vi. sirens song
"IF I'M NOT drunk enough to strip for Snow by the end of the night, I'm killing myself."
Aphrodite huffs. "This is why mom hates you."
Icarus shrugs. "It's not like she loves you, either."
Aphrodite hits him.
"Can you two try not to stress me out for one night?" Clarence demands, high-strung and anxious. "Seriously. I'm going to get wrinkles because of your behavioral issues!"
Icarus gives a mocking gasp. "Oh, no, not wrinkles! The horror!"
"I'd kill myself if I had wrinkles," says Aphrodite solemnly.
"Stay calm. Stay calm. Breathe in, one. . . two. . . three. . . Breathe out. . . one. . . two. . . three. . . " Clarence closes his eyes and inhales deeply. "Just like your therapist taught you, Clarence. You can do this. It's one night."
Icarus mouths FRANK and points to the vein on Clarence's forehead while his eyes are closed.
"No PR nightmares," Clarence snaps, opening his eyes. "For one night. Please."
Then they're exiting the limo, escorted right to the grand entrance of the Presidential Palace. Cameras are flashing in the vivid darkness. It's blinding. People again are shrieking in adoration. One woman is actually sobbing.
Aphrodite takes each step towards the grand entrance slowly, careful to keep her skirt from getting caught in her glittering stilettos, their tapered heels producing a click clack against the tile, signaling to everyone that the Capitol's darling has arrived. Clarence has got her in this embroidered gold two-piece encrusted with jewels and it makes her look as if she's been swimming in gold.
Icarus is in pajamas.
He seems to fail to grasp the notion that pretty hursts. Aphrodite is painfully aware ━━ jewels dig into her skin ━━ but the pay off is irresistible. She'd rather suffer than be ugly.
Maintaining her swoon-worthy smile, she keeps her shoulders relaxed, back straight, jaw loose. They are led across a red carpet as fans scream for them on either side. When they sway through the open doors, it takes everything in her not to let her jaw drop. The overwhelming consensus is expensive. The drapes, the walls, even the crystalline chandelier look like they'd cost more money than District Two has ever made. Light and luxury dance together in dizzying sequences.
About halfway between the floor and ceiling, musicians float on what look like fluffy white clouds, but Aphrodite can't see what holds them aloft. Dining tables are elaborately set everywhere. Some surrounding fireplaces, other beside fragrant flower gardens or ponds filled with exotic fish, Aphrodite guesses so people can eat and drink and do whatever they please.
Everything is gaudy and expensive. Aphrodite loves it.
Faces appear, names are exchanged, pictures taken, kisses brushed on cheeks. Clarence is overjoyed to introduce Aphrodite to his dear friend, Effie Trinket.
"You are an absolute inspiration!" Effie gushes. She's practically in tears. "I saw how you fell off that cliff while I was getting my eyebrows dyed, and when my stylist messed them up, you made me feel brave enough to tell her."
What. The. Fuck.
"Uh. . . wow. . . !" says Aphrodite with the biggest smile she can muster.
Internally, she's thinking, This lady is fucking crazy.
Call her dramatic, but it's survival of the fittest from here on out when you're the Capitol's Darling. Everyone wants to talk to you. Everyone wants to kiss you, kill you, or be you. Which is a little exhausting.
Well. It's not falling off a cliff.
So at least there's that.
All the while, a single question burns like acid in the back of Aphrodite's throat. She cannot forget what she saw on the tapes yesterday. Romulus had sacrificed himself for her without her even knowing.
Icarus would know why. He was friends with Romulus.
But she takes one look at her older brother, and she decides it's better not to ask.
After about 3 minutes of this night, Icarus is annoyed. After 30 minutes, he looks like he might kill someone. He's got a pack of smokes in his pocket, but that doesn't seem to be enough. Not tonight.
"I need drugs," he snaps when someone bumps into him. "Fuck — "
"Do my eyes deceive me? Did the Capitol's favorite junkie actually make an appearance?"
Icarus grins. "Oh, thank fucking god. Finally."
When Aphrodite turns her head, Finnick Odair's famous glittering green eyes are only inches from her own. They are liquid, soft, light, incandescent, the color of sea foam.
"Finnick, this is my annoying little sister," Icarus introduces her carelessly. "Aphrodite, this is my friend, Finnick."
Finnick Odair. Somewhat of a living legend in Panem. Since he won the 65th Hunger Games at 14, he's still one of the youngest Victors. Being from District 4, he's a Career, so the odds already were in his favor, but what had really sealed the deal for him is his extraordinary beauty.
He stands there now, like something out of a dream. The sun seems to glow from straight inside his chest. Perfectly tousled blonde curls crown his bronzed face, his smirk a crooked flash of lightning. District 4's symbolized by water; Finnick certainly is an ode to the ocean, with his shifting hands and eyes the color of sea foam.
"Don't worry," adds Icarus. "You'll never get used to the nudity."
He says this mainly because Finnick's outfit consists solely of silk black pants. No shirt. His abs are so intense that they could probably win their own Hunger Games.
Finnick wets his lips ever so slightly with just his tongue as his sensual eyes drink her in. "You are absolutely breathtaking."
Icarus snickers.
Aphrodite could laugh, too. No way this golden sex symbol is about to make her lose her cool girl attitude.
Instead, she tosses a sheet of glossy black hair over her shoulder and smiles. "I know."
"Don't embarrass yourself, fish-face." Icarus claps Finnick on the shoulder. "Aphrodite's not somebody you want to get involved with."
"Why?" Finnick seems amused. "Because you'll hurt me?"
"What? No, I wouldn't care." Icarus shakes his head. "She'll kill you. Aphrodite is her mother's daughter."
"Ah," Finnick seems to get it now. "Nasty piece of work, that woman."
Aphrodite tries not to grin. Finnick is absolutely everything her mom would hate.
"I am my mother's daughter," she agrees loftily.
"What about Twelve?" Icarus is craning his neck to search the crowd. "Is he here?"
"Yeah, yeah, he's just grabbing a bite with Snow." Finnick makes a show of rolling his ocean eyes. "Icarus, what the fuck would Haymitch be doing here?"
"Saving me from boredom?" Icarus demands. He rakes a frustrated hand through his disheveled black curls. "OK, here's the plan. I'm going to find drugs, do something stupid, and then black out. Nobody stop me and, in the morning, nobody tell me what I did, OK?"
Before either of them can stop him, he's disappearing into the crowd.
Ugh.
Sometimes Aphrodite really hates her brother.
Heart racing, Aphrodite accepts a flute of sparkling water from an oncoming waiter. She doesn't really want to get drunk. But without Icarus and without Clarence, she isn't sure what to do. Enough aimless wandering and she would start to look, well, clueless.
Then she realizes Finnick is still with her.
She arches a perfectly manicured brow. "Drugs not really your thing?"
Because shouldn't he be hanging out with with her brother, if their friends? But of course Finnick Odair isn't ━━ he's just annoying. Aphrodite has the answers to all of her own questions.
"I tend to lose myself in. . . " he takes the collar of her outfit and runs it between his fingers. "More. . . sensual ways."
17 year old boys are disgusting.
Now Aphrodite's reminded of the rest of his reputation. The citizens of the Capitol have been drooling over him for years. Ever since he turned 16 last year, he's spent his time at the Games being dogged by those desperately in love with him. No one retains his favor for very long. He can go through 4 or 5 in his annual visit. Old or young, rich or very rich, he'll keep them company and take their extravagant gifts, but he never stays, and once he's gone he never comes back.
Aphrodite considers reminding him what she did to his tributes. He must've mentored them. But Finnick doesn't seem the least bit concerned.
This boy is giving making the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. Brushing a silken strand of hair from her face, Aphrodite's eyes rake him up and down snootily. Finnick smiles. How? She's baffled. She's trying desperately hard to be a bitch, but it doesn't seem to be having the desired affect.
"What are you doing?" She asks, a little rudely. Whatever.
Shrugging, Finnick's eyes drift out to the party around them, then finally land back upon her. His ocean eyes are flickering, lips rolled together, crushing up as if he's trying very hard not to smile. Trying very hard not to be looking only at her. Which is frustrating ━━ she's not used to people's attention not being solely focused on her.
"Talking to a friend," he says finally. "You?"
He tilts his head in, so their lips are almost in contact. Ew, ew, ew!
Aphrodite is scandalized.
Absolutely not!
"Yeah, no," she says, very rudely this time. "I don't do friends."
"Really?" Finnick's grin only broadens. "Gotta say, sweetheart, this is moving a little fast, but if that's what you want, I'm game."
Sweetheart? That rubs her the wrong way. Shuddering at the intention, she almost wishes they were back in the arena. Then at least she'd be able to, like, stab him.
Scowling now, she says, "Shouldn't you be, I don't know, like, fucking off or something?"
"Or something." His smirk is like a crescent wave against his skin. "You swear, too? You're even worse than they say you are, Krasnova."
OK, if he's not going to leave, then she will. This is becoming outrageous. She's got better and more productive ways to spend her time at this party than conversing with this. . . this scandal waiting to happen. Even she can't argue that he's one of the most stunning, sensuous people in all of Panem. But they're in public and he's way too friendly for someone she just met ━━ if people see them together, Aphrodite would be lucky if they just assumed they're just friends.
Friends. Ew! Aphrodite does not have friends. Why'd she have to think that word? That's disgusting. Horrifying. Way out of the realm of possibility.
Whirling around, she starts to stomp off, desperate for a knight in shining armor.
Unfortunately, there is no light at the end of this tunnel. Everyone is staring at her; people brush up against her, trying to snag her attention, everyone wants to speak to her. Whereas it had been charming earlier, it's not anymore. A sweat breaks out upon her palms. All the attention is dizzying. Someone shouts at her that she's their icon. With no chance of escape, Aphrodite makes a beeline for a bar in the center of the floor, occupied by rich-looking people who take small sips of tan liquor and chat about more emotionless things, like lunch plans with associates they do not like but they simply must spend time with, for the sake of their own reputation. A clearly drunk woman is babbling on and on and on about how she'd been asleep during the bloodbath and she's just so sad she didn't get to see it live.
Aphrodite takes a seat at one of the stools at the far end and a bartender hands her a flute of water with lemon.
Frantically, she scours the crowd. Icarus has completely disappeared. Clarence, too, is nowhere to be found. On top of that, the only Victor amongst the throngs of Capitolites seems to be Finnick, which really doesn't do anything for her emotional state.
A voice that she's never heard before shatters her reverie. "I do love a damsel in distress."
Blinking, Aphrodite turns slowly, meeting the rakish eyes of an older man. Unhindered by his age, there is a saunter heavy in his step, and he thrusts his glass to be refilled with whatever dark brown liquid towards the bartender as he finds a spot right beside Aphrodite.
Hell no, she thinks to herself.
But her mom will have a fit if she's caught snapping at people in the Capitol. Aphrodite musters the most graceful smile that she can.
"I assume you've seen me in action," she says, eyes glittering. "You know I'm no damsel."
"I don't mind role play," is his charming response. "No need to introduce yourself, I know who you are, of course, darling Aphrodite. My name is Craven."
He takes her hand then, pressing a kiss upon it. Aphrodite fights to keep herself from shaking and holds her head high.
"Forgive me," she says. "I've never been to a party quite like this before."
"Ah," he peers down at her with amusement. "I must say, when you get to be as old as me, they all tend to blur together. Of course, I go to quite a few, I am our beloved President's advisor."
He puffs out his chest quite importantly.
Internally, Aphrodite wilts. If he's Snow's advisor, she truly needs to watch herself.
"You seem so young to be so. . . capable. . . " his eyes rake her. "You fought so beautifully in your games."
She tries not to grit her teeth. "I'm fifteen."
His arm snakes tightly around her hips. "I never would have guessed. How is this possible?"
"I was born fifteen years ago," she says flatly.
"And you're funny, too," his eyes gleam. Craven's interests only seem to grow. "My, my, your charm is extraordinary."
The implications behind the word charm are enough to make her murderous. She restrains herself. Where is Clarence? Or her idiot brother, Icarus? Aren't either of them going to help her?
His hand dips dangerously low on her backside. "I must ask, darling, what is your wish for tonight? I am hoping it is the same as mine — "
"Oh, this is so awkward!"
Another voice breaks in, one that Aphrodite had originally hoped to never hear again.
"I think we might've had the same wish," Finnick announces. Gone is the mischief and humor from his ocean eyes. Now they are dark and dangerous. "You see, sir, Aphrodite promised me a dance."
Craven's mouth thins. "Did she, now?"
Finnick shrugs helplessly. "Awkward, I know. But my hands are tied. A promise is a promise."
Aphrodite's eyes narrow. But Finnick doesn't offer her any room to call him a liar; he seizes her by the arm, pulling her in towards his chest with a startling fluidity.
Craven's last shout, I am sure we will meet again! is drowned by the chaos of the party as Finnick whisks her away. The damsel is no more!
Only Aphrodite doesn't want to dance with Finnick Odair. She doesn't want to feel his hands, one resting against hers, one on her hip. She's not used to being touched, Icarus is an idiot and, well, you've seen her mom in action. But Finnick seems to sense this and holds her almost at arm's length as they turn on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Aphrodite hisses, trying to wrench herself from Finnick's grasp.
He twirls her around, his own jaw clenched. "What am I doing? What the hell are you doing?"
"I was handling that."
Finnick laughs coldly. All his amusement from earlier in the evening has evaporated like water. "You don't get it, do you? The Capitol's been trying to present you as a prize."
"So this is my fault?" Aphrodite demands. She can't believe this boy. "For looking like this and being attractive to everyone — "
"Get over yourself!" Finnick snaps with uncharacteristic harshness. "Do you know what happens when a Victor becomes desirable?"
She's annoyed, now. "They get whatever they want. Jewels, money, anything."
Just then, someone shouts. People look horrified as they scramble back, parting as a clearly drunken silhouette staggers between them. Aphrodite bites her tongue until she tastes blood.
It's Icarus.
"Fatass!" He crows excitedly. "Finnick! You'll never believe what's happened to me!"
"Drugs?" Finnick asks.
"Drugs!" Icarus smiles like a little kid.
And then he throws up.
On Aphrodite.
"Icarus!" She shrieks, disgusted. She's sopping with vomit, hot and chunky and wet, and her golden dress that she once thought so wonderful is now ruined.
Icarus burps and mumbles something unintelligible.
"Everything all right?" Finnick claps Icarus on the back jovially enough. "Let's get out of here, man. Nice and slow. We'll take it easy, OK?"
Frowning, Icarus sways. "Wanna. . . wanna. . . party."
Humiliated, Aphrodite starts to wish she were anywhere but here. They're at this party in her honor and the most interesting thing that happened this evening was her dress. Now it's ruined, just like the rest of this night.
People are staring at them, and not in a good way. Her eyes burn.
"I know, I know," says Finnick sympathetically. "We're just gonna take a break. Your sister keeps stepping on my toes and now my feet hurt. You think you can help me find a quiet place to sit down?"
Icarus is unable to answer. Mainly because it's then that he collapses.
Aphrodite shrieks again. "Icarus!"
"He's fine, he's fine." Finnick is quick to kneel beside him, checking his pulse. "This happens all the time. We've just got to get him out of here."
Anguished and unsure, Aphrodite starts to help Icarus up. He's completely unconscious. The blinding chandelier illuminates his waxen face. Lifeless. Limp. He feels more corpse than real, and it takes all her strength to lift him.
When Finnick tries to help, she lurches away.
"He's my brother," she snaps, trying not to burst into tears. "I can carry him."
Finnick backs off without question. "Follow me."
He guides them through serpentine corridors twisting deeper and deeper into the heart of the wicked mansion. The further they stray from the light, the more sinful the revelries become. Gone is the light airy music and tables upon tables of elaborately decorated cakes. Debauchery and excessive indulgence in pleasure seems to be the theme and they pass by a man groping another man harshly. From further away, there are incessant growls of demeaning remarks like fucking whore.
Finally, they come upon an elaborate tapestry and Finnick reveals a hidden door. They climb a staircase and then they are brought upon a lavish suite.
"Lay him on the bed," Finnick orders. He disappears into the bathroom and Aphrodite hears a shower start.
Icarus hardly stirs as she drops him onto the bed. Chunks of whatever he'd eaten for dinner stain the corners of his ruby mouth. He drools a little.
"I hate you," Aphrodite hisses at him. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."
God, siblings are so stupid. Stupid, broken, whatever. Icarus is shaking fists and trembling teeth. Aphrodite knows: He doesn't mean to be so fucked up. That doesn't make it any better.
Finnick reappears and she sheds her misery like a snake sheds it's skin. She is a Krasnova. She will not cry. Not here, not now.
"I can help get him in the shower," he says. "He'll be fine for now. But he's in for a nasty surprise when he wakes up."
He speaks so calmly, like this is routine, and it's disturbing. Aphrodite hopes this isn't normal for her brother.
"How did you know about this room?" Aphrodite asks.
"I spend most of my time in the Capitol," Finnick says quietly. "Not much left for me in Four."
He doesn't elaborate. She doesn't ask.
"Why are you helping us?" She asks tiredly.
He blinks, as if startled she'd asked. "Icarus is a good friend."
Aphrodite didn't even know Icarus had friends anymore. She looks at Finnick and tries to see what her brother sees, but she honestly can't. Maybe it's that Finnick is too pretty, or maybe he's too easy to get, or maybe it's really that he'd just be too easy to lose.
"You should probably shower, too," Finnick suggests. He waggles his brows a little. "I do consider myself a charitable person, so feel free to request assistance."
Him waggling his brows while she's covered in her brother's vomit is so absurd that she almost laughs. Almost.
"You're a little pervert," she says.
"Little?" Finnick looks offended. "I'll have you know I am not little, sweetheart. I measure in at exactly six feet and — "
" — and I don't care," she says with a resounding scoff.
"Oh, wow," he holds a hand to his heart. "That really hurt my feelings."
"Whatever." She's frustrated and covered with throw up. "Listen, we're good here, OK? So, like, go back to the party, do your thing, I really don't care. I can take care of my brother."
He's still for a second. "Ouch."
Whatever. Aphrodite's not her brother. She doesn't do friends. She certainly doesn't do friends when they're scandalous victors who could ruin her reputation. Or, even worse, ruin her families reputation.
Finnick starts for the staircase. "I'll send Clarence up if I see him. You want the lights on or off, honey?"
"On!" Aphrodite stiffens. "Keep them on. Please."
If Finnick is startled by her desperation, he doesn't show it. Only disappears down the staircase. The last thing she hears from him is when he yells;
"If you need help, you'll know where to find me! I only want to be your friend, Princess!"
The door closes and then he's gone.
Finnick Odair is so weird. Aphrodite doesn't know why he enjoys tormenting her, and she doesn't want to. She's not playing his games.
Icarus starts to cough and she pushes him onto his side. Isn't it a thing where drunk people choke to death on their own vomit? She feels like she heard that somewhere. Regardless, she's going to keep Icarus alive, so she pushes him onto his side just in case.
"Romulus. . . " Icarus groans, eyes still shut. He tosses and turns painfully. "Romulus. . . please. . . don't. . . no!"
When the morning comes, Aphrodite won't ask him about Romulus. She knows better. And, even if she were brave enough to, she knows that Icarus wouldn't answer.
That's just the way they are.
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
thoughts??
icarus and aphrodite r a little based off zuko and azula, idk if y'all can tell.
the thing w icarus is, he used to be their moms favorite, back in the day. he volunteered for his games because he thought that would make her happy but he came back all fucked up inside and now their mom doesn't like him. and she j doesn't like aphrodite LMAO.
also i LOVE the way finnick and aphrodite interact. it's giving jily. it's giving sokka x azula (not that i necessarily ship that, but for those that do).
anyway, here's what i pictured aphrodite to be wearing :))
3.8k words