my heart's remedy] kay

i want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight,
lie still, close your eyes girl, so lovely

July, July, her namesake gone and leaving only the bitter cold. She walked through the Capitol, long past her curfew, but she wasn't going home. There would no one to reprimand her for meeting another midnight wide-eyed, no one to beg her to be responsible. Because her irresponsibility, kept the Jacquez family in the tabloids, living in the spotlight they so craved. So why buck tradition, why just ignore curfew, when you could do so much more? She planned to wave to midnight on her way past, all the way to the vibrant dawn.

The flamingo and tangerine and aureolin would not fool her though. The summer's warmth had fled, leaving her older, greyer, depressed and honest. Horribly, horribly honest. Because she could not keep up this charade forever. Because she had lost the battle with herself long ago. As it turned out, the difficulty was not in convincing other people of your heteroenormativity. It was convincing yourself. And failing the latter, the former became impossible. No one would believe a lie she did not herself believe. Even with the perfect disguise, even with the Adonis at her side, she saw the looks. Heard the whispers. She was here mere steps away from a full blown reveal, and no cards left in her deck.

So she walked the streets at night, from his apartment back to the center of the Capitol. Her hair disheveled from nothing more scandalous than watching the latest Games recap, her lipstick askew thanks only to her trembling fingertips. She pawed at it, at her face, smudging and smearing until only her faux eyelashes remained, surgically implanted onto her eyelid. She would look damaged, yes, but she would look taken. The disguise was no good if no one saw it. She knew that, and yet she was tired. So tired of pretending, of staying out all night and napping through her classes. She was sick of the routine. So, when the warm light of the bar invited her in, July thought only of the people who would see her, who would corroborate her story. And she walked inside.

Stilettos clacked like tap shoes on the wood, an announcement, a declaration. When no one rushed to buy her a drink, July sulked to the far end of the bar, wounded and determined. Almost a full fifteen minutes passed before an older gentleman approached. Her glass of champagne arrived right on time, the cold bubbles tickling her nose.

"Celebrating somthin'?" he asked.

July smirked. "My boyfriend's stamina," she said, adding a wink for good measure. The gentleman faded, the champagne sickly sweet on her tongue and sour in her stomach. She sipped at it anyway, her strawberry gloss staining the glass, claiming it for her own. Halfway through the effervescence, the doors parted and Lady Luck walked in. Like the rest of the patrons, July froze, transfixed. This time of year, Victors were as common as thieves in the Capitol. But not all Victors had been created the same. There were the dirty and dingy, the disgusting subset from the lower districts who should have been executed before being taken out of the arena. But then had come Topaz and Julian and Peridot. They were all clean, intelligent, strong. Almost like Capitolites, the best of the best.

And then there was Opal and her infinite beauty.

July sucked down another sip of champagne, the bubbles bursting in her veins, filling her with light. She waited and watched, and then could wait no longer. The scum in the bar would not wait for such easy prey, not after a blast of near-isopropyl like the one Opal had just taken. July lifted her empty glass, traversing the empty seats. Within range of Opal, she spotted another suitor, a boy with lavender eyes. She slowly lifted her sharpened nails, scratching just outside of her eye, touching the edge of her iris with one. He choked and turned, as white as a lily.

July grinned her cheshire grin, and sank into the stool beside Opal. "It won't kill you, if that's what you're hoping,"she whispered, all flirtation and conspiracy. "But it will hurt in the morning. Let's try something a little gentler, and a world more fun, hmm?" She wiggled the champagne glass, bright eyes full of Opal's reflection. The bartender immediately went in search of another bottle as July draped her arm over the back of her chair. "You look like a girl who used to know how to have fun, Opal Shore."

i want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight,
lie still, close your eyes girl, so lovely

There was something in Opal's hesitation, in that blink of surprise, that gave July pause. If she was more beautiful, more refined than the other victors, she was also younger, newer. July had heard the rumors about Julian, little good though they did her. He was beyond beautiful, bordering on perfection, but she could never trust him to keep her secret. He had too much to gain, too much to lose. The question of the evening, however, was could she trust Opal, for a night of mutual self destruction?

She felt the heat of the question, the champagne, the bar cozying up around her collarbones. It wasn't just that she didn't know if Opal would play can you keep my secret. When she moved into July's arm, a current passed between them, and Opal spasmed. Surprised. July knew better than to call a victor innocent, and yet the word surfaced, just behind her jewel toned eyes. And what was innocent, but lack of experience? She'd been innocent too, once. Able to lie to herself because she knew no differently. She longed to capture that feeling, to erase the knowledge that burned in her core, that made her lean a little closer, drink a little faster.

And if there was any doubt to Opal Shore's authenticity, it came through in a series of verbal grunts. July flashed a grin, and then bent at her hips to whisper in her ear. "It'll be our little secret," she promised, leaning back even as the words left her lips. She looked to her champagne glass, admiring the bubbles, and found a bit of light rose out of her in the form of a giggle. "When I was a little, I insisted everyone call me Decie, short for December. I was so sure it would make me better, help me focus." He fingers clenched around the flute, forehead knitting at the childhood problems of the ridiculously privileged. With a shake of her head, she smoothed her expression, met Opal's gaze. "I'm July, but I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Another sip, another memory. July retracted her arm, shifted her hips so that she faced Opal completely, off the side of her stool. "Let's play a game. Let's say for tonight you can be anyone you want to be, in all of Panem. You could even be Topaz Ross, with two littles and the most handsome husband anyone has ever seen." She felt the knife twist in her gut, at the idea of a husband who would shackle her. Another sip, her affected Capitol accent punctuating every word. "What do you say to that?"