To Dress Accordingly [Kheft]

I I I Silence is a true friend who never betrays I I I
~ Confucius

There are men who speak with the eloquence of angels. Their words stirring a crowd to passion, or bringing them to tears, inspiring them to follow in fanatical droves. I can say with absolute certainty that I am not one of those men. Words have never come easily to me, sticking in my throat, refusing to leave my tongue; they dribbled off my lips in fits and spurts. I came to hate the necessity of speech. That moment when someone looked at me, anticipating a reply to whatever was said. I'd have to rally myself and try to force what I could think with perfect ease out of my mouth. It never flowed the same, hitching and starting like those little inch worms. A speech impediment, that's what they called it. Hell on earth, that's what I thought.

So the day I became an Avox…well, it should have been the most traumatic experience of my life. But it wasn't. In fact, it was almost a relief. I suppose that might sound sick to some folks. To me, it meant that I wouldn't have to struggle anymore with the necessity of communication. Watching people's expressions go from expectant to frustrated and annoyed at how long it took me to eke out a response, it was discouraging. The mockery I received in school…people seem to immediately assume that if you can't speak easily, it must be because you are slow or stupid. My brain worked just find, it was my tongue that betrayed me. So instead of being miserable as an Avox, it just felt natural to me. Silence was my friend.

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The studio was quiet today, an unusual occurrence of late, what with the name 'Oracle Designs' being dropped so frequently in high fashion circles. Venus' star was on the rise, and she was taking me with her. Usually we were booked solid with the Capitol's elite; their frenzy for our services only matched by the amount of money they willingly handed over for it. I was kept madly busy with design sketches for each requisition. The process was labor intensive for me, as I had to put together a quick mockup with Venus' initial ideas. Then came the tweaking and adjusting until the aesthetics were exactly as the customer desired. After that, each sketch had to be translated into more practical and detailed views, laying out each piece of the garment in exactness that the seamstresses could translate into patterns for product creation.

Today, however, found me caught up on my work. Venus was attending a gala hosted by some of the premier Gaming stylists, and she left me in charge of the studio. Only one appointment was on the agenda, and that was just an initial meet and greet with a referral client. I would take her measurements, get a better idea of what she had envisioned, and then pencil her into Venus' tight schedule. It was stuff that most businesses had a 'shop girl' to attend after, but until recently Oracle Designs had been all but unknown. Our rise in success was sudden, happening in the last six months perhaps, and we hadn't yet added on to our staffing.

I was just speculating on whether the client would show up or not, when the bell on our front door chimed its alert. I paused in the back long enough to smooth my shirt and pick up my tablet. It was a gift from Venus for my last birthday. The size of a notepad, it was thin and very light, the screen reacting to the light touch of a stylus. I could create my swift sketches during fitting sessions on it, and store them for later refinement. It also had a dictation feature. I could write out a message on the screen, and the synthesized voice read it aloud. This enabled me to communicate when the situation required, which was happening more frequently as Venus continued to draw me into client sessions. It was odd for me to hear my thoughts flowing from that little speaker in such an articulated manner, something I had never managed to accomplish on my own.

The shop front appeared deserted at first, and I was about to turn and head back into the offices, when I noticed a solitary girl studying the gowns we had on display. I was reminded again of my relief at no longer needing to speak to people, I probably couldn't have managed a coherent sentence to save my life.

She was beautiful.

It wasn't the sort of face that most Capitolites desired. No sensuous curves or exotic coloring. This girl was all sharp angles and contrast. My fingers itched to pick up the stylus and begin mapping out the unusual planes of her cheekbones, and outlining the full, softness of her lips. It was a fascinating face, and one that drew me inexplicably. I almost gave in to the temptation - she hadn't noticed me, so enrapt in ogling the silken creations - but I recalled my place quickly. I could admire, but my habit for obsessing over beautiful things would only spell trouble. An Avox is not an equal. We are lower on the societal scale than even a criminal. We are nothing, we are trained animals. My association with Venus occasionally helped me to forget this fact. She treated me well, and gave a lot of leeway, but in the end I was still a pet.

Cadence Amare. It was the name I had scribbled down as a reminder. Now I approached her, trying to make a little noise to announce my presence so I wouldn't startle her. When she turned, I couldn't help the too-big smile that pulled at my lips, it was more goofy than professional. I couldn't seem to smother it. She was just so fresh and unexpected, so untainted by the enhancements and embellishments that the Capitol adored. No strange implants or piercings…just some subtle tattooing to her arms that was nearly hidden by the sleeves of her shirt. For a long, homesick moment she reminded me of the girls in district four…of my sister. All I could do was stand and stare at her like a complete idiot.

So much for silence being my friend…

My gaze slipped past her to rest on the gown she had previously been admiring. 'Eclipse', as Venus insisted on naming each of her custom creations. It was an ethereal concoction of silver-blasted silk, frosted surface reflecting back light with a limpid lustre. Intertwining, and in places interwoven, were tendrils of tempest blue; their vivid contrast reminding me of waves breaking against the cliffs of District Four. Only increasing the marine imagery, a spray of delicate pearl beading coated one side of the bodice. I used to tell my sister that pearls were angel tears. Venus would receive credit for the gown, but the design for this one was my own…a tribute to my old home.

As the client turned towards me, her movements made the skirt flutter, as if it regretted the loss of her attention. Full on, her face was even more striking than in profile, and I lost myself for several long minutes in an artist's appreciative trance. I like to call it that, Venus refers to them as 'mental meltdowns', but she says it with her purse-lipped version of a smile, so I know she doesn't mean it badly.

Interrupting my lapse of focus, her words seemed to spill out in a hurried jumble of half formed sentences; it made me feel a little more at ease that I wasn't the only one flustered. But she rallied quickly.

"I believe I have an appointment."

Of course, I mentally shook myself. She was here for a fitting appointment, and I was busy staring at her like the mute lunatic people thought I was. Flipping open the cover of my tablet, I hastily scribbled a response across the screen. It was met with a muted, electronic chime. letting me know the text was accepted and being translated. I smiled wryly at the client, tapping the gadget to let her know the answer was in process.

"Of course, my apologies. You are Cadence Amare? I am Brooke, Venus' assistant. I will be doing the fitting with you today."

The synthesized voice spoke with an oddly clipped intonation that all native Capitolites had. I chose it specifically for that reason, as the clientele responded with greater comfort. Although, now that I thought about it for a moment, there was something subtly…other…about Cadence's speech patterns. It wasn't obtrusive, and she likely could pass as Capitol-born, but when she became flustered it was more noticeable. A softer brush across some consonants and a more annunciated 't' perhaps? I couldn't help but eye her more closely, there are so few of us here who can claim a District upbringing…could she be a transplant as well?

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