"I'm a liability." - Liability by Lorde
A Song for Snakes and Rats - The 41st Annual Hunger Games
Stylist for the District 8 Female, Euphorba
Prologue Part 1
Andreas struts into the room, violet curls bouncing. I want to inform him that violet is not an acceptable color for locks anymore. It's simply downscale now, sadly. Well—I give Andreas another look over, studying his dark hair and pasty skin—maybe it's not so sad for Andreas. Violet isn't everyone's color. And by everyone, I mean him specifically. The little plum.
"You have a visitor?" Andreas says.
I look up from my costume design. This year I've constructed a dress out of gold tissues (a specialty order from a friend, mind you) and silver cloth that's spun of the richest silk.
"Who?" I ask. I shouldn't be expecting visitors at this time.
"I don't know. Didn't ask." Andreas tilts his head, curls popping to the left. He glances at the fringe of the dress. "I don't think this is going to go how you expect." He steps closer and I'm tempted to growl at him like some feral animal. "It resembles the making of glorified toilet paper holder."
I look at the dress, appalled. How dare Andreas question my designs? He's barely out of the University himself. And I saw what he did last year with his tribute, Harland Adary, which was nothing special, nothing like I did for my dearest Shenille Soimoi. Rest her shy soul. I think back to the where I was when I witnessed her getting speared. I'd nearly choked on my mimosa by the pool. Andreas had insisted we go for a light sunning. I hadn't seen the point, really, since I can dye my skin to whatever hue pleases me. But he mentioned alcohol and there isn't an occasion where I say no to a good drink. Even if it's having to deal with Andreas and his outdated looks and bland sophistication.
"Euphorba," Andreas continues. "I'm letting him in." He starts to walk away. "I'm not your secretary, you know. Stop sending your visitors to my quarters."
I laugh. "Honey, I don't send anyone to your quarters." He glares at me and I simply let out a light cough. "Seems they know your reputation." He steps closer, but I'm turning back to the fringe of the dress, which could use work, I suppose. "About the open door policy you have. Who knows."
"Says the woman who couldn't keep her hands off her last assistant," he retorts. "Should I say Hektor?"
"Oh, go to hell," I spit. How dare he bring up Hektor with his death anniversary approaching? The insensitivity, I think. The callousness. Even I'm not that rude, despite what rumors insist.
"Will you be there?" Andreas shoots back.
"No," I spit back.
"Good," he says. "Then I'll take a reservation for two."
"In hell?" I laugh. Stupid ass, Andreas.
"Why not?" he says. "I'd hate to be lonely for all eternity."
"I'm sure you'll have many friends there," I say back.
"I'm sure you'll have friends there, too," he says, turning to walk away. "Hektor, Jupiter, Shenille . . ."
"Get out!" I spit.
The sound of his clicking heels tap off the floor before the door slams. I look down for a moment, only to hear the door reopen again. What does he not understand? Did he not attend University?
"I told you to get out!" I say, not bothering to look up. "You self absorbed looking plum of a man!"
"Excuse me." The voice does not belong to Andreas. I look back up to find man, dark skinned and rather burly. We stare at each other. Then he continues, voice measured. "Miss Euphorba Evie, may I have a moment of your time?"
"Of course," I say. Because I can easily spare a moment.
He gestures for me to stand. I look at him, confused. Does he expect me to walk? My eyes flicker down to my heels. Six inches aren't for walking, sweetie. They're sitting, and I hadn't planned to walk anywhere besides to the cab downstairs after I call it.
"Will you?" he asks again.
"Do you mind if I sit?" I ask, not wanting to leave the office. The man moves his hand to his hip, and I have flash backs of Hektor. Strangely, I think more about his abs and what a shame I haven't visited them in over a year. I don't know what I miss most. Hektor's personality or simply his body. . .Call me cold for missing the warmth.
He walks closer and voice rather direct. "Miss, I need you to come with me."
"You said this would only take a moment of my time."
"I was being polite."
"Oh," I say.
He gestures for me to stand again. "Can we?"
I stay seated. When you're a survivor like myself, you can't be too careful of strangers anymore.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"I'll answer your questions soon," he says. "After we're more relaxed."
"I'm quite relaxed now."
The man groans. "I'd hoped you read between the lines, Miss Euphorba." He pulls back his jacket, revealing the silver polished gun. My mouth instantly dries. I just think of the chains. Of Jupiter begging. Of myself being sprayed with warm blood. My hands shake uncontrollably as I stand up. I try to remain, calm, cool, in control. But as I push in my chair all I can think about is OGRE.
"Of course," I say, head nodding to the gun. Understanding, he tucks the jacket back over to conceal it. "Let me grab my coat and we'll be right off."
A/N: Here we are. My second SYOT. I couldn't stop myself. This one is gonna follow the same format as A Poem of Swine and Wrath.
Form is on my profile. My only request is that you don't submit to the same spot you submitted to in A Poem of Swine and Wrath. For example, if you submitted to the D1 Male spot, please allow someone else to have that spot in this story. Cool? Cool?
By popular demand Euphorba is back. And as Katie and a few others call it, Shrek is here, too. And you thought I was resolving that plot with Harland and Shenille? Hmm..Gotcha. Nope.
Arena ideas? The one I like most will be the arena in this story.
Has anyone read the new HG Book? I'm reading it now. Dark stuff. dang, collins.
~prayers for peace and protection. see you all soon~