a jolly holiday

Holiday Truehart / former actress / current stylist-in-training for the hunger games

[holiday-truehart]

ares-carnahan‌:

@ttwstarters

Ares knew he did all he could for the kids. He didn’t have much faith, but he did what he set out to do. Still, the lack of alcohol was starting to really get to him, as he had cut his drinking back over the last week to try and keep sober long enough to help them to his highest capability. Of course, that had consequences. It started having consequences the second Serenity found out about the nightlock. 

The night before the private training sessions would happen, Ares fell into the bottle. He fell in hard. He drank almost an entire bottle of bourbon before he managed to stumble into the elevator and to the roof with another one in hand. His hands were still shaken to the point he could barely keep a hold of the bottle. As he got into the warm night air, the city lights began to blur together like distant stars. 

In his drunken stupor, he felt like he could launch himself toward them, as if his feet were made of rockets. Like he knew he could fly. So he took another long swig out of the bottle, feeling his chest ache from the pain of the burn before stumbling his way to the ledge of the roof. His tall frame was able to squeeze up until he was sitting along the stone before his long legs dangled over the edge below. He knew there was no way to jump, even if he wanted to. Even in his drunken stupor, he knew the barriers were there. 

Do I want to? he thought.

He never used to, not even in the mountains.

I deserve it for what I did to Sera.

His right leg pulls up underneath him and he somehow finds the balance to stand on the ledge and take another drink from the bottle. When he swallows it, he slides his foot so the toes of his boot are a few inches off of the ledge. His heart was racing. His chest hurt. His temples were pounding.

It was so loud.

Then he heard a voice behind him and the world suddenly stopped. He took a strangled breath and looked over his shoulder at the person who pierced his thoughts.

Holiday didn’t speak so much as screamed. She’d been hoping to enjoy a cup of tea on the rooftop before returning to work on Eleven’s interview attire. She hadn’t expected to find someone standing on the railing, thirteen stories up.

Her mug fell from her fingers, and she barely registered it shattering on the floor, or the tea reaching her feet through her open-toed heels. She was too focused on dashing forward, wrapping her arms around Ares’ legs so that he would have a much harder time falling.

“What are you doing?” she asked, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

[holiday-truehart]

Task 004 // Welcome to Starbucks

Holiday is more interested in tea than she is coffee. Her favourite at Starbucks would be Shaken Iced Passion Tango Tea Lemonade.  This drink is a mix of hibiscus, lemongrass, apple, and lemonade. Fruity flavours are Holiday’s favourites, so the apple and lemonade would be a welcome addition.

Most days, she would also order something to eat alongside it. Cake pops are a fun but tasty treat, and they do strawberry-flavoured ones. This, again, satisfies Holiday’s fruity cravings while also allowing her to indulge in the sorts of sugary foods she didn’t get to as a child.

[holiday-truehart]

Task 003 // Paint Me Like One of your Capitol Girls

For Holiday, I chose At The Balcony by Pino Daeni. The piece features a young woman peering over the edge of a balcony. The thing that initially made me think of Holiday was the woman’s hair, which is in a very Holiday style. But the more I looked at it, the more I realised; much of Holiday’s teenage years were spent in this exact position, looking at the world from her family’s mansion but unable to interact with it. It seemed like the perfect painting for her.

[holiday-truehart]

Task 002 // The Tribute Parade

“According to Ms. Truehart, the inspiration behind Eleven’s chariot outfits this year came from mentor Seeder Ridley herself.

In an exclusive interview, Holiday explained that she’d asked the mentor of the 31st Games for inspiration. “I really wanted to get a feel for District Eleven from someone who lives there,” she said.

Seeder suggested sunflowers and, in Holidays own words, “here we are!”

The petal lashes are actually made of paper, and the flower-crown is made of fabric flowers so that it will keep after the parade. The Official Hunger Games Museum are already looking to purchase it, along with a few other significant items from this year’s parade, for an exhibition next Spring.”

Image sources: lashes, flower-crown, shoes, dress

[holiday-truehart]

solar-arcane‌:

@ttwstarters

Solar was uncomfortable from the second he walked into the place.

He never thought the Capitol as an exquisite place, either. He had this image of it being nice to look at, but everything seemed so… much. There wasn’t a word to place upon it and it was nothing positive. His parents were staring dead down the center of a gun where the end result would be the possibility of both of his children dying. They knew that Vesta didn’t have a chance of living long unless they could afford treatment, which they couldn’t. Now, Solar was a tribute in the Games, with a one in twenty-four chance of returning.

It seemed even lower knowing that the sister of Katniss Everdeen was in the arena.

Still, Solar had one good thing going for him and it was the fact that his father had trained him in secret since he was young. Like any other Career tribute, that was what they did in their spare time. It was the only thing his Dad had ever known. It was the only thing he could pass down to his only son and it was proving to be a right choice. Now all Solar had to do was wait, bide his time, and fake his entire demeanor until the end.

Fool them first, then kill them.

The weight of that was stifling.

Still, as he finished with his stylists and he was dressed and ready to go, his scalp itching from the gel and his face hurting from the shaving and plucking, it didn’t stop random people from the Capitol he didn’t know grabbing a hold of him and squeezing on him. One of them grabbed him by the bicep and squeezed.

“Ooo, this one has muscles!” she squealed. “Such a strong boy from the power plants!”

“…please stop touching me,” Solar said as he attempted to shrug away from them, only to see someone cutting in. His first thought was that they were going to also be analyzing him, so dread filled him instantly.

The reason she’d felt drawn to this industry in the first place was always at the forefront of her mind while preparations were being made for the chariot parade. Victors were sold. The parade was partially about attracting the attention of all kinds of people she wanted nowhere near, well, anybody.

She always tried to be careful with Eleven’s tributes, always asked before she did anything, always explained exactly what she was doing and why. Most of them it seemed had never seen waxing strips before, or a proper shower, or a pair of hair-straighteners, but after she’d explained and talked them through it they were usually a little less scared.

She was running back to her private studio with two cups of tea, having promised her female tribute something to drink when she emerged from the shower, when she noticed the boy from.... one of the other districts, she supposed, being swarmed by sponsors. Before she really knew what she was doing, she was trying to find a way to get between them and him without spilling tea everywhere.

“Excuse me, ladies, I just need to borrow this one,” she said with a fake smile, turning to pass the boy one of her tea-cups. Her tribute could just have hers, Holiday could go without for a while longer. “I brought you your tea. What do you say we go find your mentor or someone?”

[holiday-truehart]

Holiday Truehart’s outfit for the 78th victory ball

“For herself, Truehart admitted her excitement at finally getting to wear the golden hues she favours.

“Gold and red are my go-to colours,” she confessed to our reporter. “Being able to use them together was like a dream.”

Eleven, of course, provides Panem with fruit and vegetables. And while Holiday is grateful for the broad colour palette she is provided with, she confessed that she has enjoyed the “glamour” of dressing herself and her team to the nines for Nine.”

Image sources: dress, makeup, hair, shoes

[holiday-truehart]

Seeder Ridley’s outfit for the 78th victory ball

@taintedones

““A sort of natural golden glow” is what Holiday said she was aiming for with District Eleven matriarch Seeder Ridley.

Draped in an elegant yellow ball-gown, Seeder’s arms have been adorned with a plethora of golden bangles. Her fingers feature matching gold rings.

Heels are not for everybody, and Holiday has elected to give Seeder a pair of sensible, though no less stylish, yellow flats.

The look is finished with a sophisticated updo incorporating a real yellow rose.

“I try to use natural products where I can,” Truehart explained. “Especially if they’re flowers.””

Image sources: hair, dress, jewellery, shoes

[holiday-truehart]

Thresh Okonjo’s outfit for the 78th Victory Ball

@thresh-okonjo

“With the golden fields of District Nine as her inspiration, stylist Holiday Truehart has dressed her youngest muse Thresh Okonjo in a shimmering satin waistcoat and matching bow-tie.

“I wanted to keep it simple,” she told our Fashion Fiends reporter. “It’s so easy to go overboard with gold, and it can make the entire outfit look tacky.”

As any Capitolite knows, no outfit is complete without the perfect pair of shoes. These soft golden leather Oxfords with a gentle gradient tie the whole look together.”

Image sources: suit, shoes

[holiday-truehart]

ares-carnahan‌:

“Good,” Ares said as he poised the glass to his mouth. “because it was a joke, that you obviously didn’t get.”

He took another slow drink from his whiskey before putting it back down on the table. He didn’t want to talk to anybody, but this girl had been hard pressed to do so. Ares put up with it, for some reason or another, like she would somehow sleep with him if he asked if he was just nice enough. Except that wasn’t something in the cards for him anymore. Part of him was almost scared that she would find him just interesting enough to place a booked night with him on her own accord. It wasn’t a secret that Ares had a reputation in that front anyway.

She introduced herself before he paused, taking in that name even in his drunken stupor and nodded his head. “Ares Carnahan,” he said as he took another long drink from his glass. 

Holiday wasn’t sure how to respond without sounding upset, so she didn’t. Instead she took a deep breath in, fixed a smile on her face, and then took a sip of her cosmo.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, always polite. 

She took another sip of her cocktail before allowing herself to turn her head and really look at the victor beside her. “Are you alright, Ares?” she asked hesitantly, unable to switch off the part of her that wanted to help everyone all the time.

[holiday-truehart]

ares-carnahan‌:

Good Lord, where did these people get these questions, he thought.

Ares rolled his eyes a little and shook his head as he took another drink of whiskey after the woman asked that question. He could only hope she wasn’t one of the stupid ones that made the hair color jokes that much easier, not that he was privy to making jokes now out of any time in his life. He glanced at her before shaking his head.

“No, I normally don’t,” Ares said in a deadpanned tone. He took another drink, nearly finishing off the rest of the glass when the bartender had already brought him another one. Ares dumped the remainder of what was in his current class into the new one and slid the other one over to him. “What else do you want to know? How tall I am? What my shoe size is?”

Holiday tried to hold onto the fact that she had been terrified of Thresh the first time they met, and now he was one of her best friends. For all she knew, all young male victors were like that. Granted, she couldn’t see Ares binge-watching Real Housewives of the Capitol of his own free will, but she held onto the hope.

“I don’t need to know those things,” she told him. “I’m not your stylist.” 

Realising after a moment that he might not know who she was at all, Holiday found herself smiling slightly at the thrill of being in a place where she wasn’t the biggest celebrity name. It was still a new feeling, even now. “My name is Holiday Truehart. I style for District Eleven.”

[holiday-truehart]

ares-carnahan‌:

Ares had never seen the girl that walked up, but her timid nature reminded him too much of the little Victor that he had just ripped into. However, she seemed to offer suggestions rather than clamming up on him. The only thing that was saving her from his cruel words was the fact that she wasn’t actually bad looking. So he sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead and cast a deadpanned stare at the girl. 

“Noted,” he said dryly as he was slid another glass of whiskey, to which he picked it up and took a drink from it. 

Holiday accepted her cocktail from the bartender with a small, soft, “Thank you,” before raising it to her lips and taking a sip.

“Do you usually have a beard?” she asked curiously. She didn’t think he had last year, but then she didn’t pay much attention to District Two usually. She only recognised him at all because he won within her own living memory.

[holiday-truehart]

ares-carnahan‌:

@ttwstarters

There was no way Ares Carnahan could have gotten here without being loaded on alcohol first.

His drinking had become severe after Seraphina was executed, now that the Carnahan name was tarnished because of her and the discovery of rebellion paraphernalia in her home with her boyfriend. Both him and her had been executed that day, both dragged into town, their crimes announced to the entire crowd of onlookers, placed on their knees, and both of their heads blown off by Peacekeeper pistols. 

Ares had been restrained by Peacekeepers while it was happening. He could still hear his sisters screaming and pleading to them. His mother, of course, was eerily quiet. He couldn’t remember if she cried or not. Maybe she did. He had been sedated shortly after witnessing the death of his older sister – the one that he admired the most, who helped raise him when his mother couldn’t find it within her to do it herself, the girl who taught him what little compassion he could have in spite of it all.

All of that died with her in the pool of blood in front of the Justice Building. 

Ares had spent a week in the mountains after an argument with his mother, her words still ringing in his ears: “She died because of you, Ares. She feared you would become one of the Capitol’s blind followers and be used like the rest of them. She died for a reason, son, and you need to accept that you had a hand to play in it.”

It was his fault his sister died. His mother said so, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t cut ties with her out of anger. He held her at arm’s length, making sure she wasn’t privy to his life any longer. Ares struggled long and hard over the last couple months since Seraphina’s murder, including when he got his first gold envelope from a client. They were taking every good thing he ever had in his life and turning it into a nightmare. 

The only thing they couldn’t turn into a nightmare was booze, so he drank as much as he could before he walked into the Victor Ball for the girl from Nine, a fresh new beard that he couldn’t be bothered to shave. The only reason it looked alright was because his stylist had managed to get a hold of him before coming here. Instead of mingling with anybody, he ignored anybody who attempted to speak with him as soon as he walked in, went to the open bar, sat on a stool, and continued drinking. He slammed down a glass of whiskey before he ordered another, a shadow looming at his left as they slid one over. 

“If you touch me, I’m breaking all of your fingers,” Ares threatened, his tone dry as he slammed down the second glass.

Holiday flinched visibly as the victor slammed his glass down on the counter, the sound startling her.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” she told the bartender, forcing her voice to remain steady as she took her place beside Ares. She straightened her back, levelled her shoulders, and tried to make like she wasn’t slightly terrified of the man beside her.

“I’m a stylist, dear. I rather need my fingers.” Otherwise she would have to try learning how to sew with a needle between her toes, which did not sound appealing to her at all. “I shall try not to touch you, but I would rather you broke my leg or something instead should it come to that. What do you think?” She turned her head slightly towards him, looking up at him from the corner of her eye.

[holiday-truehart]

lael-lu‌:

Drowned. 

Lael supposed she should be happy that her boy had made it this far. And perhaps she could admit to herself that she’d just gotten complacent after last year. After all, this was her first time losing a tribute since Ayden fell in last year’s bloodbath. It had been over a year, and Lael needed to pull out that old template she had used in years past for the letters home to families. 

“Dear Mr and/or Ms/Mrs. *tribute name*, *Tribute* was an *adjective* kid who we all loved getting to know, and *insert details here*, etc, etc, etc”

“I hate this,” she muttered to herself, typing onto her laptop. Lael had figured that if she could put it together in a public place, it would be better, but nothing seemed to help for the time being. 

She glance up to see a person near her. 

“Save me. Please,” Lael moaned when the person turned their head towards her. // @ttwstarters

Thanks to Thalia’s advice, Holiday had managed to get Farm and Strawberry dressed and looking their best before they were sent back home to Eleven. She was still a bit upset, and she’d had a few nightmares about dead bodies since seeing them, but it was getting easier. Hopefully 79 would be easier still.

She was looking through the menu for one of the cafes in the Tower, torn between ordering a mocha latte or a cup of strawberry tea, when she heard someone mumble something to her right.

“I have no idea what you’re doing, but that voice tells me you could use a break,” she advised. “Come grab lunch with me? I’m Holiday.”

[holiday-truehart]

cashmerelepointe‌:

Cashmere had to laugh a little. “Tell that to my stylist and we’ll both be happy.” Not that she was complaining, because District One typically had great stylists and choices. If worse came to worse, Cashmere knew she could talk to Thalia and everything would be fixed. Not that she wanted to only bug her friends for fashion help or advice, but it was nice to have that option if she was in a pinch.

“So, have any plans for the rest of the year?” Cashmere asked curious. Neither of them were going to be going on a Victory Tour, so that was out. Cashmere would be required to show up at the party welcoming whoever the new Victor was, but that was one night. District One was always sure to throw the best party other than in the Capitol. It was a pride thing. “I might like to try this with some of the kids back in my District, do you think it would work?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said quickly. “Your stylist still scares me a little.” It took a lot of drive to work up to the position of stylist for District One, which Holiday admired. She was still hung up on her days in training, however, and was wary of anyone who had yelled at her during that time.

“Thalia said I could talk to her, maybe even design something for her company. So that’s a possibility.” She was struggling to keep the excitement from her voice. The opportunity to work for the Thalia Ohayon was more than she had dared to hope for this early in her career.

Holiday laughed. “I think it depends on the kids. If you catch them when they’re still little, then maybe. I don’t know how the would-be careers would take it though.”

[holiday-truehart]

cashmerelepointe‌:

“Well, I do come from District One so I’m partial to sparkles.” Cashmere joked but it was the truth. Diamonds had always been her favorite gem to adore her jewelry with. The plus side of diamonds? They came in every color and never went out of style. “Though the accessories should never out shine the person, right?”

Cashmere looked at the kid a moment. “I can take a six year old cover in peanut butter and jelly,” she told Holiday with a laugh. “It’s nice though that they can sit and make macaroni bracelets, you know?” It was why she loved these charity events. It got her mind off the games and allowed some kids to be kids.

“I don’t think I ever made a bracelet like this until I started doing events like this, is that sad?” Training had always been her life and once she won, there was no need for macaroni bracelets.

“It would be hard to dress you in something that outshines your natural features,” Holiday told her seriously. It was her job to look at people and try to picture them in their most flattering colours and styles. “I’m not sure pearls would work with your complexion, but diamonds? I don’t think you could wear too many if you tried.”

Holiday blew softly at the glitter-glue on her wrist while Cashmere spoke, waiting until she was sure that it was dry before reaching for a pot of macaroni tubes and pulling it across the table towards them. “It’s not sad,” she assured her. “I didn’t make my first one until I was... sixteen, I think? One of our avoxes suggested it.” Her parents had bought a nanny to take care of her during her teenage years so that they could continue to work, but she didn’t want to say that for fear of sounding childish.

[holiday-truehart]

cashmerelepointe‌:

“You just need a fresh coat of paint,” Cashmere told Holiday with a laugh. It was hard to make a macaroni bracelet look like anything else, but it was fun to try. They were both used to the finest Capitol money could buy, but this was fun too. The kids seemed to be enjoying it at least.

“Who knows, you might end up using these in your designs next games.” Cashmere joked, but you never knew with stylists. Some years she wondered what they had been thinking or on when they designed their stuff. Thankfully, Holiday wasn’t one of them. “I think mine needs a few diamonds, what do you think? But glitter will have to suffice.”

“I think I might actually use some of this if I ever have a to dress a tiny tribute,” she mused. “If I let them make themselves a bracelet, maybe it’ll take their mind off of the Games?” She looked to Cashmere for confirmation. Thankfully Holiday hadn’t had a twelve year old tribute pass through Eleven since she joined the team, but that could easily change. She’d only been styling for a year.

“There has got to be a pot of rhinestones somewhere,” she insisted. “Or at least some sequins. You are going to have the sparkliest macaroni bracelet in the Capitol, I’ll make sure of it.” 

She scanned the room, eyes fixing on a shaker of rainbow glitter in the hands of an excited little girl. “I found the glitter,” she said quietly, “but you might have to fight a little kid for it.”

[holiday-truehart]

cashmerelepointe‌:

Just like that, District One was left without a tribute in contention for the title of Victor, again. Cashmere was disappointed, but it wasn’t unexpected. Ashanti had been promising and she had hoped it would work out for her. District One hadn’t been so lucky and this was just another example of that. Next year was another year she supposed.

Instead, she found herself preparing for something else, charity work. Cashmere didn’t know how poor Capitol kids could be, but she was happy to have something else to focus on for a while. The Capitol had provided them plenty of string, macaroni, and various paints and other craft supplies.

“I don’t think I’ve owned a macaroni bracelet in forever,” Cashmere told Holiday with a laugh as she stopped beside. “Do you think they have glitter paint?”

@holiday-truehart​

The children in this school were a bit young to remember Holiday’s work as an actress, although a few recognised her from her rom-com that was released a few years back. Most, though, seemed disappointed that she wasn’t some kind of victor until she offered to show them how to draw neat love-hearts on the backs of their hands with glitter-glue. 

“I’m sure there must be some somewhere,” she said, adding the finishing touches to a pink heart on the back of one little girl’s hand and smiling as she ran off to show her friends. 

“Your bracelet is looking much nicer than mine,” she added, holding up a length of plain string. “I got distracted.”