(Pairs on front page!)Vindictus Publici [Revenge of the People] (A Hunger Games RP by Abeiya and CS123)

((Hey guys, I'm sorry I haven't been posting. I was gone for a few days. I read the stuff I missed, but I'm a little lost. If someone could quickly just give a brief summary of things that have happened, that'd be awesome! just so i make sure i'm on the same page. thanks and sorry again...))

Peeta and Katniss

Peeta was watching every twist and turn the reapings were taking closely, absorbing the details, and planning his next move. He had to win over the crowd and calm them before the reapings turned into a full on riot. Violence from the anti-games movement members was the last thing they needed. He looked down at Katniss who had taken over the care of Acacia. Katniss looked at him expectantly, like she believed that he could stop the games then and there. Unfortunately Peeta wasn't a god, and as much power he had over the people, there was only so much that the people could do right now. He had put all his hopes into Katniss getting through to Gale and stopping the games while they had the chance.

"How did it go?" Peeta asked her. Katniss shook her head.

"Not so well. I was so close to getting through to him, but he ordered me off the hovercraft before I could get him to stop with this idiotic campaign against the Capitolites." Katniss replied. This made Peeta smirk a little, despite the inappropriate time.

"You never used to be one for taking orders." Peeta teased. Katniss rolled her eyes at her husband affectionately. They were both silent for a moment, and this gave Peeta the time to appreciate the closeness that he and Katniss had developed. He had never stopped relying on Katniss, and her fire. So in turn Peeta did everything he could to be there for his wife, despite his tracker jacker outburts, though they had almost become none existent in recent years. Not only that, but it was nice to have someone to share your nightmares. The moment passed, and Peeta let out a sigh.

"I should have gone up with you. Maybe then I could have done some-" Peeta began, but was quickly cut off.

"No. You know how Gale is. Seeing you there would have only pissed him off. You two have hardly ever seen eye to eye." Katniss interjected, not wanting her husband to take the blame for her own failure. "Plus, it is my fault. If only I had stayed a little longer, maybe I could have stopped this." She added, but Peeta shook his head in disagreement.

"You did everything you could Katniss. I'm just glad that you didn't get escorted down with armed guards." Peeta replied in an almost too serious tone, taking his wife's hand. "And we both knew that there was only a very slim chance that changing Gale's mind would have changed anything. This goes a lot deeper than Gale's personal vendetta against the Capitol." He finished. Katniss nodded in agreement. It would take much more than a private hovercraft chat to stop these games. These games are only just beginning.

"After all of the tributes are called I'll go up and give a little speech. It shouldn't be too hard, since I volunteered to be a Mentor." Peeta promised.

"Maybe I should go up with you and say something as well." Katniss suggested.

"No, it would raise too many suspicions if we both went up. Plus, you've done your part for the day. If you appear and give a speech as well, it will make our cause seem desperate." Peeta replied, logically. Katniss was about to interject but Peeta continued. "More importantly, your friend needs you right now." he said and motioned to Acacia. Katniss nodded, although she wasn't entirely pleased with sitting back.

Both Katniss, and Peeta noticed Cinna's question. Peeta knelt down by his son and put his hand on the boy's head. "They're going to try and kill them, but Arthur, and all of the rest of us are going to try and make sure nothing bad happens to Oleander and the rest of the children up there. In fact, daddy is going to go up there and tell everybody that they shouldn't hurt each other right now. Everything will be fine Cinna. Mommy and daddy are here to protect you, and Oleander and all of the other kids in Panem." Peeta told his son, aware that many of these things were promises that he couldn't keep. But he would do his best to be true to his son. Peeta kissed his son on the forehead. "I love you Cinna." He said, stood up, and began heading for the crowd so he could start making his way closer to the stage. he stopped by Katniss, and kissed her. For a moment they could feel each other, and the world stopped. There were no worries about the games. It was a short kiss and the pair split apart. "I love you." Peeta told her.

"I love you too." Katniss replied.

Peeta entered the crowd of people, and headed for the stage, leaving his family behind, but keeping them close in his heart.

Two very strong, muscled people approached behind Maia, both wearing a Mockingjay tattoo on their arms. Maia then whispered to them, "Watch him, he's already up there! Get him."As she commanded them, they ran after Peeta, guns ready and loaded. After they both left, she got onto the hovercraft that was waiting for her and flew off. Doku stayed with the Mockingjay's family as commanded as well, making sure not to lose sight of Cinna.

((I'm BAAAAAAAAAACCCCCKKKK! Thank you, N13 for covering my characters while I was gone. ))

Zane

Zane watched as Peeta Mellark started to make his way toward the stage. Zane really hoped that Peeta could succeed where Katniss had obviously not. From what he remembered in history class, Peeta had usually been the better speaker in the past. Hopefully he was still as persuasive as he has once been.

Amira

Amira stared out at the crowd with blank eyes. She vaguely saw her sobbing parents, but she couldn't distinguish them from anyone else in the crowd because everywhere she looked, Amira saw Liam. He was there, and he was all that she could focus on. It was almost as if he was beckoning her to go with him.

Liam reached a ghostly hand out toward Amira, and he put his hand on her shoulder. This uncommon feeling made Amira jump. Liam normally kept a little bit of distance. But he touched her and she felt it. Maybe this really was a sign that she should have died instead of him.

(As you can see they didn't need much taking care of. ^^' Sorry I didn't post any Liam grieving posts.)

Arthur watched from his position as Peeta began to approach the stage, the crowd practically parting for him to get through. Arthur never expected Katniss to succeed, he suspected that even Katniss believed there wasn't much she could do to change the president's mind. Still there was a fleeting hope that she could have done something. But despite being the Mockingjay, Katniss was only one person, and seeing the expression on Peeta's face, it seemed like there was nothing he could do. Arthur's heart sank a little, and he allowed himself to feel a little helpless at the fact that he'd been chosen for the Capitol games. Even though he was aware of his duties to both Peeta, and Panem, he was still afraid that he would fail, either by his own death, or the death of another. He could not allow a single casualty in these games.

As the weight of his duties pressed down upon him Arthur noticed something in the crowd, and narrowed his eyes on two guards.

___

As Peeta moved towards the stage the eyes of many of the people of the crowd were on him, most of them seemed to be the family and friends of those already reaped. They looked at him as if he was their last hope of survival, like they expected him to fix everything that Gale was doing. Peeta wouldn't dare to look them in the eye, because he knew, as well as those behind these Capitol Games that there wasn't a thing he could do to stop them with one speech. But he could give the people hope, and maybe convince some of the tributes to work together.

"Peeta, you've got two armed guards tailing you" Peeta's earpiece buzzed with the sound of Arthur's voice. Peeta's attention turned to Arthur who was speaking into the microphone installed on his lapel. Peeta lifted his wrist to his mouth.

"You shouldn't be using this line so liberally. We only talk during emergencies." Peeta replied, frustrated with his apprentice.

"I know that, but these guys don't seem like your regular Peacekeepers. Try and lose them in the crowd." Arthur replied, attempting to justify his intentions. Peeta was honestly thankful for this advice, but he was worried that Arthur would give them away to easily if he pulled stunts like this in front of all of Panem. Regardless, Peeta pieced together a plan. If he could get to the rioters it would be no problem at all to rile them up enough to keep the guards from getting past. Peeta sped up his stride, and continued towards the stage.

The guards sped up as well, not sparing a second to notice Arthur. Then one of the guards
whispered into their ear phone for backup. Five more guards, just as buff and with the same tattoo on their arms, ran out of the door behind Amira's sobbing parents. Two of the guards started towards Arthur as the other three went after Peeta. Kakseu noticed what Arthur was doing and gave him a look like he was messing something important up. She had hoped that someone from the Capitol wouldn't mess with the guards sent to protect Peeta or the speech that Peeta might make, and was astonished that Arthur would do just that.

((and at last, i am here to own the show on until i leave for vacation))

Apparently oblivious to what was going on in the crowd, the announcer continued calling up the next tributes. Reaching into the jar of names, he pulled out a single piece of paper.
Taking a deep breath, he softly spoke the next tribute into his microphone.

"And the next tribute will be...... Eilane Down."

He know she would be chosen but held had held out in the hope that she would get lucky. Now, after a visual nod from her Mother standing next to her, Eilane approached the platform with trepidation. She knew there would be other tributes who tried to fight, tried to get out of this working together as one. She was not one of these people. As far as Eilane was concerned, there was only one person she needed to worry about in the games, and that was herself.

((note: originally eilane was deaf and blind but i decided to give her her eyes back))

As the announcer watched Eilane approach the platform, his sympathy was short lived. In an attempt to speed up the process, he drew the next name before Eilane had reached the other tributes. He prepared to quickly announce the name, but, upon reading the name, ended up saying it with a bit of confusion.
"Our next male tribute will be Gruffy.... McDuff?"

The only one that seemed to notice was Gruffy, who made his way to the stage in a clearly overzealous display of muscle, apparently taking no notice of the fact that almost no one in the crowd was paying attention to him. He was, as usual, thinking absolutely nothing.

Seeming to become bored with the drawings, the announcer sped through the next tribute. He drew quickly, and upon seeing the name Suf Jaw felt the short sting of regret at the thought of calling up the well liked artist. Nevertheless, he was compelled to.

Reaching the platform, there was no discernible emotion breaching Suf Jaw's calm complexion. In the month's since he had painted that unflattering picture of President Gale's guards beating a hobo, he knew it would end like this.

Meanwhile, Peeta began to slow his approach to the stage as he swerved through the crowd to avoid the guards and waited for the last tributes to be called to the stage. he knew it was all in vain, but there was no way he could just sit by and let this happen.

Ariadne stood calmly on the stage, as she watched the other tributes being called up. She also watched Peeta trying to make his way upstage and cutting through the crowd. Being upstage, you can see almost everything. Surely Peeta could be able to do something, and she hoped he would be able to make it onstage. She also watched the guards following him. Ariadne was hoping deep inside that Peeta wouldn't get caught, that he would make it onstage, and stop all this.

Zane glanced at the other tributes. So many of them seemed so calm and prepared for this. It would make more sense if there was some sort of emotion. Any emotion. But the only thing that he noticed was blank stares and smiling. Smiling? Were these people crazy?

He stared at his feet as the next three tributes came up. Watching everyone's trek up to the stage was too hard. He couldn't look at everyone without seeing some sort of image of them being dead.

-----

Norma looked at the next three tributes with distaste. At least the Capitol would be cleared of that deaf girl. It was such a pain when someone had to talk to her since she couldn't hear anything. And Gruffy McDuff. Ugh. Don't even get Norma started on that one. But Suf Jaw. He was just another blemish on the almost perfect reputation of that Capitol. And all of them were so poorly dressed! Norma rolled her eyes at them.

Damir

Damir kept all emotion from his face, as he'd been conditioned to do as a Capitol Peacekeeper. But he could not keep from seeing his fellow tributes around him, could not begin to feel the poison twisting in his stomach at the thought of all their shortened lives. He did not want to consider how desperate their fights would become. He refused to allow the luxury of hope creep into his thoughts, a deadly toxin that promised to crush him later. He was certain that neither the Mockingjay nor her influential husband could do a thing to change the minds of the greater Capitol powers. He despised his home for their injustices, and would fight with all he had to end them. However, he knew fully their power, especially as he watched the girl who had been wrongfully punished approaching the stage. He'd seen what they could do.

Crumbling beneath them was not an option. But at this moment, it seemed the most likely outcome.

Blaze

Blaze kept her gaze straight ahead, briefly considering her fellow tributes as they arrived at the stage. Eilane seemed like a strong opponent, and Gruffy seemed oddly... off. Not mentally present, or single-minded. His muscles seemed unlikely from simply exercise, even on a Capitol citizen. He didn't seem difficult to defeat. Nor did the artist. She was givin in, and she knew it. She was not arrogant, she never wanted to become proficient at the skills that her parents had driven her to try, but she was... she didn't want to disappoint them, even now.

No, no, no, no! She could not give in this easily. She couldn't. It wasn't her nature, she knew that. She would hide and never let them find her, and then possibly survive. What would it matter what her parents thought of her? They'd always pushed their own agendas on her... and she'd always complied. Perhaps she should take a stand now. Be kind, passive, elusive.

But she knew in her heart that those were the moves that would get the fireblasts sent straight for her in the Games.

Helena

Trainer after trainer, re-affirming the images in her mind. She saw the violent tributes, saw their horrible actions toward her, felt the burning desire for revenge. The bathing and the styling didn't even register to her, where she had felt nearly violated before. But Helena before had been sucked away by labratory-altered insect venom. What was left was a shell, being filled with the desires of a once-scorned woman.

Helena caught one unclear glimpse of her body in the mirror... groomed to her absolute best, wearing the most up-to-date style of dress, her choppy hair in an elegant updo, her skin entirely free of blemishes, her makeup colorful and complementary (sp?) to her eyes, hair, and skin.

Her eyes were void of all comprehensible emotion. Rather, they were filled with instability of her actions, the uncertainty of the chemicals changing her mind. Swiftly, she had been destroyed and reborn into the creature that woman had wanted, prepared for a veangeful Gamemaker's bidding, a predator ready for her prey.

((Hola, all. CS123 and I would like to let you all know that the roleplay will be taking a timeskip from the reaping to the training and preparation stage of the Games. If this is too quick for anyone, we would not be opposed to taking it back a few steps or slow it down. Thanks. ;D))

Gale sat in his office in the Senate building of the Capitol. The Games had transitioned and apart from a few mildly violent protests, it had all gone fairly smoothly. Peacekeepers constantly accompanied the President, as his idea was not gaining any popularity. He clung to the hope that presenting all of the tributes would change the public's view of him. Perhaps they would become enamored with the tributes, just as the generations before did. Maybe they would warm up the idea that this was all light-hearted entertainment.

Take nothing back...

There was a thin sheen on sweat on his brown and his stomach churned. His PR agent had convinced him to stay away from the alcohol for the time being. It was killing him to even try and function normally. It was all just coming together like a perfect nightmare. He inhaled deeply and swallowed whatever bile desired to claw its way up his throat. He slid a cellphone out from his desk and called the Head Gamemaker.

-----

Starlight had been poked and prodded by stylists all day. They had tugged at her hair and rubbed her skin smooth, but it felt raw. She had to fight with them to let her keep her tattoo. They all chattered and insisted it was an eyesore, but she would not be moved. The waxing was not as brutal as she had anticipated, but it was still far from pleasant.

She began referring to the stylists as Them. They all had complicated and flourished names and she couldn't trouble herself with remembering them or asking Them to repeat themselves. Them 1 was male, Thems 2 and 3 were female. Them 1 held her jaw, turning her head gently from side to side, appraising her. "What can be polish you to become?" he mused.

-----

Clarisse had a long talk with her stylists, explaining to them about what she wanted to be for the public. Her mentor had been of little help deciding which qualities would be exploited for the cameras. This left a lot of responsibility on her stylists for creating her persona.

"I've got this wolf thing going..." she was explaining, pointing to her teeth with her talon-like nails.

"I see. Well, dear, you're so tiny that I'm not sure how far we can push that angle for you, but a fox..."

Another stylist chimed in, "Oh yes! Tiny and cunning."

The third murmured, "You'll want to play it safe, won't you? Don't be predatory. Be a deer... All big eyes and innocence. I bet you will play well your part..."

Clarisse pursed her lips. It might be worth it.

((So far, our pairs for tributes are:

Amira/Damir

Zane/Blaze

Norma/Norman))

Please send me a PM if you have any preferences as to whom you wish your character to be paired with. Feel free to exchange ideas with others as well.))

Katniss

Katniss had almost been tempted to take up Gale's habit with this week, but she knew that would be against all good judgment. She had been trying to get contact with him again ever since the day of the reaping, but he'd heightened security so greatly, and managed to keep himself almost entirely out of the public eye, except for the "necessary" public venues required of the President during the Hunger Games.

She was still just as horrified and disgusted with him as she had been when he announced the idea of the Games. But she was also greatly concerned. Up there, in his Hovercraft, she discovered that buried deep within this new, manipulative world leader was the young man she'd known many years ago. And she was sure, that if she could just meet with him again, she could dig once more, and perhaps stop these Games from going any further.

The former Mockingjay had her own personal team of guards, as she roamed the city with a phone in hand, continuing her forceful calls attempting to contact the President. Today, she planned on seeing him. She would get to him once more. She would not fail again...

Blaze

The routine of the stylists was all-too-common for Blaze. They gossiped and giggled and praised her for her calm, and her allowance of their every whim. It didn't matter what they made her look like. That they took her flaming hair and deftly braided it into a version Katniss Everdeen's classic style, with a few fiery strands framing her face, light grey contacts clouding her bright green eyes. Her slinky, iridescent dress echoed the "smouldering" look of the Mockingjay in her second Hunger Games. She couldn't help but think of how pleased her parents would be to see her like this...

Strategy, Blaze... think strategy...

Image was such a significant part of the Hunger Games. How would she convey her image? What was her image, save for Katniss-wannabe? That was not ever her intention...

"My... I just love your hair, Blaze. It's simply beautiful. You look incredible," her head stylist marveled. In the mirror, a fierce and fiery, strong and even regal, woman, stared back at her. It was almost cliche. She knew this would be the last time she would see herself in this way.

If she chose the strategy she wished to commit to. Or maybe she would fight. Fight valiantly for the lives of those she would grow to love. As the real Katniss Everdeen would.

Damir

The experiences with the stylists had likely been some of the most uncomfortable ones that the young Peacekeeper had ever encountered. It was nothing like the brutal Peacekeeping training, nor like dreary hospital practices. It was something else entirely. The scrutiny, the careful application of makeup and the like... it was its own unique brand of humiliation. He wished that this was not a time in the Games that took as long as it did. He had never tried this hard with his appearance, and frankly, it seemed very unnecessary. Why would they try to present him to the public as anything more or less than he was?

He could only hope that the stylists were gentler, and less obnoxious, with his partner. The girl appeared to be the quietest and most reserved of all the tributes. He knew, in all certainty, that she would be the one he would most protect in the Games. Not because the Capitol had thrown them together, but because he knew her somehow... he'd seen her, as he patrolled the city. Outside of one of the schools. Even within one of the schools. They had attended classes together, for at least a year... She was very kind, in spite of her shyness. He felt an overwhelming urge to keep her out of harm's way. He never wanted to see her hurt, for he felt as though she'd experienced enough pain in her own life. If he could, he would ensure, even if it meant the end of his own life, that she would make it out of the Games.

Helena

Helena was the pride of her stylists. Restrained, collected, and now on perfect behavior with them, save for a few tremors, she had been primped into the ideal tribute. She knew all the right words. She knew all the right moves. She was dressed and trained and brainwashed to impress, to steal the entire Games. And that was her intention. All she reviewed in her mind were the images imprinted within. The others had not seen much of Helena since the reaping, but all had been assured of her safety. She seemed perfect while in the spotlight. So very controlled, where she had once been a fiery mockingjay of rebellion and passion.

She had rage and passion now, but all was programmed... all within the shell of Helena was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode, and decimate every Tribute the second the Games began.

Phylicia

Phylicia was extremely pleased to see her plans finally, neatly unfolding right before her eyes. The Games promised to be quite a theatrical set, and each pairing would create the optimum amount of drama. She watched on her many security screens, each and every tribute being groomed to perfection.

A rather large and sinister smirk of satisfaction came upon her face, even as the President began to call her. Even his desperate presence could not bring her down from the heights of this day.

"Phylicia Feidelm speaking," she greeted.

Zane

Zane was having issues with the stylists poking and prodding at him. They kept asking him questions about how he would like to be dressed, but to be honest, Zane didn't care what he looked like on that stage. He just didn't want to be covered in makeup. Though it would probably be unavoidable, Zane would try to stay away from the makeup.

Apparently the stylists were trying to make him and his partner look like Katniss and Peeta during their second Hunger Games. Zane wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

Amira

Amira didn't say or do much when the stylists were combing through her long, blondish hair or when they were deciding what makeup would best complement her skin tone. She just sat there quietly and endured all of it. No matter what she said, the stylists probably wouldn't listen anyway.

The only thing that made Amira want to cry and scream and stop all of this was the fact that Liam was quietly standing in a corner. Why should she be getting pampered? Why did he have to watch and make Amira's insides knot up with guilt.

"Alright," said one of the stylists, admiring the fancy twist that had become Amira's hair. "We need to find the perfect outfit for you.

A mirror was held up for Amira to look at herself so far. She barely even recognized herself. Her hair looked perfectly windswept, and there were a few red and orange tinted leaves in her hair to make it look like Amira had just stepped out of a crisp autumn day.

Her makeup was light, but the leaves made it stand out much more. She didn't look like the girl who kept to herself. Like the girl who couldn't bear to be near too many people. Like the girl who had let her brother die. She looked completely different.

As Amira was thinking about that, one of the stylists came out with the outfit that Amira was supposed to wear.

She didn't pay very much attention to it until she felt something foreign and yet familiar all at the same time wrap around her neck. Looking down, Amira saw it. It was a mixture of yellows, reds, oranges, golds, all sorts of autumn colors.

But there was one scarf that stood out in Amira's mind. It was bright red. Knitted. Knitted to perfection. With love. It got stuck in a tree. It never got unstuck.

Liam was right in front of her, glaring at the scarf. He looked like he wanted to rip it off, but Amira did that herself before he got the chance. The silky smooth scarf flowed to the floor and landed in a graceful heap.

Amira ran out of the room, sobbing. She heard people yelling at her, chasing after her, but she didn't stop to listen. She just ran and ran until she didn't hear people following her anymore. Then Amira collapsed at the end of the hallway.

Why would they do this? Why? What was the point other than to torture her?

((DONE!!!!))

Eilane

For the first time in her life Eilane was glad she had lost her hearing. Three nobodies picked at her face and body all the while attempting to initiate a conversation with her - unaware that she could not hear them. But she would not bother to tell them about it. Instead she would rather allow them to believe that she was only capable of completely ignoring them all. She could only hope that, when she looked down, her outfit would not be as hideous as the other tributes she has seen.

[b]Gruffy][b/]
Gruffy walked into his dressing room to great the three men. They introduced themselves as one, two, and Mark: the first two clearly attempting to disguise their true names for reasons only known to them. Gruffy sat in the chair in the center of the room, facing the miror on one side of the room. Approaching Gruffy, One cut straight to the chase.

"Okay Gruffy, clearly we are going to have a lot of work to do to make you presentable to the rest of the nation."

Mark then took over, "Okay son, we're going to start with those eyelashes. They must be cut down."

As he began to pluck the stray lashes, Gruffy reacted with an overzealous show of anger. Reaching forward he grabbed Marks hands and shoved him against the wall. Within seconds peacekeepers were all over him. Gruffy zoned out all but hime and the peacekeepers; left jab, uppercut, right jab, over and over again....
------
Unbeknownst to him, a third peacekeeper crept up behind Gruffy. Acting quickly with bear tranquilizers, the peacekeeper stabbed Gruffy in the back.
------
Gruffy turned back. The new guard had hurt him and now the world was slowly going dark. He lurched forward, going for the guard's neck but fell on the guard two feet short. Now darkness...

Kakseu was lead into a room of the 10 designers each with the most bizarre looks she'd ever seen. As soon as they saw her walk in they began to work: plucking, sculpting, dressing, painting, and even reshaping her body structure. Putting beautiful magenta sculpted makeup on her face, complemented with a spiraling hairdo that loosely cascaded down in front of her shoulder and colored a dreamy, cloudy pink. One of the designers finally got out her spectacular dress. It was a gorgeous gown made to look like spiraling pink, fluffy clouds going around a magnificent gold and silver tinted mocking jay fashioned dress sporting fiery colors, almost making her look as if she were on fire. But through all of the excessive plucking and sculpting, she didn't move at all – well, only if the stylists told her too. She was finally finished with a Capitol bird on the top of her staircase shaped hair and a few adjustments to her hip and breast size. Then they let her see herself in the mirror. Kakseu's face was covered with her now perfect smile. She then shouted to the stylists in her now soft, perky voice, "I look amazing! Thank you all...I'm sure to win now!" Then the stylists covered her new, amazingly styled jewelry, making her look even more beautiful than before.

Foliage

Foliage felt himself being led into the room, the soft, thin carpet that cushioned his path begining to look peppered with small chunks of some sort of chrome-y, clean surface. He wondered numbly what material it was. It was the only thing he would allow himself to think, silently following the blurry mass in front of him that he could only assume was a stylist of some sort. Maybe titanium. A thoroughly polished titanium. The narrow hallway suddenly opened up on all sides, and Foliage guessed they had entered some kind of large, startingly shiny room. Blurry vision was a pain. But it wasn't so much of his eyesight that kept him guessing...not as much as the distant feeling that had overcome his body. Like he was watching someone else try to grasp with the situation he had been so coldly closed into, a person who was probably feeling something, but he didn't know for sure. Because it wasn't him. It was just another tribute that was described in a chapter of one of his history books. A small voice in the corner of his head told him this was called denial.

The small voice was ignored.

The tiny "clack"ing of the woman's towering heels stopped clattering on the now entirely new, silver surface, which had seemingly consumed the carpet that Foliage had examined earlier. The stylist who had been leading him turned around tipped his head up with her soft, perfect hands and squinted hard into his eyes. They darted about his face, seemingly examining every flaw that his mother never had let doctors erase. His vision might have been blurry, but the pang of pity that shot off the stylist's face still struck him, leaving a stinging sensation in his chest.

"He sure is going to have a tough time with you. Well, straighten up, child. You're going to be in here for a few hours." She tilted his head slightly to the left and shook her own. "Tsk...you look like you havn't had corrective surgery in years...if I were the one who was dolling you up, thi-"

A loud, earth-moving noise echoed through the room, and a new voice, sort of aged yet filled with energy, approached Foliage and the stylist from somewhere he couldn't see. A gasp, almost as loud as the booming noise from before, was the first thing that he heard. "ACRINE! The poor thing looks as plain as a newborn bird! Oh, just look at him!" The comments seemed sort of mean, but there was so much pity in his voice... "Dear, I think he's just perfect in a sad, little way, don't you?

((Will finish later tonight. Stay tuned.))

((Void.))

Brittastic Phylicia

"President Hawthorne! What is this language you are attempting to speak to me? Why, your words are quite foul! And where on earth did such an appalling idea regarding my sanity originate? Such a thought is simply preposterous! Are you intoxicated? I no longer feel obligated to inform you of my intentions in regards to the tributes, for your vocabulary inspires much doubt in your ability to process such significant information!

((Abbey's skype reading of this has inspired me to post this. I will likely finish this post in a rather serious manner this evening, for it is quite early in the morning...))

Ariadne was directed into a large room, dressing room. There, she was greeted by three stylist, all of them were dressed with flamboyance. One of them, with very bright platinum blonde hair and lots of blue make-up came up to her and examined her structure.

"What a simplistic looking one," she commented, "Maybe we can do something to make you look more... vivid." She gestured at the other two, and the three of them went to work on Ariadne. She didn't really care what the stylist made her look like as long as they didn't make her look ridiculous with tons of make-up and colors.They went to waxing her entire body and fixing her brows. Thankfully, they didn't have to do much waxing on her legs, since she frequently shaved.

They started on her make-up first; they applied a rather heavy liquid liner and made it wing out of the corner of her eye, synthesizing her eye shape. They gave her a dark shade of red around her lid and it gradually diffused to a warmer shade of orange, which brought out brightness in her eyes. They even emphasized her skin color, making it seem more tan. They curled her black hair and braided a few strands, but kept her bangs straight and side-swept. They gave her sparkling jewelery of sunstone and diamonds

After what seemed like forever to Ariadne, they dressed her in a long bright red gown. She thought the stylist actually did a good job fixing her up, and she especially liked the dress, it wasn't too flashy or complex. It was as simple as she was. Her sleeves rested just on the end of her shoulders and it had some silver embellishments. Her bodice was embroidered and followed the wrap around design. Finally, her skirt felt airy and was layered with a slit, exposing one of her legs. Ariadne couldn't recognize herself at first when she glanced into the mirror. She looked different; she seemed confident, brave and fierce. She thought this would fit her strategy she had been thinking about during the Reaping. Ariadne thought it would be best if she seemed strong and fearless, maybe no one would go after her first. As Ariadne looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but noticed a strand of curled hair that was highlighted from orange at the top,to red at the very tip of the strands.

"That's a little souvenir for you while you're in that Arena," said the stylist she first met that she came to know as Venus.

Another stylist commented on her work, "You are so beautiful my dear," Ariadne smiled. "You remind me of the sun."

"Actually, more like a phoenix," said another stylist, a male. Ariadne's smile widened and she felt flustered.

"Thanks," Ariadne smiled, "You all did a really great job and I appreciate it." She actually enjoyed the stylist company. She didn't say much, not wanting much to be in that situation anyway, but she just listened. They just talked on and on about random things that it actually relaxed her a bit and took her mind of off thinking about the Games. But soon, that would all change.

Suf Jaw

Suf Jaw was ushered into a well lit room by two colorful men and a stick-like woman. The men where the first to introduce themselves, or rather each other, as Char and Mar, identical twins all the way down their matching neon clothing. As they began to wax the hair from Suf Jaw's body in silence, the woman began cutting his hair. Later introducing herself as Sheryl, she struck Suf Jaw as a woman who was altogether too susceptible to peer pressure, for she was covered in studs of varying shapes and sizes.

As they continued on to dressing him, Sheryl began to open up to Suf Jaw. She had seen his works around the capitol and was a big fan of the paintings. Suf Jaw listened intently as she told him of how she had admired his works for hours at a time back when she was a still a child. By the time she had finished speaking about her fondness for his paintings, they had finished dressing him and he was finally allowed to turn to the mirror and see the results after what had seemed like both five minutes and two hours.

The person he saw in the mirror was nothing like his old self. He would almost consider himself handsome in a mundane way. He was dressed in ragged clothes making him appear like a hobo in one of his own works, the only difference was, rather than looking shabby and rancid, he looked strong willed and so clean you could eat off him.

"We really wanted you to represent what you really became famous for," Sheryl explained, "We wanted you look poor but not so much that people would not want to donate for your cause. You will get the pity of all the men and women of the capitol and everywhere! Do you like it?"

He more than liked it. For once he may have actually had hope of making it out of this mess alive...

As Pepper was being done over by his stylists, he smiled to himself. He already knew how to treat them, learning it from his Uncle. And it didn't bother him so much the process. The only thing that bugged him was that he was being done over for the Games.

Pepper fought a shiver, but he didn't think his team would notice too much since he was naked.

As he was being dressed he notice he slightly looked like his Uncle. Was this done on purpose? It would only hate the Districts hate him more, but might spark pity on the Capitol citizens maybe. Pepper shook his head. It didn't matter.
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Rue was uncomfortable as she stood naked before three girls. She was relieved to see they were all girls. But the way they were treating her and talking, it was all unsettling for her.

"You're so pretty," the orange skinned one said. Her name was Darlce. The other two, one covered in rainbow stripes and one with various tattooes were called Isslya and Uni. Strange names, but at least Rue was use to that part.

When they began to cut her hair, Rue almost cried. The trio exchanged looks, but nodded.

"No cutting," Isslya said. Instead they braided it with pink ribbons and flowers.

"Just like a precious bud. Valuable, but full of potential. You blossom out there, okay?"

Rue blushed and nodded.
-------
Oleander tried to ignore what his stylists were doing. It didn't matter to him. He kept wanting to cry, but he knew he couldn't let himself. Only this wasn't right. He shouldn't have been choosen. But here he was. A lamb being dressed up for slaughter.

"Barbaric," he muttered, not caring if his stylists heard. He kept his eyes shut for the whole thing.
-------
Dawn was enjoying herself, chatting it up with her team. They were doing their best to make her look 'fierce' so that even though she was young and "shy" the others would know that she shouldn't be messed with.

Dawn knew they were right.

Zane

Zane wasn't sure how the other Tributes were doing with their stylists, but he hoped that they were having as crappy a time as he was. Sure, everything had started out alright, but they stylists kept complaining about how they could not find the outfit for him to wear for the interviews. It didn't suit his bone structure, it clashed with his hair style, there was always something wrong with how he looked. This was getting ridiculous, and both Zane and the stylists were beginning to shoot dirty looks at one another.

Finally, one of them had the brilliant plan to dress him up first, then redo his hair. Suddenly 'everything' fell together perfectly. The stylists thought he looked presentable enough to pass as a mini Peeta, and he was happy to be done with their poking and prodding.

Amira

Amira was not yet done crying when she felt some strong hands pick her up by the arms. She struggled to turn and see who had picked her up, but all she saw was Peacekeeper uniforms. Her struggling stopped; Amira knew it was hopeless to try to get out of their grasp. Or try to get away from being made up for the interviews again.

She was shown back into the dressing room where her three stylists stood, looking impatient, and a little bit sorry.

With minimum dialogue, the stylists redid Amira's hair and makeup, erasing the tear streaks and red eyes she had from crying, and making her hair look once more like it hadn't been through a windstorm. Once her hair and makeup were done, Amira put on a dress that matched the colors of the scarf. However, the scarf had not made another appearance.

The stylists had Amira take a look at herself in the mirror, and as she turned to look at herself, Amira noticed one thing that she didn't like about the dress. Anyone could see Liam's name tattooed in big letters on her left shoulder blade. The leaves going up and down the straps of the dress did a good job of hiding part of the letter 'L', but the rest of the tattoo was very visible unless Amira managed to keep her hair over it, which she decided would be impossible.

When Amira voiced this, they stylist told her that they were not going to change her outfit. "You have a very beautiful tattoo, and I think it should be showed off." The note in the stylist's voice made it clear to Amira that this was final. Part of her couldn't really blame the stylist, but the other part wanted to scream. The world didn't need to know about Liam and what had happened to him! She knew that there would be questions asked if anyone-- especially the interviewer-- saw Liam's name on her back. This would not be good.

((Reminder: s a note to everyone here, you're doing great, but please keep in mind that you only control the characters which you wrote profiles for. We'd like to keep the God-modding down, unless you obtain specific permission from another roleplayer that you can use their character. Thanks!

Current Tribute Pairs:

Kakesu/Foliage

Blaze/Zane

Amira/Damir

Norma/Norman; Don't forget to get your requests into me or Abeiya and the other RPers!))

Damir

The young peacekeeper had only once caught a glimpse of himself in the clothing which his stylists had selected for him. One stylist had strategically placed a scarlet-orange leaf in his hair, as if it had been swept by a dramatic autumn wind. They had clothed him in a suit of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens, accented with gold. He was practically a walking maple leaf.

His third stylist, a woman with long, green ringlets, was just about to place a scarf of similar colorization around his neck, when a like being burst in.

"No scarf, sorry. It wouldn't match his partner."

The green-haired girl, perplexed and perhaps a little disappointed, she seemed, approached this fellow stylist.

"Why can't we give him the scarf?" she inquired. The other stylist, a wiry woman with cropped strawberry hair lowered her voice as she replied.

Damir found it somewhat peculiar that Amira's stylist would leave her and randomly enter another Tribute's styling room to announce that he could no longer wear a scarf. He could only hope, once more, that they had been treating Amira well...

"Alright, Damir," another of his stylists said. "I think you're ready."

He did not look threatening in the least, but he certainly looked more fashionable than usual, however outrageous this style of dress was.

Blaze

Blaze's stylists started to walk her out of her prep room and into a waiting area for the interviews. She did her best to hold onto her confidence, to create the persona that her appearance portrayed.

((continued in later post))

Name: Athanasius Thanatos (But he goes by Than)

Age: 14

Gender: male

Tribute (Yes or No): Yes

Personality: Than is a little full of himself at times, but he's not such a bad guy. He tries to be nice to people unless they're really annoying. However, Than does not have very much patience.

History: He's a Capitol guy, but that hasn't stopped Than from noticing the poverty in the Districts. However, he hasn't done anything to help the people of the Districts. He's always known that he could do something, but tattoos and the latest of Capitol news can easily distract him. His life has never been very dramatic or interesting other than that.

Appearance: Than has a mop of curly black hair that he never tries to keep from looking unruly. It falls over his gray-green eyes without completely covering them, or all the freckles that dot his nose.

Than is tall and and slender. He's not super skinny, but he's not a block, either.

Skills: Not being a corrupt Capitol kid.

Gruffy

As he sat in the sparsely lit cell, Gruffy could only have hoped that his plan had gone better. He had originally only planned to injure the stylists enough to get kicked out of the games, but, from what he has been hearing through the thin walls, they are still planning to send him into the interview dressed in nothing more than rags. And who would want to sponsor him in the games then? He had doomed himself from the start in that futile attempt at freedom. Nevertheless, Gruffy was not one to give up without a fight...