Thread: Love Amongst a Death Match ((Blair && Moon Struck Fox))

The room was loud and buzzing with chatter, music from the string orchestra on the stage echoing through the crowd. Hundreds of people talked, laughed, and danced. Everyone was dressed in either a custom tailored tux or ball gowns, holding champagne glasses and presenting themselves like nothing short of royality. The lighting was warm and attractive, the golden decorations and furniture were lavish and expensive. The atmosphere was anything but boring. All of the tributes were treated and healed of injuries from the previous round in the arena. They had been dressed by the Capitol's finest stylists, dolled up be the most talented of makeup and hair stylists, and their gowns and tuxes cost a small fortune each. All of the girls wore bright colors, all of the men wore tailored suits. If someone didn't know better, it would have looked like they were enjoying themselves. It would have looked like they were as happy as can be in their pretty dresses that were supposed to say something about their personalities something that linked them to the character that the Capitol citizens saw them as. Aurora, however, stepped out in a daring black dress that she was forced into. It was form-fitting all the way to her thighs, then loosened as it fell to the floor. It left her looking curvy, despite the starvation she had encounter not days ago, and seperated her from the other tributes by a long show. Not because she looked better, but because she looked jut as dangerous there as she did in the arena. Hair fall down her back in waves instead of a innocent up-do, her lips panted red instead of pink. The stylists had an obvious angle for the surprisingly threatening girl. They said they wanted her to seduct the crowd, yet remain a mystery, hence the color of her dress. She was a walking wild card, a person who the Capitol men wanted in their bed and the tributes wanted dead. However, Aurora felt insecure. She was not this seductive, mysterious girl that everyone wanted her to be what her character was. She was simply scared, worn down by the Games. She was quiet, always had been, and now her silence was looked upon as manipulation. Of course, she did play the game well so far. People had doubted her, but she was a fighter. She wanted to get home to her family. She wanted to suvive for them, and only them. But ever since she picked herself to go into the arena that faithful day, ever since she was marked the top killer in the Games, every since she murdured her own district partner a boy who grew up just down the block from her in order to get away from his dangerous grasp on her neck, she was marked as some one to watch and to be aware of. And judging by the looks of her fellow tributes, they were already planning a way to finally get rid of her. She wondered if people realized how scared she was, just like the rest of them. That when they said her name with venom in their voice they knew that her name came from her mother's favorite childhood fairytale. Walking straight over to a waiter with champagne on his tray, her heels clicking against the marble floor, she grabbed a glass and downed it. She would need alot of alcohol to get through tonight and the rest of the intermission, that was for sure.