Chapter Text
Hangover: Alara
“Alaraaaa. Psssssssssssssstttttt- you have to wake up- pspspspspspspspsps- ouch!” Alara feels her hand smack into something fleshy - and loud! Gods, I feel horrible! She tries to open her eyes - the stark, too-bright light overhead stabs at the back of them - she slams them shut again. I don’t believe in cool-toned lighting… so this isn’t my suite… fuck! With that new rush of adrenaline, she pushes herself upright, nearly blinding herself in an effort to get oriented. This is…
Ismene doesn’t look half as affected by their nighttime escapades- she stands above Alara, towering over the sofa with a smug smirk and bottle of water in hand. She tosses the bottle into Alara’s lap - “Drink this, you need to be presentable in ten minutes.” I need to… what?! “Closer to eight, now, I suppose. You were harder than I expected to wake up.”
“I don’t like being woken up prematurely.” Alara chokes down a few sips of the water- Anger aside, my mouth feels like it’s full of sawdust- before drilling her cohost for answers “And I like being rushed even less- what could possibly be so important at this hour!?”
“Oh! Yes! I almost forgot! You have a meeting with the president.” Alara nearly chokes - her chest squeezes, too tight- FUCK! I should have known this was coming. “He’s in the building personally, from what your escort told me on the phone.” Ismene fumbles through her purse- How is she already up and dressed for the day? And hands Alara a familiar-looking pill-bottle. “I know you prefer your powders, but this will have to do - I don’t think I can get you down to your room and back before he’s here.”
Alara pops the lid of the bottle off, scowling at the contents - “There’s only two of these left-”
“And whose fault is that? Hm?” Ismene laughs - “I don’t touch the stuff. I only keep the uppers around for you, you know.” Alara thinks back to the last half-dozen times she’d pulled stims out of her co-hosts purse while her back was turned - She KNEW!? And LET me?!
Alara tosses back the remaining stims - Gods I hope this is enough to keep me upright - then asks, “Why would you do that? Do you haul around a morphling stash for Selica as well, hm?”
“I don’t.” Ismene’s smile drops, brow furrowing - “But she’s not the type to sift through my purse for a fix, is she?” And I am?! Well… that’s not entirely unfair. “It’s easier on me if you’re taking something predictable. So I keep something nice and predictable on hand for you, that’s all.” Before Alara can even process- her co-host is hauling her up off of the sofa she’d apparently slept on and ushering her into the attached bathroom of her suite - “We’re down to five minutes, by the way. You should do something about your hair.”
Catching sight of herself in the mirror hung behind the enormous, seafoam-and-blue tiled bathtub at the far end of the room, Alara can see why- I look like I was dragged behind a moving train and left for dead. “Do you have-”
Ismene is already piling combs, brushes, and hair products on the sink - “I have no idea what you do with those curls of yours, but I assume there must be something here you can use.”
Head still pounding, Alara sets to work trying to make sense of the tangled mess sitting atop her head while her co-host chatters away about the - admittedly quite blurry, on my end - events of the night before. As soon as she mentions watching the games, the questions start pouring out again - “Is she alright?-” “Of course-”
“But what has she been doing?! Where is she now?! Gods, I need to go ch-”
“Alara, she’s fine.” Ismene sighs heavily - “Although… she couldn't have slept more than a few hours last night. She was awake when I fell asleep and off with that girl by the time I woke up.”
“What was she doing all night? Did we see?!” The tightness in Alara’s chest grows stronger, threatening to rip the air from her lungs-
“I mean, all we saw was that she spent the whole night carving something into a piece of scrap metal. The cameras weren’t picking up whatever it was- you were very vocal about the camera placement choices this year.” Alara rolls her eyes.
“I assume that’s because they catch every angle but the important ones, like they always seem to.” So you’re writing something down. Or sketching. What is it you’re planning, my love? “You really think she’s alright?”
“Yes! Alara. You have to at least TRY to calm down, really.” Ismene grabs her shoulder, turning Alara to face her- expression grim - “That man will smell your fear the second he steps through the doors if you don’t. That’s leverage you don’t want him having over you.”
“I…” She’s right, of course. Alara tries to gather her thoughts, to calm her racing heart- Just breathe. “Could you try to buy me some time? This knot is being especially stubborn-” she asks as she works one of the combs through the back of her hair. I’m going to look a mess either way, but at least I’ll have a few minutes of solitude before… whatever he wants.
“I’ll see if I can stall him at the elevator.” Ismene pats her shoulder, softly, then takes her leave. Alara waits until she hears the door to the suite open and shut again- then screams.
It does nothing to soothe the pounding in her head, or her chest, but it does take the edge off her frustration just enough to think properly again. Voltaea isn’t sleeping- this is bad, this is bad, this is- no. This is WHY you gave her stimulants, Alara. You knew she didn’t sleep, you knew that would help her stay alive through that, you fixed the problem. Don’t spiral, don’t doubt, don’t FUCKING hesitate! You have to NAIL this conversation for BOTH of your futures or NEITHER of you is getting through this. Now get your shit together and GO!
She’s not presentable - or prepared - But Alara steps out of the bathroom with her head held high. Stabbing pains and all. A knock at the door tells her Ismene hadn’t been able to hold him up for long - But at least she managed long enough for me to talk myself off the ledge. I’m going to owe her a small fortune in favors by the time Voltaea gets back… ugh.
The door slides open before she reaches it- I’d expect nothing less. - and the president himself strides in, waving off a duo of armed Peacekeepers following in tow. They take up posts just outside the door as it slides shut again, leaving Alara to whatever it is he has in store - Fuck.
Silence hangs thick as the two stare each other down from across the room. Snow breaks it first. “Miss Vox.” Alara suddenly feels small. Not because he’s nearly a foot taller, but because of the way he says her name in the exact same way he has since she was sixteen. Amused, condescending, with a touch of disdain. Like she’s a prized toy - fun, but ultimately worthless. “You’ve caused quite a stir with the public this year.”
Immediately, she jumps to her own defense - “I can assure you that was NOT my intent-” well… a bit, but- “And WHOEVER is responsible for leaking those photos clearly has some sort of vendetta against me, so I don’t know why I’M the one under interrogation here when-”
He holds up a hand and her voice dies in her throat. “You are not being interrogated today, Miss Vox.” Alara almost relaxes for a moment before he follows with - “I already have information that points to you leaking much of the evidence of your… relationship, on your own.” Fuck.
“I did no such thing! I-”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t waste my time with lies, today.” Snow shuts down her protests - “You’ve publicly taken up with your tribute and helped her break the rules of the Games by smuggling performance-enhancing drugs into my arena. I could have you hung for that part alone.”
Alara slams her eyes shut, shaking her head in some vain effort to chase off the fear that thought strikes in her. “I-”
“However.” Snow crosses the room, stopping inches away. He reaches out a hand and tilts her face upward to face him and it takes every ounce of restraint she has not to slap it away - “You have captured the nation’s attention.” I’d be willing to bet ratings are up across the board compared to last year’s Games. “And what’s more, you seem to have convinced that girl to kill for you. I’ve been watching her attempts to snuff out our little rebels with great interest.” He’s noticed that you’re trying, darling- that’s the best we can hope for. “If you hadn’t set her on the right path, we would be having a very different conversation.”
“Do you really still doubt me after all this time?” Alara tries to seem confident, as close to casual teasing as she can manage with the man without inviting an assasination attempt - Just don’t show fear, that’s what he wants. “As I told you over the phone, Voltaea is-”
“Miss Amprole has proved herself unstable and prone to explosive outbursts. The only reason she is being allowed to live for the time being is that I still have a use for her.” Let’s hope you stay useful in his eyes, then. “If you would rather I let the Gamemakers interfere-”
Alara tries not to sound desperate and fails miserably, tears already streaming down her cheeks - “Dont!” I’ll never forgive myself for this weakness. “Please…”
A cruel smile plays at the corner of his lips - “I have no plans to. For now.” He fishes for something in the pocket of his blazer, pulling out a small, unlabeled, white envelope. “This time, I have a task for you to carry out personally.”
She has to squint to read the tiny print writing on the paper - Names? But whose names are- oh fuck me- There’s at least one other victor on this list I recognize… Isn’t he from Ismene’s District? Or is he from Nine? Gods, there’s so many of us now, I can’t be expected to remember all of us, can I? Steeling herself for an answer she knows in her heart of hearts will be awful, Alara asks- “What is it you’d like me to do with this, precisely?”
“Every name on this list belongs to someone we have tied to rebel activities. Not with enough evidence for a public trial, of course - especially not with a former victor on the list.” Alara doesn’t have to hear the rest to know what he wants - Plausible deniability. He’s always been good at that. “And with some of these names coming from upstanding families… It would be less embarrassing for everyone if they were out of the picture, don’t you think?” Less embarrassing for him, perhaps. “I will provide you with everything you need to keep things neat, of course.”
That’s all this is? This is just how the Games are played! For me out here, for you in there - It’s no different. It’s always going to be us or them, darling - and I’ll be choosing us EVERY time. “It might take me some time, there’s at least a dozen of these rats to get through…”
“You have a month.” They spend a few minutes discussing the technicalities - what poison he’d like her to use, a few pointers on who-knows-who she could use to get close to some of the less-familiar names. Alara can’t believe her luck - A few killings is nothing compared to what I thought he wanted me to do with them… As he turns to leave, Snow gives her a last warning - “Whether or not that girl ends up our victor, you will be held responsible for her. If she dies it’s only a matter of time before someone leaks the autopsy report, and I won’t be stepping in to conceal your actions this time. The Capitol public may be on your side for now, but I doubt you’ll look as earnest in your intentions once they know about the chemical cocktail you were feeding that girl.”
He keeps mentioning that he knew about the drugs… “We were flagged in the token inspections, then?” Well fuck me, how is Selica flying under the radar?!
Snow ignores her question, instead asking one of his own, “Do you know why I’ve always appreciated you, Miss Vox?” Alara shakes her head - But gods I hope it’s not something foul. “You’re desperate.” The words hit her like a punch to the gut - Is that all I am? “And that makes you predictable. I can always trust that whatever it is you’re doing, it’s in service of your own survival. We both know who holds the keys to that continued survival, don’t we?” Alara nods. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting aloud that he has that hold. “Good. I’ll be in touch.”
With that, he leaves, and Alara collapses onto the couch in a heap. Ismene comes crashing back into the room not long after, moving faster than she’s ever seen, and practically throws herself onto the other end of the sofa. She looks Alara over, pausing when she sees the defeated expression on her face. After a pause, she says - “I take it that wasn’t just pleasant chatter, then.”
“No.” With a heavy sigh, Alara sits herself upright - It’s not as though I have anyone else to confide in about this - and hands her co-host the envelope. “It seems I’m going to be getting my hands dirty on his behalf once again.”
“Oh my…” Ismene mutters to herself as she scans the list of names- “They’ve recruited quite a few from the Capitol now, haven’t they?”
“And at least one former victor.” The rest of those sorts aren’t stupid enough to get caught up trying to recruit godsforsaken fashion designers to their cause.
“Don’t worry about Jora. I’ll handle that one.” Ismene smiles, but her eyes are full of tears - “It’s such a shame. He was really quite a showman in his prime. We had a brief affair, you know. It was after he gave that speech during the mentor’s gala- gods it must have been a decade ago now- and he just had such a perfect sense of dramatic timing...”
“I still struggle to believe this is your sole criterion in choosing who to take into your bed-” Alara snarks at her, but Ismene just shrugs. Ridiculous. Then it hits her - “You’re not- for fucks sake, you’re going to insert yourself RIGHT into this plan aren’t you-”
“Of course!” Alara gives her the deadliest stare she can muster, but Ismene just laughs- does NO ONE respect me anymore?! “You handed me the invitation, Alara, don’t play coy.” Gods, I’m useless. Why WOULD they? She turns her eyes back to the list and taps one of the names - “This woman is one of Selica’s biggest sponsors, isn’t she?”
“Well, she was a major sponsor. Right up until she swapped her support to Nine a few years back.” Alara recalls the slurred tirade and subsequent tears she’d had to suffer through to acquire that knowledge and adds- “Don’t tell Selica I told you- I think it’s still a bit of a sore spot.”
“Oh but it’s such a perfect way to get her on board!” Ismene pouts.
“Absolutely not!” Alara shakes her head, desperation creeping into her voice - “No! We’re not bringing her into this too, it’s obnoxious enough that you-”
“But Selica loves revenge!” Ismene interrupts her, unwilling to let this go - “And with the President’s permission to use poison no less? Gods, Alara, it would be cruel to leave her out! We’ll be in the studio in an hour, and you know she never has anything useful to say before we go on air- why don’t we just-”
“I said NO-”
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“He told you this would be neat? Alara dear, this is the LAST poison you want to be using for a neat death.” Selica hands the vial back to her and sighs, “You need something that targets the smooth muscle. That will stop the heart. Don’t touch anything like this unless you want your victims foaming at the mouth and screaming their way into the afterlife.” She lights another cigarette off the dying embers of her last one with a cough.
“You know she wanted to leave you out of this, right?” Ismene gives Alara a smug look - She’s just as much of a rat as the rebels on that fucking list, damnit!
Selica rolls her eyes - “She’d have kept it to herself for a day before telling me anyway.” then turns to Alara and asks- “There are fourteen names on this list, and he gave you - what - a month?”
“That’s right.”
“Then he knew you’d ask us for help, too. Perhaps you should try and be a bit less predictable, hm?” Alara’s face burns scarlet and she spins her chair around to face her mirror- to look at anything but her smug fucking face, really- as Selica bursts into laughter - “There’s no need to be dramatic, Alara- I’m obviously here to help. It’s not as though I can let you hang- that would be terrible for ratings!”
Styling seems to take a small eternity - and as Selica calls a moratorium on any talk of assasination until after they’ve gone on air, Alara is left with nothing to do but stew in her thoughts. I haven’t checked on her in hours! Damnit- She tries to get up but Selica barks at her to sit down, instead instructing one of the studio staff to bring a small monitor for Alara to watch the live feeds on. It brings her some small amount of peace to see Voltaea still alive and relatively unharmed - I just have to keep you that way, darling. Gods, it was bad enough having myself to worry about! In the entire time she watches the feeds, Voltaea doesn’t speak to the girl walking next to her. Things have run cold between you two rather quickly, haven’t they? A small panic grips her when she notices Selica’s girl following her own once again - but Cymbria doesn’t make a move to get any closer. She just follows, with her sidekick in tow. Is her entire strategy just to hide in your shadow? I don’t like this.
There are no special guests in the studio today- no surprise ambushes from long-forgotten fucks who want me ruined. It’s just the three of them today, wearing three new dresses with inflatable, donut-ring shoulderpads that Alara tries to protest - “I’m not going on air dressed like a pink marshmallow- at LEAST find one of these in my color!”. They swap it, after some back and forth bickering, for a green one - Still hideous, of course. But at least it’s a half-decent color.
Their show begins with a recap of the day's most interesting events so far- though Selica really has to stretch to find anything noteworthy that has happened since the previous night. Voltaea and her stalkers barely merit a mention- they’ve been walking for hours now and haven’t come across another soul. The outer district alliance is still preoccupied with their internal struggles - with two distinct factions starting to form, both with very different ideas about how to treat Eight’s injuries. This also means they haven’t accomplished much beyond sorting their supplies and arguing - It’s good to see you’re not the only one with weak allies trying to hold you back, darling. Alara smiles when she spots the boy from Seven hiding behind a stack of shipping containers - Did you send him here to watch them, darling? Good girl. With the Two’s tending to their bloodbath injuries, and the Ten’s on a hunt for water- the only other interesting footnote is the lone tribute from District Three managing to survive her first day.
The girl has found her way into a crumbling web of subway tunnels beneath the city, setting up camp at an old station after stumbling along the track for hours the night prior. As Ismene points out, she seems to be the only tribute who has found their way down here. The implication to the wider audience is that this is a good thing. Ismene certainly makes it sound like a testament to the girl’s intellect - but anyone with half a brain knows the Gamemakers won’t want her off on her own for long.
Selica stands, ready to cut for a commercial, when the siren cuts through the studio. Alara - head still throbbing from her hangover - claps her hands over her ears and groans loudly - “I’d like to get my hands on whoever thought this was good sound design!” The siren cuts off, and the arena is bombarded - every tribute suddenly bathed in bright-white light.