#oddsstart

sylvene’s wide, brown gaze roams the area. “my, how we stylists have worked like dogs to make you scruffy little things look magnificent!” by scruffy little things, she of course meant the tributes. “people get so wrapped up in the games, they never think about how difficult it is for us stylists. in some ways, it’s more difficult for us. some tributes seem to have never even heard of fashion. oh, you’re all so lucky you have us!”

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍  𝐅𝐎𝐑  the  past thirty  seconds  or  so  , the  blonde  came  to  a  sudden  realisation that    doing   this   would   not   be   fun   without   an   accomplice  and   also   ,  maybe ,  someone   to   put   the   blame   on   when   things   take   a   turn   for   the   worst  .  so  she     reached   out   an   arm   and   grabbed   whatever   article   of   clothing   she  could  reach  before  she  tugged  on  it  and  pulled  the  person  in  the  itty  bitty  broom  closet  that  she  had  been  hiding  in  . ❛  okay  so  ,  hear  me  out  .   ❜  she  left  a  second  for  suspense  ( krista  had  always  been  on  for  theatrics  . ) ❛  vandalism  . ❜

it hasn’t been long since sei hopped off her chariot. yet sei’s long, jet black locks, which had been forcibly styled in place with copious hair products, are back to looking the way they usually do. which is to say, like a stringy curtain. the face of the young woman behind it appears reminiscent of a ghost, though her skin has a natural brown gleam. she does not speak, simply glaring at the others. she’s obviously uncomfortable in her clothes that day, and one could easily perceive the intense dislike she had for other people.

               HAUNTINGLY    ,    A    DELIGHTFUL    MELODY    FALLS    FROM    lips    pressed    together    in    a    thin    line    .    fingers    drum    on    an    expensive    chair    –    nails    perfectly    manicured    as    a    victor’s    should    be    .    at    the    sound    of    footsteps    in    the    emptiness    ,    a    look    sharper    than    knives    is    sent    over    her    shoulder    –    very    quickly    molded    into    softness    .    ❝                        nice    outfit    .    ❞    followed    by    a    soft    hum    ,    naked    hues    drifting    up    &    down    their    figure    .    ❝                      GOD    ,    i’m    exhausted    –    the    parade    was    a    lot    funner    as    a    tribute    ,    you    know    ?    ❞

ambruze hadn’t gotten much sleep, that was evident. as the day progressed, he seemed consistently absent-minded. this was pretty unusual for him. though he was quite the drunkard, he normally made an effort to engage with the public. but today, he was somber and not entirely there. this was because of his sister’s reaping, anyone with half a brain would figure out. (yet all the capitol citizens did in response was give him a few useless tears.) when he thought he heard someone speaking to him, he said, “sorry, were you talking to me?”