the kingdom's forever rule // saffron

"Western, really? A-fucking-gain?!"

"Am I the only one who does not want this show to die!"

"Searching..."

"Not fucking now, Jarvis!"

Sardonyx held her fingers to her neck, as if to check her own pulse. A thing of celestial being and whispers and soft tones and it was so hard to carry that persona. Not as she grasped at grey hairs and hid them under cheap corner store box dye - that goddamned Ex Oh scripted it for her damn column. A clearly edited photo of Sardonyx in a messy bun and Haunt Couture sweatpants, as if she would ever be caught dead in anything less than glamour and mystique. 

"If I come back and there is - so help me - a single thread of tumbleweed on that Snow forsaken blueprint, I will getting Fenwick up your ass so fast I-!"

"Misses Crowe?"

"What. Now."

"He is, hmm, actually on the phone."

"What."

"for you." 

She practiced her breathing exorcises, just for a second, before rolling her shoulders and pushing her hair back with her nails. "Ahem, hello, Mr. Fenwick, this is Sardonyx Crowe.

Yes, I am-

I am aware, yes sir."

Sardonyx Crowe cleared her throat, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. 

Saffron Lowe, Jacinta Salazar, Teddy Ursa, Ridley Le Roux- the list continues to run. Fenwick lays out the requests and Crowe attempts to keep up to the buzzwords flooding her ears. It's one after another, the big eighty fifth, it had to be great, no- immaculate. And she had no excuse, not since Sampson took over the stylist position and the people of the capitol craved content. 

Craved substance, as if Snow's absence was not something substantial. Keep them occupied, keep them talking, and good fucking grief keep Ex Oh aware from anything suspicious. Sardonyx cleared her throat and exited the room, signing off on the second best design in the room. 

Fenwick knew what he was doing, and perhaps he knew longer than he led on. Sardonyx was pulled from the stylists before any of Snow's actions had dwindled down the line of power- only recently had she even found out, and she was supposed to be the precipice of Capitolite power. Sardonyx, herself, was not lacking, only just a step behind. Something she was slowly coming to terms with over the past year; she would always be one step behind whatever Fenwick needed her name for, and she would have to deal with that. 

Only, if Fenwick knew to move Sardonyx early;

how far ahead could he be? 

Who was on Fenwick's side, other than Sardonyx? Somehow this situation only becomes more and more stressful, she began to lose sleep leading up to the big eighty fifth interviews. It was a string of them, back to back, starting with Saffron Lowe. She was, well, a woman that Sardonyx respected just a tad. More invested in Mace than anything else, but Lowe herself had so much content and so few interviews to date. 

And besides, who doesn't love an anniversary? 

No matter the occasion, it hit so many buzzwords on the list. Twenty years since she had killed to kingdom come and ten years since she had her own child; Fenwick's voice was like melting ice in her ear, a sickly get them talking about that. Saffron Lowe's child, the bounty on that child's head and if it were Quinn Lowe or Sampson Crowe, Sardonyx knew where she stood on that.  

Of course, she wasn't scared of anything ever happening to Sampson. It was just part of the contract, the longer she found herself on the ice berg of it, she dedicates to the show and Sampson's career is fine, and they are both happy and employed. 

Unfortunately, she just always had a soft spot for the mothers. 

Sardonyx had read over each script long before the victors filed back into the capitol for the season. Read over every bit of anything that was labelled Saffron, and then a little less so for Teddy Ursa, and even less so for Jacinta Salazar. That interview would be the death of her, Jacinta had never given a good personality for the cameras. Not as a teen, not as an adult; Saffron and Teddy may just be middle district products, but at least they knew how to sell a smile. 

Some kids just never learn. You think they would, showbiz kills nowadays. 

The cheers preceded Sardonyx herself tonight, a bit of edge still built into her shoulders. She had such little history with Saffron Lowe, and the seer pressure of these cover up interviews could break a less woman than the two of them. Every word matters, every question matters, just enough to distract them. 

Get them obsessed in the questions, 
keep them from asking their own,

good lord, she needed a drink already. 

A faint purple mist fell through the stage, like a morning star dew laced fog, Saffron had always been the newborn of the capitol. Treated so gently, the stage was a lavender morning through a gentle sparse forest and it was just something simple. Something just to have from the back burner, "well, well, well, little dawns," there was something missing from her tone. That showmanship, that life. 

It had been fading for a year, but the audience plays it up none the difference. 

They never really change, and Sardonyx can appreciate the consistency at least. 

Picking up that familiar steed, she walks in their cheers, basks in it almost. Blue ribbon bow tie wrapped around her neck so large and tight, it chokes her nearly as it swims its excess to the floor; she talks nonetheless. "Hello! There! Every! Body!" Every single one, she clasps her hands together and her heels click together as she reaches her seat on stage. 

Pine needles woven into bassinets almost, rustic brown seats with bird egg pillows. That full nest, that empty nest, Sardonyx harbored her sorrows and distanced them from Saffron Lowe, as if they could never be the same type of mothers. It was difficult to feel passion in this night and still hold sympathy for what the night would bring. 

What she would allude to. 

What Quinn Lowe would be martyr'd for. 

"Twilights and all my brights out in the audience," she addressed the audience, "I, personally, am so proud to announce the absolutely brilliant cast of interviews we have lined up for you this week - yes, this week!" They yell for the Quell, "because we all know what this new dawn brings," and she begs it something less stressful. 

"We have devoted ourselves to bringing you the freshest source of - well - everything you need to know! With not just one, not just two- maybe not even three interviews," she ticks her fingers down as she projects over the crowd, pausing gently after each count just to draw some excitement. 

"Endless interviews! That's right, endless you heard me, right here on The Roost!" they always love the name drop, "right here, of course! We bring it every time." 

Sardonyx breathed in the energy, as if it would light something beneath her lungs and create something more real again. Something she would want to create, "now, to kick off our Quell Countdown Extravaganza, we have the Lionheart, our very own Aging Alice," she slides over one step, feels the morning ray lights behind her burn her ankle just a little. 

She breathes. 

"Miss Saffron Lowe!"