Consumed by the rapid heart beat clicking of her fine point pen. It was a tendency she'd grown accustom, each click sent nostalgia into her flourishing young mind. Reminiscent of a pendulum, one that never came to a stop, the inner pain alleviated with a hypnotic command of one-two-one-two. All made while her eyes took in each spectacle that occurred around her, forming mere visions into expanded, developed thoughts, beyond what- those who had nothing but a plain eye could ever picture. Some say that her apprehensive nature towards life is hidden deep down within her body, along with the shots and chasers that restore light to a path of secrets and deceit. Though, one thing they have in common is the burning sensation against her throat; it was never poison that could bring her to her knees upon confessions.
Reclining in the chair of one of the most expensive gourmet restaurants known in the Capitol, à prix élevé. The stem of her crystal wine glass is held at the forefronts of her delicate fingertips. Crossing her right leg over her left, she shifts to the side, allowing the slit in her velvet dress fall to the floor, perpendicular. Free arm crossed over her chest, some would say she uses her sex appeal to build the walls of her empire, but your royal highness- it is lies, and secrets, and deceit that build her walls thicker. Playing her cards right since she'd made her first appearance, it is the envy of others that'd stack brick on top of brick, while she sits upon her throne.
She flung a vindictive, ferocious glare towards the man who chose his fate ever since even before he entered the swinging glass door. Playing a game of cards with the queen of the damned, in her own sublunary kingdom of a made up Hell, was made out to be more complex than what was once considered child's play. Advancing on him, a smirk sifted- weaved itself into the fibers of her being, implementing an agreement to a very desirable plan. Gracious in every aspect, she uncrossed her legs, setting the crystal wine glass gently upon the table. Twirling between her finger tips, before picking it back up and taking a sip, she watched closely as the legs of toxicity drew back to the substance from which they came.
("You've a foolish- fragile spine. You want all that is not yours.")
"I am- honored
To be offered such responsibility.
You will not be disappointed."
"And I hope to not be. Now, Ambrosia, tell me- Never mind."
The man's voice cut short as her eyes traced that of a incoming avox. Her life affairs were to be kept in secrecy, even from those who'd not even the will to speak of such without a tongue to do so. A languid stare shifted, from the woman avox- criminal- who walked step by step from the table that sat along the promenade, back to the man, Corvus. Licking the condensation from the rim of her half full wine glass, Ambrosia, kicked her heel that rested upon her leg upward. The sly raise of Ambrosia's lips gave a clear indication of the induction Corvus, had bestowed upon her.
Clutching the notepad that rested in her lap, Corvus, slipped Ambrosia a closed letter beneath the table. The click of her fine point pen, she signed the back before stuffing it into her notepad full of sketches, doodles, and designs. Uncrossing her legs and coming to a stand tall, the velvet dress pooled along her ankles and heels, the slit running to her thigh. There was a movement of gratitude and the smirk was replaced with a genuine half-assed smile. Wrapping both hands frivolously around the notepad, the clicking of her heels removed the cooing of hymns that were in its place. The power of certainty is in her hands, marked with the kiss of a signature, Ambrosia knew her time was to come.
She'd stepped from behind the grand stage, the auditorium filled with roaring applause- the cheers thundering against her ear drums in a symphonic conundrum. The lights flashed brightly, and blinded her as she clicked heel to polished flooring upon the stage, with wide eyes and a smile that pearls over. It wasn't until Ambrosia was half way to the center chairs that Caesar Flickerman, so chivalrously, gently took her hand into his and guided her to the chair only few feet from his. An exclusive interview with the one and only, a big opportunity leading to future headlines in the Capitol's media.
With little to no hesitation, the interview had begun when Ambrosia had marked it with the kick of her feet. Resting back, she bit the bottom of her lip, crossing her legs and her velvet dress hugged around her figure. A silent tension filled the air as the crowd began to simmer into fading applauds and ecstatic screams. It was not the first time the world had been in the likes and presence of a bombshell, such as Ambrosia. She was no new face to both the fame, and scandal, side of the media.
"It is such a pleasure to have you back, Ambrosia! And I'm sure the crowd is as ecstatic as I am when I say that!"
It sure is nice to be back,
Her tone was more sharp, coy, than Caesars, and certainly less welcoming. She wrapped the palms of her hands around her knee, unwinding herself from nerves. Sitting next to her chair was a tabletop, a glass of the finest wine full to the brim, a sort-of peace offering granted by Flickerman himself.
The two never made a well plucked pair, very much, and it was signified clear several years ahead. A clash in the heads and a slit of the tongue, Ambrosia had severed his voice and shut him down quickly at the call, and accusation, of such a scandal. Arranged- forced marriages, and the mention of the widow's late husband since his "passing" had sent her spiraling into defense. It was a real head scratcher as to why she'd found a way back onto Caesar's stage, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't for the money, and fame, and headlines- though lying was a strong suit.
"So, tell me, Ambrosia- How is it that such a young, striking, desirable woman like yourself rise in hierarchy so rapidly?"
"When you're remarkably qualified,
upon graduating within top percentile
then offerings, such as so,
are practically screaming your name.
Majoring in software, biomed. & biomechancal engineering
also add onto such qualifications, as well.
Working on the technical side of previous games,
unseen to the eyes, but helping everything run smoothly,
you move along the hierarchy quite 'rapidly'.
That is if you're not Candace."
Chuckles came from the mouth of a serpent, while laughter roared throughout the tame crowd. Questions came and went, together like obstacles she'd tried hard to get over with the best of her ability. Over the course of the interview she'd grown apathetic, disinterested in his questions and talking more and more of such things she had no time for. ("My time is like money, no room to waste it.") Ambrosia began pouring fresh wine into a crystalline glass she held so carelessly between the tips of her fingers. Caesar sought the opportunity to release years worth of scandal buried beneath the dirt.
Licking her wine doused lips, there was a bitter lingering taste. Ambrosia held the crystal wine glass in her hand elegantly, leaning over the arm of her chair. She patiently awaited the next round of questions to be fired at her like daggers, one's she'd knew she could avoid.
"Now, Ambrosia- I've heard recently that you've been involved in a scandal of sorts."
Readjusting her positioning, her body tenses up just a bit, and a glare replaces the half-assed smile she once held prior. A face marked with the look of genuine consideration was drawn upon.
"Tell us about your late husband, how did you surmount to his 'passing'?"
"That is enough.
"How about the snide rumors of being a call girl living on the streets at only seventeen?"
Skin boiling with a flushed anger, Ambrosia slammed her crystalline wine glass upon the crystal table top. Hoisting a gift of peace, the talk of the old, the reason of such a gift, was brought up to remembrance. Behind the shattering sound of glass, Caesar noticed the sneer coming from the black lipstick. It took all she could to not reach beyond the feet that separated the two, an urge to rip his rutting throat out from where it resided.
"It was a pleasure to be here,
but this interview is over."
Hand covered in the finest wine the Capitol had to offer, Ambrosia rose from her seat immediately. Her velvet dress pooled to the floor, and the silent aura was replaced by the clicking of heels against polished floor, once again. If people had half the wits they would have claimed to hold in their precious minds, they'd know not to play a wrongful hand in her game of cards.