𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓯𝓵𝔂 - (𝓕.𝓞𝓭𝓪𝓲𝓻)

09.

vol ii
☼ chapter nine ☼

Theia's observable shadow is utterly bewildered by her sudden radical shift in attitude. And yet, he doesn't query it, mindlessly following and adhering to every task she lays before him. Keenan tries everything to please her, going far out of his way to do whatever she wishes, including giving practically every ounce of information the girl requires.

Not that Theia alludes to the significance—no, definitely not. She'd so often feigned interest, simply claiming she wanted to get to know her place of work.
Something she knew wouldn't cause alarm. To a large extent, the boy is acquainted with her habits—the ways in which she functions. Faultlessly analytical, Theia Marsden has always needed every question answered.
And Keenan's active grovelling gave her all the answers she needed.

He'd given her tours of the entire compound, introduced her to every notable staff member, shown the department's most significant technological achievements, and practically handed over every principal document she'd needed.
At the end of each day, Theia returns to her apartment, writing pages upon pages of intel gathered, even going as far as penning floor plans completely from memory.

Keenan had made it easy. Far too easy. But to that extent, Theia also knew she needed to be extremely careful. One wrong step could give away her true intentions.
But for now, she was in a commendable position, one that she could easily handle.

After five weeks of tedious gathering, she'd seen Irene again, the woman extremely pleased at the progress, her only instructions being to continue until further advised.

Another figure Theia had frequently seen was her all-too-charming neighbour, who was more than pleased to bump into her at every available convenience.
He often had an exuberant Capitol dweller hanging off his harm, a blinding grin and accommodating wave at the ready.

Theia found it unsettling. It was clear that he put on an act—an incredibly good one at that—but she didn't quite buy it. Not like the residents of the city did.
Finnick Odair's smile never quite met his eyes.

Well, at least not from what she'd observed. Largely from a distance, of course, except for the events they both attended.
And that was where she was expected this evening, at perhaps the most anticipated party of the year—their beloved President's birthday celebration.

Theia's excited for one reason only, which is that all Victors' attendance is required. A terrible sentence for most, but a moment of respite for a girl with little familial contact. She'd surely be seeing a piece of home after nearly two arduous months.

That wasn't to say that Ambrose and Blayse hadn't been wonderful company; they truly had been. She'd never felt completely alone with their constant presence.
Even though her previous escort's frivolities were often exhausting, she greatly appreciated his efforts of inclusion, even the constant invites to all of his extravagant parties—a desperate call to get the girl out of her apartment.

And her stylist never ceased to try and grant her an ounce of normality in the all-too-overwhelming capital; often, just sitting in the fashion studio and watching the immense art take place was enough for a moment of peace.

Blayse had worked tirelessly on the piece for the celebration. She'd constructed a beautiful ball gown in a colour that, frankly, Theia had never worn—a striking rouge shade, perhaps chosen to give off a sense of frivolity that the Victor did not have?
With matching jewellery, she looked like a rare gem, utterly untouchable.