thecapitol | I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity, who uses a machete to cut through red tape.

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I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity, who uses a machete to cut through red tape.

Who: Azula, Open to All
What: Just another day at the spa, because you deserve it.
Where: The New Image Day Spa.
When: After the Mini Arena.

In truth Azula suspected she spent far too much time at the Spa. But once a week was reasonable for someone who lived such a stressful life wasn't it?

Her favorite spa was always ready for her, always acted with absolute professionalism. She felt like royalty as she breezed through the doors and the greeters bowed politely taking her coat and guiding her immediately deeper into the building.

In a fit of charity, and a desire to connect deeper with her tributes she's invited a few to join her but she's not sure if or when they'll show up. For now she allows the staff to lead her from one room to the next, full body massage, seaweed wrap, and a trip to the open air mineral water hot springs to completely relax the body and pull out all the toxins and stress that built up in any busy persons life.

After the soak in the hot spring would begin the building up process again. Manicures and painting, hair styling and make up all to make sure that when you left the building you were stunning and beautiful. Depending on how you were dressed you might be ready for a night on the town (Presuming you had your curfew pass)

Today though Azula's plans were entirely focused on the spa and then returning to the tribute center. No more work outs, no more parties. She had to re-evaluate her plans. Things weren't progressing very much at all and it was starting to bother her. Her tributes had seemed to peek in both skill and ambition. Financial donors were getting bored and worst of all? She had joined the resistance months ago and hadn't come upon anything of use she could turn into an offering for them to prove her loyalty.

She was dedicated to the cause of changing the Capitol, she just didn't have a clue how to do it.

This would be an excellent place to think, she was sure of it.

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Sam has... actually had a spa day or two before. Once with his sister, once with a girlfriend, and while it isn't necessarily something he'd do on his own, it wasn't something he disliked, exactly. And Azula had invited him, so, well, here he was.

Kind of like drinking tea with Porrim, except with her it was flirting and image, and with Azula it was skills training and work outs.

He's not sure about anything else, but he does agree readily to the open air hot springs, and heads in to find Azula already there.

"So this is where you spend your free time?"

Azula couldn't help but smirk at Sam's arrival. He was a promising new recruit with alot of talent and charm. She felt like luck had finally come back around to her with him in her district.

"We live in stressful times. And keeping myself relaxed is very important to my duties as well so I do make sure to frequent here at least once a week. They're the best at what they do."

The hot spring was one of the few examples of water that didn't set her anxiety over the edge. Hydrophobia could be a particularly troublesome weakness but Azula had been to the spa often enough she knew she was safe here.

"What do you usually do to relax?"

“Makes you smarter than some I know. Lot of people don’t seem to get that taking time off every once in a while makes you a lot better at what you do in the long run.” Or, you know, pretty much everyone he knew. Himself included, once upon a time.

He pauses to settle himself down in the water before answering her question. It’s an easy one, fortunately, since most of his hobbies had been picked up specifically to make himself relax, to give him something to do when he didn’t want to do anything.

“I go running, listen to music. Cook, which you might have noticed.” He says that last one with a bit of a grin, because he has been in the kitchen an awful lot since the curfew. There’s a pause, as he considers leaving it there, but then goes for full honesty and adds, “I used to work with birds, helping to rehabilitate them.”

"I had a very good therapist." She commented off handedly and then allowed him to continue on. It took her a long time to appreciate just how much she needed her time to relax if she wanted to keep from having another unfortunate episode.

She nods at his list watching him casually like a lioness overseeing her pride as they lounged in the heat.

"That's unique." She noted at the last part. "What drew you to helping birds?"

She'd never given much thought to birds outside of the tactical advantages they provided with flight. To her birds were either food or another tool the Capitol had to torment them.

Except of course the mockingjay.

Off-handed comment or not, his surprise when she says that is probably pretty obvious. She’s a mentor, and he knows that means she survived an arena of her own, it’s just - unexpected, that she actually got help after it. It’s the first time he’s heard anyone here mention therapists, despite the fact that the vast majority of them are probably going to need a good one, when they get out of here.

Still, he continues on, answering her follow up question.

“The first time, I needed volunteer experience, and well, I’ve just always liked birds. Especially raptors. I hated seeing them stuck on the ground or in cages." And he's had plenty of time to read way too much into that, given that he went around going by the call-sign of Falcon and is now just as grounded.

"The second time-” He pauses briefly to quirk a little smile. “I had a good therapist, too.”

The curl at the corner of her lips is small, but noticeable.

"As your mentor I advise you to be wary of birds in the arena. The Capitol has found some creatively terrible ways to weaponize the creatures. However I can see where you would take pity on them for losing their freedom." After all hadn't she felt equally constrained by the walls of her district and the Asylum? Even now the Capitol seemed too small for her liking...though that might be the effects of the mandatory curfew.

"It took me a long time to even admit to myself there was no shame in therapy. I don't have one any longer and I'm not entirely sure I would trust one from the Capitol." She added the last part under her breath.

"The only other supposed therapist I've heard of is that lunatic mentor from District Nine. She once used her training to drive another tribute into a homicidal madness."

It was strange perhaps how easily Azula could transition from perfectly safe conversation into her job and the associated violence of it. But she couldn't help herself at times.

His smile turns wry. “Trust me, I’m going to be wary of pretty much everything in the arena.” And it doesn’t surprise him at all, to hear that about the Capitol.

“Yeah. Same here.” To all of that, actually - he’d still had one back home, though he didn’t see her very much anymore, but he sure as hell wouldn’t trust one from the Capitol. Especially not after hearing what their solution to speech therapy was from Initiate.

But then he sits up a little when he hears that, his jaw tightening with an almost audible click. “...she what?” He hadn’t even known there were any Tributes - or former Tributes - that called themselves a therapist here, but if that is what she’s doing with it, then maybe that’s a good thing. Sam’s not sure he could be responsible for his actions.

She noticed his tension, how could she not?

"The tribute is gone now but he was going through a particularly rough patch of self loathing and depression. Harleen Quinnzel was a tribute at the time in his district and when she found him she sat him down, talked to him and...well something snapped. The next arena he was a cold and ruthless killer. Unrepentant and emotionless. So much so he even sliced her in half after the two of them had cut a bloody path through the arena together."

It might actually prove useful to motivate him with a story of how cruel some people could be...or perhaps even stirring up some drama because Quinnzel made herself such a public figure at parties.

There’s nothing about that story that doesn’t piss him the hell off, but he makes a conscious effort to relax back into the water.

“...if I needed another reason to be glad you’re my mentor, I’ve got it now.” He doubts he could even pretend to work with Quinnzel if he’d known about that, or if she’d tried any of it on him.

Really, for as much choice as Sam has in the matter, he’s just lucky he ended up with someone he doesn’t have to pretend to be willing to work with.

She chuckled deciding to appreciate the compliment even if it wasn't much of one. After all setting a bar as low as Harley Quinn was hardly an accomplishment to step over.

"Just be wary of any tributes from District Nine. Between Quinn and the girl Mindy they are hardly well adjusted. And before those two fools it was a woman named Eva who was cold, ruthless and reclusive. I actually respected her until she lost her sense and lashed out at the Capitol. You can imagine what happened then...or pull up the news reports I suppose."

Was it any wonder that District Nine was usually a mess?

His eyes sharpen a little, when he hears District Nine. That’s Steve’s district. Sam wouldn’t want Steve anywhere near someone like that, and that’s supposed to be his mentor? Shit, Sam is definitely going to have to talk to him, see what he thinks of her.

All he says out loud, though, is, “I’ll remember that. And yeah, I can guess. Someone making a target of themselves like that never seems to work out all that well, here.”

It’s another reason why he’s doing this, pretending to play their game.

"As proven by the particularly brutal opening to the "Mall Arena." When Mr. Rodgers opted for that particularly moving speech of his." Azula agreed deciding to test the waters on this next subject.

She didn't know what Sam's connection was to Steve exactly, but she'd seen enough of them spending time together in the Capitol and the gossip rags had caught a few pictures. She had to find out one way or another.

Oh, there is no way that comment isn’t meant to see what kind of reaction it gets out of him. If it wasn’t Azula, and if Sam hadn’t already heard about that, he might be a little pissed. But it is, and he has, so he just raises an eyebrow at her to let her know that he sees what she’s doing.

“If Rogers is giving a speech, it’s usually something that needs to be said. Sometimes, people don’t like what that is, but their reaction to it is on them, not him.” Then he gives a little one-shouldered shrug. “But I never said he couldn’t be good at making himself a target.”

Especially if doing so meant taking a target off others. It’s one of the many reasons why Sam’s so damn determined to keep an eye on him.

Ah good he caught on. Knowing that Sam is every bit as perceptive as she was hoping is a comforting feeling.

"It did seem to work out that way. I was surprised they brought him back after that arena. But I suppose when you've got someone with such...stage presence, you make the most of them."

She expected thanks to that stunt Steve would be in the games for a good long while suffering for it.

"Well spoken though. Do they teach public speaking commonly in your world or is he just a natural?"

The water steamed around them and she gestured to one of the servants for a refill, stretching her arms above her head letting her muscles unwind. This was nice. She really ought to have more of her tributes join her for these chats.

It unsettles him a little, every time people bring up that the Capitol might just not bring someone back, after the arenas. He still hasn't quite come to terms with the whole 'coming back from the dead' thing, he doesn't like trying to add 'but only if the Capitol wants' on top of that.

He doesn't let any of that show, though, just shrugs and quirks a little smile at her question. "Oh, we got loads of public speaking classes, but I doubt he ever took any of them. That's just Rogers."

"To the great orator then." She raises her drink half an inch in a tiny toast. "May he prove an inspiration to all who hear him for better or worse."

If the Capitol has anything to say about it, worse.

"If I'm entirely candid with you, and I strive to be more straight forward with my tributes these days. If I am honest I've always wanted to inspire others with my deeds. When I was young I was taught that being in the games was a great honor and would bring pride and respect to my family. That the entire district would honor me for what I've done for them."

It is painfully clear from the tone in her voice that this was not how things turned out, but she does not elaborate.

"When I returned to work as a mentor I found it was difficult to inspire the tributes into anything but disdain and irritation. I was just getting in their way the more I tried to enforce my influence over them. So for a man like that to simply stroll in and captivate a room full of strangers? It's a impressive power in it's own right."

A power she craves. A power even the Capitol seems to respect the way they tried to break his spirits.

Sam considers all of that for a long moment.

"Maybe it's because you tried to enforce your influence over them." When Steve talks, at least from what Sam's heard - he never tries to make you do anything. He tells you what he's going to do, he tells you why he thinks it's right, but he leaves the decision up to you.

"I listened to you because you didn't bullshit me, you know? You've got your own motivations for doing what you do, and maybe you're not going to let me in on all of them, but the ones you did, well, they align with mine." He grins a little. "And you sounded like you knew what you were talking about, I'd be stupid not to take that into account."

She listened thoughtfully and cast a wary gaze at her own reflection in the water. She had...problems with reflections when she was off her medication. They had a tendency to inspire hallucinations and other unpleasant sensations. Just to be safe she dipped her fingertips in the water to cause ripples breaking up the image.

"Well to be fair, I've never credited out tributes for an abundance of common sense. Intelligence yes but stubborn. Especially Shepard. If you would believe it she sought to blackmail me the very first time we met. And all she wanted was for me to do exactly what I was already intending on doing. Procuring sponsorship for her and those that would aid her."

In all honesty she had only intended on supporting Shepard but if feeding her friends is what bought Shepard's loyalty it was a small price to pay.

By the time Venus joins Azula, the spa staff have already fluffed and massaged her in more ways than Venus even knew possible - which is, she thinks, quite impressive. She had been a Hollywood starlet for a year before arriving here; it wasn't as if she had spent her adult years deprived of opulent indulgences. And yet even the 'prep' here has left her skin soft a little raw, her hair stripped of its natural oils, her shoulders like amniotic fluid.

She's more than a little relieved that the spa has respected her request not to be catered to by Avoxes.

She slips into a long chair next to Azula, wrapped in a plush, fluffy robe that she's sure has never touched another human body. One of the spa staff brings her a glass of ice-cold water.

"Heya, Mentor." The glass of water is so cold it's nearly painful to touch, compared to the warm air around her. "Relaxed yet?"

"Very much so." Azula's voice is level and mellow, a state of relaxation usually only found accompanied by copious amounts of medical or alcoholic aid. Her eyes are hidden by a pair of cucumber slices which she has been assured is good for the bags that one develops under their eyes when they have trouble sleeping.

Thankfully Azula has been sleeping well lately for a number of reasons.

"I'm glad you came. I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. Some people just don't know how to let themselves be pampered." For example she couldn't imagine Shepard had ever set foot inside a spa except perhaps to shoot everyone inside it.

"I know you don't know what Hollywood is, but I'm basically a pro at going to spas." A long time ago she got over that feeling of being an intruder who wandered into a rich person's world by accident. Everything about the X-Statix was at the far end of a spectrum; extreme danger and extreme pampering.

She settles down and bundles up in her robe. "Oh, my God. It feels like they made this thing out of skinned kittens." Not that she would put that past the Capitol.

It was enough to make Azula laugh softly though.

"From what I gather, our technological advances in just about every field including fabric. It's pricey of course but considering everything we have to deal with I think we deserve this sort of comfort."

Of course as far as Azula was concerned she always deserved more then she got.

"Hollywood sounds nice if you can be a professional spa goer." She added with a chuckle.

"Well, it's work, too. The trade-off is that you probably die young, at least in my line of Hollywood work." She shrugs. "So basically it's like here."

And given that they both need medicine to keep from going entirely out of their heads, that doesn't seem to have worked out too well for them.

"So. Thoughts on the new Escort?"

"For some of us at least. The best of us last a little longer." She commented with no lack of pride.

She looked thoughtful and took a moment to reach for a bowl of fresh assorted berries taking one for herself and then offering the bowl to Venus.

"She's very professional. Ambitious and driven. All things I admire in a woman." She explained. "But sometimes it can be hard to find someone who takes things seriously around here. If they are raised in the Capitol they tend to drift through life with ease."

"It's almost like they never had to work for anything." Venus raises an eyebrow and snorts a tiny bit, taking a handful of berries but putting them in her mouth only one at a time. Sometimes she forgets that Azula isn't really of the Capitol. They have that in common, despite every other difference.

"Back in my world, some of our biggest stars died before they had a chance to wreck their reputations. I always imagined I'd be one of them."

It struck Azula as a little tragic that someone would actually look forward to dying, but on the flip side...

"It's a little romanticized to think of going out on top. After all it sounds nice to consider never having to experience fading away."

It was a feeling she was intimately familiar with. For years she had been just a memory for people. Locked away in some hospital while the world moved on without her barely noticing her passing.

"Some say it's more about the people you touch or what you leave behind. If you had to leave one final message to represent yourself before you become another statistic?"

"Better to burn out than fade away. Pretty sure that's a Nirvana lyric where I'm from. Or Foo Fighters. I don't know. I'm not big on rock." Venus stretches out her legs on the beach chair. A staff member comes over with shaving cream that feels like being surrounded by clouds and smells like ambrosia.

"If I had to leave a message?" She wasn't expecting such a hard-hitting question, even though she's long learned that Azula has more going on in her mind that she projects. Venus just knows it's not appropriate for anywhere the Capitol can hear her. "I don't know. Maybe 'try not to kill your parents', losers."

"Hmm." She made a noncommittal sort of sound with her lips and she smirked closing her eyes.

"Not as easy as it sounds I'm sure. I think in my case I might want the world to hold itself to a higher standard. To push and work harder, and to earn the pleasures that should come with such achievements."

A world of fair and just rewards. Where those who earned their pleasures enjoyed them and those who didn't faded away.

"Life isn't fair, but it should be." She added. "And it's up to the best of us to make those changes."

Of course Azula's idea of what is and isn't fair is slightly skewed in favor of the strong devouring the weak.

"That sounds kind of weird, coming from you." Venus casts a sidelong glance at Azula. "Are you sure you weren't banging Enjolras behind my back?"

She rests her hand on her stomach, fingertips pressing at the indents between her ribs.

"Or do you just want a world that doesn't leave you, personally, wanting?"

Even the joke is enough to twist her lips into a look of disgust. Thankfully Venus hits on her true intentions and she brought a finger to her nose tapping it gently in indication of accuracy.

"It shouldn't be so much to ask that I get what I deserve. Same as any woman."

Though of course she deserved much more then most women.

Azula's expression makes Venus snort. She leans in as if conspiring.

"Some women stop after just asking." Venus raises her eyebrows, pulling the robe tighter around herself. "Some women go further. I don't think Panem has a ton of patience for the latter."

Azula remained still, not leaning away as she did with other people when they got too close. Venus was on a very short list of people she trusted enough to share personal space with for a short period of time at least.

"Yes well, we may live in a world run by men, but there are plenty of ambitious women who have made a place for themselves in it. I won't deny you're probably right though." She lowered her voice to agree with Venus surreptitiously.

Leaning back into her seat once more she let the specially shaped pillow cushion her head in a natural way meant to relieve tension in her neck.

"Was your world different in that regard? Who held the ruling majority?"

"I'm betting if I said 'white folks', that wouldn't mean a damn thing to you." Venus snorts and smiles. All loosened up, her accent is starting to peak out, flickering through like underpainting. "But no, my world ain't different in that regard."

She knows how much she's done to appeal to the male gaze; people say it's power over them, but it's only giving men what they want.

Azula notices the accent and is amused by it, though it reminds her of that rude and insane tribute that died some time ago and her incredibly rough way of speaking that slipped out sometimes.

"Of course I know what you mean by that. I may be pale as milk but I'm aware of an imbalance of power based on appearances." She didn't bother opening her eyes while she explained her understanding, she didn't sound offended though. Just relaxed and mellow which was exactly what this place was supposed to do to her.

"I wonder if it's just in human nature to be terrible. And the ones of us who are decent are some form of mental and emotional mutation that will eventually be bred out or overtake us and become the standard that terrible people can never live up to." Another chuckle, amused by the concept apparently.

"Nah. You wouldn't be white in my world. You'd be Asian, and they'd call you yellow for it." She shrugs. "Which means you'd still be a rung up from me, but not a white folk. That's how those things work. It's stupid but it's how it is, where I'm from."

She can't imagine that a few months ago she'd be able to listen to Azula talk about how terrible others are without laughing. "Do you think we're going to die out or overtake, then?"

That caught her interest and she arched an eyebrow.

"Is that so? I've always been told I had "exotic" features." She made air quotes with her fingers and looked mildly put off to express how that usually made her feel. "Honestly it sounds like a word reserved for erotic dancers." Back in the day before her break down there had been a few men who had come courting her and the moment they had used that phrase for whatever reason it had always caused Azula to lose any respect she might have had for them.

And she respected almost no one back then.

"I suppose if I were to consider it, I have more faith in the younger generation overtaking the old. And so in that sense yes I believe we collectively will overtake. Aside from age putting them ever closer to being useless some old fashioned ideas simply don't work anymore no matter how hard they try to maintain a status quo."

It was a fine line between unfounded optimism and an overabundance of self confidence.

"I should like to see you rise beyond what you think is your full potential before you burn out in either respect."

Venus pauses, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling. It's so white that the only thing she can see if floaters across her vision, like the opposite of sight. She blinks, and the world ends. She opens her eyes and it begins again.

She should respond to more of what Azula's saying, but it burbles over her like water.

"What do you think my full potential is?"

That was an easy question and she answered without hesitation.

"To win."

It was decisive and solid, not even an order or encouragement just a stated fact. She recaptured her drink and rose it to her lips so they were hidden when her added for only Venus to hear, "And I don't just mean in the arena."

Her tributes may not be winners at the moment but they could be. She knew it.

And just like that the drink was empty and set back on the edge of the pool.

"You're long past due for a win." She finished.

"I don't want to win." Venus' very voice tiptoes like a ballerina, quiet but not unsteady. She knows that Azula may very well consider that a betrayal. That she wants to see the people of her District fatted on her Tributes' victories and that Venus is denying that so.

But she's been honest so far today.

"I never want to win." Not in the Arena. She doesn't know what it would mean in Panem in general.

The idea of "Not wanting to win" isn't new to Azula. She knows that Shepard never intends to actually win, and it's likely neither does Sam. The Initiate might still have hope of it. But ultimately Azula has been banking on the hope that if she can get her tributes to the final round they will have no choice but to win or die horribly. No heroic sacrifices left.

"Well that is easy enough. But it's much more difficult to keep you alive if it appears you're not even trying. And even if you aren't furthering my goals..." She hesitated and her eyes slid across the room to see who else would over hear. Only a couple attendants folding towels.

"I've grown rather fond of you and don't intend on letting you die if I have any say in the matter. So I'm afraid you're stuck."

"Does it look like I'm not even trying, though? I have the highest kill count out of every Tribute in any of the Arenas, and it's not just because I've done eight of them."

There's a spark there, a part of Venus that's proud of the one thing she can lay claim to. That she knows she should feel ashamed about, but dammit, she's competent.

It's rare that being corrected makes Azula smile. This is one of those moments.

"To the untrained eye of course not. You have a sizable fandom for a reason and it's not just your social life." She agreed and let her fingers dip into the water to make ripples glide across the surface.

"Do you think you can continue to perform that way with no end goal in sight?" Because the idea that anything would change anytime soon was still laughable despite how many changes Azula had personally witnessed in the last two years.

"I think the less of a goal I have, the better my performance will get." And it's true. When her only aim was to die, she killed more. Now that she's tried to go about it in a morally salient way her list of murders has shortened significantly.

"You don't know me, Azula. You know the surface. You don't know why I got into the field I did, and believe me, it's because the end goal was really..." She reaches for and finds a word that she picked up back when she was dating Enjolras, "nihilistic."

Normally Azula hates being told she doesn’t know something almost as much as being corrected. It’s her stubborn pride and short temper.

But this place has been carefully chosen for it’s ability to keep her calm. Even sinking to her shoulders in hot water doesn’t stir up her hydrophobia thanks to how many times she’s been here. She lets her eyes drift closed and tilts her head back resting it on the edge of the spring.

“Then enlighten me please. I hesitate to pry into the lives of my tributes if only because you’ve expressed desires to keep such things out of the public eye, but if it’s going to influence how I see you then perhaps it would be more beneficial to fill me in more?” She offered hopefully.

Azula was hardly the type for gossip. Gathering knowledge was always more important to her then sharing it.

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I want a girl with uninterrupted prosperity, who uses a machete to cut through red tape.

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