Pulchra Ludus//Capitol//stylist//FIN Jan 26, 2020 13:23:23 GMT -5
Post by Sleepy Fluttershy on Jan 26, 2020 13:23:23 GMT -5
Name: Pulchra Ludus
You walk into a room on a pair of incredibly long legs. Calm. Collected. Sophisticated. Your lashes fall and rise in a mechanical motion. A slight smile like the one you only see on the paintings is plastered on your lips.
"Hello, darling, it's a delight to meet you".
Your voice is high pitched when you say that, almost as shrill as your mother's when she greets her endless acquaintances and friends at parties. When you were little her voice annoyed you but you got used to it eventually. There was nothing else to dislike about her - she was the perfect mother, always cared more about how you were dressed than what your grades were, took you to every social event on her schedule, let you drink champagne when you were ten. You've been her little princess for as long as you can remember and even when your sister started growing into another beautiful doll you were still a favorite.
You don't really ever think whether your upbringing was good or bad - must have been perfect if you managed to get your hands on a job every capitolite craves. You became a successful stylist in less than two years and now you make tributes. Their mothers may give birth to them but it is you who gives every one of them an image. Each of these pictures is unique in its own way and when people place their bets on those images, applaud their beauty, you know it's all thanks to you.
No one knows, however, how much it has always hurt you to see those beautiful pieces of art shredded into bloody deformed chunks of flesh that you can't even look at. Almost every games you watch the games and see your work ruined and disrespected. Maybe the one sitting in front of you right now will be a bloody mess within few days. Nevertheless, you smile.
You gaze at your new client through your blue glassy eyes. Some people have said they look like stars, some people think they are coloured beads on the face of a lifeless doll. But it's not really important to you, after all, you are usually the person behind the scenes. It's not you the whole country will watch on stage.
"You have a pretty face, I see a lot of potential here. With some makeup and a dress you'll turn heads. Now let's get to work on your image, shall we?"
It's a standard phrase every time. Some encouragement to make the person feel welcome, then down to business as quickly as possible. You wouldn't want to get too attached, especially if it's a terrified wide-eyed child with trembling hands. You like the rude ones that have a bad attitude or shocked teenagers - they are not as easy to like. How do you feel about them dying? You really couldn't tell because it's not your job to love them.
You will spend days and nights at work, making last minute arrangements, thinking of new details you could add to every costume. And after they are shipped off to the Arena you'll throw a party at your house and invite people to watch the games with them. You are not fond of parties but that's the way life is... Right?
As soon as your masterpiece falls on the ground and the image shatters you will turn away and pour yourself something strong. The picture you painted fades and all that's left is a maimed broken human. You take a big gulp (farewell, my artwork) and deep inside you something breaks but pretty dolls don't cry.