FAILURE TO COMPLY ┃ f. odair

4.3 to bleed for a cause

There was some comfort to be sought in the familiarity of the District Five apartment. Peacekeepers had walked Calypso straight through the main lounge and to her old room where they'd left her alone for what felt like hours. For the first time in several weeks, she let herself indulge in the comfort that the soft bed provided and had at least a short meaningful rest.

The sound of the door clicking shut, though incredibly quiet, roused her from her sleep, and there Vega stood. He was still in the Capitol but wore a weary expression she'd never seen on him before. He mumbled a few words about getting her ready for a live interview and then directed her to the dresser within the room.

It was fine. Calypso didn't really want to speak to him either. Vega was never a part of any of it and as she'd grown closer with her rebel associates, most of all Cinna, she'd strayed further and further from him. Seeing him now only proved that she'd been right to do so. While Monica valued her family above her own comforts, Vega the Visionary was a man of luxury that only the Capitol could provide.

It was incredibly awkward to sit in that silence as he began to doll up her face, making no comments about the bruises and burn marks he was covering with thick layers of makeup. Did he not care? Had he ever cared? He must've been aware of her situation in part as he'd barely batted an eye at the sight of it all.

As he worked on her skin, he moved from wet concealer to dry powder. The brush picked up the fine substance, particles flying into the air as he let the excess go. It entered Calypso's lungs with her breath, making her cough and choke like she was back in her first games in that horrific dusty city. She pushed his hand away.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, setting aside the pot. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You already have," she replied, void of emotion. "You've betrayed me, Vega."

"You betrayed all of us," he countered, gentle fingers running through her hair to juxtapose the sudden sternness of his voice like he was scolding a child. She'd stopped being a child a long, long time ago. "I believed in you, Calypso. You could've won the games again and gone home."

Gone home. Gone home to what? A cursed village waiting for her to be its next victim. If Calypso had won the games, meaning the deaths of her father, Johanna and Finnick, she would've killed herself.

Vega sighed at her silence and got to work on her hair instead, pulling strands back tightly with a sharp comb but leaving the front few down to hide the bruises at the edge of her face not completely covered by the makeup. While he was distracted, she observed the contents of the large makeup bag he'd brought. Her eyes ignored almost everything save for the shine of metal: razor blades he'd used to refine her eyebrows.

"Want to see what you'll be wearing?" he asked, turning away to retrieve the outfit where it lay on the bed. Calypso turned her body on the stool, reaching for one of the blades as she went. Vega produced a white form-fitting pantsuit from the garment bag. It showed so much less skin than she was used to, but it made his job of covering her marks much easier. "Beautiful, isn't it? Simple but elegant. You'll be the image of purity, which is exactly what you need for damage control. You'll need to play your part, understand? Be a good girl."

Calypso nodded. As horrible as it was, she was happy to be used for something other than sexual favours. As Vega helped her put the suit on, she kept the tiny blade hidden between her fingers, then up her sleeve. For just a second, she thought about using it on him, but what good would that do her? If she was going to be on TV, she could at least make a spectacle of it. Even the smallest blade could have a big effect.

The studio was set up in what was the District Twelve penthouse. Most of the large lounge remained the same, but one corner had been overtaken by the crew with two massive cameras pointed at two chairs within a walled-off set. In one of the chairs, Caesar Flickerman sat addressing Panem, already announcing her arrival.