New Heights [Olivia & Theo]

O l i v i a

And I will not negotiate
I will transform

I had so rarely gone to galas these past few years, it felt as though I were going stark raving mad. Attending the Varda’s Gala for the second day of ceremonys, dragging myself through all the paint and polish, glad handing, waving, kissing cheeks, sipping on too little alcohol all for the purpose of staring at idiotic children running around an arena. One of them would be pulled out of all of it and given a little tin crown for their head, and the rest of them would go home in pine boxes. Watching eighty different games didn’t so much as move me to tears as it did draw a yawn now and again (though not at the Varda’s, one wouldn’t make such a rookie mistake).

Their grounds were well manicured as they were maze-like, a great expanse of a house with gardens backing out to oblivion. Monied and well connected, their family was never too far from any of the grander designs across the capitol. Even Snow would have been foolish not to include the head of the family in things, if even as a courtesy. Their influence was more than just the money, it was a curated experience that held wisdom and general well-regard. Popular – the shimmy golden descriptor capitolites so long for – the Vardas had this in spades. And now, a well-trained daughter to carry out the legacy after her father inevitably shuffled from the mortal coil.

I lit a cigarette in front of one of their marble fountains between a set of hedges taller than I was. It’d been time for me to excuse myself, at least a few minutes to gather my thoughts on the path forward. There were enough on the council to make a choice for a successor, and yet, they hadn’t acted. What on earth could they have been thinking? That one of us that had served so faithfully for so many years wasn’t ready to step onto the throne and be seated? That they needed time to deliberate to figure out who truly deserved it?

Idiots would likely pick someone who’d never once shown an interest in governing. Someone who’d been a performer no doubt, a pale imitation of what it meant to truly hold a candle to Snow’s legacy.

As I puffed out smoke into the evening air and folded my clutch under an arm, I turned to sit back against the fountain. A cool summer’s breeze relieved the heat, and I closed my eyes. There was something about yesterday that had stood out, as much as I had wanted to spend it anywhere else.

Though there’d been a sum my family had left for me, and as smart as I’d been, my wealth didn’t compare to the Vardas. I was comfortable in a high-rise floor of an exclusive building surrounded by servants, but the comfort was nowhere as extravagant as this. If one were to open a true campaign, she’d need these sorts of resources, a philanthropist willing to put trust into something true. Someone that understood what the world truly needed, and not just what they think they deserved.

Precisely why I’d taken note of the boy the previous day.

He’d shown the spirit of someone that wanted more, and not just the simple pleasures in life. I’d seen the look before in plenty of men’s eyes.

I didn’t have to wait long before I saw him. One couldn’t miss his red hair. I stood from my lean against the fountain and gave a small nod.

“Theo, I was hoping that I’d see you again.” I grinned. “I felt as though we hadn’t gotten quite the chance to speak before.”