𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚝
he offers an apologetic smile to his district stylist after shaking and ruffling his hair free from gel and glitter , disrespecting their work the second he was free from public eye . he made an attempt at wiping the makeup from his face too , uncomfortable by how restricting it felt — like some drying soil stuck to his skin after a hard days work . the THRILL of his moment under the spotlight , the cheers from the crowd , it all faded before his chariot came to a stop and they were publicly introduced to panem by the president . meeting the eyes of some of the other tributes — witnessing how some felt comfortable and excited to be participating — it was intimidating . scout was far out of place , light years away from a comfort zone . maybe he understood his fate , but that didn’t mean he accepted it . he should be working the fields with his brother and mother , a growling stomach , sun - burnt skin — cursing the capitol for taking this food they worked to harvest away from them . instead , he had a full belly and yearned for his family’s embrace — his anger toward the capitol never ceasing .
an outstretched hand catches his eyes before features do , light brown eyes lifting to his greeter . a smile meets him there , gentle and sweet , and perhaps even REAL . attempting to determine what was real or not real was difficult the past twenty - four hours . barely a second passes before he takes the hand and returns the smile . he knew who she was — he had seen the clip of her reaping , just like he had all the others there . she was a gentle soul with something fierce stirring deep within — she was the one that fed a peacekeeper a punch to the face after all . know thy enemy . “ ah , good to know . i wouldn’t have been surprised if a capitol citizen paraded around in an outfit like that . you really think you’ve seen it all being here for a day , then you turn another corner … it’s definitely like a bad case of whiplash , ” a light chuckle parts dry lips , retreating his hand to his pocket . “ it’s nice to meet you , circumstances of it aside . i’m scout — like you said , from district eleven . tell me something , juniper — does the glitter in my hair appear more SYMBOLIC to some of the grains my district produce , or more like a bad case of dandruff ? ” he tips his head forward , a subtle smile curving his lips as he fishes for an upbeat conversation — god only knows matters will only get worse from there for all of them .
𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖏𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 someone who stands between her and survival simply because he breathes ? the life of a tribute is a question she has never sought to answer , yet here juniper is ––––– reaped , paraded , forced to take part in a hellish game . made to discover what it is like to shake someone's hand and wonder which one will outlast the other , knowing that in less than a month at least one of them will be dead . what does she expect from the boy she greets with a smile , yet thinks of as competition ? maybe hostility , maybe a cold shoulder ––––– but her own gentleness is returned tenfold , in a way that is both comfort and relief . a bubble where two tributes united by vicious circumstances exchange rare softness and smile like death is not imminent . juniper feels the corners of her lips turn upwards in her first genuine grin since an escort called upon her for the slaughter . the smile is real , and rather than fight it back , she embraces the semblance of normalcy when everything surrounding them is poisonous and artificial . it is prying eyes that linger on every move and analyze it , searching for weaknesses . it is capitolites looking at them and seeing an opportunity to profit , placing bets on whose blood will tint the arena crimson first like they are pawns in a child's game . ‘ i know , right ? these people are crazy . i feel like their outfits must have started out as a joke and then they just didn't know when to stop , ’ juniper agrees , briefly looking back to some of the more outlandish looks . bright colors and glitter are overwhelming when all she has ever come into contact with are plain , functional fabrics ––––– it seems like these people seek out discomfort as they try to outdo one another in a shallow , meaningless popularity contest .
𝖍𝖊'𝖘 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖞 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 , 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖊 unwavering even once her hand has already started to return to her side . it lingers in mid –– air before juniper lets her fingertips gently graze strands of hair , barely touching ––––– the glitter is foreign to her , and there is something admittedly hypnotic about the way it catches light and reflects color . it's a second where she lets herself indulge in childlike curiosity , yet her hand returns to her side soon after , a hint of a laugh making its way past painted lips . ‘ i think it's more along the lines of the prettiest dandruff i've seen , scout . unless district eleven has some rare shiny fruit that nobody but the capitol gets . i wouldn't put it past them , to be honest . ’ a playful smile , followed by a gesture to the less than subtle imagery on the outfit she has been forced into . ‘ now you tell me something . do i look like i belong on a chariot or on someone's plate ? ’













