A VICTOR OF THE 86-89th HUNGER GAMES. Over a decade ago, your whole family was slaughtered in penance for how you won your Games. You were never very pleasant to begin with, but your strategy — you were a sweet, soft child on the screen. Your Interview was full of bubbles and giggles. But your Arena? You brandished bloodshed with a fervor. It’s not that you were proud of this — far, far from it. No, you did what it took to go home. But where is home? The closest thing to it is the grains that threaten to suffocate you in the silos. Your innocence you sold for a ticket home, but it was the Capitol who never help up their end of the bargain.
Instead, you’re still in the Arena. For all these years, you’ve lived in the same Victor’s House. Nothing changes except the families in town. Nothing changes except the label on the liquor bottles. You thought of marrying once, but you knew that they would have just taken your children from you. There was a time, years ago, when dissenters – Rebels — asked for your assistance. You were too hooked on the bottle, too out of your wits in fear of another death, that you did not act. The rebels were hung in the square a week later, like the same children you hung from trees. Does that mean you are the same child? Afraid to lose everything, when all you had was nothing.
It is this year that you are finally able to act on your regrets. Every child that has died because you could not bring them home — their deaths mean something. Every loved one below the dirt. Every moment you spent wasting your life down the neck of a tall boy — you’ve arrived here. To your destiny. To the Revolution. Sometimes, you can taste freedom — it smells like spring. You’ll be damned if you miss its sweet breeze again.
QUICK FACTS:
THE STAR — Your relationship has always been secretive, though the implications of what exists behind closed doors are what originally brought you together. You pair have always been the darlings of the Capitol, prior to THE BERSERKER and THE HAWK. Filmed and shot together, you were working partners first, starring in pulpy, cheaply produced films that hearkened to the pre-Rebellion days. A tool of propaganda. Now, one could call you lovers, though it is up to you if that’s the truth. It is a term you are more apt to call them, but only if they cannot hear you. In the past five years, a distance has grown between you due to your Revolutionary interest. Suffice to say, you know you are to blame; maybe you fear that THE STAR will become another lost soul you could not catch in the rye before jumping off the cliffs. Fear dictates your love in a way it never used to, and they know this. They call you on it in subtle ways, especially as you can only maintain contact via facile letters and platonic-sounding phone calls.
THE AUTEUR — You have worked with THE AUTEUR in preparation for this Games. You have in-depth knowledge of what is to come, alongside THE HERMIT. It would be unfair to say that you and the AUTEUR get along — far from it. You see them for what they are, for what you are — someone who got into the Revolution far too late in the change.
THE HERMIT – You have worked together in recent years to prepare for the Revolution. The pair of you share in a good drink, and you have a friendship that has lasted years, decades at this point. They are one of the few people that knows your child. That remembers them. You don’t have many friendships. It is almost like THE HAMLET snuck up on you.