Shackled in My Embrace // [Glamour/Peridot]

There was an intolerable party ranging on outside his window, sparked most likely by a cannon sounding off somewhere in the distance. Though in reality, the Capitol was a never ending luxurious party, drizzled in chocolate fountains and sparkling ciders. It'd been a year or two since Peri had even bothered to indulge himself in the materialistic lifestyle, a deeply embedded irony washed over him at the thought - a boy who owns a shop entirely devoted to indulging in luxury, refusing to play with the best. But it was nothing new, the lavish, the rampant, the boisterous had never really appealed all that much surly District One boy. For all intents and purposes, he could have been just as happy living in a lower District.

The large fields of Eight still filled his dreams: vibrant, domestic, and wild; the sullen graves of the Wolfe siblings stayed tattooed to the inside of his eyelids. It'd been a rough few years, there was no denying. What was once a slim and critiqued physique of a career had barely been touched upon since leaving the arena, little scratches and cuts still lined his back and torso, ultimately he had been luckier than some. His old ragged and shaggy hair was carelessly chopped off into short slices of different lengths, whilst he hardly touched his growing facial hair, it added a suave darker look to the historically innocent victor. If it hadn't been for his stylist team, Peri would surely look homeless. Topaz had almost taken off since meeting her husband, understandably so; the two had never been all that close, there was no question in Peri's mind that it had been Kiera who she had wanted to bring home. The two had split duties long enough - but ultimately when Opal had won, the two had dumped their responsibilities onto the newer victor.

There was a small itch of guilt that tore at his stomach, having left Opal all alone to deal with the past couple years tributes. Topaz had an excuse with the children, but he could only chalk up his excuse to laze and impatience. There just never seemed to be the fire he was looking for in their eyes, so impressionable, even the trained ones, yet so overtly unaware. It took everything in him not to kick at their faces on the train ride over to the Capitol. This year had been no different. Young Charlotte was hot headed with little to no viable skills that would take her in the arena, and Jem reminded Peri a little too much of Charm who he had to beg not to volunteer yet again to go into the arena. A little too close to home. The itch of guilt often got buried anyways, underneath a blanket of sorrow and old regrets, it wasn't so hard to keep those buried nowadays. Opal did much better in the long run, she was much more generous and understanding. Peri hadn't gotten a single ounce of help from Topaz and he had won, why not give his tributes the rough treatment?

Decidedly he took the graveyard shifts, let the girl sleep soundly while the tributes did. There was hardly any hunters this year. Quite a few lunatics, some infighting amongst alliances. The arena's theme was cringeworthy, tributes dressed to the nines in decorative west outfits, it had hardly come to a surprise to him considering who was in charge. Flicking the lid of his lighter, he gently brushed the edge of the cigarette clasped between his lips. It was hard to sleep at any point with the constant celebration of death; however morbid it was, he couldn't help but laugh at their gratification, they knew little of what it was to lose a brother or sister, and he slept easy with that thought.

He spent most of his days in this haze, a demure state hidden away from the vicious limelight. There was no need for him to read any headlines about possible threesomes between himself, Lethe, and her new husband, or the never ending debate about his sexuality - to who was it important? Peri let the smoke hang in his mouth longer than meant, the clouds tickling and clawing at his palettes, singeing his lungs in nicotine, then letting it burst in one solemn explosion. It was a simple smoke signal to the stars saying, 'Hello Aria, hope all is well.'

The gentle tap hardly startled him, dissatisfied, perhaps - this was always his alone time, that was clear between all the victors. He swivelled around in his leather bound chair and glared towards the larger man, dressed as if a circus freak. "I'd say I've seen twenty-three or so - twenty-eight? Just how many have you killed this year -" Peri rustled himself around in his seat, not wanting to look too casual or at east in the presence of, "Mr. Kinkade." He spat the syllables out like poison, though he was sure they bounced off the man like rubber. Finally gathering to his feet, Peri inhaled his sighs and walked closer to the doorway, coming to a halt in the middle of the room. Seldom wearing more than a simple black t-shirt, he looked vastly underdressed in comparison to his guest. "To what do I owe this most honoured visit?" Sticking his arms out to his side, as to say, here I am! He was sure his little snaps at the Gamemaker did no damage, but it made him feel golden. "Come to bathe in the glory of your once great victor?"