spun by gold — prior. & josiah.

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

Prior

I waited for him by the veranda. The moon smiled even though it was captured and cannot escape from the firmament below, and the city lights appeared innocent despite the venom underneath. I waited for him, cladded from head to toe in a gradient of periwinkle, despite him being the mysterious creature he was beneath the sun-burnt skin and the witching charms.

It would be a leisured wait if I wasn't so anxious. After mere seconds of entrancing his chambers, avoxes swarmed in with plates and plates and trays and platters of foods – all savory, warm, golden – and soft furred robes that tempted me from the table even now.

Any sort of wish I had was fulfilled to the brims. Woefully, I wished it could be the same for the tributes residing floors below, that their wishes for escape could be granted and that they could be freed back to the wilderness like caged doves.

But, that did not sell. Massacres and rivalries sold.

Sighing, shoulders leaned forward – closer to the skyline crackling with man-made electricity. Bright lights fenced the capitol and between the laid a world that was difficult even for its citizens to recognize sometimes.

Boredom crept up after a few seconds, along with a pinch of agitation. He sent the lavish invitation. He arranged the cuisines. He covered the room in flowers. but, I haven't seen the actual him since a few weeks ago.

Exasperated, footsteps ushered themselves back to living room where they begun to pace in circles. Hands knotted into fists. Eyes wandered around the chambers, continuously, at the mechanic clock hands. Patience wore thin. Between all of that, the door creaked open. Josiah strode in, indolent, reserved, and nowhere near apologetic.

“I was just about to leave.” I confessed, eyes narrowing with blissful annoyance at the other. 

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Josiah

”What is the time?” An ignored plea of knowledge, the hustle and bustle of the gamemaker’s headquarters swallow up Josiah’s question. Final touches are being prepared, all the pieces finally matching together in the short time that is left. Never before has Josiah been so stressed. Three buttons on his canary coloured shirt are opened, allowing some aid of cooling to his skin. Even his brow is attacked with residue, a fine indicator on what is going on in his head. This strain was never anticipated and so a glass of fizzy wine is a peace offering he gives to himself whenever a second is spared.

”Does anyone have the time?” For the first time in a long time he raises his voice, his plea is high pitched and the unfortunate soul that sits besides him finally reveals the digits on a screen. ”Ahh I am late!”

He is more fashionably late than usual, Josiah sees no need in carrying time with him. Life is short after all, there is no point living by the clock. It is why the silver pocket watch that Zaya has gifted him still sits in its case on his beside table.

There is no time to fix his appearance, just a pat down of his hair with his palm through the elevator’s mirror. ”Do I look good to you?” The poor avox who shares the metal box with him nods.

It has been weeks since he last saw him, lost in the world of being a gamemaker, company has somehow fallen down his agenda and so now he is recycling his companions. There is something about the young teacher, a more grounded mind than his own, something much desired right now.

He strides through the door, each step unhurried despite his overdue arrival. He carries a grin as Prior greets him, of course it is not a simple hello. ”Well I am here now. I hope you took advantage of the hospitality I left for you – of course the time I gave was provisional.” Josiah pulls a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket, pouring out two glasses for the pair. ”Now let’s not mosey about here, I plan to take you down to view the delights of the training centre.”

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

Prior

The flute of champagne shimmered like liquid gold and the elegant way Josiah poured it made it seem like it was molten under the man’s fingertips.

I’d kissed the veins of those digits once; they were soft and warm beneath my lips. It was a chaste kiss, given as quickly as it was returned, promising more in the imminent future. But the long wait had shredded any hope of a kiss for Josiah Layton to ribbons – not tonight, not when I waited hours for you. Sighing, I made a lackadaisical flick with my wrist, refusing the champagne offered.

“On a cleanse – I am allowing myself to only have cucumber and honey water this week.”

Tonight, I would not dance to the melody of dark temptation; I would not let neither Josiah Layton nor the alcohol touch these lips. But, control was my one flaw, forever so gossamer thin and brittle.

And, I loved the quick magic of a drink:

the heaviness in the eyes and the lovely distortion of the world around. Everything looked whimsical and dreamlike when you had a buzz in the veins.

As of right now, the only aspect close to a dream is Josiah Layton’s countenance. But, he was a dream I wouldn’t prefer to have in fear of getting trapped within it for eternity. Josiah was a labyrinth crafted out of the same gold as the champagne’s, radiant and ominously divine, and judging from the prolonged duration of my stares, perhaps I was already lost within his maze.

“Isn’t the training center empty now?” The Games were already in ecstatic motion, children dying in technicolor left and right, hour after hour.

It made my stomach sick — the barbarism — but no one dared to rebel against the gods. Josiah Layton was one of those gods, I realized with a jolt, stained with light and death. He was a creator and a destroyer; I was an underpaid Capitol kindergarten teacher, living on black coffee and leftovers for breakfast. A sense of inferiority comes in a sudden and strikes, like blue lightning, and I clutched the petticoat on my arm closer to my chest.

“I should — I think I should get back home, Josie. There’s a ton of — um — papers to mark and grades to assign on my desk. My apologies.” 

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Josiah

Josiah is treading off piste, just as he did with the preparations for day four of his games. The tension makes the bubbles in the glass flute raise quickly. Would a lack of punctuality really cause this atmosphere?

Fault lines run across every inch of Josiah’s fibres; may he mask himself with a perfect smile, but his sister forever remarks the daily mistakes that he conducts with his life. This male in his company, a slippery catch that he is does not want to see sink into the sea. May Josiah step up to the life of commitment, a virgin land that does not have a single footprint with his name on it. Mr Goodrem different from the others, a respectful occupation and a kind of nature that Josiah has easily fallen for.

Josie places the refused glass on a side table as he shrugs at Prior’s dismissal of the gift. ”Well I am sure there is a bottle of something soft in here.”

Lateness is the curse to today’s date, but a solid explanation has the excuse wrapped up in a ribbon. Every day Josie has been preparing for something. A new games day. An event with the president. A date with Prior Goodrem.

“Isn’t the training center empty now?”

Indeed, it is empty of the hustle of tributes but with some decoration, Josie has put the abandoned room to good use. No permissions granted, surely, he has the power on what the training centre can be turned into while the masses are entertained by the show he has scripted. No questions have been asked as he ordered the avoxes to light each of the candles, setting the mood for tonight’s date…

“I should — I think I should get back home, Josie. There’s a ton of — um — papers to mark and grades to assign on my desk. My apologies.”

Prior Goodrem is a slippery catch but Josie has no desire of letting him go. Not after all his efforts of reeling him closer.

”What do you mean?” Josiah extends his hands out to Prior, resting one hand on the forearm that is tight to the male’s chest and the other tugs at the coat in the clutches. ”Tonight I prepared a surprise for you in the training centre, at least take a look.”

Inspiration from his own creation, the theme is of day four of his own games. Except candles replace the bonfire and there is some comfort in the straw bales. A picnic under an artificial starry lit sky that is printed on the ceiling. These efforts cannot go to waste. ”Please come Prior, everyone needs a break from life, I am sure your students won’t mind their papers being delayed.”