bull in bronze :: D4m interview

[Deleted]

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"Hey, Nixie-" talk about a plot twist, "you know Fernwood?" 

Here I was planning for old Flickwick, do you think he finally made it to the glittery gates? I'm double checking the itinerary in line, trying my hardest to ignore the itch that would mess up my make up again. Sailor's one eye-rub away from sending me back to the districts and Fisher's not helping me out here, shuffling with anticipation every time the crowd claps to Risky with Nylon, with Bastian, with Liza- you get it.

Of course, Nixie knows Fernwood, any career with any media coverage class would teach you about the Hollywood era. Risky Pope's flashy with veneers brighter than Caesar's, but I know Fernwood -- my first thought is that's a reporter. That's a woman who knows when she's being lied right to her face and I wonder, like I usually do, I wonder just what she's going to ask me about. 

Bastian gets asked on relationship advice. 

Iden gets asked about his brother. 

Hendrix might just be a step past that. I keep my ear open as she interviews Nixie, left ear to the stage, right ear on the D5's. Gavin and Cecily - she was on the betting board, you bet I'm keeping her in earshot. After my interview, I'm hanging behind that curtain with a goddamn notepad if I have to. 

It's a blood rush when I hear the shuffling before my partner's interview is over; hope that doesn't change my mind on her. 

"4 MALE." the backstage announcer booms over our heads, a flutter shock in my heart, shit. Shit, shit, shit - I'm fidgeting with my skirt as they call the last career, and that's fucking me. I grin to Cecily like how I imagine the devil fakes it, a smile with two canine's and a wave goodbye, "don't forget to break a leg, babe."

Do me that favor.

🤘           🤘

The first step on stage feels like it starts a dance, both hands on my chest as I think about my breathing and stare into the crowd - "WHEW!"

I think this is the moment this thing starts in my mind. The reverb of ANARCHY MER! bouncing off the auditorium ceiling and I can't open my eyes wide enough -- what a grand entrance. The 6th career takes his place on stage and I raise my hands to the crowd in the form of bullhorns, Fisher waddling on stage behind me in his own matching outfit. 

The question here is: how do I sell myself best? 

I'm nothing if not eager. 

I cross the stage to the late Mrs. Fernwood, blowing the reporter a kiss before I greet her with a little black box. Small enough to stuff into a pocket, light enough to be a single cigar; I wink with a smile, my back to the crowd as if we're apart of the same inside joke.

"If Annie taught me anything, it'd be that you never meet someone empty handed," taking the guitar off to sit as quietly as I can, "Anarchy Mer, it's great to see you guys tonight!" Anyone who's watched this can agree: those capitolites clap at just about anything. I could piss on this stage and I think they'd have me trending on Tribsit by tomorrow. Maybe I'll keep that in mind. 

Only if I don't do better than Bastian. 

Judging by the whistles from when I gave Fernwood the gift, I think I may be just fine. 

[ table credit: lucius branwen / 10 — fox | thread for: gamemaker kelsier ]





( anarchy brings you a gift! open it? )
[ yes ]     [ no ]

[gamemaker kelsier]

h e n d r i x .

"I only showed
up to tell you
Everyone at this
party's a vampire"

The crowd is something to get used to, different in small ways to her usual audience, but not all that much. With a little over three decades in the spotlight, Hendrix is used to declarations of adoration shouted at the stage and she takes them graciously, having seen the way a crowd could turn on a less grateful host. Like locusts, they would leave her picked clean.

She waves and smiles, hand raised regally as the District Four female makes her way off of the stage. She's interviewed many before of course, but until now it's been rare for her to speak with anyone from the districts. In her youth, the Games never appealed to her much and perhaps that's one of the reasons she'd never pursued the task of interviewing tributes until now. Hendrix had always left that to her colleagues, Caesar and of course, the ravishing Sardonyx Crowe.

If Caesar hadn't asked her for this favour, she might never have found herself on this particular stage, perhaps she secretly believed it all to be a little beneath her. Still, today she'd arrived with an open mind and so far, Miss Summers had been interesting enough. She could only hope that the District Four Male wouldn't disappoint.

His reaping had been interesting enough, a surprise volunteer from the Morrison line, any career family would be proud of that moment. The dog was a surprise, the fact that they let it come this far even more so. Hendrix is uncertain if the Capitol is simply softening or if they just no longer care. As long as twenty-three children die, the rule can always bend for the drama of it all.

As the tribute's name is called, Anarchy sees out onto the stage, a proud smile on his lips, his hands graciously to his chest. That dog, unnamed as of yet, waddles through the curtain behind him wearing coordinating clothes. The crowd, already pleased to see Nixie, recognizes a star when they see one. People scream out his name, teen girls wave signs above their heads madly and when hendrix looks past the blinding stage lights into the front row, she sees a few young men sobbing and screaming.

Interesting effect.

Anarchy approaches Hendrix and blows her a kiss so she smiles in return, a slow and gentle process. It's hard to look at a joyful face like that in all of this sorrow and not smile back.

He holds out a little black box and while Hendrix usually has a rule of never accepting anything from an interviewee due to the nature and circumstance of her usual fair, Anarchy is charming and seemingly harmless. She takes it carefully and places it on the cushion behind her to look at later.

He's already piqued her interest by this move alone, a boy who knows his manners, who knows his charm can go far in the training centre, farther still beneath the dome. She wonders how much of this is calculated. When he waves at the crowd again and the dog sits obediently at his feet, she studies him carefully.

Hendrix takes her time with beginning. The crowd still roars as he sits and places the guitar in his lap and she does little to silence them. There's a shyness to him, something hard to spot through the television, a core of something cold and empty.

There so often is with boys like him.

"Anarchy, 'just call me Arc' Mer," she says, referencing his volunteer moment. "How lovely of you to come see us." The crowd roars again in agreement and Hendrix turns to look at them, a knowing smile on her face as she waits for them to quiet down.

"Now, now," she says, teasing, "We'll run out of time before we can get to know them if you lot don't keep quiet!" They laugh and go quiet and in that time, Hendrix busies herself with holding a hand out for the dog to sniff. By the way its ears are pulled back, she knows that it isn't quite used to this much stimulation.

If the dog goes everywhere with the boy, he can't be either.

The gift, the guitar and the dog are all in place for Hendrix to question them, three different shields brought by the boy from Four. If all of those fail him, Hendrix is sure that he's suspecting questions about Annie, but that's not why she's here.

"Now Arc," she begins, "With a Victor for a cousin and a musical talent–" she gestures at the guitar—"I hope, not to mention, rather good looks, your future is set up already for fame and fortune so tell us why." Hendrix says calmly, leaning forward slightly, all of her focus trained on him, "Why are you here?"

"Tell us," she says, tone warm but firm, "What brought you to this moment?"

She waits for him to lie, in fact, as she stares at him, Hendrix silently dares him to do so. With years of interviews under her belt, she has a way of getting what she wants out of them.