The 88th Hunger Games Victor Presentation

[d9 kristof parks {ems}]

The 88th games have come to an end, and Zsófia is pleased. She stands in the midst of the city circle with a huge smile spreading across her face waiting to mount the stage. Being a gamemaker was a dream, but being able to place the crown upon a victor's head is one of the highest honors ever. This is the moment she's been waiting for. Even from a young age, her desire to place a crown upon the victor's head was only a dream, but now this moment is a reality. She holds the crown in her hand as she stands before the pedestal. The games, in her eyes, was a success between the blood, death, and heartbreak to satisfy the viewers, and for the first game, it's one Zsófia is proud of, and it is her hope that her fellow gamemakers are just as pleased as her.

Avriel Baptiste narrowly pulled out the win after a close fight with Aspen Peake, but in the end, District Nine is bringing home their first victor in over two decades. If President Snow was still alive, Zsófia might've felt more nervous, but here in this moment the only thing she feels is pure excitement.

She stood ready to face the crowd knowing that Avriel was just below the stage waiting to rise for all Panem to see. Taking a breath, she mounted the stage to a huge applause, and she quickly silenced everyone with a wave of the hand. "Ladies and gentleman, I am pleased to welcome you to the victor presentation ceremony of the Eighty-Eighth Hunger Games!" A deafening roar ripped through the crowd before growing silent once more. "Stayed tuned for the showing of the recap video tonight after the presentation."

Zsófia goes on announcing the prep team, stylists, escort, and mentor of the victor; all of which were welcomed with a tremendous applause. Now was the moment all of Panem was waiting for. The smile spread even further across her face; "And now, I present to you the victor of the Eighty-Eight Hunger Games... Avriel Baptiste!"

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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. Also, apologies for the delay in getting this up!

[gamemaker kelsier]

The training centre is a funhouse-

he stares at himself in the mirror in the elevator, knowing something's missing but unable to say what that is out loud. He feels warped, stretched thin, scarred skin like latticework over barely healed flesh. They've dusted powdered makeup over most of it, sewn him into a suit and called him ready.

Avriel doesn't feel ready, there are all these people standing around him and not one of them is looking at him. Gloria stares at her phone and the cameraman flirts with a stylist and Robbie's talking to the other. So Avriel stares at Scout and his reflection and tries not to think about how the last time he rode this elevator, Fleur was beside him.

The last time he saw her after that was the Bloodbath but it still feels weird to be doing this without her.

Gloria hasn't brought her up yet and Avriel begins to wonder if her other tribute ever mattered at all to her. After a few days around her and the rest though, Avriel's come to realize that Capitolites are just like that. Pretty shells, but empty. It could have been Fleur or him and they would have been happy because neither of them ever mattered like that.

And he decides that they don't matter either.

"Hey, Avriel, I told you to leave Scout in the room," Gloria snaps at him and then goes right back to her phone conversation. "Teenagers!" she says to whomever's on the other end, "They're all the same, even Victors!"

He smiles a little at his reflection, then his smile fades again as the elevator door opens with a harsh ding.

He has to face them now, the crowds again.

And his foot hurts but it doesn't, but it does. His ankle burns at the seam, as if it's been set aflame. Then his shoulder, it twists every now and then, a wave of pain sliding up his collar bone to nest at the back of his skull, beating at odd times.

It's like a reminder.

Aspen. Aspen. Aspen.

The sound of his knife landing in her skin.

"Avriel, go."

His entourage is already halfway down the basement hall and Avriel has to hurry to keep up. Gloria waves him forward onto a little platform and he stands where he's told. A voice echoes above him and it's one he could recognize anywhere.

She's the one who did the announcement the night that he killed Areto.

He shudders, eyes shut briefly.

Scout rattles softly on his shoulder, "I know," he tells the kodama, "me too... me too."

He's never been good at being looked at but he's about to be seen by all of Panem. It's different than being in the arena, different from sitting on that beach, waiting to die. It didn't matter then if he was being watched because he couldn't see them all back.

But now all eyes will be on him; they'll see straight through him and Avriel isn't ready for that, he just wanted to go home. After everything he's been through, he just wants to see his brother and sister again.

But they can't let him have that, not yet.

The platform starts to rise as the Gamemaker finishes introducing him. Avriel adjusts his balance as fear ripples through him under the surface. He doesn't show it, he can't show it, can't let them see just how scared he is of them. So he settles himself and rises.

He rises because he doesn't have a choice.

He never had one.

The sound is all there is at first, the lights trained on him spot his vision and Avriel winces, stepping back from it even as it tries to envelope him. Then a crown is placed on his head and he's prodded forward again. Avriel is stuck in place, fear keeping him rooted to the spot.

"For Panem's sake, Avriel, Smile!" Gloria says through his ear piece.

He raises a shaking hand, offers a wave, and they scream his name but he can't smile, this could have been anyone. In the end , it was him, it was just luck.

"What made your life worth more than theirs?"

Celui qui n’avance pas, recule.*

He who does not move forward, recedes.

He didn't want that to be him, laying on the shore growing smaller and smaller as Reece rowed away. Once he'd made that choice, it was already decided.

Avriel smiles for the crowd.

And he dreams of the train ride home.