Content Warnings:

- slight internalized homophobia in Ulysses's POV

- instances of body dysmorphia and self loathing in general in Desdemona's POV

Eleni Virgo, age 27

Master of Ceremonies

"I guess dreams do come true."

The voice came from behind Eleni. She jumped, whirling around and came face to face with Desdemona, who stood with her arms crossed in a white jumpsuit. Her periwinkle dyed skin stood out even more in that color. Eleni just smiled at the Games Announcer. At her new closest co-worker. "I guess they do."

"Just not mine," Desdemona said. She took a swig of something in a silver flask that Eleni assumed was more potent than the various wines and champagnes displayed on the tables.

Eleni swept her sunset hair over her shoulder. She absolutely adored the look of the magenta to orange gradient and was not planning on changing it anytime soon. "What do you mean not yours?"

"Don't play dumb, Eleni." Desdemona stumbled a step closer to Eleni, putting a finger in her face. "We both know how I feel about you. How I've always felt."

Eleni just rolled her eyes. "You're bringing this up again? It was years ago."

"Well, I guess I'm a petty bitch then."

You couldn't be more right. Even before Eleni became Master of Ceremonies, she knew Desdemona. The two of them had practically grown up together, and once they went to different universities in the Capitol, Eleni has bid Desdemona good riddance. Only to, years later, get her dream job and find Desdemona as her closest coworker.

What kind of shit luck was that?

Despite it all, Eleni laughed, a light sound of pure joy she knew would grind Desdemona's gears. "Oh Des, I think we all already knew that."

"Don't call me that," Desdemona said, her cadence trembling with rage.

"Why not?" Eleni kept her voice light and innocent. "We're old friends."

"We are not friends." Desdemona spit the word out. She ran a hand over her bald head as if trying to compose herself. Eleni resisted the urge to say something snarky about it and make Desdemona completely lose her cool. "We're coworkers," Desdemona eventually said. "And that's it."

"Of course," Eleni agreed. "So that means you'll be able to give a fully professional opinion on my dress?" Eleni twirled, letting the too-short skirt of her amethyst purple dress balloon out. The motion made one of the spaghetti straps of the dress fall down her shoulder. Eleni didn't bother fixing it.

Desdemona averted her eyes. Prude. "It's... freeing."

Eleni laughed again. "Got that right." She surveyed the room, tracking the movements of the various people mingling. Her eyes locked on President Astor, all bleached blonde hair and dark accessories. A thought popped into her head. "Des, I heard you didn't want me hired."

"I told you, don't call me Des." Eleni heard Desdemona unscrew the flask again and take a long drag from it. "And I didn't want you hired."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Desdemona echoed hysterically. "Because you're so..." Desdemona struggled for the word, rubbing at her wrist as she thought. "You," she settled on. "And I know you more than I'd care to. I don't need to be near you anymore."

"I might think the same way." Eleni did know Desdemona, knew her better than she would ever admit. She knew why Desdemona was so cynical, even felt guilty over it.

Eleni herself had been the cause of it, after all.

"Anyways," Eleni continued, shaking herself from the train of thought, "you said it yourself. We're coworkers. That's it."

Desdemona scoffed. "Yeah, and we'll see how long we stay coworkers." She walked off, the white pant legs of her jumpsuit fluttering behind her like a flag of surrender. Or maybe a flag of truce. Regardless Desdemona was done with Eleni and Eleni was done with Desdemona. Or as done with her as she could be. After all, they were the public faces of the Hunger Games now. And they could not bring their past onto the television screen for all of Panem to see.

Eleni wanted to keep the past behind them as much as they possibly could.

But she knew it would rear its ugly head sooner rather than later. The thought made her wish she had access to whatever was in Desdemona's flask. Instead she signaled an Avox carrying a tray with flutes of champagne over. She took two glasses, downing one of them almost instantly, all of a sudden now wondering when would be acceptable for her to leave.

Apparently Desdemona did not care when it would be acceptable. Eleni watched as she stormed in a straight line to the exit, a woman on a mission, and she bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from smiling. Warm fondness rose in Eleni's chest and all she could see now was Desdemona seven years ago, still as hardheaded as ever but endearing to Eleni instead of infuriating.

Eleni took another drink.

Eventually she decided to make her rounds one more time and then call it a night. Important people only, Eleni told herself, scanning the room. They would be the ones who chose if she would have a job or not. And she wanted this job. She held onto it by her fingertips now, but she needed to be standing on that cliff instead of dangling precariously from it. Eleni finished her second champagne, passed the empty glass to an Avox, and adjusted the strap of her dress. Plastered on a dazzling smile. Took on the persona of the bubbly Master of Ceremonies everybody wanted her to be even if the personality made her skin feel wrong.

The first stop was Antony, who was standing in a group with other Gamemakers, their cotton candy pink hair standing out among the bright colors the other Gamemakers wore. Eleni placed a hand on Antony's shoulder and the shoulder of the Gamemaker next to them in order to fit her way into the circle. Antony's face brightened and they wrapped their arm around Eleni's shoulders. "Miss Eleni!"

"Antony," she greeted. She nodded to the rest of the Gamemakers in the group, not remembering their names. "Wonderful to see you all. Is everybody enjoying the party?"

Antony laughed. "Eleni, I would think you were the hostess asking these kinds of questions. Enjoy yourself! Enjoy being the Master of Ceremonies."

Eleni's brow twitched at that. Enjoy being the Master of Ceremonies. Was Antony implying something? Were they going to get rid of her? Did Desdemona say something to them? But she kept the smile on her face, telling herself she was overthinking it, as usual. "I am enjoying it. Thank you for such an incredible opportunity."

"We've gotten past this point of formality," Antony said. "I would consider us friends." They leaned in and whispered into Eleni's ear: "After all, we're high-ups on the Games Committee unlike the rest of these chumps." They laughed and Eleni did, too. High-ups. Head Gamemaker and Master of Ceremonies. If Eleni had told her past self that she would be joking with a Head Gamemaker as the Master of Ceremonies, past-Eleni would lash out at the lie.

Present-Eleni was happy that past-Eleni was gone now.

She would not have been able to live this life.

But with Desdemona around, Eleni was not sure if her current self would survive this life either.

Eleni stood with Antony and the other Gamemakers for a few more moments, giggling at jokes that were not all that funny and making small talk about the Games and the tributes who had been reaped earlier today. But soon she saw President Astor's tall form from the corner of her eye and had to wrap it up with the Gamemakers. They bid her goodbye, Antony calling to her that they would send her the tribute files once they were finished so she could start planning her approach to the interviews.

President Astor stood beside one of the tables, overlooking the various finger foods arrayed on the table. Eleni sidled up beside her, idly grabbing a cracker and a slice of cheese from a charcuterie board without looking at it too closely. "This is a lovely party, Madam President."

The president hummed and plucked a carrot stick from a vegetable platter. "Thank you. I'm not too good at things like this, but this is a good first attempt I believe."

"It's fantastic." The small talk wore thin quickly. Eleni scrambled for something else to say to President Astor before she became too bored and walked away but she beat her to it.

"Eleni, I'm curious." The president turned to face her, her violet eyes flickering over Eleni's face. Eleni fought the urge to squirm under the gaze. "What is your relationship with Desdemona? She wouldn't say anything, but it's clear to see that there's something there."

What a loaded question. "We knew each other. We went to the same school when we were kids." She kept it vague on purpose.

President Astor's eyes narrowed. "I'm not stupid, Eleni. There's more to it than that."

And there was more to it than that. But Eleni did not want to think about it. She did not need that and she knew that Desdemona would not want that out either. Desdemona especially wouldn't want it out.

"With all due respect, Madam President, I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"I just don't want any... bad blood on screen," President Astor said, taking a pause to think of the phrase. "I would hate to have to find the faces of the Games Committee a second time."

"There won't be," Eleni assured. But she could not bring herself to add the I promise tickling the back of her throat. "We're coworkers." Echoing Desdemona's words.

The president hummed again, wiping her palm on her black dress. One of her cheeks hollowed, as if she were biting the inside of it. She's nervous, Eleni realized with a start. Maybe she was not the only one putting on a façade.

"That's good," President Astor murmured. Then she smiled, her teeth stark white against the deep purple lipstick she wore. "Enjoy yourself, Eleni. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon."

Eleni nodded to her and took off again, this time heading for Vice President Sethos Zahur. She exchanged pleasantries with him before finding other politicians to speak with. Stay on their good side.

She would enjoy herself. But she would be careful doing so.

Ulysses Ki, age 19

Capitol University Undergraduate Student

Ulysses must have watched the reapings in their entirety another four times after leaving Cicero's and Aula's room. Already this soon into getting back to the university, he had assignments due. The first was to write a mock article on the first impressions of the tributes.

Thus was the life of a Hunger Games Journalism and Media major. At least he knew Cicero would be in somewhat of the same boat as him. Aula, not so much.

And apparently his roommate would not be either.

"Working already?" Cygnus Serpens, a rather tall and well built boy with snake tattoos slithering around his forearms and up his neck, laid on his bed across from Ulysses watching him scribble in his notebook. As easy as working on the tablet was, Ulysses always preferred to do his planning on actual paper. Felt more real that way.

"I have to," Ulysses responded, looking over his notes for the District Nine tributes and adding final touches to his paper's outline. "Journalism and Media."

Cygnus made a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "And that is exactly why I didn't pick that major."

But Ulysses just frowned. "Because you didn't want to do the work?"

"Of course not! That sounds awful."

"What's your major then?" Ulysses double checked his outline for the paper, making sure everything was in line, making sure there were good transitions between ideas. Only half paying attention to Cygnus.

"History. Gamemakers." Cygnus swung himself around so he sat on the edge of his bed. Ulysses could see him out of the corner of his eye leaning closer to Ulysses's side of the room. Ulysses tried to suppress the squirming sensation roiling through his body, keeping his eyes pointedly trained on his paper and not Cygnus.

"My friend's a History major, too," Ulysses blurted out just to have something to say. "Tributes and Victors. I watched the reaping with her. Well, her and her sister. They live next door." Ulysses rambled, his face heating up.

Cygnus hummed. "Maybe I'll meet them sometime." He hopped off the bed and stretched, showing off his toned arms and the tattoos curled across them. Ulysses did not look. He didn't. "I'm gonna shower. I'll be back later." With that, he grabbed his shower caddy and towel and left the room. It felt larger somehow without his presence.

Ulysses opened up his tablet, creating a blank document. Then just stared at it. What was going on? Would Cygnus be like this all the time? Ulysses could not handle that. The subtle heat under his skin was testament to that fact.

And he could not handle the heat either. The only other time he had felt that was with Aula, and even that was uncomfortable. He remembered the first time it ignited a few years ago. He had been walking back home from the movie theater with Cicero and Aula, the early summer day nice enough for them to actually want to walk just to be outside. Aula had made a joke and when Ulysses turned to look at her, his breath had caught and his stomach had twisted at the sight of her face in the golden late afternoon sun. She glowed, both literally with light and with the joy that had been radiating from her since beginning her transition. And Ulysses had to look away. He simply could not hold her gaze, his heart pounding.

Of course, he never told Aula. He never mentioned anything to Cicero, either, too scared of her reaction to Ulysses having a crush on her sister. But he still had the same reactions to being around Aula, like he would spontaneously combust if he looked at her for too long. He thought he could hide it well. Or well enough that he could deny it if somebody by chance confronted him on it.

Ulysses blinked, the motion jerking him from the train of thought. The paper. He needed to write his paper, not reminisce and wonder. He got a few opening sentences down, all of which would probably have to be edited in one way or another but at least he had something on the page. District One. Olympia and Caspian. Typical District One tributes, nothing particularly of note. But there was something up with the tributes from Two. Their stiff body language, the way the two of them kept glancing at each other then quickly looking away, only standing as close as they needed to to shake hands at the end of the ceremony. Ulysses guessed they knew each other somehow, but he would need to wait until the Gamemakers released the official information on tributes to the students at the university.

Ulysses got to the tributes from Five before the door to the dorm opened. And in entered Cygnus, only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Ulysses's throat tightened at the sight. Apparently the snakes traveled further down Cygnus's chest towards his stomach. And even further than that, it looked like. Ulysses banished that train of thought before it went any further, then wondered why the thoughts would go further.

Cygnus smirked. "Like the view?"

"I..." Ulysses had not been as discreet as he hoped. He swallowed. "I like your tattoos."

"Only the tattoos?"

Ulysses looked back down to his tablet, eyes focused on the description of Simeon Sierpinski he had written. "They're nice tattoos," he mumbled. He did not want to see Cygnus's reaction to the words. He made sure his work was saved then threw himself off the bed. "I'm going to go shower, too."

"Have fun," Cygnus called behind him as Ulysses left the room to get to the bathroom next door. Once Ulysses locked the door behind him, he leaned his forehead against the door. Get yourself together, Ulysses.

He turned the shower on, making sure the water was cold, and wondered what the hell was going on with him.

Desdemona Palacio, age 27

Games Announcer

Desdemona did not want to turn the lights on in her apartment.

Desdemona did not want to see what Eleni saw her as now.

Honestly, she did not want to see what she saw of herself now.

Augustine did not seem to care though. "You're home early," he said, his eyes glued to the television. Reruns of the reapings flickered across the screen. Once Desdemona herself appeared on the television, seated smiling next to Eleni, she had to look away. Because that woman on screen was not her.

She was a fucking disaster compared to the pretty package she masqueraded as when the cameras were on her.

Or maybe it was just Eleni who brought that side out of her.

The thought hurt.

Desdemona kicked off her heels, glaring at her boyfriend on the couch. The gin from her flask made her punchier than usual. It made her want to pick a fight. "Is that a problem?"

"I just wasn't expecting you." Augustine still did not look up at her. Anger boiled up in Desdemona's gut. Look at me.

"Do you want that version of me?" Desdemona gestured to herself on the television, the Desdemona who was sure of herself and confident and held herself with purpose. The sight of herself on the screen made her hands shake. I hate it. "Do you wish she came home instead?"

"What is wrong with you?" Augustine snapped, standing from the couch. It never took much to set him off, and Desdemona had not been glad about that fact until now.

She scoffed. "Where should I even begin?"

"Des, I swear, if this is about Eleni again..."

But Desdemona did not hear him past the first word. Des. The nickname yanked her back in time to the naïve twenty year old Desdemona laughing with Eleni, the two of them tangled in bedsheets as the sun rose. Back in time to when Desdemona was more careless with her heart and who she gave herself to. Back in time to when she was the happiest she had ever been.

She stormed up to Augustine, getting in his personal space. "Do not call me Des." Her vision blurred, either from moving too quickly with the gin in her system or from tears, she could not tell. "Do not call me Des!" She screamed it the second time, hysteria rising.

Augustine took hold of her arms, trying to make her sit on the couch, but Desdemona fought against his grip, pushing away from him. "Des, you're drunk," Augustine said. "Sit down."

The words set her off even more. Desdemona broke free from his grip, tears flowing down her face now. "Don't call me Des!" It was as if the words ripped free from her mouth, scraping against her throat as they escaped. She stormed off into their shared bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking the door. She crumpled to the ground, sobs now wracking her entire being. I can't do this anymore. Augustine, Eleni. She could not be around them anymore.

Especially Eleni right now.

But she did not have a choice when it came to that. They were coworkers, after all.

Desdemona wiped the tears from her face, trying her best to compose herself. But the tears were not stopping, having come from a place deep inside her that Desdemona had hid from others, even from herself, for years. Everything was coming to a head. Everything was crashing down on her now. All she could do was stand in the blast radius and hope none of the debris killed her.

The sobs were not finished but Desdemona stood anyways. She did not expect Augustine to be at the door, asking if she was alright, but his absence still hurt. Eleni wouldn't do that to you. But Desdemona pushed the thought away. Because Eleni had done that to her.

She wandered into the bathroom attached to the bedroom, her eyes scanning the countertop skewed with various cosmetics and aerosol cans and bottles of creams. The tiled floor was cold under her bare feet. Everything in the bathroom felt cold, from the overwhelming whiteness of the room to the borderline sterile lighting. She looked at herself in the mirror that spanned the entire wall behind the countertop. Her makeup ran down her blue cheeks in thick black lines, her eyes bloodshot. And she hated what she saw. She hated the mess that looked back at her.

Desdemona had thought that dyeing her skin would make it fit better. That changing a fundamental part of herself would change her, too. But all she saw was somebody still running from a past that would forever fester somewhere inside her. All she saw was a sad woman who just wanted to love herself the way she had years ago.

Before she was splintered into pieces.

And just as quickly as despair had taken over, rage now coursed through Desdemona's veins. Her reflection trembled, set her jaw, eyes becoming like steel. In several jerky motions, Desdemona picked up one of the tins of cosmetics and threw it at the mirror with all her might, the crash that came from the actions satisfying some part of her anger.

Her reflection smiled through the spiderwebbed mirror glass that remained.

And Desdemona thought that maybe she looked okay like that. Like maybe this was how she was always meant to be.

Another chapter down, this time with three POVs, all from new characters as well. I was going to just include Eleni and Ulysses, but I liked where Ulysses's section ended and this chapter would have been much shorter than the other two without Desdemona in the mix, so I threw her in here too. Honestly, I'm really glad I included her here, I adored writing her.

What did you all think of these three? I feel like there were more dynamics explored in this chapter, so I'm curious on your thoughts on that. I don't think there will be any more POVs than the seven I've already included apart from one-offs here and there, so I would love to hear your opinions on the characters!

As always, feel free to leave a review! I love hearing from you all. :)

Until next time!

-D9T