INTRODUCTION ; - - - - - just a lil roleplay that i threw together for dear ragnheidr, featuring the time when she is chosen as a tribute. also she doesn’t care about making an impression because she knows she’ll never make it out alive and is kinda just chill with it. she doesn’t mind at all, really. ROLEPLAY ; - - - - - An ever-churning crowd of cats pushed and shoved against each other, the atmosphere teeming with a greedy anticipation. Among them, a tall smoke-pelted she-cat stood, eyes flashing with boredom. She knew the cats surrounded her cares not for the tributes, but of the entertainment said tributes would serve them. Ragnheidr stood in a simple outfit, nothing overly-decorated or eye-catching; a simple white shirt and a dyed-brown cotton vest on top of that, paired with a loose brown pair of pants that she had crafted herself. Why should she dress so extravagantly for something so.. mundane? Something so cruel as this? It simply wouldn’t do, in her opinion. She tuned the speaker out, eyes sweeping over the crowd. She had hardly acknowledged that her father, Bjarni, and her brother, Runar, were standing by her side, for her eyes were wandering. Suddenly a shiver ran through the crowd, indicating that a name had been called. And then another, and another, until there were five cats on the stage. One more would be called today, and they would be sent to their own individual dooms. “And finally, District 10, I announce to you the last tribute for the ninth round of the Hunger Games! Please come on up here.. Ragnheidr Berge!” Ah, so she would die after all. Such a shame. Padding carefully through the already-parting crowd, the lanky feline made her way up onto the stage. “What an interesting name you have, my dear! What does it mean, by chance?” The felidae turned, eyes flashing and voice low as she spoke, “It means ‘advice’, and more specifically, ‘bright advice’. Now, I have a question for /you/.” “And what might that be, dear?” “How much will you enjoy seeing my inevitable demise?” Ragnheidr inquired, voice unwavering as she took a decisive step forward. If this was how she was going out of the world, then Hel must have planned it as such. “W-what? Dear, you surely have a great chance of winning!” “No, I do not, I regret to inform you. Do not think to fool me with your meaningless chatter, and lead me away for this tragic place,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Yes, of course, we were just getting to that,” the speaker paused and turned to the crowd, a broad smile placed upon their lips. A terrible disguise, however. As she was led away, Ragnheidr turned back to the crowd. There, she caught a glimpse of what remained of her family. Despair danced in their eyes, tears ceaselessly streaming down their sun kissed cheeks. The family had thought they were free from grief after Ragnheidr’s sister, Sigrid, had been whisked mercilessly away to the Games. And now they would lose her, too, and she could do nothing to stop it. Emotions lingered at the edges of her mind, yet she had not a moment to dwell on them as she was pulled away. Pulled away to the end.
