After hours of being plucked, lotioned, pricked and styled I am unrecognizable, even though they hadn't really changed that much, they had tidied me up, made me look natural but in the attractive sort of way. After finishing admiring their work they squeal and stand back as a woman with sharp yellow hair, styled into a bouffant with a matching figure hugging dress enters the clinical looking room, mirrors line the walls with the odd exception of bare white paint, as if it's sensitive to your eyes after the rest of you is plummeted into a sore mess. I was able to retain some of my dignity by persuading my prep team to give me a paper dress to cover me for my stylists inspection.
"Hm yes. I know what to do with you." She smiles a large, cat-like grin, revealing her pearly whites that really were pearly white. I must express a look of pure terror as she softens and shakes her head with a cackle "Oh don't worry, All will be well. You'll look magnificent." Her features were odd, Like a patchwork quilt that was endearing enough, but not the centre piece. It mirrored her job, making other beings look beautiful and dazzling whilst she stood back, forgotten. Still, I'd rather be in her place. Her nose is long and narrow, with the point of it upturned slightly, and her eyes were thin openings that let her chocolate-brown eyes seep out somewhat, She was pretty enough, but I feel she relies heavily on the make up they have come so accustomed to in the Capitol, and with that she grabs at my elbow, bringing me to the adjacent room, that lined with various outfits she had no doubt discarded as chariot ride outfits, as they were flung and crumpled around the room, hanging off lampshades and dressers. She skids across the blue floor, that's accented with glittering flecks that catch the light and make the room look dazzling. Her long taloned fingers reach for a hung up outfit, that shines out away from the rest of the other fabrics, It's hung and covered by a clear film, so it was visible. And it instantly made me feel uneasy.
"Of course my dear Marina, you won't be that exposed. I mean you are only sixteen. If you were a little older I'd be able to let my imagination fully loose!" She trills. The thought of what she's saying makes me shudder. But I remember Mags' gentle warning to be kind to these people, because underneath all the vanity and fakeness, they were trying to help me.
"Will Chaim and I be in the same thing?" I ask in bewilderment, wondering how the skimpy piece would be tailored for a man, especially a man of Chaim's size.
"Oh no, I mean, I have worked with his stylist, Gart, so that you'll compliment each other. But my, I wouldn't dress you in a males clothing, certainly not." She adds darkly, as though it was the biggest sin she could commit. They really didn't live in the real world. "Oh how terribly rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself! You must forgive my manners, only I've been up to my ears in fabric and planning and Sylvia, well she certainly"
"What did you say your name was?" I cut her off irritably, afraid she was going to divulge into information I really didn't care for, nor did I have the energy to withstand . She places a delicate touch to her own head, as though she had forgotten something.
"Olga, my love. And you're Marina Bluewater." She says my name as a fact, as if to confirm it to herself and stamp it in her own memory, so she wouldn't forget. I nod and she grins her Cheshire cat smile again. "Well Marina Bluewater, Let's get you ready."