85th Tribute Interviews
Jun 12, 2020 19:31:05 GMT -5
Post by lance on Jun 12, 2020 19:31:05 GMT -5
KENJI
You didn't understand why all of this shit was necessary. All of the pageantry and fakeness and splendor - it almost made you sick. Not quite as much as the form-fitting suit that you'd been forced into by your joke of a stylist, but close.
But you'll suck it up and if worse comes to worse, you'll fall back on and play your assigned angle - an angle of sullen looks and apathy. Some Capitolites love a so-called "bad boy", or so you'd been told, and of all the angles that you could have taken, that one was agreed upon to be the one you'd do best at.
Not like you'd need to commit much effort to outdo your district partner. Lysander had played her angle perfectly, even if "drunk that had already given up on the world" wasn't an angle that was recommended to, well, just about anybody. But you could do something. Like it or not, the love of the Capitol would have a factor in your eventual victory if that was, in fact, something you wanted. But was it? Were you in this for the victory or just the euphoric end of dying on your feet instead of in a back alley due to starvation?
That remained to be seen, and currently was hardly your most urgent concern.
"And now, also from District Five, Kenjiiiiiiii Nakamuraaaaaaaaa!" Well, that part was familiar. You were used to having your name broadcast across the arena, towards an audience - even if this audience and arena outsized your hometown turf by many hundreds.
A hint of a smirk crossed your face. Maybe you could handle this. It was just three minutes, after all.
"So, Kenji, my boy," says the colorful old man sitting across from you once you've settled down in the plushest chair you've ever sat in. "You and your district partner got matching scores of Five in your private training sessions. As you are also from District Five, I must ask - was this intentional, or mere coincidence?"
Ah. An easy one. Heh. It's a good thing you already decided you weren't going to have anything to do with Lysander when it came to the arena. "Intentional? Seriously?" you say, and for a second you pause - not for dramatic effect, but because goddamn, my voice sounds weird as fuck when magnified like that. "I wish I could say it was a joint effort - but have you seen Lysander, Caesar? What makes you think it was in any way intentional when it came to her?"
That got some laughs. Your smirk grew wider. Okay, you took that back. This wasn't so bad.
"Ooooooh, we've got some spice here, folks!" More laughter - it was clear that Caesar was a master of his chosen art, and you'd do well to respect that. "Now, now, it already looks like you and your district partner may be at odds - or is it just playful banter?" You nod, because sure, if the words put in your mouth were better than what you could come up with on your own, then why not? "I see, I see! Well, as I was saying, how about your peers? Any one of the other tributes catch your eye?"
Yes. Terra Markov from Six and Emmett Le Roux from One and Steel Campano from Eight through direct action, and several more through careful observations from afar. But what kind of cocky ass answer was that? "Nah, not really, Caesar." You shrug. "What point is there in paying attention to others when they're all going to be dead in a couple of weeks, anyway?"
That got the crowd roaring. You can see where the Careers got their fame, where many of them had managed to hang on to it even in the aftermath of extended failures. Capitolites loved this kind of persona. So you'd do your best to hold onto it for as long as it took. Even if that was only a couple more minutes.
"Confident, eh?" Caesar says, and you wink in response.
Yes, you actually wink. Ugh.
"I mean, I've been fighting for my entire life, Caesar. This is what I do best. Why shouldn't I be?"
"Fair enough, fair enough, my boy. Now, tell me, surely someone as youthful and fiery as you has someone special back home, right?"
Ugh. Seriously? "Nah, I'm an open book. Only things I love that love me back are always hanging out at my sides." You raise your fists and kiss each one as exaggeratedly as you could possibly manage. If you had done that to Patricia, you likely would have had to explain to the Capitol medics why you had somehow caused her eyes to permanently roll into the back of her head. But for the Capitolites? Yeah, you guessed it. It worked.
Caesar too, included. Somehow. "Oh myyyyyyyy!" The old man pretends to swoon, and goddamn, how can one act so fucking fake on national television and maintain their dignity? But you keep the mirthless grin plastered on, and mercifully, the old man decides to bring it to a close. "Unfortunately, my friends, we're almost out of time, so I must bring this to a close. But tell me, Kenji my boy, do you have any parting thoughts or words you'd like to share?"
Heh. If you shared what you really thought, you'd be killed before the Games ever began and replaced with a body double. So you go for the more professional approach instead. "Yanno, Caesar, this might be a bit hard to believe, but I'm not really much of a talker." You raise your fists and twist them back and forth, putting them on full display. "So I'll let these do the talking instead, once we get to the arena."
Thirty seconds later, you're safely off-stage, the focus has been shifted to Terra Markov from Six, and you've somehow managed to avoid dry-heaving onto the backstage. You'll take that as a win any day.
But you'll suck it up and if worse comes to worse, you'll fall back on and play your assigned angle - an angle of sullen looks and apathy. Some Capitolites love a so-called "bad boy", or so you'd been told, and of all the angles that you could have taken, that one was agreed upon to be the one you'd do best at.
Not like you'd need to commit much effort to outdo your district partner. Lysander had played her angle perfectly, even if "drunk that had already given up on the world" wasn't an angle that was recommended to, well, just about anybody. But you could do something. Like it or not, the love of the Capitol would have a factor in your eventual victory if that was, in fact, something you wanted. But was it? Were you in this for the victory or just the euphoric end of dying on your feet instead of in a back alley due to starvation?
That remained to be seen, and currently was hardly your most urgent concern.
"And now, also from District Five, Kenjiiiiiiii Nakamuraaaaaaaaa!" Well, that part was familiar. You were used to having your name broadcast across the arena, towards an audience - even if this audience and arena outsized your hometown turf by many hundreds.
A hint of a smirk crossed your face. Maybe you could handle this. It was just three minutes, after all.
"So, Kenji, my boy," says the colorful old man sitting across from you once you've settled down in the plushest chair you've ever sat in. "You and your district partner got matching scores of Five in your private training sessions. As you are also from District Five, I must ask - was this intentional, or mere coincidence?"
Ah. An easy one. Heh. It's a good thing you already decided you weren't going to have anything to do with Lysander when it came to the arena. "Intentional? Seriously?" you say, and for a second you pause - not for dramatic effect, but because goddamn, my voice sounds weird as fuck when magnified like that. "I wish I could say it was a joint effort - but have you seen Lysander, Caesar? What makes you think it was in any way intentional when it came to her?"
That got some laughs. Your smirk grew wider. Okay, you took that back. This wasn't so bad.
"Ooooooh, we've got some spice here, folks!" More laughter - it was clear that Caesar was a master of his chosen art, and you'd do well to respect that. "Now, now, it already looks like you and your district partner may be at odds - or is it just playful banter?" You nod, because sure, if the words put in your mouth were better than what you could come up with on your own, then why not? "I see, I see! Well, as I was saying, how about your peers? Any one of the other tributes catch your eye?"
Yes. Terra Markov from Six and Emmett Le Roux from One and Steel Campano from Eight through direct action, and several more through careful observations from afar. But what kind of cocky ass answer was that? "Nah, not really, Caesar." You shrug. "What point is there in paying attention to others when they're all going to be dead in a couple of weeks, anyway?"
That got the crowd roaring. You can see where the Careers got their fame, where many of them had managed to hang on to it even in the aftermath of extended failures. Capitolites loved this kind of persona. So you'd do your best to hold onto it for as long as it took. Even if that was only a couple more minutes.
"Confident, eh?" Caesar says, and you wink in response.
Yes, you actually wink. Ugh.
"I mean, I've been fighting for my entire life, Caesar. This is what I do best. Why shouldn't I be?"
"Fair enough, fair enough, my boy. Now, tell me, surely someone as youthful and fiery as you has someone special back home, right?"
Ugh. Seriously? "Nah, I'm an open book. Only things I love that love me back are always hanging out at my sides." You raise your fists and kiss each one as exaggeratedly as you could possibly manage. If you had done that to Patricia, you likely would have had to explain to the Capitol medics why you had somehow caused her eyes to permanently roll into the back of her head. But for the Capitolites? Yeah, you guessed it. It worked.
Caesar too, included. Somehow. "Oh myyyyyyyy!" The old man pretends to swoon, and goddamn, how can one act so fucking fake on national television and maintain their dignity? But you keep the mirthless grin plastered on, and mercifully, the old man decides to bring it to a close. "Unfortunately, my friends, we're almost out of time, so I must bring this to a close. But tell me, Kenji my boy, do you have any parting thoughts or words you'd like to share?"
Heh. If you shared what you really thought, you'd be killed before the Games ever began and replaced with a body double. So you go for the more professional approach instead. "Yanno, Caesar, this might be a bit hard to believe, but I'm not really much of a talker." You raise your fists and twist them back and forth, putting them on full display. "So I'll let these do the talking instead, once we get to the arena."
Thirty seconds later, you're safely off-stage, the focus has been shifted to Terra Markov from Six, and you've somehow managed to avoid dry-heaving onto the backstage. You'll take that as a win any day.
NAKAMURA
