keep your proud heart {{rade+moon}{vt}}

[ghosty]

[googlefont=Bad Script:400]

Tawny Blythe

The victor of the games, Katelyn Persimmon is coming to District One today, and I was hoping to get the front seats of her speech, and (hopefully) get to speak to her personally. It'd be the greatest  moment, meeting with a real victor, in the flesh. Someone that has the whole of Panem knowing her name, and she being above  them, all the riches pouring out of her ears. I would love that, knowing that you fought the hardest to survive, and were rewarded for it. By being richer than you can even imagine, going to the Capitol every year of the rest of your life. And the moment of the speech is almost upon the District, and I begin to run, run towards the Games Square. Where a winner that so few of us can manage to be is standing within eyesight distance of me. And even then, I still want to see more of her, congratulate her on getting out of the arena, with a heart still beating within her chest. More that can be said for 23 others.

There is no one in District 1 that she cared for, no allies for her to talk about, so the speech was shorter than some districts, and that means that she's going to be coming to the Training Center to come and meet some of us, to be treated like a hero by people like me. And treated she shall. And I get to do a dance- with the other people who do dance, of course. I couldn't do it all myself. I'm not that good- to do with the games, practised to a tee, many, many hours spent practising, and practising. I don't want to fail with what I try to do, that happens too many times when training with fighting in the Center, Adaira, for example. Rat was a different bag entirely, no more than the girls goddamn cockiness dragging her down. And then, the first person's face I lock onto the crowd is Adaira, picking it from hundreds of people around; probably to do with the brightness of her hair. And then Katelyn comes through the door, and the music starts. the beat the only thing in my mind, silently ticking, one two three four one two three four, and I let myself fall into the dance. And I hear the dance teacher's voice mutter the words of the moves, 'Pirouette! Arabia! Illusion turn!' And everyone around me, starts to float in, towards me, the whole dance starting to turn into aggression. And slowly, surely, everyone collapses apart from me, left as the victor. I am Katelyn. I curtsey, and I know that everyone with the spotlights on them are doing the same.

And finally, Katelyn comes over. I know I must say something to her, and that now is the perfect time for it. 'Miss Persimmon? I'm... I'm really pleased to meet you. I'm Tawny."

words: four hundred and ninety

table made by ghosty

[charade]

[googlefont="Ubuntu:400"]

Katelyn

Persimmon

Even though she had known that district one's industry was luxury items, upon arriving she had nearly thought that they had gone back to the Capitol. The only difference was a lack of extreme body modifications, and the large banners that read rest in peace with pictures of their tributes. That and the banners welcoming the victor of the sixty-ninth hunger games to their home. It was odd, seeing her own face staring down at her, and Katelyn decided she wasn't going to be enjoying her stay at all.

Once the speech was over, Finter exclaimed that she was in for a special treat, that in district one it was customary for the victor to go down to the training center and meet the next generation of careers at a party in her honor. Katelyn shot him a look that said she'd rather be hit in the face with a hammer than do so, but he cajoled her into going in the end. Everything was bright, even the food, dozens of colors making up cakes and pies she had never heard of. A rainbow of hues. Taking the plate that her escort offered her, she settled in to watch a performance, and found herself enjoying it to some small degree.

It was only when the dancing became more frantic and dancers started to fall to the ground to fake blows from an imaginary weapon that she realized that they were miming out a variation of the hunger games. That was when Katelyn started feeling ill. She found herself preferring the stony silence of district two to the unabashed glorification of her victory in one. It was almost like being in the Capitol.

She hated every second of it.

But she had to remind herself that none of the people around her meant any harm. They were just doing what they did in district one. The dancer that had been left standing as the victor, as her, came over and introduced herself, gushing about the honor in meeting Miss Persimmon. Katelyn balked slightly. Tawny couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than her; hell she could have been the same age for all Kate knew. A girl with bright pink hair approached them, and Katelyn prepared herself for another fan.

As much as the word disgusted her.


"Hello," she said thinly. "Your district certainly is...colorful." And indeed it was, though until arriving, all she could think of the place was Jeff dying in the snow and Quartz stabbing her in the back. But there was only one more district between her and home. She had survived the arena. She could deal with this.

made by anzie

[moon(stone)]

When I awoke, it was almost like a gunshot. A beam of sunlight fell through my window. Too bright. 

 I had been dreaming of the Hunger Games, and I was about to become a Victor. The arena was forested with gems twinkling on the trees. The final cannon went off, and I threw my knife into a thick, soupy sea. It hit the last tribute, a faceless girl, in the eye. Her skin shriveled off in pea-green peels, and her skin turned to feathers, and I realized she was a mutt. And then I woke up. 
It was the date of the annual Victory Tour. Katelyn Persimmon, the tribute girl from 11, would be gracing us with her presence. I have to admit I did not think she was going to win. My friends who bet had money on Mason, and I had seen Quartz before. I had never talked to her, of course. She was from the community home. Now she was gone. I didn't have to talk to her. 24 mouths moving, only one left to sing. That's the way it is. It's real life. You can capture glory in a fistfight but the souls will slip through your fingers. 
My hair was freshly dyed. I tinted it a shade more saturated than usual. I like to think my head will turn heads. I pulled on my clothes: a light blue dress over tights and boots. There were soft crystals embroidered around the neckline in the pattern of ice and snowy mountains on my sleeves down to my elbow. I did my makeup, including the white eyeliner I flicked into a cat eye. As a final touch I snapped on twin silver cuffs. It was my little secret that pressing the right combination of gems at one time would reveal the three throwing knives and two daggers hidden within. The hilts contained matching jewels so I could pair each weapon up with its hiding place. 
My parents were gone to the Games square. I got there just before the beginning of her speech. It was short, seeing as she had no allies in One. Katelyn in person seemed softer than on the television. This may have been because the cold  of the arena sharpened everything. I strode through the crowd down to the Training Center, where she shall be welcomed as the heroine she has proven herself to be. 
There was lunch there. Thank goodness. District One's finest was set out before the snow queen. There were huge pies with various berry fillings and kebabs and pastries (both savory and sweet) and for dessert, macarons and fairy cakes and petit fours. They had even set out my favorite punch, the one that changes colors with temperature. The iced punch in the bowl was bright green, but cups sitting aside had already begun to turn blueish green and some were even yellow. Across the room there were Capitolites, most likely 11's escorts. They matched the food as I did. It gave me a little shot of happiness. 
Lunch was coming to a leisurely close. Now it was time for the dance. I was looking forward to it. In the training center, Tawny had spent the scraps of time between our fights wordlessly going over the moves, almost like the dance version of humming a tune. I had ordered flowers for after the performance. It would be beautiful. Soon, Tawny, soon. I wondered what the Victor would think. No, I couldn't wonder. No matter her opinion, it would be impolite to show her dislike of the dance they worked so hard on. They had different manners in 11, perhaps? Wilder manners to match the sprawling fields? 
I heard the door behind me open with a creak. There was a brief pause, and the music started. 
It took me a few moments to understand what was going on. A circle of dancers surrounded Tawny, swaying with a practiced rhythm. She took her place in her spot and the music cresecendoed. It reminded me very much of the tributes descending into the arena.  It was very much like the Hunger Gam- oh. That was what they were trying to portray. That made sense. Were it not impolite, I would have punched myself for my stupidity. 
Tawny was on fire. Her limbs were like weapons. Her arm movements cut and hacked swiftly, noiselessly. It almost brought tears to my eyes. The other dancers were wounded and fell in a beautiful, fluid way. The dance ended with Tawny and another girl, moving around the stage, trading blows. The other girl tumbled to the ground. Tawny stood alone. She was the lone Victor. 
My first thought was that I probably should have bought more flowers.
A spotlight fell on her and she curtsied. The dance was over. She flurried over to meet Katelyn. Oh dear, I thought. I maybe should have brought Katelyn flowers too. Do they exchange flowers in 11?'
Tawny couldn't help herself from beaming and babbling. I was as honored as she, but I was just better at hiding it.
I approached Katelyn.  She had a lovely figure, if a bit scrawny and lanky.  Her eyes were pale blue, but hollow. The cameras couldn't capture the hollowness. It should have been replaced with the joy of being a Victor. She wasn't ungrateful, I reminded myself. Just tired. 
"Hello,” she said. "Your district certainly is... colorful." 
Colorful? Colorful!?   They have colors in 11, probably. The crops are likely green, the apples likely red, the sky likely blue as in my own district. Then I remembered she had been in the arena. The only color she is used to besides white is the red of blood. 
"Hello." Good manners, introduce yourself. "I am Adaira Lynsen. It is an honor. You have met Tawny?" I gesture to her. Her face is flushed with happiness. The answer is yes, of course. 
Just then a man stumbles in. He is dull compared to everything else in the room. He gestures to me to come over. I realize he has Tawny's flowers. 
I take the bouquet and put it behind my back. With a comforting smile, I offer it to Tawny. I don't hug, but I have an urge to go and embrace her. "I hope these are nearly as lovely as your performance was. You were fantastic." 
I look at Persimmon, still unsure of whether or not they exchange flowers in 11. 

[ghosty]

[googlefont=Bad Script:400]

Tawny Blythe

I still can't believe that the victor of the Hunger Games is standing in front of me, after having watched a dance in her honour. It's more than I can imagine that can happen, and after deciding carefully what to say, Katelyn spoke, 'Hello, your district certainly is... colourful.' She didn't want to upset our district, but it's sure to be bright and over the top, at least compared to District 11. I wouldn't like to go to any of the lower districts for that same reason; I'd find them too mundane when compared to 1. And what about one of the best people to suggest that 1 is too bright, is Adaira, her bright pink hair really being very plain, and not at all over the top. And along she came, politeness coming out of her mouth to make up for the shouting colour of her hair. 'Hello. I am Adaira Lynsen. It is an honor. You have met Tawny?' At the same moment, she gesture towards me. And literally the same moment, her eyes lock onto someone over my shoulder, but I don't turn round. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all.

And Adaira goes to meet him, and she comes back, her hand behind her back. With a flick of her wrist, she brings out a bouquet of flowers, a smile upon her face, a hint of discomfort upon it also. 'I hope these are nearly as lovely as your performance was. You were fantastic.' And when the flowers were in my arms, I realised where the discomfort upon her face had arrived from: She didn't get any flowers for Katelyn. The person who deserves them more than I. 'Thank you for the flowers and the kind words, Adaira. But I think,' gesturing the flowers towards Katelyn, 'that Miss Persimmon deserves them more than I do. She did win the Hunger Games, y'know?' I hold the flowers nearer to her, and hope that she takes them. I don't want to stand here like a lemon for the rest of my life. It'd look stupid after the dance I'd just done. I shuffle nearer towards Adaira, getting close enough to hiss in her ear, 'You forgot flowers for Katelyn Persimmon?! I deserve flowers more than a victor?!" And I lean away, still smiling towards Katelyn. Hopefully, she didn't hear that.

words: three hundred and ninety one

table made by ghosty

[charade]

[googlefont="Ubuntu:400"]

Katelyn

Persimmon

The pink haired girl introduced herself as Adaira, saying that it was an honor that Katelyn had deigned to talk to her, and complementing the other girl on her dance. Katelyn focused on the girls hair, trying and failing not to stare. It was stunning. Not completely garish like some of the things she had seen in the Capitol.Thank you for the flowers and the kind words, Adaira. But I think, that Miss Persimmon deserves them more than I do. She did win the Hunger Games, y'know?'

Katelyn would have rolled her eyes if she hadn't thought it to be unnecessarily rude. They're just kids. she reminded herself sullenly. I'm just a kid. But I've seen more death in eight days first hand than most people will ever see in their lifetimes. They don't understand the hell I've been through. They romanticize it. Had Quartz and Jeff been like that too? Katelyn knew she would never know.

With a sigh, she took the flowers."They're lovely. Reminds me of home." Was this all there was to the first district of panem? A pale imitation of the Capitol? Staring at the dancer and the girl with the pink hair, she tried to imagine what it would have been like if one of them had been reaped instead of Quartz. Would their heads have been torn off too? Would one of them cracked Velocity's skull open? Careers were enamored of the games, but while the feeling Katelyn had received in two was one of glory-seeking and prized brutality in one it felt more like fame-seeking and prized artistry.

District one appeared to adore victors almost as much as the Capitol. From the careers she had spoken with in two, it seemed that the mentality was one of competition. In one, it was a mentality of...simply playing a game. The demonstration in two was about combat. Here it was a dance to mimic it. It was aggravating on several levels, but since the two girls hadn't done anything to intentionally antagonize her, she didn't have any biting remarks hiding behind her teeth.

Just a sort of quiet acceptance that she held to while counting the days until she was back in eleven. If it would be over quicker if she consorted with these girls, then so be it. "Your hair," she said to Adaira."It reminds me of the Capitol. It's... nice." she finished tiredly. With the districts whose tributes she had slain and allied with all behind her, Katelyn didn't have much else left to say.

She was emotionally spent.


made by anzie

[moon(stone)]

Crap. It looks like they do exchange flowers in 11. I've never seen Tawny so mad. "Thank you for the flowers and the kind words, Adaira. But I think that Miss Persimmon deserves it more than I do. She did win the Hunger Games, y'know?" She smiles with her mouth. Her eyes are indignant. I had a different version of this playing in my head. Tawny bending her face down to smell them, talking like the rain about the dance and its difficulties. But now there is Katelyn. I wonder briefly if there's enough time to pull the bathroom trick.
The bathroom trick is a favorite of my mother's. Get a gift for someone and it turns out they have a friend you've accidentally snubbed? "I have to go to the bathroom." Then you go and find the nearest, prettiest gift you can find, put it behind your back and offer it as a surprise like you had it all along. I am thinking this when Tawny hisses into my ear. "You forgot flowers for Katelyn Persimmon?! I deserve flowers more than a victor?!" I am going to have hell to pay.
Tawny gives her the flowers. Katelyn makes a weak statement about them reminding her of her home.
I look at Katelyn, trying to see what gift she would want. I couldn't tell. Her face is buffed and clean, no doubt from the stylists on her tour. Her hair is soft and shining with a Capitol glow. She is perfectly presented, perfectly made up.
Yet she still seems hollow. I feel anger surge up in my chest. Didn't she leave another girl dead on the snow? Didn't she snap necks and pull knives through flesh for this moment? She could be cold now in her wooden box, and we could have another Victor, a Victor ready to embrace her victory. What if Quartz won? She could have come home to her brother. She could have moved from the community home to Victor's Village.
What if I was reaped? I would have done anything. I would have used everything I had to come out of the arena breathing. I would have left bloody. I would have been here, proud, laughing with Tawny about her dance.
This girl was a mistake.
"Your hair," she managed to get out. "It reminds me of the Capitol. It's... nice."
I have a wave of annoyance.
"Thank you," I say. "I keep it like this because of my aunt. When my father was small, he came here to District One with his father and a Victor, my grandmother." I continue with hot pain building up in my chest. It doesn't matter. She'll forget it soon. "My aunt stayed in the Capitol. She was my father's best friend. They only spoke to each other five times as my father grew up and got married. I was named after her. My family saw her for the last time when I was small. She took me to get my hair dyed like this. We matched. Then they cut off all contact. My father's never seen her again. He cries for her in his sleep. My mother thinks she's dead. She might be a Gamemaker, who knows. Sometimes I think I see her on TV, maybe in the background. If I get into the Games and I win, I could contact her. I could see her again. I would do anything. I hope your Victory brings you that happiness. I hope it opens some doors. I hope that we can honor you as you should be. Because my father's never been happy. He's incomplete. We have everything here. My district supports the Games because they're a competition. We know that losing will break you until you can't breathe. Winning will make you whole. I hope you are whole, Miss Persimmon. I hope you are whole."
I pause. I am taken aback by my own honesty. Tawny must be steaming. I shouldn't have done that. I ask to go to the bathroom. The bathroom trick- it works every time.