andorra konstantine ; lalia/dreamer ; white elephant

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[attr="class","jorggradient1"]The Library is your favorite place to go isn’t it? The pages of pages of knowledge of what Panem is and what it could possibly be. All of these words taking you to places that was and will become, things and ideas that you will never see but help to build. They invigorate your mind, your spirit and your soul doesn’t it? The silence of it all helps allow you to fully immerse yourself into these new found and often returned to places. The joy and escape of it all helps you to cope with your family, your mother’s forcing of her old school traditions of marriage on you and everything else that is going on in your life. But, unfortunately the Library is anything but silence when you open the old wooden doors. It’s the Annual White Elephant Event for the District Ratmas celebration and you, for some unknown awful reason, decided to participate in this year.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"]The halls and shelves are decorated with cut out snowflakes and the floor is covered in powdered snow, like your District doesn’t already have it right outside the door. There are twinkle lights hanging from the chandeliers and the lights that usually low and warm were now loud and bright, illuminating everything in a harsh, unflattering way. A grand tree stands tall in the middle of the middle of the Library with tacky ornaments that glistened in a way that almost blinded the eye. It is an invasion of your ivory tower. You really don’t want to be here, do you? You apparently can’t see anything in a positive light. You can’t even enjoy the pile of presents that lie under the tree.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"]All of this distracts you. It’s an invasion of your sanctuary, your oasis has been tainted by the noise and gaudiness of it all. The once clear waters of the fresh pages now run murky the taint of other’s annotations. But you go through the motions of enjoying the water. It is as if you have to deal with the King’s abrasive and lewd friends, because you are only the princess. You fake a smile as you put down your wrapped gift with the pile of the others. Your simply decorated ornate box sits gently inside the wrapper, waiting for the recipient to use it to their whim. It used to hold your own secrets and passions, until you felt like they were nothing more than a hindrance upon your mind. You make small talk as you hold the punch, forcibly poisoning the asylum of soul. When the laughter that scratches your ears silence for the Master of the Library you find temporary release in the pleasure of only a singular voice speaking, and not the incessant chatter that garishly scores your ear.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"]He announces that it is time to open presents, and everyone clamorously grabs a seat by the tree. They all want to see what everyone else has presented to the pile of tributes to this yearly monstrosity so the circle forms outside of the tree, away from any obstructions of sight. One by one they each grab at the obnoxiously affected paper, the glossy shine almost blinding on each one. A young man that you have seen from time to time has picked up your gift, and sees the endless possibilities that you hoped they would and lauded you on the design. You reply in false modesty, seeing as how you had immense help from your father in making it. Soon in comes around to you to choose from the ostentatious presents. You grab the simplest paper you can find, and unwrap in fraudulent regard.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"]When the paper is shed the tape disregarded, you open the flaps of the box to see a knitted creature of sorts. A certain look of curiosity flashes across your face as you pick up creation from its head. You place your hands softly under the top to see a hat that is in the appearance of a shark. It is, actually, quite adorable. Your smile slowly dances onto your face as you find a certain childish, yet innocent humor in it. It looks like it was made to fit onto a cat, or some other sort of small animal, which unfortunately you do not possess. The appeal is not lost on you and you actually quite enjoy the playfulness of it all. It takes you back to when you looked at the world though wondrous and adventurous eyes. A place that you considerably miss.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"]You can tell the creator was the little Konstatine girl, as a flash of pride illuminates her face. After the final gifts are chosen and the trades have commenced, you walk up to the young girl and kneel onto her level.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"] “I absolutely love what you made. I find it to be extraordinary fascinating and hilarious.” You say as you turn the hat around to face her.

[attr="class","jorggradient1"] “Shall we find us a cat to put in on?” laughing as the simply childish, yet innocent idea plays in your head.