o.
"don't know if i hate you or if i wanna
date you
put you in a bodybag instead of my bed"
in which two bloodthirsty careers find that they are each other's obstacle in the way of the victory.
the seventy-fourt...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Saying that Freya was put under pressure was an embarrassing understatement. Velvet and Opal, poised to keep their status, only produced one child. Strategically, they thought that more children meant more room for error and even the smallest mistake in their eyes would hurt their reputation. Freya: their only chance to have a Victor. Their daughter trained and primed until flawless because anything less than would be shameful. That's all she heard her whole life: be perfect. Don't mess up.
There was no room for error and Freya learned that lesson from birth. If her subconscious didn't guilt her into being exactly who she was made to be, her parents reminded her often enough. Emotions were a weakness. Imperfection was unthinkable. Freya was the top student at the Academy but even that didn't meet her parent's expectations. The desire to be the best was evident in her scores, her proficiency with weapons, her everything. She made herself the best. Putting in the work, training overtime, dealing with the social events the Westwoods hosted. Famously, she has a reputation to uphold.
Freya knew she was the best. And her ego maybe was more evident than her beauty at first glance. Arrogance seemed to be an admired trait in One, and Freya met this requirement like she did with everything else. That's why, in a few minutes, she would volunteer for the 74th Hunger Games before she met the standard Career age of 18. It is also why she knew she would come out as Victor.
The girl is the opposite of anxious when Candor, the escort for One, struts out of the illuminated stage before the Justice Building. In classic One fashion, the stage is a fabulously shined gold with the sea of citizens cloaked in silks in furs. Artificially white teeth smile back at him as he starts up to the microphone. His hair is so metallic that it's highly possible it's truly gold spun into a wig, but Freya does not question it. Setting her shoulder square and chin high, she knows she looks incredible in her designer dress. Compliments flurry around her (of course, who wouldn't want to win a Westwoods favor?) but they are discarded with curt 'thank you.' Family honor was to be upheld at all costs. Being kind to people of lesser status would enrage her parents.
"Welcome, welcome, to the reaping of the Seventy-Fourth annual Hunger Games!" Candor announces, earring a boom of applause from the jumping audience. Freya stays cool around them as brings her slender, manicured fingers into a clap.
With a small height advantage, the girl has a clear view of the stage. The way she holds herself brings her taller than the rest. Her whole life has been for this moment. Freya practically dances with joy as Candor recites the history of the Dark Days. Her mind is brimming with all the ways to win once she enters the arena. Of how the crowd will be shouting her name once she's on the stage with Caesar.
Once Candor fingers a slip of neat paper, Freya's tongue is buzzing as the words beg to be released. As the escort opens his mouth, before he announces the name, Freya gives into her desires and confidently shouts, "I volunteer!"
