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Paisley Cotton

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[23 Oct 2020|11:19am]
Living on the streets Paisley had never lost track of the rising and setting of the sun. It was always an ever present feature, unless the weather didn't permit it. The vast mansion she now called home had wide windows but Paisley spent most of her time in front of the loom she had been given or sleeping in the closet of the master bedroom.

It had been a shock to Centezia, Paisley's stylist, when she threw the door open expecting to find Paisley's clothes only to find a small mattress with piles of pillows and blankets. The vibrant purple haired woman had out right deflated when she realized what was going on. Everyone that worked with Paisley had learned the girl was uncomfortable to the near point of catatonia in open spaces. It had been curbed with how they dressed Paisley, large oversized chunky cardigans seemed to help. Centezia had been a comfort to Paisley. The Capitol born stylist had been sympathetic to the wounded animal that Paisley truly was. When it was learned Paisley didn't do well in shoes Centezia spent hours stringing beads to make her barefoot sandals. When Paisley had lost a majority of her hair Centezia had taken the scissors from the hair specialist and cut it herself to make it into a pixie style cut when the other had insisted on extensions. Centezia, a woman barely as old as Paisley's mentor, had truly taken to mothering the girl.

With her lack of hair it took little time to prepare Paisley for her interview before she was to get on the train. The camera crew came into the foyer of her home and she stood there tall and gangly, looking all the more slender in the oversized cardigan. She fidgeted with her sleeves the entire time, though it seemed her awkwardness came across as charming to those in the Capitol. The Capitol had taken to calling their newest victor the Porcelain Doll due to her fragile features and pale complexion. How Centezia styled her only magnified the impression.

Beauty in a Victor was a dangerous thing. It meant the Capitol was going to use and abuse you as their plaything. Paisley was a delicate beauty. She also didn't have to wait to be 18, Paisley had been Reaped during the last year she was eligible. She had turned 19 the day she was paraded around in a chariot with Taylor. The only thing that could possibly save Paisley from such a fate would be her temperament. Though a survivor, Paisley was also fragile emotionally. Caesar Flickerman had had to go backstage to drag her out for her interview before the games. It had been an issue many thought would be a negative to her support but it had been just the opposite. The Capitol had found Paisley endearingly odd, with each interview her peculiar nature came out more and more and they loved it.

Paisley had yet to see her mentor for a significant amount of time since they had arrived back in District 8. He stopped by to check on her and she had caught glimpses of him through her windows but little more. It made her chest ache and she hated it. She had survived most of her life by herself, never needing anyone. Weaver had come into her life uninvited and he burrowed into her heart. Life hadn't hurt as much before him as it now did after him, in the absence of him. There were days she questioned if surviving the Games had been worth it all.

She had stood in front of her home and managed to smile and answer questions in her tiny soft voice. She had vanished into the train the moment she was allowed and vanished from sight. The train was just as lavish as she remembered. The train was compact, easier to relax inside of due to the design, even a train car designed to be open and airy was still a cramped train car. She plopped down in the back car and pulled her knees to her chest. She was a coiled ball of delicate eyelet lace edged cotton and voluminous alpaca cable knit, Paisley had truly never looked more like the porcelain doll she was constantly compared to.
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[23 Sep 2018|08:03pm]
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Paisley's time in the Arena [13 Sep 2018|06:08pm]
The Arena )
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