The Tribute on Fire discussion

"Ladies and gentlemen, here's your host... Caesar Flickman!"

Here is where you post your tribute's interview and chariot ride...

For the Chariot Rides:
Make sure to include your tribute’s costume (picture please), reaction to their costume, reaction to their partner’s costume, reaction and interaction with the crowd, and their final thoughts before returning to their rooms. This will account for a very small portion of your tribute’s training score, but it will still benefit you in doing it.

((You may direct message your chariot ride(s) to either of the mods if you don’t want to post it on here.))

For the Interviews:
You should include both your tribute’s costume and hair(picture please), and your tribute's and Caesar’s dialogue, and make sure that Caesar’s is bolded. ((Remember, to bold remove the “.” in <.b> and <./b> in the following example: <.b>”Why you look lovely tonight.”<./b>)) The interviews will account for a very small portion of your tribute’s training score, but it will still benefit you to complete them.

((You may direct message your interview(s) to either of the mods if you don’t want to post it on here.))

Lake Emerald Winters
District 4- Female
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Chariot Ride:
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Lake adjusted the shimmering folds of her dress, and moved the blue netting shawl into a more comfortable position. The dress really was beautiful, adorned with pearls and seashells. She didn’t like her stylist’s personality, but he was amazing when it came to design.

When Lake caught sight of Lence, her jaw dropped. He- for the first time- wore pants and a shawl, but the thing that surprised her wasn't because it looked super amazing or super weird, it was because he was just extremely noticeable. He would attract the attention of anyone, with the amazing makeup. Hopefully, her looks would make the odds in her favor at least a bit. Hopefully.

She just wished he would stop jealously glaring at her dress.

Lake stood on the chariot now, and finally they exited the little holding area, guided by pale golden horses. As they came out, screams were emitted from the crowd. In a screen, Lake thought that the costume looked amazing. Lake did her best to act cheery and happy, blowing kisses, laughing, smiling. The crowd cheered.

Next to her, Lence jumped up and down, waving his arms. She was almost afraid the chariot would tip over! But he was stealing the show. The audience screamed and cheered "District 4". Lake felt like an idiot, smiling so calmly. So she started waving, smiling, catching roses, with vigor. Okay, she wasn't holding Lence's hands and jumping up and down, but at least she wasn't being overlooked.

And then it was over. On the elevator ride back to her rooms, Lake felt a bit confident; now she just had to be able to get through the interview.

[UNDER CONSTRUCTION:]


Interview:
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Hazel Nash
District One

Chariots:
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Hazel gazed at her appearance in the mirror, glaring at the hideously colored dress she wore. The actual dress was quite pretty, but the color was awful. She was disgusted. She also didn’t like the things attached to her wrists. She looked around for something sharp, lifting the pair of scissors on the makeup table and cutting the straps on her wrists, allowing the fabric behind her to fall and flow like a cape. Hazel would have much rather had a cape than ugly straps on her wrists. Her mentor called for her, and she rolled her eyes, but obliged and yanked the headband off her head before hustling over to her mentor.

“What did you do?!” her mentor wailed, looking at Hazel’s modifications to her outfit. She could tell her mentor thought it looked nicer, but was required to complain about it. Hazel just rolled her eyes and stepped into the chariot, staring straight ahead, not bothering to acknowledge her partner at all. Only when the chariot lurched forward and emerged from the tunnel did Hazel acknowledge anyone at all. She put on her fake smile and waved to the crowd, laughing and pointing at the citizens she recognized. The crowd screamed their adorations for the tributes, and Hazel continued her act of laughing and smiling for the rest of the night, even during the president’s speech. She laughed and smiled, then laughed and smiled more on the way back to the loading area, and as soon as she was out of the view of the Capitol’s eyes, her scowl returned and she stormed up to her room, where she spent the night walloping herself in her own depression and anger.

Interviews:
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Hazel sat on the steps to the stage, her chin resting on her hand and a frown on her face. She scowled at her mentor, who had yet again (surprise, surprise!) angered her. She hated her dress, but she didn’t mind her hair. It looked nice. But that wasn’t what she was thinking about, not at the moment anyway. She was thinking about how long it was taking the stupid stage crew to set up, and how loud Caesar was (she could hear him from the que, and he was simply aiding in the preparations). Hazel knew she would be the first one to go, and frankly wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. Yeah, she didn’t mind, but if she had her choice, she’d be going somewhere in the middle. Not that she didn’t want to be remembered, they’d remember her, she was sure, she just didn’t like the idea of being the first one. She felt like the trial, the guinea pig, the warm up maybe. Not that Caesar wouldn’t do his job, but he wouldn’t do it as well.

Hazel heard the last of the tests being run, and the final adjustments to the lighting setup. She turned her head just in time to see Caesar take his place, sitting in the same, white chair that he always did. She also spotted the empty white seat next to him, that was soon to be occupied by twenty-four different tributes about to be subject to their deaths. Hazel made her way to her feet, thankful that her stylist had chosen flats instead of heels. Apparently, they had tried to make her look as innocent and sweet as possible, but she was neither innocent, nor was she sweet. It hadn’t worked, to say the least, and both Hazel and her stylist knew that. At the very least, she looked pretty in what she was wearing. But that was about it.

Hazel listened to the sounds of the roaring applause as the lights flickered on and the music began for the Capitol’s first few shots and Caesar’s introduction. She waited on the side of the stage, rocking back and forth from her heels to her toes, waiting impatiently to get her interview over with. She wasn’t excited, nor was she entertained by the idea of being interviewed, but she knew better than to mess it up. Sponsors looked at interviews (among other things), and that meant that it was important. Hazel stared right at Caesar, watching as he stood and waved his arm in her direction. Noticing the que, Hazel climbed the steps and walked out onto the stage, faking smiles and waving to the lively studio audience who greeted her with roars of applause.

Why hello Miss Hazel,” Caesar said, guiding Hazel into her seat. She faked a smile and refrained from rolling her eyes, and added in a small (and fake) laugh to add to her show. ”I’d introduce you more but I think we’re all quite familiar with you already.” Caesar chuckled and smiled with his comical grin.

“Hello Caesar,” Hazel replied, still holding her fake smile, even though she desperately wanted to scowl and sulk and scream at the Capitol to leave her alone. She blinked her eyes at the camera flashes from the audience, angered that the press had wriggled their way into the interviews. “And hello to all of you of course!” Hazel waved her arm to encompass the entire audience, who roared with delight. Caesar chuckled, motioning for the audience to quiet down.

”Now now,” he said, addressing the audience, who quieted after only a moment. Caesar turned back to Hazel before saying, ”Might I just say that you look lovely tonight Hazel. Simply lovely.”

Hazel, before the audience could roar their approval, replied, “Why thank you Caesar. The only problem is, I feel like a snowman in so much white.” The audience laughed at her joke, and some clapped a bit as well. Hazel furrowed her brow to add extra effect. “Do I look like a snowman Caesar?” Caesar chuckled and shook his head.

”No, no. You look fine,” Caesar said with a laugh, a familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. ”Do tell me dear Hazel, does is sadden you at all to be in the Games?” What kind of question was that? Hazel furrowed her brow, knowing she would have to lie, just as she had been for the whole interview.

“Of course. If I don’t make it, which I think we all know is highly unlikely,” Hazel said with a forced wink. “Then I’ll miss all my friends and fans, and… And Jackson.” It almost pained her to say every word she was saying, to fake all the smiles and laughs and winks. In fact, it did pain her. It pained her to do what she was doing. She just wished the interview would be over. But alas, it was not, and she heard the audience murmur words of pity or words that expressed their sorrow. Hazel brushed every last one of them to the side, completely ignoring their stupid condolences. She wasn’t even in the Games yet!

”Well Miss Hazel, I know we’ll all be rooting for you. Am I right folks?!” Caesar shouted, waving his arms to encourage the crowd to cheer and holler, which is exactly what they did. Hazel would have had to cover her ears, had she not been accustomed to it. ”Hazel… Will you sing for us? I’ve heard that you can sing.” Hazel’s eyes widened, shocked at Caesar’s request. She figured this would be her time to be rebellious, for she knew her interview would be almost over. So, she nodded, and then she sang the song she knew was forbidden. But she sang it anyways.

”Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree?
Where they strung up a man,
They say who murdered three.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be,
If we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree?
Where the dead man called out,
For his love to flee.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be,
If we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree?
Where I told you to run,
So we'd both be free.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be,
If we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you,
Coming to the tree?
Wear a necklace of rope,
Side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here,
No stranger would it be,
If we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree."

The crowd seemed to be in awe of what she had said, and the buzzer had sounded just before she sang the last line. They ended it early… Hazel thought. They ended it early, to stop me. Hazel simply smirked at the Capitol audience, as if they had asked for it (which they had), and walked off the stage. She returned to her room and went to sleep, repeating the lyrics of the song she had known for so long, and hummed around the house so often. She repeated the lyrics of the song that had forced her to hold on once or twice, when she was thinking of committing suicide all those years ago.

female~
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[working on in google docs]

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Aimee Briars
District VIII
Age 14

Chariot Ride


Interview

o u t f i t
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( But with her signature bow at the back center)


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