open rp post

[wunderkind]

an open rp post
(it is what it says it is)

-1-
pick a character

-2-
leave me a comment. maybe a scenario, maybe an AU scenario, maybe a picture, maybe a word,
maybe a request to resume old game canon, maybe just a comment.
i don't care. do your worst.

-2a-
helpful note: i am currently obsessed with the Hunger Games and Christmas. can you combine those into one tag?

-3-
let's get it on



disclaimer: we probably won't get it on
+ there are no promises i will take this seriously

Comments

[axeyou]

[She laughs, short, with a little edge to it, and her grin is all teeth--but in her eyes, she means it. Who knows why she's let herself become fond of stupid prettyboy Finnick Odair, in her own fucked-up way. She can guess at it, but that involves a lot of deep thinking, which Johanna would really rather not do. No good comes out of that.

So instead, she just grins at him, like maybe she really is going to split his face with an axe.]

And ruin your good looks? Come on. I have to have something to look at, at these idiotic parties.

[She knows his story. Sometimes she wonders what it would be like, to talk to him without both of them smiling through these acts. God, that's a stupid thought. Maybe once she really was a shaky little Victor after all.]

I don't remember anything about mine. Just a lot of noise and colors, and I kept eating, and I was wearing this hideous dress with a high collar. A lot like this one, actually.

[She tugs at the offending collar in question, and rolls her eyes.]

Can we trade stylists? At least yours was born in the last thirty years, and doesn't keep wrapping you in treebark.

[fuckingsecrets]

You'd rather be stripped and shown off?

[He tilts his head, a smirk on his lips.]

I thought you refused to be a sex object. Have a change of heart?

[axeyou]

I'd rather wear something that isn't trying to choke me to death.

[She tugs again at her collar, scowling. The truth of his words is sad, for him, but Johanna doesn't have a lot of time for pity. They are what they are, what they've been made to me. The roles that they play keep them alive. Whatever that's worth.]

And I refused on their terms. I might choose to strip and show off myself. We can dress to match. What do you think?

[fuckingsecrets]

Fishing and lumber? It could work. Have your people call mine.

[The words are a little too false, but they're meant to be that way; a private bitter joke between the two of them. Finnick grins again, bright, and then nods toward the new victor.]

Bet you five he'll vomit soon.

[axeyou]

[She matches that grin--hers is a different sort of bitterness, of course, a little fiercer, but they're matched. And maybe the bet is a bit cruel. But they're Victors of the Hunger Games. Of course they'er a bit cruel, and jaded.]

How soon is soon? I'll take your five, and I'm giving him... three minutes.