Of Purest Rage // [Glamour+Winnie+Dior+?]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

a note from the desk of

gamemaker

Glamour Kinkade

i can hear the echo ringing in my head

The Design and Aesthetics Gamemaking Department sprawled across an entire floor of the Training Center. Glamour had paced the length of it many times, watched the foyer decor change with the seasons, the cycle repeating annually. It would have all come to bore him, had he not been so very close to that which he desired most. In the intervening years, he rarely had the opportunity to sway the opinion of the Gamemakers. But even they needed help designing the arenas, coordinate the outfits, cementing the theme. Eventually, they needed him, almost as much as he needed them.

In the slow decline that follows the end of any given Games, Glamour found himself adrift. Normally he might have taken a vacation, of a fashion, to visit the previous arenas, or spend a few days in the sprawling pools in the Executive Park. But this year was definitely somehow. This year he could think of nothing that would bring him joy, save the taste and touch of someone who didn't want him. Someone who thought he didn't have a heart that bled and ached and bled anew. There was no healing he could find for that, so instead he found distractions.

He fled the confines of the Training Center office just as soon as he'd tracked down Dior's calling card. His message was perhaps more terse than romantic, with no apology at all for how long he had delayed their lunch date. He chose a restaurant not far from his apartment, snapped his fingers at Winnie on his way out the door. "We have business to attend to. Elsewhere."

Not that Dior could be described as business. The man had pleasure written on every razor sharp ab. Perhaps with a glass or wine or two or three he might be able to appreciate that beyond the aesthetics, beyond the theory, beyond his waste of a bleeding heart.

He didn't wait for Winnie to follow him out of the limousine and into the posh restaurant. He had a table reserved near the floor to ceiling windows, overlooking a snaking river that ran through the Capitol. He nodded to the host that it would suit, and then muttered to Winnie. "I don't want to disturbed by any riff raff. Vet anyone who approaches."

He bent to kiss Dior on either side of his face and then settled himself across from the other gentleman. He reached for the wine list first, perusing to find a bottle that would be appropriately jaw dropping, when he felt a presence behind him.

He scowled at Winnie, preparing a series of admonishments, before he fixed a plastic smile to his face and turned.

The Avox behind him was white gloved, his black jacket pinned with a single white rose. The sight of it wiped the smile from his face, temporarily stopped his hemorrhaging heart. He plucked the letter from the Avox's hands and turned to face his companions. "Well," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He used the bread knife to part the paper, unfurled the formal parchment. The President's handwriting was unmistakable. It was not a long missive. Glamour sat still for far longer than it would take to read twice. It was not a request, nothing that required his confirmation or denial. Yet the Avox lingered.

"Well indeed," Glamour said at last. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, he grinned his cheshire grin. "We are going to have the best champagne on the menu." He lifted one finger to his lips conspiratorially; a formal announcement would undoubtedly follow. But he saw no harm in allowing his assistant and Dior in on the news, especially as it was delivered so publicly.

He passed the letter announcing him as the Gamemaker of the Seventy-First Games to his companion. If it shook a little as it left his hands, it was not out of fear or concern. He knew one moment of purest rage. All of his letters, his petitions, his begging and pleading. All of it, and he was given one short of what he deserved.

Sixty Second.

Sixty Seventh.

Seventy SECOND.

So close, only to trip at the finish line. Glamour lifted his flute once he was sure his grip was steady. He spoke to the restaurant at large, but his gaze never wavered from the Avox's face. "A toast, to our President!"

template by anzie

[if I ever said that you can work with Glamour Kinkade, hit me up and you can get in on this xD]

[Arrows]

Gwendolyn 

Harpas

Out of all the years Gwendolyn had spent underneath the glittering wing of a one Glamour Kinkade, none had been as hectic as this one. She had received more, "Gwen do this and Gwen do thats." Than she ever would have liked to hear in her lifetime. However today she had to say had pushed her past the breaking point. Once again he had blatantly over looked her demanding and clear cut schedule to declare that her presence was essential at some fancy bar. Yet what made it worse above all was she was working on the latest arena's final force field checks and as one of the leading arena designers it was infuriating to be dragged away from her work. However she knew if she ever wanted to be a Game Maker she had to obey the foolish man's orders for now.

Footsteps echoed down the halls from all directions as Gwen made her way out of the hovercraft terminal. Over her time working on arenas she had learned that dealing with the rampant halls were the worst as Capitolites flocked to past arenas. Then to make this time even worse than it already was she had a docking area nearly on top of an export to the seventieth arena. Talk about a herd of insane people. Thankfully though Gwendolyn was able to maneuver some what swiftly to her waiting vehicle.

Gwendolyn's fingers continuously beat against her pad as she looked at the force field's systematic results. From what she could tell there was a particular area that had to be handled for managing an uneven surge of power. A-T-14697, she typed quickly in marking the area for repair. With the upcoming seventy first games Gwendolyn herself had been busy as usual but she could not explain why Glamour had been more frantic than usual. It sure as hell wasn't because of Leon since she knew the blonde haired boy was long gone back in District Four.

Breaks hissed through the air as Gwendolyn stepped out of her car and moved swiftly into her building. It took her only seconds to climb the elevator to her private apartment/condo. There she wasted no time in sliding out of her grey working clothes into a nice black gem studded short dress. If Glamour wanted her looking so called "nice and proper." She would do the best she could. So with an irritated smile she left her pad on the counter and rushed back out to her car. 

Luckily the traffic wasn't bad to the designated location and Gwendolyn thanked her driver politely before entering the establishment. Surely enough she found herself the first to arrive before Glamour and all his other associates. However Gwendolyn didn't mind the lack of presence of the practically insane man she worked beneath. To him she was more like a worker bee like Winnie, but she knew she would someday stand taller than him and that was all that mattered to her.

The sound of squealing bar workers announced Glamour's arrival as Gwendolyn casually joined his entourage as they entered. However Gwendolyn had to admit she was rather surprised by just how extravagant Glamour was being this evening. In fact she continued to side eye him as she was poured the bar's finest champagne. Then everything changed and began to click as a grin spilled across her face and her heart began to race.

Several minutes after it being passed around the letter found its way into Gwendolyn's hands. The writing on it made her nearly scream with excitement. Finally for the first time since becoming his underling Gwendolyn would be learning from the head gamemaker. It was all so perfect, yet she couldn't begin to imagine how made he was about the broken pattern he was now given. In fact she couldn't help but stroll up and place a hand on his shoulder.

"Isn't this just wonderful news! Head GameMaker again congratulations Glamour truly! First the sixty second, then the sixty seventh, and now the seventy first! How thrilling! Yes let us toast!" As the liquid ran gently down Gwendolyn's throat she could feel herself laughing beneath the skin. She would enjoy actually learning what it was really like for a change. While also getting to see Glamour's enraged show face, it would be a games to remember that was for sure.

Word Count: 721

[grim.]

D I O R

A morning of beginnings is what this was going to be. I was invited to a lunch date by a rather fine specimen. Also rather rich...desired. Perhaps he was worth my time, he also happened to stimulate me. His looks making it much easier to shift into gold digger mode. He was the complete package, I mean if I wasn't the life of the party I might just have offered up a hand in marriage. I mean this man really could not be beaten by the competition. You see, his eyes just had a way of scaling my body that made me lust for his touch. His mouth looking ever so succulent. I could hardly stand sitting still, but I of course had to remain the keeper of the upper hand. Of course, I was on the hunt, and he the prey. 

I always had a taste for playing with my food, though I had become seemingly annoyed. I was told to be here at a certain time, but I of course made the attempt at being fashionably late. Though he had obviously made a much stronger effort, because I entered only to view an empty table. Being the first one here was never my thing. Though it was little to suffer through for such a valuable finish line. A women with short blonde hair and a rather blank expression stood a distance away but I didn't give much notice to her. He had entered the room, but I had gotten little time to prepare for his glitzy entrance. The women I had noted before joined him and had taken a seat at the table, I wasn't expecting a crowd, hopefully it wouldn't devour my plans. I remain seated at his arrival, I couldn't have him believing that I had too much respect for him. How could I toy with the mind of a superior? 

His lips are closely greeted with either of my cheeks, I cant help but look up in an innocent manor. As he sits I watch his toned body slide into the patented seats. His hair sticking in a way that seemed so unrealistic. I stare at the man across from me, being sure that I have grabbed his attention. My smile slowly replaced with the bite of my lower lip. I was setting out traps, giving some interest. A bottle of wine is ordered, and I wonder at the thought. How drunk could I make Mister Kinkade? I think with a devious smile. 

Just as I begin to get comfortable a message is sent to Glamour, notifying him of a rather exciting title. Glamour Kinkade, Head Gamemaker of the 71st Hunger Games, had a nice ring to it. Oh, how I was going to feast on his power. I raise my glass along with This unnamed women, feeling the sour sensation rush down my throat. This was going to be a night to remember. I sit rather quiet, unsure of what to say. I was very out of place here, to much business, not enough play. I pull at my scarf trying to bring attention to myself. I slowly slide the scarf from my neck, giving a few of my toned pecks beneath my rather thin shirt. I look up at Glamour hoping he takes notice. As usual I was the first to be done with my glass, and quickly ordered another. With what I was going to have to endure with these boring conversations, I would need the boost of confidence.