the monstrosity of man | ursula fray ❨ speech ❩

Ursula has the gaze of a hawk circling its prey, and she moves with the grace of a feline on the prowl — but as she stands before the audience in the town square, her morality cannot be denied. She wants to encourage the illusion of being a familiar presence to these people, a woman that is unashamed of her most fragile parts. She is a mother, and she is a mourner; she is someone who has walked the line between loving and losing.

The truth is that she is shaped from iron, that her spine is more steel than bone, and that there are very few individuals who could claim to know her in her most honest form — but her eyes are so bright, and her smile is so enchanting, that she captures the crowd before she even begins to address them with her speech.

“My name is Ursula Fray, and I’d like to thank each of you for being in attendance. To start, I’ll break the ice as is tradition for these campaigns.” Her voice is smooth and energetic, but there’s a tightness to her features that tells the full story: ‘You already know me. I am not someone who needs an introduction.’

Ever the hypocrite, she carries on without pause. “I have been a citizen of this district for the last thirty-eight years, and throughout that time, I have remained a loyal and steadfast member of our society. I will not speak falsely of my status, as I have always known and enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle—”

She looks to the workers, to the lower class; a pitiful glance is all that she will offer them. “—but One is built on the foundation of being an elite community. Our trade, as a whole, is luxury. For a time, we were the Capitol’s pride and joy. None of the other districts could match us in wealth, or in sheer power. I am not ashamed to be a reminder of the dignity that we once held.”

Her fist clenches and she raises it in an act that is all at once both defiant and dedicated solely to the Capitolite viewers. “Our last victor happens to be my son, Justice. That was nearly eight years ago. Before his victory, I lost a daughter to the Games — and after he returned home, I lost another two of my children. Still to this day, I expect all of my eligible kids to be prepared to enter the arena and fight for not only the honour of the Fray name, but for our district.”

A sad expression is evident on her face for a moment, but it’s all for show. “I have learned to accept my sacrifices, and those of my children, as something that is necessary. It is my duty, as is theirs. We are champions, and we are forces to be reckoned with, and I have no shame training my family to be ready for our reality. Because the Games are just that; they are a real and present danger. We do not need to live with lies.”

With a sly smirk and a wave of her hands, she quells any thoughts that perhaps she is inspiring rebellion. “That’s not to say that they don’t hold a purpose. They do. And I, for one, embrace them. We, more than any other district, share the enjoyment and excitement of our Capitol. It would be my honour as mayor to encourage that mindset in all of One’s residents, and in the same way that I helped to ensure our last victor, I will do everything in my power to train our youth. Our academies will be improved, our trainers will be more educated, and soon another champion will be in our presence. I promise you that.”

It’s a passing thought, but she closes her introduction by answering the prompt. “And, to focus on the central topic, I am confident that I would be capable of improving the living situation here in One. I am not against supporting our district out of my own pocket, as I have done for years, and I would be keen to start several charities and fundraisers. Our people should be active and come together, and if I can light a fire under all of you, then nothing would make me prouder. Let us walk, together, into a new and shining future. Let us prove why One is the crown jewel of Panem.”