FULL NAME: Persephone Octavia De Rosa.
AGE: Twenty-one.
D.O.B: May 22nd.
DISTRICT/POSITION: District 1 escort.
FACE CLAIM: Elle Fanning.
OPINION ON THE GAMES – The Games, to Persephone, aren’t simply a fun reminder of the Capitol’s pride – they’re a necessary structure to her life, and indeed, a guilty pleasure late at night when she grows bored and fickle and finds herself re-watching the grizzliest moments on tape. Had she been from a lesser district, Pepper supposes she’d have volunteered herself and fancies her chances highly at ripping out the throat of a fellow humble underling. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, and at fourteen, during a juvenile recreation of the Games in one of the Capitol’s shopping malls, she took a life – hockey stick in her sweaty palms and hands that just wouldn’t stop thrashing, even with the tears streaming down her face when the Medics came to help. There was always a wildness in Sephy that took things too far, that didn’t know when to stop, that could never ‘love’ or simply ‘like’ something, but always took it to the extremes of obsession and addiction.
STRENGTHS: Tenacious, enigmatic, willing to put on a show, profound, elfin, perceptive, spirited, puckish, candid, bubbly.
WEAKNESSES: Callous, shallow, experiences emotions in extremes, decadent, unhinged, materialistic, volatile, sadistic, indifferent to the fate of her tributes, self-serving
– Hair in a white veil down her back and hands clasped in the image of reverence, Persephone learned from a young age how to act like the flower but be the serpent under it. Of all the angels in heaven, Lucifer was always her favourite; you had your wings clipped, too, cast out of God’s favour the day you first took a life – teeth marks in your knees, tears streaked down your pale face, as he lay there with his glass eyes staring back at you. That was the day she stopped caring at all.
– Growing up in the Capitol, image and artifice was her greatest love. She was blessed in the fact that strangers would stop in the street to compliment her cat-eyed mother on Persephone’s platinum hair, her bright blue eyes, the fact she’d never need to undergo cosmetic surgery, unless it was for animal enhancements. She liked to be stared at – a craving she took forth through her performative nature, playing many a part – an actor, a singer, a dancer, a commentator – in her track-record for living life as a walking piece of art.
– Persephone collects secrets like a magpie thieves silver – she is a scavenger of knowledge, of gossip, of snippets of people’s lives that no one else knows. Secrets, to her are the gold dust of the soul. More than anything, Pepper loves games – she loves to play them, and she loves to win them, but observing the fear of others as they realise their fatal error is all part of the enjoyment reaped from a challenge. Perhaps that’s why she was so desperate to put down the ballet shoes and begin her career as an escort, the ultimate puppet master, pulling strings like a spider in a web. District One seemed like the obvious bet – glamour, after all, was what she did best.
– In the city of glamour and excess, they had a drug for everything nowadays – to take the edge of, to hype the senses, to lose yourself to the subconscious. “You know me – I’ll try anything once,” she’d purr over an exchange of sterling, morphling in white lines dusted like icing sugar across the bathroom sink. Infected. The poison had started in her heart and spread to infect the whole. Maybe that’s why she has the wide eyes of a deer, that seem sort of helpless under the right light.
– Lying, so they say, is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. But to Pepper, it isn’t just fun, it’s compulsive. Don’t lie to me, Persephone, or your tongue will fall out. The first time she had told a lie, eight years old in a gingham print dress, tongue as sharp as a Stanley knife, eyes like a wild fire staring into those of her mother’s, she had felt invincible. After that, it was a downwards spiral, lying about the simplest of things, just for the thrill of it.
– She adores the inner workings of the mind – how easy it is to change its path, how words, and their meanings, can make a person laugh or cry in an instant. To have the power to control that is to be a God. It’s the power trip she craves; a possessive need for control that she, small and weak, had never had as a child. Ever since she was a child, Pepper’s eyes have always held a coldness to them – a lack of life, of expression, like the cold, glass eyes of a wooden doll. She’s ephemeral, her mind there for one moment, and gone the next, the life within her as wavering as the tides.
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