The Desert's Edge ➣ Gloss/OC

If you are a storm, then let me say this:

Chapter Thirteen | If you are a storm, then let me say this:

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this;

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

1.5, 94-97, Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

Elara has grown accustomed to the second life she lives in the Capitol. She doubts she'll ever get used to it, really, but she no longer wanders around the city aimlessly when she is there, confused about what her purpose is in this vast place that is so different from her home. The people no longer make her cringe. Their flamboyant fashions have become almost normal to her. Sometimes, she even finds herself amused by what these creatures come up with. So far, the most bizarre trend has been the ostrich features that they'd been obsessed with a few months back. They were everywhere on the streets, making every Capitolite appear like giant colorful birds prancing around in an otherwise slate grey world.

No – she hasn't gotten used to this strange city and these shallow people, but they no longer shock her. She still gets shocked by other things, though.

She's cringing every other step as she walks down the hall to where her apartment awaits, nestled high in one of the skyscrapers on the East End where most of the wealthier citizens live. Most of the Victors live in this part of the city because of their vaulted social status, though as far as Elara knows, she's the only person on this side of the neighborhood. To be fair, she only knows the location of one other Victor's apartment, so she's not entirely sure.

She's been in the Capitol for about two weeks now, and has another four days to go before she can return to District 5. This is one of her longer visits. Usually, Snow only invites her for a week or so at a time, but it's pre-Games season and the Capitol is already preparing for the upcoming Hunger Games. The Reaping is still a ways off, but it hardly matters to these creatures. They are already hosting parties left and right, eagerly chattering about what this year's Games will bring and what sort of Victor will be crowned at the end of them. Like clockwork every year, the Capitol turns its attentions to the one event that they've all been waiting for, excited to watch yet another round of children meet their deaths in bloody and horrific ways. And, like clockwork, their attention is drawn not only to the upcoming Games, but also to the current Victors as well.

That's why her current stay is so long. Her number of scheduled clients is already long as it is, but Snow gives allowances during this time of year so that last minute clients can be accommodated for around her schedule. She knows it's the same for the other Victors who are forced into this life, but she still loathes it, primarily because many of those last minute clients are...different.

It's odd, really, but Elara has noticed that there are a few variations in the types of clients who buy her. Many of the scheduled ones are high ranking socialites or CEOs. Those are the types who turn to her for pleasure because they don't get it at home. Then there are the ones who do, but buy her services just because they want the experience of bedding a Victor. And then – there are those whose peculiar tastes make them sexual pariahs, and they turn to the Victors because they know that they can't be turned away.

Unfortunately for her, she had one of those tonight.

They aren't all bad. Sometimes their strange tastes extend merely to lingerie or dirty talk or barking orders. Those, she can handle. But sometimes their preferences are darker, fouler, and involve a sort of physical pain and humiliation that leaves her scarred in ways that don't just mar her skin.