D12F Madisyn Warden Interview

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

Immediately after arriving in the Capitol, the tributes are taken to a secret secondary location. They are kept separate, even from their district partners, in small, well-decorated, windowless rooms. Inside the rooms, tributes have the option of sleeping in a decently plush bed, busying themselves with puzzles, or staring blankly at the walls. As a reminder, they will not have eaten since sometime before their reapings over a day ago at this point.

One by one, at around dinner time that night, the tributes will be escorted to a production stage which has been turned into an intimate interview set. As a reminder, tributes will not be able to watch other tributes' interviews. On the stage, a fake backdrop of the Capitol's evening skyline is hanging in front of two plush-looking chairs, separated by a tasteful mahogany coffee table. A small crowd of what can only be assumed to be the Capitol's wealthiest elite sits in silence, no applause as the tributes enter from stage left and take their seats across from Harlan Godfrey. They watch from the unlit peanut gallery, mostly only visible from the light reflecting in their eyes.

"Warden. Why does that name sound familiar, I wonder?"

"Fascinating, and your father works on a farm now- is that right? What about you? Where do you work?"

"You seem very sure of yourself. Where do you think that confidence stems from?"

"Pardon my forwardness, but I wonder: Are you willing to do anything it takes to survive?"

"Any parting words?"

Once the interview concludes, the crowd will applaud politely and briskly, and the tribute will be escorted back to their room for the night. Once the interviews are over, all of the tributes who behaved themselves are treated to a single bread roll from their district, making it their first meal in almost two days. Tributes who do not comply with the interview or make a scene will not be given any food.

Tributes are welcome to post their responses in public-thread form, but this is non-mandatory development for your character and is up to you to participate in or not!

MADISYN WARDEN

i've been trapped, hungry and bored for what feels like forever when the door to my plush cell opens. "finally," i hiss at the servant. i make sure every step i take is heavy, stomping down the hallways. they're leading me to my imminent demise and i refuse to go quietly.

but then i'm led onto a production lot, complete with a set and stage. honestly the design is a little tacky and if i'm going to die in the capitol i'd at least like it to look good? but this doesn't feel like that kind of setup. probably they didn't bring me all the way here just to have some very good looking dude shoot me.

there's also a bunch of sour pusses wearing what i ought to be, just staring. i almost stick my tongue out at them when my sleep deprived, starved brain finally fires.

"harlan godfrey," i say by way of answer to his first question. "you're like an actual person." i laugh, tucking a strand of dark hair behind one ear. and then i lean forward, tipping my cleavage, until it's absolutely scandalous. "i'm not so famous as you but my family, the wardens, used to be political way, wayyy back when. i don't even really remember political about what!" a pretty fluttering of eyelashes. "and yes, my dad's a farmer now, mostly seasonal crops -- beans, vegetables, the healthy stuff you gotta eat -- and my mom's a farmer's wife. she makes homemade cheese, which i would kill for right now."

it only takes a second for me to realize what i've said, what i've committed to. i wrap my hands around my knees, pressing breasts to thighs, and hope he doesn't make me pinky promise. "i'm a good daughter of twelve, harlan. i work in the mines, six days a week, and when they offer overtime, twice on sundays."

i can't quite read his expression but it doesn't matter. he is so gorgeous, nothing really matters. not what words come out of my mouth, not my rumbling tummy, not my red raw nose and certainly not the fact that i've been chosen for a survival contest. if i'd had my traditional southern debut, i'd have had an interview just like this one and i'm sure my tits would have looked even better in a corset.

but based on the camera lens reflection, they still look pretty great as is. "it's easy to be confident when you don't have any other choice." my smile is so devilish but something cold unfurls in my belly. i can't quite see it through, so with a small cough i amend, "and it's a family trait."

he doesn't look terribly upset which is a relief. i shift, just a little, so that i can see the audience out of the corner of my eye. they're absolutely no help. but why have an audience at all if they're going to be silent sheep? "anything?" i echo, my thoughts tangling. "i'm not sure what you mean," i demure. the lights and heat of the stage are making me sweat. actually, maybe it's just the proximity to harlan. i fan myself with one hand and sit up a little straighter. i'm not sure where to go with that until very suddenly, i am: "meeting you was definitely on my bucket list but i don't wanna die. just tell me what you want me to do and i'll do it."

i can't decide if i'm impressed that he doesn't take the bait or deeply disappointed. what i definitely am is hungry. parting words? "surely someone in the capitol wants to take a girl from a good family out to a nice steak dinner tonight. right? right??"

i turn to stare beyond the bright lights into the sea of stoic faces, looking for a savior and finding none.