So Cinna's pretty fantastic, and his lack of history irritated me somewhat. This is the result of my need for background info on Cinna, a Sarah Brightman binge and the avoidance of school work. Mind you, it's not The Autobiography of Cinna, but rather, a scene that popped into my head while thinking about what sort of relationships he would have had given the complexity of his character. Whether or not I continue this totally depends on if people are interested, so if ya like it, let me know. Admittedly, I did not intend it to be this long but oh well. Enjoy.
Even though the world was beginning to burn, the evening seemed particularly dark. Perhaps, it was just his mood that made it seem so. Even the moon seemed to be struggling against the oppressive darkness. Lost in thoughts as dark as the night sky, Cinna stared out the window of his guestroom for the Games which felt more like a prison cell.
The distinct scent of jasmine and spice alerted Cinna of her presence even though she made no sound. It was not that the perfume was overwhelming, but rather, he was simply highly sensitive to the specific aroma. However, the woman who wore the fragrance was not someone he wanted to see at this particular moment. In fact, he'd hoped to avoid her entirely for the foreseeable future.
Unfortunately, this was not a woman that could be easily avoided or ignored, as made evident by the fact she had entered his room without so much as knocking. The woman had no shame or sense of privacy – at least not when it came to him, apparently. Yet, she did seemingly have all the patience in the world because she remained silent. Cinna knew she was waiting for him to turn. He could feel her eyes on him, burning through him until he could stand it no more. Reluctantly, he glanced over his shoulder and let a sigh escape his barely parted lips.
Cleyo Trifaye stood as if modeling for a sculptor crafting another statue of Venus, sensually yet not quite provocative. She'd somehow mastered the complex art of embodying both a temptress and a saint at the same time. A ghost of a smile graced her lips when Cinna finally caved and looked at her. The smile faltered when he did not return her smile and turned back to stare out the window into the night.
"Is it so terrible to see me, Cinna?" Her sultry voice, that for his benefit lacked the usual Capitol accent, was to his ears like satin was to his fingertips, and his stoicism wavered for a moment. She almost sounded hurt. Almost.
He could lie, but lying to a liar was difficult. He could tell the truth, but that was also easier said than done. So he opted to not answer the question at all. "Certainly you have more important men to entertain tonight than a stylist, Cleyo," He stressed 'entertain,' knowing full well the word would cut her deeply no matter how softly they were spoken. His confirmation that the barb hit its mark came in a barely inaudible but sharp inhale of indignation.
More silence followed. However, the jasmine and spice was still too strong to just be left behind remnants of his visitor so he knew she hadn't stormed out yet.
Cinna closed his eyes tightly, very much wishing to go to her and apologize for the insult. He knew better than anyone her predicament, her sacrifices made for the cause. He knew because in the not too distant past he had been her confidante. Perhaps it was not fair to simply say confidante. He'd been much more than that but thinking about such things made keeping his back to her more difficult. Outright telling her to leave was proving to be impossible. So, they were in a stalemate. They were always in a stalemate, even when things had been 'good' between them.
"Do you truly want me to leave?" A vulnerable whisper. The last time Cleyo sounded vulnerable Cinna had made a promise he was not certain he could keep. It was also the night that he realized the intensity of his feelings for her.
"No." A whisper of his own. He didn't want her to leave. At the same time, he wanted her somewhere else, far away from the circuses of the Capitol. That wasn't an option, though. There wasn't anywhere safe in this world for anyone. Besides, Cleyo thrived off the affections of the frivolous Capitol citizens.
Sometimes, not even he could tell if her love of the mob was an act or not. Regardless of her true feelings, they certainly adored her. Just as he was born to create works of wearable art, Cleyo was born to entertain the masses. The Games did not last all year round. The mob loved their bloodbaths, but they also enjoyed their operas in the off-season. After all, there needed to be more than just one act in a circus to keep the crowd pleased.
In less than a breath, she was beside him at the window. Their hands nearly brushed, but she made no move to interlock their fingers despite the longing to do so. Always in a stalemate. He glanced down at her, eyes tracing the delicate features of her face. Almond shaped eyes. Petite nose. Full lips. Cinna could draw them in his sleep he had studied them so often during more stable times.
Her adherence to the Capital culture of alteration was subtle. In this poor lighting, it was almost easy to overlook the fact her hair was a shade of blue so dark it was nearly black. Most people assumed the extraordinarily pale blue eyes were also altered, but Cinna knew the stunning color was natural. However, he wasn't so certain about the nature of her perfect, porcelain skin. She'd always been fair, but the way she seemed to give off an iridescent glow made him think she'd had her skin altered in some way. Or perhaps the glow was an affect of having missed her.
"Good, I wasn't planning on leaving. Besides, it's midnight, and all the more important men have drunk themselves into a stupor by now. More importantly, you've been avoiding me," She accused him point-blank, watching his facial expression from the corner of her eyes.
"We've both been very busy."
"So busy you could not return my phone calls?" Her lip curled in something of a pretty snarl with the delivery of the heated words.
"Cleyo…" Cinna trailed off, not really knowing what to say or how to quell the forthcoming tirade he could see forming just behind her pursed lips. She'd never had any qualms with expressing herself overtly. Some might even call her volatile, but divas would be divas. It was her nature to be expressive, and that wasn't always such a terrible thing. The problem, of course, was that who could say whether or not the emotions she showed were real.
They were really not so different, the two of them. Neither wanted their true feelings known; only their methodology of hiding the truth differed. Cinna knew Cleyo well enough to know most of her public personality was a ruse. She was much more clever and calculating than given credit for but that was the point, wasn't it?
"I know I'm no longer your muse, darling, but it wouldn't kill you to pay some attention to me now and then for old time's sake. We have known each other almost all our lives, or have you forgotten?" She folded her arms across her chest, nearly glaring up at him now. "I know you have been busy with Katniss since the end of last years' Games. I am very aware of how much she has needed you through all this, and still needs you, but I've needed you too, Cinna. No one keeps me grounded like you do. Believe me. Ira and Charm make a good effort, but they certainly can't replace you in my life. No one can, hard as I try to do so." She nearly hissed through gritted teeth, preferring to express anger than pain.
As always, Cinna kept a smooth expression. Calm. Collected. He waited for her to finish the rant before dipping his head, "I am sorry for being distant. You must understand why. I did not meant to hurt you. Truthfully, I wasn't sure you would feel my absence." He did not dare to explain further for fear of who might be eavesdropping.
As prone as she was to dramatics, Cleyo was no fool. She knew the danger they were in, especially now with their Mockingjay a tribute in the Quarter Quell as punishment for defying the Capitol during the last games. More so, she knew how Cinna operated. She knew distancing himself was his way of protecting her from being associated with someone so close to the bane of the Capitol's existence. Still, it didn't make her any less upset. "I do understand what you were thinking even though I disagree with it completely." She rolled those pretty eyes of hers and huffed daintily, still irritated but no longer in the mood to bicker.
Cinna had to smile at the statement. It was not the first time in his life she'd directed it at him. Hearing it again, even in this dire situation, reminded him of simpler times back when they argued over silly things like which type of chocolate was superior.
Despite her best efforts to keep a coolly irritated expression, Cleyo eventually offered up a soft smile to match his. "Hard as I try, I just can't stay mad at you."
"I know. It be better if you could," He murmured softly, sighing again. If she could stay mad at him and therefore refused to associate with him, he wouldn't have to worry about getting her hurt.
"And they say I'm the dramatic one," She laughed cheerily even though the weight of their situation was not lost on her. Cleyo's laughter was short lived, and she finally broke the unseen barrier separating them by gently touching his arm. "I am sorry you thought you could slip away unnoticed. I know you'll never believe me, but I do love you."
"So you've told me before, but how many others have heard the same?" He delivered his usual response to her declaration of love for him with deadpan expression. Cleyo expected nothing else from him. The day he openly returned the sentiment would be the day she knew the world was truly ending. At least, she had convinced herself that Cinna secretly loved her and that he simply refused to admit it.
"So cold, Cinna, and here I was, thinking that the fires sweeping the nation would have kindled your inner flame for me as well, but I see you only continue to smolder beneath that indifferent exterior of yours," She lamented aloud, "but I am content to pine away, nursing my unrequited devotion for you, until my last breath. Doomed love affairs are all the rage these days. I might as well jump on the bandwagon."
He frowned, not at all amused by the joke, but Cleyo never appeared to take anything seriously. Even though Cinna knew it was her method of coping, he couldn't let it slide entirely. The thought of her dying young and on his account troubled him too much to let it go uncontested. "You will be so old when you take that last breath and have had so many love affairs between then and now, I will only be a very distant memory."
She let her hand drop from his arm, the force field separating them once again in place. "I would trade a hundred love affairs with a hundred Finnick Odairs for just one true romance with you no matter how brief, Cinna Antonel," She spoke without her usual theatrics, sounding weary even, and shifted her gaze out the window. For the briefest of moments, the diva seemed so very small and uncertain. It was in that moment that Cinna nearly lost the willpower to remain aloof, but before he could take her in his arms, Cleyo glanced back at him with a look of such sorrow it froze him in place.
"I am suddenly very tired. I believe your indifference has drained me of my energy," She smiled at him sadly. "I will leave you to your thoughts, then. Goodnight, Cinna. I am sorry for the intrusion." And with that, she turned to go, pausing only for a heartbeat when he opened his mouth to speak.
"Goodnight, Ms. Trifaye." The words sounded hollow, and he looked away as the disappointment washed over her features. He counted the steps as she walked away. "Wait. Stop…" Cinna barely called out the appeal before going after her.
Cleyo did as she was told but kept her back to him.
Cautiously, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into him until there was no space between them. Cinna buried his face in her hair, breathing her in for a moment, before finally being able to speak in a hushed whisper. "You are still my muse, Cleyo Trifaye. You are my first, my last, and my only. I would not have it any other way." His grip around her tightened, "if I should die an early death, it will not matter how cruel the methods, because as I take my last breath, I will think of you and be happy in that final moment." The fear of being overheard by unseen enemies had been replaced by the fear of things being left unspoken.
She barely managed to stifle the sob that his words evoked. What exactly he was planning, Cleyo knew better than to ask, but his message was clear. He was about to do something reckless, something stupid, something that would endanger his life. "You're breaking your promise…" Choked words but the only ones she could manage.
"Can you forgive me?" He released his grip on her only so he could move to stand in front of her. Tilting up her chin with a finger so she could not turn her face from him, he stared down at her with a truly pained expression.
"Yes. I suppose I can forgive you just this once," She had more control of her voice now, but just barely. "If…"
He let the finger tilting up her chin trace her jaw line, "…no, you cannot stay the night." Cinna had grown very adept at answering her questions before she could even ask them.
"No?" She arched a brow, a spark of impishness wheedling its way through the sorrow.
"No." He tried to sound firm.
"Oh. Pity. I'm suddenly no longer tired and very in the mood for other sort of things. Perhaps Finnick is still awake."
"Cleyo." A warning tone.
"Cinna." A teasing tone.
"It will only make things more difficult."
"For me or for you?" Cleyo knew the answer to that though. Not even a night together could weaken Cinna's resolve to do something when he had his mind set on it. "I don't care either way. So, make your decision, do you want my forgiveness or not? I've given my one condition. I'd like to forgive you, but the call is yours."
Cinna gently wiped the remaining tears off her cheeks, "you're impossible."
"I know. It's a gift."
He chuckled softly but sobered up quickly as he placed his forehead against hers, "someone may see you leaving in the morning."
"So? I'm not afraid of someone seeing me."
"I am and you should be."
"Fear is for people with something to lose, and you're robbing me of being able to feel it, darling."
"Humor me."
"Why should I? I dislike your sense of humor."
"Because I love you."
The straightforward confession rendered her speechless. She hadn't ever expected to actually hear Cinna utter those words, let alone offer them up so casually as if they were said all the time.
After what seemed like an eternity but was only a few minutes, Cleyo found her voice again. "I suppose that is a good enough reason."
"Thank you, Cleyo," Cinna lowered his face to kiss her gently on the lips but found himself sucked in to something far more passionate than planned. He'd forgotten how wonderful her lips felt and the way her body could arch so perfectly against his. The scent of jasmine and spice flooded his sense of smell. The softness of her skin overwhelmed his sense of touch. As he closes his eyes, Cinna became as lost in her as she in him.
Dawn found them tangled in sheets and each other. When the morning light woke them, not a word was spoken as Cleyo dressed herself in the last night's clothing. Cinna could not find the emotional strength to be angry with her for going against his wishes and spending the night. The blame wasn't hers alone. What was done was done and most of him was happy for it.
As Cleyo lingered by the door, neither could find the right words. Still, Cleyo could not quite get herself to leave just yet. They stared at one another from across the room. Cinna had not even left the bed yet, but he had untangled himself mostly from the sheets and was sitting on the edge. Neither had dared to go in for a final embrace or kiss that would have made the parting more unbearable. If they had, odds were Cleyo would not have even made it to the door.
They were in another stalemate. That is until Cleyo touched the middle three fingers of her left hand to her lips and held them out to him. Wordlessly, he mimicked the gesture. For a long moment, they held out their hands to each other in a final farewell. When the moment ended as all moments must, Cleyo slipped out the door as silently as she had entered the night before.
Cinna remained on the edge of the bed long after the scent of jasmine and spice began to fade before being able to motivate himself to make the final preparations on the dress for the tribute interviews.