Glamour Kinkade // [Gamemaker]

A man truly inspired by the Capitol and its whimsical fashions, Glamour changes his appearance with the season. There is no fashion trend he won't try, no color or style that is too bold. Fashion is simply a way of life. It has been a guiding principle for him since he was an infant, and there is no critic who will convince him to tone down his outlandish outfits.

Part of being in the mainstream of Capitol couture has meant some extreme body enhancements as well. Glamour has undergone these grudgingly, and oftentimes uses temporary fixes instead of subjecting himself to more surgery. It's one of the reasons he is not as flawless as many of his counterparts. Glamour simply isn't willing to bear the pain.

You can see it in the wideness of his nose from the tip to his forehead, in the speckled pockmarks on his cheeks from a childhood illness. He's had two skin graft surgeries to cover these, and while they are much improved, he will bear the scars for life. In other areas he'd had more success. His eyes have been died a deep jade, rather than their natural washy teal, and his lips defined by botox. He had his forward-facing ears clipped back, and liposuction done just a year ago, as his body started to sag beyond what he could control in the gym.

Glamour is meticulous about his diet and exercise regime, preferring to tackle his age in a more traditional manner. This technique hasn't always worked out well for him. Unlike most Capitolites, you can usually find welts, bruises, and occasionally a fractured bone in Glamour's body. He thinks of these as war wounds, as a way to connect to his previous tributes, even though they are self inflicted. Even though they could never kill him.

[Adam Lambert]

Glamour is the school boy chasing skirts, the puppy wagging its tail at passing cars. His enthusiasm for life is as infectious as it is annoying. The perpetual Peter Pan, Glamour would rather his days be comprised entirely of recess than any work, and he's found just the way to make that a reality with Gamemaking. All work and no play makes Glamour a dull boy, after all.

Glamour is one of those rare, and unfortunate, specimens of humanity whose personality formed at a young age and never really matured. A glitter-encrusted sword at the age of eight was just as good of a present as it is at twenty-eight. In fact he has one, with a blade of steel, hanging in his office in the Capitol. He intends to use it to knight his victor, but that's a story for the future.

Glamour thrives on concrete displays of affection. Gifts, especially extravagant ones, go a long way to curry his favor. And like a small child, if he doesn't have the newest, hottest "it" thing, he'll find a way to work it into every conversation, use the absence of it against those who care of him. Although, to be honest, hardly anyone in the Capitol is actually a friend. Rather they are other, now lower, social climbers, looking to piggyback on his success.

And Glamour remembers what it was like before. For some, that would make them more sympathetic, more willing to reach out and elevate those on the same path. Not Glamour. He sees every individual in the queue behind him as a threat to his position, and he'd much rather drive that crystal sword through their hearts.

Now those above him, those are people Glamour respects. And fears. He is, at his core, a coward, which actually makes him an excellent Gamemaker. He knows just exactly how far he can push his tributes, empathizes with the terror he inflicts on them. This is a connection his co-Gamemaker does not share, and not one he openly talks about. Rather he phrases his empathy in terms of strategy, history, and what might possibly work, even though he knows the Cerberus mutt idea woke him in the middle of the night sweating and screaming.

A coward with vision. Glamour is good at looking at the sum of parts, the overall atmosphere of an arena, the importance of bright white uniforms, quickly stained but ever symbolic. While the minor details - like how the traps will be set, how the mutts introduced - do not hold his attention, he finds the shininess of gamemaking in the ability to create a world in the arena. It is a migraine-inducing task some days, but thus far it is held his child-like whimsy.

Picture for a moment a poor, seedy underbelly of the Capitol. Almost laughable, yes? But even with all the influx of riches, food and clothes, there are some in the Capitol who are not as wealthy as what the cameras would have you believe. These are the sewer maintenance workers, the garbage collectors, the oddity shop owners. Glamour's parents had the dubious distinction of covering many of these bases. His father worked as a "Sanitation Repair Manager" down in the sewers at night, while his mother owned a little store which sold small, deformed figurines of past tributes that mostly no one else found worthwhile.

Like all children in the Capitol, Glamour attended school, and even from the onset he was aware that his parents didn't quite measure up. For one thing, they didn't have a car. For another, on show and tell day, when the other students brought scarves of silk and apples of gold, he brought one of his mothers freaky figurines and turned scarlet with embarrassment.

He found himself the coward and bullied throughout school, and while he never actually got beaten up (after all such violence is reserved for the Districts and the Games), the emotional and mental scarring runs deep. Most Capitolites who attending school with Glamour remember his not at all, or perhaps as the greasy-haired boy with the beginning of a hunchback.

Like most outcasts in the Capitol, Glamour filled his lonely hours watching the Games. He came to idolize the Gamemakers, people who were glamorous and powerful, unlike his parents. He papered his walls with Games paraphernalia, talked incessantly about his favorite tributes. But the truth was that he idolized the Gamemakers themselves the most, harbored a love for them that developed into determination and obsession.

As soon as he could he began interning in the Gamemaking building, first in the style department. It turned out that Glamour had an eye for flair, and moved his way steadily up to coordinating the far flung stylists. But it wasn't enough. There was no way for him to rise above outfits, even if they were outrageously memorable.

And then Anarcha found him. Anarcha, for whom he had erected a temple in his apartment. Anarcha, for whom he would have gladly marched into the arena. Anarcha, who he didn't actually understand at all, and who tore his world asunder.

The 62nd became so much more than learning to draft a game in the public arena. With Anarcha, the game is never contained to tributes and blades. There is always another piece in play, another twist to grapple with, another reveal to make him sweat. And it's all he's ever wanted.

Wheeee Lulu said it was okay!