Edema Rue

“Hmm…” Aurylia nods decisively. “Absolutely. Oh, Ruth, you won’t believe when I tell you that Jetta just forgot to write ‘no plus ones’ on the invite…and I know I should have watched her more closely, but I’ve just been so busy…the point is, the girl has got to go. Where did you find Grace? I want one like her.”

Aurylia smiles, dipping her head. “Lady Ruth! I am, as always, delighted to see you. I hope your lateness was caused by fortune and not fate, yes?”

@Spark of Hope

“How curious,” Aurylia mused. She turned, spotting Lord Vaelor. “Have you met Draco?” @Shatter

“Magic!” Aurylia laughed lightly. “Aren’t you just a delight? That’s simply fascinating. And so uncommon…why, think of the story! I could sponsor them. It would change fashion forever! Oh, yes, you must give them my information.”

Aurylia whipped around, searching…there. A servant in a white suit scurried towards her. ”Yes, Lady?” ”I told you there were to be no plus-ones this year,” Aurylia hissed. The servant paled visibly. “I…I’m sure I took it off the invitations, Lady.” Aurylia pointed at Draco’s invitation. “Clearly, you did not. Go make yourself useful. I’ll deal with you later.” She turned back to Draco. “It’s unconventional, but we have a seat for your…twin, you said? You can stay.” She took a breath, feeling her heartrate slow. Yes. This was good. She’d be all right. “And sometime, you’ll have to tell me where you got your arm done. That kind of flexibility is brilliant—it must match every outfit!” A few people watching nodded their agreement.

“That is not how invitations work!” Aurylia was proud that she didn’t sigh. She was proud that she didn’t scream, cry, or, heaven forbid, throw a punch. She did close her eyes and take a long breath, but that was just fine. A man with spiky green hair and a cloak that looked like falling verdant spores even patted her shoulder consolingly as he passed. They understood. “You ought to be thrown out, playing these kinds of games at the party of the year.” She wasn’t going to cry. Hostesses didn’t cry. But really, to show up uninvited to a party, and slander it in front of the guests? Much worse, to slander the games themselves? It was very nearly a district idea, and the thought disgusted Aurylia so much that she started to feel faint. She pulled a fan from her pocket. “Well? Have you got an explanation?”

“Mm.” Aurylia pursed her lips. She could see a pair of women with short hair and identical noses listening in. “You are aware that this is an invitation only event?” The arm was distasteful, but suggesting that she was too weak to handle it? That was downright rude. Next year, she thought wryly, I’m not hosting.

Aurylia winced, not recognizing the stranger and not at all appreciating the scales. Honestly. It was as if people didn’t even read the invitations. But then, speaking of invitations, had she invited him? Slowly, she made her way through the crowd. “What a unique sense of style,” she said conversationally. “I would expect it to leave an impression, but I can’t seem to recall your name…”

Aurylia nodded again. “Then be at ease, my lord.” She drifted away, turning to look out the one of the “windows” onto a sea of midnight spores. Slowly, steadily, guests trickled in. A few at a time, one here, one there, but enough that the party wasn’t an embarrassment, and in the end, wasn’t that the most important thing? Aurylia danced between groups, delightful and charming, the perfect hostess.

Woah, hey Canada! Haven’t seen you around in a while (that might be my own fault though), we miss you!

Aurylia dipped her head, smiling as only a noble could. “That depends entirely on this year’s tributes…but I must say, I have high hopes.” She crossed the room, heels clicking strangely on the tile. At a closer glance, it was clear they were made of polished white bone. “Your punctuality is greatly appreciated, but I do apologize for the wait.” She laughed softly, like bells tinkling. “Everyone always wants to be fashionably late, but all that does is push back the time.”

The house was perfect. It was more a palace than a house, really, and the entire thing glittered. A long table was set up in the ballroom, covered in rich foods. Various meats dripped with grease, fresh fruits were arranged artfully in crystal bowls, and decadent charcuterie boards filled in the gaps. There were soups, salads, breads, pastries. The rest of the ballroom contained smaller circular tables, where places were set out. Three forks, two spoons, a knife, and a name card. A salad plate, a dessert plate, a soup bowl, a plate for the main course, a wineglass, a water glass. All the dishes were part of a set Aurylia had gotten made specifically for this year’s hunger games. Each table had a centerpiece and tablecloth themed after a specific spore; the spiky crimson table was her personal favorite. Aurylia surveyed the room one final time. Servants were already standing at the walls. A butler was waiting to collect luggage as the guests ate. And, of course, the screens. In place of windows—disgusting things, showing weather that never seemed to match the occasion—the ballroom had more than a dozen alcoves containing tall, arched screens. Later, they’d show footage of the games themselves, but right now, they took the form of pale silver windows that looked out onto a sea of colored spores. Each “window” showed a different color of spores. Finally, Aurylia took a last look in the mirror. Her hair, which shimmered a different color every time she moved, fell nearly to her feet, with two small buns out of which poked a pair of antlers. They had long been a topic of upper class gossip—were they surgically implanted, or merely clever hair ornaments? Aurylia had never spoken on the subject. Her dress was a simple, silky black (all the better to accentuate her hair). Satisfied, she clapped her hands. The invitations had been sent out. The guests would be arriving any minute, and she couldn’t wait to watch this year’s games.

No burial? Now that’s definitely not fair.

Hmm eight nine?

“Should I?”

“No cruel or unusual punishment, man.”

“Hehehehehehehe SIX SEVVVEEEEN”