#p:kendall

[its-perrie-bitch]

'Cause down under we don't take no prisoners. || Kenrie

Perrie pose son mannequin au sol, dans la salle réservée aux mannequins, et se recule pour regarder son moulage. Elle déteste ce genre d'épreuves qui durent toute la journée et mette ses nerfs à rude épreuve, surtout lorsqu'elle sait qu'il y a un soucis du côté de Kendall et n'arrive pas à mettre le doigt dessus. En tout cas, Perrie retourne rapidement dans sa salle de cours pour attraper son sac, y fourrer sa trousse et trouver une cigarette dans sa pochette. Elle est en une minute dehors, à allumer sa cigarette, ses cheveux encore retenus dans une queue de cheval et sa pelote à épingles toujours autour du poignet. Un soupir passe ses lèvres lorsqu'elle arrive devant les grilles mais, lorsqu'elle aperçoit Kendall plus loin, elle sent la tension se relâcher un peu. Elle arrive près de la brune et passe un bras autour de sa taille avant de la plaquer contre elle. "J'ai entendu parler de pizzas ce soir et dis-moi que tu as ce café."

[tatianaowel]

Real Training | Kendall & Tatiana

Throughout the week she had kept mostly to herself, not exerting her talents in any way or another, while still maintaining the façade of a cocky career that all Capitol citizens loved. In front of the cameras she was nothing less than an ideal bet, handy with knives, clubs, combat, and basic archery as all students of the academies were taught to be, with the trained smile she had used to perfection under her mentors' guidance. It was away from the cameras where she really needed to train, away from the other tributes, and away from the Gamemakers. Down here, in the Training Centre, illuminated by emergency lighting alone, was where she could really put her back into it.

She was grateful, then, for the company. At 9 on the dot Kendall arrived; they exchanged nods, disguising excitement with small smiles, and went to armour themselves. Tatiana had to admit that she'd always wanted to pit herself, in careful conditions, against careers from another district, to learn their... flavour. She wouldn't mind returning the favour either. "I know it's a bit of a drag, but I don't fancy explaining to the others why I've got bruises all over. Let's say, hand to hand, off the face? We've got to stay pretty."

[haydenmacmillan]

Catching Waves | The Maldives | Hayden and Kendall

Paradise was, in Hayden's humble opinion, entirely subjective. He had never been particularly spiritual growing up - media was, after all, the devil's artform - but he imagined that if a Heaven existed after you croaked it, it would be tailor made to each individual's preference. Nevertheless, he couldn't imagine that anyone would disagree with the word being used to describe the Maldive Islands. The raw natural beauty was astounding; vivid, aquamarine oceans, glittering, crystal sand. It was easy to see why many wanted to come, and the few that could afford to never wanted to leave.

The people who were lucky enough to be regular visitors often belonged to an elite group of blue blood, high socialite circles and filthy, dirty money. The next generation of this lineage were the kids that Hayden had known all his life, and it was his own background, even. He'd been born into this lifestyle, and although he had been earning his keep from a very young age, he'd always felt like Jack Dawson at the dinner table. 

Still, it was a life he had grown accustomed to, despite how ill fitting he may have felt he was at times. The modelling world was and would always be his true calling, his definitive home - everything else was simply a perk, and trips like these happened to be among the best of them. He'd been soaking up the Indian sun when he'd ran into Kendall and suggested her joining him for a swim. Fifteen minutes later, he now sat on the sand again, knees up and elbows balanced on them, waiting for her to return.