"Let's Play A Game." - Au Revoir by OneRepublic

A Poem of Swine and Wrath - The 40th Hunger Games

Stylist for the District 8 Female, Euphorba

Prologue Part 1

"I dreamed I was carrying the head of the president last night," Hektor says. He's wearing a see-through shirt. I barely hang on to his words because I'm too busy counting his abs. One, three, five, eight.

"Are those natural?" I ask.

"Did you hear what I said?" he asks, confused.

I slip myself closer to him, almost knocking over the platter of cookies I purchased.

"Whoops!" I say.

Hektor scoots away. "E, you aren't listening to me. I had a dream I was carrying the president's head last night." A knocking sounds at the door.

"That must be Jupiter and Alessandro," I say. Hektor grabs a pillow, cradling it, the biceps in his arms rippling beneath the fabric. There's no way those muscles are real. No one in our industry has that amount of time to be that physically fit. But how would he afford all the injections, the muscular implants? I mean, even I don't have the salary to support such physical alterations to make myself appear more goddess than woman. And sure enough, a member of my prep team doesn't make half of what I make.

"Now," I say. I hear Jupiter's heels clacking, tap, tap, tap behind the door. "No mentioning Agnus, please." For Hektor to be so yummy, he really doesn't have keen social skills. He tends to asks the questions you look online for answers, in secret, discretely, when no one is around. Some, I assume, might say he is bold. I wouldn't agree, though.

Hektor doesn't respond before Alessandro and Jupiter come barreling in, the later sporting a dress that's absolutely lacking of class. The feather to pearl ratio is all off. And the color is crude, the color purple way too dull.

"You look ravishing," I say, a lie obviously.

Jupiter smiles. "Really? I was hesitant about," Her lavender dyed hands move to the feathers. Come to think of it, the fluffy violet feathers remind me of one of the mutts in last years games. The large, goofy looking tropical birds that barely had any fun. I think they only took out the boy from District 6, or was it District 9. Oh, I'm sure it doesn't matter now. Neither 9 or 6 were all that memorable, anyhow.

"Yes," I say. "It's beautiful. Eloquent, really. With the golden pearls and feathers." It's hideous, but I can't have Jupiter fainting over criticism. She can't handle it, so its best to just praise her. That way she does her job with a smile and I don't end up with another tribute with gapped bangs.

"Hello," Alessandro says. Until now, I'd forgotten about the little wallflower. He flops on the velvet couch, indigo curls bouncing to the movement. That's one thing with Alessandro, he has beautiful hair. I'd kill for thick curls like his. It's a shame, really, for curls to go to someone with such disproportional features. A big nose. Large eyes. Thin lips. Other than the hair, he has nothing to be envious of.

"Are these without eggs?" asks Jupiter. "You know I'm allergic, right?" I'd forgotten.

"I believe so," I say. Jupiter takes one of the frosted cookies. There's a beautiful yellow flower on it. She bites it in half. Crumbs fall on the floor and I frown. She's such a slob.

"How's everyone doing?" Hektor pipes in. He turns to Alessandro. "How's the off season treating you?"

Alessandro burst in tears, the dramatic little thing. "Fine, really. I'm fine," he says after realizing the rest of us aren't budging at his theatrics. "Just thinking about her is all. More than usual." Alessandro's wife left him for a younger peacekeeper. It's been years since the affair occurred, but unfortunately Alessandro hasn't recovered.

"There, there," I say sweetly. I grab the canister filled with bourbon. "Have a little. It helps." I pour him more than a little in the glass.

"Ice?" I ask.

"No," he says. "I like it neat." He takes a sip, shivers, leans back on the couch, his belly bulging past his fuchsia pants. It's grotesque, the sight of so much pink. Like a swollen tongue.

I finally have seat, turn on the tv, and pour myself a drink. "What games were we in the mood for?"

"You should do one of those little surveys. The ones that suggest which Games to binge."

"Oh," I say. "Those never capture my mood properly. They always recommend one that's a bore."

Jupiter suddenly leans up, smiling. She has a smudge of green lipstick on her tooth and it looks like vomit or cabbage or spinach. I make a mental note to have a seminar about style, since my team definitely needs it.

"So," Jupiter begins. "As you all know, I'm dating gamemaker Ma-"

"Yes, we know," Hektor interrupts.

"Well, he dropped me a hint about the arena," Jupiter continues, unfazed. "He mentioned an Ogre." An Ogre? Hmm, strange.

"Are you sure he wasn't calling you that?" Alessandro asks.

Jupiter gasps. I laugh. "Yes, are you sure he wasn't calling you an Ogre?" Considering she does eat like one. . .

"My little Ogre,"Hektor coos.

Jupiter crosses her arms. "You're simply jealous, I know. But there's no need for cruelty."

Cruelty is the dress she's wearing, which is what I want to say, but instead I go with, "Oh, we're kidding! We know he's fond of you."

"Fond?" Jupiter frowns. "You don't believe its love?"

"Has he left his wife?" Alessandro asks.

"Well, no," Jupiter admits.

"Then, no," Alessandro says. "I don't believe its love."

"What would you know?" Jupiter snaps.

Alessandro flinches. "I wouldn't, that's the point."

"Let's have another drink!" I say, feeling the tension.

Then there's the knocking.

"Are you expecting someone?" Hektor asks.

"No," I say.

Then the television flickers on. An image of a dark haired man on the screen. I take in his lips without thinking, knowing I've seen him so many times.

"That's Marcellus!" Jupiter shouts, horrified. "Treason? That can't be correct, can it?"

The knocking has transformed to pounding now.

"Someone get the door," Alessandro says.

Hektor stands, while I stare at the screen. Treason? The words print across the screen, running and running and running and reminding me that I should do something this year with silk. A long silk gown perhaps.

"This can't be true." Jupiter turns to me. "They're saying treason, but I know Marc. He's loyalist, through and through, E."

Hektor opens the door. I barely have time to stand, before the bullet enters his head and his body collapses to the floor.

A:N: Hi, I'm Austin. This is an SYOT. I'll post the form on my profile.


1) Who was your favorite character? Jupiter, Alessandro, Hektor, or Euphorba?

2) What's your favorite district?

3) Thoughts on the writing, plot, who could have been at the door?

Hope and praying everyone is staying safe and indoors!