The Hunger Games discussion

The Interviews Are Now Open!

One post per character, something of a back-and-forth between them and the interviewer, who we're going to name Havinia Gradiean because that name is made from the letters that came out of my keyboard when I smashed my head on it in frustration at not being able to think of a good name on the spot. Yeah!

((How long is this going to stay open because no one has RP'd here?))

(I will but I don't have the time rn)

((I want to, but I hate being the one to start threads XD I never know how to start them))

((Lexi - this will be open for a while. You're not actually rping here, you're just making one post with the entire interview. Take a look at this thread from the last games: https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/... it should give you an example of what to do if you need help.))

Ayla wrote: "((Lexi - this will be open for a while. You're not actually rping here, you're just making one post with the entire interview. Take a look at this thread from the last games: https://www.goodreads...."

((Great thanks! I'll probably do it later tonight or tomorrow. I have a birthday celebration to have still))

//just wondering...do we have to do the interview? Or is it optional?//

kenadie ♔ wrote: "//just wondering...do we have to do the interview? Or is it optional?//"

((I think it's optional, but I'm not 100% sure))

((It’s completely optional, and it stays open for the entire games so you can take as long as you need to write it.))

//ok, maybe later in the games i will get some inspiration to write it out lol//

(alright yall it's about fucking time I finished this thing)

She could hear the crowd clapping, cheering. The wings of the stage muffled them a bit, but she knew they were waiting. Everyone was - the Capitol, the Districts, the nation.
They wanted a show.
That, she could give them.
She didn’t care about sponsors. She could win the Games on her own. She knew that the audience’s love was fickle, that their cheers meant the same whether she was their Victor or their pariah. They only wanted entertainment.
Funnily enough, so did she.
Havinia Gradiean’s voice announced through the speakers, “And now, everyone, she’s the one you’ve all been waiting for - she needs no introduction. She’s beautiful, she’s deadly, and she’s captivated every one of us with barely a look...the goddess from District Two, Naja Ashlock!”
That wasn’t her name. Not right now.
Right now, she was Arcana.
And she was here to play their Games.
The crowd hushed as she ascended the stage.
Her steps were silent on the floor despite the heavy block heel of her combat boots. Every stride was slow, measured. Predatory. She stalked toward Havinia with all the grace and intent of a prowling lynx. There was plenty of time for the audience to see her outfit, simple as it was.
In stark contrast to her chariot costume, Arcana was dressed in a simple, long-sleeved black romper, reminiscent of a combat suit. The only slight decoration on it were the triangular cutouts along the sides of the waist, accenting her long legs and agile figure.
Her russet eyes flashed in the spotlight, sharp and dangerously alluring, framed by dramatic sweeps of jet-black eyeliner. Her face was easy to see, long midnight hair styled in a simple, sleek braid down her back. Her pale skin seemed to glow against the dark colors.
The look was elegant, undecorated. Compared to her chariot armor, it was downright plain. But that was the goal - that the Capitol’s goddess wasn’t an over-the-top facade. She didn’t need flashy outfits to make a point.
Her only jewelry was the simple black pearl earrings dangling on each side of her face - and the amber ring glinting on her left ring finger. She never took it off.
It was deathly quiet in the theater as she took her seat. A beat, and then the noise and screams and applause thundered from the stands.
She waited.
A moment passed.
“Good evening,” she said, speaking before the screams and cheers died out. They hushed immediately to hear her voice. The power she had over them was so...satisfying.
She knew she was supposed to wait for things to die down before letting Havinia greet her, but that was too passive. She knew she held sway over the audience. And it didn’t hurt to have the first play.
Havinia blinked - the only sign of their surprise at being greeted first - but they recovered quickly. “Good evening, Naja,” they said, smiling jovially. “How are you tonight?”
Arcana responded simply. “All things considered, I’m doing well,” she said, a faint drawl to her voice. A hint of boredom, indicating how standard the question was. A challenge.
You don’t want to lose their attention, do you?
Of course, the audience would never look away. She just couldn’t help opening with the upper hand.
“That’s good,” Havinia beamed, as if it was the greatest news they’d ever received. Arcana felt almost sorry for them - just a pawn of the Capitol, a slave to their opinions.
“Now, as I’m sure you know, you look beautiful tonight,” Havinia said, still flashing a smile at the cameras. “Very different from your entrance.”
Well wasn’t that a predictable start. A game with all the moves laid out.
“That was the goal,” she said simply, her low voice the only sound in the room, save for some errant whispers.
“Oh, she has a plan for everything!” Havinia called to the crowd, eyes widened in dramatic awe. “So cunning!”
Arcana let the crowd scream. Let them set things up on their own. They had such adoring reactions for the smallest details, it was really quite entertaining.
“Your chariot outfit was stunning. How did you feel?”
Arcana cocked her head. “In the dress, or during the entrance?”
Havinia pursed their lips, leaning in. “Let’s say in the dress,” they challenged, making motions at the crowd as though to hush them. Unnecessary, since they were already shutting up to hear her response.
“Powerful.”
One word, about as close to the truth as she’d get during this interview.
Powerful. She had been powerful, had commanded their attention as well as she did now. She was powerful. She’d been trained to be the best, the most perfect, the greatest. She’d been shattered and had learned to use the broken pieces as blades.
But they couldn’t see that.
“Powerful,” Havinia ruminated quietly, musing over the word. “That fits. Doesn’t it?” they cried to the audience, who roared their approval.
She heard voices screaming her name, saw flashes of light from the cameras. She felt their energy, their need.
“Now, that was the dress. How did you feel during the entrance?”
Arcana leaned back in her chair, long legs crossing over each other. She lifted a brow. “Would it be boring if I said the same thing?” was her response, voice dry with faint amusement.
Uproarious laughter. There were people doubled over, holding their stomachs. Havinia’s smile was stretched too wide. It was almost amazing, really, that the Capitol could believe any of this was genuine.
“Well, I think we can all agree that you are certainly powerful,” Havinia remarked, and the crowd yelled their agreement - not realizing the true power she had. “Powerful enough to get a perfect twelve on your training score! How do you feel?”
They were expecting joy or happiness, enthusiasm at the least. Arcana merely replied, “I’m satisfied with what I got.” Nothing but ease in her voice, a simple response. She heard murmurs in the audience, surprise at how she’d merely taken it in stride.
“Really?” Havinia leaned back, their voice sounding too impressed for such an easy answer. “What if you’d gotten an eleven?” they challenged.
“Then I would have been disappointed,” Arcana said, giving the barest shrug of her shoulder.
Havinia blinked, turning to the crowd in surprise.
“So confident in her own strength!” They exclaimed, letting the audience clap before turning back to Arcana. “Speaking of, what would you say your strengths are?”
Arcana smiled slowly, burgundy-wine-glossed lips forming a small smirk. “Combat,” she said, and her voice was rich with confidence. A standard answer from a Career, but everyone was waiting with bated breath to hear what she had to say.
She didn’t say anything.
“Just that? Combat?” Havinia pressed. “Come on, give us something!”
So that was what it was like, to have them beg.
They’d be doing more of that soon enough.
“Well, that’s the only thing that matters, isn’t it?” Arcana asked pointedly. “Fighting. The Games.”
Havinia blinked again. The crowd murmured, trying to make sense of her words. They sounded like the words of a ruthless killer, but they couldn’t quite match up the tone of her voice to her answer. Their best guess was that she was out for blood.
“Do you think of it that way?” Havinia asked hurriedly, rolling with what they’d been given.
“Of course not,” Arcana said, sitting up. “What matters is that I win. And I will.” Nothing but fact in her voice, the sound of someone who’d already reached the top.
“You sound awfully confident about that,” Havinia said, almost visibly brightening as they returned to the script they’d prepared.
Just a temporary swing off-course.
“I am. I’m not here to play the Games.”
Dead silence.
“I’m here to win them.”
The crowd exploded.
Havinia was clapping, face shocked and awed. Or pretending to be.
It took minutes for the noise to die down, but when it did, Havinia had another question prepped and ready. “Now, I’m not so sure about that,” they said, voice warning and cautious.

Arcana’s head turned slightly, so that she was staring directly at Havinia. Red-brown eyes burned, her attention fully fixed. She was pleased to see Havinia’s face tighten slightly, a faint flick of their hand giving away their nerves. The sight of fear in their eyes was satisfying.
Nowhere for you to hide.
“You see, no one from your Academy has said anything about you. Usually we’d have teachers or mentors already selling tales of their Tribute before the Reaping,” Havinia pointed out. “But this year was awfully silent.”
Arcana’s face was impassive. Her Academy had no idea what had happened to her after they’d cast her out onto the streets, a broken, slightly mad girl of fifteen. It was unlikely they’d do any selling for her, whether or not her Reaping was rigged. They wanted her to fail.
They had no idea the blood that stained her hands red, the things she’d done to take it all down.
“I think they know I can speak for myself,” she said coldly.
Pure shock.
Audible gasps and ooooohs and some cheers from the audience.
Havinia turned to the cameras, mouth a perfect O.
“You can, indeed,” they admitted, inclining their head to Arcana.
A moment of quiet as Arcana didn’t respond, perfectly content to stretch the tension.
“So,” Havinia said sharply, breaking the silence, “I suppose we’ve established your strengths. What about weaknesses?”
Arcana let out a low laugh - amused, but almost threatening. A knife’s edge hidden by amusement. “I don’t plan to reveal my weaknesses to everyone,” she replied.
“A cautious strategy,” Havinia observed.
“Is it cautious?” Arcana asked archly, crossing her arms with easy calm. “Not letting my weaknesses be used against me?”
She’d made that mistake once, and she’d learned well from it.
“Who would be using them against you?” Havinia said with a forced chuckle, but few in the crowd laughed along. Most of them were leaning in, hoping for drama.
“Oh, didn’t you know?” Arcana said with precise lightness, each word a game. “There are twenty-three people who want to kill me.”
Now the crowd laughed, and Havinia’s body relaxed slightly. Back to the planned dialogue again. Their relief was amusing.
“That’s a very good point,” they said, grinning. Too widely. “I suppose we can rest assured that you have a strategy to get through the Games.”
“Get through?” Arcana arched a brow. “No. I have a plan to win.”
She did.
She had a plan to outlast them all.
Not just the other Tributes. The Games, the Capitol itself. She’d be the one still standing at the end of it all.
Cheers and applause echoed from the crowd, some screams.
“I love that confidence,” Havinia exclaimed. “I think you could be a Victor. Don’t you?” They cried to the audience, who responded with a rush of roaring sound.
“That’s good,” Arcana said, and the applause died out immediately. “I wouldn’t want you all to be placing the wrong bets.”
This wasn’t genuine at all.
Not Havinia’s enthusiasm.
Not the Capitol’s support.
But neither was she.
Gasps echoed through the theater. Havinia’s eyes widened.
“Isn’t she bold,” they cried. “So fearless!”
In a manner of speaking.
“But...” Havinia frowned, trailing off as if they were in deep thought. “Do you think this might be overconfidence?”
Arcana tilted her head consideringly. “You mean, am I cocky?”
Havinia nodded.
Arcana just shrugged. “I know my own limits.”
“Yes, she does,” Havinia agreed over the crowd’s applause. “One last question, Naja.”
Everything grew silent.
“How do you think you’ll win?”
Arcana eyed Havinia, her face settling into a cold, unreadable mask. Unreadable, except for the slight tilt of her lip, a corner quirked upwards for the barest moment.
“Easily.”
That was all.
Her allies didn’t matter. Whatever they were planning, whatever the other Tributes wanted, whatever the Gamemakers thought they could do...none of it changed the fact that she would win, by any means necessary. She might have been here to win the Games, but she’d do it by her own rules.
She would be the last one standing.
It wasn’t the other Tributes’ fault, of course. They hadn’t chosen to get in her way. The Capitol had sent them here, like lambs to the slaughter. But she’d been sent here too, and she would not die in that arena.
It had to be them.
Their deaths would matter.
And she would avenge them.
She’d played with knives and learned to kill. She’d climbed buildings on her own, climbed the ranks of the Academy without allies. She didn’t rely on anyone.
Not anymore.
She’d been weak, had practically offered up her weaknesses. That wouldn’t happen again.
This was how she’d survived. She’d become cold, harsh, and brutal. She regretted it, of course, but that had simply...taken a backseat. There would be time after, she told herself. After she’d won, after she’d gotten what she wanted. Then she’d have all the time she needed to piece herself back together. Remorse, mourning, punishment. She didn’t have the time for those now.
Arcana stood before the crowd could register what she’d said, before Havinia could start saying anything. It would be too awkward, she knew, to start proclaiming her exit as she walked away.
She simply strode off the stage, leaving Havinia sitting there with a stunned expression on their face - one that didn’t look entirely faked.
She didn’t smile.
She didn’t bow.
She never would.
The belated applause began as she neared the exit, delighted screams and gifts showering down. The cameras flashed frantically, lights popping in her vision. Money changed hands under all the noise, more bets being placed.
They really worshipped her.
Not that she could blame them. They’d played right into her hands. It was so easy, but so satisfying.
They were screaming her name now - the wrong one, but that didn’t matter.
She just couldn’t wait for those screams to go out.

((WHY IS THAT SO GOOD U HAVE NO RIGHT TO WRITE AS GOOD AS THAT))

((:00000 WHAT THE FUCK THAT WAS SO GOOD EXCUSE ME))

((I LOVE THAT SO MUCH OH MY GOD))

(THANK YOU GUYSSSSSSSS)

The moment Taffeta's name was announced, she stood, straightening her shoulders and lifting her head up. She stepped up to the stage. Just before she sat down, she smoothed down her extravagant gold jumpsuit and looked across at the interviewer.
"Hello, Taffeta," Havinia said, their voice full of excitement.
"Hi," Taffeta replied.
Don't sound too confident.
Havinia smiled politely. "Let's talk about the Games."
Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing?
"What about them?" Taffeta asked.
"Well, you're the tribute from District 1. One of the most consistent competitors in the Games. Isn't it embarrassing to have scored lower than Vera, the District 5 girl tribute?"
It's only one point. It doesn't make that much of a difference.
"Not really," Taffeta replied. "The scores are just a formality.”
"That may be so, but even then, Naja got a perfect 12. Doesn't that intimidate you?"
Taffeta rolled her eyes. "There's more to the Games than a number."
Havinia seemed at a loss for words.
Come on. Ask something interesting. I have to win the crowd over.
“What’s your strategy look like the moment the Games start?”
Taffeta stared at Havinia.
Are you kidding me right now?
“Survive and win, at any cost,” she answered.
That won her a few claps from the crowd, but it didn't do much. She didn’t need the sponsors to win, but she did love the attention. The spotlight was on her and she reveled in it.
“Do you have any weaknesses?” Havinia asked, changing the subject.
Taffeta kept her eyes on Havinia. “Even if I did, why would I tell you?” Her tone was light but there was a challenge to her voice.
Havinia smiled. “In the spirit of the Games, of course.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
Taffeta’s expression was mischievous--troublesome. “The only spirit that will be left in the Games will be mine after every other tribute lies dead in a pool of their own blood.”
The crowd cheered. They always loved the entertainment of the interviews, especially the ones where the tributes seemed eager to participate, even though very few of them ever were. Taffeta definitely wasn’t eager, but she had to put on an act. That’s all the interviews were. An act to gain sponsors. An act Taffeta would excel at.
“And how do you expect to accomplish that?” Havinia asked.
Taffeta smiled innocently. “My way.”
Another small cheer from the crowd.
“What skills do you have that will win the Games for you?”
“The other tributes will never see me coming.”
“How old are you again?” Havinia asked, tilting their head.
“14,” Taffeta announced proudly.
“What makes you think that you’ll beat the other tributes at your age?”
“Age is nothing more than just another number.”
“Last question, Taffeta,” Havinia said. “How do you intend to win?”
Taffeta smiled deviously. “You’ll just have to watch and see.” She stood, walking down the stage, her head held high, the crowd fired up around her.
She had come to shine, and she had succeeded.