capitol } Oriana LeFayn [fin]
Apr 25, 2015 12:23:39 GMT -5
Post by анзие (Anz) on Apr 25, 2015 12:23:39 GMT -5
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i'm not sure if kay has dibs on this char because we discussed this so long ago but she does now? Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
Oriana LeFayn
[attr="class","orishadow"]
I wish...
Beauty is not defined by age. No, not beauty. Maturity and class are both qualities defined by age - like fine wine, or good spirits, or even those gourmet cheeses they sometimes served at parties. Beauty, on the other hand, is defined by a youth that never fades, or the way youths gaze after her as she walks catlike by. Beauty is flowers in her hair and coy smiles and a game of tag that she always wins.
Always used to win.
The thought tightens her slender hand on her bottle of wine. She drinks.
Oriana LeFayn has never lost before. Never been denied and left behind, and it drives her crazy to think some stupid child - some god damned self-righteous victor - thinks he can get away with marrying someone else and not have to deal with the consequences. There are always going to be consequences, dear boy, and you will be facing the result of your actions. That stupid, insolent child - that horrible, damned victor-
Blue eyes flicker open at the barrage of negative thoughts; a slow breath slithers into her lungs and escapes in different form.
Nobody leaves Oriana behind. She leaves them, always, leaves them panting after her like pathetic versions of themselves - the sad and lonely club, Oriana dubs them in her mind. Because that's all they were in the end, and she loved knowing they were shattered for her affections. She queened over them with a flirtatious flutter of her lashes and a secretive smile that has them wondering every single moment of every single day for the rest of their lives. It doesn't matter that she's older now, touching her mid-forties in mere days. She always manages.
Nobody's ever rejected her.
Except you.
Oriana narrows her eyes at the victor sitting across the room from her cross-legged perch on her white velvet sofa. His serious expression stares flatly back at her, and with a hiss she recoils like he's actually there, sliding to her feet in a single graceful motion.
He never takes his eyes off her. Painted eyes never blink, never look away, and once that would have thrilled her - just the fact that he existed in the form of a portrait across her room. Painted, of course, by the Capitol's famed artist, whats-his-name, who didn't want payment in anything but Oriana's kiss. They're all so easy.
All of them but this one man.
He never takes his eyes off her.
She throws her empty wine bottle at him.
Glass shatters against his face, falling like tiny bells onto the floor.
--
It's been years since she first met him, first heard of him. Just over a decade, as a matter of fact - and she's loved him since the moment she laid eyes on him. Hoped with all her heart, even, for his survival. For his strength in that arena, so she might break it in her own bed.
He survived.
But Oriana never broke him.
She never even touched him, so distant he was - so out of reach for someone like her. Like her! Famed and well-known and much-loved throughout the city - and yet she may as well have been an Avox to him, mute and invisible and useless. He said not a word to her. Not a single word.
He didn't even answer her letters.
Damn him.
She attempted for years to get close to him. Attempted with no luck - he missed her completely, or would not speak to her, or whatever. He'd always been busy, and for years she made excuses for him: he's a busy man, he's a victor, of course he must talk first with Gamemakers and other victors, I can't expect him to make time for love when he's so wanted, so desired all through the city. Stupid, stupidly thinking so fondly of him all the while he was playing, and now...
Now he's married to some other victor, that stupid pretty-boy from two.
Years ago, the single thought of Julian Bryze sent rage swirling in her heart like she could burst. That boy was the only one who'd ever gotten under her skin so badly, idiot.
Except now the joke's on her, and Julian Bryze was happily a constant in Mace Emberstatt's life. Nowhere in Oriana's can she find the heart to hate him anymore. Not while her fury is fixed on the man himself.
I wish you pain, Emberstatt.
Beauty is not defined by age. No, not beauty. Maturity and class are both qualities defined by age - like fine wine, or good spirits, or even those gourmet cheeses they sometimes served at parties. Beauty, on the other hand, is defined by a youth that never fades, or the way youths gaze after her as she walks catlike by. Beauty is flowers in her hair and coy smiles and a game of tag that she always wins.
Always used to win.
The thought tightens her slender hand on her bottle of wine. She drinks.
Oriana LeFayn has never lost before. Never been denied and left behind, and it drives her crazy to think some stupid child - some god damned self-righteous victor - thinks he can get away with marrying someone else and not have to deal with the consequences. There are always going to be consequences, dear boy, and you will be facing the result of your actions. That stupid, insolent child - that horrible, damned victor-
Blue eyes flicker open at the barrage of negative thoughts; a slow breath slithers into her lungs and escapes in different form.
Nobody leaves Oriana behind. She leaves them, always, leaves them panting after her like pathetic versions of themselves - the sad and lonely club, Oriana dubs them in her mind. Because that's all they were in the end, and she loved knowing they were shattered for her affections. She queened over them with a flirtatious flutter of her lashes and a secretive smile that has them wondering every single moment of every single day for the rest of their lives. It doesn't matter that she's older now, touching her mid-forties in mere days. She always manages.
Nobody's ever rejected her.
Except you.
Oriana narrows her eyes at the victor sitting across the room from her cross-legged perch on her white velvet sofa. His serious expression stares flatly back at her, and with a hiss she recoils like he's actually there, sliding to her feet in a single graceful motion.
He never takes his eyes off her. Painted eyes never blink, never look away, and once that would have thrilled her - just the fact that he existed in the form of a portrait across her room. Painted, of course, by the Capitol's famed artist, whats-his-name, who didn't want payment in anything but Oriana's kiss. They're all so easy.
All of them but this one man.
He never takes his eyes off her.
She throws her empty wine bottle at him.
Glass shatters against his face, falling like tiny bells onto the floor.
--
It's been years since she first met him, first heard of him. Just over a decade, as a matter of fact - and she's loved him since the moment she laid eyes on him. Hoped with all her heart, even, for his survival. For his strength in that arena, so she might break it in her own bed.
He survived.
But Oriana never broke him.
She never even touched him, so distant he was - so out of reach for someone like her. Like her! Famed and well-known and much-loved throughout the city - and yet she may as well have been an Avox to him, mute and invisible and useless. He said not a word to her. Not a single word.
He didn't even answer her letters.
Damn him.
She attempted for years to get close to him. Attempted with no luck - he missed her completely, or would not speak to her, or whatever. He'd always been busy, and for years she made excuses for him: he's a busy man, he's a victor, of course he must talk first with Gamemakers and other victors, I can't expect him to make time for love when he's so wanted, so desired all through the city. Stupid, stupidly thinking so fondly of him all the while he was playing, and now...
Now he's married to some other victor, that stupid pretty-boy from two.
Years ago, the single thought of Julian Bryze sent rage swirling in her heart like she could burst. That boy was the only one who'd ever gotten under her skin so badly, idiot.
Except now the joke's on her, and Julian Bryze was happily a constant in Mace Emberstatt's life. Nowhere in Oriana's can she find the heart to hate him anymore. Not while her fury is fixed on the man himself.
I wish you pain, Emberstatt.
odair
i'm not sure if kay has dibs on this char because we discussed this so long ago but she does now? Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]
![Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] Avatar](https://64.media.tumblr.com/de401f4e6e4ca07c241afc45583f7195/d2f1890293928896-84/s500x750/0ba6fe3572f4f5f72b52d28965cfcda71e4171a0.png)
