a life spent// poria oneshot

Poria frowned at the backroom of her store. All the new tributes merchandise had come in today and she could not make sense of it. All the boxes were labeled in a font she could not read and the floor was littered with packing peanuts and bubble wrap.

I should really get an avox she thought to herself, kicking her way through the mess. She yanked open a box and pulled out a glass Renee Perdis collector's cup. She frowned at the young tributes' face, not because of her early death in the games but for the reason that no one would want to buy the first to fall's collector's item. It was the top eight that really made her money. She dropped it back in the box with the rest of the cups covered in that smiling face.

Early on in the games was always a nightmare. The poor woman was not sure which tribute was popular and which one wasn't, not to mention she was still hung up on the tributes from the past games. It was becoming harder and harder for her to follow all the names and faces but her shop insisted she would. She couldn't just sell Topaz wigs for the rest of her life, for one thing they were going out of style. She self consciously touched her own bright red hair, worried that her own look was becoming obsolete. Perhaps she should glue a beard on like that Daniel Tate kid from District Seven. Speaking of which, she should definitely order more things with his handsome face on it. She silently hoped the boy would win so she cold get a chance at that hunk of man.

The freshly added name to her spine had finally healed. Atticus Manor, quite a handsome name for a handsome boy. She would have to pay him a visit when he got a little older.

Ignoring the mess of her storage room, Poria stepped into her show room. It was early in the morning so most Capitolites were still in bed. Poria was always early to rise, especially with her shop in full swing. Walking among the merchandise she straightened outfits on hangers, and rearranged displays that were disturbed the day before.

Looking up at the wall, she studied the large "Victors in Love" posters hanging over the reenactment kits. All the former tributes holding each other (a quick computer program click away really. Poria had discovered a few months ago and she could easily slip her own face into the photos pretending it was her that was being held) and just generally being in love.

The woman frowned at the posters. She'd been in many a victor's bed but never their heart. She hadn't been in anyone's heart really. Her eyes dropped from the wall and studied the floor and her painted pink toenails peeping out from her bright orange pumps. She had spent so much time and effort into this store, into her tattoos- into this lifestyle... she hadn't...

Waving the thought away she crossed the show floor again to the back room. Looking into the small mirror hung in there. Looking at her reflection she saw all the junk she had slapped on. The thick neon eyeshadow, the dark eyeliner ringing her eyes. All the mascara weighing down her glued on eyelashes. A shaky hand reached up and pulled her red wig from her head. Thin brown hair dyed a strange auburn color stood in its place. It was short and slicked back.

When was the last time she dated someone? Had she spent all her life chasing victors who wouldn't even give her the time of day?

Was she wasting her life?

Poria slipped her wig back on, tugging it into place and checking it in the mirror.

It was too late to worry about things like that. She had picked her role in life and was going to stick with it. She was happy, or at least busy, as she was now and dating and relationships would only get in the way of that. She had built this business, hadn't she? And it was successful, wasn't it? So why mess with a good thing!

She pranced into the show room, her bright green dress poofing out from her waist and brushing against the door frame. The glitter in the tulle rained onto the carpet below and on every surface the damned shiny stuff could reach.

She propped herself up at the chair behind the counter, picking up one of the magazines she had put out early that morning. It had tribute facts in it and she just loved facts.

The woman pressed out all the negative feelings, focusing on how pretty she felt in this color, and how her shoes made her feel like a celebrity. She tool solace in the knowledge that her nails turned purple when they were cold and that her eyeliner was water proof. That she bought this belt on sale, and that all her jewelry was real. That was enough right? All the materials she put on her body- that was enough to keep that hungry loneliness at bay.

She flipped through the glossy pages. Some kid she didn't remember seeing reaped's favorite color is green.

"How interesting," her throat forced out. She sat a moment, glassy eyed and still before slowly closing the magazine and laying it on the counter. Carefully, perched on her sky high heels, she made her way to the front door of the shop. Just as people started to wander our of their houses with money in hand to spend on whatever object was the hottest to have, Poria reached her thin manicured fingers out and flipped her open sign to closed. She clicked the lock on the door to ensure no one wandered inside, and walked over to the light switch. With a twist of her wrist the whole ship was bathed in darkness save for the early morning light filtering through the store front windows where the current tributes' action figures were all on display.

She needed some time today to think.