cat's eye [stella 84th]

[alex 🐺]

s t e l l a   b l a k e s l e y.

The gold chain around her neck felt like a brand, a burn, and she couldn’t wait to get it off. She tugged at it, afraid to break the metal but like talons clawing at her throat, she needed to breathe. The wings were heavy and they weighed her down.

The stylists had gotten some idea about angels and demons, heaven and hell, black and white and it was fitting, in its own fucked up, symbolic way. At least the theme wasn’t coal or fire. That had been far too played out.

Because weren’t they all just fallen angels? Hadn’t they ripped their own souls out to come out of the Games alive? Hadn’t they fallen into the pit and branded themselves as hell’s servant to come home? Hadn’t they pleaded for mercy or heard those same pleas for days in their arenas?

She was no angel, nor was she the devil. She was a girl who had gotten lucky, simple as that. As the cameras flashed and the Capitolites threw kisses and roses their way once the parade had finished, Stella walked to one of the many boxes, filled with people whose names she hadn’t bothered to remember.

They all knew hers though. They wouldn’t ever forget her. She was a living billboard, a walking advertisement for their opulence, for their gluttony, for their greed, for their bloodlust. No amount of white could ever wash the black and red off of her. She had tried. She had tried for years.

She plucked a feather from her wings, presenting it to Ex, who traded her for a champagne flute.

“I prefer you in crimson horns, if I’m being honest,” Ex laughs, throwing the feather away with a laugh as Stella uses her free hand to pull the older blonde towards her, capturing her lips in a kiss that betrayed the white that she was wearing.

She was partial to black anyway. Or red.

“I’ll be back,” Stella whispered to Ex as she pulled away, leaving another kiss on her cheek. A group of potential sponsors by the window were watching her closely and she took a deep breath, glancing towards Teddy and Mack who were reclining on a couch together with a nod.

Time to go sell their souls yet again in the name of salvation for one of the chosen.