#stillatwin

[prettyasaprosie]

@stillatwin Maysilee asked: “Yeah, well, we all got our little problems today don't we?"

Prosie had learned quickly that most of the Tributes would be unwilling to converse with her and her fellow Prep Team members. She knew it was hard on them, having to compete in these games with a high chance they would never return home, but the young woman was also aware that certain things just couldn't be changed. Besides, without the games, there would be chaos, famine, and poverty. These children, who might have simplyfaded into the background of history, would at least be remembered as more than just backwoods bumpkins. They would be part of Panem culture forever

When the older girl from 12 stepped into her area with flowing blonde locks, an impeccably tailored dress, and rows of necklaces, the magenta- haired girl was delightfully surprised. This was not what she had prepared herself for at all, nor for the scolding she would receive when she decided to try tomake conversation as she manicured her dainty hands, again shocked to see her nails nearly perfect. She certainly was pretty enough to be Capital, if it hadn't been for the fact she screamed District by the simplicity of her wear .

"See? We aren't so different after all. You have your jitters about the games, and I have mine about whether or not your stylist will actually show up." Magno was nowhere to be seen, Drusilla refusing to do a wellness check on her "ex" husband. "It would be such a shame not to have you shining out in that chariot... I mean... coal shines... right?"

[prettyasaprosie]

@stillatwin -maysilee donner "personally, i think she's filthy, rude and a complete scoundrel. i don't like her one bit."

It was hard to suppress her giggle as she brushed out the tangles in the girls beautiful blonde hair. It was almost the same length and color her and her big sister had worn so many years ago, before the glitz and glamor of the capital had grabbed hold of the pair. Now, marching pink buns graces the side of her head, glitter gracing the light ginger colored middle part. Drusilla was a lot to take, both physically and mentally. Her husband, even more of a chaotic mess of a human, years of experience giving the pair a sense that they was better than all despite having the worst track record of victors.

“I will deny if anyone ever asks, but even I find her….unpalatable.” The woman stated softly, beginning to work a series of braids into the golden locks. Prosie had no reason to lie, not when this poor dear would probably be dead in a few days. She was warned to not get attached, that it would only make the job undoable, and so she tried to treat the girl like a doll, one to makeup and then forget about when out of sight. “Now. I’m thinking a braid crown!”