4. The Capitol
The Capitol was blaring and blitzing and glitzy and glittering and glimmering and clean, so very clean. The Capitol's streets were wide and the buildings towered over everything, none so much as the Training Center.
Thin strips of sky were visible overhead. Chell never thought she could miss open, empty fields so much.
Would the arena have stars?
Her attendants directed her eyes to all distracting, bright things. She wasn't supposed to see the Avoxes. But she saw, anyway. Their eyes begged "Help." Their red, callused hands were the machinery behind the pristine façade.
Good people don't end up here.
5. Her Stylists
Her principal stylist didn't look at her. He gibbered, planned, and smiled a bright, false smile.
Of her prep team, the first asked questions endlessly, her yellow lips never stopping as she popped off one inane inquiry after another.
The second, with a blue-dyed hand, tried to stuff candies into Chell's mouth. "Treats." Constantly he offered her truffles, cookies, ice creams, cake.
The third was angry. He snapped what he held and what he said. His long, red fingernails raked over Chell's bare skin. No-one saw. He pinched. Pierced. Scratched. Clawed. Growled. Snarled in her ear.
Chell made no sound.
6. Her Chariot Ride
Grey horses pulled the chariot. Her partner wore blue; she wore an orange embarrassment..
The Capitol escort said, now was the time to make a grand first impression. Her partner was preparing to smile and wave for all he was worth.
Chell thought otherwise. They'd already gotten their first impression of her, at her Reaping. As the horses set out, she got her first look at the crowds.
She stared out at them, not waving, not smiling. Studying. Like they were a problem to be solved.
The chariot ride only lasted a few minutes, anyway. And she made an impression.