~Long Live the Queen~ /Death/Mylee/

These most recent Games have been an exciting Games for District Five. The District has had many ups and down when it comes to their tribute selection. From Patricia, our most recent, strong willed Victor, to Laila, the fiery 13 year old who defied almost all the odds, to Lethe, the quiet, quirky Victor from the 58th Games. Patricia was only given a 2 in her Private Training Session and most of us thought that it would be another year without a Victor. Another year that I can peacefully go about my life’ staying within the confines of my bubble. HAHA NOPE! Patricia had to go and prove us wrong, with her cunning skill and knowledge of swinging a blade she proved us all wrong. Whether it was a trick of the dark underground caverns that killed off most of the Career or something else, it proved too much for those used to comfortable living. They mighty fell, and soon it became the battle of the underdogs, with Pearl from One being able to barely hold on. Then it was her and the girl from 6 in the Finale but everyone knew that Patricia would win, and she proved us all right. Giving us another Victor after so much time.

One would think that I would be excited about, being from District 5 and all. But no I’m not. Since my father owns probably the biggest oil field in Five; as well as the biggest drug ring but we don’t talk about that; we “get” to hold a giant party for the entire district. I hate parties, I honestly really hate socializing in general. I would rather work all day and go hang out with those that actually know me. Ok so let me explain, I may be sending off the vibe that I hate people, which isn’t true. I hate the whole “reciprocating and actually talking” part of it. I would rather sit there and listen to the stories people have to hear. Hear about their day, and the adventures that they have. I’m not one for talking about myself and my perceived troubles. I feel like I burden people when I talk and I would rather not be the burden but rather the shoulder that people can come to.

But now I have to go and socialize. Fuck my life. Normally I wouldn’t mind hosting a small get together of five or so people. But this is the ENTIRE FUCKING DISTRICT. You can sense my anger here when I say this. And I know that Patricia was only trying to save her life, and I really can’t blame her for that. But I still hate her, she made dress in this three-piece black suit with a stone-grey vest and matching tie with sparkles. This color was specifically chosen by my father to “give homage to the Arena and the essence it brought to the year.” Bullshit in my opinion he just wants to keep up with the damn Capitol since grey is apparently the new black. I just want this party to be over already.

I can hear the clamor of strangers exchanging pleasantries downstairs in the front room. Those in their gowns and tuxedos and those who expect me to talk to them. The social expectation bears down upon me. I can feel it breathing down my neck as the tiny hairs stand up. It hides in the shadows under my eyes, in the fidgeting of my hands, the sweat slowly dripping down the small of my back. I slowly make the descent down the stairs; the white hand rail is smooth under my clammy hands. I turn the corner to see a huge crowd of finely dressed faces crowded on the ground level. Fuck me. I look around, flashes of browns, blues, and other colored irises glance by as I say a curt hello. I swim through the elegant satin dresses and smooth cotton blend of the table linens searching for a quiet corner to sulk in. I find it in the next room over, which holds very few people when compared to the main conglomeration in the back. Apparently it is some social taboo to be in the front of the house. Good, more space for me.

I sit there and try to ponder over the roar of the party goers, my look painted with easy look of dismissal. I think I am safe on the couch until I turn my head to the whites of a person’s eye. I jump and give a short little yelp. I catch my breath and turn back to address the person, my voice high with false pleasantries.
“Hello there, sorry I was startled. I presume you are enjoying the party?”


(OOC- Sorry this took me a while college is yeah.)