Mess up, dress down (Adessia/Bolts)
Oct 12, 2016 17:53:56 GMT -5
Post by Chevi on Oct 12, 2016 17:53:56 GMT -5
BOLTS SPARK
DISTRICT THREE
Stupid Capitol doors could not even be slammed.
Bolts groaned in frustration as the door slid silently closed behind him; the lack of a loud noise to channel his anger only added insult to injury. On the other side of the door his assigned stylist was probably making a face, or even swearing if stylists were allowed to swear. Or knew how to. Bolts doubted both.
While training was annoying, it was also directly useful to their survival. Styling, on the other hand... The rational part of Bolts' brain understood the need for popularity, but it still made his skin crawl. Dying for entertainment... that was to be expected. Dressing up to do so? They could go to hell.
Bolts wandered aimlessly away from their room and down the hallways of the Training Center. He knew himself enough to know that eventually he would return, apologize, and put up with whatever awful concept they had in mind to make him presentable. He was not a rebel at heart, whatever he liked to tell himself in the past few days. He was just here to survive. Or try, anyway.
He glanced up at the cameras lining the hallways. He was sure someone was already enjyoing the show...
Bolts groaned in frustration as the door slid silently closed behind him; the lack of a loud noise to channel his anger only added insult to injury. On the other side of the door his assigned stylist was probably making a face, or even swearing if stylists were allowed to swear. Or knew how to. Bolts doubted both.
While training was annoying, it was also directly useful to their survival. Styling, on the other hand... The rational part of Bolts' brain understood the need for popularity, but it still made his skin crawl. Dying for entertainment... that was to be expected. Dressing up to do so? They could go to hell.
Bolts wandered aimlessly away from their room and down the hallways of the Training Center. He knew himself enough to know that eventually he would return, apologize, and put up with whatever awful concept they had in mind to make him presentable. He was not a rebel at heart, whatever he liked to tell himself in the past few days. He was just here to survive. Or try, anyway.
He glanced up at the cameras lining the hallways. He was sure someone was already enjyoing the show...
