jamie_winchester
Cluster
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2010
Sienna
Sienna Schyler looked around her, eyes taking in the sights that were no longer the familiar sights of district 12, or the woods around it. But this was the capital, straded with a man she didn't know, and a drunk that didn't seem intending to sober up enough to help either of them. Peeta Mellark was two years older then her at 17, but the space o two years might have as well been a lifetime. Last year, she had seen him live through the games...in fact, everyone here had won a victory in the most vicious game known to man, the hunger games. But her. Everyone but her had killed.
Sienna trembled a little swallowing hard as she looked at Cinna, her stylist, before looking down at the slightly flickering dress she was wearing. She wondered if it had been originally made for the original girl on fire, Katniss, or if Cinna just wanted to keep the theme of fire going. With her lightly tanned skin, she looked like candlelight, flickering, threatening to wink out.
Stepping into the chariot she swallowed hard as she kept her eyes forward, refusing to look around her, look for help in a capital she knew no one was there to help. There were victors here, and she was just someone to push aside in their rush to the top. Barely reacting to Peeta stepping up next to her, she focused on watching the victor's get ready for the tribute march through the city circle, and hoped that death would find her quickly.
~~**~~
jace
Jace Masons frowned a little as he surveyed the crowd around him, of all the hunger games that he despised watching, he thought he was going to despise participating in this one the most. After all, everyone in this arena had proven that they were willing to kill to save their own lives, and had killed bloodily and frequently. And trained others to do so. Yes, for the crowd who loved their victors, and more then willing to send them back, it was going to be a show that only came once in a lifetime.
Shaking his head to clear it from the morbid thoughts he let a small, wicked smirk curl his lips. He might have ended his own game in a accidently gutting, but since then,he'd sat through 6 games, and learned quickly that once you stripped away everything, everyone was willing to kill.Even him. Every year, he sent his champion into the arena, and this year, once again it was going to be him.
Blinking in the lights of cameras and streetlights as his chariot started into the city circle, he forced himself to not wave or respond to the cheers. He would not give these bastards the pleasure of seeing him tremble and desperate, even if he was.He was young, he was deseperate to survive but he wouldn't do it. At least not play for the cameras, because he wanted to keep part of himself, for himself.
Looking briefly down at the form fitting scuba suit he was wearing, the dark green material highlighting the toned body under it, more then he hid it. Looking around, he knew that there was no such thing as standing out, not with everyone waiting for their favorite to die in a gladiator's arena.