68th Hunger Games Victor Presentation Ceremony

[Lulu]

The president of Panem stood on the magnificent stage in the City Circle, addressing his people as he had done numerous times before. Another of his prized Hunger Games had come to a close. As usual, they had been an enormous success; enough blood, death, and tragedy to satisfy the viewers, and also to subdue the thoughts of rebellion that the high government official knew were brewing in the minds of some of Panem's citizens.

Snow knew he couldn't be picky; after all, a Career couldn't win every year. Patricia Valfierno of District Five was a strong competitor and had been a frontrunner from the start, so at least it hadn't been an underdog coming up from behind as had happened far too often in the past decade. District Five wasn't ideal for victory—to be honest, he had no idea how Patricia had won with Lethe Turner as a mentor—but he supposed it would do for now. She certainly had a rebellious streak, but with a little preening, perhaps she would turn into the type of victor that was healthy for society.

He knew that Patricia was waiting just below him right now, ready for the platforms to lift her up and out into the light for the first time since she'd left the arena three days ago. The usual upholstered throne was placed in the center of the stage, ready for the victor while she watched a recap of what had been her hell for the past two and a half weeks, including the preparations. It was usually torture for the tribute, but the president enjoyed it very much. He wouldn't deny the sadistic delight that he took in watching each victor witness their own atrocities from afar, powerless to change the course of Games, even if they wanted to. Many of them, it seemed, wanted to indeed.

President Snow quieted the crowd and prepared to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to welcome you to the victor presentation ceremony of the Sixty-Eighth Annual Hunger Games!" As usual, there was the deafening roar of approval that followed. "Tonight we will show a recap video of this year's Games, so be sure to stay tuned!" Like they have a choice, the president thought. The recap video was required viewing for all of Panem.

Snow went on to announce the prep team, stylist, escort, and mentor of the victor; all were received with tremendous applause. But then, the moment they were all waiting for... Snow plastered a smile across his face before speaking once more. "And now, may I present the victor of the 67th Hunger Games… Patricia Valfierno!"

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OOC- RPing is permitted in this thread by Capitol characters and past victors. This is the place to have your Capitol character react to viewing the recap video, if you planned on doing that. All characters from other districts can create their own threads in the districts, if they wish.

[rook]

{ p a t r i c i a v a l f i e r n o}
victor of the 68th annual hunger games

god i'm scared to think back
about everything that has come before me
our time and future histories
my I've wandered this library for years now
killing time whilst time slowly killed me

When you think of anxiety, your mind conjures up an image of a churning stomach, bubbling toxic fluid, boiling away in your gut. Yet for me, it's more an emptiness. Numb through me, tingling my fingers and making my eyes water. Is that anxiety? I think perhaps it could be fear, or a horrible blend of both. No copious amount of mascara or lipstick is going to mask my expressions, I try to wave away their tools, but then persist like flies.

"I want to look plain, don't you think I will look more powerful that way?" I ask as they come at me with brushes and paints, ready to plaster me like a canvas. They giggle between themselves, men and women both laughing in high-pitched tones, looking at me with squinted, alien eyes.
"Silly girl, we want you to look beautiful." The words stab me. I have no power.

Without having a choice in the matter, I comply, letting them sculpt me to their image. It's like they're making me one of them, erasing the face of that infamous girl who fought and scrambled in the dark to survive. That girl is too much a symbol of fighting spirit. They're painting a picture, and Patricia Valfierno isn't in the frame. It's some new girl. Some Victor that they can hang on the wall with the others. I try not to cry as they draw lines on the edges of my eyelids, and pluck hairs from my chin and brow. All this pain to look like someone I'm not. I don't want to be their creation, I want Panem to see me as me. I can't be stupid enough to believe that is a possibility. Am I still that naive? Still?

I am dressed in black, like I am going to my own funeral. Golden trims the sleeves and neckline, whilst faint royal roses are stitched into the fabric, sprouting across my chest. They say it is meant to symbolise growth in darkness. They tell me that I developed in the darkness, like a photograph, becoming more and more clear until everyone could see the person they cameras made me. Ruthless. Cold. Terrifying. You shouldn't believe everything you see on television. Don't they know that if you leave something in the dark and starve it of nutrients, it doesn't grow at all? It withers and it dies. Maybe this black dress is meant to show how withered and decayed I am.

They tell me to get up. I do what they say, staring blankly ahead as they lead me out of my prep room and into familiar hallways. I have been here before, when they dressed me and Blaire up as Power Plant Engineers and put us in a carriage together. That boy is dead now, and the girl won't be seen as working class either. How long ago that seems. Worlds away from where I am now.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm pleased to welcome you to the victor presentation ceremony of the Sixty-Eighth Annual Hunger Games!" Snow's voice is like muffled thunder. I can't help but shake the feeling that behind that cloud is an electric current, harsh and dangerous. He is holding back, and that scares me. I wait on the sidelines, watching the President of Panem deliver his speech with such precision. His confidence is a fire that burns everything around him. I want to step back, move to safety, but the Peacekeepers push me towards the flames. I grimace and step to the edge of the stage, just out of sight. They tell me to wait for Snow to introduce me. I swallow hard.

"Tonight we will show a recap video of this year's Games, so be sure to stay tuned!" He informs the nation, who respond with excitement. I want to be sick. I have to watch the highlights of my own Games. I have already seen them multiple times when in my hospital bed. I demanded it. I wanted to see it all again, to know that it was real. I couldn't bury it and deny that any of it happened. I'm not that kind of person. I will watch them again, and I will not flinch when I see myself in that Bloodbath, or watching Cha fall into the abyss, or kicking Crusader into the mercury pool, or stabbing Galaxy through the chest. It happened. It's not even in the past, it's with me all the time, and I accept that.

Rose is watching. She won't have a choice, just like everyone else in Panem. I wonder if she looks at me with pride, now that I have won. I don't want her to worry about me anymore, because I survived, so there's nothing for her to worry about now. Plenty for me to worry about, but nothing for her. I try to think that way, but she's my little sister, and like it or not, she's always going to worry about me. It's supposed to be the older sibling's job to worry, and I do, but Rose is much more of a worrier than I am. I've always been one to go with the flow. I need to show her that there's no cause for worry, even if there is, I'll mask it.

"And now, may I present the victor of the 68th Hunger Games… Patricia Valfierno!" A deafening applause, accompanied with shrieks and cries of joy. I walk forwards and onto the podium, next to the President of Panem. He looks me in the eye for the first time, and I feel the sting of his power. I stand strong as he places the crown on my head. I feel it's weight, the weight of twenty-three dead. I hold my head high, not regretting a single one of their deaths. Their death means my survival, and I will not feel bad for getting to live the rest of my life. His look is dark, almost challenging. It's a look that warns me not to step out of line, or he will devour me.

Oh, President Snow - Do you really think you can stomach me?

but i know
time, time is precious
and time will forget us
and time, time is precious
and time will forget us

word count: 1019, graphics: rook
theme: books by tall ships