A black-furred cat was wondering, pondering the large variety of ideas for the parade the she had. Of course, the solitary figure was not included in any decisions, much to her overwhelming disappointment, though she was slightly intrigued to see what the game masters came up with. If it were them who decided, and not some little rat amongst the game. Confident pawsteps echoed throughout the halls as she was taken to the lair. There she was dressed in an outstanding outfit, one she had critiqued herself. Memories whirled around in her mind, memories of her demanding to help, she was from district 8, district of textiles, not some petty little capitol designer. She refused to admit that they had done a brilliant job of bringing her vision to life. Cassiopeia dressed quickly, the measurements where accurate, of course. She was a queen when it came to clothing. She was a queen when it came to everything, after all. This game was an obstacle, a… a mere flaw in her rise to the crown. She would claim it, eventually. It was her birthright. ————————————————————————— The queen strode along the docks… the docks? This was strange. In more recent years, no, every year, the brave tributes, destined to die, had ridden in large, horse drawn carriages. This was a surprise. A brilliant, personalised boat was in front of her, making Cassiopeia’s pale green eyes widen. Yes, this was certainly different. Different for her year, her time to shine. The pale cloak slithered behind her, the snake following it’s prey. Only, she was the prey, and she controlled the snake. A predator in disguise, perhaps? Who shall know. Her boat suited her, she thought. Oh yes it did. It was a small, sleek wooden thing, crafted from a dark wood. Gold was inlaid in it, shimmering in the dancing light, like a hidden gift for the crowd to feast their beady little eyes upon. A tall throne was placed in the centre, made out of solid gold, or at least, crafted in a way to look like it had been. Cassiopeia knew it was fake. Not that she’d let anyone know it, of course. Plush green cushions made the seat and back softer, easier for her to sit on it. IT wasn’t what she had wanted, but the designers wouldn’t have known. They didn’t even bother to ask her. /Rude/. Emerald moss hung over the back, draped across the wooden beauty like a green cape. She let out a laugh. This was truely beautiful. The silver-tongued cat waited patiently, waiting for the other seven districts to sail out, out into a world of fame and death. As she watched the tributes from district seven head out, a capitol worker shoved a jar of glowing lights into her paws. As she placed it down, he quickly placed a packet of yellow and pink confetti next to it, followed by two dull red Pom poms. An idea formed in her snake-like mind as her ship sailed away. Before she reached the crowds of people ahead, in say, two minutes, Cassiopeia tore open the packet of confetti. Not letting any of the paper spill, she carefully placed it on top of her cloak, after she sat down. Once she had made sure none of it would be visible to the members of the capitol watching from the side, she tossed the empty packet into the water. /They do not have to know. It will be worth it, worth it for the fame and the shine./
Cheers greeted the boat as it floated forward, seemingly moved by some motor underneath the black, cold surface of the black-hearted water. They gasped in awe as the light made gold within the coffee coloured oak shine like the sun, a queen’s gift to the watching eyes of the peasants. Upon a golden throne sat a black furred cat, pale eyes glinting with pleasure as she faced the crowd. A crown had been gently placed on her head, made out of the sun, hopes, happy memories one would wish to hold again. A bright, resplendent snake clasp with glittering emerald eyes glared at all the capitol memories, judging them for their enthusiasm in this torturous, annual event. This watching clasp held an equally beautiful cloak, made of jade-coloured velvet and false, but seemingly real, soft, pearly white fur. Elegant black boots held this queen’s paws as she smiled towards the crowd. They cheered, she waved. It was a simple trade, but a good one nonetheless. The queen crawled off her throne, preparing to go and meet her subjects. She was the queen of the people, and she would be seen a so. As she rose, flecks of yellow and pink paper were flicked through the air, creating a colourful and bright cloud, halo, one that would keep her sae from any bad thoughts the crowd had, for surely, there were none. Claps and shouts greeted this spectacle, and Cassiopeia greeted them. “Hello, my dear friends of the capitol, this is your queen speaking.” They went quiet. /Do they believe me?/ “I am not an /actual/ queen, trust me, though I do intend to dominate the arena once I set my paw in it.” She let out a chuckle, facing the growing crowd with a well-trained smile. “Do you see this?” She held out her shimmering cloak to the crowd, murmurs of approval arising from the watchers. “I made this with my very paws, or at least, I intended to. This is my design. And I believe I may survive these hunger games, stitching lives out of a royal tapestry like this cloak. I love you, my dear friends of the capitol, and I intend to bring your screens /alight./“ With that last word, Cassiopeia stepped down on the carefully hidden jar of fireflies. The glass cracked, releasing the beautiful, living lights out into the sky. She then through the Pom poms up into the air before twirling, then catching them. Cassiopeia waved to the everlasting crowd with these blood-coloured props, before spinning away into the darkness. She was swept up onto her throne in a wave of green velvet and gold, watching the crowd, now illuminated by the light, before whispering, “Cassiopeia.” ————————————————————————— The queen, like all monarchs, had to step off her throne at last. It was a relief, for Cassiopeia, the designer had made the cloak to heavy and the shoes too tight. It had been worth it though in the end. She was a charismatic cat, that was for sure. A silver-tongued snake in a maze of wild animals. ============= Art by me
