Chapter Text
Comfort? - Voltaea
Voltaea Amprole finally understands what comfort feels like - maybe for the first time in her life - her thoughts are too scattered for her to be certain of anything right now. Alara’s bed is massive - softer than anything she’s ever laid on. The robe she’s claimed as her own feels nice - but it’s nothing compared to engulfing herself in silk sheets, downy pillows, and the soothing heat of her mentor’s presence. The rhythm of the room is a comfort, too - the rustling of silk-on-silk, the soft chatter from Alara’s recordings of her show playing on low volume, the slowly receding thunder of her pulse.
She asks if she can stay, still trying to fight back the impulsive edge the stimulants seem to give her to no avail - leaning into the comfort of the hand on her cheek. The words just fall out of her, thoughts lagging far behind - “I don’t want to wake up alone again.” For a moment, she regrets it - a sharp pang grips her chest.
Any lasting regret she has melts away as Alara’s lips press against her forehead, her whispered promise wrapping her in a warmth she’s never felt before - “I already told you on the train, darling - I’ll never let you feel alone again.”
She opens her eyes then, snaking an arm around Alara’s shoulders to pull herself closer, burying her face in the silk of her mentor’s robe as she mutters a weak “Thank you.” A voice at the back of her mind whispers that she’s wrong to embrace this - to lose herself so completely in this woman’s presence - she drowns the thought in the scent of cherry, rose, and cigarette smoke wafting off of Alara’s skin.
Alara runs her fingers through Voltaea’s hair, the scrape of nails across her scalp sends a pleasant shiver down her spine. “Shall I grab us a nightcap?” A knot forms in her stomach - the memory of the last time she’d had a drink and made herself look foolish is still fresh. Bad idea - don’t mess up whatever you have going here. Alara traces her fingertips down the side of Voltaea’s neck, pressing them lightly against her pulse point. “Your heartbeat is still going wild, darling - it might help you unwind a bit.”
Something in the way Alara says it - a soft touch, a kind word, the concern in her eyes - Maybe it’ll be okay this time? It’s not like I can embarrass myself any worse today. She shoves her doubts back into the far corner of her mind - “Okay, but nothing too strong this time.”
Her mentor plants a kiss on her cheek - every nerve in her body flares in response - “Wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Voltaea fights the urge to cling to the warmth of her when she moves off the bed - Don’t be needy, she’s coming right back. She pulls the sheets up over her instead - the sleek feeling of silk-on-skin is still a comfort she can control.
Alara opens the door - the faint hiss of mechanics is a sound she’s gotten used to here. She spots the television remote on the bedside table and rolls over to grab it - backing out of tonight’s show and flipping back through an extensive list of older broadcasts that Alara seems to have recorded. Hundreds of shows, hundreds of nights - she finally lands on one from last year’s tribute parade.
The opening is different - they’ve changed the theme music and the set from last year to this one - but the three women on screen are sat in the same positions as they are now. Alara has extensive bags under her eyes - she’s smoking a cigarette so quickly that a lit ash falls onto the table in front of her, extinguished by a stagehand before it becomes a full-blown fire. She snaps at him to stop ruining her camera angle - Selica pipes up to remind her they’re live. She seems upset about something.
It doesn’t take her long to realize why when she sees the tributes from Five - both very young, terrified-looking, clinging to each other as they board the chariot - they were weak contenders. She hates that . Voltaea didn’t know either of them, and with her coma after the accident last year’s games were out of sight, out of mind. Selica and Ismene exchange words about how lovely their outfits are - Alara snaps - “Great! So they’ll die beautiful. There’s hardly any point in covering these two, can we move along?” It’s the same way she talks about Coulomb.
Part of her wants to hate that - a small voice nags at the back of her mind that what she’s seeing is cruel, dismissive - like she’s abandoned her duty to protect these two. But another part of her - a darker voice, becoming louder by the minute - that tells her she’s broken through that cruelty by being different - better - I am something special to her, then.
The door hisses as it slides open again. Alara slips into the room holding two glasses full of purplish liquid, and elbows the button to shut it behind her. She stops halfway to the bed as her televised counterpart cackles performatively at something Selica had said. Her face contorts, a look of pain flashing across it before she smooths herself back into composure - “Gods, I was a disaster last year. Not an ounce of gamesmanship in either of the two they sent me - did you know that boy died twelve seconds after the countdown ended?”
That had to be some kind of record - she wasn’t sure - most of her studying had focused on the tributes who won, not who died. “No - I was in a coma, I didn’t watch last year.”
Alara turns to look at her, head cocked to the side - a smirk creeps across her face - “And yet, here you are - a hundred times the contender in spite of it all.” Voltaea feels a burning shock creep into her cheeks again. Alara slides onto the bed next to her, handing her a glass. “We’ll toast to that.” She brings her glass up to Voltaea’s clinking them together before downing half of it.
Voltaea smells the purple liquid - it’s sweet, less rotten than the last wine she’d had, but not a scent she can identify. “What is this? It doesn’t smell like wine.”
“That’s because it’s a plum liqueur - try some. If you don’t like it I can always grab something else.” Voltaea takes a tentative sip - it burns its way down her throat, but the taste isn’t bad by any means. She doesn’t gag this time, at least.
“It’s actually pretty g-” She coughs as the burn hits her stomach. “Good. Kinda burns, though. Is that normal?”
“You get used to it.” Alara drains the rest of her glass and leans back into the pile of pillows - setting it down with a soft clack on the nightstand. Voltaea tries to do the same, but the burning sensation in her throat nearly makes her cough again. “Darling, you don’t have to keep up on my account - I’ve had a bit more practice.”
The heat building in her stomach seems to spread slowly to her extremities - she puts her own glass down and rests her head on Alara’s shoulder. “Can I ask another question?”
“Alright, but this has to be the last one - I think you’ve just about exhausted my patience for questions tonight, my sweet.” Alara wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer, Voltaea shifts to her side, wrapping one of her legs over Alara’s own.
“Earlier, you were talking about my um… my mother’s brother. What did he do to make you so angry?” She feels Alara’s grip tighten, the tremor rising in her hand - her whole body stiffens. “I mean… you told me you’d tell me once I told you what was bothering me, and I did that, right?”
Alara shifts, reaching for her nightstand and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the drawer. She lights one, taking a long pull and letting the smoke pour out her nose and making an awful noise in response. “If you really must know, I’ll tell you. I suppose I shouldn’t start breaking my promises now, after all that’s happened tonight.” She flushes - Alara lets a light tone of teasing creep into her voice - “But if you tell anyone I got emotional, I’ll have to kill you myself.”
It’s not a real threat - at least, I don’t think it is - but the shaking in Alara’s hand and the tension in her grip is enough to know this bothers her. “I won't - I promise.” She wraps an arm over her mentor’s chest and squeezes. “You don’t have to be alone either.”
The silence before Alara speaks again is deafening - cigarette smoke swirls around her head like a smog cloud - there’s a sharp cough, and then - “It started when we were in school together. Teslene had somehow discovered a brief tryst I had over summer break with a local girl - I can’t even remember her name now, not that it matters. The rumors she started in the wake of that were the part that stuck with me…”
“She can be awful…” Voltaea doesn’t have to stretch her imagination much for this, she’s experienced that coldness first-hand her whole life - her teeth clench. I’m sorry for her.
“Don’t interrupt, darling - But yes, awful might even be an understatement. That woman made me a pariah among our peers.” Alara stubs her cigarette out at the bottom of her empty glass. “Tesla started following me after school, then. At first, it was just to shout obscenities after me with a group of his friends - but they bored much quicker than he did. The boy was nothing if not persistent.”
Voltaea watches as her mentor shifts her hand to her own upper thigh, digging her shaking claws into the soft flesh of them hard enough to leave welts. “One day he managed to catch up to me - I was usually quite adept at sneaking off before he could get too close. But he cornered me behind an old tenement block in the coal burning sector. Said he was going to ‘fix me’ - that I was only the way I was because I hadn’t had a real man like him - and… well…” Her voice trails off. Oh. The realization of what Alara is implying hits her like a loaded freight train - her stomach threatens to unload itself but she chokes back the bile.
She looks up and notices the tears streaking down Alara’s cheeks - taking the remains of her eyeliner with them. Voltaea reaches up - wiping them away with the corner of her sleeve. “You don’t have to say any more. I… get the picture.” Alara’s emerald gaze shifts to her, head tilting to the side - her expression is pain and surprise in equal measure. It’s the only vulnerability she’s ever seen on the usually confident woman’s face. Voltaea tries to find the right words - to say something, anything that might stop the choked sniffling from above her. All she can think of is - “For what it’s worth, I would have killed him too.”
There’s a brief silence that Alara breaks with a sharp, choked laugh - “You know, given your treatment of that pompous ass at the parade - I believe that.” She wipes the rest of her tears with her own robe, makeup still streaked across her face. “Gods, I must be a mess right now - it’s been a long time since I’ve spoken about my time back home.” Her voice is hoarse, but still has that hint of music to it that makes Voltaea’s heart race.
“It's… a nice mess to look at.” That was stupid, why did I say that?
Alara laughs again, less tearfully this time - “Let’s add how to give a proper compliment to the list of things you need to practice, shall we?” She runs her fingers through Voltaea’s hair, brushing it behind her ear. “Though I appreciate the effort, darling. It was an admirable attempt at sweetness.” She watches the tremor in her mentor’s hand recede as they relax into each other’s presence - silent except for the sounds of the room around them. Whatever she drank earlier seems to be fogging up the corners of her thoughts - the feeling is warm - calming, even. I don’t ever want to move from this spot.
It’s a nice thought - suddenly interrupted by the ear-splitting ring of a phone nearby. “Oh for fucks sake - who calls at this hour?” Alara mutters as she shifts to her side to grab the receiver. “This had better be important -”
A slurred voice booms from the speakers - Alara pulls it back from her ear - “Alara dear, you missed sooooooo much delicious drama this evening! I simply couldn’t wait to catch you up -” That voice sounds familiar, I can’t place it.
Voltaea pipes up without thinking - “Who is that?” Alara shoots her a glare, putting a finger to her lips to silently shush her. It’s too late - the voice on the other end of the line seems to have heard. Whoops.
“OH! You have a guest - in your private suite no less? Tell me everything - gods! You’re full of surprises this year aren’t you?” Alara lets out a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes. Voltaea tries not to look too much like she's eavesdropping - but she can't help herself.
“Selica, darling, you’re clearly very drunk right now - perhaps you’re hearing things? We can discuss your drama in the morning, I’m quite tired -” THAT'S who it is! Her accent is so different than it is on TV.
“Oh no no, you’re not getting off that easily - this is the development of the decade! In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you allow a woman into your own be-” Alara hangs up before Selica can finish her sentence. Voltaea feels like she’s sinking into the silk sheets - she starts giggling against her better judgement.
“Voltaea -” Alara’s voice has a sharpness to it that snaps her out of her stupor. “Consider yourself lucky that woman is too drunk to remember our conversation -” She leans over, letting her lips brush across Voltaea’s ear, and whispers “- unless you’re feeling eager to reveal the nature of our relationship to the entire Capitol gossip circuit, it’s probably wise to exercise some subtlety from now on.” Oh shit.
“I’m s-” she cuts herself off - No apologizing. “You’re right. That would be…” her thoughts are starting to swirl incoherently - Words are hard. All she can focus on is the softness of Alara’s breath in her ear, snaking down her spine and lighting off sparks in her stomach - “Wait, what IS the nature of our relationship?”
Alara pulls back slightly, a sly smirk on her lips. “I thought I told you we were done with questions tonight.” She cups a hand around Voltaea’s jaw and pulls her upward into a kiss that shatters every remaining thought in her mind at once.
Her body seems to respond on instinct - she wraps an arm around Alara and laces her fingers through her curls, pulling her tighter - closer. Her heartbeat th-thumps violently against her ribs, mixing with the ragged rhythm of her breathing. Her gut feels like it’s on fire - the feeling creeps lower - she lets out a faint, whining noise against her mentor’s lips without thinking. Shit. Summoning a last bit of sense, she releases her grip on Alara’s hair and pulls back before she can embarrass herself further. She tries to catch her breath, to stammer out something that sounds like a sensible explanation for her sudden outburst - “I… ah…”
Alara still wears a devious grin on her face - she shifts her grip from Voltaea’s jaw to the back of her head, and tilts it to the side. “What…” she doesn’t have time to finish her question before Alara leans in and plants a kiss on the side of her neck that elicits another strange noise from her throat - deeper - more guttural this time. She tries to clap a hand over her mouth but Alara catches it with her free one and pins it back against the pillow. Fuck, she’s fast.
“Darling, I thought we were past all this insecurity?” Alara purrs against her throat - she can feel the smile on her face as she speaks - her own burns in response. It’s… too much. She gasps as Alara starts running up the length of her neck with her tongue - her breath runs ragged - static starts to buzz in her ears again. When her mentor reaches her earlobe, she bites down - not hard - it still makes her swear. An unfamiliar heat builds between her legs and she clamps them together to try and chase it off - Shit, I’m sweating, please don’t notice.
Alara releases her ear - pulling back slightly - just enough that she can still feel every breath. She lets out a smoky, songlike whisper - “There. Does that answer your question?” Voltaea nods weakly - words completely lost to the moment. Alara turns away and adjusts the pillows on the bed behind her so she can lie down, leaving Voltaea breathless. “Lean forward, I’ll fix yours while I’m at it.”
Voltaea slumps forward, burying her face into the sheets in front of her until she feels a hand on her shoulder guiding her backward into the pillows. She’s shaking - exhausted, probably - she rolls onto her side and pulls a mass of sheets up over her head in a half-hearted attempt to hide the look of embarrassment still plastered across her face. Alara pulls it down almost immediately and plants a soft kiss on her forehead - “If you want to stay, you have to stop with the theatrics.” her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge of seriousness to it. “You haven’t done anything worth feeling this much shame about, my sweet.”
She still can’t bring herself to speak - instead opting to curl herself into the space at Alara’s side and giving her a small nod. “ Good girl. ” Those two words coil themselves around her core and drag her even closer - she wraps herself around the other woman like a snake.
Voltaea tries to cling to a cohesive thought - everything is too heavy - too full of static to make sense of. Alara scratches at her scalp and she feels herself sink further into the bed - Calm. The distant voices on the television make up a pleasant enough chorus to lean into when combined with the sound of Alara’s breathing. Collected. She’s more exhausted than she realized - the pull of sleep takes her under before she has a chance to finish the mantra.