Chapter Text
Stagecraft - Alara
“Darling, are you asleep?” Alara Vox doesn’t feel her girl so much as shift when she speaks - and she would feel it with the way Voltaea is wrapped around her. Like you want to hold me in place forever. She reaches a hand tentatively towards the leg her girl has flung across her lap and shifts it off - Voltaea doesn’t move - thank the gods. The sedatives she slipped into her drink should in theory keep her out cold for a while, but you can never be too sure. Tonight couldn’t be going more her way - every seed she’s planted since they met seem to be blooming all at once. The only thing that hadn’t gone quite to plan was her little venture into her own past. It’s not something she’d wanted to dredge up by any means - but it doesn’t seem to have deterred her girl from clinging to her. If anything, she’d wanted to be even closer by exposing the rawest parts of herself for the first time in years. It’s… an unfamiliar feeling, being seen in that state and still feeling something like acceptance at the other side. She plants a kiss on her girl’s forehead - a moment of softness before she has to start her work for the night. Sorry, my sweet, but I have to seize this narrative before someone else does.
She slides off the edge of the bed in silence - Voltaea mumbles something in her sleep, but doesn’t wake. Alara steals a last look at her - her heart races when she sees the poor thing has rolled partway out of her robe. She’s tempted for a moment to wake her and finish what she had started earlier - Calm yourself, that would defeat the purpose of leaving her wanting. She slips out of the room and shuts the door behind her, stalking down the hall as quietly as she can manage until she reaches the entrance to the elevator - the whole floor must be out cold by now. Well, save for the avox standing in the lounge - but he doesn’t so much as acknowledge her presence. Even if he did - it’s not like he’s much of a witness without a tongue to flap.
The elevator lets her off at the studio floor - it’s all lit by dim, yellowish lights at this hour - much kinder on the eyes than the bright overheads they use during filming. She pushes her way through the doors to the Crimson Cut studio and is greeted by the sight of Ismene fucking Lux passed out on the central sofa in complete disarray - dark makeup streaked down her face, hair tangled like she’s been standing in the wind all night. Too drunk to make it back to her own suite, of course. There’s several half-finished cocktails spread across the coffee table - clearly the cleaners haven’t made it in yet. The place reeks of stale liquor and desperation.
Ismene is chillingly still - corpse-like. Of course they’d leave me this mess to deal with. She watches for a moment to see if she can track the rise and fall of the woman’s chest - she can’t tell if she’s even breathing from this distance. Fuck me. Alara sneaks to her side and holds out a hand a few inches in front of her mouth - alright, still breathing at least. As she turns away she rams her shin into the coffee table and swears - loudly.
“Hmm- oh! Alaraaa, what a surprise!” Ismene’s slurred drawl cuts through the silence. Alara tenses - This is exactly the punishment I’d invite on myself by checking if she’s alive, why do I bother? “You’re veeeerry late for the party.” She turns around to see the half-dead looking woman trying to prop herself up on the couch to no avail. “Do you - have a bucket handy?” Sigh . Alara sprints to the buffet table near the front entrance and grabs one of the buckets they keep under it for overindulging guests - thrusting it in front of the woman’s face just in time - she retches the last of her stomach contents into it. Alara carefully arranges the bucket on the ground next to the couch when the stream subsides. I really should get an award for my charity.
Alara charges her voice with as much command as she can muster at this hour - “Ismene, you’re a mess.” She crosses her arms across her chest, tapping her nails against her robe. “Clean yourself up and go upstairs before someone with less patience comes looking for you.” And get out of my hair, I have business to attend to.
“Mmmmhm…” Ismene glances at the clock on the wall behind her, squinting like she's trying to bring the world back into focus. She looks back at Alara with an amused smirk. “Not ‘till you tell me why you’re here at this hour.” Great.
Alara averts her eyes - the way that woman stares right through her sometimes is unnerving. Ismene has always been a bit too astute with social cues for her taste, even in her drunken state. “I was taking a walk.”
She laughs - “You’re a bad liar.”
Alara scoffs - “And you’re a sloppy drunk.”
“You were ‘too busy’ for cocktails but not to sneak back in the dead of night - and you’re acting shifty. I have to ask.” Ismene pulls herself upright and flips her hair back out of her face. Alara scowls at her. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll tell Selica you came down to steal her morphling stash.” That makes her blood run cold - it’s not teasing, it’s a threat . The last time Selica caught someone stealing her morphling she’d poisoned him - not enough to kill him, but enough to cause permanent brain damage. It’s not something she’d like to invite upon herself - But what a way to call off an engagement.
“That’s a low blow - you know very well I only touch that garbage once a year -” Ismene shrugs at her. Calm down, let her have this one. Maybe she can be of use. “Ugh. Fine. Stand up, you can help me look for them.” Alara reaches out a hand to pull her up off the couch and they nearly stumble backwards into the table together. Ismene manages to right herself just in time.
“What are we looking for? I loooove a scavenger hunt.” She’s still slurring her words, but there’s an edge of excitement to them now. You love drama, is more like it.
“You know those tiny cameras - the ones we used to capture that sponsor dinner debacle last year?” Ismene nods, leaning on Alara for balance as they walk towards the supply room at the back of the studio. “I need to borrow one. Well, at least one - preferably several.”
“Ooooh - who are we spying on? Is it someone fun, at least?” Alara rolls her eyes, then punches in the door code.
“ We aren’t spying on anyone - I am working on something private. ” Ismene gives her a melodramatic pout in response. The supply room is packed with equipment, half of which she can’t identify - all of which seems to be thrown haphazardly wherever it fits. “Fuck - it’s going to take me hours to sort through this! Who organized this place?!”
“Hmmm…” Ismene still has that stupid smirk plastered across her face. “Perhaps if you were more forthcoming, I could tell you where they are.”
It takes every ounce of restraint Alara has left not to slap the smirk off her face. “Ismene - I just rescued you from a complete drunken disaster. Consider this payment.”
She shakes her head - “I take payment in information, you know that.” Alara does know that - and she hates it.
How to phrase this? She’ll smell a lie, but I can’t give her the whole truth. “I don’t want to bore you with all the details, but there’s this… woman… who I have an interest in -” Ismene cuts her off, releasing her grip on Alara to clap her hands together excitedly. She nearly falls into a rack of sound equipment but catches herself on the wall behind her.
“Why didn’t you just say so! I do love a love story - so you’re spying romantically then?” Ismene gasps, clasping a hand to her face. “Do you think she’s seeing someone else?” Idiot.
“No, I’m putting the cameras in my own quarters -” She tries to keep the frustration out of her words - Ismene cuts her off again.
“HA! So you’re making a sex tape? I didn’t know you had it in you!” She’s tempted to knock Ismene out for that one. Nothing so crass! I’m crafting a tasteful scandal - thank you - NOT pornography. A more thoughtful part of her intervenes - But… if that’ll get you on board…
Alara shrugs, then nods after a calculated pause for effect. Embarrassing, but necessary - The smile on Ismene’s face tells her she’s succeeded in sating her nosiness for now. “Look, I’ve explained enough. Are you going to help me find the cameras or not?”
Ismene latches herself back onto Alara for balance - “This way -” She drags her to a set of drawers at the far end of the room - running her fingers across the handles - she stops “They’re in this one. It has a chip on the handle.” I sometimes forget there’s a brain swimming in that wine-soaked skull of hers.
Alara opens the drawer - there’s an entire collection of the cameras inside, she slips three into the pocket of her robe. “Should I ask how you know about these?”
“I stole one to spy on my escort - I thought she’d been watering down my wine.” The two make their way back to the main studio floor.
“Was she? I’d have to have Orville killed if he touched my supply.” Alara drags her towards the elevator.
“No - but I did catch her in a very intimate state with a styling assistant near the bar. I’ve yet to bring the footage to Selica, but it should make for a good show next time we have a slow news day.” The elevator is still on the studio floor - no one else seems to be moving around tonight. Alara opens the doors and drags Ismene in with her, pushing the numbers for both their floors. “I should probably thank you for the rescue - I suppose I owe you one now.” More like several.
“If you never speak of tonight again - to anyone - I’ll consider the debt paid.” The elevator lurches upward and Alara has to lean the two of them against the wall to keep upright.
Ismene raises a hand to her heart dramatically “On my honor, I promise - it stays with us.” Alara sighs - not how I thought this adventure would go, but not a complete failure. As frivolous and weepy and self-serving as Ismene can be, she’s never actually betrayed Alara’s trust. At least, not after making a promise.
They ride the rest of the way to the District Five floor in silence. When the doors open, Alara helps her co-host lean into the corner to support herself - “Just stay there, it’s only three floors up - I’m sure you’ll manage.” She steps through the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow - bright and early!” Ismene winks at her as the doors clamp shut and the elevator rushes off once more. Gods help me, I think I might be going soft. The District Five suite is still blessedly silent - she glances down the hallway just to make sure Orville isn’t lurking somewhere trying to get an early start on the day. Nothing - no disturbances - perfect .
Alara heads to her private quarters, sneaking back through the door. Voltaea is still asleep - she’s shifted herself in bed so that she’s wrapped around one of the large pillows in the way she was Alara earlier. Aren’t you sweet, you missed my presence that much? She sees a datapad on the coffee table and grabs it to pair with the cameras. It takes her several minutes to figure out how that works, but she manages to get all three recording clearly.
The first goes right above the door - a high-angle view of the whole suite. She has to balance on her makeup stool to get the height she needs to plant it, but it provides just the right amount of distance for the tasteful sort of shot she’s imagining.
The second goes underneath the television, angled at the couch - no struggling with height here, but she has to fiddle with it to get the angle she wants without the tiny lens reflecting the lights and ruining the shot.
Alara makes her way to the bed, climbing up carefully to avoid waking her girl. Voltaea stirs slightly, muttering something under her breath again - What are you saying, darling? I’ll have to listen more closely next time. She adheres the camera to one of the bedposts - so long as she keeps the drapes open, it provides a perfect view of the whole space. She double-checks her work from the datapad - every important angle in the room is covered in detail, she won’t miss a thing. I’m sure you’ll give us the perfect opportunity to break ratings records with the way you’ve been behaving.
She steps off the bed, stashing the datapad in the top of her dresser next to her box of recreational substances - not really hidden , but out of sight enough that her girl probably won’t stumble across it. The tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying melts off of her like hot wax - the satisfaction of a victory - mission accomplished.
Alara takes the remaining spiked liquor from the nightstand and drains the rest herself - hoping the dose of sedatives is enough to drag her under. She slips into the bed, sliding herself into position next to Voltaea. In spite of the drugs - or perhaps because of them - her girl sleeps peacefully, blissfully unaware of all Alara has done tonight in the name of protecting her. She wraps herself over Voltaea, pulling her close - she stirs slightly, muttering. This time, she’s close enough to hear her clearly - “Alara…” - her own heart screams in response. She brushes her girl’s hair back out of her face to get a proper look at her, a smile playing at the corner of her lips - Do you dream of me now, darling?
She plants a soft kiss on Voltaea’s cheek and nestles her head into the pillows next to her. Her eyes flutter shut as her mind melts into a sedative haze. Alara savors the sensation of soft skin against her fingertips and silk sheets around her legs. The pillows smell like rose - the girl like sweat and perfumed desperation. It should overwhelm her, but it just feels… like home. I finally have someone that’s mine. It’s the last thought that comes to her before sleep overtakes consciousness.
The morning comes too quickly - it always does, doesn’t it? She wakes to the phone ringing by her bedside. Still struggling to break the grip of sleep, she pushes herself upright and grabs it from its holder. Her head throbs with each word she speaks - “You’ve reached Alara, I hope this is good news.”
It’s Orville on the other end - pure panic overtaking his normal composure - “Yes, ah. Well, how to put this -”
Alara sighs, frustrated - “Spit it out, I have too much to do today.”
“The girl isn’t in her room, I think... I think I’ve lost her! I don’t know where she could be, I didn’t see her leave the suite at all and I -” Alara cuts off his rambling.
Idiot. “She’s in here. With me.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line - “Oh. Ah…” Orville stammers for a moment, like he’s too stunned to say anything productive, then - “Could you pass along that I have her uniform for training today? And that breakfast will be served in thirty minutes.”
“Bring the clothes, we’ll be out for breakfast after she changes.” Alara hangs up, tossing the receiver back onto the charger. When she turns, Voltaea has rolled herself over to look at her - her steel-blue eyes glassy and bloodshot, hair tangled, her robe threatening to unravel in the front. She can’t help but smile - it’s precious - the way her girl is so comfortable in her own chaos around Alara.
“Good morning.” Voltaea’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse with sleep. Alara runs her nails through her hair - she sighs, leaning into the contact - “My head hurts. Do we have to get up?”
Alara leans in and plants a kiss on her forehead - “We do. It’s your first day of training, we’ll have to straighten you out before you face the others.”
Voltaea manages to muster a small smile for her - “Give me something to help?”
“Glad you’ve decided to embrace your advantages - I have just the thing.” Alara practically flies off the bed, scouring her top drawer for what she needs. Stimulant patch, migraine pills - she heads to the bathroom to pour a small glass of water from the sink. When she returns, Voltaea has managed to sit herself upright - she rubs at the space between her eyes in an effort to chase off the headache. Alara hands her the pills and the glass first - “This is for the pain.” She takes them - no questions this time - no hesitation. Good girl.
There’s a knock at the door - interrupting as always - “That’ll be Orville with your uniform, hang on darling.” She adjusts the belt holding her robe together as she walks to the door. Orville stands just outside, holding a neatly folded stack of clothes with a pair of coal-black running shoes and a familiar notepad balanced beneath them. He glances behind her and turns a violent shade of violet-red when he sees Voltaea sitting on her bed.
“I… ahem.” He clears his throat, straightening his back out in an unconvincing effort to feign confidence. “I had Claudius bring the notes she left on the train, those are here as well.” He shifts uncomfortably, trying to avoid looking at her girl behind her - but doesn’t leave. Oh stop pretending you’re so offended, it’s pathetic. She bites back the thought before it leaves her lips.
Alara scowls at him - she likes the way it makes him squirm. “Are you going to stand there all morning, or do you have something useful to be doing?”
Orville takes a deep breath - fidgeting - the boy is a ball of nerves right now. He tries to keep his voice steady when he speaks, but she can hear the fear in it - “Are you certain that this is an… appropriate sleeping arrangement for a tribute?” He flinches like he’s been slapped the second the words leave his mouth.
“Are you paid to pass judgement on my mentoring methods?” he opens his mouth like he wants to say something but Alara cuts him off - “No, you aren’t. Your job is to be personable with our sponsors and to do what I tell you.” Alara leans close, hissing into his ear in a tone low enough that her girl can’t hear - “I suggest you don’t overstep like this again - not if you value your position.” He doesn’t say anything, just nods - shaking. The round boy turns on his heels and departs back down the hallway as she closes the door behind him.
She carries the stack back to her girl, who looks… uncomfortable, all of the sudden. “What’s wrong, darling? You seem tense.” Alara leaves the pile at the foot of her bed and slides back under the sheets next to Voltaea.
“I shouldn’t have come here… I didn’t mean to cause trouble…” Her voice is low, quivering - she averts her eyes when she speaks - Alara tilts her face back towards her, gently.
“Stop. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She kisses her softly - the tension in her girl’s body seems to dissipate the second their lips meet. Alara pulls back before she has a chance to deepen it - “No one is getting in any trouble here - it’s just Orville being nosy, he won’t say a word. The boy values his status too much to throw it away on a hunch.” She smooths her girl’s hair back so she can look into her eyes unabated, dropping her voice to a sultry whisper - “Nothing that happens between us is anyone’s business but ours.” She feels her stomach churn at the lie - it’s strange. Lying usually comes so naturally. She tries to coach herself through the feeling - It’s necessary . If I don’t claim you, someone else will. Nothing that happens in the Capitol happens without someone watching, better that we control when they see us.
Voltaea nods - “Okay.” she rolls to her side and buries her face into Alara’s neck.
“Don’t get too comfortable, darling - we have work to do.” Alara takes the stimulant patch from her pocket, carefully placing it on her girl’s back in a way that it won’t be visible beneath her uniform. She allows herself to lie there for a while, basking in the last few minutes of comfort they’ll have together until tonight. Her fingertips trace Voltaea’s pulse point as she feels her heart rate rise in response to the patch.
Voltaea finally raises her head, eyes wide, pupils dilated - a huge grin spreads across her face - Alara’s own heart races in response. When her girl finally speaks, it’s sparkling with confidence - “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”