Ms/Mr Capitol Pageant - Freestyle Design

"The night stared me in the face, amorphous, blind, infinite, without frontiers.
Not a single star relieved the darkness behind the glass." — Stanisław Lem, 'Solaris'

( PART ONE ) NIGHT

When she makes her entrance, her dress is made of dark silk and tulle. Winter roses are stitched across the fabric, shades of faded red and blue standing out against green vines and white detailing, and she's a vision. The design is simple and admittedly plain, hardly enough to catch attention amidst all the glamour of the pageant, but still beautiful. Bambi is Midnight's Queen, a maiden of all nocturnal blooms, but she knows the truth of dark things. It is not eternal; the shelter of black clouds and falling stars is only fleeting. The morning always returns after each witching hour, and the public sees the same shift come to life across the young stylist's gown. The blackness gives way to a violet sunrise first.

"i laughed today. / for a second i was unhaunted.
i was the sun, not light / from some dead star."
— Danez Smith, from 'it began right here,' Don’t Call Us Dead

( PART TWO ) SUNRISE, first

The roses stir, blooms widening and their red tones becoming more vibrant. The black fabric follows suit, rising in shade until it reaches a rich pink. The tulle also changes in hue, going from dark grey to a mix of pale white and deep purple. She smiles when the gasps of the audience greet her ears, proud to put her abilities to use outside of creating Justice Fray's traditional suits. It's not quite a sense of fulfillment, and it's not exactly confidence, but it's a warm and safe feeling. She holds it close. Her cheeks flush at the same time as her dress, the silken sunrise preparing for its next stage.

"I am nobody:
A red sinking autumn sun
Took my name away."
— Richard Wright, from Haiku: The Other World,
eds. Yoshinobu Hakutani and Robert L. Tener

( PART THREE ) SUNRISE, second

The intensity bleeds out as quickly as it had arrived; blossoms closing and her gown becoming its most plain and modest version in the cycle. Still, there's something about the quiet melancholy of the dress that draws the crowd in. Its shade is the same pale pink that follows the bright purple of almost every sunrise, seeping out of the sky as if finished with its vibrant display, but anyone who has ever spent a morning on their roof in the Capitol knows what comes next. She basks in the simplicity while she can, drawing attention to the nudity of her features and the simple braided crown of hair atop her head. There's not much to burn, but the fire still comes.

"One day you will wake up and everything,
the stones by the driveway, the brick houses,
each brick, each leaf of each tree, your own body,
will be glowing from within, lit up, so bright you can hardly look.
You will reach out in any direction and you will touch the light itself."
— Margaret Atwood, from Murder in the Dark: Stories, 'Instructions for the Third Eye'

( PART FOUR ) SUNRISE, third

Not true flames, mind you, but an inferno all the same. The dress undergoes its most dramatic change since the start of her catwalk. The roses return, yellow and cream blossoms unfurling like spring has come to kiss their petals, and the tulle also seems to bloom in its special own way. Rich shades of orange and maroon take hold of her form, the colour highlighting the blonde crown of her braided hair and the warm brown of her eyes, and she's radiant. The most famous layer of a sunrise is its final performance, the swan song, but blue skies still follow. The aether is always putting on a show, and she had thoroughly enjoyed studying its dramatics while designing her outfit. She's unable to do the source material true justice, but she's proud of herself. She stops at the end of the runway and strikes her final pose.

"And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it;
and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her."
— J.R.R. Tolkien, 'The Return of the King'

( PART FIVE ) DAY

The gown finishes alongside her, reaching its final phase. The orange and yellow shades are absorbed by the roses, which shift to white and pink alongside the warm hues, and the tulle becomes clear. A blue wave takes hold of the fabric, a rush of sea and sky and every magical sight that the earth has to offer. She is not Midnight's Queen, instead Nature's Lady, and she bows with a flourish. For so long, she had credited the beauty of her features to why she had been appointed her position, but she's steadily finding herself. Not just as a stylist, but as a woman; and she's grateful to have Justice as a friend and companion. She wonders if he's watching, smiling and clapping with the rest, but the lights are too bright. She sees nothing. Night always returns.