Glimmer was cute.
She was the kind of girl who was shown off by her mother. Bright sundresses and bows that were too large for her head resting on top of golden curls. She was stopped in the market daily by adults fawning over how adorable and big Glimmer had gotten. The perfect little girl would smile her perfect little dimpled smile and the adult would be in the palm of her still chubby hand. It was that simple.
Glimmer was pretty.
As she grew older, she leaned out. Her hair grew to curl gently along her shoulders and her skin naturally tan from outdoor training. Glimmer hated training. She was no good with the weapons and way too vain to risk hand to hand combat. She feared bruises would marr her perfect skin. She always knew what she would do: train to please her mother- a former Victor herself- and the year before her final reaping, find a handsome, strong Victor who wanted to surround himself with pretty things. Pretty things like Glimmer. And so, besotted by "love" and adoration for her new husband, she would refuse to volunteer. It was that simple.
Glimmer was beautiful.
Her hips grew wider, her waist smaller, her chest larger, her legs longer. She wore tighter clothes and swung her hips around the older groups of boy trainees. They would eye her and she would grace them, if they were lucky, with a smirk and a wink. She was desireable. She made a point to visit every male as they headed off each year, but only one returned. He was far too occupied trying to ward off the demons from his own Games to pay any attention to her. It was that simple.
Glimmer was desperate.
As her eighteenth reaping approached, she tried in vain to secure a future. Boys were too focused on the impending reaping to settle down. So, more out of fear than anything else, she trained a little harder, ran a little farther, tried a little more. When she had made up her mind to just not volunteer and live with the consequences, she immediately felt a sense of relief fill her veins. That it, until the purple haired mentor of District 1 called out her name the morning of the reaping. She stepped out of the crowd, an arrogant smirk plastered on her face, and gazed over the crowd the way a Career is supposed to, as if daring them to question her ability to win. Inside, she was in turmoil. She was a tribute. She had been reaped. She was going to die. It was that simple.
Glimmer was deceiving.
The mentors took one look at her and knew she couldn't do it, couldn't win, despite all her training. So she kissed Marvel when they were alone in the corridor. It was a desperate kind of kiss, or so she hoped it came off that way, and he was grinning when she finally pulled away for air. She leaned into him, letting her fingers trail over all the right places, brushing her hips against his in a way that would ensure he never think about another girl in quite the same way, and whispered to him that "After all, we might as well have some fun before the Games begin." Hours later, tangled in sheets but still partially clothed-she had some morals-she shared the idea that she had since the reaping, that the District 1 tributes pretend to have different personalities during the Games. With a stroke of her thin fingers and a well placed kiss, Marvel agreed with a moan. He was in the palm of her hand. It was that simple.
Glimmer was ashamed.
She scored an eight in training, low for Careers but high for her ability. How, she won't say, but it involved few weapons and even fewer clothes. Never had she felt more disgusted with herself. On interview night, she wore a predictably provocative sheer thing that left nothing to the imagination. She was sure to play up her pure sex appeal, but she knew exactly what the other tributes thought of her. Disposable. She was not a threat. It was that simple.
Glimmer was frightened.
Never before had she been so scared as when the first gong rang out over the arena. She raced for the Cornucopia and was actually able to take out another tribute with a silver arrow, despite only hitting the boy in the stomach. She could feel the other Careers watching her, wondering whether she was worth keeping around, but for now that didn't matter. She was alive. She planned to use the same tricks on Cato, the District 2 male that was her biggest threat, that she had used on Marvel. Seduction was a powerful thing. She would make him unable to kill her. Despite her best efforts however, he remained steadfastly focused on winning the Games. Sure, he flirted back, but he didn't mean it. No more than she did. He was intent on winning. It was that simple.
Glimmer was hurting.
Every nerve in her body is burning. She can hear the tracker jackers buzzing around her, stinging all exposed flesh. She can hear the others, screaming as they crash through the forest to the lake. She can hear her own desperate cries, begging them to come back, but its no use. This is a horrid way to die. Alone and disfigured and left behind. This is not the way beautiful people are supposed to die. They should go, surrounded by family and friends already mourning the loss of this shining person. She tries to bat the wasps off with the silver bow, but her efforts are futile. She was dead already, from the minute her name was called. It was that simple.
Glimmer was forgotten.
It was that simple.
Okay I typed all this up on my phone so PLEASE be forgiving of any spelling/grammar errors.
Please please please submit MALE tributes to my SYOT, and may the odds be ever in your favor. :D