Prologue I: Just Short of Perfection


Lucille Heron, President of Panem.


President Lucille Cordelia Heron expects nothing short of perfection.

It is most reflective in her appearance. Never will anyone see a wrinkle on her blouse or hair out of place on her head. Despite her aging body, they'll never be silver either. Her straight hair is always the same shade of jet black, the color of a raven's feathers or the blackened night sky. They are never grey and never brown or blonde. They are always black.

Her eyes, the color of sharp icicles dangling from buildings in the dead of winter, are perfectly symmetrical too. Their piercing gaze is deadly accurate, shooting down anyone that dares defy her. They never miss either. Her icy eyes always scare the living hell out of anyone who even looks her way, frightening them right back into their place.

Her skin is nothing short of perfection either. Always, it is as smooth as a baby's bottom and lacks any blemishes that mortal women normally have. But she is not normal. She is the president of Panem, the most powerful person on earth. She is a step down from a goddess, practically immortal and untouchable.

The presidential mansion is always in perfect order as well. President Heron knows that the first step of keeping an orderly mind is to keep an immaculately clean working space. There is never a speck of dust on the floor or a dust bunny in any of the corners. Her desk never has clutter; it is always as neat and organized as her. Along the walls of her office, twelve birdcages sit, exactly the same distance apart from each other. Inside them are twelve red birds, each exactly the same hue. They all look identical like twins split from the same cell.

So when the 10th Annual Hunger Games end in utter disaster, President Heron is furious.

Standing from her desk, she rips open the doors of her office and storms down the hallway, her tall heels clacking angrily against the tile floor. A few avoxes turn her way then shrink back in fear, worried she'll take her anger out on them. However, she has a specific target in mind.

Like a ferocious storm, she enters the gamemaking hall in a blaze of fury. The doors slam open and she walks in, her presence immediately recognized. All the scurrying and nervous gamemakers look up from what they're doing and gaze her way, their eyes wide with terror.

"Where is Nina?" She hisses, her shiny teeth bared like a territorial wolf. Everyone immediately turns toward a short girl with long brown hair and wide eyes, sighing in relief that she wasn't out for them. Not yet, at least.

Nina gasps slightly and staggers toward her. "It's—it's all und—under control, Madame President," she stutters, her nervousness apparent to anyone with eyes or ears.

Narrowing her eyes into small slits, President Heron glares at the girl who now looked like a frightened child. "Is it really?" She asked harshly, her tone sharp as daggers.

Nina nods her head as quickly as she can manage. "Yes! Yes! We were able to save the boy from Six—he—he's in critical condition but he'll live."

"Why are you saving him?" She roars. "He's the one who got us into this mess! Save the career for god's sake! Are you all vapid?"

"N—no ma'am," Nina stutters again, her face as pale as white snow. "T—the career is dead. Raleigh was the only tribute who was salvageable."

Her nostrils flare with anger. This is not what she wants. The games are supposed to be perfect. This is not perfect. The boy—whatever his name is—tried to rob her of the perfection she had spent so much time trying to achieve. His little stunt makes it so there is a possibility that there will be no victors at all, ruining the entire concept of her Hunger Games. All she wants right now is to wring his little neck like she does to her birds. However, she can't. He's a victor, as invincible as her. She'll have to find another way to hurt him.

In the meanwhile, she decides to take all her anger out on the gamemakers. "You're fired!" She screeches loudly, her booming voice echoing off the walls of the room. "All of you! Get out of my sight this second or so help me god I'll kill every last one of you!"

They all scramble to their feet, running in every which direction. She smiles as she watches the chaos she created. They aren't perfect. They were the ones who ruined her games. They, like her games, were flawed. But she'll make them right again. She'll find someone who will see her vision of flawlessness and make sure that this horrible atrocity never happens again.

For her, perfection is the only option. There is no other way.


A/N: Hello, and welcome to my second SYOT, Blackened! If you didn't read Crimson this prologue will probably make no sense to you, but that's fine, I welcome you to read and submit to this story either way. You all have no idea how excited I am to get this show on the road, and after Crimson, I hope you all are excited too!

So please, come and submit! Submissions will be open until early/mid march, depending on how many I get before then. It will be a max of two per person, for now.

The form will be below or on my profile, and please, PM me all submissions.


Name:

Age:

Gender/Pronouns:

District (And backups, if you'd like):

Sexuality:

Appearance:

Personality (At least a paragraph):

Backstory (At least a paragraph):

Family/Friends:

Reaped or Volunteered?:

Reason for Volunteering/Reaction to Reaping:

Chariot Outfit/Interview Outfit:

Interview Angle (if they have one):

What Do They Do In Training?:

What Do They Do In Private Sessions?:

Suggested Training Score:

Games Strategy:

Allies? If so, with whom (Generally. Ex: careers, younger tributes, strong outliers, district partner):

Token (optional):

Quote:

Anything else?:

paper :)