back at it again | mayor one-shots [78th]

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frankel
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call me jaded

back at it again | mayor one-shots [78th] Feb 24, 2018 7:10:07 GMT -5

Post by frankel on Feb 24, 2018 7:10:07 GMT -5

P I E R R E

Back at it again. The same scripted process and chair to sit on. It is a sigh of relief when the names are pulled from that glass bowl, no blood of his own but the relative of a newly past tribute always adds tension to the air. It is all a bit close to him this time, a twelve-year-old to carry the District’s hope, just as his daughter Lily did. Another tribute relative to live up to the name of their predecessor, all he can do is wish them luck as they step onto the train.

Optimism of the District taken away, now Pierre must tame the wildfire back home. Two games of dying celebrations, all is back to normal since Shelby’s glory. If only there was a way to send morale as high as that victor ship did. There are only so many schools he can open and hospitals he can fix, especially with the quickly emptying pot of gold that sits on his mayoral desk. Three years at the helm, he can list his success, but the list of failures is just as long.

A family forgotten in the shadows. He could never have imagined the personal effects this role has had on him. Just months after his final daughter’s death and he allowed the puppet strings of the Capitol to be attached to him. So blind to the reality of it all, during his campaigns. Distracted by the glory of his debates, is he regretting it? On so many occasions he has almost hung up the coat but there is so much to lose now. He can’t let the unnecessary pressure on his family to go to waste. He still has a chance to prove that it all was meant for them.

Updates of his tributes have regularly been fed to him, during the early hours of the games. A score of one for the boy and six for the young girl, the unlikely favourite has already been picked for the District; even with the below average scores. He can not see the thrill in his citizen’s eyes as he did last time, no excitement as they chanted the Rasoio and Moon name. They have already given up.

His suggestions of holding small morale raising events are brushed aside. ”All attention needs to be on the games. You can hold your festivals afterwards.” A festival of defeat? As the two familiar caskets are carried into the District. His people need him now but the door in his office is locked and he is trapped inside.

||

”The twelve year olds are rather something.” The recap of the bloodbath is projected in his office, while his delegates surround the desk. All nods follow his comment, a few Ahhs and Mmhs too. ”She is the one who they all are chanting for, the tribute relative excitement must have fallen through. How different it is.” The moment Gillian Imberline kills Apollo Salon is on repeat, after two viewings of it, Pierre looks away. He stands at the window of his office, looking to the town square below.

”The Capit…”

He cuts himself off as he turns and faces the Capitol representative that has found home inside his four walls. He keeps the sting of the higher ups to himself, quickly turning it around. ”We will have to watch her, everybody else is.”

||

Day two is live on his screen in the office, of course his two tributes are facing each other. Everyone sits and stands around his office, all silence but from the audio of the television. Pierre watches between his hands, despite the cold, sweat trails down his brow. It is too early in the games to have a face off like this, he was not prepared.

All the paperwork to fill out and reassurances to send across the District if it does happen. False scripts written for his speeches as he apologises to his District for their tributes killing each other, he is not ready for it.

C’rizz is cut up by his opponents and Gillian is a hand in it all.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Hunched over his desk, he is the first to break the silence as the fight hits its climax. ”Just run, get out!” His hands cover his face again, barely a view for his eyes to watch the next events unfold. It is so quick and swift by the District Eleven and it is all over for the male representative of District Eight.

”Shit!” Pierre slams his fist on the table as he stands up, evacuating from the room in a huff, his viewing of day two is over for now. It is too early in the games to lose one already.

There is going to be a lot of paperwork.

Last Edit: Apr 29, 2018 7:17:10 GMT -5 by frankel

frankel
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4,211 POSTS
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last seen May 31, 2024 14:35:29 GMT -5

call me jaded

back at it again | mayor one-shots [78th] Apr 29, 2018 9:30:45 GMT -5

Post by frankel on Apr 29, 2018 9:30:45 GMT -5

P I E R R E

”It’s day six.”

There s no time for mourning, not while he is surrounded by the morally blocked shadows in his office. Day two deposited a chunk of disappointment straight onto his head, the ordered champagne bottles are for taming the guilt inside of him, rather than the celebrations that the capitolites drink too. Five of them have called Eight their home during the seventy-eighth and they only leave Pierre’s side when he goes home to his family. Cheers are the only emotions that have come from the town hall as the four days progressed from C’rizz’s death. They are mourning him outside and he has been forgotten inside as the twelve-year-old bares the banner.

It’s the top twelve, both tributes got this far last games…

”Oh they have done this on purpose!” Amongst the fortress of trees, his tribute is in the company of the entire wealth alliance and of course a mutation looms in their shadows. ”Of course they have, this will be a great show.” All the screens zoom in on the fight, Pierre sits at his desk, his viewing of the games between his hands as it has always been for the past week.

This one has been far more stressful than the ones before, the catalyst of Shelby’s victory is slowly fading, and now more disappointment and loss is being racked up for the hearts of his District. Obviously, those in his presence right now don’t see it. How many scripted speeches can cure the heartache of the many? All the promises and cleaning up of services. It won’t be long until the next elections, he needs to find something to have etched to his name so that he can remain in this seat for another couple of years. So much stress to carry but there is joy to be found in it all. New bricks to add to the crumbling medical centres and fair wages for all those inside the factories, there are changes happening but there just needs to be more…

All the first hits are aimed at Gillian’s ally, some relief can be found in the opening seconds of this fight but there is smoothness never lasts very long in the games. Fire is being played with, so much brutality has come out of the fights in this past week, nobody will walk away from this without their skin charred and his heart sinks for the little girl in the middle of the inferno.

She is caught in the crossfire, there is a rumble outside from those watching on the big screens, they can predict what is coming. One lit javelin in the hand of the District One, just one throw and that’s the end of the games for District Eight…

Pierre burrows his head into the pile of papers on his desk. Nothing has him prepared for stepping out onto that stage in front of the crowd that is raging outside. Another repeated script from the games before as Daniela fell to the hand of the victor.

”Wow, what a throw that was!” The capitolites are blind to the aftermath that is likely to happen, the entertainment is all they see, not the pain that has been left behind from it. Pierre feels all that pain and it is washed away by his third glass of champagne. Forced smiles and fake happiness, that is all he can carry as he steps outside. It hasn’t even been minutes and he is ushered to the stage, the script for the speech has already been written and he cares to forget about what he delivers…

”C’rizz Moon and Gillian Imberline, they are two warriors that have perfectly carried District Eight with pride…”

||

”The finale is finally here!”

They want to experience the excitement, Pierre is just relieved it will nearly be over for another year. Another year to sweep up the pieces, just for them all the scattered across the ground again. Another year of drifting solitude, scripted speeches and cutting the tape on opening new services. It is the time of year he enjoys the most, a little bit of peace to relish in before the fair comes rolling into town.

Neither of the two are who he wanted in the finale but one of them, he will have to welcome to his home in a couple of weeks. He is not a betting man, he can’t predict who he will be shaking hands with.

Rather than peering through his hands, he stands against the wall, his hands resting behind him on the windowsill. He is on the side-lines of the tension that is rumbling in the air. The ooos and aaas are all the amusing as the fires extinguish. Only seconds left until the final cannon sounds.

Bang!

And so, the District will prepare to welcome Stella Blakesley of District Twelve, a District in a much worse state than his own. A District he would happily welcome over the one that took his final tribute of the games.

Now life will turn to normal, but the pain has increased for another twelve months…