|
Post by HEAD GAMEMAKER on Jun 9, 2015 4:21:37 GMT
The victory tour for the 30th Hunger Games has begun! Posting will be closed on June 22nd following an announcement from our beloved President @alistair. Enjoy the festivities while you can!
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Jun 16, 2015 6:52:53 GMT
Lizzie found her way to the town square, though it was an event that everyone had to attend with her grandmother feeling under the weather she had stayed behind, the peacekeepers wanted to make sure that it wasn't a ploy to avoid the event and it hurt her knowing that she might loose her grandmother sooner rather than later. Sighing she made her way through the crowd to stand at the front of the group and watched as they began to introduce Freya, the winner of the last hunger games. She was so young and yet already lost so much, she sighed shaking her head knowing that she might have to face this at some point. If she was lucky enough to survive.
|
|
|
Post by Deleted on Jun 16, 2015 8:30:39 GMT
It was horrible. Day eight. By this time, she had memorized the speech her mentor had written for her and, somehow, had gotten used to being stared at by what seems like millions of oppressed and angry people all wishing she were dead. Right now, Freya was standing at the top of the stairs in District Four. There was something salty about the air here. It was warm, which was strange for the winter time, and her designer seemed to be more than aware of it. It took everything she had not to fidget uncomfortably in front of the crowd. In the back of her head, Freya could hear the afflicted voice of her mentor chiding her look of discomfort, "No one wants to look at an awkward tribute." The voice said in her ear.
Freya was in a slinky sliver dress with a low cut back and a slit that went higher than she really appreciated. The silky material fluttered in the breeze that seemed to come right off the water and whip her hair around her face. She stood in front of the mic and tried for a smile but felt like she probably got something between a blank stare and a grimace. She recited the words into the mic like lines in a script, which they basically were, and finished with her best, fake smile.
Stepping off the stage, Freya tried her best to walk at a steady pace that suggested she had years of experience on high, teetering high heels. Which of course she didn't. She smiled at someone who looked like they might have been the mayor and he said something she couldn't here over the party as it started up in the town square.
|
|