When the elevator doors opened again her knuckles were bright red and blood dripped from her left hand, the evidence of her rage left behind in the specks of blood and smudged fist-print on the glass. At the very least it allowed her to remain composed once she did open the door to the apartment, keeping her hands tightly pressed inside her pants pockets.
The conversation pit in the living room had nearly every member of the entourage spare Colt. It was more than likely he'd continued speaking with Blais in private, doing more to put a wedge between them than the Hunger Games themselves. "There she is! The lady of the hour!" Harlow cooed, rising to his feet and nearly twirling in the sundress he wore. It was the most normal thing she'd seen him wear since their meeting and yet she couldn't get out of her head the field day her grandmothers would have if they'd seen it. The Capitol was a stark difference to the traditional ways back in 10.
"Did you follow what we practiced?" Catalena asked, motioning for her to join them. Maesus stayed near the hallway's entrance though, more than ready to shower and disappear beneath the safety of a bed frame. Managing a polite smile and pressing her hands deep into her side, she nodded towards her room. "Yep, I wanna clean up first 'fore talking 'bout it. Could use a minute to breathe." Her presentation had felt so uneventful, barely dinner gossip; no doubt compared to Blais' skill she'll be able to fade out of the conversation soon enough to slip away. Scores were to be announced by 8pm, excitedly awaited for over their final course and dessert. How badly she hoped her score wouldn't affect the alliance. Kane expected as such from her, didn't he?
Slipping on gloves following a shower, she'd put bandaids over her knuckles for the time being. The first aid kit in the bedroom was minuscule, lacking anything that could potentially be used to harm herself and thus anything that could actually help her. They wanted the tributes pristine for the games, too bad she already screwed that up.
Dinner reached it's end and the entire group sat in the living room, the chatter of the Capitol entourage members was sickeningly nonchalant. Learning their odds in the fight to the death sure seemed to make these folks giddy. It was infuriating and depressing all at once. At the very least Myles had settled himself on one side of her, handing her a small plate to encourage eating more. There were only a few days left of such astounding meals, she should enjoy it. "Catalena told me your strategy, I'm altering your interview dress to fit the idea. You're not going to like it." He chuckled and continued. "Remember there's been a tribute with a score of three who's won before, your appearance will bring in just as many sponsors as a high score could."
The Capitol anthem played over the television and he quieted, still watching her as if to ensure she absorbed his words. Sexy was an angle used many times in the past, a female tribute once seducing a few allies to take them out in a secluded area in the dark of night. It seemed like such an easy tactic considering most of these boys still only really think with one head. The persona she played had begun since the first day of training, there was no going back on using her looks to her advantage. She couldn't stop thinking about her parents watching in shame back home. Falling in on herself, Maesus set her small plate with a half-finished lemon square onto the table and watched the announcement closely.
By the time District 10's banner graced the screen, an eleven had been given to Kane with his district partner hot on his heels with a nine. Perhaps it was why the room around her erupted when Blais was scored a ten, Harlow leaning over the backrest of the couch to shake the boy's shoulder from behind.
The excitement made it difficult to hear the announcement of her own score, the number six in bold red feeling like a mockery as her gaze remained fixated on the screen. As planned as it was, Mae felt like a fool subjected to the continued comparison to her cousin. Useless and weak, illiterate and demure; she was relying on a Career who'd already made it clear how he viewed her. Lingering too close and 'accidently' brushing against her, hand gliding across her waist as he moved past. Now the rest of Panem would get to view her as the same, without a pretty face and curves she was worthless in that arena in their eyes.
Retiring to the bedroom without her absence even being noticed at first, it wasn't long before Catalena came knocking. At first Maesus had been tempted to ignore her, pretend as though she'd been sleeping when the woman came calling. But she knocked a second and third time, the brunette finally opening the door in exasperation. "Hasn't Harlow already spoken to you about minding your face? You looked miserable out there." Rolling her eyes, Maesus strolled back into the room and let her mentor trail in from behind. "I clapped for him, didn't I?" She asked sarcastically, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to maintain a calm composure.
"I have more than enoughsponsors lined up for you." Catalena placed her hands on her hips and the girl straightened up at realizing how. "Six were interested the day of the parade appearance-" She scoffed and interrupted the woman. "Must've been the outfit. From the right angle I reckon they'da had a great view!"
"Cut the shit, Maesus." Similar to being scolded by her mother, this was the most focused and frustrated she'd seen Catalena as her tone became harsh. "Be angry that it's just your body that's gotten attention, be angry your breasts are why sponsors may wanna line up. And be angry that your poorly-made alliance likely hinges on that boy just looking for a potentially final opportunity to roll in the hay." A stifled cry escaped Mae's lips and she fell back onto the mattress, looking up at the ceiling before covering her face with her hands. "It ain't gonna get to that point, I won't do that."
"And let him kill you for refusing? Get over yourself, he doesn't need you for food when his sponsors can provide it; you're gonna do what you have to to survive and I can't imagine he picked you for much else." Maesus bolted back up to a sitting position and shouted, "Go to hell!"
Catalena smiled and sat on one side of the bed despite the girl's outrage. "Good, now use that anger in the arena." As if flipping a switch she'd sounded nurturing again, tough love out the window as her point had been made. "When he makes a move let him get far enough that his guard is down, then strike. Or if there's still too many others, just bear it till there's few. But fix your face and act happy about it, otherwise he's gonna catch on and it will have been for nothing." Hands gripping the blankets, Maesus let out a groan and ignored the heat radiating off her flushed face. "My parents- christ, my father's gonna be watchin'!"
"Would you rather he watch you die?!"
Too stunned as Catalena matched her volume, the curly haired teen couldn't manage a response. Her mentor was right. Whether or not the chance to strike would present itself, she'd only gotten the alliance because Kane wanted 'entertainment'. There was no doubt in her mind what his intentions were. "Fine. You're right. I just - this is all I'mma be remembered for; La Putilla de Diez. I feel sick." She was downcast, looking at the bruises beginning to form on her knuckles.
Catalena lifted her chin up with her palm, gentle and slow, shaking her head. "No. A 'femme fatale', a victor. We'll talk more tomorrow, Maesita. Get some sleep and make sure Myles fixes up your hands tomorrow." As jarring as it was to be pulled into an embrace so quickly, Maesus quickly melted and buried her face against the woman's shoulder. It wasn't as though she was just selling her body like some of the women in the outer parts of the districts, their reputations always mentioned in hushed tones. No, she was selling all of herself, inside and out, all on live television. It wasn't just about money, it was survival. Tears fell sooner than she could stop them.
In the morning Maesus awoke from beneath the bed, curled up atop a pillow with a blanket and for just a few sweet moments, feeling safe. Carpet patterns imprinted on her skin and cheek, she was relieved to see the sun stilly just creating over the city skyline. Considering she'd yet to have been interrupted, the girl assumed it early enough for a shower.
Getting the temperature just right was still a struggle, though it beat the cold baths she only ever got back home. Today she decided to try a different soap from the hundreds, if not thousands, listed on the panel. However, the 'Peach Scrub' came out with little particles of what felt like plastic, making her skin feel rubbed raw as she spread it down her arms; the moment it made contact with her scabbed-over knuckles a burning sensation took over her hands.
One mistake out the way, it was an easy decision to use the same shampoo and conditioner as the last few days. A towel wrapped around her chest, Maesus had only just stuck her head into the instant hair dryer type machine when a knock came from the bathroom door. And it opened, just a pinch.
"Are you decent?" Sighing in relief at the old woman's voice, she hit the button on the wall and spoke over the soft sound of the dryer. "Enough so, why?" By this point most of the entourage had seen her naked, why bother being shy now? Catalena entered the room and avoided looking in her exact direction, providing some sense of privacy. In her hands were two glasses with what Mae assumed was a mimosa after having enjoyed the drink nearly every breakfast since her arrival. It fizzed loudly as her hair fell down to her shoulders, diffused and parted perfectly. She wondered if the homes in Victory Village utilized the same technologies found in the Tribute Center.
In front of the mirror now, she grabbed a small green bottle of rosemary-mint oil and began running it through her curls. Some kind of scent-less oil had already been applied in the shower, but the extra kept the scent so prominent all day and gave her hair an extra bit of shine. The goal was attention, wasn't it?
"We should discuss more of your angle, run over some questions we've heard before. I'm worried Harlow alone won't be able to do enough for your stage presence, though. Especially if you get frustrated or insulted." The woman's knowing eyes lingered on her for a moment and a deep, shameful crimson spread across Maesus' face. "Don't think Colt and I don't speak just cause he won't talk in front of the rest of ya'll. You bruised the boy's lower black and we're lucky he didn't complain to any of the peacekeepers. It's illegal to harm any tribute, cousin or not, before the games. I don't need you taking a swing at Ceasar tomorrow if you don't like his questions."
Ceasar Flickerman, their master of ceromonies for more than twenty years now. His interview could make or break a tribute, though he always seemed to help paint them all in a positive light. Even the most dull response could be mended into something that makes the audience roar. Maesus needed to charm him, wanted to charm him; at the very least he was one man who had to keep his hands to himself. Taking one of the glasses from Catalena's hands, she took a sip. "It ain't likely I'd do that, this interview's 'sposed to help me. 'Sides, I doubt Ceasar's gonna insult me up there."
"No, he's not gonna insult you. But we're workin' the sexy angle, Mae. His questions are gonna further reflect that and you've gotta be ready to bat your eyelashes, giggle, and respond. He may wanna know if you've got a boyfriend back home, say no; you are available and desirable. Be a little touchy, rest your hand on his shoulder and lean forward to listen to the questions. Flickerman's opinion can go a long way when he's commenting during the games."
Uncomfortably rubbing at her hands and turning up her nose, the teen let out a sigh of defeat. "I don't wanna flirt with Ceasar-"
"You're not. You're flirtin' with the Capitol, with every single citizen in that audience. If they like you, you're gonna live." Catalena, her drink now empty, began walking for the bedroom door.
"And if they don't like me?" Maesus called out, watching the hesitation of her mentor as she opened the door. "Then we'll worry about that after the interview. Go on now, get dressed before we start"
Four hours passed by in a blur, Catalena taking on the position of interviewer and hitting her with a number of questions. At first Maesus stumbled over responding, trying to be honest but soon finding it was better to make up her responses. Though she had to be reminded that lying meant maintaining the lie, not letting it change. Bending the truth became her happy middle.
At one point she'd been sat in front of the mirror as her mentor continued to ask more provocative questions, asking if she was crushing on any of the other tributes or if she'd gotten to experience everything she wanted before being reaped. They weren't too off from what she'd heard past tributes be asked, though certainly far from what she was comfortable sharing.
Her reflection maintained a polite smile, practically glued on. Maesus at times had to bite her tongue and smooth out the frown lines on her forehead, contorting her face a number of times to ensure she looked happy and interested. Her eyes had to 'sparkle'. Even when frustration and disgust tingled up her spine.
"Finally, don't shed your smile or flirtatious attitude the moment your interview ends. You're still gonna be sat on stage until every tributes' been interviewed, so you need to maintain this until you're back in the apartment. Then you can punch out all the feathers in your pillow or whatever it is that keeps you from doing something stupid." Catalena opened her room door and gestured for her to follow.
Dressed in simple brown and green clothing, Maesus placed a hand on her stomach and ignored the rumbles. She'd completely forgotten to eat breakfast, her focus stolen from the moment she got out of the shower. The scent of food took over her senses though, steam still rising off the smoked brisket on the table and covered sides surrounding it. Blais either took his serving to another room or was still finishing up his session with Harlow; his absence had become preferred. Sitting down and quickly serving herself a plate, she relished in the silence of the dining room and simply eating without interruption or distraction.
Wondering if each district floor reflected her own, it was hard not to grow more solemn and tense the more she considered all the angles they were being forced to play. Were other girls being asked to behave promiscuously to gain sponsors? It was unlikely she'd be the only one though there was no telling how well the others would play the role. The thought of such competition was dreadful.
"Ach! What did you do to yourself?" Myles strode in quickly, picking up her hands first thing and 'tsking' away at the sight of them. Dropping her fork onto the table and ignoring the sound of it clattering to the ground soon after, she winced as Myles' thumb moved over the scab. "Was this from training?" His voice softened, sitting in the chair next to her with her hands still in his own.
"Kinda, I mighta overdone it." Lying had certainly become second nature in the last few hours. However, just from how he looked at her it was obvious he didn't buy the excuse. He didn't pry, either, at least. Sitting her down in the conversation pit and away from the food, the pink afro-ed stylist grabbed the first aid kit tucked away in a locked kitchen cabinet. Its contents were items far from anything she'd seen even at the doctors back home, her distraction utilitized as he poured a liquid over her knuckles that stung on contact. "Ey! Some warnin' next time!"
Practically foaming over, the liquid dripped a bit before Myles wiped at it with a white cloth. The scabbing and cuts had practically filled themselves in, bruises still prevalent but faded as compared to before. He wrapped both her knuckles in gauze and put the kit away again.
"You might be in trouble if just that's hurtin' you." Maesus ignored the comment made by Colt as he came downstairs from the entourage bedrooms, not even looking in her direction as he sat at the table. Myles must have shot him a look as Colt went quiet and focused on his food. Laughter was the first thing they all heard as Harlow finally opened the door to the sitting room just off to the side of the livingroom, Blais following behind him wearing a sheepish grin and his hands in his pockets. "You are just going to wiggle your way into their hearts!" He exclaimed, clapping the boy on his shoulder.
It was easy to keep her attention on the television up on the wall, the screen larger than the ranch's barn doors. Staring too long made her eyes hurt. The volume had been switched off but replays of past games remained on the screen, reminiscing over previous victors and memorable scenes. Suddenly she wished she hadn't eaten so much.
"Maesy-baby~" Harlow cooed from where he now sat at the table, chin on his hand as he smiled and even waved to her. "We are going to have so much fun practicing for tomorrow, especially after the little looksy I got at your dress!"
She arched a brow and shifted her gaze to Myles, his gentle smile reassuring as he settled back down next to her on the couch. "He got to see it first?" He chuckled. "Just the drawn up concepts. Until tomorrow night, only I get to see the real thing." He seemed to think a moment before asking. "You're not allergic to anything, right?"
"Don't think so.." With a shrug of her shoulders, Maesus grabbed the remote from the coffee table and pressed buttons until the channel changed. By the time she found a channel not covering previous Hunger Games victors or footage from the parade, Harlow was back on his feet and each step towards her filled the girl with dread.
"Ah, ah, ah. There's no time for T.V, missy!"
The sitting room featured floor to ceiling windows that truly opened up the otherwise small space. Two plush chairs on one end of a coffee table and a couch on the other, her eyes instantly drifted to the bar cart in the corner. Maesus made a note to remember it for a later time.
"Sit, sit!" Once down in her own chair, Harlow paced around in front of her with what looked like a skip in his step. How long had he been thinking about this practice? "You did alright with the heels during the parade so we don't have to worry too much about that. And taking care of your hair for just the short time you've been here has certainly transformed it from that nest it was before." He twirled one of her curls between his fingers with an appreciative glance, his reach at first making the girl flinch. "My main concern is that accent of yours. As endearing as it is, we don't need the Capitol thinking you're uneducated."
Maesus stared at him dead-panned, anger welling up within her as she tried to maintain her calm demeanor. Truly putting Catalena's teaching into practice. "I am uneducated."
For one, brief shining moment it was as though there was understanding in the man's eyes. As though he actually saw her as more than a tribute, not just a doll to dress up and direct around but a living, breathing child. One who worked to survive, who missed out on literacy and mathematical skills to help ensure her family's success. Of course, it also could have just been the light reflecting off that same deep red gaze she first met in the Justice Hall.
"They don't need to know you're that uneducated, but I can definitely make it work." With a flourish he knelt down beside her chair and gestured his hand out in front of her, his other arm wrapped around her shoulder. "A beautiful and sheltered rancher's daughter, polite and well-mannered despite not yet knowing how to read-" She interrupted with a huff. "I can read, ya know! Maybe not well..."
Harlow shushed her, continuing his spiel. "You're terrified for the games! Always a gentle soul caring for animals, you'd never hurt a fly but you know you're ready to do what you need to in order to win!" He held his fist up in triumph, pausing for a breath. "Even with your disadvantage, you just know in your heart that you'll make it back home. And if you're lucky, your debut to Panem could also mean some suitors when you return home a victor, eh?" Tilting her head to the side in order to look at him, Maesus arched a brow and felt her jaw tighten.
"I've killed a lot more than flies."
Standing up from beside her, he threw his arms up in defeat. "You are just out to make my job harder! Your cousin wasn't even close to being this difficult!" The comment dug a little deep, Maesus' otherwise calm demeanor cracking. All week it was as though she was being compared to Blais and now it was just confirmed, he was the better tribute between them. "I'm sorry..." She said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking back towards the escort. "Learnin' a new identity is hard, this just ain't me. But, you're right. I was able to get it with Catalena, just... can we try again?"
It actually felt like the sympathy on his face was genuine, Harlow practically cooing as he pat her shoulder. "Of course it isn't you, it's a better you. Let's definitely go over your new background again and then we'll focus on your speaking skills."
By the time their session had ended, the man's voice had become like nails on a chalkboard. Every mannerism was planned, from how she was to sit on stage to how she addressed the audience. Anytime she spoke improperly Harlow interrupted and she had to try again. At one point he threatened to start using a spray bottle on her.
Maesus was becoming tongue tied, one leg crossed over the other and hands resting in her lap since they'd fidget otherwise. "Well of course I think workin' cattle might give me an edge, but frankly I'm sure milkin' is a skill my fellow girls here are also familiar with." Despite the twitch of her nose wishing to upturn, she grinned and even winked at her mentor. It was truly her own comment and first sense of confidence in the role but Harlow only seemed to grimace.
"It just doesn't work if you're in on it, baby. Flirty, sexy, promiscous, but innocent. Untouched. Phrasing that you do milking is perfect though, we'll keep that. They're gonna laugh, maybe whistle: just act confused and laugh. Give em' a giggle. Again."
When Catalena had come to interrupt the two had already gone an hour over the session time, making the girl all the more embarrassed when she finally passed through the living room and back to the solitude of her bedroom.
Closing the door and ignoring the annoyance of not having a lock, Maesus sucked in a breath and laid herself on the ground beside the bed. The bedframe was much closer to the ground than hers back home but it was still spacious enough to crawl beneath so long as she sucked in tight before squeezing beneath.
She tugged hard on the blanket to pull down over one side, closing herself off from the rest of the room and letting out a shaky breath. Noise didn't travel much in the Tribute Center, though if she closed her eyes and thought hard enough she could make out the sound of her mother's radio in the kitchen. It usually had to be hit several times to work correctly but it played loudly, bright and early every morning. She could feel the thumping of the twins running about the upstairs floor, their laughter an echo reverberating off the walls. Daria would be making the floorboards creak as she tried on several outfits in the closet, ultimately deciding on the same outfit she'd been wearing every day for almost three years now. Through the crack in the window she'd make out the sound of her father and uncles on the porch, enjoying a cup of coffee as they discussed the state of the district.
And for those few fleeting moments before being consumed by exhaustion, she was back home.
Sun rays filtered through the blankets she used to seal off her hiding place, Maesus only awakening when a loud knock came from the door. Followed by Harlow's ever cheerful voice. "Goodmorning! It's interview day!" Another two distant knocks confirmed he was simply out in the hall knocking on both she and Blais' doors. This continued for nearly a minute before it was silent again. How tempted she was to go right back to sleep.
Instead the brunette rolled out from beneath the bed and left the blankets sprawled around, knowing it'd be perfectly reset by the afternoon. Before she was even fully on her feet the door was thrown open, Anya giggling as she carried what looked like a large luggage case. Unlike the first day she met her, Kamilla is grinning from ear to ear with a basket of flowers in her arms.
The entire day belonged to Myles and these ladies, her evening in the hands of Flickerman and the Capitol audience. It was difficult to be as excited to play dress up as the other two were but she surrendered to them without a single complaint.
Dressed in a thin white robe as they worked, Maesus was quiet as the two glued and painted on acrylic black and red nails with small red roses. From the stomach up her skin had been airbrushed with a foundation color resembling her skin tone, small flecks of gold mixed in to make it shine beneath the lights. Makeup applied to her face featured dark red lipstick and black eyeliner seemingly brushed out at the ends, blush bringing out the height of her cheeks. It was all becoming too real.
When Myles finally did join the group he was carefully carrying her dress and shoes, the reveal making her stomach drop. The waist was incredibly thin, practically impossibly so; she didn't get the chance to question it. Instead her worries about being able to breath were shushed, an underbust corset being wrapped around her waist once she had undergarments on. Gripping the edge of the vanity as Anya and Kamilla pulled the strings on either end, her breathing became shallow and controlled. Four hours. In four hours she'd be out of the costume and in bed, time moved so slow.
Removing the dress from its hanger, Myles instructed her to raise her arms above her head and seamlessly slipped it on. Under normal circumstances she would have loved the garment, would have twirled in glee. It was like his own take on a black cotton Tehuana dress, the embroidery less abundant compared to what was made back in 10 and skirt far shorter. Short puffed sleeves hung beneath either shoulder, the material stretching over her chest with little give considering how much was pushed up by the corset. One wrong move and she'd be popping out of it.
"Finishing touches..." Her stylist hummed, revealing a secondary outer corset made of raw horse hide. It's soft white tone contrasted against the rest of the dress whilst matching the short, peasant heels she stepped into. It was impossible not to sit as straight up as a pencil as the three began working on her hair in a joint effort to tame her curls together.
Extensions first added in then curled to match the rest of her hair, braiding more than half together in two pleats in order to join together into the shape of a crown. A select few strands were left to frame her face and tickled her cheek, others cascading down the back. The basket of flowers brought in earlier overpowered her senses once brought closer, Maesus realizing that they were all completely real. Petals soft to the touch, she held onto a red rose as the three worked. A single white lotus was placed just to the right of center in the crown with red roses, white baby's breath, and pink gladiolus flowers placed around it. It was an uncomfortable amount of weight on her head and she focused on squaring her shoulders and keeping her chin held high.
However, it was the cold feeling of beads on her neck that brought the teen back to life. Keeping track of her rosary had become a struggle with the endless array of clothing changes; knowing Myles had intended for her to wear for the interview made her hold it tighter and mouth a 'thank you' toward the man.
Upon finally leaving the safety of the room and being escorted downstairs to the stage, Maesus shuffled forward with a fear of letting out too deep a breath. She felt like prey; easy to spot and unmoving. Blais was dressed in nearly all black, loose leather pants paired with a matching vest that had horns rising from either shoulder. They could hear the festivities of the Capitol from the hallway, music and fanfare a soundtrack to the tension.
With the rest of the District 10 entourage trailing in behind or alongside them, the elevator felt cramped on the way down. The city circle was transformed into a stage with an elevated seating arrangement, enough space for thousands if not millions of eyes to bore into each and every one of them. As soon as the elevator opened they were lined up alongside their fellow tributes.
Seeing all the stylists' creations up close was appalling and intriguing, the outfit from 5 utilizing a green glow that made the tributes look irradiated. Both the teens from 9 wore outfits made entirely out of corn husks. The male tribute from 4 wasn't wearing a shirt for the sixteenth year in a row.
Every familiar face in their entourage had disappeared when Maesus came back to her senses, likely gone to take their seat as a man wearing a headsat began motioning for the line of tributes to make their way on stage. Twenty-four chairs laid out in an arch, in a few short weeks only one chair would be filled for a post-games interview. Maesus swallowed down her anxieties and plastered the sweet, polite smile she'd practiced religiously since yesterday. Despite how desperately she wanted to fiddle with and count the rose-scented beads around her neck, the end dipping between her breasts like an arrow for her sponsors, she kept her hands at her sides.
Seated between Blais and the boy from 9, she cemented her hands in her lap and crossed one leg over the other. Audience members were whistling and hollering, the subject of their affections pointed at any and all of them. Trumpets practically shook the stage as the fanfare began playing from the speakers, Ceasar coming onto stage wearing the same blue twinkling suit as he had the last ten years. This year his hair, lips, and eyelashes bore a striking vibrant yellow. The way he roused the audience up, it'd become deafening. However, it did finally quiet and he introduced Stella Zahir, the slim eighteen year old representing District 1. Maesus held her breath.
Mirra Rayde and Kane Garan, praised as a deadly duo representing 2's proud history and practically a crowd favorite upon standing. Her soon-to-be allies garnered longstanding applause. Something was off about the younger girl though, it made Mae worried for their incoming alliance.
The youngest tribute to grace the stage so far was twelve year old Kelvin of 5, skin glowing such a light green hue over an otherwise plain green and black suit. Only twelve, he was still so babyfaced. 6, 7, 8. Graham Bartlett, the long blond haired boy from 9 whose table she sat at during lunch that first day of training. At the time his hair had pieces of food thrown in it by the careers, tonight it was slicked back with gel that shined beneath the bright lights. He bowed, his own district partner clapped for him, and then-
"Up next, a tribute who I know has certainly caught my eye! Let's see if she's as beautiful on the inside as we know she is on the outside, ladies and gentlemen, from District 10: Maesus Ovejas!" It was just like at the reaping, her feet guiding her long before she fully grasped she was even moving.
Stable in the heels, her dress sashayed to either side with chin held high as if the flowers would all come falling down should she falter. Despite how terrified Mae felt, how her heart seemed to beat out of her chest and lungs couldn't take in enough air, she smiled. Hell, she raised an arm up to wave at the audience while Ceasar took her other hand to guide her downstage and allowed her a moment to twirl.
"First, a round of applause for your stylist. Where is he tonight, darling?" A light found Myles in the crowd, his craftsmanship recognized before attention settled back onto her. "Clearly Forsythe knows what he's doing! Using 'natural' beauty on a natural beauty, if you will!" He laughed, gesturing towards the flower crown and seemingly revitalized as she laughed with him at the less than stellar pun. One leg crossed over the other, hands in her lap as though to press her chest forward. By all accounts Maesus looked demure on stage. "Now tell me, Maesus. Is that corset genuine horse fur? I'd feel worried for our chariot steeds if it is!"
Eyeing the horse hide corset, a curious silence took over the audience as they awaited her response. "Not too sure, really." Her hand gently ran across the soft raw hide, purposely but delicately tracing the material beneath her bust. "It's got the same feel as a real horse's coat so it ain't fake. But I reckon it was sourced back home." She became tongue-tied trying to say 'sourced', tripping over the word and struggling to maintain the posher way of speaker Harlow tried to teach her. Ceasar leaned forward towards the audience with his face beaming and chimed. "That accent! I am sure we could all listen to you speak this whole evening, you are just a doll." Maesus' face was flushed as she playfully tapped Ceasar on the shoulder and leaned closer.
"Well, ain't you a peach!" Maesus cooed, the audience erupted. He took her hand sharply although his grip was practically nonexistent, holding her close to him up with a laugh. "Oh, I love it! Not quite a drawl or a twang alone. I could make a list of words to have you try and say!" More applause, she almost hoped she'd get through her time without having to answer many questions. Keep them smiling and laughing. Fortunately, Flickerman did most of the talking anyways.
"Alright, alright; shall we discuss your training score?" Changing the subject came easy to the man, his face almost looking sympathetic at reminding the audience of the six she received from the judges. "Do you think you're at a disadvantage?" Chest visibly rising and falling as she tried to breathe, Maesus nodded softly and dampened the smile she wore. "I handled gentle giants back home, keepin' the cows in good shape. I might not be strong and I'm sure milkin' isn't quite a useful skill here..." With an innocent laugh that was echoed by the audience, she continued. "...but I know how to handle an animal." So many cameras pointed in their direction it was difficult to pick which one to direct her attention towards, so she chose at random and gave a wink.
"That you do, ." He chuckled, as if filling in the space as the audience was still in an uproar at such a small action. "Now one last question, one I'm sure you are all dying to know." Caesar pointed out towards the audience, to no one in particular and yet earning excited 'oohs' from those in the crowd. "Is there a special beau waiting at home for when you return?" His attempt at a drawl was far from convincing, almost insulting, but she played into his question and giggled.
"No, no. Though if I win..." Now it was her turn to mock the Capitol accent, her words spoken like a song in mimicry of Harlow's frequent speeches. Another eruption of cheers and wolf whistles that made her skin crawl, worsened as Caesar once more took her hand and helped her up out of the seat.
"I am certain the gentleman will be lining up when you secure that victory. Once again, folks; the Milk Maiden of District 10, looking to turn her flower crown to gold: Maesus Ovejas!" It ended sooner than she thought possible. His guiding hand had her do a final curtsey before she made it back to her seat in the up-stage semi-circle, a few gazes from her fellow tributes lingering on her form to the point she was worried they could hear just how loud her heart was beating. Her stomach clenched against the boned corset and she was unable to focus on what her cousin said that entertained the audience so. They were laughing, 'aww'-ing, and soon applauding as he sat back down next to her.
Maesus had completely missed her cousin's interview. 'The Milk Maiden'. So casually thrown out, the title Flickerman gave her would no doubt stick and Harlow would be complaining he hadn't thought of it sooner. 'Better than La Putilla De Diez.' A bemused grin tugged at the edge of her lips, diminishing and soon replaced by her well-practiced, ever pleasant smile; all the saliva draining from her mouth as the final interviews concluded.