Welcome to the 100th Hunger Games (RP)

[justify][sup][size=12][font=arial]Haze turned as Caitlin entered She has...silver hair?. He said to himself. Hazen had seen her around the school but had never talked to her. "Ah. Miss Caitilin. So glad you could join us." Damian said in his capital accent, his purple hair gleaming in the sun light coming from the windows. Caitlin--"Remus, their mentor started, "--I already told this to Hazen. You want them to like you so do whatever you can. Also-" he said focusing on the both of them, "tell me what you want m to do. We can train individually or whatever you want."

N/A

[color=black]Click names for appearances and the word outfit for the outfit
--Damian Airless//District Two Capital Representative//Outfit[/url
--[url=http://img.styl.fm/resize/watermark/item/75/1a/dc/ae78.jpg]Remus Dappwood//Won 9 years ago at age 13 for district 2
--Lindell Faremen//Won 17 years ago at age 18 for district 7

Dallas stared at the huge Capitol. And, for the first time ever, he felt a little scared. Not much, but just enough to make him feel sick. He swallowed his bun and stood up. "Well, there it is, the Capitol. Bigger then I thought," he commented in awe. He couldn't eat any more, so he tried to count the fancy stores, and o lost track at 103. He ran his fingers through his hair, hoping not to look like the messy farm boy he was before the reaping.

Mandy had stopped crying by now, and she dashed into her room and brushed her hair. She was unrecognizable from the reaping girl on the train. She picked out a simple pink and brown dress and plated her hair in a fancy braid, the same way her mother did it.

Mandy smiled at herself in the mirror. She decided for the interviews she would be cute. Not the older girls sexy act, but the small, sweet, cute girl everyone liked. Maybe that way the sponsors would be drooling at her feet, eager to help her. Because, at this stage, sponsors would be her only chance.

Dallas frowned at the grimy boy in the mirror. He knew he should bathe, but he did not want to. He washed his face, though, and put on a black suit, but took it off shortly. He then dressed in his simple jeans-and-a-tee-shirt look and went back to the dining car.

OOC: could I rp one of the district 10 stylists?

Ic: Dallas forced down a few mouth full's of stew. It was not fear, just panic. He knew he had to talk on stage, be on camera all the time, and asked questions about his life. He did not want that to happen, though. If he could live through the interviews, he should win.

[justify]^N/A

^{[b]"No. Sorry I don't. But I'm fast. I used to beat every kid in my school in a race. And I'm flexible and light on my feet. I don't weigh much if I got injured and I can run. " she answered, slightly disappointed even with herself. "I could try to get something quickly and we could meet up. " she answered. The thought of wearing something explicit or the chariots sounded humiliating. She hoped for at least to look like a tree. District seven always looked like trees.}

^{ooc--did you see that district seven autumn leaf outfit too XD}[/justify]

Ever since he was a mere child, Rhys Maddox had always wondered whether it would be better to let one's death date slip upon one almost unnoticed, like a cloud passing over the moon, or if it would be better to know one's time of expiration and plan for it. Statistics say that, on average, four percent of people would opt for the latter choice. Rhys was among that four percent. He did not regret it.
Wishes so rarely come true. Like so many of us, Rhys had believed his luck was cursed from birth. Snake-bitten, as his elder brother would have once said. But his dying wish, to know when Death would lay claim on him, was granted ahead of schedule.
Right now Rhys was very much alive, you see! His pride was worn in his posture, the way his eyes claimed everything they landed on, despite his predicament of utter powerlessness that, once he was within the arena, involved being forced to grovel for food or water or medicine from spoiled-filthy pigs, and involved brutally slaughtering innocent children for the aforementioned pigs' entertainment.
Outside of the world of metaphysics, now. Had he attempted speaking, his voice would have cracked on account of its minimal use, as Rhys had murmured not a word since before even the reaping earlier that day. When the paper death sentence containing his name had inevitably been drawn during the reaping, words of confusion rippled among the crowd. No one knew a 'Rhys Maddox', nor did any family members come to visit the boy before he was ushered onto the tributes' train.
For the whole ride, he remained in one seat, with his eyes stubbornly locked on the blur of trees that sped past the window much too quickly to be truly glimpsed. In amusement, he pondered whether Capitol citizens even knew what a tree looked like, if they were so accustomed to travelling at such a dizzying pace. Perhaps, if you showed a driver a green blur scribbled from crayons, might he exclaim, "Oh, that's grass!" or would he likewise associate a blue blur with sky, a pink blur with a rosebush?
While his District partner and mentors, all of whom were gathered in the same car as he, occasionally spoke, Rhys chose to abstain from their conversation. He was an extraordinarily taciturn person, whose few words brimmed with meaning and emotion. He would not chatter mindlessly and effusively even if that was required to attract sponsors. No, that would be allowing the Games to change him, and that simply could not be.

Finn looked at Carter. He thought the best way to get her to trust him before they got caught up in training and stylists and mentors was to tell her the truth.
"I'm not sure I can do this," he admitted. "I can barely kill an animal for good reason, let alone an innocent human being." He put his head in his hands. "My only resolve was to protect you. I would gladly be your ally in the arena if you want." He thought this sounded really weird and it probably did. He just wanted Carter to know what his intentions were. He vaguely wondered when they would meet their stylists. Then he thought about mentors.
Great, we get the drunk and the so called 'love birds.' This outta be interesting, he thought. He then realized that they had all survived the games. They do have very valuable skills. He just hoped that Carter would be prepared when she entered that dreaded arena.

[justify]^N/A

^{Sage fallowed Velvet as she led them out of the door way and into the entrance car. Sage got suddenly very conscious of what she was wearing. She turned towards Spence, looking at what he was doing. Sage stood up straight and tried to wear the brightest smile she could muster. The bright doors opened as the roar of crowds filled her ears. Lindell Fareman, Sage's chosen mentor leaned down, "Sage, smile bright, speak happily, and make them like you." she said as she herself plastered on a smile. Velvet pushed them out of the car. Sage smiled and waved as best as she could as the crowds watched her walk by. Velvet, looking as calm as if she did this every day lead them to a car waiting for them. Sage, Spence, and Lindell piled in as the car started to drive to the building were they'd be training, meting their stylists, and staying before they stood on death's door.}

^{Twinkle, If you don't mind, I actually already came up with ideas for the district seven mentor and district representative. Click name for appearance and outfit for the outfit
--Velvet Monty// District Seven Capital Representative//Outfit
--Lindell Faremen//Won 17 years ago at age 18 for district 7}[/justify]