Happy Hunger Games - Four Picture


This is Four representing the Pyrope Garnet District! When researching this lovely stone, we found that Pyrope Garnet is often related to pomegranates, and the story of Hades giving Persephone a pomegranate often came up when researching the mythology behind the stone. Thus, the costume is supposed to be a portrayal of Hades, carrying the Pomegranate that he had fed kernels from to Persephone, so that she had to return to the Underworld with him for at least a few months of the year. The outfit also has actual Pyrope Garnets embedded in the cuffs and 'sandals', in the common clusters that so closely resemble Pomegranate kernels.

Pyrope Garnet was also used commonly in Anglo-Saxon jewelry, and the necklace is fashioned after such.

Time was moving way too slowly for Four's liking.

It wasn't that the Isabella Capo was nervous; quite the opposite. Four was fresh into his adulthood and had filled out nicely, and his training back at home was going well. He was a talented young dog, strong and cocksure, and being reaped for the Hunger Games hadn't phased him in the slightest, not even after seeing one of his kennel-mates, Dee, return from the last in what seemed to be an emotional shut down. This wasn't a serious matter to him; it was a test that he aimed to pass. A game he couldn't see himself losing, and such thoughts were exactly why time was not moving fast enough for the working-build hound - he was impatient, and eager to start.

Four had passed the training center on his way to the Stylists, and the sight nearly steered him off course. It was a gold mine for a dog like him - filled to the brim and near bursting with training courses and activities for almost every useful 'sport' that he could image. The Capo could feel his muscles quiver and tense in excitement, and a moment later he noticed he'd actually swayed in that direction. A tug on the leash by his escort brought him back to his senses, and he couldn't help but pin his ears a bit as his pace was rushed now to make up for his staring. He'd been groomed before, and from that experience, the process didn't take that long.

He didn't anticipate the obsession of these Stylists with their jobs.

If Four had a kibble for each time he almost bit one of the ladies working on him as they tugged at his silky feathered beast of a mane, he'd probably die of obesity. The first snap was met with harsh reprimand and a muzzle, and the rest were prevented by that pesky tool. An irritable growl soon replaced the fruitless biting attempts, and Four stood in irritation as he was bathed twice, brushed even more than that, blowed dry and styled and sprinkled with perfume that no one was even going to smell, other than himself and maybe his partner on the runway. And let me be the first to tell you that Four was not fond of perfume, and it only soured his mood even more. It was almost amazing how fast the dog had went from excited and eager to pissed and ornery, but perhaps a quirk like that would help him at some point in the arena.

After the Capo was 'pampered' like a french poodle, he was fit into his costume. He couldn't help but notice that it was plain... boring in comparison to some of the dogs lining up in the hall for their finishing touches, but he liked it that way. Four thought this whole costume parade was a waste, anyway - sponsors should put their money on real worth, not flamboyant clothing and accessories. None of these dogs would wear this nonsense in the arena, and none of it gave them special powers, or tilted the odds in their favor. Still, getting into costume was a lot less irriating than the original grooming process, and soon enough, Four had fallen into line with his fellow tributes, and they were presented to the crowd in a large stadium.

The light-weight silks of his outfit rippled with his movements, and the gold sash and decorate jewerly of gold and pyrope shimmered more brilliantly than the sun as the spotlight hit him, but the way the Capo moved... the heavy, but graceful stalking of a predator was what brought the feel of the Underworld to him. His neck was level with his shoulders while his lavish mane flowed like fire as he went, and his eyes never strayed from the goal of the game's host at the end of the runway. There was an unnerving focus in those enchanting blues, and the open pomegranate in his mouth oozed the kernels in which represented his District's stone, the effect made more eerie from the juice that was added into the plump fruit for the soul purpose of dripping from his maw like blood.

Hopefully, none of the other tributes would step in the small trail of fruit seeds and juice.

At the end of the parade, Four halted, standing alongside his District partner, though his eyes never strayed from where they stared up at the host.

Happy Hunger Games, they said. And may the odds be ever in your favor.
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