audrey welder / d2 / fin
Sept 9, 2019 21:49:28 GMT -5
Post by goat on Sept 9, 2019 21:49:28 GMT -5
audrey welder
16
she/her
district 2
16
she/her
district 2
People really only know District Two for a couple things— its Peacekeepers, and its career tributes. It is known for creating some of the most vicious people in Panem. The Peacekeepers uphold the law, sacrificing their moral values to benefit from an unjust system. The careers, whether by choice or by force, train until their bodies break for the slim chance of competing in the Hunger Games. They are built and bred to bring glory to the district.
Audrey was not a career. Even if she was, she figured she wouldn’t be a very good one. She was thin, and short, and had no muscle anywhere on her body. She could train every single day for ten hours and it wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t mind, though. She was more well suited for other things.
Audrey’s mother had been a pageant girl. Isn’t that how it always goes? The pageant girl curse is passed down from matriarch to daughter and so on and so forth. District Two isn’t known much for their pageant circuit, but the tradition has been there since the rebellion was quelled. Putting pretty girls up on stage in fancy dresses is an easy way to distract the public from anything else that might be going on.
So Audrey’s mother’s mother had done it, and Audrey’s mother had done it, and now Audrey was doing it too. Well, she had been doing it for a while. Even when she was younger, too young to compete, she knew she was going to eventually. Her mother had small dresses custom made and did her hair up in curls and slathered makeup all over her face. She made her pose and strut in front of the mirror until she deemed Audrey worthy enough to win a competition. Then she had to take the costume off and do the whole thing again the next day.
Audrey didn’t really resent it. She could, if she tried hard enough, but she didn’t really like to try. She was a bare-minimum type of girl, scooting her way through life with the least amount of effort possible. Her mother had burnt her out at a young age, pushed her too far, and she wasn’t keen on repeating that. It didn’t take too much work to win a pageant anyway. All you had to do was smile, walk straight, make sure your prepared answers were properly memorized.
She had won her first pageant. Six years old, taking the crown over all the other six to ten year olds. Her mother was so proud that she let her have ice cream for the first time in her life. She’d gone on to win her next few pageants, before entering a losing streak that had taken a while to break. Her mother hadn’t been too proud about that. It wasn’t Audrey’s fault— she was doing her best in a system that she hadn’t chosen to enter. All the other girls had been groomed for this since birth, too.
It was a vicious game, just like everything else in Panem.
In a way, she enjoyed it. Getting dressed up felt nice. She liked the silky dress fabric, the tulle skirts, the shoes with heels sharp enough to stab. She liked the dark eyeshadow on her eyes and the clear gloss on her lips. It was fun to be fancy. Getting judged on every aspect of your appearance and personality wasn’t very fun, but Audrey knew how to deal with it. She was stone cold under all those layers of makeup. Nothing could get to her.
She had lost her most recent pageant. Her mother had requested to see the score sheets in a typical post-loss tantrum and made Audrey pour over them with her. She had lost by two points. Two little points. The judges had marked her down in appearance because she hadn’t smiled wide enough. The girl who had won, some fresh-faced fourteen year old, had a mouth full of new acrylic teeth that her parents had paid for.
“You’re not pulling my teeth out,” Audrey said.
Her mother didn’t respond.
Audrey was not a career. Even if she was, she figured she wouldn’t be a very good one. She was thin, and short, and had no muscle anywhere on her body. She could train every single day for ten hours and it wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t mind, though. She was more well suited for other things.
Audrey’s mother had been a pageant girl. Isn’t that how it always goes? The pageant girl curse is passed down from matriarch to daughter and so on and so forth. District Two isn’t known much for their pageant circuit, but the tradition has been there since the rebellion was quelled. Putting pretty girls up on stage in fancy dresses is an easy way to distract the public from anything else that might be going on.
So Audrey’s mother’s mother had done it, and Audrey’s mother had done it, and now Audrey was doing it too. Well, she had been doing it for a while. Even when she was younger, too young to compete, she knew she was going to eventually. Her mother had small dresses custom made and did her hair up in curls and slathered makeup all over her face. She made her pose and strut in front of the mirror until she deemed Audrey worthy enough to win a competition. Then she had to take the costume off and do the whole thing again the next day.
Audrey didn’t really resent it. She could, if she tried hard enough, but she didn’t really like to try. She was a bare-minimum type of girl, scooting her way through life with the least amount of effort possible. Her mother had burnt her out at a young age, pushed her too far, and she wasn’t keen on repeating that. It didn’t take too much work to win a pageant anyway. All you had to do was smile, walk straight, make sure your prepared answers were properly memorized.
She had won her first pageant. Six years old, taking the crown over all the other six to ten year olds. Her mother was so proud that she let her have ice cream for the first time in her life. She’d gone on to win her next few pageants, before entering a losing streak that had taken a while to break. Her mother hadn’t been too proud about that. It wasn’t Audrey’s fault— she was doing her best in a system that she hadn’t chosen to enter. All the other girls had been groomed for this since birth, too.
It was a vicious game, just like everything else in Panem.
In a way, she enjoyed it. Getting dressed up felt nice. She liked the silky dress fabric, the tulle skirts, the shoes with heels sharp enough to stab. She liked the dark eyeshadow on her eyes and the clear gloss on her lips. It was fun to be fancy. Getting judged on every aspect of your appearance and personality wasn’t very fun, but Audrey knew how to deal with it. She was stone cold under all those layers of makeup. Nothing could get to her.
She had lost her most recent pageant. Her mother had requested to see the score sheets in a typical post-loss tantrum and made Audrey pour over them with her. She had lost by two points. Two little points. The judges had marked her down in appearance because she hadn’t smiled wide enough. The girl who had won, some fresh-faced fourteen year old, had a mouth full of new acrylic teeth that her parents had paid for.
“You’re not pulling my teeth out,” Audrey said.
Her mother didn’t respond.
