The Author Games: Literature

Task Two: The Charisma of Words

Pluto adored the interviews- watching the unfortunate souls crack under pressure, seeing their terror as they were faced with yet another intrusive question, noting how their emotions raged out of control as they struggled to maintain their composure. There was a certain level of enjoyment in that for Pluto, though he could hardly imagine being on the other end. Those fateful minutes could decide who managed to survive past day one, to the final few, sometimes even the victor. The others attempted to scrape by, faced with even more challenges, and how he loved watching them twist and turn.

Of the two interviewers, Pluto was fonder of Brutus Twinkle, who consistently extracted the juiciest information out of every year's tribute harvest. Shimmer Junius, on the other hand, just made him feel... uncomfortable, to say the least, with her ditzy, naive attitude. She would surely be the first to go when Pluto was head Gamemaker.

He humphed for the thousandth time at the reminder- that it could have finally happened this year if it not for the lesser Gamemaker. She enjoyed the regular parts of gamemaking- the torture, the fighting, the death. Pluto, of course, was fond of those aspects as well, but he saw the importance in other moments in the Games. Seeing how they reacted after leaving their private training session. Watching them receive their scores, whether in joy or misery. After the first kill, if they made it that far. Observing a victor sink into the depths of what they had done. Every life cycle of a games was chopped full of so much detail, details that a certain Gamemaker tended to miss.

A superficially nonchalant aura surrounding her, the other, less important Gamemaker entered the room. Paella appeared as happy as one could look with an eternal scowl, scanning workers below. As usual, her gaze transformed to a rather unpleasant one as their eyes met. With a disappointed scoff, she broke the stare, walking over to her personal, extravagant armchair, a mirror image of Pluto's. After an eternity of silently sipping her coffee and attempting to disguise her scowl, her piercing voice engaged in a tense conversation with her.... friend? It was a term one could barely refer to them as, if at all.

"What time is it?" Paella questioned him, making zero eye contact, yet somehow retaining some attention to whatever he might be saying. She tended to be terrible at communication skills, yet still somehow managed to persuade the president to give her the position... all while most likely looking at her hands.

"Sometime around 17:00."

She glanced up from her hot drink, finally being a tad social. "Oh really?" The Gamemaker snarled. "You think I don't know that? Of course that's about what time it is- that's when the interviews start! But, they obviously haven't. Can't you give me an exact time? What is the cause of this delay?"

Pluto shook his head as he turned around, rolling his eyes indiscreetly. Paella just didn't understand the importance of everything. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for one of his favorite moments to start. It would be absolutely divine to spectate tributes etching their short futures into a diamond, so hard no cut could alter their fate.

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THE TASK:

The time has come for your tribute to be interviewed.

At first, everything appears to be going traditionally- your tribute is all decked out in extravagant Capital clothing, every bit of them styled to the point where they almost don't feel like themselves. Waiting for your turn to take the stage in a small, unassuming room lined with benches, you may study the other tributes, or perhaps attempt to prepare yourself for the questions. The room is filled with an unavoidable aura of anxiety.