The Ball had continued to an apex. The music had created a beat that made the dresses spin and swirl around the suits and costumes that littered the dance floor. Lysetta had been dancing, letting her dress flare out and around the partners she had chosen. The smile that she had worn as her feet and hips moved across the wood was still plastered on her face as she sat at the bar, her feet curled around the metal bar. She leaned across the bar and asked the bartender for another whiskey on the rocks.
Her eyes wandered as the bartender mixed the drink and she found her eyes settling on a group of people in uproariously laughing together. Lysetta saw a flit of a face in the group, a face that sparked a flood of emotions. She stared at the group, waiting for another glimpse to be sure that it was her sister she saw and not a reflection of the couple of drinks she had had that night.
The bartender broke her trance, tapping her on the shoulder and murmuring “Your drink, miss.” Lysetta bowed her head in thanks and turned back to the group of people she had been eyeing.
Her drink slowly emptied as she kept her eyes on that group, hoping to see Nia’s face again. The group dispersed as her last drop of whiskey fell down her throat. Lysetta shifted in her seat and waited to see her sister all grown up. Lysetta stared at her and waved hoping that her sister would feel her and look at her.
The Capitol balls had never been anything too exciting for Zephonia, merely an unfortunate necessity of her job. She thought the whole thing was rather pointless. The Victor was already being celebrated across the nation, especially being one of only two people to ever win the Games twice. It was quite the feat, and though Nia had been secretly rooting for the girl from District Eight, Kahente? Was that her name? It hardly mattered now.
She made her rounds through the ballroom, talking sporadically to people she recognised, just wishing she was back in her lab working on prototypes for the next Games. The theme had yet to be formally announced, but Nia was already buzzing with excitement. Maybe that and the fizzy drink she’d just consumed. Alcohol numbed the senses and dulled the mind, something she would be happy to never indulge in.
Finding a group of her fellow Gamemakers, Zephonia joined into their conversation keenly. These were people she actually understood. They spoke the same language as her, one of deadlines and code, mutts and mechanics. A joke about a malfunctioning mutt from a couple of Games caused the group to break out into laughter, Zephonia included. Managing to calm herself, Nia excused herself from the group as they dispersed. It was important for the Gamemakers not to appear cliquey, people didn’t react well to that.
Zephonia didn’t notice the woman waving at her, though she did see the movement out of the corner of her eye. She’d already spoken to all of her friends at the event, so she assumed the wave was for someone else, and promptly ignored it. It would be frightfully embarrassing to react to a wave intended for someone else. She made her way over to the bar, ignoring the unease that had suddenly settled in her gut. “Just a soda, please.” She asked the avox behind the bar with a broad smile.
