Unexpected Introductions [PHTHALO WHATELEY/FLINT]

[Skylar]

♉︎

LORELAI BIGSBY

District 11 was quite warm. From a mild, rainy winter, into a blistering Spring. Summer was right around the corner, and the air felt especially swampy and humid recently. Lorelai focused on staying indoors, where a few air conditioning units sprinkled around the house kept her cool. Yes, they were one of the wealthiest families in the district, but it didn't change the fact that it was District 11. There was not a complex air vent system, but still, they lived in the lap of luxury. Every room had a chilliness that most residents would be incredibly grateful for, but it just came to be something that Lorelai expected.

The acres around the family's estate were busy being maintained by citizens of the district that the Bigsby family employed. They paid the bare minimum, but this was the standard in District 11. Some families tried to keep themselves afloat with a small family business, and some sought employment from Capitol issued jobs, while some provided for their families in the fields behind Bigsby farms. Bent at the hips, sun hats hanging over their shoulders, the employees of Bigsby Farms were busy harvesting the season's harvest of cabbage, garlic, and rhubard. Other employees were busy tilling the earth, plowing rows for planting. The livestock, the cattle especially, lazed about underneath the canopies of the Oak trees. 

Lorelai did appreciate how beautiful her home was. The land stretched across for a while, perfectly 4 sided plots neighbored each other. She was on the front porch, looking out into her front yard, which was much more residential. Short, green grass lined the yard. A cluster of sycamore trees clustered near the edge of the yard. She sipped out of a mason jar full of sweet tea, a yellow ribbon in her hair. She took a bite of an apple, grateful there wasn't anyone around so she could take a large bare-toothed bite.

She was trying her best to have a good day today. The reaping was right around the corner, and it was one thing that Lorelai had no say in. In some ways, it was her biggest fear.

Matilda Bigsby was inside, cooking a lunch of freshly harvested cabbage and sausage. A bit on the fatty side, but good nonetheless. Matilda was taking extra care to attend to Lorelai. The mother of Lorelai wore her fears on her sleeves a little more than her, and even shed a few tears in the privacy of her own kitchen as she chopped away. Mr. Bigsby was preoccupying himself outside, overseeing his employees, doing some hands-on work in the stables. Normally, he'd have someone do it for him, but in stressful times, Bigsby had trained themselves to keep busy.

Lorelai crossed her legs as she took another sip of her tea. She did her best to preoccupy her time thinking of other things other than the inevitably of doom of a girl in her district. She prayed it wasnt't her. She distracted herself by thinking of one of the guys that her dad employed. A 21 year old man that kept to himself, but Lorelai always made special time to say hello to him when he was there. Her mind was busy thinking about his sharp jawline when she spotted a man coming around the bend, walking along the dirt path.

From first glance, the guy seemed normal. She chucked it off to a business meeting with Dad. There were plenty of people in District 11 that came to meet Mr. Bigsby for business. Most of the time it was some negotiation over land or working out an employment deal. Occasionally there were beggars. This man, though, did not seem familiar.

As the guy neared, Lorelai stood up from her chair, holding her jar of tea in her right hand. She leaned against the white, wooden railing of her porch as the man came up. He seemed fit, a little rough around the edges. Lorelai's concern had most definitely shifted from the Reaping to the visitor, who Lorelai looked on with a furrowed brow as he approached. His arms from the elbow down were - and Lorelai blinked a couple times to make sure she was seeing them correctly - completely blue.

"Hello..." Lorelai said with uncertainty as the man approached. "Here to see my father?"

☽LIA☾

[flint]

---Phthalo Whateley---

Late May is when we do our second harvest of the year.  The sun beats down on us as we stoop over the shrubby plants, stewing in the humid District Eleven air.  Sweat drips down my back as I cut the plants down to a few inches of stalk and fill my burlap sack with the leafy part of the plant.  We've been out here since just before the sun rose at half past six.  That   makes ten hours of harvesting today.  I look over at my brother.  He's still going strong filling sacks at about the same rate as when we started.  But my stomach lets out a low growl.  If I need food, I'm sure Pop and the kids are  even hungrier.  I call out, "You finish up here.  I'll go find us some food."  He grunts in agreement.  I know he's just as hungry as me.  Probably more so; just strong enough to keep going when I can't.  

I go into the house and quickly wash up.  I slick my hair back and put on one of my favorite white poplin dress shirts, making sure to crisply cuff the sleeves to take advantage of the contrast between my spotless clothing and discolored forearms.  I put a pinch of dried leaves in my lip and suck out some of the aromatic bitter flavor.  Our safe hasn't got much cash, so its up to me to barter to get food for the family.  Eight mouths to feed today.  I can't skip another day, so yeah.  Eight.  We can't afford for that to be more than a few grams of powdered dye.  I scoop out three grams of the dark chalky powder onto a handkerchief and twist it into a little pouch and set off into the district to find dinner for eight.

We won't have cash until we fill our next Capitol contract at the end of the month, so I'm limited to just the merchants with a use for dye.  I've been going to the printer for money, but every time he makes a purchase he lowers the price he's willing to pay.  He says he's taking a discount for buying in 'bulk' but the prick is really just taking advantage of the fact that hungry children can't afford to wait to eat 'till I have cash.  My thoughts are interrupted by the captivating scent of someone frying a greasy pan of sausage.  I stop walking to deeply inhale as my mouth begins to water at the thought the mere thought of pork fat.  The smell's coming from the big house on Bigsby Farms.  The thought occurred to me that someone like Bigsby with all the money in the world just might be willing to part with some of that sausage for some fancy powdered dye.  I sharply turn from the main road onto the dirt path that leads to the big house.  I catch a few furtive glances from their farmhands as I walk past the sprawling fields.  I even smile and wave to one young boy who didn't even attempt to hide his curiosity at my otherworldly blue hands.  

When I was still a few yards away from the big house, I caught the attention of a petite young woman lounging on the front porch nursing a glass of sweet tea.  "Hello..." she called out.  Her voice shook a little, almost like she was startled to see me.  "here to see my father?"  I jog the last bit of the walkway and quickly climb the steps to join her on the covered wrap-around porch.  I get a good look of her.  Her hair is tied in a nice little ribbon and her clothes are nice-definitely more expensive than mine.  I make a point of resting my eyes on her hands for a moment, long enough to see that they clearly haven't done anything resembling real farm work.  I respond to her question.  "You know, I'm not sure who I'm here to see.  I smelled your sausage from the road and wondered if you folks would be willing to make a trade."  I flash the girl my most charming toothy grin and pop my knuckles in an attempt to pique her curiosity.  "I've got the finest blue dye in all of Panem and I'm sure a family as distinguished as the Bigsby's can make much better use of it than I could.  Would you be able to make a quick trade on your family's behalf?  You could use it for a lovely dress or to color your hair for the Reaping."  I register the look of fear that flashes across her face for a second at the mention of the Reaping.  These rich kids don't have anything better to do than lounge about worrying about the negligible chance they'll get picked for the Games.  Money doesn't insulate people from fear.  It just gives them time to be afraid of something other than poverty.  This might be how I get her to give me those sausages.  I fall silent, holding eye contact.  Your move, Miss Bigsby.

[Skylar]

♉︎

LORELAI BIGSBY

Who was he to bring up the Reaping around her? Did he know who she was? Well, clearly he had some idea... After all, most people did. But wasn't that... disrespectful? Taboo, at the very least. Lorelai continued to wear a look of pure confusion, a slight eyebrow raised at the visitor. A blackbird crowed in a tree behind him. A piece of ice split apart in Lorelai's tea glass. So, clearly, no appointment was made. He'd showed up unannounced at Bigsby Farms. Honestly, it took a certain brevity to do that. But from the looks of it, he didn't seem like someone that cared about status the way the Bigsbys did. After all, he seemed to be wearing his blue skin like a badge of honor.

He was intriguing to say the least. Lorelai scratched at her shoulder as she softly smiled at the man. He seemed innocent enough, and it was definitely no secret that Lorelai was much better off than the majority of District 11, so she almost felt flattered that he was visiting them for a trade, like they were his lifeline. But it didn't outweigh her annoyance. She was trying to relax, after all. She had a lot on her brain.

Lorelai's smile twitched as the man cracked his hands, and she continued to struggle making eye contact with him, more magnetized to his blue skin. He seemed vaguely familiar. Mr. Bigsby had mentioned him once or twice. This man was, despite his appearance, experienced in this kind of conversation. In that regard, he had the upper hand.

After he'd skipped onto the porch, he gave a spiel. He was, seemingly hungry. The finest blue dye in all of Panem? That was a big statement. Lorelai remained purely skeptical, looking at the man as if she couldn't tell if this was a legitimate offer or if there was something she was missing out on. "I've got the finest blue dye in all of Panem and I'm sure a family as distinguished as the Bigsby's can make much better use of it than I could. Would you be able to make a quick trade on your family's behalf? You could use it for a lovely dress or to color your hair for the Reaping."

Lorelai was not an idiot. Talk was cheap. He'd have to prove it before she'd part with sausages. Not only that, but she was aware of the risk that carried her. Food was a sensitive topic in District 11, and if the Capitol or even some affiliated with them knew that the Bigsby's daughter was letting go of prime food in exchange for another Capitol good? Well, it was a risk to say the least.

She swirled the ice around in her drink, looking at the bag of blue dye. Did he really have to bring up the Reaping? Her stomach tickled a little bit, thinking of the inevitably of it. IT would be one of the only times where her riches could not protect her. In some ways, and she was aware, she was probably worse off because of it. But maybe the Capitol would treat her right... She was a Bigsby after all. They produced quality, consistently.

Lorelai took on a face of stoicism. Dad had been talking to her recently about the future of the farm. After all, if she wasn't reaped this year, it confirmed she would be running the farm at some point. The man was right, they'd definitely be able to do more with it than him. Lorelai got a good look at him, studying his bushy eyebrows and stern jawline. His eyes carried a softness, though, and somewhere in the back of Lorelai's brain, she loosened up.

"Well, you are probably right," she said, taking another sip. "We could do much more with it. And yes, it's always nice to stand out, isn't it?" She said, giving her best impression of a natural laugh. She was on her toes. A bull after all, this Taurus was especially territorial. He seemed alright but, he was a stranger unannounced in Lorelai's space. The smell of sausage wafted through the air, drifting with the wind through the nearest open window. The crimson curtains wavered with the breeze. "And all you're looking for is some sausage, you say? Do you not have anything to eat at home?" A flip switched within her, it was time to take control of the situation. She was a Bigsby, and not only that, she was much like her father. She turned on the charm. There was something in it for her, after all. 

And he was right. This guy was obviously experienced in his craft, and he was clearly a hard worker. Lorelai took note of all the skin that was picked apart around his fingers.  "No matter, let's head inside. Although I ask, and I hope you don't take offense.. that you may not get any of the dye on anything,"she said with a grin, walking towards the door. "Mom's in the kitchen. I believe Father's out in the back somewhere. He's been busy recently." She opened the door, taking a step inside. "And if you don't mind, shoes off, please. We wouldn't like to dirty up the floors! Had a good day so far?" 

And in they went, Lorelai Bigsby leading the charge towards the kitchen. Her lofty ceilings welcomed them, hard wood floors lining the way to the kitchen. "Mom, we have a visitor!" she shouted, starting off down the hallway.  She glanced back at the man, "Right this way." 

☽LIA☾

[flint]

---Phthalo Whateley---

The Bigsby girl tries to keep her composure. She lazily stirs her iced tea with her straw and lounges in her chair like a queen holding court.  She struggles to keep her face straight and her eyes locked to mine instead of on my hands.  When she agrees that her family would have a good use for the dye, she sounds almost bored.  But her eyes move much too quickly for someone who isn't paying attention.  They widen with emotion at the mention of the Reaping--dart to my knuckles as they pop and crack--jump back up to my face to make strained eye contact--ever so subtly twitch up and to the right as she registers a new idea--then land back on me.  This is a girl whose mind is racing at a rate of a mile a minute.  Part of me wishes I knew exactly what she was thinking.  The other part wants to write her off with the assumption that it's just a rapid fire succession of banal musings about sweet tea and family pedigrees.  But so far, the only thing I really know is that I was right.  The Games are her weak point, that are going to get me food for the family.  I think today, the odds are ever in my favor.

I'm not the only one who's noticed weakness though.  The next words from her mouth sound almost sympathetic: "And all you're looking for is some sausage, you say? Do you not have anything to eat at home?" The question sounds like it comes from a place of genuine concern and helpfulness.  But that damned printer has already taught me the lesson that as soon as someone figures out that you're hungry they start to take advantage of your weakness.  I offer up a silent prayer to Ripred that he keeps my noisy stomach from betraying me as I tell the Bigsby girl my first lie. "Of course I've got food at home.  my potatoes and peppers have done very well this year. I just smelled your sausage on the way to the butcher shop and decided to give you the chance to trade first.  It seems like you've got the higher quality product, after all."  Hopefully I'm convincing enough to get her to drop the subject.

Then, she flipped the script completely.  The girl invited me into the big house.  She told me not to get my dye on anything and to take my shoes of.  I politely smile and nod my head obediently, but say nothing.  I have to admit to being more than a little gobsmacked by the grandeur of the girl's home.  The second I cross the threshold, I'm hit by a wall of cool air and an involuntary shiver goes down my spine.  She continues speaking about her parents.  I don't really listen. I'm busy taking in the parlor furniture's deep crimson upholstery, matching the fluttering curtains.  Of course, its easier to make red colors than blue, but the fabrics had a richness of color that any dye maker would stop to admire.  Then her voice went up.  A question: "Had a good day so far?" It isn't a difficult question but it catches me off-guard.  "umm yeah," I reply like an idiot who would let pretty colors distract him from feeding his family.  I clear my throat and return to the matter at hand.  "We've been harvesting our second indigo crop of the year.  It's a week earlier than it was last year.  All that rain last month has been good for us.  I saw your people picking cabbages.  Are you all having a good harvest?  She doesn't strike me as the type to be keenly aware of how things are going in the field.  If she was, she'd have been picking cabbages herself instead of sipping tea and watching her staff do the heavy labor.  

She leads me into the kitchen, where Mrs. Bigsby is frying a large pan of sausages and cabbage.  Even while her stove is on, the kitchen is refreshingly cool.  The scent of pork fat, cabbage, and fennel fills the room.  I swallow to keep from actively drooling.  If I can get my hands on some of this food, my brother will be thrilled.  It's exactly the kind of reward he deserves for putting in such a long, hard day of work.  My eyes are drawn to the pan, but I force them back onto the Bigsby girl, a spitting image of her mother.  I indulge in a quick sniff.  "smells good."

[Skylar]

♉︎

LORELAI BIGSBY

A coolness filled the air, and Lorelai was much more in her comfort zone walking through the house. She'd slipped off her shoes and walked around now in yellow socks. She thought hard, and she really didn't have many blue things. She wasn't aware of just how rare it is, and a beggar like this man willing to part with some for some sausage? He wasn't fooling anyone. He was hungry. People of District 11 weren't choosars, and beggars can't be choosers. Lorelai refrained from embarrassing him further. She knew to take the more respectable approach when it came to business.

Mrs. Bigsby jumped at first sight of the man, knocking half the rope of smoked sausage out of the skillet, before instinctively grabbing and replacing the sausage in the skillet. She looked at the skillet, and then back at the visitor, filling her immediate discomfort with a forced smile. Mrs. Bigsby was most definitely not ready to take on a new visitor. Her dark hair was a bit disheveled and hadn't even been washed today, but she had to take charge of the situation. Mrs. Bigsby turned the burner on the stove down to low and stirred the pot of cabbage a few times before speaking to the man, staying a careful distance away from him.

Lorelai received the man's questions but lacked the knowledge to answer it. She didn't know the first thing about how the crops were doing. She spent her time dancing, or admiring the beauty of the farm, but did not know the first thing as far as any logistics went. Thankfully, Matilda stepped in. "Oh, yes, the yields been plentiful this year. I'm sure the Capitol will be quite happy with this crop. In fact, used some today!" Matilda looked at his arms. "Are you... okay?" she asked, doing her best to channel her motherly instincts. She was never too motherly, although she was quite a good mother to Lorelai, it was mostly because she lived vicariously through Lorelai's youth and beauty. She coveted her in some ways. In this moment she was clearly a bit off guard, and was not the same, haughty and well presented Matilda Bigsby that the District normally thought of. 

Lorelai glanced at the round dinner table, where a circular light fixture hung overhead. There were four spots at the dinner table, and no deal was ever as quick as just saying yes. She sat her tea down on the counter. The man definitely was polite, and was obliging to Lorelai's wishes. He stood, bare foot on the wooden floor, and Lorelai caught his eyes bouncing to and fro. She felt flattered at his admiration to the Bigsby home. Matilda and Lorelai did like to keep thingsd tidy in the house for this very reason. "Are you... okay?" asked Lorelai's mother, and Lorelai's eyes widened. She put her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She raised her eyebrows at her mother as if to say, That was a bit blunt, Mom! Lorelai pulled her ponytail over her shoulder. 

"Yes, it does smell quite delicious! Mother, is it almost ready? Our friend here's come with a blue dye... and it does look quite beautiful." Lorelai offered this with greed in her eyes. She smiled at the man.  "He's just looking for some sausage to take home, and he says he'll leave us with some. I'd definitely like that. Is there any to spare?"

Matilda put her hands on her hips, turning her head over her shoulder as if to dwell on how much she'd cooked, and if it were going to be worthwhile. Having plenty for the Bigsbys did not necessarily mean they had enough to share, and it was already risky enough having permission to eat, as needed, crops from their yields. Mr. Bigsby had fought hard with the Capitol for that permission, because the legality of preventing starvation was actually one that one would expect. The Capitol did not exactly specialize in ethical services. They had to make sure they were catered to first before they even remotely considered giving back to any part of the lower districts. 

"Well, I'd love to consider it. But, I'm not the one that can make that call," Matilda said. "Let me grab her father." She took off swiftly towards the back door, her purple and red floral dress rippling behind her. There was an overt plain beauty about her. Matilda's fortune dripped onto the floor with each step. Lorelai truly was a spitting image of her. 

Lorelai looked at the man. It was just her and him once again. She wasn't the best at catering to a stranger, but she did try her best. "You're right. It may look nice to have a blue dress for the reaping. And I do think I have a spare white one. In fact," Lorelai's mind traveled to her closet. "I've got several I could use. Does a little go a long way? How do I protect myself so... that doesn't happen?" She said, pointing at his arms. "Can you dye things? Maybe you could give us a demonstration?"  Lorelai thought she'd just hit the jackpot! Maybe she'd end the day with a blue dress. "I'm Lorelai, by the way. Lorelai Bigsby. And you are?"

☽LIA☾

[flint]

---Phthalo Whateley---

Well, I guess I've done it. It wasn't ever my intention, but I have successfully startled this woman half to death. She nearly dropped her sausage just at the sight of me. She gave me one of the most strained smiles I've ever seen before rescuing her daughter from talking about cabbage. "Oh, yes, the yields been plentiful this year. I'm sure the Capitol will be quite happy with this crop. In fact, used some today!" Are you... okay?" I don't laugh out loud at the woman's concern about my arms, but I'd say that was an act of will. I decide not to verbally acknowledge my indigo stained hands as I give her one of my most disarming smiles. "Thanks for asking, Mrs. Bigsby. I'm doing great! How could anyone not be on a day as lovely as this?" I gesture toward the window with an azure finger and enjoy the mix of pity and curiosity on this woman's face. People who squirm and stare while attempting to be polite are probably the most amusing folks I get to talk to and Mrs. Bigsby is one of the most awkwardly polite women I've met in a while. I'd almost be having fun if it wasn't for the sharp pang in my gut from being so close to good food and not being able to eat it--Not being able to eat it yet. This girl clearly wants that blue dress and I doubt Mrs. Bigsby is the type of mother who tells her daughter no often. Tonight I'll go to bed full as long as nothing goes horribly wrong.

As if to confirm what I already knew, the girl started practically begging her mother to give me food! "Yes, it does smell quite delicious! Mother, is it almost ready? Our friend here's come with a blue dye... and it does look quite beautiful. He's just looking for some sausage to take home, and he says he'll leave us with some. I'd definitely like that. Is there any to spare?" I truly can't believe my luck. The girl's eating out of my hand. Mrs. Bigsby's not quite as keen on the idea as her daughter. She kept her focus on the pot as though she was concerned that somehow the richest family in the District was a few sausages away from starvation. But she agreed to ask her husband and practically floated out of the kitchen. Even while working over a hot stove with her hair a bit of a mess, Mrs. Bigsby has an elegance about her that I can't help but admire. Now it's just me, the girl, and the food. I try not to be obvious about it, but I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at the food on the stove. I may know that this girl really wants a blue dress, but its probably also pretty clear to her that I want her food more than I let on.


It takes me a second to realize that she's looking at me. She doesn't let the silence between us last long: "You're right. It may look nice to have a blue dress for the Reaping. And I do think I have a spare white one. In fact I've got several I could use." Her cadence speeds up as she launches into a rapid litany of questions. It's great to see someone so interested in blue dye, especially someone as wealthy as the Bigsby girl. "Does a little go a long way? How do I protect myself so... that doesn't happen?" She gestures bluntly toward my hands. "Can you dye things? Maybe you could give us a demonstration? "I'm Lorelai, by the way. Lorelai Bigsby. And you are?" I smile again. I've been doing a lot of that today. Unlike Lorelai, I know my family business like the back of my hand and am more than willing to talk about it. But I start with an introduction. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Lorelai. I'm Phthalo." I want to extend a hand and dare her to shake it, but I think better of it and opt to politely nod at the girl. I untwist the red handkerchief I use as a makeshift sack and place it on the kitchen table. A small mound of midnight blue powder sits in the middle of the handkerchief. It's discolored the parts it touched to look more purple than red, but that'll wash out. "That'll last you a couple days before the color starts to fade from your pot. As long as you don't go hog wild dying everything in your closet, time will be what limits how much you can dye; not the amount of powder you use." "As for my hands," I chuckle a little at the way she broached the topic. "Rubber gloves'll work just fine to protect your skin. I don't use them so that I can have a better feel for the texture of the dye when I make it, but if you're just dyeing clothes, I don't think gloves will be an issue at all." She looks relieved to know that she won't have to sacrifice her completion to expand her wardrobe. "Now you do happen to be in the presence of the greatest dyer in District Eleven. If it wasn't for the people in Eight and their machines to handle large batches, I'd be the best in Panem. I'd be more than happy to show you how to color clothes, but live demos don't come free. I'd say a loaf of bread's probably a fair price for the opportunity to watch a master at work."

Maybe I'm overplaying my hand, but I don't think so. I bet all it takes to get Mr. Bigsby to part with some sausage and bread is his spoiled daughter's puppy dog eyes. If I'm lucky, the Bigsby's may even become repeat customers. I saw Mrs. Bigsby in a purple dress that must have cost a pretty penny. It'd probably even save them some money to dye their own clothes or have me do it rather than paying top dollar at the stores here in the District. In one last attempt to motivate Lorelai to convince her father to become a customer, I point a dark finger at her mock-accusingly. “But you have gotten ahead of yourself, Miss Lorelai. Before we can even talk about making you a blue dress for the Reaping, we’ve got to get your dad to buy some dye.” I flash one more toothy grin as we wait for the man with the money to come into the kitchen and decide if I’m eating good food tonight or if the family will have to make do with whatever I can get from that stingy printer.

[Skylar]

♉︎

LORELAI BIGSBY

Lorelai waited in anticipation of Mom and Dad to come back. A spoiled girl like Lorelai did not like spending much time where she was forced to interact with commoners. This usually meant she didn't interact with too many people. She'd just finished schooling a year prior and even then she had home tutors. Her exposure to the realities of District 11 were few and far between, but she was aware enough to know of its general status, and she knew that she was quite the privileged young lady. Even then, that didn't mean that she walked around graciously. No one is truly satisfied... Even when she got something she wanted, it was just a temporary satisfaction before she moved on. And perhaps that's why she liked to dance... there was always something new to learn, and in dance, progress meant more than just to move her body in a new way. For Lorelai Bigsby, it was a way of becoming more beautiful.

However, when it came to business things, she preferred representing herself under the wing of her father. He made things much easier on Lorelai and did most of the speaking for them. Irvin Bigsby spoke as if he had a chip on his shoulder, and many of that he did, but he knew how to speak confidently and clearly and with an elevation that could only be learned through direct Capitol contact.

Lorelai's nerves twisted and turned for a moment, sending a tickle through her body. Did she look okay? She hadn't intended on visitors. It was only lunchtime, after all. Normally this was break time for District 11. Even the employees would be taking a break soon. Lorelai had planned on meeting up with her recent eye-candy and saying hello. She'd done a terrible job of staying subtle but refused to make the first move, and confidently believed he'd be saying something soon... and then she thought of what he would think if he knew another boy her age had been invited into the house. Not only that, but that she had invited him into the house. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Lorelai. I'm Phthalo," He nodded at Lorelai and she gave a soft smile.

The people of District 11 normally were quite respectful. Panem's agricultural district, despite its vast expanse, was quite tight-knit. As Matilda continued to beckon for Irvin Bigsby on the back porch of the house, Lorelai and the visitor had shifted over towards the kitchen table, where he explained about his product.

Lorelai was quite mesmerized by his blue arms. While others would fawn over Lorelai's white kitchen curtains or the stained oak dining table, or even the gas stove, which had been well maintained over the last several years, Lorelai was caught up on the results of the man's hard work - a skin color which she'd truly only imagined in the Capitol. Irvin had mentioned many different types of Capitolites, and Lorelai briefly wondered if any of them had directly used his indigo dye to stain themselves. He unraveled his red handkerchief, revealing a fist full of blue powder. There wasn't a single leaf in it - the purest of dyes. For a moment, Lorelai wondered if this man was actually from District 8, the textile district.

He explained the nuances of the dye and Lorelai did her best to stay alert and pay attention, but she couldn't help but the glance out the windows of her dining room and notice her father walking in. A wave of relief washed over her, and she eased into the exchange. Honestly, she was sold. She continued to glance at the man's arms, and then to his face, and to his straw hat, and then back down to the dye. All he wanted was an extra loaf of bread. He was most definitely a beggar, but Lorelai was quite enamored by the man's passion. She was quick to find an attraction. The Reaping, although it was a topic of conversation and... although Lorelai would definitely love to wear a vivid indigo dress on the day of the Reaping, had pushed those thoughts to the back of her head.

At this point, it was just a matter of seeing something she wanted and making sure she got it.

“But you have gotten ahead of yourself, Miss Lorelai. Before we can even talk about making you a blue dress for the Reaping, we’ve got to get your dad to buy some dye.”

The sound of the sausage in the kitchen had died down, and the pot of cabbage sat in a vat of fatty warmth. The aromas lingered over the two people, both tied down to the immediacy of the moment. They both wanted something, and they would both benefit from it. Did he think she was pretty? I mean, surely that wasn't even a question. Everyone knew Lorelai was beautiful... That was the least of her concerns, anyway. "Yes, of course! I think that's just him now. I don't think it'll be a problem. Looks quite blue, really. The bluest of blues I've seen. I'm surprised I haven't seen you around here before. Then again, it seems like you're doing quite alright." Lorelai took a strand of her ponytail and ran her fingers through it, watching her mom and dad take the finalizing steps into the house, changing the atmosphere on a dime.

Irvin Bigsby walked in from the back door, promptly walking into the kitchen in a pair of denim overalls. His chest was red behind the scruff of his chest hair, and he wiped at this forehead with a large white handkerchief. Once he'd gathered himself and looked at the boy, "Blue arms, huh?" Irvin looked at the dye on the table, then made eye contact with Lorelai. She gave him a pleading look. "Alright, what are you asking for it?"

Matilda lingered behind, wiping off her apron of nonexistent food particles. She felt quite disheveled, and most definitely not prepared for the situation. She scurried off upstairs, trying to avoid it, feeling like she'd done her part.

"He's just looking for some food, Pa," Lorelai said, "He said he'll dye my dress for the Reaping for a loaf of bread and some sausage. Mom can just cook up some more, right?"

Irvin shrugged his shoulders, "Can't give you any unless you can walk the walk, son. How many are ya' needin' for? Lorelai's gonna look the best on Reaping Day so I'd be glad to let ya' help 'er out. But I don't think I'll let ya' leave with it unless we get started today." Irvin scratched at his head. His face remained dotted with sweat. The weather had definitely got a little hotter over the past couple of weeks. Mr. Bigsby welcomed that with open arms. He sweat out his fears of the Reaping, but they were resurfaced a little with his daughter's mention of it, and that's all that really came down to it.

"Okay, well. Phthalo, this is my dad," Lorelai said. "Irvin," Irvin iterated. "You just cool off, Dad. I'll grab the dress and I suppose we can use a trough outback? Phthalo, is that alright with you?"

☽LIA☾

[flint]

---Phthalo Whateley---

For a girl who asks so many questions, she didn’t seem to be all too interested in the answers.  As I gave her my sales pitch, her attention drifted from the dye on the table to the window, then back to me.  Or at least back to my skin.  Few workers in District Eleven would ever be considered for jobs as hand models.  Many of us are missing fingers, callused to a grotesque degree, or in my case, discolored.  For most people, my hands only hold interest for as long as it takes for them to figure out it’s because of my work.  But these Bigsby’s seem to be totally flabbergasted by the idea of a life of hard work changing the way you look.  

As I wrap up my spiel, she starts to play with her long, coffee-colored ponytail and glance furtively out the window for her father.  “I think that's just him now. I don't think it'll be a problem. Looks quite blue, really. The bluest of blues I've seen. I'm surprised I haven't seen you around here before. Then again, it seems like you're doing quite alright."  I explain that I just recently came to run my family farm.  “It’s not really a surprise that I haven’t been up to Bigsby Farms yet.  I just came to run the old Whateley farm a few months ago when my pop…” I take a breath and think of my once strong father laying in bed, too weak to sit up on his own.  I can’t bring myself to tell the whole truth here, so I finish with “retired.”  “If I recall, he’s done some business with your father in the past.”  Lorelai raised her eyebrows at my pause and for a second I worry she would inquire about his condition.  But I am rescued by the human mountain that is Irvin Bigsby.  

He’s easily half a foot taller than me and I doubt he’s ever missed a meal.  He wipes his brow and looks me up and down.  The first words out of his mouth are “Blue arms, huh?”  He isn’t intrigued like his daughter or frightened like his wife.  He’s just blunt, like someone noticing a squirrel in a tree.  Lorelai is basically doing my job for me.  She looks up at her father with big pouty puppy dog eyes.  I want to smile at the predicament, but I put forward my stoic business face.  I’m ready to make a deal.  “Alright, What are you asking for it?” I start to open my mouth to respond, when Lorelai beats me to the punch with what is perhaps the most pitiful ask I’ve ever heard.  "He's just looking for some food, Pa, he said he'll dye my dress for the Reaping for a loaf of bread and some sausage. Mom can just cook up some more, right?" For a second, I’m glad that Pop’s not here to see me let this spoiled little girl do my job for me.  But the man’s face softens and I begrudgingly recognize that she’s the best advocate I could ever ask for, even if she sees me as some sort of exotic pity project.

Irvin gives a dismissive shrug and addresses me instead of his daughter:  "Can't give you any unless you can walk the walk, son. How many are ya' needin' for? Lorelai's gonna look the best on Reaping Day so I'd be glad to let ya' help 'er out. But I don't think I'll let ya' leave with it unless we get started today."  I meet his eyes and confidently make my demand.  “Sir, I assure you I can walk the walk.  I can color your daughter’s dress by suppertime and set you up with your own dye vat if you want to make your own blue yarn or cloth.  All I’m asking for is a pound of sausage and a loaf of bread for my family to eat for dinner.  Your daughter will look like she’s wearing something straight from the shelves of the best boutique in the Capitol.”  He wipes the sweat from his brow again with his massive hand.  And before he can respond, his daughter makes up his mind for him by getting up to fetch a dress.  "Okay, well. Phthalo, this is my dad, You just cool off, Dad. I'll grab the dress and I suppose we can use a trough outback? Phthalo, is that alright with you?"  I can’t contain my happiness at what this girl has done.  She essentially played both parts of a business deal and got us both exactly what we wanted.  She may not know how to grow anything, but I think she’ll do fine running this farm someday.  Phew.  I’m going to eat well tonight. I allow myself to focus on the things my hunger had forced back in my mind like the way Lorelai seems to gracefully float from place to place instead of just walking like the  rest of us.  Before she leaves, I make sure she knows what to bring to dye her dress.  “Miss Lorelai, could you make sure to pick something cotton, satin, or silk.  And a big bucket or pot with a lid would be much better than a trough.  The dye doesn’t like open air.” 

She went upstairs, leaving me alone with her father.  He stared at me through narrowed eyes and introduced himself as Irvin.  I let the corners of my mouth raise into a tight half-smile. “It’s good to meet you Irvin.  I’m Phthalo.  I think you used to do business with my father, Hiram Whateley?  I run that old indigo farm now.  It’s a pleasure to do business with you.”  I want to make sure Irvin Bigsby understands the situation.  I’m my pop’s replacement--Bigsby’s new associate--his equal.  I don’t offer him the genteel honorifics I gave to his wife and daughter because even if he has more money than me, to me he is just Irvin.  I meet his eyes and hold out my hand.  He doesn’t hesitate to grab it hard and shake it.  I hear the faint crack of one of my knuckles popping under his  grip. He may be loaded, but deep down he’s still a hardworking farmer from District Eleven.  I can respect the hell out of that.  We hear delicate footsteps on the stairs and both turn our attention to Lorelai.  

[Skylar]

♉︎

LORELAI BIGSBY

Hmm... so he just took over his father's farm. Lorelai had never heard of him, although upon hearing that, she did faintly remember Mom and Dad talking about someone dropping out of the business recently. Lorelai was normally quite familiar with the different farming families of the district, but perhaps she'd been slacking off recently. The district was large and there were several, and she definitely didn't know them all. The hot sun blazed outside. The Bigsby employees went on their lunch break in the barn in the backyard. This was normally when Lorelai decided to take a most convenient walk, but duty called. She had the idea of an amazing blue dress and an easy Reaping in the back of her head. It was something she was willing to manifest.

She listened as Phthalo talked, eyeing his brown hair and blue eyes more and more frequently. He was, quite frankly, quite her type. Lorelai tossed around the idea of seeing him as a boyfriend or seeing him as a stranger and walked on that indecision as if it were a tightrope for a few moments. However, Lorelai was quite astute and self-aware despite her selfish disposition. Lorelai loved her life of District 11's luxury but was still quite aware of how spoiled she was. Just 30 years ago, when Irvin Bigsby was less-than-fortunate and the son of a struggling District 11 farmer, things were not so easy. Irvin Bigsby reminded Lorelai of it as frequently as he could. He reminded it of her daily, quite frankly. He was proud of what he'd built off of tried and true hard work. Grandpa Bigsby was still alive, and Lorelai visited him on holidays. In fact, she would probably visit him quite soon. Lorelai took notice of how steadfast and stern Phthalo remained as her father walked into the house. Irvin Bigsby offered a strong first impression, but Lorelai noticed that Phthalo carried a sense of frantic confidence that couldn't be ignored. He was getting what he wanted, after all. But that wasn't the focus. Lorelai was getting what she wanted, at the end of the day.

Lorelai took notice of the boy's smile, and did have inclination to get stuck in the curvature of it... how it showed just the smallest bit of teeth. How it caused wrinkles up near the boy's eyes. But, she did already have someone she was interested in, too! Lorelai was quite the flirt. Beauty was easy to find in her world, and it was all due in part to how beautiful she knew that she was.

In a flash, she'd escaped out the back door. The sun still hung quite high in the sky, and heat welcomed her in like the opposing end of a magnet. As much as someone could try to resist it, it was destiny. Lorelai welcomed the thick, humid air for opportunity. It was District 11, after all. Nothing that Lorelai wasn't used to! Irvin and Phthalo continued on. The lunch remained on the stove, untouched. Matilda was spending her time upstairs, pampering herself in the master bathroom. She had plans on coming back down... but she had been so caught off guard that she simply refuse*-d to be around a visitor when she wasn't prepared herself!

The employees of Bigsby Farms straggled along into the large barn out back. They tended to bring their lunches - if they had them. Although Bigsby Farms was quite influential and a key part of the District 11 economy, they paid their employees the minimum. Even then, most of the Bigsby employees appreciated the income. It was enough to get by, and Irvin Bigsby did his best to keep the farms thriving.

Lorelai continued down the white steps of the porch. He'd said some sort of pot with a lid on it... Was there anything like that? Lorelai stood at the bottom of the steps of her back porch. The sun beamed down onto her dark hair, and she furrowed her brows in deep thought. She had a lot of things to think about, but it still only took a moment to remember the silver feed buckets that Mom used out front.

Matilda Bigsby liked to feed the birds. They came and ate bird feed off of the feeding posts that Irvin had built many years ago. It was a commonality within District 11 to be starving, but the birds always seemed to have plenty to eat. Matilda Bigsby had even seen a mockingjay or two through the kitchen's windows Lorelai pondered over this as she walked around to the front of the house, finding the silver buckets in a shaded part next to the porch. The kitchen was just to the left and the buckets were still filled with bird seed. Matilda kept their lids on them so that the birds would use the feeders but... they were the most obvious thing to help Lorelai in this case.

Without a qualm, she approached one of the buckets and poured the seed on the ground. A sweaty dew formed on her forehead, which she annoying wiped at with her shoulder. She walked around the perimeter of the house, up the steps, and into the back door. "I did the best I could! This has a lid!" She sat the bucket onto the kitchen table next to the dye. "And off to get the dress! I'll be just a moment," Lorelai said, darting off again up the stairs and into her bedroom. Matilda had just closed the door to the bedroom as Lorelai reached the top of the stairs.

"Dad's allowing it! I'll have a blue dress for the reaping, Mama! Oh! I'm so excited. I'll be the most beautiful girl there for my last year." Matilda shuddered internally, but smiled back at Lorelai. The mere thought of Lorelai being eligible in the Reaping was enough to keep Matilda Bigsby up at night. Matilda continued on down the stairs. Her hair was brushed and pulled back into a bun, and she wore a red cotton dress. She felt much comfortable now that she'd taken a moment to get ready. 

Lorelai opened up the vast expanse of her closest and on the far right were several blouses and a few dresses that were white. Lorelai grabbed the one she'd always wanted to wear but just tossed aside for special occasions... like the wedding she'd went to just a year or so ago for Matilda's friend. Lorelai draped the white, silken dress over her right arm - turning on her heel and darting down the stairs just moments after Matilda. 

"Alright! I've got the dress." Lorelai handed the dress over to Phthalo, feeling comfortable in the fact that even if his hands were something to be wary of, that her dress was meant to be the same color anyway. "Mom, can you grab him a burlap full of sausage and a loaf of bread? We'll probably need another rope cooked..." Lorelai added. Matilda raised her eyebrow as if she were going to object but she dipped her head and turned on her heel to get a new rope of sausage from storage, and to fill up a burlap sack with a loaf of handbaked bread and a small rope of smoked sausage. Lorelai's heart beat quickly, anticipating how the dress were to look. There was a quite a lot going on in her head, quite frankly, and she was doing her best to stay satisfied through one things at a time. 

☽LIA☾

[flint]

Lorelai returns in a flash with a white silk dress and a large silver bucket.  She instructs her mother to put another pound of sausage in the pan.  My heart skips a beat when Mrs. Bigsby bows her head obediently and begins preparing dinner for my family.  Now I’m in business.  I take the silver bucket into the kitchen and ask Mrs. Bigsby for permission to fill it in the sink.  I fill the bucket with the hottest water I can handle and cautiously place the lid on so as not to spill anything in the house.  I also get a mason jar and lid from the kitchen.

“Miss Lorelai, perhaps it would be best for me to teach you how to dye your dress outside.  The last thing I’d want is to stain something in your beautiful home."  As I speak, I head out to the front yard with the bucket, dye, and jar.  As I walk, I let my mind wander to the dress I’m going to color for the Bigsby girl.  It’s a pretty gown made of high quality silk.  I know it will pick up indigo very well, so the dress is essentially a blank canvas.  I can make it look like anything and I’m starting to really look forward to making something beautiful to make Lorelai stand out at the reaping.  In the off chance that her name is drawn, maybe the sponsors would be willing to donate to the girl who wears my artwork.

I set up the bucket on her front lawn and hang my shirt on the bannister of her porch so that if I spill dye it’ll be on my ratty grey tank top instead of on something I paid to bring back from District Eight.  The sun beats down on my shoulders as I start my craft.  I walk Lorelai through the process, but I speak and work quickly to ensure she’ll never be as proficient as I am.  Today, I’m more of a performer than a teacher. First I mix hot water with a vial of white powder I keep in my pocket in the mason jar.  “Whenever I sell you dye, I’ll throw in some of my special priming powder for free.  You’ll want to mix in just enough that it stings your finger when you dip it in the jar.”  I try to make the priming powder sound like something special I’d give her for free, but it’s really just equal parts lye and cleaning soda.  I give the mixture a few seconds to get a little cloudy before I add the indigo and seal the jar.  I give it a good shake like a bartender making a cocktail and even flip the jar around my hand for a little added flair.  I tell myself it’s just because I want to impress a client, but I’m also showing off for a pretty girl.  By the time I finish mixing the dye, I’ve got a jar full of a dark green fluid with a thick layer of bright turquoise foam on top.  I reassure the girl that the sickly greenish dye will turn blue when the dress dries, but it looks like she might be beginning to doubt.

I thrust the jar into the bucket of hot water and untwist the lid, letting the dye diffuse into the makeshift vat. When I withdraw the jar, I catch a glimpse of the dark clouds growing in the bucket and take a few quick sniffs of the mixture to make sure it smells just right.  I catch the sour, chemical scent of fermenting indigo that my nose is trained to check for before sealing the lid.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lorelai flinch a little, and tease her a bit.  “You don’t have a weak stomach, do you Miss Lorelai?”  I actually laugh out loud at the thought of her ever using the vat I’m setting up.  

I’ve got an image in my mind of the finished dress.  I delicately fold it into little triangles and wrap it around the outside of the mason jar, using bits of twine to tie the dress in place.  As the layers of fabric get closer to the glass jar, they will pick up less dye with each dipping, so I can show off the full range of my top quality indigo.  By the time I’m finished folding, the vat’s matured into a bucket of black sludge.  The foam on top is stiff crackly.  The water is heavy with every bit of the pigment from my powder.  I show Lorelai so she knows what it looks like when it’s ready.  I gently place the jar and dress into the vat and seal the lid.

“Simple as that, Miss Lorelai.” I say to the girl, even though I know full well that there is nothing simple about anything I’ve just done.  We’ve got a few minutes to leave the dress to soak, so I give her a chance for clarification.  “Any questions?”

[Skylar]

♉︎

LORELAI BIGSBY

Lorelai watches with her hands folded, looking at Phthalo navigate his way around the situation with efficiency and manners. District 11 citizens were either dumber than a box of rocks or well mannered and polite, and Phthalo was most definitely not dumb. In fact, Lorelai was quite impressed by the boy's confidence. She nodded as he asked to go outside, and Lorelai saw Irvin raise his eyebrows as if to show that he was receptive of Phthalo's consideration.

Of course, it only made sense once Lorelai and Phthalo had actually made it outside. Lorelai and Phthalo moved just off of the back porch. Phthalo sat the pot down and Lorelai glanced around to the vast expanse of her farm. She saw the edge of the farm just where a patch of trees started. A few people stood out like tiny specks in Lorelai's view. She wondered if one of them was the eye candy she'd been fawning over the past couple of weeks and then looked at Phthalo. His face was rigid and his gumption was evident as he explained his process. Lorelai was not alert. Most of the time, her thoughts were on one thing at a time. Lorelai got a tad nervous once she'd decided to center in on the dying of her dress. She was going to wear this at the reaping... it could be one of the last things she ever wore, and she was just letting a commoner do this?

But then again, she didn't have to wear it. She watched as Phthalo pulled out a vial of white powder and pulled it into the mixture. Curiously, she listened. “Whenever I sell you dye, I’ll throw in some of my special priming powder for free. You’ll want to mix in just enough that it stings your finger when you dip it in the jar,” he said, before putting on the lid and giving the jar a few good shakes. It was actually quite mesmerizing to watch. Normally, Lorelai's idea of farm work was being bent over in a field or using some long tool to dig up the earth. That's what she'd spent her life growing up around. Briefly, Lorelai thought back to earlier days, when she was little. Bigsby Farms did not gain wealth until Irvin Bigsby had taken its reigns. It was a small farm on the edge of the District. Plenty of land but Vernon Bigsby did not know how to monopolize, and he was most definitely not a businessman. Irvin knew what it meant to struggle, and perhaps he could sense Phthalo was in need.

Lorelai knew that people didn't come asking for food just because it smelled good. She'd never had to deal with the problem but it only made sense to her. She looked on to Phthalo with wide eyes, tracing her way around the edges of his face - she paused on the darkness of his brows, his passionate gaze. His sunhat kept his face shaded, and Lorelai envied him for just a moment. It definitely had heated up in the last month and today's sun beamed down on the back of Lorelai's head and shoulders like an oven. She reassured herself not to be too upset because he was doing something for her after all. Satisfaction was hard to come by in Lorelai's world, though. Something could always be better.

But, this definitely the best dye job she'd ever witnessed.

She was a little confused by the mixture in the jar and gave a slightly concerned look as he dipped the jar into the vat and opened it. Immediately the water took on the mixture and Lorelai was actually quite mesmerized for a moment. She remained silent, graceful, and stoic. She preferred being an image of beauty, not a voice of it. 

In moments, the mixture emitted quite a sour and putrid smell. Lorelai visibly winced as Phthalo sniffed it, like a cook in a kitchen would sniff a broth. She prayed he didn't sip it. Thankfully, he didn't. “You don’t have a weak stomach, do you Miss Lorelai?” Lorelai lifted her right hand, signaling that her stomach was just a little weak. He laughed and Lorelai raised an eyebrow. He couldn't just laugh at her like that! There was a part of her that lit up, though, seeing his smile. 

Lorelai continued to watch as Phthalo folded her dress and dipped his arms deep into the vat, and it was most clearly evident that his blue arms were nothing to be alarmed about. In fact, maybe they were almost cool? Eventually, the dye turned to an ugly dark mixture. Phthalo seals the lid and they move inside, where Matilda is busy cooking the sausage. Irvin was out of the picture, upstairs taking a much needed heated shower. Matilda checked the cabbage, giving it a few stirs. Upon Lorelai and Phthalo's entry, she turned and looked at them, feeling much better now that she'd gotten herself fixed up.

"Well, how's the dress?" she asked, smiling at the two of them. "Your father's upstairs. Still more work to do, but," she looked at Phthalo, "he likes to keep himself decent. It'll probably be another 10 minutes or so." 

Lorelai gave a soft smile and made eye contact with her mother. They communicated in glances in the moment, both offering a satisfied look. Matilda was clearly carrying some nervousness with her though. In days, Lorelai could be reaped. It was a fear that dripped from the ceiling... a fear that poured through the water faucets. It was quite unavoidable, really. 

"I do appreciate what you're doing, Phthalo. I just hope the dress turns out the way I'd like! May I ask how old you are? What'll you be wearing to the Reaping?" Lorelai asked, pondering. "Will we be matching? Or do you try to stay away from the blue... since it seems like you've already gotten enough!" Lorelai pointed at Phthalo's arms as they stood at the entryway into the kitchen. It was a little awkward, and Lorelai navigated the encounter as smoothly as she could. There was quite a lot weighing on her brain. "If you'd like, maybe Mom could make you a meal here while the dress sits? If you'd like to take a seat," she said, moving to a chair on the end of the dining room table. She sat; the kitchen had an extension just for the shape of a table. Three windows with white blinds were next to the kitchen table, and Matilda had raised the blinds, allowing the light of the day to seep into the kitchen just a little bit.

For just a moment, she imagined it as a date... and then shook the thought from her head. Sometimes fate did work in mysterious ways, but Lorelai was also known to read into things a little too much.

"Okay, well. Phthalo, this is my dad," Lorelai said. "Irvin," Irvin iterated. "You just cool off, Dad. I'll grab the dress and I suppose we can use a trough outback? Phthalo, is that alright with you?"

☽LIA☾