aylin bellona | district four | fin

"Daddy, I don't understand why you won't just let me go!" The tiny blonde stomped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant kind of way, trying her hardest to show her distaste with her father's decision. "I'm not letting you go because you like to lie about where you're really going." She scoffed. "When are you going to let go of that? It happened almost a year ago!" Her father matched her expression of frustration with such perfection it was almost scary. Everything about his face had been passed down to his daughter from the blonde hair, to the sea-green eyes, to the freckled skin. In fact, nearly everything was passed down other than the stubble on his cheeks.

"Look, Aylin. I'm not doing this to make you hate me, and I'm not doing it because I hate you. I'm doing it because it's for your own good." She stepped forward, trying to appear not threatened by the man, but one of the only things she hadn't inherited from him was his tall height and broad shoulders. "I'm. Not. Lying. I promise, I'm just going to Harper's house to spend the night! Why won't you believe me?" He rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Fine, if you are honestly just going to your friend's house, I'll let you go." All the tension in the room disappeared, her scowl instantly replaced by a cheerful smile forged from thin, pointed lips. "Thank you, Daddy! Thank you so, so, so much!"

Then she was out of the door and on her way.

Aylin Bellona is a trained individual, her profession being in manipulation. Her tongue is laced in poison, her heart in ice, and she is fiercely determined to do what it takes to get her way. An easy way to describe her after a first impression would simply be to call her a bitch, and she is happy about it. She likes the idea that people feel threatened by her, feel the need to pull her down in order to feel superior to her. It reminds her of who is really in charge at the end of the day.

She is as fake as the smile she wears, and as deadly as the weapons in her hands, the shiny metal gleaming at the slightest movement. Her parents placed her in a training program when she was barely old enough to hold a wooden blade without toppling over on her backside. She learned the ways of a career, perfected the skills required to truly be considered a weapon, and used them to her advantage. Her claws came out from under the shiny pink polish of her fingernails and anyone that dared to stand in her way got cut.

Aylin isn't afraid of taking advantage of a person's weakness. Actually, she thrives on figuring them out. Most boys are easy, all she has to do is pull the hem of her skirt up a little higher and the collar of her shirt a little lower, maybe flip her hair and hold their hands, then they are a victim of her poison, a new pawn in a game where she is the only winner, where she is the queen. Girls, however, were more difficult, and they actually require effort. She pretends to be a friend, stands up for them, talks them up until a little secret slips from the confines of heir mind, then she ruins them. Anyone could be a threat, and she isn't taking the chance of letting someone take her throne.

After about ten minutes of walking, she pulled her hair down and smiled. How silly of her father- precious Daddy- to fall for her tricks so easily. It usually only took a few tears, a small beg, then he was backing down and giving her exactly what she wanted. A small prick of guilt scraped inside her heart, but she ignored it. He didn't understand anymore. He was an adult with grown-up issues to deal with, and he'd forgotten what it was like to be Aylin's age. She guessed he wouldn't find out, and if he did, she'd give him some sob story and shed a few tears to get him to come around.

He never seemed to truly forget her lies, but he seemed to let her continue to do it anyway. She was surprised that the one time he'd caught her had been the one time of all of them she had wished he hadn't, mainly because she was drunk and about to show a boy exactly who Aylin Bellona was.

She could hear the voices before she saw who they belonged to, though she didn't need to in order to know she would find Harper and Percy waiting for her around the next corner. "Wow! He actually fell for it again?" the dark haired girl asked, and an impressed smile lit up her lips. "Of course he did, he's an idiot. Now, let's go. I'm ready to have some fun."

Aylin has a confidence unheard of. She is convinced, even though past tributes have all suffered the same cruel fate, her's would be different if she were ever reaped. She already fantasizes about what life as a victor would be like, wonders what the other districts would look like on her victory tour, what the dress specifically designed for her would look like once she arrived in the Capitol and was congratulated by the entire country. She wondered who she'd allow to hold her in the night, who she would share the crown's benefits with and who she would shame with them. She has it all figured out, a perfectly painted image in her head, and she expects it to be just like that if the words "Aylin Bellona" ever ring throughout the Square on reaping day.

The three walked along with complete excitement rattling their cores. "Who all do you think will show up?" Percy asked, a bit of uncertainty in his voice. She rolled her eyes. "Anyone that matters, maybe even a few that don't." Harper laughed. "I just hope we get there soon, or these heels were so not worth it." As if the wind had heard her words and pulled the place to them, a spark of light on the beach caught Aylin's eye. The bonfire. All the best beach parties had them.

A crowd of about fifty had surfaced, each holding a drink, some already plastered and making a fool of themselves. A few couples swayed to music, but most of the crowd was talking. She took in a deep breath and looked at her friends.

"Show time."