Restaurant Interview [NAOMI BELL/ARROWS]

[Skylar]

rumor scriba

Capitolites sat around them, taking quick and careless bites of luxurious foods. The portions were small, the personalities were big. The lighting was bright but every table had a dimming cover above it, blocking light directly to the table. This way, the restaurant didn’t seem too ‘sterile.’ Rumor’s hair today was a chartreuse, and as bright as it was, she still fit in with the crowd. Her neon green lips sipped water through a matching metallic green straw. Rumor had taken it upon herself to carry an assortment of utensils in her bag that corresponded with her current style color – it changed every so often whenever Rumor decided she wanted a different one. But still, she did not stand out because of her appearance. In fact, Naomi Bell stood out much more starkly. Naomi was subdued, and had a classic beauty - one that could not be fostered through different applicators and face lifting injections. Rumor stood out in other ways. Her viciousness and determination were the biggest factors, coupled with a complete disregard to anyone except for herself. Now, this wasn’t uncommon to find in the Capitol either, but Rumor liked to take it to the next level, and she’d made it work for her.

If she hadn’t been so ruthless, and perhaps… a little bit promiscuous, she probably wouldn’t be sitting at a table for a lunch interview with Naomi, but here she was. Rumor took a bite of her lunch, quickly chomping through the juicy explosion of cheese and chives that were stuffed inside of the mushroom. Apparently, these had come from District 7. This restaurant was a bit nicer than most, and had a direct connection to the Districts. The menu stated where the ingredients came from, and recently Rumor had been spending some time learning about the tributes of District 7. Especially the boy that was known as Alphabet. She’d already overheard people mentioning that it was such a great idea to have an extravagant name like that. “His parents must have been touched by a Capitolite,” Rumor had heard someone say.

After swallowing the mushroom, Rumor took another sip of water and opened up her note pad. Below the scribble of the previous pedestrian interviews she’d gotten today, she wrote NAOMI in big letters and underlined her name. She already had an idea of the ground that she wanted to cover, and she took no time getting started.

“So, Naomi. Thanks for meeting me,” she said, using a hand to flip her hair as if it were going to lay behind her shoulder. It was shoulder length, though, and just moved back to where it was originally. “Just give me an idea of what Panem can expect. Something as simple as what you’ve got on today? Or maybe a bit more extravagant? Going for something more practical?” Rumor shifted in her seat as she looked onwards to Naomi’s soft face.

[Arrows]

Naomi Bell

    Pristine.

    There is no question to the quality of the stitches or the silk which sews into existence their abnormality. Every perfected piece of clothing carefully wrapped in ribbons of plastic and folds of fine cloth. They are the gems of the Game Makers' genius and the amethysts of Naomi's architecture. Each District defined by slight stems of colors, yet all unified in one final fixated statement: this fashion is that of the future. A fashion which in idea alone exists merely as mental muddiness, but in actuality has been brought forth from such folly by the Heads of this year's Games. Naomi knows not of what those who will wear these clothes shall find within their dome, but only that they will bring with them an unforeseen movement into tomorrow. A movement, she has seen to personally through each and every stitch. 

    "Blue light."

    Her voice is sharp like the end of a sewing needle, yet delicate like the thread that it pulls. A nearby apprentice immediately stops steaming a section of ribbon in order to adhere to his master's call. He is wise, although softness lies in the lacing of Naomi's voice, her temper is dangerous to ignite. A flick of electricity, and a portable light of blue showers over the section Naomi is stationed at. Despite the speed of the assistance, another factor spurs fuel into flames. Anguish followed by a flood of irritation radiates across Naomi's face. Her hands heave against the sides of the station as her figure finds footing from her chair. In a final fit of annoyance, a pair of glasses is flung across the room with a small shattering sound.

    Heads hang down, silence settles.

    A silence solely broken only by a voice of all sharpened needle and no thread.

    "It is a sea blue, not baby blue. Whoever did this, better manage to fix the mess without destroying my work by the time I'm back. If not, then don't let me even catch sight of you here tomorrow."

    Cold heels echo from their clanking edges. She stops.

    "Allow me to clarify, I am well aware of who is at fault. Fix it!"

    She walks out of the studio, the doors slide smoothly shut enclosing the storm she has stirred within.

    In another room, a flurry of frenzied avoxes rush around Naomi. One applies make up, one fixes her hair, and one slips her into a sleek fitting red dress. She spends all of ten minutes in the room before brushing them off and making her way with a tube of red lipstick towards her waiting ride. Naomi has always been notorious for pushing matters up to the last possible second. However, this interview isn't all that high on her current list of priorities. The Games are just around the corner and she still has several sets of outfits to finish.

    One moment of harsh brakes and an icy stare later, Naomi is walking through the doors of the restaurant. She is familiar with it, she used to spend Saturdays eating here with her fellow style students. Her head revels for a moment in the aromas of her past, a sigh slipping from between her lips. A slight snort follows, she wouldn't want go back even if someone paid her. 

    Finding the face of Rumor is far from challenging, she fully envelops the fashion of their silver city. Naomi slides softly into the seat across from her placing a small black purse on the table. As quickly as she finds her seat, Naomi finds herself under pen. Taking a finger to flag down a nearby waiter, she nearly misses what the question even is.

    "Rumor, it's a pleasure. But at the very least, wait until I can get my hands on some wine."

    The waiter arrives seconds later. 

    "A glass of the house Merlot, please."

    The waiter leaves and for a moment there is silence, obviously the creation of Naomi's words. So, she decides to simply answer the hungry interviewer. After all, her wine is coming. 

    "What I wear is in no correlation to my work, as anyone who wears anything from my fashion line knows." Naomi's inner voice gives her a bit of a glare, she can take down her sass level a notch. "As I'm sure you are aware, I can't give you anything specific. But I can tell you that my work these Games is taking a good bit of time. Whether that is extravagance or my perfectionism, I can't say for certain."

    A single glass of red wine finds its place in Naomi's hands. A smile pursing her lips as she takes her first sip. The flavors flourish in a parade like the patches in her studio. 

    "Lovely."