Opportunities for Eternity // closed; south

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

life is bigger, it's bigger than you, and you are not me
the lengths that I will go to

Maverick loved the city circle. Its life and vibrancy spoke to him, and every day brought something new. Sometimes it was simply a dramatic exchange, but whenever the Games were afoot, vendors pedaled their wares beneath the flashing screens. He made it a point to be out and about among the populace as much as possible, rain or shine. Today was no exception. He spoke with every third vendor, and smiled politely at the others. It was a very methodical approach, but Maverick always operated better with a plan, much to the contrary of his name.

He was also frugal. None of the wares quite tempted him enough to draw out any negotiations, but his charm smoothed over this fact. In fact he rather thought himself as the entertainment, a break in a string of customers. He would greet, and joke, and share just a bit of gossip before moving on. Of course it was always better if the other citizen offered a piece or two of gossip themselves, to fill out his figurative coffers. But then, some days people just didn't want to cooperate, and Maverick wasn't the type to force his hand early.

He finished up a rather mundane conversation with a dye vendor when a flash of spun gold caught his eye. He tipped his head politely to the dyer, and then looked over his shoulder. Truly no one could look at her and not be awed by the shock of hair running the length of her body. Maverick had seen her before but never had an occasion to speak with her. Not that he had much of an excuse now, except that she was a pretty girl, and he was a confident young bloke.

Maverick checked himself, drawing his spine up straight and ducking his chin so as to appear more humble. Only then did he step within arm's reach of Rapunzel. "Found anything you like?" He opened with a soft smile, eyes darting between her face and an array of flowers set on a table beside them.

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FOUND BY AYA - RIDDLE STILL OPEN

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Why do I love Easter?

[Deleted]

She lives in a fairytale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of a world that she's left behind

Zell had never really been one to frequent the City Circle since it was such a long walk from her apartment, but on market days like this one she'd splurge for a cab and do a bit of shopping, even though most of her income was eaten up by her self-founded fund for a better apartment that was close to if not directly on Style Street. Of course, the rent for such a dwelling was bound to be high, not easily payable by a stylist's apprentice that kept food on the table by working for hourly wages at a fabric shop and getting the occasional bonus from commission work designing outfits for Capitolites who didn't want to pay for a professional. Still, artists needed their tools, and Zell found that the wares to be had from the carts in the City Circle were usually far cheaper and sometimes of higher quality than what could be found at various art stores.

She'd already spent a good amount of time buying various drawing utensils, and her messenger bag was now heavy with watercolor pencils and charcoal. Currently, Zell stood over a wide variety of sketch pads, full lips pursed in speculation as immaculately-manicured fingers brushed carefully over the bindings. It was a slightly windy day, and the Spring breeze sent the skirt of her sundress rippling around her legs in addition to tossing the massive expanse of her hair every which way. She'd never really bothered to measure the golden tresses, but at her diminutive five-foot-nothing height the well cared-for waves brushed the back of her ankles, leading her to assume that when straightened, her hair was actually longer than she was tall. Zell personally found it to be a nuisance but refrained from cutting it both for fear of the absolute conniption her mother would have and from a slight phobia of haircuts that came from never having one. Blowing a strand away from her face irritably, the petite blonde launched herself into a short struggle to tame the wind-tossed locks into some semblance of order, failing miserably before giving up altogether and going back to her examination of the sketch pads.

"Found anything you like?" the charismatic baritenor tones were unexpected, causing Zell to give a little jump before turning to search for the voice's source. She found it in the form of a dark-haired young man with magnetic eyes and sharp features, offset by a quietly brilliant smile. He was well-dressed, too, she noted (because really, she noticed that clothes, she always noticed the clothes), seeming to be one of those smooth, successful young-adult types that she'd always tried to be. Despite a lifetime of her mother's warnings about ne'er-do-wells and vagabonds that would steal your heart if not your wallet, Zell replied to his question with a scintillating grin of her own, her wide, surgically-crafted magenta eyes glinting in the sunlight.

"Not too much yet," she smiled, gesturing to the table she had been looking at. "Just looking for a new sketch pad. How about you?"

[/blockquote][/size]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

life is bigger, it's bigger than you, and you are not me
the lengths that I will go to

That grin, the way it spread across the face and opened up her rosebud lips - Maverick knew he'd made the right choice. Now the trick would be keeping some of his aces up his sleeve. His smile opened just a bit more, showing off his rows of artificially white teeth. He found her smile, which in some ways mirrored his own, to be far more captivating than her eyes, although they gave much more of an insight her wealth, status, desires and achievements. Still, the curve of her lips...

"Sketch pad?" Maverick echoed in response, brow furrowing despite the fact that his smile never budged. This, of course, was an oft practiced move. "That's a pretty unusual thing to want. Do you mind if I ask what it's for?" This was perfect. This was the sort of opportunity he needed - to be able to interview someone on the spot, so casually that they never saw it coming. He felt almost indebted to Zell for making things so easy on him.

He appraised her more seriously now, looking down her arms to her hands, taking in her petite height and trying to look past the distractions of her hair, eyes and lips. He wasn't quite as successful as someone more disciplined might have been, but he saw now that she didn't quite have the carefree look of the most wealth Capitolites; instead she looked like she had a purpose, a reason to be in the city circle.

And now, of course, he needed a good reason, too. Except he didn't have one. So, instead, he shrugged and turned so that he could lean against a lamp post, his shoulder set against it, his body weight sitting in his hips so that he stood at a gentle angle. "Just enjoying this beautiful day," he offered, which was partially true. It had been rather pleasant out as of late, but he wasn't quite the type to just soak up the rays. He kept his gaze intensely on her, gaging her reaction to him. He was quite sure he didn't want to scare her off, but Maverick hadn't made up his mind about how exactly he wanted this interaction to play out. It all depended on her.

banner credit: codi-tastic
lyrics:r.e.m. losing my religion

[Deleted]

She lives in a fairytale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of a world that she's left behind

"Oh, I need one for work," Zell replied brightly, flinging open her messenger bag and pulling out a thick leather portfolio from its depths. It was one of her newer volumes, packed full of assignments that Lana had given her to push the envelope of her boundless creativity. Zell wasn't an overly-vain person (at least not by Capitol standards), but she took a great deal of pride in her work, a fact exemplified in her eagerness to display her best designs to her new acquaintance.

"I want to be a stylist. I'm doing an apprenticeship with Lana Stilgenbauer, one of the stylists for District Four." Delicate digits closed around the cover of the portfolio and pulled it open, flicking through countless immaculate sketches before coming to rest upon Zell's most prized work of art, a detailed drawing of an illustrious ball gown with a full skirt and bejeweled bodice, all oceanic shades of blue and green that blended together to look like waves rolling into the shore. "See that bodice? That's the bodice from Winona's opening ceremonies dress this year. Lana changed the skirt to make it fitted instead of full, but it's still really neat to know that a piece of my work has been on television, you know?"

Her eyes flicked up to her taller counterpart (but then again most people over the age of ten were taller than her) as she wondered if she had crossed the thin line between pride and boasting and why she was even showing off in the first place. Maybe it was those eyes that seemed to shout I'm going somewhere in this world and you'll never stop me or the smile that said you're intriguing enough for me to give you my time, but Zell found herself continuing to flip absently through the pages as her mouth continued to work of its own accord. "I guess it's just in my blood or something. My mother's a stylist, too. Karinna Thornton. She always does the females from Two. But I didn't want to do my apprenticeship with her, so I got my own apartment and started working for Lana."

She stammered to a halt, wondering how she had come so close to the precipice of family matters that weren't fit for public discussion, to simply blurting my parents have stifled me my entire life and I'm finally free and I'm never going back. So instead of continuing with that particular line of conversation she turned back to her selection of new sketch pads, beginning to look at them with careful scrutiny once again. "But anyway, like I said, I need a new sketch pad for work. I'm Zell, by the way. Zell Thornton."

Something about this new companion with the sunshine smile made Zell a little more forthcoming than she usually was, but he just gave off this vibe that said trust me, tell me everything, and she found herself strangely inclined to do just that. Zell had always been blindly trusting, bordering on too innocent for the world. Always.

[/blockquote][/size]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

life is bigger, it's bigger than you, and you are not me
the lengths that I will go to

Maverick could be Panem's best one-man audience. He stood, shoulders squared to Zell, as she pulled out her portfolio. His eyes followed her fingers as they graced the leather. He hadn't seen many things like it in his lifetime; artists were somewhat difficult to come by, unless one was extremely wealthy, which he was not. He had also let his mother do much of his shopping, so he had never had the opportunity to work closely with someone like Zell. He rather thought it was too bad that he hadn't.

Maverick casually shifted his hands so that he could hold them behind his back as Zell proudly displayed her work. "I remember that dress," he murmured, his eyes full of the sketch. "It had wonderful lines." Of course Maverick remembered most things about the games; it was his job, so to speak. Still, he could vividly recall the dress in question much better than most. This was truly shaping up to be a fortuitous meeting. He felt utterly at ease around Zell, and was more than happy to listen to her trials and triumphs, to what she said aloud and what she did not.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Zell," he responded instantly, holding open his palm to her. "I'm Maverick Miles, also newly independent." His grin widened just a smidge. "There's nothing quite like having your own space, is there?" And this was truly the case for him. Now he was free to pursue his dreams, to wander at his leisure (although, truth be told, he still depended on his parents for pesky things like rent, but he didn't consider that need-to-know information).

Standing close enough to shake Zell's hand, Maverick realized just how tiny she was. Totally unsuited to the arena, but perfectly sized for life in the Capitol, preparing the Tributes. "Do you have big plans for the next Games? I'd love to see any of your other sketches that you would be willing to share."

banner credit: codi-tastic
lyrics:r.e.m. losing my religion
ooc: not my best, i'm sorry!

[Deleted]

She lives in a fairytale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of a world that she's left behind

"I remember that dress, it had wonderful lines."

Zell almost literally glowed with pride, her petite, elfin features lighting up at the rare event of her work being praised. It wasn't that Lana shot down her ideas on a regular basis (usually she was only snippy when she was having a bad day or hadn't had her standard amount of coffee that particular morning), but given her apprentice status, the diminutive blonde was far from used to working with the type of clientele who would offer affirmation of her talent over criticism. So at this unexpected compliment, she couldn't help but absolutely beam, carnation-colored lips splitting into a radiant smile.

"Thank you! I was actually going for a linear sort of approach, that's why I added the boning in the front and then accented it with all the jewels, played it up with the fading of the colors..." she trailed off, fashion jargon fading into the bustling air of the City Circle around her. Her companion took advantage of the silence to introduce himself, stepping a bit closer in order to shake her hand. Zell really wasn't all that surprised to find that her hand was miniscule in comparison to Maverick-Miles-also-newly-independent's, dainty fingers and tiny palm fitting with ease into the larger bone structure. Her grin widened at his introduction, a small laugh tumbling into the air between them. "No, there really isn't. I'd take my little apartment over my parents' place any day."

"Do you have big plans for the next Games? I'd love to see any of your other sketches that you would be willing to share," he asked, magnetic smile giving off a distinct aura of you fascinate me, you have my full attention. Zell, ever the poster child for socially awkward and ineloquent, found herself sputtering for an answer, finally flipping back to the beginning of the tick portfolio and gesturing to a nearby bench, taking a seat and beginning to flick through countless designs.

"I would like to be done with my apprenticeship in a few months... Oh, I forgot about this gown, someone wore it to a presidential gala, you know... I'd really like to get a stylist job... Oh, and this suit, I did a little experimenting with the lines, the jacket turned out very nicely... And between my mother and Lana I've got the connections to get one, but since I'm so young and unknown I'd probably end up with Twelve for a few years. Which is why I've been working on these."

She flipped to the back of the notebook and into the pages containing her new design, coming to rest on an illustration of a potential interview gown she'd done a few days ago. Compared to most of her designs it was simple, but the elegance of the piece was all in the simplicity. At least that was Zell's approach to it. Coal-black satin, no jewels, no sparkles, just solid fabric worked into a classic mermaid silhouette, tight and fitted to the knee with a flaring skirt designed to have a small train. Accessories were everything on this particular design, black elbow-length gloves and high heels that were classy rather than the trashy stilettos that female tributes had been wearing for years. But the jewelry... that particular facet of the design was Zell's pride and joy.

"Here's where it ties into the district," she noted, pointing at the immaculately-drawn structure of a necklace and earrings. Small chunks of coal, raw and unrefined, sat encased in a delicate web of brightly shining silver wire, the contrast of the rough edges of the mineral with the polished uniformity of the actual jewelry making an interesting clash. Zell had never been good at gauging people's reactions or even controlling her own, so she couldn't hide the slight flush that ghosted over her cheekbones as purplepink eyes darted up to search for Maverick's approval (or lack thereof? She couldn't tell). "I was going for a simple elegance kind of thing... I'm not sure if it worked."

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((ooc: Good lord, woman, stop spouting off about fashion. No one wants to hear it. I apologize for her rambling. D:))

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

life is bigger, it's bigger than you, and you are not me
the lengths that I will go to

He loved that she glowed under the weight of his words. He was very careful not to do the same, although her preening was exactly the sort of reaction he'd been going for, and it pleased him endlessly that he had elicited it from her. He was getting better. It had been a very hard lesson to learn - to know to ask the right questions to get the right response. So much of life was spent asking questions to get specific information, or even to inform the addressee. But no, it took a certain focus, a finesse, to gently guide people to exactly where he wanted them to be.

And he liked to think, too, that they really wanted to be there as well. Take Zell. She clearly was talented, and in a very tough and competitive industry. All she needed was the excuse and then she paraded her work out into the sunlight. A little more of that and she was sure to make a name for herself. He followed her politely to the bench, his hands now tucked behind his back until she had seated herself. Only then did he put one to the back of the bench and the other to his knee, properly, sedately. This was a conversation among friends, it would seem, although they had just met.

Maverick craned his neck to see the portfolio against the sunlight. He gave a sympathetic grimace when she mentioned being stuck with Twelve. Wasn't that the worst of all things? But he sensed it wasn't the right time to interrupt her, verbally. So he said nothing, nodding where appropriate, until she opened the conversation again. "This is... breathtaking," he paused as he searched for the perfect word. "Subtle, completely subtle, but it makes your point. I only hope you end up with a worthy tribute this games to wear such a masterpiece."

He opened his smile - his only, and greatest weapon - a tad further, and now that he sat with his back against the sun, it held its own warmth and radiance without any interference. He ducked his head a little so that their gaze could be on the same level (she was so petite!) and then very gently laid his hand atop hers on the portfolio. "I really appreciate you sharing your work with me, Zell. It's rare that an artist is brave enough to do that." And it was always easiest to flatter when it was absolutely the truth. He sensed, though, that what he had said would fit more with the end of a conversation, instead of the middle. Not wanting to lose Zell, he casually lowered his hand. "I always thought creating the costumes for District One would be the most rewarding. So many jewels to pick from. What about you?"

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[Deleted]

She lives in a fairytale
Somewhere too far for us to find
Forgotten the taste and smell
Of a world that she's left behind

"I'm not brave," Zell muttered, her fingers knitting together in her lap. Out of every word that could have been used to describe the petite blonde, she hardly thought that brave was an appropriate one. How could someone be brave after living their whole life holed up in a fancy mansion with hardly any friends and nothing to do but doodle her days away? How could she possibly be brave when she was a little rabbit-hearted thing, scared to death deep-down of the boundless depths of the world? No, she wasn't brave. "I just know how to act like I am."

She was more than thrilled by Maverick's compliment, however, flushing a shade of pink that rivaled the surgically-altered shade of her eyes and grinning quietly, basking in the rare glow of someone's appreciation until she felt completely satiated with it, like a cat sunning itself on a summer afternoon. In a world where she was used to her mother's incessant warnings about how dangerous everything was coupled with Lana's constant harping about how she was doing everything wrong, The taller boy's compliments were a breath of fresh air, fueling her limitless optimism until she practically bounced in her seat, intoxicated with his attention and the fact that he actually wanted to talk to her about fashion, one of the few things in the world that she actually had a bit of experience with.

"I'm not so sure I'd do well with One," she said, tucking a stray piece of hair back into place. "There's no room for originality. Everything you do gets covered in jewels, so it's just like designing clothes for people here. I like what my mother does for the girls from Two. Edgy. Dangerous. Lots of stark lines. It's not my preferred style, but it's different, you know?"

Zell had come to terms with the fact that she would always work (eat, breathe, sleep, live) in her mother's shadow. No one worked in the fashion world who hadn't heard of Karinna Thornton, and it had quickly become a well-known bit of information that her daughter wasn't nearly the businesswoman that she was, despite a fledgeling talent that showed quite a bit of promise. Zell was a disappointment. She'd finally figured it out after all those years carefully cloistered away in her proverbial ivory tower. She hadn't been sheltered for her own safety, but rather for the safety of her mother's reputation. She simply wasn't ruthless enough to make a name for herself, to be any sort of somebody in the Capitol lifestyle. She didn't understand the concept of social debauchery, rose-colored glasses seemed to be permanently welded to her face, and for goodness' sake, she cried during the Games. No self-respecting stylist showed that kind of weakness. After all, tributes were just breathing mannequins. Not actual people.

"I think I'd prefer Three, if I had a choice," she continued, hoping that her face hadn't been as much of an open book as it usually was. "So many things you could do with internal electronics. I've always wanted to design a dress that could be used as a type of screen, or maybe one that was completely covered in internal lighting that no one could see until you turned it on."

Still flushed, she fixed her gaze intently on her feet, at a loss for any further words. "But this is probably all really boring for you. Um, what do you like to do?"

[/blockquote][/size]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

life is bigger, it's bigger than you, and you are not me
the lengths that I will go to

Maverick's brow lowered, forming a crease between his brows. It was an odd expression, given his smile, inquisitive and baffled at once. Not brave? He wanted to contradict her, to show her how courageous it was to put one's innards on paper and fabric and let the whole world see them. But he knew better. Challenging such a base assumption would only hurt her, might make her clam up and dismiss him. As he very much wanted to stay in her company at least awhile longer, he kept his mouth shut, although it was one of the hardest things for Maverick to do.

"It's often hard to know ourselves." He said, perhaps enigmatically, but it seemed like the most neutral response, both true and compromising with her self analysis. Maverick nodded along as she discussed the districts, opening up his thoughts to them in a whole new way. He mostly thought of them as providers for the things he needed and wanted, and vessels for producing tributes of varying worth. By the second measure he ought to admire Twelve, but it was so damn frustrating that such a sooty, barren district should produce victors, while he spent all of his money sponsoring and betting on Careers, which by all rights should win. After all, they trained and worked hard for the opportunity. What did the kids from twelve do? Complain, mostly, look defeated and dejected, even when the Capitol put salve in their wounds, regrew limbs for them.

The lack of gratitude was really what did it. No, he decided, he could never sponsor a tribute from an upper district. Interview them, laugh with them, hear their stories - yes. But put his money behind them? Never.

He'd seen a fair bit of witchery go into the costumes of Three, but never quite like what she described. "It would be a sensation." He agreed, his eyes searching for her gaze. He didn't know the first thing about electronics, so this was once again a dead end in the conversation. At least he had been able to agree with her, to support her viewpoint, before moving on.

"What do I like to do..." he repeated, chuckling a little under his breath. In one fluid, casual motion, he shifted so that he sat with his back on the bench, shoulder-to-shoulder with her. The sun now lit part of his face, but that was quite alright with him. He felt more at ease, having found the reins of the conversations. "I spend most of my days interning at the television station, and that is at least a good distraction. I like people watching." He closed his eyes, warmed by the sunlight and Zell's presence, let his head rest against the back of the bench. "I like talking to you." He said after a time, after considering it, and finding it to be true.

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lyrics:r.e.m. losing my religion