"OK, did you ever have that moment in high school where you didn't realize you'd done something embarrassing? And everyone's stealing peeks at you or whispering softly like you're not even there? It's alot more familiar once you start to develop curves and every hormonal guy in a five yard radius is trying to see through your clothes on pure willpower."
She wiggled her eyebrows despite herself.
"Anyway, it's a bit like that. You never really know how much any particular person here knows about you because you're on TV. There are people who are paid buttloads of money to watch us and speculate on us. To talk about what we're thinking and to predict what we'll do next. There are people out there even now hunched over a computer writing sappy, sexy or just plain gross romance stories about me and other tributes who I may have never even met! And they'll post those stories online and other fans will read them and praise them and agree that "Like, Harley is totally in love with Wesker! Look at the way she smiled at him before he snapped her neck! That's love!"
She pulled a disgusted face. "For the record, if you ever meet a mentor named Wesker? He's a creep. Watch yourself."
Returning to the subject at hand.
"So there's who they think you are, who they're told you are, and all of that? It's way more important that who you are or who you want them to think you are. Because I spent months making friends in the city and all it took was for a special cuff on my arm for them to turn on me like a daytime talk show audience."
Despite her cheery attitude she seemed decidedly bitter about this point.
"Fame is fickle. Fame is fleeting. And worst of all? Fame is one of the only weapons you have when you're in the arena."
no subject
"OK, did you ever have that moment in high school where you didn't realize you'd done something embarrassing? And everyone's stealing peeks at you or whispering softly like you're not even there? It's alot more familiar once you start to develop curves and every hormonal guy in a five yard radius is trying to see through your clothes on pure willpower."
She wiggled her eyebrows despite herself.
"Anyway, it's a bit like that. You never really know how much any particular person here knows about you because you're on TV. There are people who are paid buttloads of money to watch us and speculate on us. To talk about what we're thinking and to predict what we'll do next. There are people out there even now hunched over a computer writing sappy, sexy or just plain gross romance stories about me and other tributes who I may have never even met! And they'll post those stories online and other fans will read them and praise them and agree that "Like, Harley is totally in love with Wesker! Look at the way she smiled at him before he snapped her neck! That's love!"
She pulled a disgusted face. "For the record, if you ever meet a mentor named Wesker? He's a creep. Watch yourself."
Returning to the subject at hand.
"So there's who they think you are, who they're told you are, and all of that? It's way more important that who you are or who you want them to think you are. Because I spent months making friends in the city and all it took was for a special cuff on my arm for them to turn on me like a daytime talk show audience."
Despite her cheery attitude she seemed decidedly bitter about this point.
"Fame is fickle. Fame is fleeting. And worst of all? Fame is one of the only weapons you have when you're in the arena."