@zenaidajudas !
A set of laughter came to a halt as he finished previous monologue, a tale of monsters at the margin followed by the costs of living the life as a bachelor and words seemed to hit the right audience every time. He was a former victor, a familiar face living in the memories of local crowds and private groups and those who had stepped out of the arena alive enjoyed Hercules status in the mother and head of all twelve districts. Born with a witty tongue, manipulation of his seemed like simple conversation to most Capitol members. Just a chit-chat in disguise, a little mention of his tributes here, a promise of sponsors there. Raised in full glory, both of them extremely gifted and fond of Panemâs heart - your Capitol that is, Dyon had described them with an idle smirk. And they had cheered, like fools clapping for the circus. God, how he loved it here: The food, the dress-code, the expensive way of living. It did remind him of home, his home catering luxury and clothing so similar in glamour and style that Dyon himself couldâve easily passed as one of them.
With a nod of head and a couple of firm handshakes, a tall figure was EXCUSED to walk down the halls of one of the most prominent buildings, with ceilings so high one could see them fondle the clouds. Surrounded by it all, he remembered the feeling of being godlike, people handing you every item of desire and stares thrown your way that indicated deep respect. They respected him, because he had killed. Massacred, even. And he had won, with a smile for the audience and the honor of District One brought to a higher level. Heâd do it all again in a heartbeat. Not all mentors were like that, with later districts lacking every sense of authority and leading skills. Presumably, those wouldnât make it as far. His steps came to a stop, attention now shifted onto a woman he had seen before, one of the individuals he considered himself excited to meet. And for the time being, theyâd have to somewhat work together. Â â Zenaida Judas. â Dyon audibly noticed, movements directed to meet the woman. Dark hair, fiery attitude as far as he remembered - and one hell of a kill. Â â Your tributes. What do we got this year? I like the boy, looked like he got hunger for attention. Â â
