Fawn and Gale are led out of the train and into a car – on the way, Gale manages to make a few girls swoon and inside the vehicle, Fawn teases him, nudging his shoulder. "Didn't know you could be such a Casanova, Gale." The muscular boy lets out a hearty laugh, something she hasn't heard in a while and it brings a smile to her rosy lips, brightening her silver eyes quite a bit.
"All men have a few secrets, midget."
"Yeah, right." The eighteen year old snorts, this little moment managing to take her mind off unpleasant thoughts – even if it is just for a few seconds, it's more than worth it.
Soon enough, they arrive at the City Circle, where the Tribute Parade will be held until they reach the training center in chariots. Chariots, like the romans, the gladiators in ancient history that fought with honor, for honor. Fawn can only scoff at the thought. There's no honor in this, she thinks.
Before they get to look around in bewilderment at the big, ostentatious buildings, they're ushered into one of them and are thrust into the awaiting arms of their prep teams. A woman named Portia – that seems to be on her mid-twenties with puffed, curly and short blond hair, adorned with black lipstick and long, fake eyelashes – is put in charge as Gale's stylist, whereas Fawn's stylist is a humble looking man in his thirties with short black hair named Cinna, the only extravagance that he shows being the gold eyeliner that he uses.
Gale and Fawn are separated yet again and sent to different rooms – the boy looks absolutely terrified and Fawn laughs quietly at the miserable look on Gale's face.
"Fawn Ivory, yes?" Cinna adresses her with a soft tone and she nods, surprised at the lack of pomposity. "Well, I'm very honored to have such a beautiful canvas to work on." The raven haired girl's usually pale cheeks are now bright red – Fawn isn't used to people complimenting her and can't help but to blush whenever someone does so.
"Oh, um... Thank you." The man offers a kind smile and leads her inside a small changing room where she's instructed to change into a blue, scratchy gown. Fawn glances at it in distaste but quickly changes from the navy-blue dress to the gown.
Cinna then introduces her to the rest of her prep team, consisting of two women and a man, much more bizarre looking that the head stylist – Venia, Octavia and Flavius. They immediately start working on her, removing all her body-hair first. She bites her lower lip to endure the pain, though her muscles don't even twitch with each hair that's ripped away. Venia compliments her on her ability to not complain and Fawn offers an awkward smile, not really knowing how to answer. Next, they put her in a bubbling bath – she sighs in delight at the warm water. Never in her life has she had such a wonderful time bathing.
When she's done and dry, Cinna promptly hands her a beautiful black, leather-like dress – it's long sleeved and it will easily reach her ankles. Its fabric is soft and when Venia helps her put it on, it hugs her body perfectly, truly favoring her lean figure. The stylist then adds a long, coal colored cape that hangs over her shoulders with spike-like ends before ushering her to a chair so that her makeup and hair can be done.
Flavius snips her hair here and there and for a few moments, she's scared of what she might end up looking like – noticing her nervousness, Flavius smiles kindly.
"Oh, darling, you don't have to worry. You're in good hands." Flavius assures her before he continues his work, now curling her hair as Octavia applies makeup on her milky skin. Fawn isn't really convinced.
"You're going to look fabulous, sweetie!" Octavia exclaims excitedly, a wide smile on her lips. Fawn can only smile nervously.
Almost half an hour later, the prep team announces that they're done. Cinna kneels down in front of her and helps her slip into a pair of low-heeled black shoes before taking her hand and leading her to a big mirror that's attached to one of the walls.
Fawn stares, astonished at the beautiful, almost intimidating woman that's reflected on the mirror – is that really me?, she wonders. Her eyes are surrounded by black eyeshadow, with a few stones that look like diamonds that winged out from the corner of her eyes. Her plush lips have a faint gloss applied on them, surely to not take much attention from her eyes that seem to shine even brighter, her silver irises even more noticeable now.
Fawn doesn't have any words to describe the dress – it fits her splendidly and she wonders how Cinna managed to do such a thing without even knowing her. Her swart hair is loose in long, perfect curls that cascade down her back and over her shoulders. On the top of her head there's a headpiece – somewhat like a black tiara, except its structure is made of horizontal lines.
"Watch this." Cinna takes a piece of cloth from his pocket that looks like it's of the same fabric as her dress and a small switch. He presses the button and brushes the device over the cloth – it immediately starts burning, but instead of normal red, orange and yellow fire, it's white with tiny specks of blue. Fawn squeaks and slaps it out of Cinna's hand, afraid that it'll burn him. The prep team starts chuckling, though, and she glances at them in confusion.
"It's not real fire, sweetie. It's synthetic." Cinna explains – Fawn blushes furiously and groans inwardly. It's not really her fault – there's no such thing as synthetic fire in her district. "When your chariot starts moving, press the button and just touch your dress with the device. Gale has an identical switch with him, too. It's something Portia and I have been working on for a while." The man says softly, a gentle smile on his lips.
"But how would you know that—"
"I requested to be your district's stylist." Cinna says without any kind of hesitation.
Before she could ask why, someone warns the prep team that the chariot rides will begin in fifteen minutes. Flavius shrieks, eliciting a wince from Fawn at the high-pitched sound, and they quickly guide her to the place where the chariots are – she wonders if Gale is already there.
It will be the first time she'll be seeing the other tributes – she missed the recap of all the other reapings and Fawn makes it a point to watch them later, to study the other tributes.
Her chariot is the last one, obviously – it's decorated with white roses and it's entirely black, as well as the horses. Fawn starts noticing the pattern, the inspiration on their district. To her dismay, nor Gale nor Haymitch are there yet, therefore leaving her there by herself, and she sighs, caressing the horse's mane and neck with gentle brushes of her hand. From the corner of her eyes, she spots two boys and girls talking with each other – the boys are big and muscular and the girls are very beautiful. Just from the ostentatious clothing they're wearing, she can tell they are probably from the career districts one and two.
Already making alliances?, Fawn thinks – they always do, though. It's certainly nothing new. Her reverie is broken when they glance at her—glare, to be more correct – she's about to look away when Fawn realizes that she can't show fear. So, instead of avoiding their gazes, she glares right back, trying to look as intimidating as possible. One of the girls, a blonde one, huffs and they all avert their gaze – a small victory that brings an instant smirk to her lips.
"Quite brave what you did on Reaping Day. Taking that girl's place, I mean." An unknown voice sounds from behind her. Fawn's eyebrows furrow and she turns around – she's faced with one of the most beautiful men she's ever seen. His eyes are the first thing she notices – a rich, vibrant sea-green color that seems to invite you to come closer –, they hold a mischievous glint to them that makes her slightly wary of the male. His hair is as golden as the sun with a few darker strands here and there – his skin is sun-kissed, even if the only expanse of skin that he's showing are his arms, though his muscles can be seen what with the tight fabric of his shirt. The man is tall and well-built with Adonis-like features. His face looks familiar but Fawn can't place her finger on it.
For a few moments, she simply stands there, bewildered but then she remembers that he addressed her and her stupor is broken. A faint smirk is noticeable on his full lips.
"Um—I suppose so. She's... like family, I couldn't let her be sentenced to death."
"And instead, you sentence yourself to death?" This annoys her greatly. Fawn crosses her slender arms over her chest and narrows her eyes.
"I'm not some frail, little thing, thank you very much. I can take care of myself." Fawn scowls, already regretting starting a conversation with this man. The latter holds his hands up in mock-surrender, a sheepish smile adorning his lips.
"Didn't mean to offend." He pauses before extending his hand. "Fawn Ivory, right?" The raiven haired girl eyes him suspiciously before nodding and hesitantly grasping his hand.
"Yeah—" Fawn gasps when the man brings her hand up to his lips, ever so gently brushing the soft pair over her knuckles as his eyes never leave her own – she feels allured by that lively pair.
"Finnick Odair! What the hell do you think you're doing to my tribute?" Fawn hears Haymitch shout. The eighteen year old pries her hand away from Finnick, now recognizing who he is – the Capitol's toy. She's heard rumors about him once, a few years ago – how President Snow forced him to sell his body. But then again, they were just gossips – she pitied him all the same, rumors or not.
"Fawn!" Gale's voice sounds – she steps from behind Finnick, who had turned around and effectively blocked her line of sight, and spots Haymitch and her childhood friend striding their way. Haymitch's features are neutral but Gale seems outright angry. Why that is so is what she wonders.
"Ga—" Fawn's cut off when the muscular boy envelops her in a tight hug, promptly glaring at district four's mentor and victor. Now that she thinks about it, why would he approach her so early – the trainings haven't even started. And either way, shouldn't his tributes be the ones to talk to her?
"Ah, just congratulating her on her bravery, Abernathy." Said mentor narrows his eyes at him before glancing at Fawn in confirmation. The girl simply shrugs, now that Gale finally released her from the bear-like embrace – perhaps the boy noticed that Finnick wasn't a threat.
"Shouldn't you be encouraging your own tributes?" Fawn mumbles, more to herself than anyone else, but somehow Finnick manages to hear what she says and the older male smirks.
"Feisty ones you've got this year, huh, Haymitch?" The district four victor smiles charmingly, showing off his perfect row of upper teeth. Haymitch actually smiles, a real, sans drunken state smile, almost as if he's proud of the two tributes.
"Yeah, they are." Their conversation is cut short, though, when a Capitol assistant warns them that the parade is about to start and that the tributes should all step into the chariots.
"Well, I'll be taking my leave, then. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ivory." Finnick smiles widely – there's a hollow feeling to it, though – and dramatically bows. His playfulness doesn't surprise the eighteen year old but she has to surpress a laugh at his antics.
"I still have to figure out if the feeling is reciprocated or not." Fawn teases with a small grin and this time Finnick smiles more genuinely before walking away without another word. Gale glances at her with a certain emotion in his eyes that she's not able to identify, so she decides to shrug it off and step up into the chariot, her tribute partner quickly doing the same.
Now that she has time to really look at him, Fawn has to admit that he looks rather... handsome. Has he always been this good-looking? Gale's sharp features are even more accentuated with the light makeup the prep team applied and the black, leather piece he is wearing fits him perfectly, complimenting his muscular torso, thighs and arms.
Gale catches her looking and a teasing smile appears on his lips. He nudges Fawn's arm and she looks up at him with a start, her cheeks flushing with a soft pink before she quickly averts his gaze, clearing her throat. Gale chuckles softly and shakes his head.
Soon enough, their chariots start moving and begin the ride along the City Circle – and as the chariots pick up their pace a bit, so does her heart, the latter beating loudly against her ribcage, almost as loud as the crowd is cheering. Fawn suddenly remembers about the device Cinna gave her and she taps Gale's arm, showing him the small piece of technology – the boy nods. Both tributes press the button and brush the device over the fabric of their clothes.
It immediately ignites the synthetic fire, the white and blue fluttering behind with the wind – the crowd of Capitol citizens goes wild, cheering, clapping and whistling loudly, to the point that a few other tributes even look back at them. Fawn glances at Gale and his fire is different from hers – instead of white, blue is the most prevalent color and the specks are white. It's beautiful, ethereal almost. She then looks at one of the panels that are showing close-ups of the two and notices that even her headpiece is on fire, and for a moment she worries that her hair will burn but the worry vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. She's speechless.
They're halfway through the ride and the raven haired girl peeks at the crowd once more – they're still cheering loudly for them, completely amazed and bewildered at their strong appearance.
"You wanna know how you can survive in the arena? Get people to like you."
Without thinking twice, Fawn holds Gale's hand and smiles charmingly at the Capitol citizens. Gale stares at her in confusion though he doesn't really seem to mind – it's not the first time they've held hands.
"Let's hold them up. They'll like it." Fawn whispers and grins. Gale catches on to what she's getting at and nods, smiling faintly. Again that unfamiliar emotion in his eyes.
The two tributes hold their hands up to show that they're linked, that they have a strong bond that not even the Hunger Games can break. Fawn almost winces with the shrieks and screams of the crowd – they're so loud that she wonders if the people in district one can hear it.
The chariots start slowing down the closer they get to the round square, lining up beneath the balcony where President Snow stands, getting himself ready to begin his speech. Fawn holds back a sneer at the sight of the old man. The wind is blowing mildly and wafts a strange, almost sickening smell – like iron and rotten flowers. The eighteen year old scrunches her nose up discreetly and steals a glance at the eldery man – there's a white rose on his jacket. Fawn wonders what's the source of that smell that was doubtlessly blood. Gale used to hurt himself a lot when they were younger, getting scratches from falling down or tripping over while hunting, and Fawn would always take care of his wounds.
Snow quietly clears his throat before smiling – a sickly sweet, fake smile.
"Welcome. Welcome, tributes! We salute your courage and your sacrifice and wish you Happy Hunger Games!" He begins. Fawn scowls, discreetly staring at the President darkly. Gale gently squeezes her hand, glancing at her with a questioning gaze and she shakes her head briefly, a faint smile adorning her rosy lips. With a fleeting look, she notices President Snow curiously peering at her. Fawn decides to stare at the Capitolians beside him.
"May the odds be ever in your favor. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever!" The Capitolians roar, applauding loudly and Fawn smiles charmingly at the cameras, though it seems forced. A few seconds later, the chariots start moving again, taking them into the tower connected to the training center where they'll be staying for the next three days of training.
Fawn inhales deeply once she's away from the public eye. Gale helps her step down from the chariot and she smiles thankfully at him.
"That was amazing! Great work, Fawn. And you too, Gale." Cinna exclaims as both prep teams rush over to them, Haymitch and Effie not too far behind.
"Yes, yes, marvelous, my dears." Effie adds with a proud smile on her lips once they're all close to each other. The pink haired woman gently squeezes Fawn's arm in an affectionate gesture.
"Thank you." They awkwardly say, glancing at each other with sheepish smiles – even if she feels as if her death is just around the corner, she'll do her best to enjoy Cinna's glamorous designs. She is just a girl, after all. Fawn hears a snort from behind her and the eighteen year old slowly turns around, a neutral expression on her face – it seems as though one of the career districts' tributes is the source of that noise, a smirk plastered on his lips. He doesn't seem to pose much of a threat – he appears to be quite a dimwit. In contrast, a muscular, tall and blonde boy beside him has a menacing look on his eyes and he seems to be studying her.
"Let's call it a day, shall we? You kids can do whatever the hell you want for the rest of the day." Haymitch voice sounds and the raven haired girl faces the group once more. The man is looking at the career tribute as well before turning his gaze at Fawn with a faint smile. The girl can't help but to smile right back. Fawn nods and says goodbye, for now, to the prep team, Gale quickly doing the same, before both young tributes trail behind Haymitch and Effie.
They take an elevator to the twelveth floor – the ride up is made in silence, though it's a comfortable one. Effie shows them to their penthouse, Haymitch slowly trailing behind. As Gale and Effie engage in a conversation about schedules, Fawn scoots closer to their mentor.
"Would you bet on us?" The question seems to catch the victor on guard, his eyes blinking rapidly.
"What—How do you—"
"I'm eighteen, Haymitch. Not eight." She heaves a soft chuckle, a teasing glint on her silver eyes. The glint disappears right after, though, as she becomes serious once again. "So, would you? I suspect you don't but—you get what I mean." Haymitch looks thoughtful for a few moments and Fawn notices that Gale and Effie are both listening to them, the sound of their chatter becoming softer, quieter. The mentor smirks slightly.
"I'd have to wait for the trainings to know that but—I think I would. You two seem like you're tough kids." The answer pleases Fawn, rekindling that tiny hope she has in her heart. "Though you are kind of a midget, you don't strike me as weak." The eighteen year old's eyes widen and Gale lets out a loud laugh, Effie trying to fight back a chuckle – Haymitch smirks widely.
"And here I was starting to like you, Haymitch." She shakes her head with a mock-disappointed tone, sighing quietly. The mentor chuckles and pats her shoulder before making his way back down the hall to leave.
"See you kids at dinner time!" He announces over his shoulder. Gale and Fawn furrow their eyebrows in confusion before the raven haired girl turns around to face Effie.
"What about lunch?"
"Oh, don't worry about it. It's fine – no one really knows where he goes at this time." Effie answers with a silent exhale. Fawn suspects why but says nothing, not wanting to judge the surely tormented victor.
It's almost dinner time, now – about half an hour until then. Getting out of the dress was quite the feat, having to ask Effie for help. When she was completely free of her clothes and accessories, face clean from any makeup, Fawn endulged herself in a warm, relaxing bubble bath, taking the opportunity to think. Of course that that didn't lead to anything good, so instead she busied herself with playing with the bubbles.
Lunch was a quiet affair, with a bit of small talk here and there – though it was mostly awkward, since both tributes and Effie didn't have much in common and, thus, not much to talk about. In the afternoon, Gale and Fawn took a nap, cuddled up against one another in the couch after falling asleep while watching the other reapings. The tributes from one and two could be a threat, as well as the girl from five. She had a cunning look, seemed sly and elusive.
Fawn woke up a couple hours ago and started busying herself with sketching birds, wild animals and flowers – she's always loved to draw and the girl does have a talent for it. Now that she has limitless amounts of paper to draw on, she suspects that she'll be spending quite a bit of her free time doing so, though she isn't able to concetrate much – there is at least one avox in each room of the penthouse and that bothers her, especially knowing that they have had their tongues cut off. So much cruelty, she mournfully thinks.
So, instead of dwelling on it further, she decides to occupy the garden on the roof – it's beautiful. The different types of flowers, the clean air... it's absolutely lovely. Fawn sets the pages down on a stone bench and glances around. The eighteen year old walks about for a while, getting closer to the edge – she can see the entire Capitol from here and the girl feels like she could touch the sky just by reaching up with her hand. And so, she lifts her delicate fingers, reaching forward, higher, higher—
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A slightly familiar voice sounds from behind the girl and she quickly recoils, holding her hand to her heart at the sudden noise, the muscle beating thunderously.
"F-Finnick?" Fawn sighs in relief, willing her heart to slow down but as she stares at those sea-green eyes, it doesn't seem to want to obey. But who could blame her? Not that she'd ever admit it, of course. "You scared me."
"You have to be more attentive if you want to get out of this alive." He murmurs, sitting on the bench next to her drawings. The victor fleetingly glances at them and he smiles faintly. It takes a bit of time to process before she understands what he means with 'this'.
"... Right." Fawn nods gingerly, grimacing. "Ah, um—I wasn't going to attempt anything, if that's what you were thinking." She mutters, embarrassed, as the eighteen year old walks back to the bench, picking up her drawings and sitting beside the taller male.
"You'd be unconcious before you could even step on the edge."
"What do you mean?" Now, she's just confused.
"There's a forcefield around the roof. To prevent the tributes from taking their own lives. Not strong enough to kill, but enough to pass out." Finnick shrugs nonchalantly and Fawn stares at him with perplexity. "As if Snow wasn't cruel enough, he decided to do this after a tribute jumped off the building. He didn't want us to stop our suffering." He finishes bitterly, in a really soft murmur, his hatred for President Snow crystal clear. Fawn glances at the camera next to the access door to the roof warily but since nothing happens in the next few moments, she sighs in relief.
"So, are you stalking me now or what?" Fawn attempted to lighten up the mood, quirking one eyebrow up with a teasing smile. Finnick laughs loudly and he looks so boyish, so carefree that it surprises her – the guard he seems to keep up in public is gone and the victor looks... alive. It's breathtaking.
"No, don't worry. I usually come up here. Not many – actually, no one comes here and I sometimes enjoy the silence."
"The party boy enjoys silence?" She says in disbelief – Fawn doesn't know why but she's genuinely curious to find out more about him. The raven haired girl thought he was just a capitol toy, partying every day and every night, immersed in luxury – but there's definitely something more than meets the eye, something hidden behind the playful smirks, the seductive gazes and the teasing.
"Is it that unnatural? Not everything is what it seems, Miss Ivory. Nothing is what it seems." Finnick answers vaguely – and the guard is up again.
"Or maybe, sometimes it's just what it seems." Fawn delicately claims, searching for anything, any kind of reaction on those alluring eyes.
"Maybe." Finnick murmurs and the eighteen year old inwardly groans, cursing herself – one step forward and three steps back. "Well, Miss Ivory, it's been a pleasure talking with you, but I'm afraid it's dinner time – and I can't possibly miss that." The victor stands up and curtly nods his head with a charming, fake smile before walking away, into the building. Fawn sighs and picks up her drawings, holding them tight to her chest.
As she makes her way to the penthouse, slowly striding along the hall, Fawn thinks about Finnick, about Gale, about training – but her mind always falls back to Finnick and their conversation. Even during dinner, as Gale tries to talk with her, all she does is nod or hum in agreement. Even Effie and Haymitch look at her with concern and curiosity.
"All men have a few secrets, midget."