Annie Cresta | Victor of the 70th Hunger Games (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
treadswater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ten_fwd2015-10-02 10:03 am
treadswater) wrote in ten_fwd2015-10-02 10:03 am
Entry tags:
Holodeck - OTA
Each victor is expected to have a talent, something that they now have the freedom to do - and something to talk to the journalists. Annie had picked glass-making. Nothing to do with anything in her previous life, and something it'd take time to learn. Time being something she had all too much of.
She'd wound up actually being good at it. She'd wound up loving it. She'd make things, sell them to the Capitol and to the merchants in District Four. There are better glassmakers in District One, but madness does lend itself to artistic allure, it seems.
She misses it. The running her own tiny business, yes, but mostly the making things. The execution of a craft she's earned burns from. The ability to create.
Finally, she's missed it enough to go to the holodeck and try and create a studio. Not hers, that'd confuse her too much and anyway, this is a chance to have the kind of kilns she never could. But a studio. Fully equipped, nicely lit, manuals for the kilns and furnaces. Space. Space to move. No teacher.
She's not quite up to actually trying to make a cup again, but if anyone walks in, they'll find her either arguing with the computer over technology-levels, working out how this particular equipment works, or inspecting the supplies.
Or, possibly, twirling the poles to get used to the movement again.
She'd wound up actually being good at it. She'd wound up loving it. She'd make things, sell them to the Capitol and to the merchants in District Four. There are better glassmakers in District One, but madness does lend itself to artistic allure, it seems.
She misses it. The running her own tiny business, yes, but mostly the making things. The execution of a craft she's earned burns from. The ability to create.
Finally, she's missed it enough to go to the holodeck and try and create a studio. Not hers, that'd confuse her too much and anyway, this is a chance to have the kind of kilns she never could. But a studio. Fully equipped, nicely lit, manuals for the kilns and furnaces. Space. Space to move. No teacher.
She's not quite up to actually trying to make a cup again, but if anyone walks in, they'll find her either arguing with the computer over technology-levels, working out how this particular equipment works, or inspecting the supplies.
Or, possibly, twirling the poles to get used to the movement again.
no subject
Lacey looks around her, at the studio, the tools, and thinks about it for a moment longer before it comes to her suddenly.
"Glass-making, isn't it?" she says, punctuating the question with a slight arch of her brows. Trying not to seem too interested, although she may or may not actually be succeeding.
If Annie seems defensive, well, Lacey's hardly going to begrudge her that. She's not exactly relaxed, either, though her posture is nonthreatening and her hands are clearly visible at her sides.
no subject
But it's something. And it's something she's genuinely good at. Her works always sold well, the lure of artistic madness lending a form of prestige. But underneath that, Annie's got a good eye for colour and the surreal, a steady hand to turn glass, to paint it, to keep it even as she twists and pulls and manipulates.