titanium [open]

John-Paul sat on the edge of a bench in the City Circle. It was this type of scenery that he most enjoyed about the Capitol, and this type of placement he enjoyed being in period. He had just gotten coffee and a doughnut from a nearby breakfast shop, and now had his hands closed around the cup for warmth. The doughnut was in a bag at his side, still warm from the shop's heating. For a moment, he thought quietly. The Games are going to happen again soon. The thought made him smile in a bittersweet manner. It would mean entertainment for however long it would last, but it would also mean the death of twenty-three perfect strangers. John-Paul shrugged this thought aside, reminding himself that if the Districts weren't kept in check, they would rebel against the Capitol once more, and all hell would break loose. Lightly, John-Paul chewed his bottom lip, which caused him a slight amount of pain due to his elongated canine teeth. He had only very recently acquired this alteration, and was still getting used to the fact that if he bit down too hard he'd cut his lip.

He rubbed his upper arm, where his first tattoo was; the seal of Panem and it's motto, Panem et Circenses, on a banner under it in all black ink. All of his tattoos were black. He preferred not to look completely unnatural, so he could maintain his natural appeal and also stay with the Capitol's fashion. In John-Paul's mind, the social hierarchy of the Capitol was very confusing. The more altered you were, the more wealthy people assumed you were. The less altered, the poorer people assumed. No one in the Capitol was necessarily "poor," however. There were just some people who had it a little bit easier. The Capitol citizens lived a cushy, plush life, and they rarely, if ever, got to peek into District life. One of John-Paul's biggest desires was to visit District Ten. He always had their bread and he'd always been fascinated as to how it was made. Reaching into the bag at his side, John-Paul split open his glazed doughnut and inhaled a light blueberry scent. He took a bite off of the end of one of the halves and sipped his coffee, which was still warm. It is a good life I live... John-Paul thought, observing the bustling citizens around him.