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Post by atticus savoy kai on Jul 25, 2011 20:12:02 GMT -5
Atticus stood in the roped off area, his fists clenched behind his back. His dark eyes bored a hole into the escort as she reached for the names in the large glass bowls. Children of varying sizes surrounded him. He was in the back, for he was one of the oldest. Atticus winced as her nails grated against the glass.
She pulled out the crisp paper, unfolded it and cleared her voice. She called out the boy's name. The boy, a few rows in front of Atticus, collapsed from shock. His mother, somewhere in the crowd, began to wail. Atticus searched for his 'mother', the eighty year old woman who had raised him. Her knotted hands were crossed on her cane and she was hunched over. But she had a presence and Atticus found her easily. She nodded at him, her necklaces chinking in the silence.
Atticus walked forward, pushing past the other children. He did not even look at the boy. "I will take his place." Atticus said. The woman looked stunned.
"That comes later. Surely you know...?"
Atticus waved his off and stared at her with his piercing eyes. "Whatever. I volunteer. Does it matter when?"
"N-no..."
"Good. I'm Atticus Kai. Eighteen." Atticus climbed onto the platform and faced the crowd. One family looked very much relieved. His mother looked satisfied.
Atticus shook off the memory and looked at himself in the mirror. What were the stylists going to do to him? He hoped it wouldn't be too bad. Atticus looked away from his reflection and began to silently look through the drawers for any important information. He doubted anything could be found in a lowly remake center, but still, he had his orders and he had to look everywhere.
The only thing of note he found was the name of his mentor, Shimmer. He remembered her games. Maybe he would have a shot this time around...
Atticus heard a noise behind him, near the door. He shut the drawer and sat back on the chair he had been placed in. He stared at himself in the mirror, barely blinking.
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Post by shimmer gleam stone on Jul 26, 2011 16:10:11 GMT -5
s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i just keep chasing pavements even though it | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S T O N O W H E R E | | [atrb=width,240] Technically, Shimmer was supposed to be with her own remake team. But seeing as she was a victor, and she was already presentable, she had told her stylist to take the day off so she could be alone to reminisce about her first time in the Remake Center.
She hadn't been scared when she'd arrived at the Capitol. Excitement had been racing through her system. She'd been nervous to enter the games with Reagan, sure, but she'd been excited. People were going to know her face. Sure she thought she'd be dead in a matter of weeks, but the point remained that she was going to be well known.
And then she'd gotten into the arena. She was lucky enough to be in the Career Pack. And she'd ended up winning. This was a positive and negative thing. For one, she had won, and she got to spend more time at the Capitol. But she had lost the man she loved and was now forced to play the lover of Capitol citizens or risk having her family and friends killed. And Haymitch Abernathy was enough of an example to force her into compliance.
So now here she was, her second year as a mentor, and she was stuck with two alright kids. Ruby and Atticus. She had high hopes for them both. She was actually going on a secret trip to visit them both. First, though, was Atticus. As Shimmer wandered toward his room, she adjusted her dress and rubbed at the "13" she had doodled onto the top of her hand. If anyone asked from the Capitol, it was the number of people she had helped kill or killed herself in the arena, but if the right people saw it, it was a symbol of where her loyalties were. So far, no one had figured it out, and she was glad that no one had confronted her with how she knew anything about Thirteen.
Her pink dress swooshed at her knees as she came to a stop in front of Atticus' remake room. She didn't bother to knock, but took her time in opening the door. When she finally peeked her head in through the doorframe, she saw her tribute staring at himself in the mirror. She smirked and made her way over to stand behind him then placed both hands on the back of his chair.
"You're not that pretty, you don't need to stare," she said softly, bending down to speak into his ear. "Or are you regretting volunteering?" | [atrb=width,100]words ,432 words tagged ,atticus notes ,wearing |
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Post by atticus savoy kai on Jul 28, 2011 15:39:28 GMT -5
Atticus whipped around at the high pitched voice. He almost expected one of those weird guys from the capitol. Instead he found Shimmer Stone, his mentor and victor of District One. Atticus's face hardened as he looked at her. "I don't care about my looks. They mean nothing." He said coldly, looking her over. His eyes caught on the 13 on her hand. He subconsciously rubbed the back of his own hand, the same exact spot where hers was written.
Atticus' dark eyes snapped up to hers. "I regret nothing." He told her. He took a step closer to her. "What are you here for? And why is there a thirteen written on your hand?" He asked quietly, his eyes boring a hole into her. "A dangerous number to have, here in the Capitol." He told her.
He took out a piece of twine and pulled his dreads back, tying them with the twine. He turned on his heel and looked at the makeup products littering the table. He sniffed a few suspiciously. He saw a conspiracy plot where ever he went these days. "Are you here to give me advice? Because I don't need it. I don't want to win, I don't need to win. Not in order to get accomplished what I want to. What I need too." He said the last part to himself, but she could probably still hear.
Atticus was eighteen. He was tall and strong with wiry muscles. But looking at him, you did not think he would be that strong. And then there were his eyes. The dark, piercing eyes that held you in place when he looked at you. One would think he was a District One career. Kind of dumb, but skilled. No, he was very smart. Scary smart. And he was definitely not a career. At least, he didn't pretend to be. He let people think what they wanted too. He didn't care. They were unimportant.
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Post by shimmer gleam stone on Jul 28, 2011 16:20:35 GMT -5
s h o u ld i g i v e u p o r s h o u l d i just keep chasing pavements even though it | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style,background-image: url('http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g79/Juliart/background_black.jpg');,true][cs=2] L E A D S T O N O W H E R E | | [atrb=width,240] Shimmer straightened up and folded her arms over her chest as Atticus' face hardened. Her gaze grew solemn upon hearing that he didn't care about his looks. She could say a lot about this. That looks could get him sponsors, that everyone loved a prettyboy in the Capitol. But also that he could use this as a strategy. The Boy from One Who Didn't Care For Looks.
Standing her ground, the blonde hardly flinched when he stepped toward her. She twitched her chin upward to help her keep a feel of seniority over her tribute, listening to his questions while thinking of suitable answers for them. His second was the one that brought a taunting smile to her lips. The feeling of his eyes boring in to her only made the smile flicker for a moment.
"Atticus, in my Games I aided in the death of thirteen tributes. That's always been the reason why." Shimmer responded, her gaze travelling down to look at the number on her hand. The lie left her lips without hesitation, and her eyes flicked up to watch him sniff some of the beauty products.
Her gaze grew coal when he spoke again. He was going to be a problem if he wasn't going to want advice. What kind of boy from their District didn't want to win the Games? She had been hell-bent to win after a point when she was in the Games. The point was shortly after the death of her boyfriend, but still. "If you don't want it, I won't give it. But don't go all noble in the arena. It won't do you any good. Neither will be getting personally involved with anyone."
She hesitated, then spoke to him again, stepping over to the products to stand near him, "I'm actually checking in on my tributes. It's the first time I've had one of the older ones. You are one of the older ones, aren't you? Eighteen, right?"
Shimmer was eighteen, nearly nineteen. And yet she was slowly becoming a Capitol plaything. She was still viewed as the tragic lover from the Seventieth Games. What if this boy, Atticus, what if he was the victor? What would be her response? She would be happy for him, of course she would, her whole District would rejoice. But he had just said he didn't want to win. What did he need to accomplish if not victory? | [atrb=width,100]words ,418 words tagged ,atticus notes ,wearing |
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