You Wish You Were Me

Fiorella Eldora II 23 II District 4 Stylist II Capitol Citizen

[fiorellaeldora]

Task 007: What Career Is Best For You?

Quiz Result:

Front Line Support 

[fiorellaeldora]

Task 010 Part Two: Wear The Crown

Fiorella’s dream crown

[fiorellaeldora]

Ariel Ayers’ Chariot Outfit for the 119th Biannual Hunger Games

@airyariel

[fiorellaeldora]

Task 005: Diary Entry

Dearest Diary,

I’m tired. So very very tired.

It feels like there’s a dark cloud looming over the Capitol and it just won’t seem to pass for some reason.

Tell me, God: is this it? Is this how it all ends?

These rebels are really twisting the knife this time; Alice managed to get so far as to get people killed in attacks, but these Black Eagles seem to be dangling a carrot over the nest.

With each day that passes closer and closer to the games, the fear and anxiety that comes with an unexpected attack from these maniacs is driving everyone nuts. 

The lady who works at the fur shop just across the street from the tower - the one who I wave hello to every time I pass it on my way inside before crossing the street - doesn’t even bother looking my way anymore. Her expression turns to fright when she notices me; probably because of how close I work with those who are involved in the games.

That’s how fearful people are now. They’re scared. They can’t even trust those who they never talk to, but simply smile at just to be kind. 

Look, I despise the games too, but I don’t believe that anyone should be killed for it. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s how it works with the Capitol, nor the rebels. 

I have no idea what to expect next.

Love,

Fiorella xx

[fiorellaeldora]

huntedhunter:

‘‘I have more of those,’‘ he retorted calmly, breathing again from the cigarette and out, sending the smoke away in a thin wave upwards. ‘‘Are you interested in making a deal with the devil for a little bit of lung cancer? I’d be more than happy to oblige.’‘

“I don’t mind,” she claimed, looking at him and then turning her gaze out towards the view once more, “Not like it’s going to make a difference; everyone seems to be dropping like flies, anyway.”

[fiorellaeldora]

zaraining:

‘‘Are you okay, darling? I hope you’re not blind or anything. I don’t want to hurt your eyes,’‘ she pouted, melting out of compassion.

“My tributes just died, basically,” she explained, now getting up with her drink in hand, “I came in here because this seems to be the only room in the entire world that isn’t playing the games at all. Not even the bathroom was safe.”

[fiorellaeldora]

ottocarrack:

The games were somehow still going on. The only way that Otto would be able to describe them was ‘never-ending nightmare’, but then again they did end. They ended after 23 people were dead, never to return. And somehow, beyond her comprehension, all of this death was enjoyed by the people of the Capitol. It was barbaric and disgusting, but there was nothing that she could do but watch between her tasks, making mental notes of all the horrible things that occur to later write down in her journal.

There was a few minutes of down time between her last task of fixing a light and the next job to come in and the entire time, her eyes were glued to the screen, silently wishing that the end would come sooner. It never did though. The Gamemakers liked to draw it out for the entertainment of the citizens. 

Otto almost jumped as a girl approached, pulling her out of her trance with a question. “Uh… beef, beef, beef…” Her eyes scanned over all of the tables, resulting in a frown. “Shoot. I’m pretty sure that second to last table over there is the beef, but don’t quote me on that.” A quiet laugh escaped, nervous that if it wasn’t the beef that she’d get in trouble. “Seriously. Don’t.”

“Oh my God!” Fiorella had finally recognized the girl, “Aren’t you the technician? It’s so nice to meet you!” she said, extending her hand out to shake hers, “I’ve seen you around the tower but hadn’t had the chance at getting to meet you.”

[fiorellaeldora]

xproserpina:

“Oh, bless you,” Proserpina gushed sympathetically. Death had always been something of a constant in her life. Her mother had been shot when Proserpina was two years old, and so many of her father’s friends went out only to never be seen again. She’d been raised to view it as the only certainty in life, and it did not scare her as it did others. “Part of being alive is in dying, sweetheart. All living things must do it. At least these kids get to go out with a bit of pizzazz, although it does seem like an awful waste.” She was thinking specifically of Misty as she said this last part, who she was certain would have made an excellent mobster had she grown into adulthood.

“I know. I guess when you put it that way, it makes sense,” she confessed, “It’s just so different seeing it from the inside now rather than from an outsiders point of view. Everything used to be through a television screen.”

[fiorellaeldora]

@ottocarrack

Fiorella was just walking away from the bar after what felt like doing so for the tenth time this night. She had never had so much alcohol during a ball before. After her tributes died, she went a little nuts and had no choice but to suck it up and get through the night as no one was allowed to leave until the victor was crowned.

She wanted so badly to be home right now. Normally, she watched the games from the catacombs below the arena and went straight back to her quarters once the bloodbath had concluded. But this? She was forced to watch every minute. 

It wasn’t until she turned around and noticed a girl who had somewhat looked like her from behind. She then approached her as she needed a little guidance, “Hey, do you know where table with all of the beef is? I’m starving and cannot find it for the life of me. There’s so many rows of them that I lost track of everything,” she explained.

[fiorellaeldora]

zaraining:

She didn’t know where she was entering, but she was the ray of light flooding the room, trying to go somewhere quiet to apply better, purpler makeup. ‘’Oh, nobody, don’t worry,’’ she reassured the other person as if Fiorella had asked about a third person interrupting the two of them. After she’d shut the door closed, she realized it wasn’t a well lighted room at all for her purpose. ‘’Do you mind if I turn the lights on?’’

“Sure, go ahead,” she confirmed, her eyes still covered as she tried getting up; a premature hangover beginning to form. 

[fiorellaeldora]

xproserpina:

Proserpina frowned slightly, and then fixed a smile back on her face and looked around for a bin to put the dirty wipe in. “Your problem,” she explained with certainty, tossing the wipe away, “is that you’re too nice. Are you sure the Games are the right place for you? There are plenty of other jobs in the Capitol for a stylist- ones where your models won’t die more often than not. Have you considered looking into one of those?”

“No, I can’t do that,” she claimed, “I left my old life behind to be a stylist for the games. It’s everything I ever wanted. It’s just that now, as I work so closely with them, I realize that they’re just as human as I am. Before I started, I was so numb to the killing.”

[fiorellaeldora]

xproserpina:

“I’m a stylist,” Proserpina confirmed, smiling proudly. “Proserpina Pennywhistle, at your service.” She gave a little mock curtsy.

She put her bag down on the desk and found a pack of makeup removal wipes inside. “Come here. Your mascara is a mess. And when we’ve got you fixed up, maybe you can tell me what the problem is, ok?”

Fiorella simply didn’t respond by using her words, but rather just nodded in agreement and scooted over to get closer to the girl, positioning her face and having her eyes wiped clean.

“Thanks,” she mummer-ed, her mood still down a bit, “My tributes died. I keep getting too attached to them,” she explained.  

[fiorellaeldora]

huntedhunter:

Out for a cigarette break, Hunter still wasn’t feeling in his element, which was terribly odd for a ball. Those were usually his battlefield and moments to shine, but that year, it felt dreadful and boring after hours of early socialization and cocktails shoved down their throats alongside sunlight. None of it felt natural and Hunter couldn’t be at peace with that. 

He slid outside with a cigarette in between his teeth, not yet lit up, before noticing the pretty face outside. For once, the natural pick-up line felt useless. His spirits were too down to try a flirting game of that sort and that seemed like a waste of time. ‘’Don’t mind me, please. I’m just trying to get some fresh air,’’ he said, ironically, as he dragged the first smoke from his cigarette, as an opposite of fresh air.

“No, it’s fine,” she claimed, turning back to look out at the illuminating lights of the city.

She watched him as she took a puff from his cigarette, noticing as the smooth texture of it blew out into the air, masking over the gorgeous scenery just before vanishing forever.

“Hey, you got another one of those?” she asked. 

[fiorellaeldora]

xproserpina:

Proserpina was snooping. She’d be the first to admit this. How often did you get the opportunity to snoop around the presidential mansion? Her last time here had been eight years ago. Her uncle was with her. Not much snooping was done.

Opening an interesting-looking door, she flicked on the light and grinned. Studies were great for hiding things. She was too busy trying to figure out where to start that she didn’t notice Fiorella until she spoke, jumping and then quickly recovering herself before turning to face her. “It’s me; the cute one. Do you often lurk in darkened rooms like some sort of… shadow queen…?”

“What? No,” she said, getting up as she still covered her face. 

She was a little embarrassed since all she did for the past half hour was cry her eyes out and have a complete utter meltdown. 

She then looked at the girl. “Oh, I know you. You’re a stylist, just like me,” she smiled.

[fiorellaeldora]

@huntedhunter

After Fiorella had managed to calm herself down and return to the party, she had another drink as she caught up with some old friends from back when she wasn’t a stylist and used her father’s name - one of the head peacekeepers in the Capitol at the time - to get into the many balls held within this very palace. 

Afterward, she needed some air to relax. While resting her hands on the balcony outside, she took in the magnificent view of the shining city, to which it overlooked. 

She then heard someone come out from behind the screen door and walk onto the balcony. Fiorella turned her head to see who it was.

[fiorellaeldora]

Fiorella was sitting alone in what appeared to be a study.

The television in front of her was still shut off; the hum of silence beating like a drum in her ears. This was the only room in what seemed to be the entire nation that wasn't broadcasting the games. She had finally calmed herself down after the fit she threw upon witnessing Sybil's death.

At least it was quick, she thought. She didn't suffer like her sister did.

Suddenly, a flood of light came pouring in as someone opened the door. Fiorella immediately put a hand up to cover her eyes, as they were so well adjusted to the darkness.

"Who's there?"

[fiorellaeldora]

Self Para // Not Again

It was as if she heard ringing in her ears.

No, she thought, not again.

Fiorella had managed to purposely distance herself from Sybil in an attempt to not be so crushed when she died. She knew that when her sister Sierra, the much stronger and determined one, couldn’t make it, then neither could she.

Her death was not a shock, but it did sting a little. Not as much as it did with Sierra, but just a little. She was still her sister who resembled her younger blood so much that it was unbelievable. 

Fiorella had enough. She turned around and scurried off the to bathroom, pushing past people on the dance floor with their puffy fake wigs and neon nails; the light angelic sound of soft violin music playing in the background as people slowly jammed to it in groups of three and pairs of two. 

As she passed an avox who was serving drinks around the room with a round tray in one hand filled with tall glasses that contained some type of gold-tinged liquid, she slammed her cranberry vodka down on it and kept going. 

She didn’t know where she was headed, but it had to be somewhere far away from the many large screens that scaled the walls, endlessly playing the games with all views and all events being shown at all times of the night. There were no commercial breaks. No pauses. No interruptions from the rebels. 

But this time, just for once, she was hoping that they would. 

The worst part was that she couldn’t go home. They were instructed at the start of the ball that no one was allowed to leave until the games were over after eight hours. It was just about halfway at this point and the night felt endless. Hour one and two, and some parts of three, felt quick, but it was now slow for Fiorella. 

She ran into the bathroom - the only place that seemed to not be broadcasting the games on any large screens. That was, however, until after running in the stall to sit down and weep, she heard the familiar screaming and panic of the tributes. Confused, she opened the stall door and leaned out to notice a small flat screen on the wall, just next to the many mirrors and sinks. 

It was haunting her.

Within a matter of moments, she flew out the door, angrier than ever. She had to scream. She had to scream now.

Then, finding herself in what seemed to be an empty inner chamber within the ball room floor, Fiorella peaked in to notice that all the lights were off. She was convinced that she was still being watched on what she would imagine to be thousands of cameras plotted in the same room, but she no longer cared. What crime was she committing? Showing human emotion and empathy for the blood shed of an innocent?

She sat on one of the light brown colored leather couches and turned on a lamp that was beside the end of it. Resting in the dim room, she noticed a television mounted on the wall a yard or so away from where she was. It was off.

It was then, however, that she noticed how quiet it was. The room seemed to be sound proof from the outside world. Here, she was alone with herself and no noise. She didn’t have an appointment to get to, a meeting, errands to run; nothing.

So she sat there, tired of crying. Instead, she chose to close her eyes and try meditating on the good times in her life, the amazing opportunities, and her greatest past creations when it came to designing. 

This isn’t fun anymore, she thought. This isn’t fun.