District 12-
Rosa Martie 15 and Woody Nut 14
Rosa Martie (and Miles) 15 POV
Rosa
My outfit is rather strange. Half of it is a black shimmering dress that reaches to about mid-thigh. It has a few ruffles at the bottom that is perfect for swishing around and I amuse myself by twisting in my seat and watching it turn. The other half of my outfit is a simple tuxedo, perfect for Miles. I have makeup on the side of my body that's wearing the dress and a red bow in my hair.
"Do you like your tuxedo Miles?" I ask lightly, waiting for him to stop sulking enough to answer.
"No, I hate it, shut up," he responds moodily.
"I love my dress," I say to him but he ignores me and continues sulking.
"… Rosa Martie!" shouts Caesar Flickerman from onstage. "And Miles," Miles mutters, "No one remembers Miles." I hate it when Miles is sad. He's never happy, but I rather him annoyed than sad. "Our stylist remembered you!" I gesture to our tuxedo as I walk on stage.
Miles
"How are you doing Rosa?" Caesar asks, taking our hand in both of his. I want to yank it away but stupid Rosa leaves it there until he lets go. "I'm wonderful!" she giggles, spreading our arms wide and wiggling our fingers. Stupid, simple-minded child.
Not to be forgotten, I add, "Yeah well, I'm doing rotten, thanks for asking." Caesar's eyes widen slightly when he hears me speak, but he quickly composes himself and ignores me as if I said nothing. Gaining control of our body for a moment, I offer Caesar a quick wink. The color drains from his face and he stammers out another question. I almost laugh; people are so easily frightened by what they don't understand.
"Wha- what an interesting, ah, outfit, you have Rosa, what is the, ah, purpose of the tuxedo?" I can feel Rosa getting ready to answer, but I answer before her. "Why for me of course." Caesar makes a face and asks, "And who are you?"
"Miles," Rosa and I say at the same time, earning another quick face from Caesar. Any doubt that Rosa was a crazy girl just faking it was removed when her high voices blended with my raspy, deep voice, making a chilling combination.
"I'm sorry; well I'm sure no one will forget you now!" Caesar says faking sympathy and earning a few hoots from the audience. "That's great!" Rosa says, brightly, "Miles is always sooo grumpy. It'll be nice for him to get a bit more attention." I bristle at Rosa's comment and snap, "I don't need attention. I just want people to stop ignoring me like Mr. Flickerman did earlier."
I gave Caesar the stink eye and he clears his throat, looking uneasy. "Well, that's really all we have time for. Good luck to you, Rosa Martie and Miles!" Caesar says, emphasizing the 'and', and rushing us off the stage. I scowl at the audience and Rosa giggles and waves. I struggle against her consciousness trying to get her to stop acting like a 2 year old and vowed that one day I would take over our body and Rosa would be the one without any control.
Woody Nut 14 POV
Sitting backstage waiting for my psychotic district partner to finish her/his interview was so boring. I just wanted to get this over with and start the Games. The Games that would end my short, tragic life. Caesar practically threw the girl off the stage and they called me up, you could visibly see how relieved Caesar was, hoping for a normal child to be next. Sorry to disappoint.
"And let's give a warm welcome to our final tribute! From District Twelve; Woody Nut!" The crowd cheers and I hop on stage. My mood ring changes to a deep green, anxious, and I passes my finger over it, showing a picture of my late family.
"Woody! How are you doing on this fine evening?" Caesar asks, shaking my hand and smiling brightly, his purple lips setting off his white teeth. I shrug as I sit down, and scan my surroundings. The Capitol really is beautiful, I think. Out of the window just beyond the audience the city sparkles like a million diamonds. Alive with beautiful activity and excitement. If I survived the Games I would have loved to stay here, and watch the lights and the people in the streets, live there full and happy lives. But that won't happen, my future actions will ensure that.
"Man of few words I see," Caesar says nudging my shoulder good-naturedly. I shrug again. "You've set a Hunger Games record and made history with your training score. Exactly what did you do to receive a zero?" Amusement hides behind his serious tone. "I sat on the floor and waited until they let me go," with another shrug I lean farther back into my seat and cross my arms.
He clears his throat, runs his hand through his purple hair, and tries again, "So what is your strategy for the Games, if you're not aiming to impress with a high training score?" "I want to be killed in the bloodbath," I say matter-of-factly. "Excuse me?" Caesar splutters, "Did I hear you right?" "Depends on what you heard," I say. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did I hear you say you want to die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia?" "I didn't mention the part about the Cornucopia, but put simply, yes, that is what I said."
The crowd begins to murmur and Caesar is completely baffled. "But. Why?" I shrug, my apparently trademark shrug, and continue to stun the crowd. "My parents died in a fire when I was twelve. I've been living in hell t the orphanage for two years and I'm sick and tired of being beaten and slapped. I may be young, but I'm ready." Caesar's eyes soften but behind the pity I still see his accusing stare, I can still see how he thinks I'm crazy.
"I'm so sorry for your loss and let me tell you, we in the Capitol respect your wish to die in the honorable Hunger Games." My lip curls into a sneer, "Yeah, I bet you do." "Best of luck to you, Woody." I step off stage and wipe my brow, glad to be over with the stupid interviews. The Games start tomorrow. I'm ready to see my father, mother, and sister again.
