was a far less subtle method, and there were times he didn’t even have time to put his clothes back on between clients.

Now was not going to be such a time. He needed air.

He threw his jacket back on, not bothering with the tie before making his escape. He slid out of the bedroom and slithered through the mob of glittering Capitolites. There were plates of food and booze floating around on Avoxes’ fingertips through the throng, helping his constant movement look less conspicuous.

As he made for the porch, he passed the hostess talking with one of the guests. Momentary panic spread through him; some of the people that rented him for parties like these demanded that he not leave the room. But she didn’t seem to notice; she was too involved in maintaining false humility for throwing the gaudy party. The other woman mentioned something about the host’s taste being “exquisite,” making her stumble a bit. But the other stuck her finger to the host’s lips as if to quiet her.

Asher stifled a snort. He had no idea if this woman were drunk or simply as over this party as he was, but either way he was impressed.

He finally made it to the porch, glad to feel the crisp breeze on his skin. The room he had been stuck in was humid with human sweat, and he needed to feel at least some of the remnants of his deeds get blown away by the cool night air.

Out for a smoke break?

It was the sassy woman from inside.

It’s an awfully nice night for one. So, how’s the party treating you?

“Thanks but I don’t smoke. And it’s uh…well it’s a party. Such a great party that I couldn’t wait to get outside.”

[valor-sinclair-blog]

Recognition lit sparks Valor's eyes, but she doused them as soon as they'd sprung up. Asher Hawthorne. The man was a Victor, much like herself, but he'd been mentoring for a while now too. How good he was, she didn't know, but she reckoned she'd figure out soon.

Living up to his playboy reputation, Asher looked hurriedly dressed, but lacked the telltale after sex glow. Instead he just looked...fed up. Valor sighed, tucking the thought into her pocket for later. Gingerly, she leaned herself over the railing, back arching as she did so. A trail of smoke trickled out of her lungs, dissolving into the night air. If only the past could evaporate so easily. Her shoulders moved in a near imperceptible transit, turning as she tilted her head up towards Asher. Her eyes met his, but didn't flinch. Instead, they looked staunchly on, daring him to look back at their depths.

“Thanks but I don’t smoke. And it’s uh…well it’s a party. Such a great party that I couldn’t wait to get outside.”

"I know that feeling," she replied, shooting him a conspiratorial wink. She stubbed her cigarette on the railing, blowing the ashes off the edge of the porch. "Do you go to a lot of them? Parties, I mean. They get awfully redundant when your life consists of them." Valor laughed, playing off her comment as a joke. There was truth to it, more than she'd like to admit, but now wasn't the time to get lost in the details.

A droplet fell on Valor's hand, then another, and another. Soon a light drizzle had formed. "Do you mind the rain?" She inquired, looking up towards the clouds. "I rather enjoy it." As soon as the sentence had slipped her mouth, a large clap of thunder ripped through the sky. Chills ran up her spine, and she couldn't help pale at the sound of it.

Freak storms. They were one of many gimmicks that'd taken place in her games, but the only she'd ever truly got caught in. Besides, Valor had been terrified of storms since before she could talk. Shivering, she turned towards her companion, pupils dilated in fear. "It all sounds pretty close, doesn't it?" Another clap of thunder left her thoroughly freaked, but she did all she could to remain calm. Storms had been insufferable her first few years out of the games, but she'd had time to recover and heal.

"Do you want to head inside?" She offered, looking over towards the door. The Capitolites hadn't noticed the weather change, but she supposed that was to be expected. It was hard for them to see past their surgically enhanced noses.

[dorsett-jacobsen]

Sinking Like A Stone // dorsett and valor

A clock blinked a bright, angry “4:16 a.m.” in Dorsett’s face as he pulled the covers closer around his body. A small pillow was clutched in his arms, providing no comfort against the dark. His eyes shut for a moment, but were torn open again as horrid memories of his Games crashed into them.

The pillow couldn’t substitute a person. Dorsett kicked the covers off the bed and swung his legs over the edge, feeling the soft plush carpet under his feet. With a resigned sigh, he heaved himself up and grabbed a robe off a chair. He pulled it tight around his body and approached his minibar.

As he poured himself a small glass of vodka and Sprite, Dorsett considered the term “alcoholic.” Surely drinking at a quarter past four in the morning would qualify him as one. He swirled the drink around for a moment before throwing it down his throat. No. Alcoholics used alcohol to fall asleep, and he certainly wasn’t going to be getting any sleep tonight.

Dorsett walked through the sliding doors of his room into the hallway and made a familiar path to an elevator. The roof, even with its force field, provided a beautiful overlook of the detestable Capitol. 

Upon arriving, Dorsett took a long breath of the crisp air. The stars twinkled above the city lights, and for a brief moment, Dorsett’s lips twitched upward. It was almost peaceful on the room. He took a seat on a bench, willing the sun to rise more quickly.

[valor-sinclair-blog]

Maybe light fell because heaven gave up. Because night was a sin so imbued in her skin that God fucking shook. With four four a.m.s and no sleep to show for it, Valor couldn't help but feel violated. If anything, sleep was a right, and she felt entitled to some form of reprieve. So why did it continue to elude her?

Disgruntled, the newly christened Mentor rolled out of her bed, unable to stay still for much longer. As she stood, her foot grazed a shard from the night before, cutting, drawing. It left little more than a paper cut, but the damage had been done. Her mouth breathed a curse word, then another. Soon, the Navy had spilled from her lips, floating, swimming, drowning. How predictable it was for her to have murdered.

Sighing, the Victor stuck a band-aid over her cut, hiding away her imperfection. God forbid someone find she was only flesh and bone. Smirking, Valor let her eyes wash over the room, paying heed to unpacked suitcases and piles of unwashed clothes. She'd been there for a couple of days, but couldn't find it within herself to settle. The games always left her uneasy, after all.

Pulling a large shirt over her head, Valor looked out her window, marveling at how close the sun was to rising. She hadn't seen a sunrise in a long time, though she'd had plenty of opportunities. "Why not make the most of it?" She thought, in a half-hearted effort to seize the morning. Two feet stepped into the elevator in her hallway, and before she knew it she had reached the roof.

"Hello?" She called out, seeing another figure up before her. Realizing she'd reached the point of no return, she repeated her first question as a statement, sealing the deal in flashing the man a warm, albeit sleep-deprived smile. "Have you come to see the sunrise?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow as she made her way towards his bench. "Or has that scoundrel known as sleep just happened to elude you too?"

[amethyst-alkali]

Whoredom and wine and new wine take away the heart| Amethyst and Valor

As we close in on the two year anniversary of the murder of Jade Alkali, District One is wondering if the case against Amethyst is moving forward at all. The debate over the Victor’s guilt is a hot topic not only in the District, but in the Capitol as well. Alkali has been residing there since her Victory in the 74th Games, and from what we can gather, she had been rather reclusive.

Well, if you ask me the girl is a Victor. She deserves our praise and affection. Besides there is no real proof that she killed her sister.

Oh, Larrings, you are so naive! Of course she did, you saw the end of those Games. She all but confessed when she killed Laexus.

I don’t know. The Games can bring out rather abrasive sides in people. She is a valiant winner. She deserves our re—

The projected news feed turned off, returning her wall to its naturally white state. Amethyst grabbed a new bottle of vodka as she rocketed through the door, leaving it swinging behind her. Yes, leaving it open was an open invitation for intruders, but she could not have cared less.

She stalked down the stairwell, uncapping the liquor and taking a swig. Before last year she had never tasted the stuff, but now it was a necessary part of her day. 

The newscasters’ words reverberated in her head, and she slid down onto one of the stairs, letting the previous bottles take their toll on her. 

The trial was to begin soon, and her life to end. All she had wanted was the Victor’s crown, and now she had it.

But what else?

[valor-sinclair-blog]

The paintings had all been dull. With a cubist rebirth sweeping the Capitol, artists couldn't help but try to stand out.  Their voices screamed of desperation, of attempted desire, but their songs were so empty it hurt. What had they been shooting for? Coloratura? If anything, they'd managed a shrill tenor, castrated from the brutality they'd seen on their screens. The Capitol knew much about geometry, but was lacking in the department of viewpoints. Its lens was too singular to see anything at all. Darting out of the gallery, Valor felt a strange feeling wash over her. She couldn't quite put a name to it, but it was heavy, immeasurably so. The last thing she wanted was to do was go home, so she wandered until she had reached a hotel. Letting her gaze wash over the lobby, the woman was met with a feeling of comfort. She found contentment in the viewing of vignettes, always had, always would. It was considered an art form to her. Noticing a figure capsized on the stairs, Valor moved closer, wondering what to make of the sight. "Amethyst?" She inquired, voice tilting in surprise. The victor was a member of her district, and a hot topic in the news. Though risky to be seen with her, Valor was too curious to walk away, so stayed, taking a seat next to the girl. "What are you doing here?" She asked, concern in her voice. "And alone of all things?"

[valor-sinclair-blog]

Chameleon || Valor & OPEN

The sea of colors ebbed and flowed, predictably, per usual. There were no sights to behold, just swarms and swarms of inadvertent exhibitionists. If there was anything capitolites were good at, it was making fools of themselves. With shot glasses in hand, they crashed through the hallways, red-faced from almost toxic levels of alcohol consumption. Valor sipped from her own champagne glass, marveling at the atrocity before her. Obscene was one word to describe it, tasteless, another. Either way, she couldn't wait to slip out for some air. "What do you think of the party?" A voice called, and Valor smiled in return. "It's magnificent," she gushed, laying a light hand on the hostess' arm. She wasn't supposed to know who'd thrown the party (the invitations had declared an anonymous host), but the framed picture in the bathroom was a dead giveaway. "Really?" The hostess repeated, snapping Valor out of her thoughts. "But of course," she replied, "your taste is exquisite."

The two conversed for a while, until the hostess realized what Valor had said. "How did you--" she began, but Valor held a finger to woman's lips. "It'll be our little secret," she replied, winking. With that, she took her her leave, sashaying away without so much as a glance behind her. The crowds engulfed her, camouflaging her in plain sight, before disappearing her completely to the world. She mirrored their movements like a chameleon, using body language to assimilate. It was easy, really, showing them what they wanted. She was visibly invisible, a transparent enigma. She was all and nothing wrapped in one. Eventually, the victor reached a porch, glad to see it was empty. She deftly lit a cigarette, turning when she heard a sound behind her. "Out for a smoke break?" She inquired, smiling lightly. "It's an awfully nice night for one. So, how's the party treating you?"

[erinroses]