blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors)
Jun 19, 2014 2:05:44 GMT -5
Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 19, 2014 2:05:44 GMT -5
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the sunlight warms your skin
the sea wants to kiss the golden shore
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As days go by Leon recognizes the kind of silence he used to find back home blanketing the twenty-four tributes. (Except this isn't home, so he shouldn't feel the chill as tributes instinctively retreat from one another, barricading themselves behind walls he usually finds around himself.) It's dark and depressing and Leon hates it (hates the fact that not a day ago he was preparing to trap all twenty-two tributes in a massive net with Nocturne, hates that before it he and Charlie had been easily jabbing each other with pointy elbows and pointier words, and he wants what might be the last few days of his life to be happier than it is.)
So he plots and plans and ends up dropping notes beside tributes, sliding them under their doors, sticking them in tribute's pants (to be fair it was only one tribute, and Darius Radler didn't even seem to notice; Leon ended up sliding one under his door just in case the other boy didn't realize he had a papery buddy down there). On the note was a simple scrawl asking each tribute to join him in the lunch hall at a specific time (seven in the evening, not too early that tributes will be stinking up the room from sparring, not too late that the mentors and escorts will go bat-shit over their precious darlings losing sleep.
To be perfectly honest, Leon could care less about sleep right now).
He ropes Sonja into helping him decorate the lunch hall, and pesters the food-delivery machine-thing to give him a whole large cake (chocolate, plain but delicious). He's pretty sure Owen, Aelia and Charlie wonder where he darted off to after lunch, but they don't question it, at least. Good thing too, because he doesn't really have time for questions.
When seven rolls around and tributes start to filter into the dining hall with a range of expressions, Leon rubs his hands together nervously and glances at Sonja. Guess I owe them an explanation. As soon as enough people are in to consider it a crowd, Leon clears his throat. "Hi," he says, voice ringing clear through the hall. "Well, um. I'm Leon from district four, some of you already knew that. I was thinking that this whole... Games thing was a little. Dark, you know? And I figured we needed some lightening up." He scans the room for Siren, recalling the night of lightening up on the train. A smile pulls at his mouth. "Some of you might think this is a stupid idea, but I think it'll help us all, in the long run."
He strides over to the drinks table and picks up a glass of juice, lifting it to toast his fellow tributes (and it looked like the mentors had decided to drop by, too). "If you have something to perform, or say to everyone... the stage is yours. Happy Hunger Games... and may the odds be ever in your favor."
So he plots and plans and ends up dropping notes beside tributes, sliding them under their doors, sticking them in tribute's pants (to be fair it was only one tribute, and Darius Radler didn't even seem to notice; Leon ended up sliding one under his door just in case the other boy didn't realize he had a papery buddy down there). On the note was a simple scrawl asking each tribute to join him in the lunch hall at a specific time (seven in the evening, not too early that tributes will be stinking up the room from sparring, not too late that the mentors and escorts will go bat-shit over their precious darlings losing sleep.
To be perfectly honest, Leon could care less about sleep right now).
He ropes Sonja into helping him decorate the lunch hall, and pesters the food-delivery machine-thing to give him a whole large cake (chocolate, plain but delicious). He's pretty sure Owen, Aelia and Charlie wonder where he darted off to after lunch, but they don't question it, at least. Good thing too, because he doesn't really have time for questions.
When seven rolls around and tributes start to filter into the dining hall with a range of expressions, Leon rubs his hands together nervously and glances at Sonja. Guess I owe them an explanation. As soon as enough people are in to consider it a crowd, Leon clears his throat. "Hi," he says, voice ringing clear through the hall. "Well, um. I'm Leon from district four, some of you already knew that. I was thinking that this whole... Games thing was a little. Dark, you know? And I figured we needed some lightening up." He scans the room for Siren, recalling the night of lightening up on the train. A smile pulls at his mouth. "Some of you might think this is a stupid idea, but I think it'll help us all, in the long run."
He strides over to the drinks table and picks up a glass of juice, lifting it to toast his fellow tributes (and it looked like the mentors had decided to drop by, too). "If you have something to perform, or say to everyone... the stage is yours. Happy Hunger Games... and may the odds be ever in your favor."
the sunlight warms your skin
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Blaise Napollyon Krigel
your heart is on my sleeve
Any posting order, you may jump in whenever as long as you don't double-post. Fire away, tribs. Fire away.