Seraphine Luxor

District Five

She/Her

To say Seraphine Luxor loved the Academy, the PSAV, was an absolute lie. She adored it. Loved walking into the hall every morning, marble and with a glass roof that let Five's sunlight beat down onto her, and going inside.

A night in the dorms had been awful to her hair, and the fact she'd had to wake up at six to apply makeup, do up her hair, and handle everything she needed to do before breakfast had been simply horrible. Still. She looked perfect, at the end. As she always did.

And so she can walk into the hall without an eye cast anywhere else, feel boys and girls alike looking over at her because as is expected she's, well, perfect. She's Seraphine Luxor, damn it. She's gorgeous , and everyone should be looking.

She walks through the hall, looks around at the silver trophies against the wall, names inscribed upon the walls by chisel into marble. Looks at it for a second, and vows that her name will not be the one carved into the marble, but carved into the granite that sits above a door.

She passes under the granite arch, looks up at it for a second and then heads through into the training hall, where already most of her class has gathered. It's minutes, still, before the discussion. However, for once now, they have arrived. Rich and poor, younger by days and older by months, but all arrayed beneath the glass roof, upon the mats. All in the same tunic. All good looking, at the least, that was part of their choosing. But none quite as good looking as her.

The weapons are going like hot cakes, selling because everyone has their choice and there isn't enough for everyone at this point, but still she can go over. She places a hand on Max's chest, and then when he resists at first, giggles. "Come on, Max. You know I deserve it, don't you. Just hand it over, m'kay, and then I can get going, and you can sit down and have a nice time of it! Tell you what, when I go into the Games I'll even think of you – won't that be nice!"

It takes him a second, the blush dancing onto his cheeks in red fire, but soon enough he releases the rapier to Seraphine, and Sera can wield the blade. It's practice first, but that doesn't mean there is any reason for the practice to be less than perfect. She could play with longsword, katana, zweihander. But that wouldn't be perfect.

And when she takes possession of her blade she can brandish it, take aim against the dummy. The silver blade dances against the air for a second, and then she lunges forwards and drives it through the face of the dummy, watches it rock backwards with a scrape of wood against wood. It's a good strike, she hears a few scattered claps, then more than a few as they applaud the incident.

It's an hour and a half of practice, sword striking like a snake out and out again, before she can withdraw and eye the stage where they do the final matches. A few come before, chosen by the instructors, but they are all… less. None have the grace, the coordination, the same effortless skill that she does. Sera knows that for a fact.

It's fifteen minutes before she's on stage. Five against Five, and already she can see the silver blade. Sees Peri, opposite her, longsword in hand. There's no elegance to Peri's strategy, just the kind of brute force that simply won't do. Not if Five wants to win the proper way, the right way, the way that Five should win.

Seraphine has her own sword in hand. Her rapier, and it's light, feeling almost like a natural extension of her arm. The flag flits down, and in an instant she's lunging forwards, silver sword clashing against Peri's blade. They clash again, and then she's drawing back. Peri's on the offense, sword spinning and slashing, and yet can never seem to land a hit.

She almost does. After all, Peri can't possibly reverse her swing fast enough, and yet she does and it's only reflexes that keep Seraphine from being dropped to the ground with the force of the blow. Not the sharpness, there's no edge to the practice blades, but speed and force can still hurt in their own ways.

Swords clash. Silver against silver, rapier against longsword, and already Perivale is swinging her sword up, and already Seraphine can slide her blade in. It's blunt, of course, but she can still do some impact, and the flat of her blade slaps against Peri's side with a slap. The kind of strike that would be death in the games, and her voice is filled with a brand of chiding insistence. A warning, if such could be used as a description. A complete, and utter, condemnation of the fact that she was able to land such a hit against Peri, especially so early into the fight.

"No." The single word tolls with more power than a thousand speeches could. She almost laughs, and Peri's eyes fill with a certain hurt, but Seraphine doesn't deign it with a response.

She lets her blade flit back into the scabbard, and then she can actually curtsey, to the assembled room because they deserve some kind of acknowledgement for all the hard work they've watched her put in. "Thank you, thank you!"

They don't clap until Alworth begins, but when they do, the whole room claps. Expressing their admiration, respect, a dozen other things because Seraphine did win. And because, well, she deserves the applause. She's the best Five has, after all. She's certain of it. The best her District can offer, and that's all thanks to… well, let's be honest. To being born Seraphine Luxor.

When the rest of the students leave, only then does she leave, with a smile to Alworth. After all, without him she would have been cut from the Academy, sentenced to go back to being the perfect daughter for her parents. No adrenaline, no thrill, no rush, just one of a hundred posh girls from northern Vipeche, descended from One and living off familial ownership of some fun goods. The Luxor vineyard is one such.

And in the Academy, when she's busy training and showing off, then Seraphine can actually benefit from the good things that she's inherited. Like glossy blonde hair, like blue eyes, like the fact that she's one of the best off children in the entire District.

And those are all good things!

In the corridors, it's a different story – lunch is almost upon them, and so Seraphine saunters over to a table. Takes a seat, looks at the meal laid out. One of her fellow students is sat opposite, and without even thinking about it he's offered a teasing smile. A wink that makes him blush, and her hand's slowly creeping up his arm until she can look down at his plum on the plate, and he's more than happy to hand it over to her without a second thought.

After all, she deserves it.

Dinner's fantastic. The wine's laid out, and with it comes the first course, as every night. Nothing too fancy to start, the small fish fried in oil are enough, and they taste simply divine, spices and all popping in Seraphine's mouth when she takes her first bite. Then another, the another, and before long she's finished her plate, and is waiting for the next course. Mom and Dad are still eating, and they look to be enjoying it, but she's so bored.

She casts a smile up at the maid waiting silently by the table, who pointedly ignores her – she definitely needs to get to know this one better. Then, she just waits. Takes the occasional sip of wine, and her parents aren't even talking to her. Sure, they're busy – eating, and looking at their food, and doing all that.

Talk livens up slightly when they speak, mom smiling at her. Sapphire Luxor may be 66, may be older and may not be in her prime, but the charisma still oozes off her. There's makeup as well, and so Seraphine isn't entirely lying when she tells mom that she looks as beautiful as ever tonight.

"You're still thinking of Volunteering?" The question is pressed with a certain interest, but there's already that knowledge behind mom's eyes. That she's going to volunteer, and that mother is going to do whatever, whatever it takes to be able to support her daughter. So Seraphine nods, and puts a little sparkle behind her eyes when she speaks.

"Of course, mom! I was thinking…" She trails off, something mom seizes on all too curiously, and already Seraphine can tell that she's got mom caught in her trap.

"Yes?"

"That I think I might need a new dress – you know how the Capitol is about Reaping outfits, and while I'm sure that Mack won't have any problem with his suit, I'd prefer something a little nicer. Just so I can show off our status, yes?"

Mom nods, and she keeps going, keeps pressing. Dad purses his lips, but doesn't say no, thank every gem in One. "I was thinking.. white and a goldy yellow, like our District colours. Silk and lace, and some frills, because you know I need to look fabulous if the Capitol's to like me. And then there could be a fur overcoat. Nothing too heavy, because it'll be the summer and Vipeche can get burning hot in the summer. But something that makes me stand out, and shows everyone that I'm really just as fabulous as the Ones."

She grins, and dad gives a nod that's… at least somewhat approving, thankfully. Like he isn't fully disappointed, like he fully agrees with her idea. A sentiment echoed when he actually vocalizes it.

"Yes. I think that you could look very… popular. Be careful not to overdo it, though, Seraphine. Don't need you collapsing on the stage, that simply wouldn't do." He laughs, they all laugh. It's funny, really, that suggestion. That she could be anything less than *absolutely perfect* on the stage, that she wouldn't make the Luxor family look as perfect as ever because they were always perfect. Always. It was just a fact, really.

The next course is chicken – cooked and roasted to perfection, with potatoes, root vegetables, all in gravy. The kind of food that she deserves, she needs. It tastes good, as well, and talk descends from the Reaping – from her pride, to more mundane topics. To the idea of how good the food is, and how it must be hard not to be in the same economic class as them.

It's all true, but at the same time… this is almost her goodbye dinner. In a week, less, she'll be putting her hand up and going forwards into the Games. How dare they not focus on her and instead discuss something as mundane as the food, the class.

So, eventually, she taps a fork to her glass, and gives the kind of prim smile that sets mother to smiling and father to looking at her with what only could be a quiet discomfort. She isn't sure why – she's going to do fabulous.

No, more than fabulous – perfect. Everyone, everyone from one ocean to the other, is going to be able to remember her name. Everyone is going to know just how much Seraphine Luxor means to Five, to Panem.

But first, she needs to get her angle right. So she leans in. "Mother, father. I've been thinking – how much of the family will be coming to visitations? After the Reaping."

It takes a second for a response, but eventually she gets one – not the one she'd been hoping for, but one nonetheless. "Not many of us…" Mother hesitates for a second, then carries on, with a nod from father. "Your cousins, I'd expect. They're all just so excited their big cousin is taking part in the Games. Representing our District. Grandmother, of course. Elissa, you know she's an old family friend and she's surprised at how much you've grown…" The list goes on, person after person who Seraphine knows but honestly can't draw herself into caring much for.

And when it's done, then she can make her suggestion. "Well, what if we… maybe didn't do all that. I was thinking maybe if we drew some other people in, it might be nicer. Like my friends from the Academy. Show that I'm not a nepotist, that I love my friends over…" Father purses his lips, and she can adjust her talk on the fly. "In addition to my family. It'll play nice with the Capitol!"

That excuse seems to win them over – at least for now. Father doesn't look the happiest, but some haggling while they're finishing off dinner and it's agreed that yes, Seraphine can take her friends to the goodbyes as well as her family, half and half.

Who she's actually going to take is an entirely different question. Because she knows people, sure. She's certain that push comes to shove, she can assemble a few people. But at the same time…

Who could she actually name? Alworth, maybe, because he's helped her through enough of the trials by now that he deserves the chance to see her off. But apart from that, there's nothing.

The rest of the dinner is lighter conversation. Her explaining that she's had so much fun at the Academy, and it just wouldn't feel right to pull herself out now in the last week before the Reaping. That she just is sure she'll come home.

That when she gets home, of course she'll listen to her parents – they're her elders after all, and what they say goes. Still, when they talk about finding her a suitable partner…

Well, why should they have to? She can find one herself – anyone they put in front of her will just be not good enough. But that's how it's done, how it's always been done, and so she has to smile and agree and hope that by the time she gets back they'll afford her enough social cachet that she can afford to make her own decisions.

So she nods, and agrees, and smiles. Yes, she'll come back. Of course she'll come back.

How hard could it be?

Penelope St. Monica

District Five

She/It

Home is small – there's only a few rooms, and when one of those is your bedroom and another is mom's, there's not exactly any room to move. Still, Penelope loves home. Even more so when she can wake up, and know that the sun shining through her windows should be making it hot, but the air blasting into her room is making it ever so deliciously cold.

She bounces out of bed with a grin – after all, today's just as good a day as any other! The golden glow of the sun is snaking through a window with blinds that just won't close, she's got work in a few hours but work is more of a night time thing anyways, and so for the moment she can pull on that purple dress that's all that hangs in the wardrobe, and sashay through into the kitchen, where breakfast is already on the table, courtesy of mother. The toast isn't much, but it's a sight better than what some would get – half-half, a mix of tesserae and real grain, the type where you give the baker tesserae grain and don't have to pay as much. A perfect compromise.

She bites into it, and already can feel the tastes lapping across her tongue, one after the other. There's butter, not much but enough that the salt pricks against her tongue, and enough that she is more than content to finish the piece, grab her second and still wish that she could take a third. Has almost reached for it, because there's enough waiting on the table, when Aria comes through and snatches up a piece for herself, taking a bite before grinning down at Penelope.

"Well, Penny. You ready for tonight?" There's no formality in her tone, none of the chiding or disappointment or anything that could be expected of a parent. Instead, there's just… well, familiarity. Because they're family after all, and what can family be expected to do if not look out for each other. Be friendly with each other.

"Yes, Aria!" No 'mom', it's too formal. 'Mom' is far too formal. Aria offers a grin, perches on the edge of the table which creaks under her, and takes another bite of toast, ignoring the dashings of crumbs that fall down like a brown rain to the table.

"And are you sure you're going to look good – nothing on stage, but still. Well." There's a glance cast down at her dress, and Penelope has to roll her eyes, bounce up slightly in her chair and look around.

"Aria. I'm going to be fine, I tell you that a million times and every time you don't believe me and it's just not fair! I'm going to look fabulous, like always. Wash the dress at night, as usual, and it was all ready in the morning! Like always. Sure, it cost a little in tips, but that's not that bad in the long run, is it?" The question hangs like a bat from Penelope's lips, and soon enough they both have to laugh, to nod.

"Sure." Aria's lips are tinged with honey, and she nods, and then finally gives Penelope a gentle pat on the shoulder that's the closest they'll get to any traditional family. "Just make sure you're back early – we need to get there early, and if we're not… well, they might take up all the best spots, and then where will we be, eh?" There's almost chiding there, but soon it's gone.

"Oh, and Penny, sweetie."

"Yeah?"

"We need some stuff, could you go and grab it from downtown? The back downtown, not our downtown. Milk, eggs – you know, the usual. All the stuff that you need to make more food. Oh, and some bread. For the Reaping. Treat yourself, sweetie, last one and then it's off home!"

The sun's hot in the sky, but the shadow city of Vipeche never hides, not when there['s things to do. They may not be the strips that Capitolites go to, may not have the sheltered boulevards and trees and all those other things that they have to keep themselves cool. But the shadow city, cast in gloom by apartment tower after apartment tower, is its own special little place. The sun doesn't reach in, it's all locals save for the occasional brave casino worker or tourist, and it's about the best place Penelope can imagine.

There's so much to see, for one. The fountains at every intersection, pouring cool water out straight from the bay – not the kind of water you can drink (though everyone's been dared to try it at some point or another), but cool and it looks good and the Capitol says it cools the roads down, so who can care. The small plants that line the sides of the street, outside the houses. The banners, this close to reaping day, yellow and that rusted orange that're Five's colours.

There's a heat still in the air when she all but falls into the store, purse in hand as she smiles at the cashier, taps on the desk. "Heya! Ahm, Penelope St. Monica, Aria's daughter. Here to pick up the usual – milk, eggs, butter. Oh, and a loaf of bread. Please."

The woman vanishes behind the counter, Penny can tap her fingers time and again on the desk as she waits. This is the custom in Five, that of the shopkeep going to get everything rather than a self-collect where people could just… walk out.

And she just takes so... long. Until Penny is about to give up, the items are set on the desk before her, and slipping over half a day's earnings she can take the items in return, with a smile and a laugh. "Thank you, miss!"

And the laugh just isn't what she really wants to give. She wishes it was, but she was so bored, and she should have just… left. Instead she's waiting, and trying to keep up the smile as she takes the bag up and walks out, looking around. There's a heat haze in the air, and the sky is bluer than when she'd left, but it's darkening ever so slightly.

Which means she tushes home, skipping through the streets almost. It's nice, and it's a good day, and that means that Penelope St. Monica doesn't need to drag her heels – besides, where's the fun in that!

Getting home, and she finds a set out on the table – snatches up a bite of cheese, a slice of the half-half and half a dozen other things that fit ever so neatly in her hand as she holds her hand under it to make sure none of the crumbs or other detritus falls down.

Aria's laid that out, and yet she isn't here. Penelope can hear her mom working around – going through the list of things that she needs to do, making sure their heels and makeup and everything are ready, because it just makes so little sense to… leave it all behind when they go home.

And so soon enough Penelope can follow Aria outside, bag in her hand – carrying everything they need for another night at work! They can walk outside together, arm in arm, and head downstairs, head out. Head north, towards the back doors of her work.

There's a bright light shining in the prep room when she gets there – so many blondes have their hair golden lit by the light shining down, Ones mainly. A few locals, hair of all different colours. And every one of them… so busy.

"Penny, if you need makeup you're going to need to apply it lighter. You know that. And besides, I think you should get a new dress… The purple's lovely, but it's too permanent." Persimmon taps her shoulder, holding out her own lipstick – a peace offering, maybe, or politeness, but something polite. "Nobody appreciates that much-"

She has more to say, but it's so boring. And she's criticizing Penny when she doesn't know that Penny's sold all the other dresses and that just got some of the interest off the big minus in her account. And besides, Persy had taken her lipstick, like, a year ago. And if there's one thing that Penelope can do, above all, it's… well, hold a grudge. So Penny rolls her eyes, gives Persy a gentle shove.

"They give themselves scales, Persy. I think a little too much makeup is going to be exciting to them – still look more natural than they'd think. Besides, I'm the one who gets their attention more than you do!"

Persy gives a squeak of indignation but turns away, clearly seething in her head. Leaves Penny to get prepared, and soon enough Penelope can step out onto the floor, bright even this late at night, strutting over to a knot of girls gossiping by a table.

"Heya! I'm Penelope – is your night going okay?" There's a start, and when Penny leans in just a bit more she can see the girl at the centre, the one perched on a stool considering what's going on smiling slightly. Looking over with interest, and so that's who Penny stands by, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Who might you be?"

"Amalie!" Amalie's group is chatting, discussing what's going on, but Penelope only has eyes for her. "Need any help? I'm a good luck charm!" She can see Amalie begin to move away for a second to head to a different table, but then stop. Turn around, smile. "Sure! I do love company, and this lot is so boring." There's mocked sighs of disbelief from the rest of her group, and soon enough they can establish a rapport. Amalie's an ex-geology student, the kind of student every teacher loved. She's doing her Progress through the Districts – Five first, because Vipeche is oh so close, and then the mountains of Two, Seven's tourist spots, pretty Fair Isle in three and then back up through One. It's a nice plan, the kind Penny would oh so love to go on were she able to afford it.

As it stands, instead Penny lures Amalie over to a table, a better table, rest of the flock of Capitol girls following after her. It's a simple game – pick the colour you think the card will be from the swatch of 30, hope that your colour turns up – the closer to yours it is, the more likely your win is. It's such a popular game, and one that doesn't require much waiting, which means Penny can sit Amalie down with a giggle and just… get excited. Not put anything herself down - not after last time. But still, she can encourage others.

"C'mon." Penny's got her hands around Amalie's arm, and is already pressing in with a voice of honeyed silver. "You can do it. Just one more, and I'm sure that you'll get it." Amalie's not doing it yet, and already Penny is bored.

Amalie's friends are arrayed around them, all (Penelope is certain) as drunk as her target. Still, it's Amalie who has the choice, and she leans into the encouragement that Penny presses, casting her call to Black as it goes. The mirrored surface of the card flips to black, and the chips are all shoved after that towards Amalie, who squeals with delight. Excited.

There's a mischievous grin on Penny's lips, and already she's taking a few coins out of the pile, giving a giggle to Amalie as she slips them into a pocket. "These are mine, by the way! My tip, I think that's fair enough?" There's a round of nodding, and already there's a stool emptying that she can dance over and take, heels tapping against the floor and the hard carpet as she drags it back towards the table with a smile painted onto her face, shove it into place and sit down on it, perching with a smile.

"Again?" There's a slight interest, but soon enough Amalie has to go – she's hungry, and she'd sure love to get to know Penny some more. So they sneak off together, and head to the bar, where Penny can giggle to the bartender, and look to Amalie, who asks for a burger as if that's some kind of food they'd have in the Capitol. She looks to Pene, and well… that's lovely of her, but Penny reaches her hand across the bar, asks for a side of the breaded prawns because they're oh so good, and soon enough can have the long, thin plate slipped onto the table in front of her.

They're perfect snacking, after all. She can take one, bite down on it and feel the explosion of juices into her mouth. She tries to pay, really does, but when Amalie just insists she has to pay, then. Well, Amalie's the Capitolite, and the one who's dropping on drinks while Penny just has her normal mocktails. Fizzy, and with a kick, but not the kind of alcoholic nightmare that makes Penny too bleary.

They chat some more. Penny steals a few of Amalie's chips while the Capitolite lays into the burger, ferocious as a mountain lion. Amalie revenges herself with a prawn, and in an instant it's a challenge of theft and countertheft. The food goes, and Penny's found a few things. Like that Amalie is looking to be hired as a Junior Gamemaker directly out of university – she has the talent for it, graduated top of her class, and the qualifications.

And oh… oh. There's a birth of an idea, but for now Penelope reaches out for her second drink, and Amalie (who's already slurring her words just a little bit) pays, and lovely.

After her second one, then maybe there's a bit too much courage given Amalie's by now obvious intoxication, because when Amalie is paying, Penny can reach out and get something sweet and bubbly and so so alcoholic. Only one, though. And it may be that it tastes a bit off at first in spite of everything that's been added to it, all the sweeteners and syrups, but when her head's beginning to blur and tighten, and she can feel that rush after that that means she's feeling so good? She doesn't go any further, leaves it mostly drunk. She's ready to play, now, and food's gone. So she can step down, and have fun, and go and drag Amalie onto the dance floor where half the crowd is jumping. The lights are flashing, and the music is loud, and any mess or worry that may be born is gone in the bounce. Amalie looks a bit overwhelmed, but Penelope lives here. Is made here. And the lights and excitement… she was born to this.

The rest of the night is good. After all, she's got a pretty girl. She can guide Amalie around, and spin her, and they can dance together with twirls and frills and spins and Penelope can demonstrate her skills – backflips and high kicks and all kinds of things that a showgirl out of Five just has to know. She might not be performing tonight, but it doesn't cost anything to show off. And when Amalie looks half-dazzled by the lights and excitement that Penelope lives for, the little fun she can offer is worth so much more.

And it's something that busies her until 3 am, when her friends sling her over their shoulders, and a guard comes with them, and then they can head out. But not before she pitches… well, one more thing.

"Hey… Amalie. Could you do me a favour?"

Amalie nods, bleary eyed, takes the note slipped to her by Penelope.

"If you see a girl called Olivine in your internship… Olivine Delphi. Tell her I'm thinking about her. Give her that note. Thanks." There's a grin. And maybe Penelope can send a message to one person who actually cares.

Or maybe not. She'll get that message regardless. Could wait for Olivine to come back, but it's been so long, and Penny has work, and she'll never see it again.

Right?

Author's Note

Big thank you to Pacecca for Seraphine and HumanWiki for Penelope - very much looking forward to them 3

District Eleven next week, with Laecello and Holiday!