Hello! Thanks for the reviews and submissions so far! Here's another a little prologue
Eros Creed, 32
The Capitol, 6 Months before the Quarter Quell Announcement
A brilliant fire blazed with luminous might in the fireplace of Eros Creed's home. He had made out well for himself, all things considered. And there were a lot of things to consider.
It was a certainly a mansion, but a little smaller compared to the extravagant homes that the wealthiest citizens of the Capitol so profoundly enjoyed. The predominant material of the home was wood, directly from the forests of District 7 itself. There were deep shades, light shades, and all in-between to make the mansion seem ever homier.
Eros liked it a lot. He wasn't sure exactly why. He wasn't an architecture connoisseur by any means, he just enjoyed things that weren't boring. And he certainly was bored. Ever so bored. He spent his days roaming the empty rooms and hallways, lamenting the past, cursing the present, and ignoring the future.
The furniture was minimal, but nice looking. Most of it served to be nothing more than a way to fill space. Chairs, couches, tables, and china cabinets were present at every turn. But perhaps the most notable room, for Eros, was his study or more appropriately, his drinking room.
Empty bottles of various alcohols littered the shelfs and the floor. Eros was a textbook alcoholic and he didn't care. He was a disgraced TV host, why shouldn't he let himself go? Half the Capitol was drugged up most of the time anyway. Being an addict certainly wasn't out of the ordinary, in fact, it was in fashion. Addiction was fashionable, whether it be drugs, shopping, sex, or even things like lies, cheating, and the Hunger Games themselves.
Eros never thought much the Games. He considered them to be cheaply edited audience pandering. There was no nuance. There were no surprises. It was the same old thing every year. Pathetic poor kids get forced to fight to the death in some old ritual as a reminder of a war over 70 years ago? Stupid. Plain stupid.
Many Capitolites shared this opinion, but no one would dare speak it aloud. And even those that thought the Games were a little strange would let themselves fall into the fantasy of it every year. It was easy to get into, and it was so heavily promoted on the airwaves. Eros was resentful of this. There were so many more interesting mediums of entertainment and people wanted to watch a bunch of kids cry while trying to stab each other?
Eros of course had another reason for being so resentful. He had his own show, "Cupid's Arrow." He considered it to be quality entertainment. Eros would moderate dates, set up people with hidden cameras on those dates, and even do live couple's counseling. It was a hoot. People were dramatic and easy to manipulate. Buying into the fantasy of romance wasn't hard when everything else was so meaningless.
Eros Creed did not believe in love. He believed that people would do everything they could to find escape from the knowledge of their own existence, and that meant manipulating other people and even themselves to feel something other than fear.
Naturally, this was why Eros drank. Not only was he hopelessly depressed, he'd also lost his own form of coping. "Cupid's Arrow" was important to him. He played the role of all-knowing, caring, good guy who just wanted the best for everyone. And he was a heartthrob. Women wanted him, men wanted him, everyone wanted something to do with him. And yet, Eros didn't really want much to do with them. He had fun, he had sex, he did the lot. Nothing really did anything for him, but he ignored those feelings and let himself into the fantasy of desire. But his rise also came with a fall.
The fall in question was devastating. All the public really knew was that Eros was involved rather intimately with someone. This was cause for great gossip and discussion, which greatly bothered Eros behind closed doors. People wanted to know who the proclaimed expert on love was involved with. They never did get their answer.
What they did get was a slow crash and burn of Eros Creed's career. It started with little things. An offhand comment here, a curse there. Then it was slurring words, stumbling across the stage, ranting maniacally, and vomiting onto the studio audience. "Cupid's Arrow" was cancelled and Eros was disgraced just like that.
He tried to stay relevant with appearances at parties and television events here and there, but eventually his name found its way off the guest lists. People forgot about him. They forgot about "Cupid's Arrow" and they forgot about love, or at least, Eros's definition of love.
People quickly turned back to the main event of Capitol TV, The Hunger Games. Eros quickly found resentment in it, and stopped watching all together. He didn't care about who killed who, who was really hot, and whose guts had been torn out by giant cats. He roamed his house and drank and drank to forget. Then came the 74th Hunger Games and Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.
They changed everything. Suddenly, the Capitol was obsessed with love again. After all, what else could compel two teenagers to want to take their own lives? Rebellion? Certainly not.
Eros knew better. He smelled their bullshit from a mile away. He wanted to speak about them, but no one ever contacted him for his opinion on the lovers. His image in the public eye was gone. This development only made him more enraged. While everyone was trying to get in the studio for the Victor interview and Games screenings, Eros was muttering to himself and vomiting on a particularly nice purple rug.
In just a few years he had went from one of the top people in the Capitol to a worthless nobody. He might as well be Haymitch Abernathy. If only he was Haymitch, he often thought to himself. At least Haymitch had relevance again.
Now Eros Creed laid on the floor of his study, booze in hand. He laughed to himself, wondering if he should maybe try to have a threesome with Finnick Odair and some ultra-rich Capitol girl again. Anything would do. Anything.
Just then, a doorbell shook throughout mansion, causing the various bottles to jump and jitter, clanging together.
Eros groaned. He certainly wasn't presentable. His hair was greasy and matted, his beard was out of control and he was only dressed in a stained white undershirt and a pair of tight velvet underwear.
He had just decided that he wasn't going to answer the door when the doorbell rang again. Eros covered his ears, trying to drown out the noise of the clanging bottles.
When the doorbell rang for the third time, he had no choice but to get up. He stood up rather abruptly and had to steady himself before falling back onto the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a groan.
Eros was just coming down the main stairs when the doorbell rang for the fourth time.
"I'm coming!" Eros shouted, his words cutting through the mansion.
He flung his massive front door open and stared into the night. On his doorstep stood a short boy, probably around 19 or so, with slicked black hair with a single curl in the front. His face was young and sculpted, quite attractive.
"Hm?" Eros grunted. The boy's eyes shone with surprise for a moment, and scanned Eros up and down and briefly settled at his groin.
"Ya want an autograph or something?" Eros looked at the boy dead in the face. The boy blushed.
"Uh—no sir! I just have a message for you."
The boy handed Eros a gold colored envelope. A massive wax seal was melted onto it. Eros examined it. It almost seemed to give off a glow. He ran his hands over the wax.
"This is…the President's seal." Just then, Eros noticed the white rose sticking out of the messenger's lapel. His heart dropped.
"What does President Snow want with me?"
"Sir, the letter is of the upmost importance and is quite classified. President Snow instructed I give it directly to you, in person."
"Wha?" Eros turned over the golden envelope in his hands.
"Well thanks." Eros stepped backwards and started to close the door.
"Wait!" The boy stuck his foot out to stop the door.
"Mr. Creed, the President asks that you open the letter immediately. I need to take your response directly back to him."
"What, I don't get a second to think about whatever this thing is?"
"Please just read it sir."
Eros reluctantly opened the door wide again. He stared at the wax seal and his heart sank. Whatever warranted a special message from President Snow himself couldn't be good.
He ripped the envelope to shreds and scanned the contents.
"What…are you…are you serious?" He looked back at the boy his eyes widening.
"Very, sir."
"Do I get a choice in the matter?"
"It's an invitation sir."
"But do I do get a choice?"
The boy looked directly at Eros, color starting to form in his pale face. Eros noticed sweat starting to pool on the boy's forehead.
"I guess not," he muttered. "Well, you can tell him I said yes."
The boy let out of small puff of air in relief.
"Wonderful sir! I just need your signature here." The boy produced and a paper, also a striking gold, and a pen.
Eros snatched the pen and quickly signed the document. The boy and Eros then looked at each other once again.
"Well?"
"Right sir, sorry, I'll go now." The boy turned to leave.
"Wait," Eros called. He was just drunk enough. He stepped outside beckoning to the interior.
The boy blushed severely. He glanced around at the empty street and then quickly crossed the threshold of the mansion.
Eros closed the door and smirked to himself.
Still got it.
Well there we are, the second prologue! I hope y'all actually read it, I know it's a little on the longer side for a prologue but we get to know Eros Creed, our Matchmaker and probably the main character of the story (other than the tributes of course!)
I've gotten a couple submissions so far, but of course, I still need a lot more! Form is on my profile!
I hope everyone is excited for this story because I'm feeling so fired up for it! One more prologue probably and then hopefully I can get to character intros! So, get creating!
Also, I'm a review whore so here's some questions for them:
What did you think of Eros Creed, the Matchmaker?
What did you think of this chapter as a whole?