Chapter Fourteen | I am a cloud that ventures into it.

"Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead, stabbed

With a white wench's black eye, run through the ear with

A love song."

2.3, 13-15 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

Cashmere knows her brother like the back of her hand. They've always been inseparable from an early age. He would follow her around like a lost puppy when they were younger, wanting to be a part of her world. Since they were only a year apart, she'd let him. He had always been her best friend, the only one she ever needed.

When she volunteered for the Games, he was quick to follow. She had been furious at him for a long time for his stupidity. Neither of them had truly known what they were doing when they raised their hands up and shouted, 'I volunteer,' before anyone else could. Once she had won, Cashmere had realized pretty quickly what a Victor's life was really like, and it wasn't anything like the veneered glamor that she had always pictured it to be. It was dark and it was scary, and when Gloss joined the ranks of Victors a year later, she was so upset that she couldn't even talk to him for weeks without it turning into a shouting match. She wishes she could have dissuaded him from volunteering. Maybe it would have made him think twice about following her, this time.

Or maybe it wouldn't. Gloss is fiercely loyal. Even if he had known, back then, exactly what he was getting himself into, he probably wouldn't have stopped himself from volunteering. By then, he had discovered what sort of life Cashmere was living as a new Victor, and she knows that the reason he volunteered was to help her bear that burden. That's just how he is when it comes to the people he loves. She knows him too well to think otherwise. Which is why she knows that there's something going on with him now.

They've just returned to District 1 after another trip into the Capitol. Though their visits are sometimes separate from one another, they usually go in at the same time. Snow likes to have them do interviews and photoshoots together. They're a pair, and that's the image he's cultivated since they won their Games.

They've been home for about three days now, and as always after a trip to the Capitol, they've both sequestered themselves into their house. Snow had given them both separate houses when they won, but they mostly live together at Cashmere's place. It's nice to have someone around who understands your nightmares and is ready to make a midnight cup of tea to help calm you down from them. Besides, living by yourself in one of these huge houses makes you feel like the loneliest person in the world.

"Want some hot cocoa?" Cashmere asks from the kitchen, voice muffled as she riffles through the cabinets in search of the tin of powdered chocolate. It's her favorite drink, which is a little amusing because District 1 is so hot already. She says it makes her feel warm and happy though, and Gloss doesn't have it in him to complain about how much money she spends on the stuff.

"Nah," he returns, barely looking up at her from his seat on the couch. The kitchen and living are connected in a large, sweeping layout. If he lifts his head, he can see into the kitchen without any problem. As it is, though, his head is lowered and eyes are staring at the flickering light of the television. Capitol Nightly is on, a talk show hosted by Claudius Templesmith in which he goes over the current events of the Capitol. Sometimes he'll talk about things happening in the other districts too, but only if they relate somehow to the workings of the main city. It's called 'Capitol Nightly' for a reason, after all.

Anyway, tonight he's talking about the Victory Tour of the latest Victor, a girl from District 2 that he can't remember the name of. She'd just given her speech in District 5 that morning and the camera shows off the main square of the grey city, highlighting the speech for the Capitol audience back in their homes. They do like their Victors, especially new Victors, and the girl from District 2 has a certain way about her that the Capitol is obsessed with. Gloss, though, is far more focused on someone else.

Harley Balstrod and Elara Winston, the only two Victors in District 5, are also standing on the stage while the new Victor gives her customary speech. They're both camera-ready, dressed up and wearing nice clothes. Gloss barely pays any attention at all to the rehearsed words that spew from the new Victor's lips. He's far too busy studying Elara.

Only a few weeks ago, she'd been in his bed at his high rising Capitol apartment without a stitch of clothing in sight. He can still imagine the scent of that floral shampoo she uses. For days after, the scent had lingered on his pillows. He wouldn't tell a soul, but he swears it lessened his nightmares for those few days, until the remnants of her had vanished and the nightmares came back at full force.

He wouldn't tell a soul that he thinks he's starting to feel something more for Elara Winston, either. Nor would he make mention that the sight of her now feels strangely therapeutic, even though a large part of him desperately wishes he didn't just have to look at her through a screen. He won't say that he misses the bold way she's accustomed herself to his body, as if she's made it her mission to explore every inch of him. He also won't say that he misses her, because that is a dangerous road to go down and he knows that it won't end well for him.

Really though, he doesn't have to say any of those things, because Cashmere knows him so well that she can read his thoughts as they pan out over the planes of his face. She watches him idly, trying not to be obvious as she leans against the kitchen counter and waits for the water to boil. He hasn't looked away from Elara even once since she appeared on screen. He doesn't look like he's even aware of what Templesmith is saying.

There's something in his eyes that Cashmere dares not draw attention to. He's so immersed in his thoughts that he doesn't even realize he's letting them show themselves so clearly in his expression. But he is. She can read the soft desire clear as day in the creases of his gaze. If she didn't know her brother so well, she might even say that he's pining after that woman, as if he actually misses her.

It's ridiculous. He's being so stupid. They both know that Victors don't get to choose anything in their lives. The fact that he's getting involved in this sort of clandestine relationship with a Victor from District 5 of all places is idiotic of him. The repercussions if they get found out could be dire. Gloss and Cashmere don't have anyone anymore who they need to protect, besides each other. But Elara has a sister, if Cashmere remembers correctly, and family members make wonderful targets. She would know. That's how their own parents died, after all.

This is getting out of hand. That's clear enough to her as she watches the expressions flicker over her brother's face. She's never seen him pay so much attention to a woman before. He'd fooled around plenty before his Games, but since his victory and everything that had followed, Gloss hasn't been in an actual relationship. And even when he had brought home girlfriends, back when their lives were normal and they were still a whole and undivided family with parents who were still alive…he had never looked at any of those girls in the same way that he's looking at Elara Winston's stoic face on Templesmith's late night television program.

"District 5 is a pretty gloomy place," Cashmere says. Her voice is careful and slightly prodding. She watches Gloss's expression with her arms crossed over her chest, and when he glances over at her, they both know that she isn't actually talking about District 5.

He shifts a little in his seat and shrugs, "I don't know. There's something appealing about it."

She raises an eyebrow and he mirrors the look, eyes blazing now with a challenge that Cashmere knows only too well.

"It's depressing and dark," she retorts. A part of her wonders why she's even bothering.

Gloss laughs her words off and says, "Maybe. But there's good things about it too."

She gives him an unimpressed look. The water begins to boil on the stove, so she pushes off from the counter to pour some of it into her mug. As she's stirring in the hot cocoa, she sarcastically drawls, "Well, you're an expert now, I suppose."

There's a warning construed in his eyes when he catches her gaze with his. She meets it head on with a warning of her own, and for a moment, they just stare at each other from across the room, neither willing to give in. Their arguments are epic, sometimes, and loud, but this one is more stubborn than angry. Truth be told, Cashmere is mainly just worried about what he's getting himself into. He must know that, otherwise he'd be giving into his aggravation right now.

"…I wouldn't say that," he finally mutters, turning his gaze back to the screen. A moment after he does, the scene flickers back to Templesmith's face and the man starts saying something about how the new Victor will be heading off to District 4 in the morning to continue her tour. Elara Winston is gone from the TV, and Gloss frowns. His sister notices, of course, and it doesn't make her feel any less worried.

"I would," she counters, walking into the living room with her steaming mug and taking a seat in her favorite armchair. Gloss glances at her with a frown and she frowns right back as she carefully says, "I get that you did her a…favor, that first time, but don't you think this is getting out of hand?"

His frown deepens. A part of him regrets telling Cashmere about that first night, but she can be stubborn when she applies herself to his problems, and besides, they tell each other things that most siblings would probably keep to themselves. It's the nature of their relationship, and they don't exactly have anyone else to talk to. He had told her about how he'd helped Winston out during her first time. As for all the times after that, he didn't have to tell Cashmere. She isn't blind, and she's closer to Gloss than anyone else is. At least, she thinks she is, though now she's beginning to wonder if this Elara Winston isn't starting to go toe to toe with her.

It's not that she's jealous or anything, it's just that Gloss is playing a game that is off limits to Victors, and she's concerned that if Snow finds out about it, they'll incite his wrath. Love, or whatever this is, isn't meant for them. And even though Gloss has adamantly denied that his relations with Winston are nearly as emotional as that, Cashmere knows that there's something more to it than he's admitting to himself. He wouldn't be staring longingly at the woman's face like he'd just been doing if there wasn't. He's stubborn though, and acutely private when it comes to the emotions he usually pretends he doesn't have, even with his own sister.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's just a casual thing?" he asks. His voice is getting a little angry, like he's annoyed that they're having this conversation again. He stares at Cashmere with a firm gaze, as if he's challenging her to refute his words.

Well, Cashmere isn't the type to bow down to a challenge, especially when its being issued by her obstinate brother.

"You might believe that, but I don't," she quips. "There's nothing casual about the way you look at her."

He jerks back a little as if he's surprised to hear this, and then promptly demands, "How do I look at her?" As if he doesn't already know.

Cashmere rolls her eyes impatiently and says, "Like she's important to you. Like she makes you happy."

If he'd been surprised before, now he looks a little rattled. Is he really so blind to his own nature? Does he really not see what Cashmere sees? He's such an idiot.

"…She does make me happy," he mutters, eyes turning into a glare, like he thinks Cashmere might laugh at him for his honesty. When she doesn't, he adds, "She makes me feel…human. It's not like I love her, Cash. We've talked about it. We've agreed that it's just a form of release."

Any other sibling might have ended the conversation there, totally uninterested in talking about something so deep with a family member. But Cashmere and Gloss aren't normal siblings. Besides, she's far too stubborn to let this subject drop that easily.

She rubs her forehead in frustration and tells him, "Look, Gloss, I'm not saying you don't deserve this, especially considering everything the Capitol has taken from us. But – this is dangerous. You know that."

He does know it. She sees it in his eyes as he looks away from her with a glower.

She sighs, "If Snow finds out – "

"He won't find out," he denies, with an adamance that surprises her. He turns back to stare at her with blazing eyes, and she raises her eyebrows at the expression. She's not sure she's ever seen him so…determined before.

He rolls his eyes at her and stands up, evidently finished with this conversation. "And even if he does find out, it's not like we're doing anything wrong. It's just a form of release, Cash. Snow can't fault us for that. We don't love each other and we never will. I could…never fall in love with someone like her."

He swallows and a strange expression crosses over his face, as if the words feel off to him even as he utters them. Cashmere wants to slap some sense into him because it's fairly clear that even he knows he's wrong, at least on some level. But, as usual, Gloss ignores his own emotions like they're the plague, and after a moment spent grappling with the strange sensation that passes through him, he straightens his shoulders and says, "I'm going out. I'll be back for dinner."

The door slams as he leaves, and Cashmere finally gives into the desire to roll her eyes. She stands behind what she says on a daily basis: her brother is a total idiot.

"How have you been?" Elara asks Cashmere as they sit down for lunch at a little family owned restaurant on the western end of the Capitol. It hasn't been very long since last they saw each other. The Games ended only a few weeks ago, but Elara's schedule hasn't given her much time to rest before having to return to this place. Cashmere is in a similar boat this time around, though her brother isn't set to return for another few months.

A few days after receiving her new schedule, Elara had finally called him. The crushing disappointment of hearing that she wouldn't see Gloss again for months had put her into a gloomy mood that had lasted for weeks. The only redeeming aspect of their current circumstances is that he'll have plenty of downtime where he won't be forced to deal with the brunt of his demons. She's happy for that, at least, even though the selfish part of her wishes he could be here anyway.

Cashmere sends her a sidelong glance as she reaches for her menu, and says, "I've been fine. A little overworked, but fine." She sends her a grimacing look that tells Elara exactly how she's been 'overworked', and Elara cringes at her.

To be honest, Cashmere is really the only person Elara talks to about her this aspect of her life. As a fellow woman who is also involved in the darker depths of Snow's manipulation, she understands what Elara goes through on a more innate level than Gloss. Though Gloss also occasionally has these kinds of clients, he also deals with a completely different aspect of manipulation than Cashmere and Elara. His Talent is modeling, so most of the time when he's in the Capitol, he's at photoshoots for magazines or at meetings with the photographers of some of the larger clothing companies. He has some nightly clients too, but he busier with modeling work than anything else.

Besides, it's different, in a way, for the male Victors. This brand of manipulation is terrible no matter who you are, but it isn't the same when you are a woman forced into such a life. Cashmere understands it, and they usually have a very open dialogue about what they're made to do and who their clients are. Elara talks about it more openly with her than she does with Gloss.

"…You have a full schedule, then," Elara murmurs, eyeing Cashmere for a moment before turning her attention to her menu, too. They have that in common, it seems. She usually has a couple of free nights in between clients, but this visit is busier than usual. Perhaps it's just as well that Gloss isn't here. She wouldn't get to see much of him anyway.

"Mmm," Cashmere agrees with a hum, and quietly says, "I've got Crane scheduled for tonight. I thought he preferred you, so I was a little surprised when I saw that."

Elara cringes a little at the words, but she doesn't deny them. Seneca Crane does seem to like her. He's taken her out to dinner several times now, which is almost unheard of for clients. Some of the more important ones like to flaunt the Victors by going out on the town and into the public eye, pretending to 'date' them for a little while. The Capitol eats it up, loving the drama and the tabloids that result from the so-called dates. They don't know what goes on once night falls and the curtains close, though. It's really all just a big game to the Capitolites – both the spectators and the important clients. Victors are commodities, after all. Soulless machinations without free will.

"Yeah, well, you can take him," Elara grumbles. "I will warn you though that he tends to have some weird fantasies."

Cashmere raises an eyebrow and mutters, "Wonderful. What kind of fantasies?"

There's no embarrassment in her voice when Elara answers her. At this point, it's kind of hard to be embarrassed around Cashmere. As aggressive as their relationship had been in the beginning, they're practically sisters these days. Warning each other about clients is common practice between them.

With a shrug, Elara says, "Roleplay, mainly. There was this one time when he wanted me to dress up in a tribute outfit and pretend that I was back in the Games."

She says the words so blankly that Cashmere might have assumed that she was completely indifferent to the memory, but she's gotten to know Elara fairly well over the years, and she knows that this isn't the case. Elara likes to pretend that she's indifferent to everything, but it's all a mask. Every Victor wears one at some point or another. It's a flimsy way of shielding themselves from the horrors they're forced into, but it's the only way they can.

A subtle sort of fury creases through Cashmere's eyes. The disgust she feels is almost tangible in the air between them. As if buying someone's body for pleasure isn't enough, Seneca Crane also makes them relive their Games? She scowls.

"What did he do, pretend to kill you or something?" she muttered, hardly believing that she's even hearing this. Every time she thinks she's got a handle on the revulsion of this city, she always hears or experiences something that makes her realize how sick this place really is.

Elara scoffs, looking vaguely amused in a strange, altogether dry manner, and replies, "Hardly. He was playing the role of my humble rescuer."

If anything, Cashmere looks even more revolted. She's not sure which is worse, dealing with a killer or dealing with an arrogant idiot who thinks they could rescue them. All she knows is that if he tries to play this game with her tonight, she's going to punch him. Well, she probably won't punch him, but she's not going to disguise her aversion.

"God, these people are messed up," Cashmere mutters.

Elara hums in agreement, but says, "At least he won't hurt you. He's actually pretty gentle most of the time."

The grimace that Cashmere sends her is half pleased, half disgusted. A gentle client is a blessing and a curse all in one. They're better than the ones who hurt them on purpose, just to see them cringe away from them and to feel some kind of power that they're otherwise unable to feel at home. The gentle ones, though, are also flawed. They have a tendency of pretending like they care. Sometimes they'll even ask Elara is she's feeling good or if they're pleasuring her enough. She never knows what to say to them when they ask her that. She can't exactly tell them that she'd prefer that they get off of her completely and leave her alone.

They order their food when the waiter comes to their table, and fall into companionable silence, both swept off in their own thoughts. It's not uncommon for Elara and Cashmere to go out to lunch when they're together in the city. The citizens of the Capitol almost expect them to these days. They've become friends in their own way, over the years. She doubts they would have gotten to know each other so well if Gloss hadn't been the very thing that had brought them together in the first place, but it's nice to think that they would have. They get along well, and they understand each other in ways that some of the other Victors don't.

"You can ask, you know," Cashmere says suddenly, glancing at Elara out of the corner of her eye. Elara looks at her, tracing over the condensation of the water glass that sits in front of her, and raises an eyebrow. Cashmere copies her expression and quietly mutters, "I know you want to. You're both so stupid when it comes to your relationship."

If she had any question as to what Cashmere had been referring to before, Elara doesn't anymore. She rolls her eyes and snorts, "We're not in a relationship – "

"Please spare me," her friend complains, crossing her arms over her chest before she drawls, "He'd marry you in a heartbeat, you know that right? If he could, he'd never let you go."

The sudden rush of sincerity in Cashmere's voice makes Elara stare at her in surprise. To her horror, she actually feels a blush creep over her cheeks, and she really hopes her face doesn't look as warm as it feels. She's thought of marriage in the past, briefly of course. Sometimes she can't stop her silly daydreams from getting away from her. The thought of waking up next to him every single morning, having their nights to themselves every single evening, doing whatever they want to do all day, every day – it's a dream that sometimes she can't help but conjure, because she wants it so badly. But Elara isn't stupid enough to actually think that she could have that kind of life with Gloss. There are too many factors in their way, not least of all the fact that Snow would never allow it.

Some Victors are able to get away with it. Some of them even have families and children, but those Victors aren't the popular ones like them. They don't receive schedules every few months that dictate their lives. Once they win their Games, they only return to the Capitol for important functions or events that require all the Victors to be in attendance, but other than that, they're able to live fairly normal lives as long as they don't do anything to ensnare Snow's attention. Elara and Gloss, though? They're not as lucky. The Capitol likes them too much to allow them to fade away into the background.

Her silence makes Cashmere sigh. "He misses you," she tells her after a moment, studying Elara's face closely. "He doesn't tell me, but I know it's true."

Her friend just chuckles and rubs her face. She pushes her water glass away and mumbles, "We both know we'd never be able to…you know."

Neither of them use his name. If anyone overheard them talking about Gloss and her like this, it could be dangerous. And Elara can't bring herself to say 'marriage' either. Some words are just taboo.

God, she can't even count how many times Gloss has tried to say, in so many words, that he loves her. Any woman would want the confirmation. Maybe she's crazy to stop him every time he attempts to give it to her. It's just that if he says that word out loud, she's not sure she'd be able to part from him, and she knows that she has to. She always has to. Love is taboo, too.

Cashmere understands. She always seems to understand, and Elara is always grateful for it.

"Snow would never allow it," is all she says, but then quietly adds, "but that doesn't mean he doesn't wish he could. He's not as good at hiding his emotions as he thinks he is."

At this, Elara laughs a little and agrees, "True."

Perhaps it's just something men do, trying to hide what they feel. Maybe it's because he's a Victor. Maybe it's because he's from District 1. It doesn't really matter, honestly. Elara can see him more clearly than most.

"If I don't see you before you leave, you'll…you'll tell him, right? That I miss him too," Elara murmurs, piercing Cashmere with a long look.

Cashmere just smirks and says with no shortage of amusement, "I will, not that I need to. You're shit at hiding your emotions too, Elara."

Elara smiles and shrugs, knowing that she's probably right, at least where Gloss is concerned. They're both pretty awful at it, really, though they've been successful enough to hide their relationship for eight years now, so at least there's that.

Still. Love might be a taboo word, but this one isn't. She can tell him that she misses him. It's a safety net, but at least it's something.