Let's Tessellate {Charade}

Another year, and yet another reaping. And indeed, another post games gauntlet to survive. This reaping had been most interesting for the district, there was a volunteer tribute from one of the poorer families in the district and not only that, but a family directly connected to the string of murders that had baffled the authorities several months ago. Connected by blood in fact. Kiara was cousin to the now deceased murderer, which as one could imagine, caused quite the tizzy around the school. Peridot Myler had been reaped as well, but with a Dempsey headed into the arena, the male tribute was largely forgotten. Josiah had never interacted with either of them, only recalling seeing them about the hallways, and feeling slightly jealous about how well Kiara was able to consistently pull off wearing dark colors. Of course, given her family's social standing it was possible that those were the only clothes she could afford.


He had deigned to wear dark clothes this morning himself, attempting to look fashionable without emulating the Dempsey, as it appeared some of his classmates were wanting to do. A hat, a scarf, and a pair of fingerless gloves for his ensemble. With just a few spritzes of a cologne that smelled of begonias on his scarf. Supposedly it was one of the latest fashions in the Capitol id the saleswoman was to be believed. Though as soon as the tributes were interviewed, he'd be re-drawing his sketches and designs for several submissions. It was rare that people were called to the Capitol for work, but Josiah knew that if he kept at it, perhaps one day a talent scout would see his work and give him a recomendation. Then it'd be off to the Capitol to climb the rest of the social ladder and spend a few years as a tribute stylist, before eventually joining his hero on stage.

Ah to share the stage with Caesar Flickerman. That was his ultimate goal, to be as styling as the man himself while interviewing the best celebrities the country had to offer. Perhaps he too would change his hair color to match his suit every other day. That would be enough to earn some well deserved respect would it not? Maybe he'd host the games as his contemporaries children were sent off to the Arena. Take that why don't you?

Of course, first he would have to make it through the rest of the school day. Walking through the cafeteria could be potentially dangerous, especially at a time like this. The true careers were sp up in arms about the whole business it was a wonder they didn't bleed testosterone. As it always was, the Moreno table was fit to bursting with people; really, it couldn't be called a table with all dozens of chairs surrounding several tables. It was more like its own banquet hall. Josiah's mother had often pressured him to befriend the large family, maybe even snag a Moreno girl on his arm, but he had never even tried to go near them. They did not seem the sort that wanted to discuss anything other than how many ways they knew how to kill people.

Besides, he had tried to tell his parents, it didn't matter if he was well to do, he just didn't fit in with them. Nor did he fit in with the neanderthals that spent less time debating that violence was an art and more time repeatedly cracking each other across the face in the gyms. Nor could he venture to join one of the sports teams that had come into existence ever since the Olympics had become a staple for the more athletic careers. In such company, a tendency to bruise easily and a lack of stylized weaponry was the least of his concerns. Still, it was best to avoid the large families and their friends altogether. Whether Moreno or Lightwood, Shore or Rex, Josiah Rayner was a small fish in a very small pond.

Examining his tray, he was pleased to find a small vinaigrette beside his chicken caesar salad, that is, before said dressing, salad and tray all went up into the air as his scarf was snagged on something and he fell backward to land on his rear. Peals of laughter reached his ears, and judging by the ketchup outlined handprint on the edge of his scarf, it was undeniable that he had someone to thank for his current misfortune, not that anyone around him would admit to pulling such a prank.

Turning a shade darker around the cheeks and his tips of his ears, Josiah collected his salad bowl, which was thankfully still sealed; unfortunately the dressing bottle was beyond recovery, as was the fork. And the drink. Taking what was left to him in one hand, he got unsteadily to his feet and slunk with his head down towards a table near the back, a table that normally did not have anyone seated at it. This time however, there was a brunette girl that was oft the target of schoolyard bullying. Young adults could be so cruel, especially concerning the tin man. What was her real name? He wasn't sure. This girl had been quite noticeable until recently, for the large back brace she wore for some condition or other. That didn't stop the torture of others, as Josiah had found out some years prior.

He had done terrible in a fight session a few years back, making him one of the laughingstocks of the school, not to mention he routinely failed at gym activities, running. climbing... all such things were anathema to him.Glancing at the sorry state of her sandwich, he wondered if any particular person was to blame for the look on her face. It was either that, or the soggy chicken between the bread. He offered a hand to shake as he pulled up a seat next to his fellow societal outcast."Didn't think anyone else would bother to sit this far back. I'm Josiah."