oliver
count the seconds
GOVERNMENT OF PANEM
DISTRICT 10 IDENTIFICATION PASS
DATE OF BIRTH
04/10
GENDER
Male
MIGRATED FROM
DISTRICT 10
COUNTRY
panem
ASSIGNED OCCUPATION
tribute
PANEM CITIZEN NUMBER (PCN)
ID # (p6h8f1.di5210)
STRAY FLORES
STATUS
HEALTH
STAMINA
HUNGER
SANITY
thoughts:
This is so fucked up.
This is so fucked up.
outfit:
A training outfit.
A training outfit.
location:
City Circle, Panem Capitol.
City Circle, Panem Capitol.
Ending the dinner was a sweet gesture but extremely out of place. Not that it went unappreciated, but Stray couldn’t forget about the fact that all but 1 of their death dates were coming up quick. Stray checked out mentally soon after his own little performance that didn’t go as well as he’d hoped, especially after the sarcasm flew over some heads. But, he felt reassured that the rest of them were probably thinking the same thing. Or at least Clay had been. It made him regret jumping on the bandwagon. They were all going to die for entertainment’s sake anyway, so what was the issue with being nice? In the same vein, why bother?
Vixen proved to be even less helpful than he initially thought she would be with Novia even worse. Obviously, they didn’t have the same goals in mind. She told him that he was still neutral enough that his standing with the other tributes was manageable, but he’d need to make a bigger impression. Eventually, she gave. It wasn’t her in the arena after all. However, she begged Stray to at least try to be favorable to potential sponsors and appear like he had the potential to win. He could, easily, but the issue was that he didn’t want to. They settled on the idea of second place with minimal killing. Stray wasn’t really convinced, and Vixen stuck to her idea that everything would change once he truly came face to face with death. Frustrated, Stray stripped down to his underwear and tried to suffocate himself with his pillow.
It was too bad that, even with the rare chance of having his belly full and a soft bed, Stray could hardly sleep. The good life treatment was so foreign, and he couldn’t get the faces of everyone at dinner out of his head. That got him thinking about home. District 7. He might have saved his father, but now he couldn’t save his brothers if it were ever one of their names called. Stray wished that he didn’t have to die only once.
Before he knew it, the sun was rising, and he’d only drifted in and out of consciousness. Fear and anxiety gave him the energy he needed to complete the day, but steam and natural caffeine wasn’t going to keep him going forever. Stray’s thoughts shifted to the Gamemaker and how he’d mentioned the Training Center. But, before he got up he had to ask himself one thing. What kind of sick fuck did Pluto Eversong have to be to be a part of this? Stray found himself thankful. In a couple days, he’d never have to watch a bunch of kids kill each other again.
After silently encouraging himself to get out of bed, Stray raided the closet for some clothes to change into after a shower. He didn’t think twice about the face that he had one option that wasn’t there just hours ago. There had already been so many unexplainable things he’d witnessed in the Capitol thus far that some questions weren’t worth asking.
The scalding water helped ease the tension in his body. Stray stood in the shower, trying to milk it for all that it was worth in terms of hot water. 20 minutes later and there was still no cold water was in sight. His fingers were pruning, however, so he got out and dried off. Vixen bugged him, telling him that it would be better if he didn't dawdle. He did the exact opposite, not looking forward to any part of the day. To him, the dinner served as a telling sign of how the rest of the week would go.
A little after 8:00 Stray arrived at the training facility after a peeved Vixen and a reclusive Novia. He didn’t think himself as that unbearable, but evidently he was good at pissing off the people who wanted the best for him.
In person, the Training Center wasn’t was Stray assumed it would be like. It was just as garish in person as it was on the screen, and he found himself standing idly for a few moments to take in the technologically advanced, avant-garde gymnasium. Truth be told, he didn’t really know where to start. Vixen gave him some ideas, but more than ever he felt homesick. Stray missed the field and barns.
Raw power, skill with sharp objects, and basic survival knowledge supported Stray. He wasn’t the best, but he definitely wouldn’t be struggling as much as Ellie, District 1’s tribute. Feeling bad for her, Stray shuffled over to the simulation room and squatted down next to her. For several painful seconds, he watched her make her attempt to build a fire. If his time in the Capitol had taught him one thing, it was that he was incredible at wasting precious time.
“I hope that, for your sake, you can get your hands on a lighter during the Games.” He offered Ellie an awkward smile. Ellie seemed nice at the dinner and rather than feeling some sort of unfairness and anger towards her, she filled him with curiosity. What was it like to be her? To be from District 1?
-
Vixen proved to be even less helpful than he initially thought she would be with Novia even worse. Obviously, they didn’t have the same goals in mind. She told him that he was still neutral enough that his standing with the other tributes was manageable, but he’d need to make a bigger impression. Eventually, she gave. It wasn’t her in the arena after all. However, she begged Stray to at least try to be favorable to potential sponsors and appear like he had the potential to win. He could, easily, but the issue was that he didn’t want to. They settled on the idea of second place with minimal killing. Stray wasn’t really convinced, and Vixen stuck to her idea that everything would change once he truly came face to face with death. Frustrated, Stray stripped down to his underwear and tried to suffocate himself with his pillow.
It was too bad that, even with the rare chance of having his belly full and a soft bed, Stray could hardly sleep. The good life treatment was so foreign, and he couldn’t get the faces of everyone at dinner out of his head. That got him thinking about home. District 7. He might have saved his father, but now he couldn’t save his brothers if it were ever one of their names called. Stray wished that he didn’t have to die only once.
Before he knew it, the sun was rising, and he’d only drifted in and out of consciousness. Fear and anxiety gave him the energy he needed to complete the day, but steam and natural caffeine wasn’t going to keep him going forever. Stray’s thoughts shifted to the Gamemaker and how he’d mentioned the Training Center. But, before he got up he had to ask himself one thing. What kind of sick fuck did Pluto Eversong have to be to be a part of this? Stray found himself thankful. In a couple days, he’d never have to watch a bunch of kids kill each other again.
After silently encouraging himself to get out of bed, Stray raided the closet for some clothes to change into after a shower. He didn’t think twice about the face that he had one option that wasn’t there just hours ago. There had already been so many unexplainable things he’d witnessed in the Capitol thus far that some questions weren’t worth asking.
The scalding water helped ease the tension in his body. Stray stood in the shower, trying to milk it for all that it was worth in terms of hot water. 20 minutes later and there was still no cold water was in sight. His fingers were pruning, however, so he got out and dried off. Vixen bugged him, telling him that it would be better if he didn't dawdle. He did the exact opposite, not looking forward to any part of the day. To him, the dinner served as a telling sign of how the rest of the week would go.
-
A little after 8:00 Stray arrived at the training facility after a peeved Vixen and a reclusive Novia. He didn’t think himself as that unbearable, but evidently he was good at pissing off the people who wanted the best for him.
In person, the Training Center wasn’t was Stray assumed it would be like. It was just as garish in person as it was on the screen, and he found himself standing idly for a few moments to take in the technologically advanced, avant-garde gymnasium. Truth be told, he didn’t really know where to start. Vixen gave him some ideas, but more than ever he felt homesick. Stray missed the field and barns.
Raw power, skill with sharp objects, and basic survival knowledge supported Stray. He wasn’t the best, but he definitely wouldn’t be struggling as much as Ellie, District 1’s tribute. Feeling bad for her, Stray shuffled over to the simulation room and squatted down next to her. For several painful seconds, he watched her make her attempt to build a fire. If his time in the Capitol had taught him one thing, it was that he was incredible at wasting precious time.
“I hope that, for your sake, you can get your hands on a lighter during the Games.” He offered Ellie an awkward smile. Ellie seemed nice at the dinner and rather than feeling some sort of unfairness and anger towards her, she filled him with curiosity. What was it like to be her? To be from District 1?
coded by hanthesunbeam