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But Then Nothing Ever Is // [Lemour]
Mar 31, 2015 15:33:24 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Mar 31, 2015 15:33:24 GMT -5
a note from the desk of
gamemaker
Glamour Kinkade
i can hear the echo ringing in my head
Compared to the past handful of Games, Glamour had found the Sixty-Nineth a breeze. The new Gamemakers had run a tight, exclusive ship, which had leveled Capiolite society. No one could get any traction with either Paul or Murdoch, and in the end, it was easier to spend energy elsewhere. Once the canon sounded for the death of Prism Nixton, the last attractive male tribute, Glamour had washed his hands of the Games entirely. If he won a little money from any of the remaining quartet, that would be good enough.
It was refreshing to not care a whit about the outcome.
He'd spent the morning whittling down his errands list, which was excessively boring but some things could not be delegated. Taxes and tithes had be hand delivered. Before lunch, he met with a PR guru whom he paid excessively to craft concise letters to President Snow. Generally he waited until after the finale to send his request for an audience, but not this year. He hoped to have it on the President's desk by the following morning. It was never too soon to begin petitioning for another slot as Gamemaker.
As the sun neared its zenith, Glamour met with the lead architect of the condominium structure adjacent to his own. It was only slightly less spectacular, and therefore only slightly more affordable. They spent nearly an hour squabbling over the details and viability of Glamour's demands. He dispatched an avox ahead to his condo with the plans inside a steel canister. He had advised the avox to be discreet, but he very much doubted his guest would notice one extra servant running around. Over the past week, he'd nearly doubled his household staff, just to disguise his true intentions.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, precisely, Glamour strode into the foyer. "Is he back from the training center yet?" He asked his butler, who thankfully still had his tongue.
"He's in the bedroom. Will you require anything else?"
Glamour waved him off, too eager to see his victor to think about champagne or flowers. He had tucked away a small gift, an offering ahead of the main event. His polished boots clacked on the polished floor as he flung open the double doors to the master retreat. "Come with me," he demanded, drawing one gloved finger along Leon's jawline as he marched past him to the bathroom. He drew out a bronze key from his pocket, unlocking the bathroom.
It had been an exquisite spa before, complete with a claw-foot tub, massaging shower heads, and separate vanities. The lighting had been softened from gold to teal, and above the claw-foot tub, a single rainhead showered water over the center of the room. It ran over the top of the tub, draining away discreetly. Over the far window, the architect's plans had been posted.
Glamour waited a few breaths before taking Leon's hand and leading him to the window. He had always found architectural plans tedious to interpret. He barely gave Leon an moment to digest them before launching into an explanation. "This is the roof top across the way, atop the other towers. You can see it from the bedroom, remember? I would have much preferred the roof of this building, but, well, I'd have to be a Gamemaker as many times as Dom Copperview to make it mine." He paused, his expression souring momentarily. He lusted after the penthouse but he simply couldn't afford it. For now. "When this rooftop estate became available, I made an offer. I had thought it would make for an excellent retreat, a sort of greenhouse and spa all in one. I've designed an oasis, complete with a wave pool. I thought it might remind you of home, while you're here."
He turned to Leon, still grasping one hand, as he drew out a small vial from the other. "It's a bit of authentic ocean water, all the way from Four. I could build you a sea, Leon, of your very own. And I'm willing to modify the design plans to suit."
He searched the victor's perfect, gem-toned eyes. "But this gift has a price."
It was refreshing to not care a whit about the outcome.
He'd spent the morning whittling down his errands list, which was excessively boring but some things could not be delegated. Taxes and tithes had be hand delivered. Before lunch, he met with a PR guru whom he paid excessively to craft concise letters to President Snow. Generally he waited until after the finale to send his request for an audience, but not this year. He hoped to have it on the President's desk by the following morning. It was never too soon to begin petitioning for another slot as Gamemaker.
As the sun neared its zenith, Glamour met with the lead architect of the condominium structure adjacent to his own. It was only slightly less spectacular, and therefore only slightly more affordable. They spent nearly an hour squabbling over the details and viability of Glamour's demands. He dispatched an avox ahead to his condo with the plans inside a steel canister. He had advised the avox to be discreet, but he very much doubted his guest would notice one extra servant running around. Over the past week, he'd nearly doubled his household staff, just to disguise his true intentions.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, precisely, Glamour strode into the foyer. "Is he back from the training center yet?" He asked his butler, who thankfully still had his tongue.
"He's in the bedroom. Will you require anything else?"
Glamour waved him off, too eager to see his victor to think about champagne or flowers. He had tucked away a small gift, an offering ahead of the main event. His polished boots clacked on the polished floor as he flung open the double doors to the master retreat. "Come with me," he demanded, drawing one gloved finger along Leon's jawline as he marched past him to the bathroom. He drew out a bronze key from his pocket, unlocking the bathroom.
It had been an exquisite spa before, complete with a claw-foot tub, massaging shower heads, and separate vanities. The lighting had been softened from gold to teal, and above the claw-foot tub, a single rainhead showered water over the center of the room. It ran over the top of the tub, draining away discreetly. Over the far window, the architect's plans had been posted.
Glamour waited a few breaths before taking Leon's hand and leading him to the window. He had always found architectural plans tedious to interpret. He barely gave Leon an moment to digest them before launching into an explanation. "This is the roof top across the way, atop the other towers. You can see it from the bedroom, remember? I would have much preferred the roof of this building, but, well, I'd have to be a Gamemaker as many times as Dom Copperview to make it mine." He paused, his expression souring momentarily. He lusted after the penthouse but he simply couldn't afford it. For now. "When this rooftop estate became available, I made an offer. I had thought it would make for an excellent retreat, a sort of greenhouse and spa all in one. I've designed an oasis, complete with a wave pool. I thought it might remind you of home, while you're here."
He turned to Leon, still grasping one hand, as he drew out a small vial from the other. "It's a bit of authentic ocean water, all the way from Four. I could build you a sea, Leon, of your very own. And I'm willing to modify the design plans to suit."
He searched the victor's perfect, gem-toned eyes. "But this gift has a price."
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