85th Opening Ceremonies

District Seven !
Mentors: Jacinta Salazar [rose] / Mackenzie Pryce [dars]
Stylists: Colt Royale [dars] / Lazarus Holt [griffin]
Tributes: Hellemine Cauchemar [kay] / Jamison Wolfram [dars]

They rain like ashes; still they reign.

To pay homage to the most fearsome threat of a Seven resident, this year's tributes are dressed in all gray. The girl wears a dress with a long train of textured ruffle, the boy a suit with matching material. Each wears make up that looks more like soot than fashion, smears of gray and black on parts of their faces that do a good job of dirtying them up and highlighting their features all at once. The girl's eyes look exceptionally green like the forest in which she was raised; the boy's eyes are as dark as the flames that destroyed it. As they begin to make their way down the strut, pieces of their clothing begin to flake off, leaving a trail of ashes in their wake. They're so delicate looking: almost like snow. A gentle reminder of the devastation that just burned through moments before.

district 1,
category is: linen legacies

lions & gems, emmett & jade; dripping in oppulance, district one excellence, history and herstory, regal young things, growing socialites. family names and exquisite standards, make it gay, make it soft,, ode to Le Roux and Morin, Salcedo and Crowe. their skin is painted greyscale and the colors radiate something brilliant

showcasing: pride and joy, scars and shame, the fragility of precious materials. 

x x
x x

Marsha Mellow

Arabella and Cyro.

See, I could remember their names if I wanted to.

This year’s crop had come to us fresh, absolutely stunning in the sense that there had been drama surrounding Eleven’s reaping. And yes, I know that last year had been the double izar sibling reaping, but to be honest I was getting tired of all of those kids swarming the reaping bowl and making a story out of it. There were only so many times you could dab a tissue at your eyes pretending to cry (I haven’t been able to shed a tear in twelve years anyway, this face is cinched to the gods, okay?) before it becomes tedious.

Now – the girl’s a little bit more mysterious than the boy. A strong, stolid type that probably will get underestimated and left far too long under the radar, only for folks to be shocked she could wind up at the end. Which is typical, the world just writing off someone that isn’t as brash as maybe the foil of her counterpart was. Too bad for her I was going to put her right on the map if I could, whether or not she wanted it.

And Cyro – can we talk for a minute how damn handsome this boy is? Eleven could’ve really used some of that genetic diversity and this boy has the nerve to throw all of it to the mercy of the capitol. Oh, and the little matter of leaving a baby behind. How many replays are we going to get during commercials of him and his little baby boy to really play up those angles? I mean, I hope they do because I sure as hell am going to bring that up every time I need to get some money for these kids.

“Look, this year we’re going in a different direction. Regal is out. Kings. Queens. Princes. Princesses. It’s not the moment.” I adjusted the rigging of the wooden bodice and spraying a mist from a spray bottle across the banana leaves that decorated the front. “We’re about the kingslayers, the queenslayers here. People in Eleven rise up from the earth and they step forward and they know – they’re the ones that don’t need anything else than what they have to win.”

I stepped back and gave a nod. The drama of the green capes; the leather wristlets that looked like carved branches; the boots covered in moss. I moved to hand them their swords in sheaths – sea foam green, to match – and grinned.

“Remember. Narrow yours eyes first, grit your teeth and try to give us a murderer’s smile.” I moved to squeeze some Vaseline on my index fingers. “Okay now open up, this’ll help your teeth shine…”

a r a b e l l a .

***

Arabella’s dreams were finally coming true. 

They had dressed her like one of the warrior’s from her dreams.

She ran careful hands down the bodice of her armour, the details so delicate. Her arms looked like their were encased in branches. The cape thrown around her shoulders decorated with detail that took the breath away from her. She looked like she had just stepped outside a magical forest and she was out for revenge.

She looked strong, she looked fierce. She looked beautiful, powerful like she was something to be reckoned with. She never thought, not once in her life, that she would literally be able to come one of the characters from her stories, so much so that she had to pinch herself slightly, making sure that once again her over active imagination had not taken over.

It hadn’t, and she curses herself for the pain that bolted up her arm.

Arabella Shirley and Cyro Krane of district Eleven would not slip into the background this year, no they would be the standouts and reminding the whole of Panem that they would not be taken down easily, or quietly. They would be heard. They would be remembered.