Omg, I've been away for a fair while haven't I? :S So first of all: I AM SORRY! I've literally just been procastinating as though my life depends on it which isn't the most productive thing I admit, but I think it helps boost my creativity: Which is a GOOD thing! So here are the interviews, not everyone will be getting one though...In detail any way, I'm eager cause next chapter is the last:) Yes, as you know I won't be presenting the new tributes till after my current crew begin to drop like flies ;)
Oooo...But, I have a little mission for you all: Two great writers are looking for tributes so go SUBMIT!
Forms and such are on their profile pages... So go and read and then review and put some smiles on people's faces yeah? Being nice to some of my favourite authors might motivate me to not procastinate as much.
(She gave birth to Evan Lawrence, not literally..but a great writer who will help with anything:) if it is help with your plot,tributes or general chit chat)
A Velvet Nightmare
(One of my best friends who has started her first story, she is fabulous despite being a dumb blonde so lets give her some support :))
And somehow, I've managed to procastinate again :/
Claude Dew, District 2.
I am a strong, brutal career: I will kill mercilessly.I am a strong, brutal career: I will kill mercilessly...
This mantra is playing on loop inside my head, hopefully if I think about this enough there is the slightest chance I may begin to believe it and somehow develop the capabilities to slaughter innocent children without a second thought; for the crux of the matter is pretty simple: I need to become the cold killer I never thought I would be, thanks to the strict training regime implemented in District 2 I am there physically but mentally is a whole new ball game. I take a deep breathe, the advantages to the winning the Hunger Games are becoming more apparent: Even though I am only 18, becoming the Victor will ensure I will have no problems supporting Iris and helping to raise the baby, our baby, my baby. But the Hunger Games are a double edged sword, while my victory would have these advantages I am not naive enough to think there won't be disadvantages. I am not arrogant enough to think that the deaths of my 23 fellow tributes wouldn't haunt my every waking moment but Iris needs me. A claxon rings, it is time to get this show on the road: I stride forward and take my place in the line just before the female from 5 is dragged in, silent tears streaming down her face.
This is the final time al 24 of us tributes will stand together until tomorrow when it begins, maybe it is the fact I face potential death but I cannothelp but tune out the ramblings of my allies: Nicoli's panic about whether anyone will think his elegantly cut silver suit makes him look fat and as Ruby and Kai talk about how pathetic the other tributes are. I can't help but think how many of us will be left standing after the bloodbath sure to occur at the Cornucopia? How many lives will I take by my own hand? Will I fare better than Shine if he were the one to come to the Capitol.. I'll never know.
From the corner of my eye I spot the two 12 year old girls: Livvya and Lacey, wearing fine gowns of lilac and lemon respectively; they appear angelic, able to wear smiles despite the certainty of their fate. To die before they have even lived, and in that moment I admire their courage and how they radiate courage as they hold their heads high when the girl from 5 just weeps but I am also thankful. Thankful for the fact that even if I do die, I 've managed to experience love; seen and experienced things that these two never will. I send a silent prayer that my son or daughter will be born into a district where they will be relatively safe from the Hunger Games: I thank Noah Daniels and his executive decision to open those training academies all those years ago.
I continue to watch the two young girls, mourning the loss of innocence they face when they are joined by the girl from 10, Ginna. She wears a floor length gown of russet coloured silk, her reddish hair styled into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck: Despite her not being conventionally beautiful, there is a majestic grace which is rare amongst those from the livestock district. She turns from her tiny ward who continue to babble, her green eyes turned on me: Hard and as shiny as emeralds, I sub consciously step back. Despite my superior training score, and my training back home I am scared and I find her unwavering glare unnerving. The fierce stare of a lioness who is prepared to defend her cubs, and I'm thankful that she is metaphorically cage for now for there is no doubt in my mind that she could defeat me with relative ease. I turn my back on the trio, intending to take a few moments to calm my nerves and watch my competitors.
"So, you ready Claw?" My district partner decides to turn and address me and it is a rather intriguing sight: Sandy wearing a frilly purple dress with ruffles around her neck, meant to appear as feminine with her dirty blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, but to me she appears as aloof as ever with her arms folded across her chest and a smirk on her face; while Nikki is fretting about his hair and partings, Sandy looks relaxed to the point of boredom as she looks at her manicured nails with a distinct sense of disinterest. It is no secret that her senese of general mystery and apathy will result in a large sum of sponsorship money.
"Fine, just going over my angle and stuff." It is a slight bending of the truth, I am trying to cement my angle into my mind: It just isn't my biggest concern right now. But Sandy must somehow smell the deceit, she rolls her eyes and turns away from me: I let out a huff of frustration. It had to be me that got the district partner who is the human equivalent of a lie detector. But what did she want me to say? How are we supposed to kill 12 year olds? No, I'm scared of dying or maybe I can't believe I might never see my child; I regret volunteering. And the list goes on, the worries continue to swim in my head. In the distance you can hear the distinctive baritone of Ceasar Flickerman, warming up the audience with a plethora of puns and generally clowning around. I feel slightly harassed until the line begins to move, all 24 of us file into the studio and are ushered into chairs that form a semi-circle around the raised platform where the interviews take place.
I glance around to see that everyone is dealing with their nerves in their own way, trying to ease the agitation that in a matter of minutes or hours they will be being interviewed live for the whole of Panem to see: Potentially the last time their friends and families could see them alive when they aren't being mutilated by whatever this years gamemaker's may have planned: Seraphine from 7 is just glaring at anyone who catches her eye and just generally making it known she would rather be anywhere but here, the boy from 11 is wringing his hands continuously and the girl from 6 is teasing her lower lip with her teeth so ferociously I'm surprised she hasn't drawn blood. I'm just sitting here taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the gargantuan audience seated before me, slightly envious of how Sandy sits there surveying her nails: Calm, cool and collected. We hear another claxon sound and we know it is showtime, not from the sound but by the way Ceasar transforms before our very eyes: No longer hyping up the audience, he is now the proffessional TV host wearing his trademark smile and his elaborate make up which this year is a violent shade of violet.
"We've seen them sparkle in the tribute parade, we've seen them shine with their training scores but who are the tributes for the 62nd Hunger Games? Well tonight we'll find out." And from there it begins, Ruby is invited to the stage wearing a dress which alludes to he namesake; a form fitting dress which ends mid thigh which seems to be made of thousands of tiny rubies. There was never a question regarding her angle: Sexy but lethal and judging from her training score, accurate. She purrs throughout her interview, which earns a round of raucous applause from the Capitol's male population; she strokes Ceasar's arm and laughs along with his jokes. But then she pulls out her trump card, in an exaggerated motion she crosses her legs so that the material rides up and shows the black lace garter she wears around her thigh; it may have been a coincidence but I doubt it seeing as she was simpering about how she couldn't think about how she could repay the Capitol for their genorosity. She dismounted the stage to thunderous applause, there were no surprises seeing as she is all that the Capitol wants from their tributes: Beautifully deadly.
Nicoli is next, he waltzes onto the stage,waving and basking in the attention: Nicoli could be seen as annoying, but he simply adores the Capitol. Every little aspect as he begins to tell Ceasar with pure enthusiasm; wine, food, fasion, dance, art. Capitol Culture may as well be Nicoli's God. Nikki and Ceasar build a humorous rapport, bantering about the 'it' colours of this season and whether or not Alma Gaugee's latest couture fashion line was a fashion faux pas. The Capitol adore Nicoli, but I knew they would seeing as he is a lot like them: Vain and a little dim but somehow he appears as simply loveable. He blushes as people roar his name and almost faints when Ceasar tell hims that people have been having surgery to get 'Nikki Dimples'; cultured, humble but skilled is the final impression he leaves. Nicoli comes back to his seat, waving at the audience who are screaming his name in what can only be described as utter adoration when he sits down I chuckle when I note his cheeks are a glowing scarlett.
Sandy makes her way to the stage, every step seems to ooze swagger. Not arrogance, a quiet confidence that screams she is ready for this and she is more than capable; I try to take notice, I smile as she answers Ceasar's seemingly endless stream of questions with sarcastic retorts and shrugs her shoulders. She could have appeared rude but she somehow manages to make it humorous and enigmatic; I would of taken more notice but in a matter of minutes I'll be on that stage, my palms begin to get sweaty and I wipe them along my black trousers. Calming breaths, it'll be as easy as talking to Iris or Shine; I hear the applause and then it is my turn to take the stage. I stand up and my legs feel like jelly, I lift my chin and square my shoulders as I walk towards Ceasar. The audience could be screaming my name and I wouldn't know: By now I am standing next to Ceasar, he holds his hand out and I shake it and suddenly the spell is broken. No longer are the audience drowned out, my senses have returned but seem to be hyper focussed, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
My interview begins as though I am following a script. What do you think of the Capitol? Your people are very generous, I enjoy every 'aspect' of what the Capitol has to offer: The amazing training facilities, the food and above all the level of sophistication that seems to elude the Districts. I imagine that after my victory I would enjoy spending more time in this wonderful city.Are you ready for the games, Claude? I have dedicated a long time to preparing myself for the eventuality of enetering and then winning the Hunger Games. I am ready for this, eager; I am extremely proud to have been given the honour of representing my district and I intend the bring glory to my District by winning.
Every word is a lie, I sound like a deranged psychopath: Glorifying the games but it is necessary. It's what the Capitol wants to hear, or is it? The audience are clapping politely, but I could tell I wasn't making as much of an impression as my predecessors. I am a manufactured tribute: Robotic and forgettable and it may be an over exaggeration but I feel as though any hope of victory I once had slipping away like sand through my fingers. I can feel panic clawing at my chest, and I'm not pulled from this pull of despair until I hear the pressure of Ceasar's hand on my arm, I shake my head extremely consciousof the fact I've embarrassed myself thoroughly on national TV. The plactating smile on Ceasar's face just confirms this.
"I was asking Claude, what awaits you at home? Is there a potential Mrs Dew?" He winks and I'm thankful that he is still attempting to help me throughout this torturous process; and I am more than thankful he has given me a question I can answer fully and most likely guarentee me some sponsors at least. It may sound manipulative, but this is the Hunger Games and I must twist anything I can to my advantage and I can only hope Iris forgives me for what I am about to do. Simply thinking of my beloved transforms the cruel leer into a smile, a broad smile. Genuine.
"Yes, Ceasar. My heart has belonged to one for many years, and a few months ago the very same girl accepted my offer of engagement." I can feel the audiences interest igniting like a spark of electricity; maybe this interview as I had anticipated. I struggle to hide me smug grin as the audience create a medley of gasps and coos, Ceasar automatically grasps onto this thread of the conversation as though it is a lifeline; and for me it could be.
"Oh, so you have someone to go home for? Tell us a bit more about this wonderful young woman." There have been tributes in love in the past, they hold the attention of the audience but not for long. I need to take this further if I am to utilize the interview to its fullest; I can tell Ceasar desperately needs an answer and that I have very little time remaining. I take deep breathe, it is time to take caution to the wind.
"Yes, she is beautiful and intelligent. She's all I've ever wanted but she needs me now more than ever because although our child may not need me, she will need me to be there. To help raise my child, to be a father." The bell rings to signal the end of my interview, I shake Ceasar's hand who still looks shocked; it takes a few seconds for the audience to process what I had said and then the screams began the applause, the stamping of feet and I can't keep the smile off of my face as I take my seat. Despite the rather slow start, I am confident to say my interview was a resounding success. Iris may be upset that I've effectively spilled our secret to everyone, but I'm sure she'll forgive me when she realises how pivotal it is to potentially saving my life, essential to ensuring we are eventually reunited.
Kai Thallasa, District 4.
So Claude has resorted to spilling his most intimate secrets and effectively begging for sponsors; Pathetic, and he calls himself a Career? He is weak, and potentially stealing my sponsors with his poorly executed sob story. But that doesn't concern me, his attention seeking ways will only keep in him in the limelight for so long. People remember the best, people wish to sponsor the best and as I've proved with my training score: I am the best, Ruby may have equalled my score but when the time comes I will eliminate her. Sexist or not, she is a weak female and I will overpower her. The 'sympathy' that Claude has created has not only spread throughout the audience like a ripple through the ocean; it has spread like a vicious virus and infected the tributes. Well the tributes who are weak enough to allow something as trivial as his declaration to effect them.
"Oh my.." I turn to see my disgrace of a district partner, dainty hand held against her mouth and tears welling in her vivid green eyes as she thinks about the nondescript boy from 2 and his 'precious baby'. As expected, weak and despicable; allowing her emotions to rule. She may have managed to stand out in the Chariot Rides and embarrass me, she dared to achieve a high training score although I surpassed her easily but she is essentially a weak creature: Physically, and judging by this pointless emotional response to one of her opponents she is also emotionally fragile. These things are good to know, and things can only get worse: When she sees how much the Capitol adore me, how my interview will blow her tiresome facade of hair twirling and pouting her lips out of the water. It will shatter any shred of confidence she has managed to cling to; completely broken and ready for me to play with, to mutilate: To annihalate.
She turns to look at me, tears gone and a smirk on her lips: She winks, I almost lunge at the creature; how dare she have the audacity to wink at me. To try and humiliate me, but I hold onto myself control. I am a career, I am disciplined and will not indulge in trivial mind games with her; to react would imply that whatever this harpy can do it bothers me and frankly it doesn't. Instead I give her a threatening grin, baring my teeth like a savage animal I am tempted to snarl but I hold it back but the unspoken promise remains: Tomorrow morning, the bloodthirsty beast inside of me will become unleashed and this little witch will be dead by my hands. She turns her attention back to the platform, where the ginger girl is taking a seat.
Her interview is nothing worthy of note, but I listen: Somehow, this girl scored an 8 so she may be a threat. All I notice is that periodically she brushes her skirt with her hands and pushes her glasses further up her nose as if she is agitated; as for what she says it seems to be mindless drivel about calculating average training scores and how her score is higher than the average and about cross multiplacation gives you the square pi or something of the other; so she is smart but isn't every tribute from District 3, I may not be a mathematical genius but I devoted my time to learning worthwhile things: Making sure I am equipped with the skills required to become a Victor, what else would you need to learn? All I know is that she hasn't told us how she got that 8, only time will tell and thats only if I don't slaughter her first. Her interview concludes with a polite round of applause and then she reaches forward and straighten Ceasar's tie before leaving the stage briskly but I notice all the tension has fled from her shoulders and she looks a lot more relaxed although her cheeks are tinged with the palest of pinks. Curious.
Up next is Ginger's district partner, I can already feel my attention fading as he awkwardly shuffles onto the stage and fiddles with the sleeve of his electric blue blazer constantly. I would be ashamed to admit this waste of space was representing my district, scrawny and fragile: Where is his honour, his pride? He will perish tomorrow, his life I realise is pointless as I watch him fumble his way through his interview. Thanking the Capitol profusely for their hospitality; thanking them for their genorosity and then mumbling about how different it is from home where he lives in poverty. His feeble attempts to gain sympathy have failed; we all know it as he stumbles from the stage he has secured no sponsors, he has not proven himself to be what the Capitol wants from a Victor. Spineless scum, maybe I will grant him a quick and merciful death at the tip of my spear or maybe not; maybe I will torture him for hours on end for his complete cowardice. Unfortunately I don't have the time to waste on fantasising how I would destroy the pitiful excuse for a tribute from 3 as my very own district partner has stood up.
"Don't trip" I spit at her with as much malice as possible, but maintaining a pleasant expression seeing as I have cameras on me right now; But I feel triumph well in my chest as her smile falters, even if only momentarily. She then plasters on her 'winning' smile and waltzes over to the platform,waving and blowing kisses like the pathetic little girl she is; but somehow the Capitol love it, chanting her name and blowing kisses in return which she mimes catching and presses her hand against her chest. Admitting this leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, but somehow this girl knows how to work an audience but sadly for her, I'm just that much better. She gets onstage, gives the customary 'air kiss' to Ceasar who responds enthusiastically before twirling so that her turquoise chiffon dress lifts into the air gracefully like the foam that floats above the ocean in District 4. The audience clap, screaming in glee as she curtsies: How very Capitol of the little witch? She finally takes her seat but continues to wave and wink at random members of the audience. As soon as the audience quietens down,Ceasar immediately begins with the questions.
"Bala, Bala. First of all you look as wonderful as ever but what we're most curious about is that training score; How did one of our youngest tributes get one of the highest scores?" You could hear a pin drop, this was obviously a source of curiosity for many; myself included, almost every tribute is paying rapt attention. From my view point I can just make out the wicked glint in her eyes, the cheeky smirk and I almost growl: Before she opens her mouth I can tell she won't give Ceasar a straight answer no matter how persistent he may be.
"Oh, Ceasar. You should know that a girl never puts all her cards on the table but I think it is safe enough to say I have a few tricks up my sleeve to keep everyone else on there toes." Ceasar is nodding understandingly and the audience gasp in surprise, but I almost laugh at her cheap tactics: Trying to keep the interest on her for as long as possible seeing as soon as I step foot on that stage everybody else will be forgotten.
"Clever move Bala, so tell us about your life back in District 4 and how it compares to here in the Capitol." A sly smirk makes its way onto my face; what is she meant to say? Me and my witch mother are the most hated citizens in District 4, ha. As soon as the audience realise how despicable she is, any interest will disappear. You can see the question has gotten to her, her eyes are trained on the floor and Ceasar places a comforting hand on her back.
"Sorry Ceasar, everybody. I'm not that popular back home, but maybe that will change if I return as Victor. I can't wait to see the ocean again but I'm praying that somehow I can call the Capitol my home. I love it here, I've tasted popularity and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want a little bit more. I mean, without the Capitol I would never have had the chance to meet my charming districts partner Kai." Any sadness is gone by the time she says my name, replaced by a sarcastic quirk of her lips and a mocking glint in her eyes. She has the audience eating out of her hand and now she is trying to humiliate me: Blind rage sears my veins as she raises her hand to wave at me, but I maintain my emotionless mask. I want to tear her limb from limb but I am on camera, the audience are chuckling along with Bala so I raise my hand and wave back; responding to her little challenge. The laughter dies on her lips and her balls are fisted at her sides. Won't she learn? No matter what she does, she'll never be able to beat me. She storms from the stage, her bubbly exterior beginning to show cracks as she waves. She sits next to me, flushed with obvious anger.
"Please fall." The sickly sweet smile fixed on her face, just in case there are any cameras nearby; I just grin and place what people would perceive to be a friendly hand on her back and I feel the megre muscles she possesses tense in anticipation for an attack. I proceed to give her a few 'friendly'pats on the back but I note how she bites her lips to stop her whimper of pain, her reactions puts a real smile on my face. As I stand up I turn to her.
"Don't worry Bala. I'll show you how it's really done." Before I strut towards the stage, into the spotlight to make sure that everyone across Panem will remember the name Kai Thallasa.
Seraphine Connoly, District 7.
Today has been one of the worst days in my bloody life, I am simply sick and tired of all this bullshit. Why on God's green Earth have they got us prancing around like witless fairies? When all they want is for us to be thrown into the arena and hack one another to pieces like savages; this might sound bloodthirsty but I think it would have been a hell of a lot easier to just throw us into the arena and said be done with it as soon as we stepped off those trains. I mean, why are we bothering to try and sugarcoat it? I mean the hours of 'prep' were pointless; in fact I'd liken today to some prolonged torture seeing as I've ended up in a navy blue dress that is so tight I can hardly breathe and being forced into a 'thong' which I thick resembles some elaborate form of dental floss or bondage gear which has just given me an awful wedgie. I tried to tell my gormless prep team that I didn't give a flying fuck about VPL, but they wouldn't have any of it: The bastards practically held me down, stripped me and forced me into this ugly gown thing that pushes my breasts under my chin and makes me feel as though someoneis trying to squash me so that I throw up a lung or two. This bloody 'beautification process ' is nothing short of sexual assault in my eyes, and grevious bodily harm; If I win, I swear that I'll sue each and every one of them for every penny they are worth.
What's even worse is that twat Kai onstage, if it weren't for me having to exemplify 'Capitol etiquette' I 'd ask someone for a barf bag; Honestly, did they go picking up prostitutes for Careers this year? He babbles on about being the best and training and being the best and the Capitol and how beautiful the women here are, and you've guessed it: Being the best. If his ego were a weapon, we'd all be long gone by now and then he has to take it that bit further; standing up and showing off his biceps. What a dickhead? I mean what is this some messed strip tease, oh God: Let this end now, he is blabbering on about it being hot and unbuttoning the buttons to his shirt but the worst is the way he is staring into the audience in what he must think is a seductive manner: It is too much, I put my fist in my mouth to stop myself laughing at the twat. When his interview comes to an end, thankfully, I have to remain seated although I'd love to fall to my knees and thank whichever deity granted us the small mercy of shutting him the fuck up.
District 5 is next, the girl as expected kind of cried throughout the interview; I mean by the sounds of it, and this is what I managed to gather between the hysterical sobs and pointless pleading, her dad is pretty much about to die. Not a nice thought, but no one is listening; they've written her off but something is telling me she shouldn't be counted out yet: By the sounds of it, she has a lot to fight for and people can do extraordinary things when they have something to fight for. I mean, everyone else: Tribute, audience and even Flickerman look disinterested. I mean is it only me that would rather than listen to her sobbing than that silly bint Ruby? I mean I understand the sexy angle, but what she may as well have done is opened her legs and screamed 'free for all' the dirty bitch. Sadly, she will get sponsored because you can be sure as hell that there are a few sick bastards who'd want her to win for 'personal reasons'. I felt like shouting out: Cut the bullshit Ruby, just tell them you'll have sex with them if they sponsor you, some of these dimwits may not understand your not so subtle implication.
Maybe I have an attention disorder, but I can feel my attention slipping away as the boy from 5 gets onstage with those big grey eyes, there is something creepy about him: Not creepy, but something a little unsettling to say the least. I mean he seem amiable from his talking about healing and working with his mother but my hairs are standing on end as if he is implying something and it isn't until the last line of his interview that I begin to see that this healer boy is about as much of a pacifist as I am a blonde bimbo: "Ceasar, I wouldn't count me out yet: I know the human body well, its weaknesses. How it works and how to exploit it.I haven't taken the Healer's Oath yet so I am not bound to only concern myself with alleviating pain." As I said, creepy and he is on my radar: I mean, for all I know he could turn into one of those crackpots who turn into a cannabilistic serial killer. I shiver, and it isn't cold under this stage lighting whatsoever; Asher tries to catch my eye. Concerned about me as per usual? Annoying doofus, I just shrug my shoulders which seems to appease him: If I can take the time to be dismissive then I must be OK in Asherland.
Next is that little fairyesque girl from 6, Dari or something. Gobsmacked is how she leaves the audience, I would be cheering but I just can't process it; I mean she doesn't try and hide the religious vibe at all and hey I say each to ones own on the concept of religion but I didn't think she's go as far as to ignore the 'interview' element. I mean, it was a 3 minute sermon about The Valley of Shadow and forgiveness and the Lord and God knows what else but absolutely everybody's face was a picture when she told the Capitol she forgives them and she hopes they repent. You hear about tributes going mad, and this girl is one of those or she's courageous but stupid. I don't know anything apart from the fact that the likelihood of her surviving these games is below 0, actually it is the minuses. On the other hand, while Dari couldn't shut up; getting her district partner to speak was like getting blood from a stone. Practically impossible, all he did was shrug his shoulders and give one word answers: It was incredibly awkward watching Ceasar try and bait the brooding boy into actually elaborating on his answers. Once his 3 minutes are up everyone seems to be glad it is over, but I've got an eye on him too: It wouldn't surprise me if he was a ninja and just trying to fade into the background, well that won't be happening on my watch. I feel someone nudging me in the back, I spin my head so fast I am surprised I haven't dislocated something: Asher is nodding towards the platform. Shit, it's my turn.
I stand up and wobble all over the place, I tried to tell my stylist these were a bad idea. Oh fuck it, I slip my stiletto's off and march over to the platform and giggle cheekily when I hold my stiletto's up to the audience who laugh good naturedly while I smile like a complete bimbo. Yay. Ceasar does the shaking of my hand and babbles on about my dress and I bite my tongue: No Sera, you will not tell an icon of Panem to shut up. So, I twirl my hair and give a breathy laugh or whatever it is that girly girls do; I've been on the platform a matter of ten seconds when I think 'screw this'. If I win this, I won't be a simpering twat I'll be Sera. So I'll give them Sera now.
"So Seraphine, what do you think of the Capitol?" Oh, does he want me to give him a truthful answer: Well you all look like twats with stupid hair, the food is good but it is hard to be excited when you're all gagging for me to be raised like a pig to slaughter or turn into a killing machine. Somehow I don't think that would come across well so maybe an entirely truthful answer wouldn't be the best solution.
"Oh Ceasar, I was really enjoying training. Beating the hell out of dummies was cathartic to say the least but somehow I ended up almost drowning in the stupidly large ego's of some of my fellow tributes: Namely the arrogant berk Kai and his little skank...Ruby is it? Or some other ridiculous name like Dazzle or Peridot." My response actually causes quite a stir, mutterings and even draws a few laughs. Ceasar looks a little shocked while he tries to collect his wits, I don't think there is a time in Hunger Games history when the interviewer was rendered speechless.
"Oh Sera, you've got a great score but it may not be the wisest move to ruffle other tributes feathers." He is laughing along but I know he is trying to paint me as some mentally handicapped tribute so I wave my hand at him. I swivel around and grin when I see both Kai and Ruby glaring at me, their faces puce from anger and embarrassment: Careers don't seem as calm and collected now. I just give them a salute and you can practically hear their teeth grinding: Idiots.
"Don't worry about me Ceasar, I'm a big girl and I did promise you a good show after all: The way I look at it, they can glare as much as they like cause I'm not going to walk on egg shells cause they will try and kill me either way." The audience are laughing like lunatics, loving the 'drama' of it as much as an addict loves their morphling fix. Well, it can't get much worse can it: At least I may get some sponsors. Ceasar is trying to calm down the audience who seem to be screaming my name, Kai and Ruby. Well, I did say I would be the shows leading lady: Mission accomplished.
"Seraphine, we only have a few seconds left is there anything you'd like to say?"
"Oh, only that being ginger; I have a soul, but unfortunately I have fair skin. I'm pretty sensitive to sunlight,so if any generous sponsors out there wouldn't mind sending me some sunscreen I'd be eternally grateful. I mean, I wouldn't mind getting a nice tan because a tanned Victor is a lot better than one who resembles a lobster." I wink toward the audience, before throwing my stilletto's to a teenager in the front row: Maybe she'll be able to find a use for them other than as a deathtrap. Sera the Sarcastic, I'll have that put on my gravestone but as I make my way back to the seat I can't squish the feeling of hope inside of me that I won't end up in a grave any time soon.
I'm off out, so I left it here: Next chapter will be last night/lauch and the rest of the interviews. :D I'll update soon :)