Aaron’s Parade- Draped in Winter’s Wrath.

Instructions

(Notes underneath N&C! For the mods, there is a line to mark where the parade actually starts so you can judge it from there) “Hello, citizens of Panem!” Aaron stared blankly,his teal eyes lightless in the city of lights, with a drifting gaze onto the mildly-warm paper. Freshly printed black ink had made its marks. Its lingering scent tasted of nostalgia; Newborn pigments, spattered onto one page to form coherent sentences and words.Yet these words made no sense when combined, not that it was… badly printed, rather, it was the content itself. His dorm was as quiet as a hospital ward, as it had been for the last few days. Every day marks his eventual death, a countdown. Bestowed with the curse of being able to feel,to see the world as it was. A terminal illness, gifted by the world,signed “sincerely, the Capitol.” “…Aaron- Aaron Sage here, dropping from the streets of district 5!” He echoed these meaningless words again and again, and he questioned the purpose of such silly remarks the longer that this went on. What was the point of anything? Of…living? What is the point of living anymore if he'd perish anyway? What *was* the point of life? “…From your one and only victor-candidate.” … Crouching awkwardly in his fancy sleigh,which was too large for an average cat like him, he flicked his now well-decorated, and freshly-curled tail unapologetically like a broom behind the curtains. The capitol and him are no good match. He hated the noise that flashes like a celebration, when it was in fact a funeral, an open casket, showing them in all their final glory. But there was no grieving. There were no families in despair apart from the tribute’s own ones. Three cheers, a call to a celebration, and responses will roar in a heartbeat. It was a spectacle with a circus of clowns. Except the crowd would no longer reply if it was a call to rebellion, a call to aim the sword to who it should aim at. “District 5 tributes! Your time is now! Go out there, and just show yourself to the crowd!” Said one of the visibly younger assistants, whose name he did not know of. The wildly frantic energy that radiates from the recent-academy graduate (As they have claimed) made the experience to be simultaneously more miserable and bearable. At least, to some degree, it was obvious that they have been busy throughout the last few hours, from taking a quality check on the clothes, to helping tributes of various builds to be able to get on the sleigh, after all, most of them have only seen a sleigh on TV. /// vvv Where the actual parade happens (Note to mod) /// Perhaps what was most peculiar about this experience was the sheer amount of fabrics used- Which really tell you much of what the Capitol is like in general: A fashionable cape, sewn to the finest it can be, possibly from district 8,tied together with a ticket-like pin. One eye, covered with shades of golden, like trickling ichor, which shone more brightly like a diamond than his actual eye. In front of himself was a delicately made drum set. With various instruments designed to be able to be played with one paw. cymbals and drums, of various sizes stuck out prominently above the sled. A bright blue electric guitar, resting at the side of his seat. Horses, one mildly brown, like the copper coils used back home, and one white, pearly snow glistening on its back. He’d wondered if the capitol had cared for them at all. Wreaths of new green holly leaves and other assortments dangled loosely on both sides - Still, his point still remains. It was a funeral, it was an open casket, a living memory. “Are we ready, tributes? Let’s roll!” A flurry of applause erupted immediately as soon as he and his fellow tributes were on their way. Jingles of laughter and applause, without the slightest hint of sadness. The festivity spirit was at its peak. His mic brushed up against the chin,secured by tape.Holding tightly to the tiny sheet of prompt. He tapped on the microphone gently and began to speak. “Hello, citizens of- “ He loosened his grip, and it was a mistake. It was a mistake that he should’ve prepared for. The paper flew, like a mere piece of falling snow. It landed on one of the horses, which allowed him to take a break for a second or two. Until the white horse on the right stepped over the already- fragile paper into pieces. He despaired in silent agony. What was he meant to be doing? “…Uh huh.” Was the only noise he could conjure out. Improvise, Aaron, improvise! “Um,anyways. Hi, I’m- I’m Aaron Sage.” He said with his chest upright, and a stiff smile that was very obviously forced. He’d wish he’d stop doing that, and so he did. But without apologising first in his mind. “Aaron Sage Osborn, of district 5!” He raised his voice in order to gain the attention- And he did; He wished that they’d be able to hear it back home, too. Will his brothers be proud of him? Will they grieve? Will he be proud of himself for once?