bella noche | quest & vennera

[fireflyz]

She had to admit that she was a bit startled by the vigor with which Quest shook her hand, but she quickly adjusted and gave her hand a strong squeeze before releasing. "You know, I thought you looked familiar, I don't know what it was that gives it away. Not the freckles, though they're cute."

Vennera absently grazed a hand against her cheek, no longer able to conceal the smile that tugged on her lips. Quest took another sip and leaned in, and Vennera found herself mirroring the redhead. "You know, I had your sister's - or are you cousins? Whatever, doesn't fuckin' matter - name up on the chalkboard and I didn't give her the best odds in the Deadpool, but she sure as hell proved me wrong."

"Yeah, it was a shock to some of us too," she commented. She wasn't sure how she felt about complete strangers from another district betting on Ridley, but they certainly weren't the only ones, not to mention the fact that her own family had likely stacked the odds against her. "Even with the highest training score you could still lose. Everything's completely random."

Through her studies, Vennera had become accustomed to sorting through numbers in her head. She could wager guesses at how likely something was to happen, but that was usually when it came to card games and the like. 52 cards, 13 in each suit, equal probability of drawing each of them. But the games were different - 24 tributes, 23 opportunities to die without counting mutts or natural disasters, probably thousands of different permutations when it came to betting who would place where. It was essentially like throwing darts to pick a victor.

Quest finished her drink and observed the crowd, and Vennera observed her. Her eyes traced the scars that lined Quest's face, and she wondered how they had gotten there, but didn't dare ask.

The orchestra switched to a more up-tempo tune, the sound of brass swelling throughout the venue. "You thinking about getting on that dance floor anytime soon?" Quest ventured, and Vennera paused for a moment. She was not a dancer in the slightest - she tripped over her own feet more than she remained upright - but anything to get her out of this chair would be worth it, and she could sense a burning curiosity about her companion blooming within.

"I think the odds are pretty good, Hertz," she responded, standing and smoothing down her dress. "After you."

marguerite harvard d2a (zori)

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I was a sucker for getting a girl to smile. Blame it on the alcohol, or the fact that I’m not tending bar tonight, but there’s something almost pleasant about all of this. It’s no wonder the asshats in the capitol couldn’t understand why people were willing to blow themselves up to get a chance for an ounce of this; they lived like this all the time, and I wasn’t dumb enough to say I didn’t want to, too. Freedom and justice were nice, but freedom could be bought and justice never brought back what’d been lost.

‘Yeah, it was a shock to some of us, too,’ She remarks as though there wasn’t a total confidence in her cousin’s abilities. I’d warmed up to her cousin by the end of the games. We kept the games on the television in the bar, that way it made it easier for quick side-bets to pop up (who’s going to fuck, who’s the first to go naked, or crazy all were popular). ‘Even with the highest training score you could still lose. Everything's completely random.’

I reach past Venn to grab another champagne flute from a passing tray. I let the bubbles fizz within my throat, all the while my mind wanders. I see Shy and I lying in the forest of the arena, and try to shake off the thought. No one could’ve predicted the girl with the worst score and the rag tag kid from two could beat the odds and reach the top ten, but then, it’d been a little bit more than luck.

I want to open my mouth and tell her she doesn’t have any idea what it’s like, and the anger, raw and real sits stirring in my stomach. How hard it was dragging Shy’s ass around the arena, or seeing Fiona have her eye knifed out. I carry it better than most of them, but it still weighs you down.

But I remember sitting with Dr. Lindsey during our sessions back in six, think about the work books, that what she’s saying isn’t meant to be hurtful, it’s that she doesn’t know. And I don’t have a thing to prove about how tough I am, or who I want to be. Right now is about two girls sipping drinks and finding a sliver of happiness on the dance floor. And maybe, I think, that in four years I’m not all that different, but at the same time, miles away from the woman I was.

‘I think the odds are pretty good, Hertz,’ She says and I smile all toothy and stupid. ‘After you.’

“Well damn,” I push back out of my chair, and stand, hands folded over my chest. I offer a hand to help, and make a move toward the dance floor. I pause and tap my foot in time. “Now promise me one thing, will you, Venn?” I turn back to her slowly, offering up my hands, ready to lead. I let my voice come out all quiet, just for her.

“Don’t worry what we look like, what we’re doing? Just feel the music and dance. I promise I’m the only one that’s going to be watching, and I’m sure I’m going to like what I see.”

[fireflyz]

"Now promise me one thing, will you Venn?"

The words tumbled over her a bit uneasily, and she could feel her hands shaking as she reached for Quest's own. "And what's that?" she asked softly, slowly raising her eyes to meet her companion's.

She'd been asked to keep promises before, but as is custom for someone who places work and ambition over love, they would crumble away like leaves in the wind. Vennera doubted that Quest had so much to ask of her when they had just met, but still the fear of disappointing the woman with the bright red hair and toothy smile stirred within her gut.

"Don't worry what we look like, what we're doing," Quest told her. "Just feel the music and dance. I promise I'm the only one that's going to be watching, and I'm sure I'm going to like what I see."

It was hard not to trust Quest when she said things like that, and Vennera slowly drew in a breath as she released the tension from her muscles. "Okay," she said airily, allowing her movements to be shaped by Quest's own. Almost immediately, it became apparent that they were doing a dance that wasn't popular in One, let alone the Capitol. Her partner moved quickly and almost effortlessly, and Vennera tried not to make it so obvious that she was struggling to keep up. At a slight lull in their routine, she stole a glance at Quest's feet and noted the rhythmic movements; she'd shuffle a few times to the left and then right before guiding Vennera further onto the dance floor. She couldn't quite copy the footwork, but she at least tried to stay on the same side.

In spite of her confusion, Vennera met Quest with a full grin and quipped, "I suppose you go dancing often."

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

It was a bit of a weird thing to ask, especially a girl I didn’t know. But the truth was I found that a lot of them, even in district six, had a certain fear of what other people were thinking when they danced. You could tell in that they shifted their eyes to those around them, or refused altogether, thinking that because you’d never learned how meant that you couldn’t. It’s fair enough, having the self-consciousness. Not like you could completely eliminate it (or that you should).

Music had always been the most important part of my life, and I liked to think half of my attitude came from embracing what it’d brought to me. I could still remember the first time Wilfred took me to a warehouse party, and told me the same thing. Well, maybe in a more colorful way (don’t fucking look at what everyone else doing!). Music was meant to be expressed, not admired. And whether that meant following the same two-step everyone else was taught or throwing your body around like a mad woman, well, that was what you had to do.

‘I suppose you go dancing often,’ She says, her steps following my own. We’re not half bad, circling our way past some of the peacekeepers in their spats and dresses. She was light on her feet, graceful. And me? I knew exactly what I wanted, or that I could make it up as I went along.

“The best things in life happen while you’re dancing,” I say with a grin. It’s a half too sweet, but I don’t regret saying it. It made me think of the days before the games, when I was a nobody, just a girl that liked to sneak into basement parties and dance until sunrise. A girl that’d known there was freedom there, a community that cared a lot less about how they looked than what was playing.

I turn on my heel and pull her in a bit closer, still smiling.

“Before the games, I used to collect all sorts of music – contraband, things folks had made in basements and all that,” Wilfred called me a hoarder when he saw my collection in my room, but then, his was at least twice the size of mine. “I put some of them in the jukebox of my bar. And JANET, well – she can play almost anything I want.”

The song fades, and a I pull back to give a little bow.

“You’re not half bad yourself. They teach you that in one, or just something you like?”

[fireflyz]

No, they didn’t teach her this in One.

Sometimes they’d dance in gym class or in preparation for social events, but it was always calculated. At school, they’d assign partners who would often put more muscle into leaning away from each other than learning the routine, and for dinners and cotillions and parties - well. That was as emotionless as it got. People swayed and spun around each other without stopping to look at the person in front of them if they didn’t already know each other (and even if they did).

But here she was, seeing Quest Hertz, doing more than just plain spinning, as far from emotionless as she can get. When Quest told her about the jukebox at her bar, and Vennera giggled like she was intoxicated. ”I’ve got contraband too,” she whispered. ”But it’s more of the educational kind than the fun kind. I’d love to have music.”

The jazz song slowly began to transition into another, slower tune, and their dance was over. She curtsied in response to her companion’s bow, and remarked, ”Even if they taught us that in One I don’t think it would have the same spirit that you do.”

Vennera found herself wanting to be close to Quest again, but she couldn’t bring herself to make that step. So she opted to use her words instead.

”In fact, I don’t think someone like you could really be replicated anywhere else.”

[marguerite harvard d2a (zori)]

I can’t remember the last time that I felt like this. Venn talks about contraband and I’m lost looking at her eyes, the way they reflect the light from overhead. How the dress suits her, but better than that she seems to stand out from all the noise and sound, right in front of me. It makes me think about the work I’ve put in to get here. Even if the other eightieth tributes and I are being paraded around as props, they hadn’t stopped me from living. If anything, they were dumb enough to give me a second chance.

When the music fades, she speaks, and it comes out like honey and molasses,

‘Even if they taught us that in One I don’t think it would have the same spirit that you do.’

There could’ve been fireworks shooting right up out of the ground then, like the cartoons Ether and I used to watch as kids. She’s got something about her, her person, that draws me closer, makes me want to know what she’s thinking. The airy laugh she lets out feels buoyant, like it could lift the both of us up.

‘In fact, I don’t think someone like you could really be replicated anywhere else,’ She goes on, and I let out a flush of air through my nose, a contained little laugh. I glance down at the floor and try not to flush. It wasn’t like a girl hadn’t given me a compliment before. Just felt a little different here, right now. Even still, I need a minute to collect, and somehow, it makes it all the more wonderful, listening to the quiet and watching her.

“That’s about the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me,” I say with a grin. “Even better that it’s coming from you.”

I’m all quiet then. I step closer to her, one hand coming around her waist, the other finding her hand again. My suit brushes her dress and I lean in, close enough that she could rest her head, if she wanted.

The music starts again, slower. 

“Hey,” I lean in to whisper, moving in time, “I can’t stop thinking about how much I’d like to kiss you right now.”