WantYourSoul
Resident Babyface
(@Nikku sorry it took so long ><)
Canary Trillian has just turned fifteen, and now she fears that she'll never live to see her sixteenth birthday. She was in a career district, sure, but she had recently had a falling out with the mayor's son and the boy had decided to tell all those who were originally going to try volunteering to let her be reaped. With all the power he had, and the tesserae she had applied for (Her family decided that extra flour and grains would be cheaper for them if they just got their children to use tesserae because even if they were chosen, they'd obviously have someone volunteer) didn't help her chances of not being chosen. Her name was drawn and instead of the chorus of "I volunteer"s that usually accompany's this event, only silence met her. The escort waved her up and she had followed shakily. She was much too frightened to even take note of who the male tribute was and she was rushed into the goodbye room as if they were all running a very tight schedule.
Her mother had scolded her for breaking up with the boy so soon before the reapings. She didn't get a hug. Her twin brothers had hugged her and cried fiercely. Their family had decided that she deserved to use a family heirloom, a ring, as a token. Her father had told her she better bring it back to him alive and without a scratch. Her ex had walked in once her family had left, telling her that if she came back alive he might think of getting back together with her. What a prick.
She was miserable on the train ride. Her partner was an obvious career and he towered over her measly 4'9". She spent her time avoiding him and the too-peppy escort. Her mentor was really the only person she talked to, trying to gain information. The ride passed in a blur of being alone and sneaking away from people when they wanted to engage her in conversation.
It was the evening of the chariot ride that she finally stopped to realize that she was being sent basically to her death and she had to try not to cry in front of all these stylists who were grooming her to perfection. Their perfect goddess of the sea. She was wearing a flowing blue garment that seemed to undulate like the sea, on her blonde head was a crown made of sea glass and shells combined into a breathtaking tiara. Sand was sprinkled in her hair, on her face, shoulders, and the places her dress didn't cover. She had elegant blue makeup that made her look more like a water nymph than anything, and a delicate cape that looked like sea foam. They also strung a necklace of fish hooks across her neck, they frightened her until she was told they were dull so bs not to cut her. Before the chariot ride began, Canary was left alone were all the other tributes were slowly trickling in.
And there stood Canary, alone and frightened. She had a feeling that this is how she would be spending the last of her days as a living girl and not some cadaver in a crate.
Canary Trillian has just turned fifteen, and now she fears that she'll never live to see her sixteenth birthday. She was in a career district, sure, but she had recently had a falling out with the mayor's son and the boy had decided to tell all those who were originally going to try volunteering to let her be reaped. With all the power he had, and the tesserae she had applied for (Her family decided that extra flour and grains would be cheaper for them if they just got their children to use tesserae because even if they were chosen, they'd obviously have someone volunteer) didn't help her chances of not being chosen. Her name was drawn and instead of the chorus of "I volunteer"s that usually accompany's this event, only silence met her. The escort waved her up and she had followed shakily. She was much too frightened to even take note of who the male tribute was and she was rushed into the goodbye room as if they were all running a very tight schedule.
Her mother had scolded her for breaking up with the boy so soon before the reapings. She didn't get a hug. Her twin brothers had hugged her and cried fiercely. Their family had decided that she deserved to use a family heirloom, a ring, as a token. Her father had told her she better bring it back to him alive and without a scratch. Her ex had walked in once her family had left, telling her that if she came back alive he might think of getting back together with her. What a prick.
She was miserable on the train ride. Her partner was an obvious career and he towered over her measly 4'9". She spent her time avoiding him and the too-peppy escort. Her mentor was really the only person she talked to, trying to gain information. The ride passed in a blur of being alone and sneaking away from people when they wanted to engage her in conversation.
It was the evening of the chariot ride that she finally stopped to realize that she was being sent basically to her death and she had to try not to cry in front of all these stylists who were grooming her to perfection. Their perfect goddess of the sea. She was wearing a flowing blue garment that seemed to undulate like the sea, on her blonde head was a crown made of sea glass and shells combined into a breathtaking tiara. Sand was sprinkled in her hair, on her face, shoulders, and the places her dress didn't cover. She had elegant blue makeup that made her look more like a water nymph than anything, and a delicate cape that looked like sea foam. They also strung a necklace of fish hooks across her neck, they frightened her until she was told they were dull so bs not to cut her. Before the chariot ride began, Canary was left alone were all the other tributes were slowly trickling in.
And there stood Canary, alone and frightened. She had a feeling that this is how she would be spending the last of her days as a living girl and not some cadaver in a crate.
