CHAPTER VIII: INTERLUDE

Kishor Mahadio, 26;

Master of Ceremonies, SHE/HER

June 27th, An Interview with the Head Gamemaker; 2:15 PM

In the event of today's interview, Kishor hadn't been able to stop thinking about a certain memory from more than a decade ago. A peculiar bout of deja vu, perhaps, but certainly applicable to her and Lisung's current situation. It seemed almost a lifetime ago that Lisung and Kishor had been in high school together- sixteen, bright-eyed, regretless but hesitating all the same.

The memory in question started with Kishor walking down a vacant hallway, her flats clacking gently against tile. She had seen Lisung from the end of the hallway, but the other girl's eyes were stubbornly affixed to the floor, scrutinizing the marbled streaks with an almost laughable intensity.

Five feet away from Lisung, Kishor stopped in her tracks. "Hey," Kishor said, her voice silky, the kind of grace that only came from practiced artificiality. Lisung lifted her eyes from the floor nonchalantly, and Kishor might've been fooled if she didn't catch the way the girl's shoulders had tensed up at the sound of her greeting.

(She still can't hide anything, ten years later, Kishor thought, with some fondness. Guess some things never change.)

Kishor pointed to the door to the auditorium. "This the room?"

For a second, the girl didn't react. Then suddenly, she stuck out her hand and cleared her throat. "Jarstova," Lisung said. "Lisung Jarstova."

"I know," Kishor replied, amused. "I haven't forgotten."

Lisung's cheeks flushed. She turned away, not saying anything else. Kishor didn't know what to say either, so she opted to just chuckle instead. She held the door open the door and without missing a beat, Lisung ducked inside. They began their descent, several platforms and a hundred-or-so steps before they reached the bottom of the velvet cavern, facing the stage. It was only slightly smaller than a theatre hall, but still sizeable. Lisung stood motionlessly, not making any moves to climb up onto the stage. She was rigid as a board, clutching her notecards in both of her hands. Her knuckles were white. They were both silent for a long while.

"I didn't know you were in debate," Lisung said, at last.
"I'm not." Kishor hopped backwards, perching herself on the ledge of the stage. "I'm in the theatre circuit."

"And Ms. Xither asked for your assistance?"

"Mhm. She got busy. I owe her a favor." Kishor ignored her emphasis on your. "Don't be relieved; I'll work you harder than Ms. Xither."

Lisung let out a dry chuckle. "Relieved? I wouldn't dare dream of it." Another silence blanketed the auditorium.

(Kishor remembered wanting to ask a million things. How have you been the last couple months? What have you been up to? Are you still trying to be a Gamemaker? How come you haven't talked to me since summer?)

Well. It wouldn't have been fair for Kishor to ask that last question. She hadn't made the effort to reach out to Lisung, either. Still, Kishor had been hoping that Lisung would initiate the conversation, that she would approach her first, but no dice. Kishor opened her mouth to ask a question.

Why are you avoiding me?

"What is it you need help with?" Kishor said.

Lisung shifted to the side. "Well," she said. "It's come to my attention that my… public speaking skills are lacking."

"Really? You've never been shy. You speak in front of an audience just fine."

"Well, that's not really the issue, it's true. But I'm monotone. Boring. Ms. Xither says I lack sincerity in my tone. And I'm not convincing."

"Oh, damn."

"What's the secret?
"The secret?"

"Yeah. Kishor, you always sound so…" Lisung snapped her fingers a couple times, her eyebrows pulling knitting together for a second before settling on an adjective. "You always sound so genuine, even in front of a camera. Alive. How do you do that?"

"Well, you have to believe what you're saying, no?"

Lisung looked exasperated. "Of course. I know that, but it's not that easy. And plus-" she sighed, "-it's debate. All of the topics are bullshit; rarely ever will I actually care about the side I'm arguing for."

Kishor thought for a moment. "Believe your own words," she repeated. "Even if you have to delude yourself. Even if you have to lie. Even if you have to fake it. And be sure to make it actually comprehensible and entertaining."

"Oh, joy. Lying. And being entertaining. Because I'm great at that."

That startled a laugh out of Kishor. Lisung looked a little victorious for a moment, but her smug expression was gone the next. "Really. I don't like lying. Er, at least, pretending to care about something that I don't," she said. "In debate, I don't have to care- my facts and my logic just have to outweigh my opponent's."

"Hm," Kishor sighed. "It's not that hard to fake it, you know. It can be easy. The deception doesn't have to be overt- a lot of it is just body language. People like expression, but too much makes you look tacky, too little makes you look stiff. You've gotta strike a balance."

"And how do you suppose I do that?"

"Do you trust me?"

A question mark hovered over Lisung's face. "Do I what?"

"Trust me." Kishor stood up on the stage, peering down on Lisung. She outstretched her hand.

Lisung hesitated for a moment. Then she took Kishor's hand. Kishor hoisted the other girl up on stage, laughing silently as she bounded back to stabilize the both of them. Their steps echoed like heartbeats buried underneath wooden boards.

A decade was a long time. A lot had changed. A decade later, Lisung's charisma had drastically improved. Lisung could speak on national television without a shred of her former monotony, all parts harmonious and vibrant.

At the same time, a decade was nothing at all. Lisung was still avoiding Kishor. Lisung seemed to be under the impression that Kishor didn't remember her from their high school days. True, it had been near a decade without any contact, and admittedly, Kishor didn't recognize the fresh-faced Gamemaker until her eyes glazed over the identification badge. It took half a day later, in the middle of a meeting before Kishor realized why the name Lisung Jarstova felt so familiar to her. Since then, the memories had begun unearthing themselves, one by one. It was all a tentative process, and thus far, the memory of them in the auditorium was the only one Kishor was able to recall in vivid detail, but even then, she couldn't even remember the advice she had given Lisung. Everything else was in hazy pieces, blurs of motion.

So maybe it wasn't all completely clear, but Kishor knew that she had known Lisung before they became co-workers. How long Lisung would keep pretending Kishor was dense she couldn't tell. Still, she wasn't in a rush to correct the Head Gamemaker. She could keep the secret for now.

"C'mon, let's get the cameras rolling!" Kishor signaled the Avox behind the camera with a dramatic sweep of her hand, watching impassively as they scurried into position. She sauntered onto set with Lisung at her heels, quietly following her lead. The set was just an open white box in the middle of the room, on the cramped side of comfy, but a little editing magic would make it look vast, expansive, infinite from the camera lens. There were only two seats, placed diagonally against the corners of a polished geode table. The floor of the set was white, the walls white, the ceiling white; everything was a searing, blinding white aside from the table and the two women themselves. All catered to the aesthetic Lisung chose personally.

It wasn't exactly up to speed in terms of what was trendy. Lisung had always been very minimal and practical, which was quite unbecoming of her as a Capitolite in Kishor's opinion, but she sort of liked that about her. Lisung didn't care to stick to the mold, instead operating on her own terms and preferences. Her fondness for timeless and classic designs went completely against what was considered conventional, in the Capitol's broken sense of the concept.

Side by side, Kishor and Lisung were most definitely peculiar sight to behold; Lisung with her monochromatic grey color scheme and uniform texture, the accented gold pinstripes of her blazer and her dainty chains glinting metallic under the spotlight. Kishor, on the other hand, was the striking image of gaudy and superfluous, with all the shades of pink adorned on her person. All of her pieces were asymmetrical and looked almost to be buffering, the way the pinks on her trenchcoat, eyeliner, headscarf, acrylic nails couldn't seem to agree on a specific hue. Chaotic indeed, but still made cohesive with a healthy reservoir of lace and gloss.

Never mind if the set was rather bare, or even if their outfits clashed. Nothing of Kishor's, sets and outfits alike ever lasted for longer than an event, ever overstayed their welcome. There were other trends to try, other styles to exhaust, and millions of resources at her disposal. There was so much to discover- Panem forbid she ever choose to settle.

Kishor sat down and nodded at Lisung to do the same. The Head Gamemaker lowered herself down carefully, her chains twinkling against the marble seat noisily. Kishor gave her a smile for reassurance and then turned to rap the geode table with her knuckles. Its screen flickered to life before Kishor even had to touch the table. Intuitive, she remarked, impressed. The flat-screen that hung on the wall behind them whirred to life, its contents identical to the table-screen's.

"You remember what order the slides come in?" Kishor asked Lisung, for confirmation. "Mm," Lisung hummed in response. Her eyes were looking into hers, but they were unfocused. She sounded a little preoccupied, as if there were more words on the tip of her tongue than she was letting out.

Kishor raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question. Lisung seemed to ponder for a second longer before shaking her head slightly, lips pursed in a strained smile. Later, she mouthed, apologetic.

'Kay, Kishor mouthed back. The studio lights began to dim while the spotlights only seemed to grow harsher. "Whenever you're ready," Kishor shouted, and a countdown quickly followed suit. Her words were directed at the staff, but her eyes were averted towards Lisung's profile. The woman didn't seem to hear her, but no longer did she seem unfocused. Her eyes were zeroed into the lens of the camera. Suddenly, the advice she had given to Lisung a decade prior came flooding back, bleeding into the present.

A forceful breath, to expand your diaphragm. Shoulders back. For you, I think you should keep your head angled down and cocked to the side just a smidge, like you know you're better than everyone else in the room. A little more- yeah, just like that. A smug smile wouldn't be too bad, either. I think you could pull it off. She watched as Lisung went through the motions, unraveling the routine in a familiar but careful glissando. Kishor swallowed, and looked away.

The camera whirred to life, and then it was showtime. She smiled, her teeth as dazzling as the jewels on her acrylics, as the luster on Lisung's chain belt. All mundanity began to ebb away in favor of a persona more calculating, enigmatic, magnetic. "My darling Capitolites, today we have none other than our newly crowned Head Gamemaker Lisung Jarstova with us here on set today!" The Master of Ceremonies exclaimed, preening under the spotlight. Now, it was her turn to lie.

The interview flew by quick. Fifteen minutes on the dot, just like all the other interviews on her show. "Perfect, Lisung-ah," Kishor beamed. "Good shit. And to think that you'd been nervous about this!"

"I wasn't nervous," Lisung murmured, turning pink.

Kishor rolled her eyes. "Aiyah, don't give me that bullshit." Playfully, she punched Lisung's cladded arm but she wiped the smile from her face when Lisung seemed to flinch under her touch. The woman was still behaving amiss. All discomfort had seemed to disappear as soon as the cameras started rolling, but now that Lisung was back out from under the spotlight, she once again seemed bothered.

Kishor let concern trickle into her expression. "Hey, if it wasn't nerves, then what's up?" she said gently. Lisung's head was bent down towards the side as she stood there, unmoving and unspeaking. Kishor did not wait. She hooked her pointer finger under Lisung's jaw and her thumb on the woman's chin, forcing her to look straight into Kishor's eyes. And look she did, helplessly, mouth agape.

"Tell me," Kishor demanded.

"I, ah, uh..." Lisung stuttered, at a loss for words. Something told Kishor that it wasn't because of reluctance or unwillingness to speak this time. It was almost entertaining to watch as the Head Gamemaker scrambled clumsily to come up with something to say. "Is it really okay for me to tell you?" Lisung whispered at last.

Kishor said nothing. Her only answer was to stare back into Lisung's grey eyes. It was funny; they should've been icy, steely, unyielding. Instead, they seemed to almost be… pleading. Lisung had never been good at concealing what she felt, which was an absolute necessity in this line of work, especially as the Head Gamemaker. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was a fucking deathwish. Not yet hard, not yet desensitized, but Kishor would prove to make a menace out of her yet. Whether Kishor liked it or not.

The prolonged eye contact proved to be too much for Lisung. She buckled down quickly, yanking her chin free from Kishor's grip. "Answer me," she spat, not looking at Kishor. "Please. Is it really okay?"

Is what okay? Kishor began growing frustrated. So vague. What the fuck does that even mean? "What is it you're worried about?" she said, a little sourly. "I really don't understand. You did good."

"Ki- Mahadio, you think I did good on that stage?" Lisung yelled. "That's because I lied! I lied through my fucking teeth!"

Well, 'tis showbiz! Kishor wanted to say, but she shot down her retort before she could regret it. "Lisung," she said through gritted teeth, jerking her head towards the door of a side closet pointedly. "I'd love to talk about all this, just maybe… somewhere else?" At this point, the studio only had a couple lingering stragglers, but if Kishor was correct in her assumption as to where the conversation was heading, it was too risky to talk about this in open air. Lisung heaved a sigh out, and she seemed to grow years older with just that exhale alone. She bowed her head down and nodded, quirking her lip to the side. "Probably smart," she said hollowly, allowing Kishor to drag her into the closet. She said nothing when Kishor flicked the light on and slid the lock into place.

"The light's kind of busted." Kishor said, an half-hearted apology buried somewhere in her voice. The lights cast little more than a dull fog in the closet. The space wasn't small by any means, but it was packed with rotating racks of clothing. With that in mind, it was a little tight, but nothing Kishor couldn't manage. Lisung, on the other hand, looked like she was suffocating.

"You all right?" Kishor asked. Lisung provided a shaky "uh-huh" in response.

Kishor crossed her arms. "Ready to talk yet?" she prompted again. No one could blame her if she sounded a little less patient than when she asked the first time. Lisung relaxed for a fraction of a millisecond before screwing them back up, her shoulders taut like the springs inside a music box. Kishor's frustration dissolved into something more resigned. Okay, she sighed. She stepped towards Lisung, her hands palming the crook between the woman's neck and shoulders before she could protest. "You've seriously gotta relax, Lisung," she whispered.

Lisung stiffened, but after a couple seconds she let herself melt like wax under Kishor's touch. "Jarstova," she muttered, averting her eyes.

Caught off-guard, Kishor almost laughed at Lisung's correction. "Oh? You didn't seem to mind when I called you Lisung earlier."

"Well, I was preoccupied. I hardly even noticed."

"You're not preoccupied now?" Kishor purred.

Lisung had the decency to look scandalized. "Preoccupied? With what?" she said incredulously. "We're- we're not doing anything!"

Kishor smirked, taking her hands off of Lisung's shoulders. She pretended not to notice when Lisung recoiled at the sudden absence of pressure. "Well, it definitely seems you've relaxed if you're already back to correcting and getting smart with me." Kishor said, shifting back into interrogation mode. "Wanna tell me what the fuck's up now? What do you mean 'is it okay'? What do you mean you were lying?"

"I feel like you know just as well as I do what I meant."

"No, I genuinely have no idea. I'm coming up short. Drawing a blank. Please, enlighten me."

Something complicated fluttered over Lisung's expression. She mirrored Kishor's stance and crossed her arms, as if trying to add some sort of layer of physical distance between the both of them. "Well, to preface this with a disclaimer, I just want to say-"

"You're not talking to the Master of Ceremonies right now, Lisung. It's just me. Kishor." She made sure to enunciate the next part clearly. "Your friend."

Lisung seemed to wince at that. "I… okay. I don't want you or your dad to think I'm ungrateful or anything," she said, "but like… this? All of this?" She scribbled at the air with her hands, the gesture spastic and uncoordinated. "I sincerely don't think I'm cut out to handle any of it properly."

Sincerely, what is this bitch on about. "What?" Kishor said, intelligently.
"Like," Lisung sighed, exasperated. "I don't think- no, I'm not qualified to hold this position. Not in the slightest. I'm not capable enough to do what Head Gamemakers do, and maybe I should've realized and quitted this path before I got to this point, but instead, I stubbornly stuck to it, thinking that passion was enough to coast me through this shit." She ran one hand through her scalp, mussing her ponytail even more in the process. "And granted, it's been fun, like, a lot of fun, but I can't help but feel that I'm not doing enough, and the work that I am doing is littered with- with mistakes. There's so much I feel that I'm missing and no matter how much I finish everyday, I always feel like there should be more, and the next morning I wake up everyday to a bunch of shit I forgot."
"That's normal," Kishor said, but before she could even try to console her, Lisung cut her off.

"Like, the last week alone, I made so many mistakes. I can name every single one off of my fingers," Lisung exclaimed. "I forgot to tell the Arena Designer about the new sponsorship system, and now he has to go back and reconstruct shit and accommodate for my negligence. I forgot there was a certain mutt quota that we had to meet so I had to find scrounge up more artists to commission concept art for new mutts, I fuckin' reset the document containing the Arena events, I haven't even elected escorts for Districts Six, Eight, and Ten-"

This time, it was Kishor who cut her off. "I'm telling you, normal. Plus, it's not a normal year. Bad timing and unprecedented circumstances and all that bullshit, nothing you haven't heard before. Head Gamemaker Jekyll had a secretary for this sort of stuff. You have nobody, but despite that, you're doing really- really well." Kishor let a little bit of awe seep into her voice. "There's nobody I know more meticulous, more thorough than you, Lisung."

The woman blushed a little at her words. "Thanks," she said, but the bashfulness did not steep for long. "Regardless, with a secretary or not, everything lies on my shoulders. The Capitolites aren't gonna forgive me if I don't meet their expectations, if I don't blow their goddamn minds; they don't care about 'bad timing' or 'unprecedented circumstances' or whatever else is going on behind the scenes, Kishor. They just want to be entertained, and if I don't provide, then I'll never hear the end of it. My career will be over just as quick as it began." She shook her head. "You know, there are people out there already suspecting I'm a fraud."

"People are saying you're a what?" Kishor repeated, genuinely incredulous.

"They think I'm full of shit!" The woman exclaimed. "And you know the worst part about it? They're right. They know that I only got this position through connections, because they think we're close and you recommended me to your dad, so when Jekyll quit, I was the most convenient shoo-in. Kishor, my integration was so hasty. There's no denying that. I was literally informed of the promotion and tossed into office just a fuckin' week ago. Which is crazy to me, because I feel like I've aged fifty years since then. But I digress. I had nobody to show me the ropes because my predecessor decided to just fuck off and skip town- like, where the fuck is Jekyll at, genuinely- so I'm actually out here equipped with nothing. Last year I was in the bottommost tier of Gamemakers, and now I'm here and I'm expected to, to just know what the fuck I'm doing? I'm drawing all my conclusions from the past years' masterdocs and winging it from there. I'm spending half my waking hours in phone calls and meetings and the other half just studying like how I did back in university when I was getting my degree in Games Technology. It's so bad," Lisung laments. She inhales shakily. "I feel like anyone, literally anyone on the Gamemaker team could be doing a better job than me. I'm- I'm just some stupid kid compared to the senior Gamemakers. All I have is quote-en-quote 'novelty' and 'innovation', but I feel like it's more a product of my amateurity than it is my actual skill. I don't think I'm capable. I don't think I deserve this."

Lisung's voice cracked towards the end of her sentence, and then dipped into silence. It took moments longer than it should have for Kishor to realize she herself was shaking.

"How can you say that?" Kishor whispered, edging on a hiss.

"It's the truth," Lisung replied, her voice hoarse. She sounded like she had already given up, and it infuriated Kishor.

Kishor repeated herself. "How can you say all that, about your passion and your determination, your novelty and your innovation, and then go on to say it's for all those reasons you shouldn't be the Head Gamemaker? Are you even hearing yourself?!" she demanded. "This is the shittiest argument I've ever heard. The fuck did high school debate teach you if not basic reasoning? You deserve the position, Lisung. I swear to you, you are more than qualified. Have you seen how goddamn boring the last couple years' Games have been under Jekyll's supervision? Literally the only saving grace from the 98th was the Feast, and that was because you planned it. You, no one else, despite being in the bottommost tier." Kishor was talking so animatedly that a piece of curly hair fell out from her lace barrette. With an irritated huff, she tucked it behind her ear hastily. "Yes, I'll be honest. My interference and my recommendation were major factors in your promotion to Head Gamemaker. But not the selling pitch. You like your objectivity so much," Kishor said pointedly, "then we'll step back and look at this, objectively. When Jekyll took his leave, you were one of three recommended candidates to take over the team in his stead. As in, he selected you. And let's not forget your reputation; you've done several interviews in the past when you were just a regular Gamemaker, and the Capitol loves you. You're young, you're beautiful, and you're giving them everything they could possibly want from behind the screen. You meet all the requirements. Checks all across the board.

"Furthermore, I didn't suggest you to my dad because of bias. I know when my dad called you I was all like, 'You like my gift?' but I thought you knew I had just been fucking around. I didn't tap my dad's shoulder and ask, 'Can Lisung be the next Head Gamemaker, pretty please?' In fact, I'm a little insulted you'd think I'd abuse my relationship with my dad like that. That I'd throw it around so recklessly," Kishor sniffied. "No, as the Master of Ceremonies and valued constituent of the Hunger Games industry, I employed my expertise and experience and assessed you to be the most fit person in the team to assume the newly vacant role of Head Gamemaker. I know you're diligent, I know you're passionate, and I know you will stop at nothing to make these Games perfect."

She paused for a moment to collect herself, their breaths mingling and intertwining in the silence. "From the perspective of a professional, I trusted you to do a good job. And I still do. You will not disappoint the Capitol. You will not disappoint me."

It sounded less like a profession of faith than it did an order. Kishor suddenly realized how parched she was.

"But," Lisung croaked, "they know that I'm only where I am because I got help."
Oh, my god. This woman is going to be the fucking death of me.

"Lisung, where would anyone be without help? You're gonna need to take it at some point," Kishor fumed. "It's all or nothing with you, isn't it? Either you get the position on your own accord or not at all, otherwise you won't be satisfied, huh?

"Be fuckin' honest with yourself. It doesn't even matter if there was something shady happening behind the scenes. Sacrificing your integrity is well worth it if you get to reap the overarching benefits once everything's over. What's it called- it's a means to an end, a fucked up process to get to the desired result. The Capitolites, they honestly don't give a shit what you're doing. They won't even blink twice; their eyes will solely be glued on your work, your Games, the illusion you fabricated, the web you spun, the lie you created. As long as you're delivering, that's all they will care about. Whether they know you got help, it does not matter. Authenticity does not matter. The truth does not matter. None of it-" Kishor choked. "-none of it fucking matters."

Lisung stared at her, speechless.

Fuck, she thought.

Kishor had spoken everything that came to her mind, unfiltered, unadulterated. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let herself do that, if ever- and in front of Lisung, of all people.

Even so, Kishor couldn't even muster the decency to look or feel apologetic. For some reason, speaking candidly didn't feel like such a sin in front of Lisung. Those same grey eyes just stared at her wordlessly, without judgement. Nothing like a camera, nothing like the hungry eyes of society.

"High school debate?" Lisung said, a ghost of a smile playing on the edge of her lips. "So… you remember?"

Kishor almost wanted to smile. It was refreshing. Liberating.

Vulnerable. Too vulnerable. Kishor had to divert the focus. She didn't want Lisung to see her like this, deconstructed, raw, undone. No- Kishor had to be in control of how she was being perceived at all times. Even in front of Jarstova.

"Kish-" Jarstova started to say, but the Master of Ceremonies placed her lips on hers with a chaste kiss, cutting her off before she could say her full first name. With a snap of her fingers, the lights slowly flickered out of existence.

"Wh-"
Kishor found herself echoing words from the past. "Do you trust me?" She breathed, her lips hovering over Jarstova's. A remnant of a past all too unreachable, yet all too close.

"Do I… trust you…?"

Kishor said nothing.

The Head Gamemaker's response came quickly anyway, resuming the script that had been dropped a decade prior. Lisung had always been a fast learner. "...of course," she breathed.
"Good. Just… focus on me."

"Focus on you," Jarstova murmured. Kishor could practically feel the other woman's resolve begin to rust away, like she were faulty machinery. A robot crossing the lines into what it means to be human, engineered by none other than Kishor herself.

She smiled, satisfied. "That's right," Kishor said. "You've got this."

a/n: [rubs my grimy little gremlin hands] big lesbinas… all for brooke…

genuinely i think this is the most self-indulgent thing i have ever written in my life. maybe i should've prefaced with this from the beginning but yes my subplot is just lesbians. yes yup just lesbians No Angst No Pain. ha ha. Yes. i hope u enjoyed because u bet ur wet-and-gushy there's is more of it to come B)) a big fat thank you to logan and lindsay for beta-reading for me this week! :hee: i was nervous but they offered nothing short of the utmost support i fucking love these whores

q: would you eat a tiny two-inch person for 100 million dollars

$wag im out this bitch,

bork