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Vittorio Delegarce

"Even if the Capitol thinks they can crush us, we'll rise from the ashes."

0 · 436 views · located in Panem

a character in “The 70th Annual Hunger Games”, as played by Adantas

Description

Vittorio Degalarce

Image

Our passion are the true phoenixes; when the old one is burnt out, a new one rises from its ashes.

The Basics

District:8
Full Name: Vittorio Delegarce
Age: 17
Birthdate: May 23rd 53 A.D.D
Gender: Male

Height: 183cm
Weight:80kg

Personality The first thing anyone would notice about Vit would be that he has that far away gaze in his eye. Someone who prefers his own company then that of others. Of course, if you were to ever oppose him or make a remark, he isn't afraid to stand his ground and tell you how wrong you are. Quick witted, mysterious and aloof, Vit when he cared to think about it relished in the rumours that surrounded him. He didn't crave the company of others as most people his age did, he was happy to discuss the mysteries of the world within his own mind. Labelled as a bit of a crackpot, he actually liked to play the image of the crazy and wouldn't be afraid of suddenly butting into a conversation. The idea of brutally murdering someone doesn't appeal to him, of course when push comes to shove he would come back kicking and scratching but in most cases he would rather talk or outsmart his way out of a situation. Anything that would show the Capitol or the Careers would be good enough for him.

Favorites
Color: Black
Food: Rice
Drink: Water
Hobby: Sewing


History Growing up in district 8 meant nothing. He had no knowledge of the what the other districts where like so how could he compare, but that didn't stop young Vittorio from wishing that he was somewhere else. When he was little he was as happy as someone could be living in near poverty conditions. His mother was a seamstress and would be work at all hours of the day fixing up Peace Keepers uniforms and nearly everyone else's clothes in the village. She was the most talented around and when she did get free time she would spend it embroidery with her young son. He loved those times with her and did everything he could to receive one of her rewarding smiles. He was a quick study and fast became as skilled as his mother in sewing and was able to help with the work load. Times where well for the moment, until his mother got sick. She was dying and there was nothing anyone could do. The last thing she embroided was a crude phoenix on a piece of black material. She told him that whatever happened, never to give up, rise from the ashes and grow strong. His father couldn't handle the grief so he resorted to drinking and violence against his son. He would go out to work at one of the factories and then spent most of the afternoon at the pub where he spent all his earnings. When he returned just by nightfall he was usually so pissed that he would come storming in and take his emotional pain out on his son. As Vit grew older, he picked up work where he could, trying to mend clothes but since his mothers death the Peace Keepers hadn't been sending their clothes to their house any more for repairs. Times where hard. Vit withdrew into himself, seeking comfort through solitude and some old books that an elderly man was selling. There were only about ten small books but they were so intriguing that Vit had to have them, so in exchanged he offered to mend the mans clothes and fix his house. Unfortunately, when he came home he was unable to escape his fathers wrath. One night, when he was about 12, in defence he lashed out and struck a certain point on his fathers leg and instantly the man was no longer able to stand, let alone kick and crashed to the floor unable to get up. From then on he worked on finding other pressure points on the body. He was able to master skills relatively quickly and soon he grew bored, eager to learn more. He would regularly visit the old man and it was there that he discovered the technique to effectively throw a knife. The old man was a mysterious character and often told Vit strange things, but he relished them all the same. Now at 17 he was a solitary young man and he wasn't bothered with having friends his own age. Standing among many on the day of the reaping, he escaped into his own mind, to pass the moments of hearing which unfortunate child would be sent to their death. He hated the Capitol for what it did and the injust that it caused. If he ever was given the chance he would rally against it and fight for justice and freedom even at the expense of his own life. He would often be caught up in these types of thoughts so when the male tribute was called up he didn't even register his name. Someone pushed him from behind and he was about to retort back when a Peace Keeper pulled him up. Never in a million years had he imagined being a piece in the Capitols game. But he was more determined then ever to stick it in their faces.

Code: The boy with the bread


Preferred weapon/ Skills: He hasn't exactly used a weapon before but he's apt at throwing knives, crafting and is incredibly flexible.

Likes:
- Sewing because it was something him and his mother would do together.
- He loves reading because it was a way he could escape and it was how he began to think beyond the obvious.
- Peace and quiet as it gives him a chance to think and contemplate the world.
- Using his hands, he knows all the pressure points of the body and is able to weave and craft pretty much anything.
- Asking questions because this is the way you gain knowledge and he as an insatiable thirst for knowledge.

Dislikes:
- He hates cocky, arrogant people and prefers to tell them where they can stick their attitude then simply putting up with them.
- The Capitol, and all the more benefited districts because he deems them unjust.
- His father as he was abusive and cruel
- The night because he associates this with the terror from the beatings his father gave him and his mother
- Anyone that tells him that he's wrong.

Other: A charred piece of material with a crude embroidered phoenix - Image

Writing Sample: It would be gone soon. Fading from sight in a matter of minutes and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He hated this irrational fear, but it was difficult to tell your heart to stop fearing something that couldn't be conquered. The beating of his heart quickened as the last glimpses of light started to disappear. A lump formed in his throat making it difficult to breath. Short sharp breaths, in and out, in and out. The sun finally vanished altogether and night took it's place. All Vittorio wanted to do was scream for it to come back, return it's light so he wouldn't be so afraid, so that he could see his demons. But it would make no difference, the young boy was swamped by blackness, the small oil lamps giving no relief from the overwhelming feeling. It wouldn't be long before his father returned home, drunk and angry. There was no point locking the door, the terrifying man would simply knock it down in his fury. He wished he could escape, how desperately he wanted to, but where would he go? How would he survive? He remembered his mothers words and vowed that he would be strong, when his father knocked him down he would rise from the ashes. But he couldn't say the same about the night. The ability to rid him of sight was terrifying enough and he hated not being able to control his fear. Still staring out of his bedroom window he moved away to lie on his bed. He curled into a small ball, the hard mattress pressing into his side. Closing his eyes did no good, it only heightened the sounds around him. Every creak, every snap that reverberated through the house sent a wave of terror through him. The only thing that kept him going insane from fear was the small, slightly burnt piece of material that his mother had given him. In rapid motions he rubbed the familiar material between his fingers, pulling it close to his face so that he could smell the familiar smell. How he wished his mother hadn't gone.

So begins...

Vittorio Delegarce's Story

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Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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Avalon Shire

Avalon Shire curled her fingertips along the thick rope. A slight rain had fallen, but nothing major. It worried her why so many of the citizens were so sorrowful. Oh yes, the reaping. Her bare feet pushed off of the soft dirt, turning her through a circular motion on her small swing. This was the only place where she could think. The only place where she could think in peace. It was dawn, but many people were awake. Probably because of the usual working hours. A frail woman passed Avalon, she had many wrinkles and pain in her eyes. Her small hands seemed to be carrying a pale of water. Avalon seemed to take the liking of studying others, she pondered what their life was like. Her gentle eyelids shut as the pitter patter of rain surrounded her. It was calm on this morning. Usually, District 8 was bustling with sewing or work, but not on the reaping. Everyone in the district could write a whole book on, "The Art of Needle and Thread". "All good things must come to an end..." She thought, to herself. Her eyes opened to take the view of branches above her. They looked as if they were reaching out towards something. Her elbows met the rope as she pulled herself through, standing away from the wooden swing. The tree looked broken. Maybe dead, and about to crumble. Avalon looked away quickly as her feet traveled downward onto the hill that held the dead tree.

"No work today?" This man leaned against a crippled chair as the door shut behind Avalon. She looked at him, stubbled white hair crowded his chin as small wrinkles fell over his face. A worn plad shirt showed his rough skin and his hair was becoming bald. His dark eyes looked clouded, looking like he had been crying. This happened to be her father. She jumped at his statement, she was used to the silence this morning. Her eyes studied the familiar room. Ripped wallpaper, broken floor boards, a dirty table, broken chairs, and a small fireplace with a simple mantle that held old pictures. She replied quietly,

"Father, it's the reaping. No one works." Avalon bit her lip. It was hard to talk to this man. He was the one person she couldn't stand, but loved the most. Her finger tapped against her worn, dark pants. Her thoughts turned back to the reaping. She couldn't stand the Captiol either, or their horrific games. It was all just a simple trap along with revenge. Though confident, Avalon was always nervous. She tried to stay away from tessera, but you would never know if you had a higher risk or not. Of course she would take part in a revolution, who wouldn't? But the thought of even speaking against the Capitol was unberable, you would be killed in and instant. Her father spoke,

"You won't leave me Av, ok?" Avalon's head shot up. It was strange when he said words of love. She nodded in return. "Her dress in upstairs, it will probably fit you now." He murmured. Her eyes widened. Her father hated talking about her mother. Avalon couldn't blame him, she despised it too. The woman who had given birth to her quickly died after bringing her into this world. This, caused her father to spiral into a world of depression and alcohol. Thankfully, he recovered. Avalon still checked his room every now and then for signs of that awful substance. It shocked her that she would be wearing her mother's dress, sometimes she wondered if he did recover from his depression. She nodded again slightly and began to head towards the petite set of stairs.

Her room was simple. A small yellow bed to her left with a broken table to her right that held clothes. She didn't care for any decoration, she didn't need much. The plain brown dress beckoned her towards her bed. A belt sat high under her chest that tied in to a drooping bow in the back. The sleeves ended at her elbows and her dark brown hair was tied into a full bun. Her fingertips met the silver locket that hung from her neck, it was her mother's. Outside of the window frame, many children were heading towards the Justice Building from their small houses.

"All good things must come to an end."

_______________________________________________________________

The slight prick of her finger made her jump. Her eyes met the peacekeeper who was taking her blood to place her in the reaping. The woman's eyes were cold and dark. Something explained to Avalon that she didn't want to be here. She couldn't blame her.

"Move along..." Her dull voice echoed. Avalon narrowed her eyes towards the Justice Building, many children gathered around the entry. They were all shaking like they were frozen, she alone began to shake herself even though the sun filled the district with warmth. The woman glared at her as a sign to move forward. Her short steps began to stride towards the section of her age. Many familiar faces appeared, but none to take refuge with. Her fingers clasped together as the slight breeze encircled her. The rise and fall of her chest was beginning to quicked.

"Welcome, everyone!" Avalon jumped a bit as her eyes met the colorful woman walking along the stage. A yellow dress filled with Capitol symbols and markings wrapped around her tight body. She had no hair and was bald, but the top of her head was a soft dyed pinkish color. The woman's eyelashes stood out the most; they were lined with a green shimmer and butterfly wings that rested upon them. Avalon's expression did not change, though she was disgusted in every way. How was this a celebration? Why had it turned into a fun little game? Avalon's fingertips smoothed her long dress as her eyes fluttered to find her father while the escort introduced the silly video they put on every year.

"War. Terrible war..." The audio rang through the area as Avalon tried to block the annoying noise out. Her father stared at her, giving a slight smile of encouragement when she found him amongst the crowd. She looked back to the stage as the dark skinned woman smiled.

"Now!" Her voice boomed through the microphone. "Ladies first!" Avalon bit her lip. It would be another girl, someone who was too poor and asked for tessera many times.

"Avalon Shire!" No, that girl was her. She clenched the edges of her dress while many others backed away from her, as if she was now a disease that could spread. She didn't have any expression, she wouldn't show the screaming anguish inside of her. "D- Dear, come along now." The escort spoke. Avalon wouldn't dare look at her father, she couldn't bare to see the sorrow on his face. He would now have two souls ripped away from him. Avalon would show she was strong, she couldn't become a coward of fear. Her head was held tall as she strided towards the horror that awaited her. She could feel the tears rushing towards her eyelids, but she brushed them away quickly.

"A round of applause, please!" The escort smiled again, grabbing Avalon's arm. Avalon blocked the sound of whispers and simply closed her eyes. It was over. She died. This was the end.

"Vittorio Delegarce!" The woman shouted with a slip of paper in her hands, taking Avalon away from her thoughts. She looked at him, walking up the steps. Avalon had seen him before in the district, she recognized his dark hair and eyes along with other features. She glanced away, she was tired of all the sorrow. He had the same fate as she did, and they didn't deserve it. The woman talked more until they finally shook hands. She met his gaze, looking at the pain across his face. A tough hand grabbed her arm, pulling her inside of the Justice Building. Avalon couldn't process what was going on except,

Our lives are over.

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Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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#, as written by Adantas
The reaping... He was so close to no longer having the risk of being chosen. There was still the chance that he could be picked and that terrified him, but at the same time it gave him another sense that he didn't think would be possible to associate with something so horrific. Zeal. The sheer fact that he could possibly get the chance to do something that would show the Capital and all of it's mutated people that they don't control them. That they don't have the power to stop them from feeling, from creating that hatred of the people that take their children.

It was early morning and Vit was pretty sure that he could wander into the forest and simply not be found again, unfortunately they took that blood sample for a reason and if you didn't turn up they knew about it. Instead, he got dressed, making sure that the small and very thin piece of fabric was secured tightly in the pocket of his button up shirt. He patted it, as if to take some of that calm confidence that his mother had embodied. His father was passed out in his room and likely wouldn't rise till after the reaping or at least till a Peace Keeper came knocking. But Vit didn't care. He thought, rather darkly, that he would prefer if his abusive father was just taken away and... disposed of. He gritted his teeth from the sudden anger that engulfed him simply by thinking of his father. He had to get out of the house.

He had been wandering around the town before it was actually time for the reaping. He had delayed as much as he could but he knew it would do him no favours to be late. It didn't take him long to reach the central area where the reaping was held and as he stood in line, glancing around, he saw with disgust that everyone was dressed in their best. He hated that people were obligated to dress up for the selection of two kids who were going to die.

The shuffling of feet was monotonous and it irked Vit to no end to be amongst so many people, forced to attend an event that would be the death of someone. When it came time to prick his finger, he stared darkly at the man who looked more like a brickheaded warden in a prison than a supposedly peacekeeper. But then again, that's what they were in wasn't it? A prison. The guy grunted and Vit and probably pushed harder then necessary when he pricked his finger. This was his hate day. He hated his father, he hated the peacekeepers but mostly he hated the Capitol. Clenching his fist to stop himself from giving into mindless violence he proceeded to where his age group stood. Standing there under the suns gaze he tilted his head slightly and blocked out all sound. Drowning the stupid Capitol woman's shrill voice with his mantra:

The phoenix rises again.
The phoenix rises again.
The phoenix rises again.


He was beginning to lose himself in good memories of the time with his mother, when his father was actually a stern but proud man. Life before everything worsened. But it wouldn't last for long, as always those thoughts led to how it was the Capitols fault, how they brought this poverty, this weakness to the people. He would give his life to end the Capitol. Yet to unclench his fist a sharp sting was pulsing from his palm as he pressed his nails harder and harder into the soft skin. So strong was his concentration that he failed to register that the reaping had begun and a poor girl had been chosen. Even the ring of the boys name didn't jar him from his reverie. It wasn't until a violent push from behind jolted him to the present. He would have turned around, a torrent of harsh words ready to lash out at anyone, until a peacekeeper had him by the shoulders and was steering him towards the stage.

What was going on?
It couldn't have been his name?
It wasn't possible, out of all the names how could it be his?


But it was. Vittorio Delegarce had been called out. He had imagined that if he had ever been called that he would hold his head up, chin out to defy the Capitol. He would only feel the sheer vehemence of exacting his personal revenge against the Capitol. Instead, it was just a crushing sensation, something that left him utterly deflated and empty. He had been chosen to die. There was no other way of thinking about it and to top it off there was no one who would miss him. His father probably wouldn't even notice him gone and if he did he would be marching around the town screaming that his good for nothing son better return or he'll kill him. And in an ironic way Vit would most likely already be dead.

Another shove from behind and Vit was lifting one heavy foot after another as he ascended the stairs. A lump had formed in his throat and he was finding it difficult to swallow. The outrageous woman was staring at him, a hand outstretched to show him where to stand. It was almost too hard to stop himself from actually growling at her. The colour she wore were too bright and brought upon a fury. To him colours represent the Capitol and for that reason he never allowed himself to where anything other than dull blacks, whites or khaki. The two tributes had been chosen and silence had descended, only to be broken by the woman's shrill voice and a polite applause to keep the peacekeepers happy. A sudden and weighty burden fell on his shoulders causing them to slump. Any effort that he had left to keep a straight face vanished and the pain that he felt was reflected in his features. He had made himself a promise, if ever chosen as a tribute he would not play to the Capitols game, he would defy them in someway. But actually being chosen he had no idea how to achieve that. He was already feeling the disappointment that he no undoubtedly was.

Completely unaware Vit was moving and he found himself shaking hands with the chosen girl. She seemed vaguely familiar and a name popped to his mind.

Avalon

But before any other thoughts could arrive with the name they were taken apart and moved to the justice building. He would be waiting there alone, no one would come for him and soon he would be on a train to the Capitol, the very place that he despised. Anger and hate drove him but the small and crudely stitched phoenix was still there safely in his pocket. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. He imagined his mother, standing there in the room with him tears trickling down her face as she clasped her hands on his cheeks. Her deep brown eyes scanning each aspect of his face. And just before their time was up she would say.

"My sweet Phoenix, don't give up. When beaten simply rise from the ashes."

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Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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Avalon Shire

She just stood there, standing in the middle of the room. Avalon could go ahead and collapse now and fall into a pit of endless slumber, but that would simply not happen. Her fingertips began to tremble as her fragile hands met the supple cushion beneath her. Her wide eyes began to travel around the room, it was small, but comfortabe, it probably belonged to the mayor or one of his assiatants. The red drapes along the window frame reminded her of blood, something she would soon see. Many unique and designed chairs lined the walls as a wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, echoing off of the dim light. It became clear that they were trying to make her last stay at District 8 comfortable. But it wasn't working. Her actions were quick, her head darted when she heard a simple noise, or her foot tapped waiting for what might be the last visit. The sweat of Avalon's palms was noticable as she wiped it across her dress. Avalon was of course, alarmed and doubtful, but she wouldn't show it, she had to stay strong now. The tears were held back while her mouth was gaped open, letting in the blazing air. She couldn't show any emotion, she had learned to hide it over the years, this was the time to put it to the test. So many thoughts filled her mind, but she had to keep her head straight, she didn't have time for thinking like she always seemed to do. Instead, her fingertips met the tarnished locket that lined her neck. The fear suddenly drifted away as she thought of her mother, who would usully keep her calm in times of danger.

But she wasn't here.

"Damn it, let me in!" Avalon's head shot up as she began to hear muffled voices outside of the long wooden doors. Her breath quickened in a tight manor while her fingers gripped onto the chair. It was her father, the one man who could rescue her from this madness. The doors opened with a jolt before the door knob slammed against the delicate walls. She saw him, face reddened with fury and daft hair sprouting in every which way.

"Father..." Avalon let out a quiet whisper. He ran to her as the doors were shut by the guarding peacekeepers. He held her tight, arms wrapped around her back. Her eyelids shut as a tear trickled down her face, she wasn't strong anymore. A quiet sob filled the air as his quick breaths of air rippled through the room. Her fingers clasped the back of his worn shirt as he shook beneath it. "It's ok..." She appeased him. Avalon felt the man before her weaken, as if his soul was being ripped into two. The sorrow in his dark eyes was ripping her apart as well, she would have to become the adult now.

"You're winning this Avalon..." He pulled away from he, taking her shoulders with a tight grasp. "You go straight to the knives-"

"They may not have any knives!" Avalon interrupted him. She let concern spill out of her throat, turning away from him. She couldn't bare to see the tears anymore. Her hand met her lips while her arm was propped against the remaning arm beneath her. She looked out of the antique window as rain began to flutter around the Justice Building, it matched the tears that fell before her.

"You know how to do this." She heard his voice tremble. "You know how to sew wounds, and when I-" He stopped to clear his throat. "When I was lost in my drinking over your mother..." He began to trail off as Avalon turned to him in sorrow, he never talked about the past, they were always in the present. "You hunted, remember? You hunted for our food... When I- I can't believe they are taking you away from me." He looked away, clasping her shoulders again.

Avalon let out a smile, "Papa..." She began, "I will do whatever it takes to return home. I promise." She kissed his aged cheek and met his eyes. "You have to promise me, you won't drink again." Avalon tightened her grasp on him.

"I promise." He looked at the locket that sat below her neck, and took it into his rough hands. "She will protect you-"

"Time is up!" The doors slammed against the pale walls again as the peacekeepers approached him. Avalon was filled with anxiety as she backed into the chair, steading herself. She looked at the men's faces, cold and stern. There is no compassion... Her father's arm was pulled away from her grasp with a quick and powerful notion.

"No! Aval-" His words echoded her mind as the door was shut abruptly. She darted towards the entry as her fist knocked against it, her head meeting her arm.

"I promise."

______________________________________________________________

The familiar faces eyed the car that ran along the dirt road. Avalon's eyes met the window, a deep remorse filled her heart as she saw the pain of District 8. Her district. Her home. A lump filled her throat as her hands ran across the glass. The rain had turned into a pour now, drenching the citizens, just to watch them go. Her palm turned into a fist and quietly banged against the window as her jaw tightened. She was furious, angry at everyone, angry at the Capitol, angry at the escort who was sitting next to her in a ridiculous outfit while she babbled about the Capitol. Her fury filled into the faces the lined the street watched her. Would this be the last time she saw them? Avalon took action, rolling down the window with a simple press of a button. Her affection began to show as the kissed the edges of her three fingertips, pointing them towards the crowd outside of the window. It was a simple sign that showed honor throughout the districts, and it was her time to display it. The heavy air encircled her fingers when she recieved a response. Many citizens kissed their fingertips, jolting them into the air as the car sped slong the rocks. Avalon let out a smile as warmth spread through her heart.

"You're going to let the rain in!" Avalon shook at the sound. The escort pressed the button that closed the window after Avalon placed her fingers to her dress. She looked at the escort, ignoring the comment, then narrowed her eyes and looked away. The crowd still held their fingers in the air, as a serious look rippled through the people. There was no need for words, just actions now. The escort sighed and returned to her babble. Though Avalon didn't know her name, she knew the woman would be abhorrent. Avalon turned her eyes towards Vittorio, who was looking out at the window. She wondered how he felt, had he experienced the pain that filled her chest also?

"We're here!" The cackle of the escort overflowed the car. Vittorio was taken forcefully out of the car along with Avalon, they were in the Capitol's custody now. Avalon looked out at the cluster of people, meeting her eyes. This is it. With that, they were forced into the steel doors of the train, or, as Avalon called it, a fancy prison.

______________________________________________________________

It was nothing she had ever seen before, crystal chandeliers, rows and rows of desserts, velvet sofas, and white tablecloths that were spread across the surfaces. She couldn't help but let her mouth gape open; it was simply beautiful. Avalon wanted to smile, but in the back of her mind she knew, This is all apart of my death.

"Now," The colorful escort chattered, "My name is Monsharia! Oh, I already know your names! Vittorio and Avalon, we welcome you!" She shook our hands with a bright smile, her hands were smooth with a soft touch, probably some Capitol product... "Make yourselves comfortable, why don't I go get your mentor?" Her bubbly walk made Avalon scowl inside, Wasn't this all just a show? She heard Monsharia's heels chomp down through the carpet to travel to the next section of the train. Avalon strided towards the tables, running her fingertips along the soft texture. It reminded her of the fabrics she held at home, but she couldn't think of her district now, it made her sick. The small windows showed scenery of passing trees and mountains. she pictured painting it, but she couldn't at the moment. Avalon sat down in the comfortabe velvet cushion before her and remembered Vittorio standing there. She looked at him, fury in his eyes. He looked as angry as she was, how could this happen to them? She pondered this, and remembered Vittorio in her younger classes, she remembered when the teacher had given a special painting assignment.

"Alright everyone! Today we're going to paint!" The class had cheered, they simply never had gotten to do anything fun except fantasize about living in the Capitol while reading history. Avalon had her father place a bow in her hair that day, so she especially was excited about the evening. The teacher had given specific instructions on painting something they liked, Avalon pondered this and began to paint the forest near their small house. The trees lined the edges of the paper while the sun sat in the background. It was a simple painting, and Avalon thought about giving it to her father as a present. "Would anyone like to share their painting?" The teacher smiled. Avalon's hand shot straight up, but knocked the green paint across the paper and knocked her down to the ground, covered in paint now. Her classmates began to laugh as a tear ran across her face in agony.

"Stop!" She yelled, "It isn't funny!" The class chanted laughter as her hand wiped the tear away, smearing even more paint across her cheek. Suddenly, she saw a hand that raised above her arm. She looked up, seeing Vittorio with a smile. She was pulled up quickly by him. "Thank you..." She murmured. He nodded and looked at her painting, giving another soft expression and returning back to his seat.


Avalon looked away from him, staring back at the window. She actually wanted to talk to him, a see how he was, but there were no need for her words. The heaviness in her heart appeared again.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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-Sorry, it posted twice!

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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#, as written by Adantas
The utter despair that Vit was feeling as they made their way to the vehicle that would escort them to the place that would 'pretty' them up was crushing. The sky had started to cloud over, dark and ominous, fitting to the situation that they were in. More peacekeepers had taken them by the arms and were near dragging them towards the vehicle. His limbs were reluctant to cooperate and so the peacekeeper, interpreting his slow movements for some sort of rebellion, shoved him violently to get him to move faster. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out. A final good shove and they were all in the car. The strange Capitol woman in the middle and Avalon and himself on the window seats. He wanted to just be alone. Alone to actually process what was happening, to think how he was going to fulfil his promise. He wanted to put his head in his hands and just get lost in his mind. But he couldn't do that. He couldn't give in just yet. Keeping his features neutral, he glanced over to Avalon. She had wound down the window and was saying goodbye to the people. The sign she was showing them was stronger than words. It was a powerful message and no matter how horrible and cruel the Capitol got they would never take that away from the people. Of course the Capitol woman was more concerned about the natural forces entering the car rather than what the sign represented. But it didn't matter she had done it and the people would remember her. Vit felt a pang of something, something he couldn't quite discern. But he had to look away from the girl and the only other place to do so was out the window. The people were a sea of solemn faces. Vit didn't give them any sign, he simply stared at them. Eyes glazing over as he didn't want to see their pain.

____________

Inside, the tram was extravagant beyond he could ever imagine. The sheer flourish and divine styling that was in every item in the carriage was sickening. His neutral features took on a scowl. He wouldn't allow himself the comfort of something that represented unjust. He couldn't meet anyone's eye and the more he looked around at the comfort and luxury that they had access to the more his burning anger grew. Then that awful woman started talking again. He turned to her, his gaze full of venom. He saw her flinch slightly, but that smile never faltered. She extended her hand for Vit to shake it, he simply looked at her incredulously. She gave an awkward giggle and then looked to Avalon. She didn't shake her hand for long, probably worried that it would stain her perfect hand. Soon she was off again, chattering that she would go get their mentor. A lot of good that would do. But he was relieved that she was finally gone. Silence engulfed the room and Vit would have enjoyed it if it weren't for where he was, where he was going and who he was with.

Avalon.

The name rung in his ears. There was a memory tied to that name, he frowned in concentration and realised there were actually a few. Avalon was a Shire daughter, the family that his mother would often work with. Vit hadn't been close with the family but he knew of them and Avalon was in the same year as him. He could remember that she had been a sweet natured girl, eager and excitable. She had loved her art and he remembered the special occasions when they could paint in school. But there was a stronger memory that linked the name with the person.

The sun was shining and Vit couldn't understand why. It had been a week since his mother had passed and there was a pain in his heart that he couldn't seem to lift. But it wasn't just inside that was aching but outside as well. It had been the first night that his father had come home and he stunk of alcohol and had a rage about him that terrified the young boy. When the morning came Vit was covered in black and purple spots on his thighs and chest. It was tender to walk and he couldn't understand why this was happening. His father had still been asleep when he awoke and so to escape facing him he went to the woods. Once there he had hidden and unable to contain all the emotion he broke down and cried. A few hours had passed and he finally regained himself. It was then that he began to make his way home, but just at the edge of the forest he caught a group of kids his age playing. They seemed happy enough and he hated that they were happy and he wasn't. Gripping tightly onto a nearby tree he watched them. They seemed oblivious to their onlooker, but one girl seemed to notice. She looked around and their eyes met. She had tilted her head slightly, confused by the pain on his face. She took a step forwards as if to come see him and in that second he ran. He couldn't bear to talk to anyone. He had known it was Avalon, he had helped her when she was down and it seemed she wanted to help him. But it was too painful.

He didn't have the energy left to talk, he hardly had any to stand. As much as he hated everything in the room he was too tired to stand. He sunk down into a nearby armchair and placed his head into his hands.

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Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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Avalon Shire

"This is your mentor, Slade Lumex!" Avalon had almost fallen asleep for a second when the train had been free of Monsharia, but unfortunately, she had returned. A part of Avalon couldn't help but coil inside when she heard the familiar chomp of her heels. Her stare met the man who crossed his arms next to Monsharia. He looked like he belonged to District 8, though his hair was more perfected and clothes were straightened. She studided him, taking in his features; his eyes were hazel, with a slight pinch of blue, his dirty blond hair was combed over to the right to match his nice attire. For his complexion, he had rough skin with a few faded scars here and there. The tightness of his jaw line made Avalon shudder a little, it looked like he was gritting his teeth down as if he was angry. The cheekbones of his face were sculpted to be defined, it matched the rest of his muscular self.

"He one the 57th Hunger Games!" Monsharia chirped. "That makes him... Thirty?" She looked at his face for approval, but he simply replied with a grunt, and sat in the remaning seat next to Vittorio. Avalon saw Monsharia's eyebrows fold when she turned away from Slade,returning to read her Capitol Coture magazine. Vittorio looked up from his hands at Slade, who kept his arms folded with a smirk on his face.

"Well, well, well. Aren't you happy you've been picked?" Slade's voice made Avalon's skin prickle. It was a rough tone, with a twinge of hatred. "Another disappointment for District 8, I suppose?" He didn't even bother to make eye contact with them, and just simply stared at the ground. Avalon bit her lip, looking at Slade with a glare. How could he say that? Isn't our mentor suppose to give us advice? She was confused, and angry with the man before her. She looked at Vittorio, and searched his face for a look of distemper. "I mean," Slade went on, looking at their gaze now. "Isn't this supposed to be a fun little game?" Avalon caught him smile, was he toying with them after all of this? What is he trying to do? "Oh, am I hurting your feelings?" Slade turned towards Avalon, resting his elbows on his knees now. "A pretty girl like you couldn't stand a chance-"

"Shut the hell up." Avalon flourished her emotion through her words, causing Slade to tilt his head. Her jaw tightened, matching his. She was so angry now, so angry at Slade for saying those things. She was clutching onto the chair now, locking her eyes towards Slade's cruel smile.

"Avalon!" Monsharia exclaimed with a look of displeasure. She was obviously expecting manners from a girl who was ripped away from her father, and taken into custody by the place she utterly despised. She met Monsharia, who was now looking up from her precious magazine. Avalon didn't say anything except stare at Monsharia, making her uncomfortable, which caused her to look away.

"A little mad? Good. You'll need that in the games." Slade leaned back into his chair, pulling his arms up to create a head rest. Avalon was mad, she was disgusted, but she never dared to use such words near anyone except her father. "I know you're angry, and I know you want to show it." Slade raised his eyebrows towards us, signaling that we should now listen. "But, other tributes will be angry too, causing them to fuel it through weaponry. You have to do the same, but force it even more." Avalon saw that it was just a test, though her emotions were still pulsing. Slade folded his hands together, looking towards Vittorio. "Do you have experience with any type of weapon?" Avalon glanced away from them, letting them talk for a bit. It was dark now, she looked out at the stars that lined the sky. Her eyes met the carpet when a pain skipped across her chest, would she ever see her father again? "Avalon." She turned towards Slade, who was standing up now. "Get some good rest, you too Vittorio. I'm going to give some more life saving advice tomorrow." He gave a slight grin, but recieved no reply. "Goodnight." He turned to leave taking slow steps.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you."

The soft words escaped across his lips. It was a shock to Avalon that he could be so kind, he had shown selfishness earlier, though it was a simple test. His heavy steps faded until he entered the next train section. Avalon pressed her hand against the soft velvet, then steadied herself upward. She looked at Vittorio, about to turn and leave.

"Goodnight, Vittorio." She looked away, making sure she couldn't see his expression. It was too much for her to see the torment in his face again. Her fingertips met her dress, brushing away the wrinkles that had appeared. The soft carpet encircled her feet as she left to meet the soft blankets that awaited her.

______________________________________________________________


The circle under her eyes were deep, they matched her sunken face that hid the torture. The television blared in the background as her reflection echoed off of the mirror. Avalon felt disgusting, a girl who had gone through fire and couldn't get away. She just kept running until she was burnt to a crisp.

"Well, we have a pretty interesting mix of tributes this year, isn't that right, Claudius?" Avalon turned, hearing the familiar voices she had listened to each year. Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith. They were discussing the reapings that had been broadcasted earlier that evening. Avalon walked towards her bed, meeting the surface. She sat down, looking at the television. Caesar had his hair dyed red this year, along with his eyebrows. Each year was a different color for him, it amused Avalon how ridiculous it was.

"Yes, we do Caesar!" Claudius replied. "I believe this year will be very interesting. Especially since we're at the 70th mark!" They both enjoyed a small laugh as Caesar turned to explain the year before. Avalon quickly turned the television off, she knew she would see enough blood soon. Her soft hair had met the pillow, which had now fallen out of it's bun. She observed the room, it was modern, of course, with a unique design along the walls. The bed was enjoyable. Very enjoyable. Avalon closed her eyes, blocking away all of her thoughts and focusing on sleep. Goodnight father...

She needed rest, she had to have it for tomorrow.


OOC: Adantas, you are free to do whatever you want with Slade, he's just there.

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#, as written by Adantas
He wanted to stay lost in thought, to sink deeper and deeper in the depth of his mind. Unfortunately, it was difficult to not be aware of Monsharia entering. Her clipping heels loud and sharp against the floor. But there was another. Thicker, heavier footsteps accompanied her and Vit slowly raised his head to look at the newcomer. The way he scanned both of them and folded his arms, judging. Vit was unsure what to make of this Slade Lumex. He narrowed his eyes, weary of the man, thinking how the Games must have changed him. His movements were slow and precise as he came to sit in the chair next to Vit. He seemed to ignore Vit's inspection of him, staring intently at Avalon who was standing in front of them. Monsharia was babbling away about somethings but it was a relief when she shut up and went else where, taking her clacking heels away.

Then he spoke. It was deep and gravelly, and caused his heart to constrict. It was too close to sounding like his fathers. It was a struggle to not noticeably reel from him, but he his back stiffen and he sat up straighter. But it seemed that he wasn't the only one affected. But it wasn't his voice that was affecting Avalon, more the words that he was saying. Vit looked up at her and saw the tension that seemed to grow with each word that left his mouth. Her jaw clenched and her eyes blazed. Their gazes met and it seemed that she was looking for the same response that she was giving to Slades words, but he didn't let on. To him, it didn't matter. He had to get past his own demons, hold up his own promise, before he would let the words of others touch him. Although, when he touched on hurting Avalon's feelings he felt that even that was a low blow. And it was clear that it was enough to snap her. The sheer anger that she showed and being called weak was impressive. Vit remembered when the older boys would taunt him to no end and he wouldn't explode with violence, but rather a torrent of words that the probably had no comprehension of. And the satisfaction of seeing their confused faces was enough to stop him from going further and actually lashing out physically.

It seemed that the reaction that Slade got was exactly what he was looking for. If they were going to survive, there was no room for sympathy and reservation. Suddenly, it was like a flick of a switch. Slade had a sort of eagerness in his voice, and the relaxed pose that he had taken showed that he was impressed with his work. Vit would have rather not be involved but then Slade turned to him. Experience with any weapons? To a certain extent he supposed. It took an effort for him to make his voice box work again. He rarely spoke as it was let alone now and so his voice came out quieter than he wanted.

"I have some." Was all he said, not meeting Slade's eyes. The man grunted in response, and leaned to the side as if to get a better look at Vit.

"Look at me Vittorio." He said sternly, much too familiar to his fathers words. Vit briefly closed his eyes before turning to Slade who was frowning. He opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly closed it. His brows scrunched further but then he shook his head and spoke again.

"What in?"

"I can throw knives. I'm good with my hands too." He shrugged and looked away. Gaze falling to where Avalon had walked over to the window.

"You've got to be more specific than that. What can you do?" You could hear the slight impatience growing in his voice.

"I from District 8, you know what I can do. But..." He paused, still unsure whether to disclose the fact that he could incapacitate someone simply by pressing the right nerve. "I can paralyse someone." With that Slade raised an eyebrow.

"And how do you do that?"

"Does it really matter? I can do it and that's it."

Slade shrugged, rose from his seat and called Avalon. Joining them standing Vit crossed his arms and nodded to Slade as he told them to get some sleep. The soft words that Avalon spoke caused Vit to look up, but she was already retreating to the room.

"Goodnight Avalon." He said quietly and retreated to his own room.

___________

The room was beyond extravagant and Vit scowled. He would have preferred have slept on the floor but he knew that it wouldn't give him any benefit to be sleep deprived. He made sure that the lights were on dim, just so that they wouldn't keep him awake but light enough so that he could see everything. Once in the bed he couldn't believe how soft it was. It made him hate them even more and after everything today, emotions running an all time high he couldn't contain it any more. He buried his face into the pillow and pounded it a few times, squeezing his eyes tight. He felt weak, but there was nothing he could do. Instead, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

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Avalon Shire

Avalon had already been up when daylight rose to meet her. It was quiet, though something pulsed in the back of her mind. The stillness of the room filled her with warmth as her fingers traced the soft silk along the edges of her pillow. She let the sunlight fill her through the window, just before coming back to reality. She realized she was on the train, awaiting to be taken to a place she would never understand.

The Capitol.

She pushed herself up, placing her head in her hands. She wondered what was going on back in District 8, had they missed her? Did they have faith in her? Faith was a strong word for Avalon, she wasn't even sure if she had any faith in herself to win the games. Her toes filled the surface of the carpet as she circled around towards the mirror beside her. There, lay the dress she had worn to the reaping. Many memories filled her mind as pain skipped across her chest. The reaping... Biting her lip, Avalon pushed away the thought and held her wrinkled dress in her clutch, it was the only thing she had to wear to the Capitol.

She would look like garbage compared to them.

______________________________________________________________

"We'll soon be arriving!" Monsharia held her elbows in position with a tight grin on her face. It annoyed Avalon how cheery she was with her little melodic voice. Her outfit was different today, but still, just as- unique. She wore a layered pink dress to match her dyed "baldness", while many feathers poked upward and inward on her many jewelry chains. It was a rainbow of colors, and it made Avalon sick to the stomach. Slade sat at the table, engulfing his food with every bite. Avalon made her way to the table and sat next to him, reaching for the fresh loaves of bread. Bread Her favorite taste, she remembered when her father once brought it home from the bakery, and they shared it as a reaping present. Memories kept filling her mind, but instead, she hid them away for later. Monsharia skipped her way over to the table, and sat next to her. Avalon's nose was filled with ridiculous scents of strong perfume and hairspray. She coughed the other direction, folding her eyebrows in dismay. "Avalon!" Monsharia cried, "Are you coming down with something?"

"No, no..." Avalon answered, "The bread was just caught in my throat..." Monsharia gave a slight nod with a look of confusion, and returned to her weird green drink. Avalon sliced the bread, taking in one piece at a time. It blocked away the outrageous scents of Monsharia. Avalon looked towards Slade, who was still, eating like a maniac. "Where's Vit?" She asked. He looked towards her, raising his eyebrows while something strange that Avalon couldn't depict, hung in his mouth.

"He'll be here soon." He gave a slight shrug, and continued to eat.

"What do you mean by that?" She replied.

"I don't know."

"What?"

"Huh?" He grunted.

"Vittorio?"

"Let me eat..." He rolled his eyes, looking away from Avalon. She bit her lip, sinking into the plush chair. Slade was much of an awkward man, who tended with his own duties instead of others. Grump, much? He reminded her of her father, who had always taugh Avalon manners, but never used any if his own. Avalon heard Vittorio come in, taking a seat next to Slade. She stayed quiet, feeling uncomfortable in the awkward situation. Her fingertips met the plate, pushing it aside instead of finishing.

Silence.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Avalon hated these situations, she might as well break it now before it went to far. "Slade, tell us about how to find-"

"The Capitol! We're here!" Monsharia jumped from her seat, running towards the small windows. "Oh, just look at it! Even more beautiful everytime!" She clapped her hands together in an excited cheer. "Avalon, Vittorio, come look!" Avalon clutched her chair, one part of her wanted to go, one part wanted to stay. Her footsteps were slow, as if something waited to destroy her.

She saw it. The modern utopia, the unique structures filled her eyes with bright lights. Many steel bridges along with buildings lined a vast lake that spread across the land. Then, the citizens. They all looked like Monsharia with their bright hair and eyes and wonderful smiles. They pointed towards Avalon, like she was some famous person.

"Blow a kiss to the crowd..." Slade grumbled. "They're your only hope now."

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#, as written by Adantas
Vit's eyes snapped open. Confusion and terror pounding at his heart. Where was he? He sat up sharply, bare chest coated in sweat. He glances furtively around, trying to reorientate himself. It's then that he realises where he is and why he's in a very soft bed. He plants a hand to his forehead and closes his eyes, all the dread and anger returning to him. A few deep breaths later he slowly pushes the covers off and gets out of bed. It was strange to think that he had every luxury at hand. He didn't need to worry about water for shower, food for breakfast, or clothes to wear. It was already provided and he hated that. But waking up on this new day he made a decision. A sudden desperate need to write it down took over him and so he went in search of something to write on. Once he found the some paper and a pen he began to write:

The Capitol is the flame, it feeds on destruction.
It will burn you.
But you can rise from the ashes.
Survive, show them you will not be destroyed.


To him it meant that he couldn't open show his despise for the people, he couldn't spit in their face his defiance. But nor would he give them the perfect show boy like the Careers that he saw so often put on a show to impress the people. He was going to show them a darker side. A deeper side that would silence them. He gently folded the crisp paper and placed it on the side table to go get changed. His clothes were still lying on the floor where he discarded them last night. Gingerly he picked them up, brushed them out and put them on without another thought. He was glad that he still had his black trousers and charcoal shirt, the fact that it was slightly crushed made no difference to him. It was dark and colourless and that was all that mattered. His stomach decided to grumble at that stage and he sighed as it was probably time he went out to the others. Grabbing both the piece of paper and the worn material that he had placed on the bedside table last night he made his way out to the others.

When he entered the room, it was unsurprisingly silent. Slade was stuffing his face, Avalon seemed to have just finished and Monsharia was drinking some sort of green concoction that resembled something he didn't want to think about. Not breaking the silence, Vit took a seat next to Slade. There was a vast variety of different food, ranging from things he had never seen before and the basics like bread. He tentatively grabbed a slice of bread and spread some, what he assumed, butter generously over the top. He breathed in deeply as the fresh bread smell wafted around his nose. He took a large bit and the taste exploded in his mouth. He had never tasted something so delicious. He ignored the silence, content to simply eat the bread. He thought of his mother while eating it, picturing that she was here enjoying the feast with him. That was the only way he would allow himself to enjoy the food. He was on his second slice when Avalon started to speak up. He turned to her, but before she even got a chance to finish Monsharia shrilly exclaimed their arrival to the Capitol. His shoulders slumped and the bread didn't tasted heavy in his mouth. He dropped the unfinished piece back onto the place and roughly pushed the chair back to stand next to Monsharia. You could hear the pride she had for the Capitol, it was disgusting.

Vit stared at a scowl stuck on his face. The buildings reached the sky, blindingly reflecting the sunshine and hurting his eyes. It's modern and slanted structures confusing and disorientating. It looked crowded and unnatural. There was hardly any green that wasn't artificial. It was the perfect city. And that was what was exactly wrong with it.

Then there was the people. Manically screaming, a sea of faces that unlike when he left home was contorted with overwhelming excitement. They were mutants, colour mutants and Vit stared coldly at them, but relaxed his features slightly as he remembered what he wrote earlier. Having them hate him wouldn't help him. Slade was right, they were their only hope.

"Mutants. Sadistic Mutants." He muttered under his breath.

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Avalon Shire

"Look, District 8!"

The swarm of color made Avalon's eyes widen. Everywhere was a colored hat, or painted lips that parted with a smile. Avalon's face was blank, she couldn't absorb what was going on in the moment. It was a sea of saturation, yellow, green, orange, blue, even some that Avalon couldn't even name. The fancy wigs and dyed skin made her think of porcelain dolls who lined the streets in a cheer, a cheer for her. Slade mentioned that they needed sponsors, citizens who loved them and their simple actions. But Avalon wasn't loving anyone,

she despised each and every person there.

An expression of disgust passed her face for a second, but soon faded away when she met Slade, who was shaking his head slightly. Avalon turned towards Vitt, who was walking beside her. The camera flashes and loud screams made her flinch inside with each footstep. "Vittorio?" She whispered, "They're disgusting..." She looked towards the crowd, trying not to anticipate the utter hatred that was fueling inside of her.

"District 8!"

"Give us a smile!"

"Oh what we could do with her hair!"

"Do you think she's trained?"


Avalon held her chin up, hearing their loud whispers. It was clear they doubted her, it seemed everyone did. She looked towards the crowd, giving a slight smile and a simple wave. Every inch in her body was covered in hatred, how could she have done this to the people who made her this way? She looked at Vittorio with an angry expression that echoed in the atmosphere.

______________________________________________________________

It was elegant but lacked a warm touch, everything lacked that in the Capitol. When Avalon had passed the cheering crowd, she hadn't even begun to take in the large buildings. The red drapes hung from the walls with a terrifying feeling, many curved chairs sat behind the glass tables that lined the pale walls, and unique flowers let off a cold smell. This was their home, for the time being. Monsharia chirped with glee as she clicked over towards the center of the golden staircase above us.

"Don't mind the avoxs..." She went on, "They're just here for your service!" And with that, she shut the door, closing herself to personal company.

Here comes the rest of my life.

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#, as written by Adantas
Vit stared out at the crowd, his eyes blazing but his face betraying no emotion. When Avalon spoke his name he inclined his head in her direction but didn't completely take his eyes off the frenzied citizens. These were the people that he needed to like him, to favour him above the rest in order to aid in his survival. But how could you ask for the adoration and support from someone that you can barely stand? He agreed with Avalon, they were disgusting. So just low enough for both of them to hear, he said to her:

"They hide their corrupt souls by altering their body. They think that if they look different, then no-one will see the demons inside of them."

He felt dirty in their presence, he felt like he had to protect Avalon from their gazes. He saw how they judged, he could hear their words. Concerned more for entertainment factors than whether Avalon and Vit were actual people. Vit raised his chin in defiance, he wanted them to see that he was better than them. They probably wouldn't connect the motion with that but it didn't matter. His look became much more regal, regarding those around him with mild disdain. Inside of him burned and he knew that it did in Avalon too. It was clear in her face and as she looked at him, he turned his head fully to her. Allowing his hatred for the Capitol to simmer just so that he could look at her without the blaze of anger in his eyes that he had for the citizens. It was such a casual movement, he raised his hand and laid it on her shoulder, squeezing gently. He wanted her to know that they could use this, the fire will consume them, but they can rise from the ruins and be reborn stronger. They can defeat the Capitol.

_____________________

More extravagance, more luxury and more elegance then Vit had ever thought possible. But it didn't surprise him in the least. He cast an uninterested eye around the room as they entered. Monsharia was obviously pleased and her perkiness was sickening especially when she waved off the avox or more accurate, slave. Vit's expression had not varied since arriving at their living quarters but there was a tenseness about him that he couldn't seem to let go. He took a few paces, moving further into the suite. It was then that he turned towards Monsharia.

"How can you live like this?" His voice surprisingly strong and clear. It was the first time the Capitol woman had heard him and she flinched at the sudden sound. She turned to face him, expression quickly changing to a unsure smile.

"I don't know what you mean. We have everything provided for us here, it is a wonderful place to live." She said simply.

"I see, and while you live in luxury everyone else is forced to live in poverty, on the edge of survival." The words came out harsher than Vit intended and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from continuing his tirade of abuse against her life and the Capitol. Monsharia looked taken aback, a hand placed against her chest and delicate scowl on her face.

"The Capitol is a benevolent place, where people have the chance to live a good life. The only reason that the other Districts live so poorly is their own doing. If they could see that the Capitol is trying to help them, then maybe you could live better too! It is your own fault." Her voice firm, but there was an undertone of reproach. "But, we can't be arguing about little things that we have no control over. You are too young to really see what the Capitol does for people anyway." Her words were that of a dismissal, it seemed the conversation was over. Vit was shockingly calm, his anger and hatred was bottled in the corner of his heart and all that was left was this serious and solemn shell. He knew that if he lost control he wouldn't be able to contain his fury and would turn it to Monsharia. Instead he thought logically against her words. Monsharia spoke with clear belief in her words and nothing that Vit could say would change that. There would be no point in arguing. But the words spoken rung though the air and Vit looked at the others. His eyes met Slade first. The older man shook his head but said nothing only following Monsharia who was walking away towards the dining table that was laden with food, incident already forgotten. Then Vit turned to Avalon.

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Avalon Shire

Avalon couldn't let the words reach through her throat. How could Monsharia say those things? The world of loveliness around her turned into a dark hole of pity. As if she wasn't angry enough, she clenched her jaw, watching the colorful woman trot upward on the golden staircase with pursuit. She felt like she couldn't trust anyone, she felt alone and cold though Vittorio stood next to her. She remembered him placing his hand on her shoulder, it startled her for a moment, but the pain flourished away from her body as calmness spread through her fingertips. She admitted, she couldn't think straight, but all there was in her heart was anger. Anger; would she ever get passed the emotion? Something shook within Avalon, now was the time to become steady.

"Stop it!" She felt her clasp tighten as he turned toward her with a glare. The circles under his eyes were deep and dreadful, they began to match the smile that inched across his wrinkled face. Her fist pounded on his back, she thought it would push the sorrow out of him.

It wasn't working.

A chortle of laughter escaped his breath, "Go to Hell!" His elbow met Avalon's stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She steadied her self, clutching her torso. Her deep eyes met his, the tears were passing her lips as they met the floorboards. She felt her mouth tremble, she wanted to scream with an aching passion, she wanted to lash out towards him and yell horrifying things that no one would approve of. But something wouldn't let her, she couldn't seem to let the words reach her throat. She watched the substance drip town his chin as he held the glass bottle up to his mouth. All of her earnings, all she had been saving for was being wasted on alcohol. She fell to the ground, looking away from the sight that would now haunt her memories forever.

"You're a bitch, just like your mother!" The cackle of laughter spread through the air again. "Besides, it's not my fault you killed her." That was it. She ran towards her father, grabbing the bottle and throwing it to the ground. The splash of liquor and shattered glass rang through her ears as she began to pound on him, trying with all of her effort to harm him like he had done her. She beat against his chest while he laughed with pity against her weak doings. She had not killed her! She had not caused the weakness of her mother's body! She wasn't a bitch!

A scream passed her throat and everything stopped.

All of her words poured into the saddening noise. She had never defied her father, nor hurt him in any way. Her foot pressed into the shards of glass as pain encircled her foot. She couldn't feel it, not after what had happened. A tear ran down her father's face, but rage quickly took over again.

That's when he slapped her.


Avalon had a tendencie to bite her lip when nervous, that memory had always flooded her mind when something went wrong. She always wanted to scream. Looking at Vitt, she blocked away the tears that began to meet her eyes. Why was she crying? She was stronger than this pathetic act.

"That was very brave, Vitt." She looked away from him, meeting the polished floors. "She deserved it." It was cruel notion, but Monsharia really did deserve it after the act the had happily given. She looked back at Vittorio, "If only I could say that to others." She gave a slight smile. "Looks like we'll have to put up with the demons, for now." She pondered this. Avalon had encountered many sick beings or demons in her life, but nothing like this. The echo of cheers ran through the doorway as her hand traveled above the elegant handrail. Just for a moment she wasn't alone. She looked at Vittorio, still standing there. He was there to protect her, he was there to make sure she didn't forget about District 8, he was there to tell her calming things. She looked away, hesitating for a second.

She wasn't alone.

______________________________________________________________

Avalon felt disgusting. It was her second day in the Capitol, and she was taken into custody of the stylists. Every hair, every pore, every particle of her body was clensed to pure perfection. She felt uncomfortable in the hands of someone she didn't know, especially when they rinsed her own skin. The adherence to the job of stylists was actually hilarious to Avalon. They skipped around in their unsual outfits, {like everyone else in the Capitol}, and studied Avalon in every which way. She was an outsider to them, an animal who hadn't yet experienced age defying beauty. Her nails were neatly rinsed of dirt and glossed in a waxy coat, while her hair had been neatly trimmed and combed in a perfect manor. She admitted she looked beautiful, but she didn't feel that way, Avalon felt she was a low standard of the Capitol. She hadn't yet glimpsed any other tributes, but she kept looking at Vittorio for reassurance. Soon they would ride out into a stadium to be observed by thousands. This was the time to make people like you.

"Blow a kiss to the crowd, they're your only hope now."

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Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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His eyes were frozen on her, she was biting her lip, something he hadn't noticed for many years, but it was the desperate look in those eyes that melted some of his steely gaze. He could see the turmoil writhing inside of her and realised that he wasn't the only one. He had known that she had felt the same loathing he had for these people, but the fact that she was feeling some other burning aside from that hadn't occurred to him. He suddenly didn't feel so isolated, this build up to their execution diffused if only slightly. He had to stop himself from wiping the coming tears that he saw in her eyes.

They were hungry again, it was a slow time of year and they were struggling. Not more than several years old Vit couldn't comprehend why his stomach grumbled and there wasn't anything to satisfy it. It was anguish and he was often buckled over crying for food. His father was still out at the factory, his mother only just returning home from trying to find some more work. As he heard her enter he scrambled up and ran to her, clutching around her waist. His large eyes gazing up at her, searching for a sign that there was food. His mother knelt down so that she was at his eye level and held his shoulders firmly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." It was then that he saw the wetness forming in her eyes. He had never seen his mother cry and it created a crack in his young heart. He did not like it. This wasn't right, his mother, his always cheerful, always optimistic mother couldn't be crying. It was then that the young Vittorio gained something, something beyond his limited years. He braced himself against the desperate hunger and halted his quivering lip. Gingerly, his five year old hand wiped her tears away, his face solemn and firm. His mother gently took her sons hand in hers, a different sadness in her eyes. She knew that simple action had hardened her small child.


He knew she was strong, he remembered her as a child, even then she had a brave heart. To him tears weren't a sign of weakness, they were of intimacy and vulnerability. He didn't want her to hide her emotions, but he knew that it was a delicate state and they were still strangers to a certain extent. He found himself nervous. A need to help, to reassure her drove him but he couldn't respond any movement to his limbs. But she looked away. Her words actually took him by surprise. He didn't see them as brave, it was simply the start. He couldn't bear it any longer, he had to see Monsharia's beliefs, he had to see why people could live that way and her response showed him just that. The people truly believed that the Capitol was good. They couldn't see it and it was that ingrained thought that Vit realised he couldn't break. He couldn't show the people, after so many years of them witnessing the Games, of them seeing the utter dismay that others lived in. They wouldn't change even if he somehow did truly show them. But if he couldn't do it for the future, he would at least do it for himself and Avalon. Avalon. He had no one left, but he did. They were in this together and he was there for her as she was for him.

"You can." He said softly, a spark just reaching his eyes as she gave him a slight smile. He hadn't smiled for so many years that he wasn't sure how to. He did manage a small curl of the lips. She moved, elegantly gliding, past him only stopping to give a final glance back at him. Their eyes meeting and sharing an unspoken understanding. And then he watched her leave. She was beautiful. So much more pure and striking than any the Captiol could ever create. Standing there, now alone again, he didn't feel alone any more.

_______________________________

The second day was designated to 'perfecting' them. They had been taken by the stylists and it was a kind of torture that Vit hadn't imagined possible and the Capitol people relished it. For the day Vit only caught glimpses of Avalon but he could see the look in her eye that told him she needed him. And that ignited that strange unknown feeling in him again. But it wouldn't be long before they would be on those chariots, adorned with some Capitol monstrosity and parading for the public. Shivers ran down Vit's back imagining it.

There were three stylists that were assigned to him. He pitied them because he would give them a hell of a time. They actually had to strap him down onto the table to clean him and even then he thrashed about yelling incoherent insults at them. But they simply ignored him, occasionally giving quizzical looks at each other, as if asking whether this guy was crazy. They had managed to scrape every speck of dirt from him and Vit felt naked, exposed to these people in a way he hadn't imagined. Thankfully, he was thrashing around too much for them to even attempt to cut his hair and style his stubble.

One slightly overweight stylist was quickly getting infuriated and he actually stopped and asked the other two to momentarily leave so he could talk with Vit, who was still tied down on the operating table. The guy came up and planted both hands next to Vit's head, their faces very close.

"Now listen to me, you. Don't you get it? You have to look like them. The Capitol doesn't appreciate it when you openly defy them. It won't win you any favours." The guy practically hissed at him. Vit had stopped his flailing around and met the mans eyes with a passion. His face betrayed nothing and he looked as imperial as he could imagine. But inside, he was questioning this strange man. He had said them, not us, them.

"I don't want any favours."

"Then you are a fool."

Vit frowned as the man moved away turning his back to him.

"Don't give me any colours." Was all he said as he relaxed his body and laid back, looking up to the ceiling.

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Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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Avalon Shire

She lay on the table, staring at the ceiling. Every aperture of her skin felt clensed to excellence. It was clear that she was simply stunning; her long, wavy, dark brown hair, was combed into perfection. Her nose was thin and her cheekbones are prominent because of the Capitol product they applied to give her an extra glow. Her eyebrows were darker than her hair and were straighter than they were arched. She felt different, a girl who had been transformed, though she looked the same, but with more of a natural beauty. Avalon remembered the shouts that rang throughout the echoing doorway. They belonged to Vittorio, who was defying the stylists as they poked and prodded at him. She wanted to run over to his team, making sure they would stop messing with him, she thought he was perfect as he was. Avalon wanted to find the courage in her heart to revolt against her team, but she followed instructions. As usual. An aching pain reached through her heart as her eyebrows furrowed, was Vittorio alright? Did they hurt him? She shook her head slightly as her thoughts shifted, Vittorio couldn't be hurt, he was too bold to not put up a fight. She admired the room, it was small with iron walls that concealed her. She awaited her head stylist that would help her to gain sponsors with a new personality along with a new wardrobe. Her mind flickered to when her team looked at her with caution. Was she a disgusting threat? Avalon couldn't believe they thought of her as a filthy human. She felt exposed when they began washing her, over and over again, until her skin was as smooth as anything. Her fingertips ran along her skin, feeling the fresh coat. The annoyance filled her chest again when she closed her eyes. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, pressing against every memory that had ever conflicted her.

"District 8..." Avalon's eyes were widened as she altered her head to the side, laying her eyes on the stylist who had spoken. She looked tall, with long, curly, brilliant orange hair that reminded Avalon of fire with the usual colorful eyes of a citizen. She possessed a terrible beauty and had a soft, high soprano of a voice that contrasted with her fierce looks when she spoke. She moved at a feline pace with perfect, lethal steps. Her hair sprawled out in every direction which hinted Avalon of a young lion's mane while it matched the small hair accessorie which depicted a top hat. As for her look? Pink high heeled shoes that matched her silver dress. She studied Avalon, pacing around the table, admiring her features that her beloved team put together. Her fingertips started to press against her hair, rubbing multiple strands together. "Typical." She uttered in a sarcastic tone. Avalon folded her eyebrows together, looking away from the bright stylist. "I wasn't trying to upset you." She pleaded, "It just needs a little, wow factor! Which my team always seems to miss. Did they make you uncomfortable?" The woman looked at Avalon with a confused expression. Avalon opened her mouth as words tried to escape her lips, but something blocked the voice that urgently tried to pass through her throat. "I'm Felica, by the way." Felica took Avalon's hand, shaking it like Monsharia did with a smooth touch. Avalon felt a bit more comfortable as she smiled with kindness.

"I told your team to keep my natural look, I didn't want much changing..." Avalon trailed off, looking away from Felica. Felica nodded, taking more strides around the table.

"I can't blame you for saying that." Felica replied with a smirk, "I see what you mean. Sometimes we don't need all of these fauxe things to make us look beautiful." Felica studied herself, staring at her newly polished nails. Avalon felt sorry for Felica, she seemed to be jealous of natural beauty, though Avalon truly didn't think she was pretty in any way. Avalon felt adequate with Felica, as if they could become friends. She ignored the though of Felica being a Capitol citizen though it still creeped in the back of her mind. Again, Avalon had filled the room with silence as she didn't answer to anything. "Your partner was having a little trouble with the rest of the team." Felica cocked an eyebrow up, signaling towards Avalon. "Is he always... aggressive?" Avalon clenched her jaw, meeting Felica's gaze.

"He's not aggressive, just angry. Like me." Avalon narrowed her eyes as Felica's smirk vanished. "You know," Avalon looked away, meeting the ceiling again. "It must be hard for you, having to go through this pain of keeping up with pesky children. It must be difficult having to be forced to clean up District 8's tributes with their disgusting lifestyle." Avalon hesitated, looking back at Felica who was moving her hands together in an awkward manor. Avalon had actually fueled her anger through her words, starting to feel cruel.

"I'm sorry." Felica apologized, "I guess it isn't much fun to be placed in an arena trying to fight to the death." Avalon bit her lip, now sitting up from the cold table. "I have a good idea on what we can do with this..."

______________________________________________________________

Avalon wondered if Felica really did have any good ideas in her mind. She had yet to see Vitt's stylist, though she didn't really want to, she believed one was enough. The dress around her fit tightly, squeezing every particle of skin into one package. The mirror reflected her image while she studied herself. Her hair had been wrapped around a wooden, "spool of thread". The braided strands resembled the thread that was usually used for weaving or sewing cloth together back in their district. Her makeup was natural, with a silver lining of eyeliner, Felica said it reminded her of fabric, whatever that meant... The dress consisted of many different fabric patterns that spiraled around her chest, flowing down to her feet. Many of the patches contained designs, or different types of texture including silk to cotton. Felica said she looked stunning.

She felt like a freak.

"Wonderful!" Felica's high pitched voice ran through the narrow hallway that lead to the large stadium where they would be observed. Avalon had trouble walking in the multi-colored heels she wore, but she seemed to manage after a few lessons Felica offered to teach. Felica gave a cheerful clap as Vittorio stood there, waiting there for us along with his stylist. Avalon's face lit up when she saw Vittorio, she inspected him, taking in every new feature. He was cleanly cut in a way that made her forget about District 8, though his face still showed the anguish that many of the citizens wore. His stubbled chin had changed into a freshly shaved area, while his hair was neatly trimmed. Avalon wondered if she looked any different, but she dearly hoped not, she wanted to look much of the same like Vitt had. Pulling away from Felica, she stood next to Vittorio in his matching outfit, though it didn't posses the spool of thread in her hair or dress appearance. Felica and Vittorio's stylist walked side by side, ussuring us to move forward.

"I look like a freak, we both do." Avalon let off a slight smirk when she whispered the statement. Avalon admitted, she felt like one, but she surely wasn't alone compared to the number of Capitol citizens wearing outrageous outfits along with the other tributes. A bright light began to shine through the doors of the hallway as Capitol cheers echoed through the narrow passage. It was overwhelming when they began to cheer the names of various districts. Avalon's eyes widened as she wrapped her hand around Vittorio's arm, pulling herlself closer. Her head whipped around to meet his eyes for a rescue, she didn't know what she was doing, she never did anymore.

"Avalon, I forgot something!" Felica violently grabbed her arm, wrapping small flexible bands around her limbs. They were colorful ribbons that would flow through the wind when they reached their chariot. "Perfect!" Felica gave a slight and awkward hug, wrapping her hands around Avalon.

"Father..." Avalon let out a quiet whisper. He ran to her as the doors were shut by the guarding peacekeepers. He held her tight, arms wrapped around her back. Her eyelids shut as a tear trickled down her face, she wasn't strong anymore. A quiet sob filled the air as his quick breaths of air rippled through the room. Her fingers clasped the back of his worn shirt as he shook beneath it. "It's ok..." She appeased him. Avalon felt the man before her weaken, as if his soul was being ripped into two. The sorrow in his dark eyes was ripping her apart as well, she would have to become the adult now.

The hug awakened her. Her father would see her now, everyone would see her now. Everyone would see her now. Avalon shook beneath herself, watching the tribute's heads in front of her watch the rest of their prey. Her knees buckled, shaking constantly. She was their prey. A small gulp ran beneath her throat. The utter silence was surrounding her, though it was truthfully loud in the stadium with the flashing lights and screaming citizens. Reality came to her when the ground beneath her started moving; she was already in the chariot. Her trembling hands reached the edges of the basket, clenching tightly to the elegant surface. The wheels moved slowly as they began to pass through the entrance of the brightly lit stadium. She looked at Vittorio standing there.

"This is it..." She whispered. Avalon would try to be strong, trying not to crumble like a coward.

Though she new she was.

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For the next few hours he complied near silently. Of course, his anger wouldn't allow him not to take a few snaps at them occasionally. The head stylist had to send the others out time to time so that he could remind Vit that his behaviour wouldn't help. Most of the times Vit just glared at the strange man, searching his soft features for deception. But within those overly large silvery-blue eyes he couldn't see anything but annoyance. The other times they made small conversation, Vit able to contain some of the venom long enough to be polite. He learnt that that the stylists name was Ostro. Ostro certainly had a different manner to the others. Even the way he dressed, a simple grey crossed over waist coat that had sever different patterns melding into it over what seemed to be twisting around his arm a simple silver and glittery crystal blue long sleeved shirt. While he wasn't a large man, he was rounder around the edges but his face betrayed a fierceness. His groomed beard had flecks of bluish silver streaked through, casting a slimmer look to his face.

The straps that held him to the table had long been removed and Vit sat up, legs hanging off the side of the table, staring gloomily at the wall. It was another interval, the other stylists had gone to retrieve his outfit, and he and Ostro where alone for the moment.

"How do you cope?" He had phrased this question several times in his head. Always trying to work up the courage to ask. It was different from when he confronted Monsharia. This man was clearly different and he didn't know how he would respond. Ostro turned his head slightly, his back still facing Vit, a slight smirk on his lips.

"I suppose there's a mind set to being a 'citizen of the Capitol'. Well, really there is no choice." It didn't exactly answer his question and Vit was about to push more but then the man started again. "I imagine you've already confronted your handler, Monsharia right? You'll find, or rather you probably won't, there are different types of people in the Capitol. Like I imagine there are different types of people in your district." He had turned back to mixing some sort of dye as he continued speaking. "Everyone plays the cards they have been dealt with differently. Some hold theirs, waiting for their chance, others are forced to show their bluff and there are those that utilise every trick in the book and bury the fact that they destroyed others to win. There can only be one winner." He turned and faced Vit, his eyes glinting. He smirked, as if he had just told Vit the secret to life.

"What do you hold?" Tilting his head, trying to figure Ostro out.

"Never reveal your cards early. That's a trick everyone should know!" It was irritating that he wouldn't answer his underlying question and Vit wasn't letting go that easily.

"How?" He pushed.

"Enough!" His playfulness was slipping away. "What do you think? Each year, I get given a child, told to make them perfect and then watch as they are slaughtered. It is different for everyone. They play their cards differently and I've already shown you mine." He cut off and then faced away, furiously fiddling with the assortments of equipment. For once, Vit didn't know how to respond. He suddenly realised how Ostro coped, he talked to the tribute. He held the same thought as Vit and he wanted him to know it. It was his way of redemption. If he couldn't save them he could at least tell them that there were others, there was hope.

The silence lasted no longer than ten seconds before the other two stylists came back. Between them they were carrying some monstrosity and in Vit's mind he instantly recoiled. On the outside he kept his regal air and simply raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to no colours?"

Ostro who had gone over to the two had a mischievous glee about him. He had become a stylist for some reason.

"And I didn't put any colour on you, now did I? This, is the marvellous outfit that you and your partner will be wearing. I think it represents your district quite nicely. Look at these textures and patterns!"

"That is simply ridiculous. How is that any sort of fashion? I'm going to end up looking like a multi-coloured jumble of threads! You are not getting me in that." Vit had hopped down from the table and had moved behind it to put a sort of barrier between himself and the ghastly material.

"Come now, don't be like this. It was a simple design to represent your district, trust me it is definitely an improvement from other years." He took the suit delicately, as if cradling a child and began to walk towards Vit. "Would you prefer the easy way where you dress yourself or the hard way where we strip you of all your dignity?"

Vit clenched his teeth, stalked over to Ostro and snatched the costume.

"You better give me something decent for the interview." He growled, before going to get changed.

_________

Feeling absolutely stupid Vit tromped after Ostro who led him to where Avalon and her stylist were. He hadn't exactly had the time to think about her, but since there hadn't been any protesting from her side he had supposed she was alright. Of course from the expression on her face she clearly wasn't impressed with the costume either. But despite the Capitol style Avalon looked beautiful all the same. They highlighted her natural beauty and she seemed to glow brighter with the passion that was ever present in her features. He raised an eyebrow at the strange stylist that was clapping gleefully and was clearly impressed with her work.

He had his arms folded and waited for Avalon to face him. She did look incredible, despite dressed as a one of them and he couldn't help but smile. Something he was finding himself do more often when he thought of her. One hand unconsciously went to scratch his chin, prepared to feel the familiar roughness and spike of his stubble but flinched away when he felt it smoothness. His hair hadn't needed much changing but it was more quaffed then he supposed was natural. Vit wasn't self concious usually but standing there in front of Avalon, groomed like some sort of rich pet, he felt a twinge of nervousness.

Before he could so much as comment, they were being ushered through to where the chariots awaited. Approaching the gateway Avalon whispered to him, a slight smirk on her lips. He had to admit she was right. There was no denying that they looked outrageous and he couldn't help but let out a deep chuckle that vibrated his chest. The way she said it made her sound so innocent. They had just stepped aboard their chariot when Avalon's high pitched stylist suddenly grabbed her. She attached some small ribbons that would billow out as the wind rushed past them. Even Vit had to admit that it would look effective. A quick glance to Ostro confirmed that he got no such item and he sighed with relief.

Once on the chariot Vit stood tall. His heart hammering in his chest like a war drum, in tune with the cheering crowd that was heard outside. This was the moment that he would show these people that he was not afraid, he would show them that they were beneath him. Like an oak, he stood strong, towering above the rest. But his attention soon turned to Avalon, who shook like a frail bird and in that instant he went from untouchable god to protector. The way she shook, terrified of these creatures, erupted another burst of anger towards them. It was true that they would be parading through hell itself, for all demon eyes to see, but he wanted her to know that they couldn't harm her. While he was around, he wouldn't allow them to so much as touch her. The way she clenched the sides of the chariot made Vit frown. They were vultures and any sign of weakness they would tear apart.

With a slight jerk the chariot moved off, the light and cheering coming ever closer. And suddenly they had burst through the gateway, waves upon waves of people, all cheering at the tops of their lungs. Another quiver from Avalon beside him and he knew that he had to show her stronger. They would be royalty tonight. And so, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her up, hoping that she would be able to stand tall and proceeded to display their might. Over the roar of the crowd he yelled to Avalon.

"We are the kings and queens tonight. They do not rule us and we must show them!"

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The screams began to overwhelm her. She closed her eyes, breathing in each scent of the stadium. Much perfume lingered through the air as the sudden movement of her chariot jolted forward. Her hip moved to the side as Vittorio wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She looked up at him as her breathing slowed. She wasn't dead. He was there. They were royalty tonight, as he had said.

"Welcome tributes!" Avalon twisted her head to the front of the chariot. The horses shuffling added to the noise that rang through the stadium. To her left were many screaming citizens as to her right. The chariots in front of her moved upward in a perfect pace. She had stopped shaking now, she had noticed that Vittorio was now waving his hand in the air, smiling. Her lip trembled a bit as she hesitated to move her arm into the air and give a slight wave. On the screens above her, she observed their chariot. She began to wave more, Avalon remembered the sponsors were going to be needed throughout the games. Many fans cheered with excitement as they passed by them, they recieved more attention since they were actually making contact together. Behind her, the ribbons rippled through the air like ocean waves as she raised her hand up higher, making sure she would get responses. Each member of the crowd was dressed in their unique fashion, as usual. The bright flashes and roars of the crowd rippled off of Vittorio's face, making Avalon think of a blur. Everything was going on slow-motion for her, and it seemed to wipe away all of the sudden nerves that filled every angle of her body. She managed to be filled with warmth instead, turning towards the crowd and waving with Vitt's arms still around her waist. She still had District 8 with her. Just pretend to love it her, enjoy it Avalon-

"Thank you!" The minutes had passed with smiling and waving as their chariot came to a hault. filthy voice rang through the air as Avalon flinched. The beady eyes stared out into the crowd, studying each tribute with caution, though he possesed complete authority over them. Avalon closed her eyes, blocking out each noise that escaped his lips. She wanted to try and find that moment of pride, though the fear had already grasped it and taken over her.

President Snow.

She turned her head, ignoring the speech he was giving, and waited to leave.

______________________________________________________________

"That was great!" Felica gave a small jump in the air as she ran towards Avalon, Monsharia and Slade following behind.
creating a scowl across his face. He gave an evil wink, making Avalon sense the goosebumps up her skin. His golden eyes glinted into her, creating an inner turmoil of confusion.
"It was excellent, hopefully we can gain a few sponsors from that performance..." Slade trailed off, placing his hands on her shoulders. Avalon bit her lip, looking away from all of the compliments she recieved. The chatter in the back ground didn't seem to matter, she was just concerned that one part of her wanted to be home, and one part of her wanted to stay in that royal moment with Vittorio. Her eyes searched the hallway again, in hope of an escape from all of the motion.

District 2.

He was staring at her with a scowl that marked across his face. His golden eyes glinted into her as an inner turmoil of cunfusion burst in her chest. He gave an evil wink, returning with a sadistic smirk. Avalon tilted her head, looking away from the scowl. She sensed the goosebumps up her arms when she began to feel uncomfortable. Avalon leaned next to Vittorio, "I don't like it here. Let's go." Avalon flicked her eyes across to District 2, signaling the male tribute was staring at them. Slade turned,taking Monsharia by the arm and pulling them away.

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They were back behind the doors, away from the screaming crowd. Avalons energetic stylist was thrilled with their performance and even Ostro gave a sly nod of approval. Slade seemed impressed too, his calculating mind ticking over. But despite it all, Vit felt wrong. Like he had betrayed his mother, like he had fallen into the Capitols trap. An angry scowl contorted his face, but it wasn't anyone around him that triggered it, but his own growing hatred of himself. The Capitol was already winning. But then he looked to Avalon, she seemed so innocent, she didn't deserve to die and Vit decided, she didn't have to. If that was something he could do to destroy some of the Capitols control in the Games, then he would do everything in his power to keep her alive.

She was strong, she would be able to survive. On the chariot ride, she had stood tall, rising to the occasion and that is what proved to Vit that she could be the Victor. He looked down at her, his features softening slightly and noticed that she was staring off into the distance. He followed her gaze and noticed the cause of her distraction. The arrogance oozed off the boy, from his get up it was clear that he was the District 2 tribute. He looked like the perfect psychopath, exactly the person that Vit needed to protect Avalon from. He felt her lean against him, urging them to leave. The others turned in his direction, saw the malicious glare and began to move in the direction of the elevators that would take them back up to the sanctuary of their room.

Back upstairs the others were still chattering about their amazing display, but Vit felt sick to the core and couldn't bear hearing any more. Everyone headed straight to the dinning table that was beautifully laden with food in celebration. Vit followed slowly behind and as everyone took his seat he stood, looking into the distance, a sudden need to be alone overwhelming him. He dashed away and as Monsharia protested he called over his shoulder.

"Not hungry."

He slammed the door of his room, anger fuelling him, causing him to shake. The Games were destroying him, like a helpless doll in the hands of a cruel child, they were pulling him apart. He was like an erupting volcano, the fury welling up inside of him, ready to explode. He stormed over to the beside where his mothers embroidery was delicately placed. With blurry sight he gently picked up the stitched phoenix. Why him? Why had his mother died? Why had his father abused him so? Why had he been chosen? So many terrible things and now he was being offered a chance for his death to be shown for all to see. He was lost in the darkness, being beaten from all sides and there was no escape. But he did have a purpose. Avalon. She didn't deserve to die, he on the other hand did. There was nothing left for him.

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Avalon Shire

Step after step. She had witnessed everything set into its place, falling in love with the Capitol's trap, playing their games, the distress she had felt before began to encroach over her body again. The alarm she had been experiencing followed her everyday, morning and night, day after day, beginning when her name flourished out of Monsharia's throat. Her breath became quick, faster and faster before each short moment. Avalon noticed she would never be able to process what was happening in her simple life.

Simple wasn't a word anymore. What was simple? Avalon didn't even know.

Confusion, terror, fear, hatred, love. The expressions that filled her mind throughout the moments that passed her with a violent embrace. The lump in her throat became larger, now blocking her breathing. Will it ever stop? She paused in her thoughts. No. Avalon was falling, falling into a distance of reality. Was reality a skit now? Was Avalon playing the assigned part? What was real...?

"Oh goodness, I can't believe how amazing that was! Avalon and Vittorio, geniuses of time!" Monsharia chirped in her melodic tone, turning towards Slade in a chatter of agreements. Avalon just stood there, staring at her reflection across the elevator's glass doors. The pit in her stomach enlarged, causing an excrutiating pain that furnished inside of her skin. She wanted to scream, the Capitol's disease wouldn't terminate her yet,

though she knew she was breaking.

But there comes you,
to keep me safe from harm.
There comes you,
to take me in your arms.


Avalon's eyes amplified. She heard her mother's voice fill her mind, the sweet rhythm burning like fire in her ears. Her hands tightend, curling each finger into a dense clasp until the pressure burned. She wanted to go home.

"Daddy, where did mommy go?" The child curved her arms around her father's leg, binding her hands to meet each other. The man stared at the mantle, studying the picture intensly with a stern grasp. Avalon was frightened, she had never seen him so serious before. The woman in the frame was truly beautiful, with long bown hair like her daughter's. The child let out a smile, "Daddy, why are you staring at mama's picture like that?"

"Because, Avalon, " He still observed the picture. "She's going away for a while. You're all I have left now."


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Over the course of the past few minutes, Avalon had taken an oath to silence. The fork she was now twirling was now being taken in by her mind. The lining of the utensil had green edges with curls that curved to the bottom, and the many circles floating around the fork contained multiple colors. She let out a small sigh to herself. Anything to keep me away from this conversation... She looked up from the polished bread structure that spiraled across her plate. She wasn't in the mood for eating, nor conversation. She propped her elbow against the table, ignoring the once respected manners Monsharia had graciously given her, different from District 8's lucid set of manners. Slade raised his eyebrows towards Avalon with a slight smirk. His hair was not as perfected today, she realized it was probably caused from the stress that encircled the situation. He took the wine glass that sat next to him, and gracefully raised it in the air, still staring at Avalon, and drank. Was he congratulating her? No need for that... She rolled her eyes, looking towards Monsharia, with her now yellow shaded baldness. She went on about how training began tomorrow, and how her "wonderful tributes" would need to be prepared. Avalon couldn't help but overhear her and the obnoxious tone that came along with it her voice, Felica wasn't helping either. Ostro just sat there, eating.

"Vittorio where are you going?-" Monsharia stopped her chatter to watch Vit leave from the celebration.

"Not hungry."

Avalon watched him leave. A pang of sadness whipped through her. She wanted to run to him, take away all of his pain and fill it in her body instead. Her hands slightly gripped the tablecloth, pressing against it.

The door slammed.

Somehow, Vittorio made Avalon feel safe. He filled her with comfort, lead her to a place where District 8 still lingered. She shook.

She had to be there for him too.

"Maybe I should bring him back-" Ostro stood up from his chair, pressing his weight against his hand on the elegant table.

"No." Avalon spoke.

"No?" Monsharia turned towards Avalon, pausing with a shift of her seat. "Avalon, you don't have authority over Vittorio-"

"No."

An awkward silence captivated the room. Avalon stared at the opposite wall across from her, taking in it's features.

"Avalon..." Felica growled under her breath, now showing the seriousness Avalon had once observed before.

"No!" Avalon stood up from her chair, pounding her fist next to the plate, causing the bread structure to slightly crumble. "He has complete authority over himself! You do not, nor do I!"

She pressed her palm against the chair, pushing it back before it met the mantle above her. She quickly paced towards her room, making sure she didn't meet the disgust on everyone's faces.

______________________________________________________________

She screamed. Inside of her pillow, of course.

"Damn it!" Swapping her body to turn the opposite direction, Avalon forced her foot down into a fretful kick. As always, no emotion had met her face. She didn't care what they had to say anymore, how could it become any worse? "Just go to sleep." Avalon usually slept when something horrible had occured, she didn't like thinking directly about the event.

So, she drifted of.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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#, as written by Adantas
Face down on the bed, he was close to unconsciousness, but then he heard the faint sounds of someone yelling. Through the thick door it was muffled but he could just make it out as Avalon. What had happened? He propped himself up on his elbows, eyes still bleary, and turned to face the door. He couldn't make out the words but whatever she was saying, she said it passionately. As the room settled back in to silence, so did he lay back down. A sudden wave of exhaustion engulfed him and soon he couldn't even keep his eyes open. Soon was drifting off into a restless slumber, thoughts filled on what Avalon had said.

They were in a room, in was pitch black but they glowed like they were standing in the sun. He felt weightless, floating helplessly trying to reach for her. He kept trying to move forward, paddling and thrusting himself, anything to simply move him. His stretched out his arm, fingers extended, millimeters away he could feel the tips of her fingers. Looking into her face, he saw her screaming something, warning him. It seemed so important, like her life depended on him hearing her message, but he was deaf. No words left her mouth that reached his ears. It tortured him to no end. Then, an eruption from the blackness and President Snow stood like a giant before them, his unnaturally white teeth glowing in the blackness, and his crooked fingers, swooped up Avalon like she was nothing more than a doll and despite Vit's furious thrashings he couldn't move, couldn't do anything to stop Snow from dropping her into his ghastly maw.

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He was exhausted, he had struggled to get out of bed but it was only Slade barging in and physically pushing him out that moved him. The nightmare had taken a lot out of him. Standing there now listening to the trainer addressing them all was taxing, he couldn't concentrate. His eyes drifted around the group, surveying each tribute, something to put his mind to. They were all threats, all potentially killers. That was his task in these training sessions, not only honing his own fighting skills but watching and learning about the others. The woman had finally stopped talking and Vit's attention drifted back to her. Her words seemed unimportant. Instead, the tension he felt inside of him was building up and causing his muscles to burn. He needed to hit something. A clenched fist wasn't good enough, he needed something hard that he could take out his anger and frustration. Avalon was still beside him, he hadn't spoken to her all morning and while it made him slightly guilty he already found it hard enough to stop from getting attached to her. If he was going to protect her and ensure her the victory then that would mean he had to die and if she had feelings for him then that would prove only more difficult to do so. He wanted to create distance, so as the group dispersed he went straight to the punching bags without a word to her. He had to be strong, he had to be fast and most importantly he had to be cunning.

At the punching bags there was a trainer who gave him a silent nod. He handed him some white bandage to wrap around his hands. As he was doing so, Vit turned his head slightly, eyes scanning to look at the others but mostly to find Avalon. His guilt grew as he caught her eye but in a moment he was already turning away. Hands bound he began to punch, left, right, left, right. With each beat his punches grew harder and faster. All his anger, his hatred and his guilt poured into beating the bag. He was so focused on the task that it wasn't until the trainer who had been holding the bag released it so he could grab onto Vit's wrists to make him stop. Vit gazed down at his hands and found that red was seeping through the white bandages, his knuckles bloody. And it hadn't even been ten minutes. He sighed and began to unwind the material. The trainer told him that he should instead go work on swords instead. There was a strange look in the trainers eyes and Vit glared at him, it was all he could do from spitting an accusation at the harmless man. Another glance around to make sure that he didn't go near where Avalon was training and so deemed safe he headed over to where there was a trainer helping a district six girl. He looked younger than him but seemed natural at wielding a sword. So for the rest of training Vit sparred a bit with the girl and the trainer, before moving onto weights and some survival techniques. Somehow he had managed to avoid Avalon who ever so often he caught sight of, her expression filled with confusion and a hint of worry.

It had been a long day and Vit was thoroughly worn out. Unfortunately on the way back to their rooms there was no way to avoid Avalon, but he wouldn't be the first to talk. He couldn't do it and he would much prefer her to hate him that have her break her heart when he died.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Avalon Shire Character Portrait: Vittorio Delegarce
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Avalon Shire

The piercing screams began to unfoil through Avalon's ears. Her movements were slow to fit the now disinclined motion that filled the apprehensive situation. Her eyes drifted upon the arrow that sped above her shoulder; she took in each ripple of air, hoping it wouldn't pulse through her aching skin. Her pupils were vast, gathering the surroundings around her while her heart throbbed against her tense chest. The sweet smell of pine turned into a scent of burning air, creating a crisp sense to everything in the area. Her shoe pressed against the breaking ground beneath her, jolting her body with each step into the ambience above. The thoughts of adrenaline skipped across her mind when she started running faster with each pace. Darkness began to swarm aginst her sore body, wrapping her into a bed of endless slumber. Her knees hit the ground as a sharp tingle of pain ran against her spine. Her eyes closed, accepting the fate that overtook her. No more darkness.

The turmoil inside of Avalon created a shrieking wail that escaped her lungs. Pressing her palms against the sheets, she jolted upward, now breathing laboriously. Sweat coated her face, indicating the inner horror that bursted from the nightmare. The rise and fall of her chest faded when she realized her setting was now reality, not a place of fear. Her eyelids shut when short breaths of air folded across her lips. Her head turned, revolving her eyes to examine the room. It was still the same, white drapes were slung above the gleaming windows, and the elegant fragrance still lingered in the air. Her fingers contracted the soft textured blankets below her in an action of worry.

It was going to be a long day.

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"This is an underground gymnasium filled with training stations and obstacle courses where the you prepare and practice for the challenges in the arena. The training stations spaced throughout the center are based on different skills that may be useful in the arena, including knot tying, identifying edible plants and insects, camoflauge, and practicing with weapons. Experts are placed at each station to instruct and serve as training partners to the tributes, but you are forbidden to fight each other before the Games actually begin." The nimble woman stood there, explaining the view of the training center. Avalon observed her, she was a dark-skinned woman with black hair tied back in a loose ponytail and dark eyes. Her training outfit has the Capitol seal visible. Unlike most Capitol citizens, she looked normal to a modern or district-oriented perspective. Avalon studied the gymnasium, eyeing each of its features now. It was a modern area, like most in the Capitol, but with a quiet function in the air. Avalon stood, standing tall without character. She didn't want to look interesting, but strided for intimidation against her enemies, though, she shook within herself. Her attention was now aimed towards the actual tributes, who stood there with pride and glory marked across their faces.

She was a snack.

"23 of you will be dead soon enough," The woman went on, jolting Avalon back to focus. "Most of you will die of natural causes, or stupid mistakes. Don't ignore the skills in order to-" Avalon ignored the woman, still watching the tributes. The careers were in a cluster, likely ignoring the woman as she was. The District 2 male stood there, his eyes crossing the rest of his prey. Beside him stood the District 2 female tribute along with the District 1 male and District 3 female, smiling with each other. Avalon's heart began to beat quicker, then she tried to calming herself. All efforts didn't seem to be working.

"Remember to be strong Avalon, you look like a weakling compared to the rest of the tributes." Avalon had remembered Slade's wonderful comment this morning in the elevator on the way to the training center. She now realized he was right, and tried to stay as focused as possible.

"Good luck." The woman turned, heading towards the gamemakers that would now be observing each of the tributes. Avalon stood there while many of the other tributes dispersed amongst the gymnasium. Her chest tightened.

Vittorio.

She wanted to watch him, make sure he was alright, protect him in any possible way. A different feeling bursted inside of her each time she saw him- and she couldn't explain why. Confusion was the usual emotion when she thought of Vittorio, especially today. Why is he avoiding me? He had kept a distance from Avalon all throughout the day, making sure he wouldn't connect through her path of thoughts. Somehow she wanted to guard him from harm, make sure he was always there. He was the only one she cared about in the Capitol, one of the few she actually cared about anywhere. She watched him pace his way towards a punching bag that hung from and iron rack. Maybe I did something... Avalon bit her lip. She always did something. The pressure pounded against her heart as heaviness approached it. Avalon decided she would stay away from him, make him feel alright and safe away from her confusing moods.

He didn't need her, she needed him.

The thought shocked her. She instantly ignored it, now targeting what was really happening outside of her mind.

______________________________________________________________

The strokes of the paint brush flowed across Avalon's hand in tiny circles. Painting helped Avalon think, one of the few things that actually helped her think. It reminded her of District 8 because of the designs she used to create for many weaving patterns. She smiled to herself, looking content for once. The muddy mixture as a substitute for paint cracked above her hand as she flexed it, making it actually resemble dried dirt.

"District 8?"

Avalon whipped her head around, meeting the emerald eyes before her. Words tried to escape her throat, but it felt dry, reminding her of the dirt that lined her hand.

"What?" There was a pause. "Are you- a mute?" A smile was plastered onto the girl's face. She was quite beautiful, with flowing blond hair and a long, lanky body. Her full lips pursed into a frown as her eyes met Avalon's hand. "You think you'll win with some dainty painting skills?" The girl folded her arms. Avalon recognized her as the girl from the career pack earlier. Great, She thought, This is going to cause trouble. The blond girl gave a slight wink and turned away from her, wiping the braid across her back in a swishing motion. She whispered over her shoulder, "Good luck with that, District 8." The girl walked towards the rest of her group, who were now exchanging quiet chuckles of laughter. Avalon bit her lip, now forcefully grabbing the handle connected to the sink, washing her hand quickly. She eyed the girl who was smirking towards her. You're on my list first, weakling. Avalon imagined her saying. Vittorio stood there, punching his anger and frustation out on a punching bag, causing his knuckles to be bloody.

Avalon couldn't take this any longer. They were better than them.

She hurridly walked towards the throwing knife station. When she reached it, the silver blades rubbed against her skin, making a small opening of blood. Avalon observed it, now raising it to a normal position. I still have this in me. The targets above her stood still, waiting for her to throw. With a small flick of her wrist, the blade flew past her eyelids with a ripple of air, just like in the nightmare. Each hit was a success for Avalon when they pierced through the foam of the targets. She gave a slight smile and turned to the career girl who stood there, arms folded with a stern look across her face. Avalon couldn't believe what had just unfolded in the course of a few minutes. Had she really gotten the courage to do that?

Good luck, District 2.


______________________________________________________________

The elevator ride back to their quarters was awkward. Avalon hadn't muttered a word when she stood beside Vittorio. She avoided him, as he did, though she fretfully wanted to say in truth what she was feeling.

Would it ever happen?

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