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Post by Farathil Liadon on Mar 23, 2020 13:31:16 GMT -6
As the tributes file into the great banquet hall, they are swarmed by cameras and interviewers trying to get soundbites from each of the Hunger Games All-Stars. You're starving and there are so many amazing looking dishes, but you'll have a tough time getting through to the buffet tables without answering a few overly personal questions from the equally ravenous reporters.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2020 14:53:06 GMT -6
Carac lowered his gaze and walked with purpose as he made for the banquet. Being the first and moving swiftly he thought he may have caught the reporters by surprise but they quickly caught up and cornered him.
A myriad of voices carried through a crowd that was hidden from Carac behind flashes of cameras and dazzling lights.
Reporter(s): Carac! How are you feeling as a second-time tribute?....What do you think your chances are?....Carac, what is your strategy considering you lost a hand in your last games?"
Carac knew the question would come up but figured he'd at least get to eat first. He came to a halt and turned to the direction of the question.
Carac: "I haven't let my impairment slow me down yet and now would be a horrible time to start. That's my strategy" Carac became disoriented as the flashes continued. He raised his left arm to shield his eyes as he used his right hand to try and clear a path in front of him. The flashes only quickened in pace. "Please let me through!"
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Post by Astraea Aurelius on Mar 24, 2020 20:03:12 GMT -6
Astraea sighed. She hated this part.
C'mon Astra. Put on a pretty smile. Act confident.
She kept making mental notes to herself as she moved through the crowd of shouting reporters and disorienting camera flashes, trying to keep an ear out for a good question to answer.
"How do you feel about going into the Hunger Games for a second time?" "What has changed about your training?" "What do you think your chances are?"
Astraea grinned and turned to answer the question about her training when she heard a loud, "What do your children think about you entering the Games again?"
She felt the smile fall from her face and her blood run cold. She turned to the offending reporter, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and snarled, "Keep my children out of this." She shoved him into the crowd of furiously snapping cameras and stalked to the table. Well, that could have gone better.
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Post by Qadyn Von Ho on Mar 25, 2020 6:51:43 GMT -6
Qadyn made his way across the red carpet leading to the banquet hall, stopping to pose in his pink suit for each photographer. He'd noticed a few other victor-tributes pass by already while he posed. He took his time, milking the cameras but managing to avoid actually answering any questions.
One reporter asked, "Qadyn! What's it like to be back!?"
He threw a hand to his chest. "Oh. My. Gawd. Is that one of my mother's designs?" He took the reporter's hand in his as she blushed. "Ugh. Did you KNOW I convinced her to do that neckline? So elegant. Yasss. Werk, girl." He snapped his fingers.
The next in line thrusted a mic in his face. "Tell us: have you kept up with your combat training? You were pure perfection in your last game! Will you give us a preview?!"
"Combat in this suit? Dahling, you must be joking," and he kissed the reporter's cheek with a wink.
After dodging about five more questions, the final reporter looked very familiar to Qadyn. "But what do you have to lose? People are coming into this thing leaving families, children, behind. Are you even seeing anyone? What about your family? What do you have to lose, Qadyn?"
Qadyn's jaw tensed, but he turned it into a smirk. "Oh I'm simply famished. Do excuse me, I believe there's some very expensive liquor inside calling my name." He strutted his way inside.
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Post by Nikolaii Petrov on Mar 25, 2020 13:46:23 GMT -6
Nikolaii loves the buffet. With his eyes down, he successfully ignored several questions while piling several pounds of roast on his platter. The bravest of the reporters stepped right in his path, "Nikoloii, what is the secret to winning?"
Seemingly upset that his meal plan was interrupted, he replied with an emotionless stare, "My Dear Friend, it's simple. Listen to your favorite Tchaikovsky, and wait for the conductor to tell you who is next to die. What was your name again?"
The reporter quickly jotted the words of Nikloaii and backed away without a reply.
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Post by Nilla Nightsand on Mar 25, 2020 14:28:12 GMT -6
Nilla would have loved to have snuck in through some sort of backdoor considering the mood returning to the arena once again put her in but she knew that even if she could her channel’s sponsors wouldn’t be happy unless she milked the spotlight. Her attire was simple and comfortable, dark jeans and a game studio adorned teeshirt with a jean jacket thrown over it. She had discovered early on that if you wanted to connect with fans you couldn’t dress like you were out of their league. As she stared out the window of the hired limo she took a deep breath. She honestly would have been much happier driving her own car but appearances were everything when your livelihood depended on your persona.
Stepping out of the car Nilla was swarmed by media who seemed as bloodthirsty as ever. She adjusted the pin stuck to her jean jacket that advertised the brand of keyboard she used and did her best to single out questions that would be on brand for her to answer.
Nilla! Nilla, will you be streaming this game to your channel directly like you did last time?
The red haired tribute flashed the reporter her best mischievous grin, “I wouldn’t want to deprive my fans of the experience would I? Last time my viewers had a blast and this year won’t be any different! I’ve even streamlined the voting system so they can use channel currency instead of straight monetary donations!”
“Keep smiling...keep talking...you deserve this...i t s h o u l d h a v e b e e n y o u . . .”
She shook her head to drown the voices out but they were never really gone.
NillaNight, what do you think your chances are this year? Do you really think your gaming skills will afford you any benefits?
She made sure that the logo on her shirt was in full view of the reporter’s camera before answering. A girl’s gotta milk those sponsorships right? “As much as people like to write off gaming as a lazy hobby it really builds your reaction time and in the arena being able to make a move before your opponents is a matter of life and death.” Trying to remain on brand she winked at the reporter, “and in the Hunger Games there isn’t any respawning”
She had almost made it out of the sea of reporters but it wouldn’t hurt to answer one more question would it? Spinning on her heels she faced outwards to the throng of reporters looking for another question to answer.
“Miss Nightsand, do you think you’ll have any trouble endearing yourself to the other tributes after what happened to Silv-”
Before the reporter could even finish his question she cut him off doing all she could not to let the smile on her face turn sour, “No more questions. I have tributes to meet and alliances to forge. I wouldn’t want to bore my fans...I’m sure they want me to get to the Hunger Games proper!”
As she turned away from the reporter her eyes turned cold and her breath became shallow.
“...you deserve this”
Nilla took one deep breath, straightened out her posture and marched into the feast. Hopefully the tributes wouldn’t be as bad as the paparazzi...
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Post by Minnie Derva on Mar 25, 2020 16:04:22 GMT -6
Minnie looked ahead with cold eyes as she emerged into the thicket of reporters, cameras, and party goers. They turned toward her, and their eyes locked on to her in a way she was familiar with; a predatory gaze. Several began shoving their way toward her at once and she could practically see the spittle flying from the corners of their mouths as they barked questions all at once.
She had been shoved haphazardly into something more befitting a returning victor to the arena, however it did nothing to change her demeanor. She pushed past them with a grunt as she made her way toward the buffet table. She heard a few questions pop off as she muscled her way in "How many do you think you'll kill this time?" "Will you repeat the events of your year?" Minnie stops moving, the reporters continue on; "Will you be going by your moniker, Piranha?"
She is now surrounded, everyone around her is taller than she is, and they have formed a ring. She sighs and answers calmly to each question in order; "I dunno, probably the same as before. If I can repeat yes I will, I won last time right? As for my nickname, yeah call me what you want, it's all the same to me" She shouldered her way through as if to emphasize her disinterest in answering more questions and came to stop before the buffet.
There was a great assortment of food, and a large portion of it was from her own district. She grabbed what looked familiar and made away with it, shooting dark glances at any reporters who dared come near her while she had her meal.
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Mox Velez
Tribute
Posts: 29
District: 8
Vote Power: 3
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Post by Mox Velez on Mar 26, 2020 11:06:14 GMT -6
Mox strutted into the banquet hall as if it were a runway. Her rose gold ball gown appeared stiff yet light on her frame. Getting the photographers attention, she came to a dead stop and posed. The seams her dress began to shimmer as waves of LED light patterns washed over the fabric. Then the questions came.
"Ms. Velez, are you worried about the more physical aspects this game might bri-," but before the reporter could finish she come him off.
"Because I am a woman or because of my age? I've been hearing the same old critiques from decades now my love and I've grown tired of them. Does anyone have a real question for me?" she prodded.
A voice came from the back. "Can you speak to the claims that this is just a publicity stunt for your failing clothing line?"
"What a salacious comment," Mox replied, a smirk began to grow across her face. "Clearly your sources are dull and inept. I would suggest that you do some real reporting. However, I must admit that I am very excited to meet Qaydn. That young man has great vision and shows some true promise for our industry," she laughed. Before another question could be asked she snapped around and headed towards the buffet.
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Post by Huck Matteos on Mar 26, 2020 11:53:17 GMT -6
For Huck, the waiting was the hardest part. Other tributes were being bombarded with questions, photos and requests from the reporter as they went inside; and Huck wanted a few more quiet moments before the storm engulfed him. The gleaming white monorail's soft seats were going to be a stark contrast to the dirt floors and rocks the arena would offer. He leaned against the luxurious padding of the door, pressed his forehead to the glass and sighed.
'You know how this works, Huck. You've seen this every year with the other District 5 tributes you mentored.' He thought.
'First impressions with tributes win days. First impressions with the crowds win Games. Just focus on being confident and layout how you'll-'
The remaining doors of the monorail popped open, dumping Huck unceremoniously to the intricately tiled walkway leading to the Feast.
"SONOFAFUCK!" He yelled, scrambling to his feet. The reporters had all turned, mouths agape, recognition dawning on their faces. Huck braced himself at their approach and tried to make sense of their shouted questions.
"It's Huck Matteos, Dictrict 5's tribute for the- How will you use the arena this year with the rumored upgraded- Do you have anything to say regarding your mother's recent- Will you be using this chance to honor the District 5 tributes who- What do you say to skeptics who have you further down the projected rankings?"
All thought had fled from Huck's mind as he forced his legs forward, brushing off the questions and struggling to think of a statement. Reaching the Feast's entrance, he turned to the crowd.
"I am a..." His voice trailed off. His stomach churned. "I am a hungry man. Hungry to win. Hungry to, um, prove myself! And hungry to... Do I smell pheasant and quince?" Huck turned back into the sanctuary of the Feast hall. Behind him, he heard the reporters muttering.
"Yeah, let's just run with the 'Sonofafuck' line."
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Post by Olivier L'angel on Mar 26, 2020 15:56:08 GMT -6
Okay, so, just take a deep breath... time to step into it again, putting on the mask of Olly-doll "Olivieeeey" as he is known to the capitol and those watching the games, this persona that he has had to pull out every year since he won 9 years ago... Yes he was only 16 when he won and the persona was more of a protection than anything else but, now he is stuck with it, at least for the coming weeks...
Olly braces himself and steps out on to the red carpet with his gleaming, newly bleached, white teeth shining, green sequine dress squeezing all the right places and the beard sharp, trimmed and blinged out with little black diamonds as a subtle reference to his coal-mining district.
Faking eagerness and excitement he answers all the questions the reporters throw at him, smiling through all of them and eventually making his way to the other end and in to the banquet.
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Post by Peach Blossom on Mar 26, 2020 20:53:30 GMT -6
Peach had managed to sneak past the media on her way it to gather some much needed nourishment, and was hoping to do so for the rest of the night. After finishing her meal however, she acknowledged the camera and a cluster of reporters took the opportunity to pounce. The questions were obvious, and ones that she knew were coming.
A round faced man, asked the first questions, "Ms. Blossom, do you expect to receive as much support from sponsors this time around? Was your late grandfather your saving grace before?" He was interrupted by a sharp looking woman, who jabbed a microphone closer, asking with a venomous tone "A recent poll in your hometown put your odds as worse than almost all other tributes, what do you make of that?"
Peach bowed low, hiding her face for just a moment as she took in the insults and prepared herself to answer. "I was extraordinarily fortunate for my sponsors support during my first game, there is no doubt in my mind that if I hadn't received it I would have not made it to the end. Who the sponsor was is irrelevant, I knew exactly how to use those tools for my advantage." Peach did not appreciate the woman's tone or her question and flipped it back on her, "Have you ever used a landmine?" Peach watched as the wind left her sails, and slinked to the back row where she belonged.
That satchel full of support was the only thing that had kept her alive, and she felt confident that not everyone could have placed the landmine safely and in a spot where she could hit two of the dominant tributes at once. Peach took solace in the fact that she was alive, and confidently stepped towards the bartenders where she was ready to whet her tongue for an evening of conversation and connection.
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