Letters To Tributes - Sponsor!Charade?

Dearest Kiara, As I write this, I am sequestered myself in my study. I don't want any of the others to read over my shoulder, least of all your cousin. Oh. Where are my manners? Kae came home quite suddenly the first day of the games, bursting in the front door and giving us all quite a shock. I hadn't expected him to ever show his face again in the off chance that he still lived. But... he has proven that despite his many flaws, he is capable of a twisted sort of love. Hard to understand;but love nonetheless. I am...grateful. for everything the Dempseys have held together through; though I may not always reciprocate in a clearly auditory fashion. Also though, I can't say I'm particularly happy with all of your actions thus far in the arena. Hunting down weaker lonely tributes? Getting covered in blood and relishing the moment that the light fades from your victims eyes, prancing around like a besotted deer. What are you? A Moreno? Actually, scratch that thought. I don't recall A Moreno doing anything other than crying and nearly wetting themselves. You are far ahead of them, which is only to be expected, coming from a household as illustrious as ours.

Speaking of which, everyone misses you terribly. Each in their own way, perhaps, but they miss you all the same. Turmoil is writ on every face, partnered with confusion and a complete lack of understanding. I myself remain at a loss for who you chose to save, when you have slain so many in such a short span of time. That being said, I take issue with the company you have chosen to keep. The Myler boy is a non-entity in my mind, a faceless drone that is slaving away to live up to the ideals force-fed into his brain by Capitol propaganda. The young girl from eight is inexplicable to me. I wonder why you did not choose to protect her brother as well. Which brings me to my real objection, that being of Wednasdae Drummond. Now what do you see in a boy like that? Its clear from the cameras that you have an interest in him. But he is cold. Calculating. Ruthless. I wasn't aware that the lower districts could produce such a ferocity. Is he really romance material? But I digress. I'm sure I'd take issue with whoever you'd choose to date. Forgive your father his eccentricities, I just have a hard time watching my daughter look at someone like that.

I write this letter with the intention of you never having to read it. I have come to an inescapable conclusion of reality. There is a good chance I will never see you again. If that's the case, morbid though it may be, I will place this letter on top of your grave. Should you return, into the fireplace it shall be cast. Kiara, when you are the head of a large family, it is easy to worry that one of more of your children is not getting the amount of nurturing attention that they require to properly function. I...Ignore what I've just crossed out dear. To be honest, I'm not sure where I was going with that anecdote. Just know that whenever I start being overly verbose with just a hint of pontification, I am trying to let you know that I love you. Sometimes, its hard being the father of so many children. Children. Is it odd that I still think of you as such? I think not. It is more likely that I simply remember when I could balance you and Moira on my knees. That I can still see you as the wide-eyed little girl that I had to tuck in at night after a snack and a story. I've become older without realizing it, and now I'm just another father that desperately wishes his daughters never had to grow up. But grow up you have. Into a finely strong willed young woman that is too old for me to hide away from the world any longer. One who chooses for herself.

I'm proud of you child. Never forget that.

Please.

Come back to us.

Come back to me.

Your Loving father,

Ambrose Dempsey

Oct 17, 2012 19:01:02 GMT -5 L△LIA said:

Wait wait wait. HOLD UP.

I will so sponsor $200 for a letter to Aesop from Sawyer.

I'm not really sure how to start this off, so hey there Aesop! Its nor every day I write to a fella that's dead. Of course, its not every day that I'm dead either. Even though I've been so for quite some time. I never really got a chance to talk to you in the arena, but you always struck me as the kind of kid that sat in the back of the class thinking deep philosophical thoughts like how life is just a dream and how we're all just floating around in someones head or ghost writing for an unseen muse or something ridiculously deep like that. Anyway, I guess what the point of this letter is is to apologize for killing your girl and carving you up. Course, you did a pretty good job of carving me up too. Whatever. Since shuffling past the mortal coil, I've had a lot of time to think and I guess I'd have to say I wouldn't change a thing. Hurling myself into my beloved flames after killing Sundra was in fact, pre-meditated. I mean, I wasn't about to let you beat Mace to death with my leg or something like that. Let me refresh your memory.

I can never tell how long ago events happened anymore, though I've tried to count the passage of the time by the number of waist sizes that Mace has gone up. What is he on now anyway, 36? 38? Charas tells me not to poke fun; that he carries himself in a more dignified way than some would give him credit for. I guess she's right. But whenever she brings that up, I have to ask myself if I'd have done any different than him. If any of us would have. Would we be sitting around growing older, wider, and sadder, letting the world pass us by until the cows come home? I'm leaning towards a yes. Remember our final moments? Of course you do, they were something else. Me with the bleeding and the severed arm, you and your girl with the knives sticking out all up and down you, Mace with the staring at all of us like we were crazy. Maybe you were. Maybe I was. Is it crazy to try to hold on to the things that define you as your final seconds tick away? If so I guess we're all insane.

In closing Aesop, I'd like to extend the hand of friendship in the hopes that you will shake it with your own and not one that you found somewhere and bury Berkeley's hatchet, letting bygones be bygones. If you get this letter, I just hope you agree that it could've gone in any one of a hundred different ways. Let's get together sometime and haunt Mace's fridge or something. He can't make us leave, his continued existence came at the price of ours. One last thing. Did Sundra ever tell you about the time I didn't kill her? Cause this one day, I tried to shake her hand and then let her go. Then again, on that day she wasn't trying to kill me so... Alright! Moving on! Moving on. She seemed like a nice girl. Bet she still is too. Come visit the big district three victor village in the sky one of these eternities. I'll stuff some mushrooms and put the kettle on.

Hoping to hear from you soon,

-
Sawyer Monaghan