the dark, skyless star // nico. 81st

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the dark, skyless star // nico. 81st May 13, 2020 0:37:04 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on May 13, 2020 0:37:04 GMT -5

For the first time in a long, rich career, Sardonyx found her heart in the poorest of places. She, like most of her acquaintances, had grown to not expect too much of the games. Not like the actual fans, they were just a story line - a winner would rise from the midst and the other twenty three would be memories. They had to be real to someone, of course, families who would feel a gap in their lines.

Sardonyx, however, was not one of those people, ever. Victors were adored but even then, the only ones holding much of Crowe's heart were the ones she had come to work alongside, and it seemed it would be a decade more after Justice until she would get a new project. But then there's Nico Thorne.

And she had never been more excited to learn everything.

He was without a leg and without an arm and he was exactly perfect as Sardonyx had grown to watch him. There was something so- so home-like, something real in the spirit he ran across that world. For once, Sardonyx had entered the interview stage with a knowledge of who the victor truly was besides stats. Premade lines waited for her, but she had her own questions for this boy.

Still, Sardonyx toyed with the preshow martini. Alcohol had always called her name, and she couldn't help but feel excitement in her career in eight years. Between everything, this broken, poverty begged fighter is the one to win her heart ever since his district killed Pillar Fray. She had memorized every line that came from him over the nine days, and she had tried to love Diana as well, but she had already fallen.

Nico Thorne, the lonesome cowboy. The growing rose, he could be a star,

I could make him a star, she could hardly stop herself from being an alcoholic. She knew it was more of an arrangement than a true agreement, but she was proud to see him come on set, schedule the interview. Take a seat on the show, let us fall in love with you.

It's so simple, perhaps it was just her empty nest but he had everything it took to be family. And maybe it was this respect that she fought over the set design for this interview, they wanted so bad for another ghost town set up. He needed to be comfortable, to treat this boy with some humanity and leave the goddamn west behind.

And so it's in glamor that she walks across the stage, gilded in shining azures and dripping golds. She wanted it fitted for royalty- fitted for family. There was opulence in every bead of the fucking walls, the set dramatic and luxurious its mimic of Sardonyx's composure. Art of cherubs and baby blue skies painted the mile high ceiling, echoing the clamoring cheers of the crowd. A light hearted stage, a heavy hand, for the first time in a long time she actually waits with excitement.

She took her seat, hardly able to keep herself from shaking her leg. The backing of the chair flowed like velvet from the walls, well above her and she felt even taller. "Well,

Hello there everybody!"

She said it with near seduction in her eyes, they looked at her like she was royalty. Adoration from the audience and she was merely a queen, as usual, with her newfound son under her sleeves. Gold flakes rained, slowly, from the ceiling as Sardonyx took her next breath. "Princes, Princess and all royals in between, I welcome you to our most exquisite showing this year on The Roost." There's a gentle cloud that begins to swirl from the marble floor, and it's nothing less from heavenly.

And oh do they rally. "As you may know, Lady Luck-" the audience screams from the named hint. They all know it, Nico Thorne, the newest name, "she has passed her crown to he with the lion's greatest share, and I am sure you have been dying to meet him as much as he's been waiting to be here! Adored and adorn, let's welcome in our guest of excellence tonight,

our lonesome cowboy-"

♔

"Nico Thorne!"

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the dark, skyless star // nico. 81st May 13, 2020 12:40:29 GMT -5

Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on May 13, 2020 12:40:29 GMT -5

He stands in the wings, stomach dropped.

It's—he doesn't know how long it's been since he got released from the medical center, doesn't know how long its been since he woke up with Mackenzie Pryce at his side, looking down on him with. Well, Nico doesn't really like to think about the expression on the other boy's face, doesn't like to think about how it had felt shocking like pity, as much as it had felt like understanding. Doesn't like to think about how the very first time he'd looked into someone's eyes and felt, wholly, completely understood, he'd also been being pitied.

The thought makes Nico lurch, and he has to turn towards the wall and lean one of his hands against it before he fully topples over. Francis is dead, he thinks, unable to stop himself.

He knows that surely he must look fucking foolish, ridiculous to the highest degree. He's just grateful that Jenas at least had the good sense to put Nico in an all-black suit, adorned in intricate gold designs, but black all the same. What Nico really cared about was the pocket in the breast of the jacket. Quickly, without a second thought, he reaches into it now and takes out the tiny flask that he's stored away there, tries not to think about the gold thing glimmering atop his short dark curls.

If he thinks about it, he'll vomit.

And if he gets bile on these shoes, he knows that he'll have survived the Games just to be fucking slaughtered by Jenas.

A flash, and it's an interesting concept, but he pushes it away before it can linger too long. He'd done all that fighting, all that surviving and killing so that he could honor Francis' dying words. He wasn't about to quit on that love now.

He forces a smile to his face, shivers at how foreign it feels, and then does it again. He stands there for what feels like an eternity, waiting in the wings with a smile plastered on his face. Maybe if he fakes it for long enough, the long drag he takes of his flask will do something good, cause some chemical shift in his brain and make him believe that he's actually happy to be here.

When Sardonyx calls his name, he drops his crazed smile and melts into the terrible thing that everyone had fallen in love within the arena. The half-monster half-savior who'd given his heart away just to have it crushed.

The lonesome cowboy.

He supposed it was fitting enough. Here he was, after all, alone in the world again, a crowd of faces he didn't recognize or care about standing in front of him.

Stepping into the light, Nico raises up his hand—his prosthetic one, to be sure. Let them see you're nor ruined, he hears a voice in the back of his head. Show them you're stronger than ever. If he listened closer, he might think it was Myrcella talking to him, her voice ringing around in the back of his head. Teaching him how to be strong. Teaching him how to put on a show.

Even in death, she was better at this than he'd ever be.

Nico puts a hand on Sardonyx's elbow, almost gentle, and kisses her on the cheek softly, careful to do what he can not to get her makeup on his face. He backs away when the crowd chorus's aw, doesn't give them a second glance.

"Sardonyx," he says, stepping into her space finally. "I'd say you've outdone yourself with the stage, but even this doesn't stand a chance against you."

He level's her with a half-grin, letting his dimples do the hard work.

Fuck, he wants another drink.

"Don't worry, we'll get to me," he says, still standing, and finally turns to face the crowd again. "But can I get some more applause for the woman of the evening? I mean, look at what she's designed for you all tonight. Sardonyx Crowe, everyone!"

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.

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the dark, skyless star // nico. 81st May 17, 2020 9:54:40 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on May 17, 2020 9:54:40 GMT -5

Perhaps it's just the martini settling it, but there was almost a bit of compassion in the way she graced Nico onto the set. They hadn't been able to talk at all before the stage lights hit - too many damn lines to fake memorize - but it was all but familiar in the way she let the boy kiss her cheek. Something maternal, a defensive vulnerability she had hid from the cameras for years, but hell, Nico Thorne was worth the performance.

A bit of warmth.

A bit of sympathy.

Nico sure knew how to play a crowd too, and if Sardonyx weren't acutely aware of the pandering she would have let herself get wrapped up in it as well. She's sizing him up as he preaches her name into the crowd- he's already making this easier. It doesn't matter who Nico Thorne really is, not the victor, and they both know it. It's easier when they both knew it, how to play that persona.

And he plays it well, thankfully, "oh my," she says with a blush. Her nails pressed against her chest and a gracious smile as the audience cheers her on; a little showboating never hurt anyone. Especially when it feeds into Sardonyx's ego, she would never complain. "Please, please, this old thing? Casual, even!" She speaks in exaggerated movements.

It's almost concerning how much better Nico plays humble than Sardonyx, and she's practiced it for years. The audience continues to cheer as she basks in the echoes, rolling her eyes almost as she lifts the corner of her crinoline and gives a twirl for her fans- his fans, their fans. Adoration in the air as she turns back to Nico, "no but really, isn't he just the most charming thing since Justice Fray? And so humble!" It's going to be hard work to uplift a boy from twelve on the same level as a Fray, but there's a hopeful bit left in her after seventeen years.

She held her left hand out to Nico, hoping he would help her take a seat. In her mind, she sorted through every last question she had for this boy; usually it was just about trying to force some emotion out of them. Drip some extra trauma for the crowd, the privileged loved what they didn't know, herself included. But there was an exclusive interest in his story, "now, I'm sure you know we here on The Roost-" she winked at the camera, "have a lot in store for you, but I have my own question before we start."

There was something heavy in her heart as she looked into his eyes, ask about Francisco Bloom. It was the first line on the script, she had it memorized and even then, Frederick fed it to her through the porcelain coms in her ears, "how- have you ever thought about modeling?" The crowd hung silent on her words until this question fell through, and some whistles starting ringing through the air, play with it, Nico. "I mean, come on, look at those cheekbones! And those eyes, swooning, really," she held her hand to her forehead as if she'd faint.

Sardonyx turned to the crowd as she turned off the ear piece, "that is a jawline built to be admired," a line fed to the crowd and eaten with every word. They cheered for the a prodigal son and Sardonyx tried to gather her mental notes back in order,

"when you get back home, you go out and find the first cat walk in twelve you can, because the next time I see you, I'm putting you to work, you hear me, Thorne!"

Last Edit: May 17, 2020 9:55:16 GMT -5 by Deleted

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the dark, skyless star // nico. 81st Jun 6, 2020 19:44:11 GMT -5

Post by 🌱 kaitlin. on Jun 6, 2020 19:44:11 GMT -5

Sardonyx is a master in masks.

That much, Nico sees immediately.

The second he steps onto the stage and kisses her cheeks, probably even before then, she is absolutely ready for everything that he's going to throw her way, knows everything that the crowd wants, and everything that they don't even know they need. A born entertainer, a soul built for the stage, for the blinding lights, she makes it easier for him to settle. She is all exaggerated tones and big grand gestures, moving her hands with her words, eyes going from hooded to wide to playful to cutting in a single breath, like she's capable of anything.

It'd be terrifying if it wasn't so awe-inspiring, if it didn't make Nico's job up on that stage ten-fold easier.

Because though Nico won't pretend to settle into his role naturally, but he doesn't lie to himself and pretend that it isn't, in the worst kind of way, incredibly easy.

She compares him to Justice Fray, and he gives his best impression of the career from One's money-winning grin, the same smile that Nico knows has broken hearts and torn apart homes, the same smile that has sent countless other kids to their death in the Games, children wanting to be just like him. "Don't let Justice hear you say that," Nico says cheekily, cocking his head to the side at her, but he takes her hand to help her sit down all the same. He knows that she's perfectly fucking capable of sitting all by herself, but neither of them is their real self here on this stage, Nico is fairly certain of that, and if she wants to play a little delicate, if she wants him to play a little less cowboy crowned in a bull's skull, well.

He could indulge the crowd in that.

For half a beat, Nico thinks that she is going to start with the worst of the worst, thinks that she is going to sit him down and rip out his heart right there on the stage. He's seen her do it before, knows what media is like here in the Capitol—it's Sardonyx Crowe's name in the title, but it's the producers show in the end.

He'd bet his entire new fortune on the fact that there's someone three times as terrible as her, worse, twice as terrible as Nico himself, whispering in her ear a dead boy from Five's name. But between one beat of Nico's heart and the next—"Have you ever thought about modeling?" she asks. Nico can feel his stomach drop out from beneath him and he's glad that he's sitting down. It takes something monstrous to bite back the snort he wants to let out when she suggests he find the best catwalk in Twelve and start practicing—the only catwalk in Twelve was the pathway between the boy section and the girls at the yearly reaping.

Option B for all eyes were on him at any other time would be getting chained up in the square and being whipped.

Nico would like to choose 'option c,' thank you very much.

But he does what he thinks maybe she would want him to do when she talks about his jawline, smiles big and broad again, a show of false modesty, looks up and away from her.

It's no mistake that the movement emphasizes the sharp cut of his jaw.

"Oh, Sardonyx, please," he says in response. "There's no way we could craft a stage half as excellent in Twelve as you all have already built here in the Capitol." The crowd gives a little 'aw,' a strange coo of approval from a crowd of strangers, sympathizing with him not because he's gone hungry for the last seventeen years, but rather because the fashion scene wasn't as well developed.

The Capitol has a warped sense of right and wrong.

An uneven hem would give a stylist a heart attack, but watching Nico Thorne use an Ox skull as a piece of armor? Now that was fantastic.

"I'll be dreadful without your sage words of advice whispering in my ear every day anyway." A grin, as a thought comes to his head, though certainly not one he'd ever truly follow through on. "Maybe I'll just have to stay here with you instead."

At that, the crowd is a chorus of yea's.

It leaves him vulnerable to questions about his family, about his mother, about his life back home, he knows, but somehow—the crowd loving him makes it worth it.

Last Edit: Jun 6, 2020 19:44:44 GMT -5 by 🌱 kaitlin.

what are men to rocks and mountains?

a haunted house.