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Hunger Games 2: Grandeur
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Chariot Rides
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[deleted user]
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Nov 11, 2020 05:59AM
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![dagger [ain't that a kick in the head] (aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh) | 1171 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1655308429p1/106560415.jpg)
Mod
If your district doesn’t have a stylist thingy yet, just go ahead and make something up.
Sorry.))
Mod
Lavi stood on the chariot, looking around with a cold glare. The crowd clapped politely, but they clearly didn’t think much of him. Don’t worry, the feeling is mutual, He wanted to tell them. The petal suit wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he had expected it to be, but the dandelion tucked behind his ear was definitely bothering him. He reached up and pulled it out, tossing it to the side. It should’ve landed on the ground and been crushed by the chariot wheels, but it got caught on the wind and landed in the crowd somewhere, and the Capitolites started cheering. He rolled his eyes. Fucking wind making me look like I like these assholes.
Mod
(It’s gonna be amazinggggg)
Mod
He’ll be cooler on a day where my writing skills don’t decide to abandon me though XD)
Mod
The crowds weren’t interested in her. She knew that. She didn’t care, though.
She didn’t play to their interest. No waves or smiles. She just looked. Her mind raced faster than the chariot wheels beneath her feet.
Her heeled, uncomfortable feet. Her brown leather and bronze boots were fitted well enough, but for a thirteen-year-old who had never been in heels, this was an experience in itself. She wore a ridiculous dress with white, capped sleeves and a stiff leather bodice over it, decorated with straps and bronze gears in a complex pattern that she’d wanted to analyze.
The skirt was puffed out over her knees, full and frilly and utterly senseless in her opinion. Why were there so many ruffles and swaths over the already-full fabric?
Underneath this, black-and-bronze stockings ran down her legs into her boots, decorated with more wirelike ornamentation.
She looked like an antique trinket.
Her clothing was utterly ridiculous in her eyes, but the people of the Capitol didn’t blink an eye. In fact, she noted, they were dressed in similarly outlandish fashions. She’d heard of and seen several...not-quite-tasteful getups, but in District Three everything was gray and simple and bland.
There were people calling her name, she realized. Straight black hair brushed her jawline as she turned, making eye contact with faces in the stands. It was disconcerting, to be known. Recognized.
Elektra nodded, barely hoping it was seen as polite and not condescending, and they clapped. A white and gold handkerchief fluttered down by her shoulder, and she plucked it out of the air, examining it. Silk - Capitol make, obviously. She hadn’t expected anything less un-tastefully luxurious.
She gave a polite smile to the section of the stands that the handkerchief had come from, not sure why she was thanking them for something so...useless. But she might as well act nice.
Elektra tucked the kerchief into the tool belt at her waist, the only part of her outfit she was okay with. Despite the bronze metalwork overlaying the whole thing.
Maybe her few supporters hadn’t suspected that. They applauded. What did they even think about the gesture? She’d put away a token from her “admirers”. Everyone at home had told her she overthought everything. She wondered what they’d think of the Capitolites.
Ridiculous, she thought, for the dozenth time that day.
Mod
He’ll be cooler on a day where my writing skills don’t decide to abandon me though XD)"
(mine just never came)
((Dayum girlllllll! I wish I could write lol. But I've got stuff to do today so I'm not gonna do chariots :3))
Mod
I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME
BUT I WILL NEVER GET OVER HOW AMAZING OF A WRITER YOU ARE))
Mod
(maybe you can still post tomorrow if we leave the topic open)
Mod
I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME
BUT I WILL NEVER GET OVER HOW AMAZING OF A WRITER YOU ARE))"
(I'm not that good but thank you)
Mod
I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME
BUT I WILL NEVER GET OVER HOW AMAZING OF A WRITER YOU ARE))"
((SAME))
Mod
Mod
I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME
BUT I WILL NEVER GET OVER HOW AMAZING OF A WRITER YOU ARE))"
(I'm not that good but thank you)"
((BRO YOU’RE AMAZING))
Mod
I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME
BUT I WILL NEVER GET OVER HOW AMAZING OF A WRITER YOU ARE))"
(I'm not that good but thank you)"
((B..."
(NO I'M NOT)
(MY BOOK IS ME BULLSHITTING EVERYTHING BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S HAPPENING)
Mod
Mod
I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME
BUT I WILL NEVER GET OVER HOW AMAZING OF A WRITER YOU ARE))..."
((SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE))
Mod
I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME
BUT I WILL NEVER GET OVER HOW AMAZING OF A WRITER YOU ARE))..."
((YOU'RE SO GOOD))
Pandora's icy grey eyes watched over the crowds, her gaze steely and hard, not betraying any emotion. As she entered on her chariot, standing side by side of the male tribute from her district, she tuned out the screaming and cheering of the crowd, focusing ahead of her instead. Her red jacket clung to her upper body as she stood with her fist over her chest. Strong. Fearless. Bold. Everything she was told to be her whole life. She looks terrifying. Threatening. Imposing. Everything her father taught her to be. The crowd cheered louder as they moved forward. She raised her hand in a salute and the crowd went off, cheering and howling like wolves for her. She was pretty proud of her stylist for this one. Pandora was never one for style but she looked pretty fearsome if she said so herself. She wore a maroon military esque jacket with a billowing layered skirt and straight leg black pants underneath. The golden embroidery was an even better touch, making her outfit appear feminine yet strong. Her stylist had given her scary yet comfortable black boots to complete the outfit as well as dragon earrings and a terrifying black crown with her hair woven around it. The black pearls in her braid glittered in the light. Finally, she turned her head to the right, to the left, and she nodded, allowing a small fleeting smile to take over her lips and in those moments, she felt pretty. Something she rarely felt. She always looked scary to her peers. She was pretty is a threatening way that made people fear her. Avoid her. The crowd was whooping, men were whistling and she reached out, holding the male tribute's hand as their chariot moved away.
(( that was choppy- i haven't written at all during break oh dear ))
Mod
Logan Hibbets smiled timidly at the cheering crowd, knowing they wanted a show, but not wanting to be at the center of their attention. He didn’t know what to think of his District 8 outfit. The long gray coat was making him sweat (or maybe that was his nerves) and it was too small around his shoulders, but the golden yellow trim was neat. The pants were just okay - loose, blood red and fastened around his waist with a thick tan belt - but the knee high boots were simply uncomfortable. They were dark brown and painfully chafed at his toes and blisters were slowly starting to form on his heels.Logan sighed, wanting to get this over with, and started drumming his fingers against the chariot railing.
Aiden Miller's face ached from grinning so much. But she wouldn't stop, as that was how she planned to win the games. Just smile and flirt until she was the last tribute standing. In all honestly she had as much love for the Capitol and their sheltered citizens as an ingrown toenail. But these words would never exit her mouth. They all were so weak. They had no idea about hard work. If being honest with herself, Aiden would have to admit that her looks saved her from the brunt of work in district nine. But she was liked to think that what she lacked in strength she made up for in brains and strategy. So, Aiden smiled and waved and blew kisses to the Capitol like she really gave a crap about being there and hoped the sponsors would roll in.
Apollo stood atop his chariot, trying to not look like he wanted to murder everyone in the crowds. But unless it was a scowl or a grimace, his face was usually expressionless. He tried to smile at the Capitol but he was sure it wasn't convincing and he didn't expect to get any sponsors. Whatever, he bitterly thought. I don't need their freaking help to win this games. Although he knew that wasn't true and he was as close to being terrified as he'd ever been in his life.
Mod
The crowd could sense something off about her.
The way she smiled had a malicious, twisted feel behind it. Yet they didn’t care.
All they saw was a killer.
All they saw was a Career.
All they saw was a winner.
But she wasn’t here to win.
No, quite the opposite in fact.
She traced a finger down the scar on her face, feeling the familiar curves. The hairpin she kept only for sentimental reasons clasped a thick strand of her dark hair back. When she moved, the crowd caught a glimpse of amber flashing underneath.
The dress Amarissa wore was not to her liking; it was too plain. Of course, she’d spiced it up. She had added a turquoise hat, matching the dress, that dipped down her forehead, French style. A diamond studded feather was perched on top, paired with a simple matching necklace.
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, her black eyes glittering. If you looked too deeply into them, you would find yourself lost in a sea of red. An endless pit of darkness.
Her gaze flitted around the crowd, and in the corner, she saw a shadow of her parents, waving to her. And there stood her sister, face awash with jealousy. All of a sudden, her parents vanished.
Amarissa felt her heart twinge. Even though it wasn’t real, it felt real. It felt much too real. Memories were never really forgotten, were they? But her sister was still there, with the same expression plastered across her face. Suddenly, her sister’s hands grew into claws. She could feel the claws clamping around her wrist.
As soon as it had started, it was over.
She was shaking, she could feel the ground falling beneath her.
Suck it up, buttercup. If she was going to make this work, she couldn’t be seen as vulnerable. Which was good, because she wasn’t vulnerable. Amarissa Cortez was not a weak piece of shit. She would make sure they never forgot that.
Scars bore reminders of the past.
And lucky for her, she had a lot of them.
Both physically and mentally.
She could imagine the arena, fires exploding and the whole thing crashing down behind her. She could also imagine kissing goodbye the world, left in the ruins that she had created. The delightful prospect was the only thing that kept her moving. Chaos. Destruction. Bloodshed.
The knowledge that she was right. And that she would always be right. That the world was full of fools.
Eyeing the other tributes around her, Amarissa almost burst out into laughter. They were either showing off, shaking with fear, or assessing the crowd coldly. They would realize what idiots they were when they were dead.
They would realize that living had no purpose, because it keeps moving. You live, you die, and then what? Life went on. No one remembered you, a hundred years later. The capitol made them think that living still had a purpose, and one purpose only – winning the games.
Again, she almost laughed.
Her only purpose was destroying what she left behind.
Her mind wandered back to her parents. She needed to let them go. Why did she care that they had died anyway?
They were harsh, cruel, and only cared about her training. Why did she still care? She knew the answer. It was her sister. Even thinking about her was painful, so she steered clear. Instead, Amarissa focused on the present. And more importantly, the future.
She raised a hand, the vicious smile still twisted on her lips. Then she waved.
The crowd went wild, throwing roses at the chariot and screaming her name. She bent down a picked up a rose, a white one. Pressing her lips to the inside of the flower, she tossed it back into the crowd.
Let them think what they want.
Let them see a Victor in you.
They won’t understand until the storm hits them.
((by the way, she has a traumatic past with her sister as well.
but that will remain a mystery for now.))
((DAYUM THAT'S GOOD! Welp my parents said that I'm "good at writing" but like-- my writing is crap compared to that so apparently I've got nothing going for me))
Mod
((*raises an eyebrow* But anyway I love love love her))
Mod
((Welp just checked my Wattpad and for some reason people wanna publish my story on Webnovel (it's an app) but like it's only one chapter and it's not very good so like who the heck gonna read it like seriously))
Mod
Mod
[[Hehehehehe. I am sooo late on this... XD]]
Xia looked out at the crowd with bright eyes, wide. She clutched the chariot’s rim tightly—in turn cutting off the blood flow to her poor fingers—and seemed to hang on for dear life as it rolled after the others. Almost forgetting for a moment, the girl lifted a hand to wave at the nearby people, but then hastily resumed her death grip as she almost fell over. Xia was never considered. She glanced up at her chariot partner, and giggled at the height difference. Compared to the tiny twelve-year-old, he looked giant! Xia turned away, a bit shy, and gazed back over the crowds. She looked adorable in the flowey dress and flowers, both of which had succeeded in making Xia look her age and innocence. She definitely didn’t fit in with the other tributes. Xia gave up trying to wave for fear of falling over, so instead, she gave their audience a big, bright, adorable smile—and the crowds loved it.
((Aww. She’s adorable! I don’t want her to die!))
[[Neither do I... BUT there's absolutely no way she's gonna win. XD She's literally a second Alynthi...]]
((Hey she fits in...with Fey...the other tiny adorable shy 12-year-old... maybe they should be allies lol))
((I think Liam's gonna be Fey's ally/protector as well so maybe the three of them can buddy up as long as Asha's okay with it))
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