A/N: Well, I'm being very quick in updating right now, as you can tell. I had my last exam this morning, so FREEDOM! Plus, reading Z. L. Haywood's amazing new Hunger Games fic game me inspiration; read it!
Dedication: Dedicated to my mom (for proofreading and generally being awesome!), seafeather-ono (thanks for you review! Yeah, my first chapters are generally short. I'm trying to extend them, though, as you can see from this chapter) and Z. L. Haywood (thanks! Yours is great too! Now update -_-). Thanks, guys!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, they belong to Suzanne Collins, unfortunately. I do, however, own everyone in this chapter!
Chapter Two
The reflection of my enemies
- 'Golden', Fall Out Boy
The chairs are comfortable, a luxury that we couldn't always get around District Four. The interior of the carriage is even more luxurious - grey and silver walls with light fabrics hanging from them, swaying chandeliers that hang from the ceilings and furniture everywhere. Carolyn relaxes in her armchair, surveying both Marshall and I with a lazy smile. Her dark make-up that contrasts so much with her blonde hair has small cracks in it already.
"So," she says in a rich voice. "Let's see what we have this year." She turns to face me, her blue eyes cool and calculating; I can see now how she managed to win her Games. "You - Ashlynn - what are your strengths?"
I am taken aback at how quickly she can forget my name, and feel a little angry. "It's Ashby," I tell her coolly. "And I can work with spears, I can make a few nets and I'm good with knives I guess."
This makes James lean forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. His black hair is styled elegantly and his light blue eyes are amused, a smile on his handsome face. "Knives, I hear?" he remarks. "I can remember a kill I made in my Games with a knife... Do you throw them or just fight with them?"
"Both, I guess," I reply; I feel a lot more relaxed talking to James than I do with Carolyn. Maybe it's because I know that girls are catty and that she won the fortieth Hunger Games by pretending that she was weak. "It's mainly a hobby at home, to be honest."
"Well, it's a hobby that could save your life," James says, nodding. "My advice is that you need to look at things like edible plants and other weapons. Even if you're not that focused on killing your enemies, you can still train."
Carolyn nods, smiles briefly, and then turns to Marshall. "Marshall Danforth - what are your strengths?"
I am unreasonably angry at the fact that one of my mentors can remember his full name when she couldn't even remember my first name. Marshall, however doesn't seem to notice, and begins to list off what he can do.
"I can lift weights, use spears, use nets and I'm good at hand-to-hand combat,"
"Good, good... There's a lot to work with there." Carolyn says. I share a look with Marshall and open my mouth to ask when we will start the private training sessions when Tani Corse walks into the carriage through the other door.
"Good, you've already started," she says, and I am struck by how different her voice is; on stage, her voice is high-pitched and girly, but now it is deeper and more serious. "I'm Tani Corse, your Capitol publicist. I'll be organising for your sponsors and maybe help to teach you how to conduct yourselves in the interviews with Caesar." I resist from rolling my eyes at her words; after growing up watching the Hunger Games, you can't help but know exactly what goes on and which people do what and when.
"Usually," she continues, pulling off her pea green wig, revealing ordinary-looking brunette hair underneath. "In a District like Four when there's two mentors, one mentor works with one Tribute, and vice versa. It would be best if you could choose now so that we can get working as soon as possible, please." With that, Tani stalks out of the carriage, pausing only to pick up a glass of green liquor on the way out. She leaves a relatively stunned silence in her wake.
"I'll work with Mr Danforth," Carolyn says immediately, smiling nastily at James, as though he has drawn the short straw. Then again, I think, compared to Marshall, he probably has.
"Then I shall work with Miss Ketcalfe here." James concludes. He doesn't look altogether unhappy about the decision. "We still have some time before we need to sleep, so Ashby, you can accompany me to the other District Four carriage. Goodnight, Marshall, Carolyn." He stands, gesturing for me to do the same, and I scurry after him towards the doors that separate this carriage from the one that Tani just entered. I hope that she isn't in there; she's just too fake for me to deal with.
When we get in there, the one thing I find different to the other carriage is that instead of the walls being grey in here, they are a light teal. I prefer it to the grey; it made the whole carriage seemed washed out. James and I take a seat opposite each other in the armchairs in front of the fireplace.
"So you're good with knives," he begins, and I sense a change in him. He is no longer so... pretentious. It seems that like now he has gotten away from Carolyn and Tani, he is more comfortable and can be himself. "Both throwing and fighting. And obviously you can fish, as we all can from District Four. You don't really look big enough to be all too good in a fight, but if we can train you up in some other weapons like axes and swords, you should be okay. Do you have any ideas about what you want to do with your group training sessions?" he asks, after scrutinising me for a moment.
I remember my father's words in the Justice Building and feel a stab of homesickness. I ignore it before answering James. "I want to work with practical things, like making fire and learning which plants I should eat and how to make shelter and such," I tell him. "Obviously I can work with fish and, to some extent, other animals, but I'm not so good with plants."
"Okay," James says, nodding. "We can make that happen. We can use replica weapons in the Training Centre that can't hurt anybody, so you can still practice with those when not in group training sessions. Carolyn and Marshall won't have much to do with us, so we won't have to worry about them. I'll need to see how good you are exactly before we come up with any strategies for the Arena itself, but it's good to know more or less what you can do beforehand."
I nod, not too sure what else to do. Now that I know what's coming, I just want to get it over with; besides, training will mean that I don't have to hold back anymore. Plus, if I somehow manage to win the Games, the skills that I learn in training could come in handy.
James checks the time on a large carriage clock on the mantelpiece of the fireplace and gets up heavily. "It's time for dinner. Believe me, you will not taste anything as good as it is in the Capitol anywhere else." I also stand up and follow him into a large dining room and am momentarily surprised that we won't be eating with Carolyn, Marshall and Tani. Oh, well; I can't say that I will miss Carolyn and Tani's company. They aren't exactly two of the nicest people to be around.
Living so close to the Capitol means that I know that the people in white who serve us and never speak are Avoxes, criminals from various Districts who have their tongues severed or sometimes cut out. These Avoxes are forced to serve the people of the Capitol, usually at the Training Centre for the Tributes and their teams. I manage to force down a spicy chicken stir-fry (and discover that I dislike spicy food greatly), a pudding made of rice with vanilla and edible flowers (I memorise them - they could be in the Arena, you never know) and a large fruit salad dish. James eats more politely, pointing out foods that I should try.
When we are finished, an Avox cleans up our dishes and James tells me to get some sleep - from now on, every day will be busy and full. Being from District Four, and therefore closer to the Capitol than some other Districts, the train ride would be much shorter than the ride for those further away from the Capitol. When I find my room, I am so physically and emotionally exhausted from the day that I fall asleep straight after taking my clothes off. I crawl into the warm and comfortable bed and drift away...
Knock, knock, knock. I groggily raise my head and see the silhouette of a person standing outside the door of my room. They were obviously trying to wake me up, so I slither out of bed and stagger across the room. I open the door a crack to see James standing there, an amused look on his face as he looks at my face. I self-consciously rub my cheek in case the imprint of the pillow is still there.
"We'll be at the Capitol in an hour and a half; you're expected to be dressed and fed ready for your prep team and your stylist to get to work, so hurry up." He pauses and grins at me. "Oh, and nice bed head, by the way." He shuts the door behind him as he walks away. I curse myself and rifle through the drawers to see if there's any clothes that I can wear for the Day. Eventually, I pull out a black and grey striped long-sleeved top and some grey trousers. An Avox with black glossy hair helpfully pulls out some wedge heels that aren't too high, which means that I can walk in them without falling over. I smile in thanks and enter the living area of the carriage that I am sharing with James. Walking through the living area, I manage to make it into the dining room just as breakfast is being served and feel my eyes widen at the sight of the amount of food on the table.
Although I am from District Four and we have more food on offer than most of the other Districts, the amount of food in front of me is unbelievable; six platters of toast, pancakes and savoury scones, half a dozen bowls of different cereal, dishes of fruits that I haven't seen before and then cups of various drinks, which I can differentiate only by the different colour of the cups. At another corner of the large table is a sizzling hot platter of cooked foods like bacon, sausage, eggs and more, along with bread rolls. After a second of being overwhelmed, I take my seat opposite James and help myself to a cooked breakfast with everything I can see on the hot plate and ask the nearest Avox for the list of which drinks are which. I choose something called a cappuccino, which appears to be coffee with milk foam on the top. I'm not really a big fan of coffee, but the cappuccino was certainly nice. After we have both finished with our breakfasts, James claps his hands together and leans over the table towards me.
"Now that that is done with, we need to discuss what you'll be doing when we get to the Training Centre," he says seriously. "Whatever you do, let the prep team do their thing. And your stylist started last year, so he's pretty open to suggestions. But keep them brief and let him do the main decisions, okay?"
I nod at him. "That's okay."
"And we'll work on more strategies and your interview when we come to them. Until then, connect with the crowd and try to please people: that way, you'll get more sponsors. The crowd love it when the Career Districts appear to like them." He gets up and begins to walk towards the living area.
I nod again and stand up aswell, following him. I look out of the windows as we pass them and see that we are approaching a dark tunnel. The world outside of the train goes darker than coal for a minute or two, before we emerge in a platform. Thousands of Capitol citizens have crowded themselves around where the train will stop; the first thing that hits me about them is the wide spectrum of colours - the platform looks like a living rainbow. The sight is burning my retinas slightly, but I blink it away and move towards a bigger window, smiling and waving at them, trying to make it look like I am a confident Tribute. Someone worth sponsoring.
Someone who might win.
James leans on a bookshelf to the left of me and grins sarcastically, hidden away from where they might see him.
"I would say that you're a natural, but I think that might insult you more than a little," he comments dryly. I pull a face at him and continue my act for the people on the platform. I could just imaging Carolyn getting Marshall to do the same.
When the train slows to a stop underneath the Training Centre, and we get off the train. They try to keep us away from the other Tributes, but you can't help but catch a glimpse of a few of them. A few stick in my mind: a tall, sinewy girl from Eleven who is smirking as though she planned to be here; a muscular and, I have to admit it, very handsome dark-haired boy from District One; a tiny blonde girl who looks to be about nine, but must be at least twelve, from District Ten. Their faces stick with me for various reasons. Mainly because this is the first glimpse of the people who might kill me in the Arena.
Marshall and I are lumped together as we wait outside the corridor with the number four stamped all over it. James and Carolyn walk off to find our floor, and neither Marshall nor I have any idea where Tani went, so we end up being called into separate rooms to meet our prep teams and stylists.
My team is comprised of three girls who all look extremely excitable, each with a different shade of lilac covering their skin. To be honest, apart from the fact that one is taller than the other two and another has blue tattoos over her arms, they all look pretty similar. And when they tell me their names ("Alicks, Marli and Arshey."), they promptly fall out of my head. It sounds cold of me to think so, but I have no interest in getting to know my prep team. They're just there to make me look pretty, after all.
Apparently, they have been told to remake me to 'Beauty Base Zero' (whatever that may mean), and this involves ridding my body of anything that they deem unneeded. Apparently, I am going to have to endure three layers of body scrub, which will strip away dead skin and dirt. Then my hair will be trimmed and my nails shaped. I am not particularly looking forward to it, especially if my stylist thinks that more needs to be done after he has seen me, but I have the feeling that I just want to get it over and done with so that I can retire to the fourth floor of the Training Centre and sleep.
Two and a half hours later, during which I take James' pretty sound advice about not stopping them, I have been scrubbed so much that it feels like my flesh might actually have been pulled off of my bones and my skin is left tingling and sore. Alicks, Marli and Arshey look me over and nod, occasionally clapping their hands together and bouncing on the spot. They remind me of toddlers, excited about something. They decide to call my stylist, who is apparently called Light. I can remember last year, when he made his debut; our Tributes were dressed in togas and carried faux tridents and nets. The horses were made to look like delicate sea creatures and the carriages were decorated wit shells and painted light greens and wispy blues. I don't know what to expect this year, seeing has he has half the amount of Tributes he had to dress, but I hope that he won't present us naked or something embarrassing like that.
Light walks into the Remake Centre and the first thing I notice is his skin: it is a deep purple, and he has bright green eyes. Teal is everywhere in his outfit, contrasting with his dyed skin and his jet black hair.
"Hello, Ashby Ketcalfe. I am Light, your stylist for this year's Games," he introduces himself. His voice is high pitched and clips randomly, the traditional Capitol way of speaking.
"It's nice to meet you," I reply politely, accepting his outstretched hand and shaking it.
"I was thinking this year that we needed a change," he ventures exuberantly, waving his hands around to exaggerate his point. "Because although you're from one of the primary Districts in Panem, you still need to make an impression. So my partner and I were thinking this - classical."
I am nonplussed and a little worried for his sanity. "Classical?" I question, not too sure what he is getting at; classical could cover anything!
"Yes, classical!" he chirps excitedly. "You in a long, sweeping gown, Marshall in a suit... We could make you seem even more like king and queen of the ocean," he fantasises dreamily.
I'll bite, I think cautiously. As long as this 'long, sweeping gown' isn't too revealing, I've got no problem with it.
"So let's try it on! We have plenty of time until dinner, so if you have any minor suggestions, we can deal with those," he continues, reaching inside a hidden closet to pull out what must be my dress, but it is covered in a white sheet. He whips the sheet off and reveals possibly the most beautiful dress I have ever seen.
It seems to be made out of a thin, gauzy material with thin and incredibly fragile-looking gold netting at the waist, fanning out over the right hand side of the skirt. The top of the dress has ornamental shells and what looks like real seaweed decorating it with what Light describes as a sweetheart neckline. The skirt is long with a slight outwards curve to it, with many layers of fabric. Sparkles are sewn into the fabric, and the actual dress is a light blue-green colour, the colour of a clear ocean. I step into it and tell Light that the corset is too loose and the skirt too long, but I have no more criticisms than that. He prods me onto a small stool and trims the hem of the dress until it is long enough to reach the floor when I am standing on flat ground, but not long enough for me to trip over. The corset is tightened and then I am told to put on a pair of three inch heels that are sea green in colour. The only reason that I can more or less hobble around is them is that being from District Four, you are required to have good balance.
Light directs me over to the dinner table and presses a small button; a hole is opened in the table and through it appears a large platter of steamed vegetables and two plates, already with chicken on; a small jug with a white sauce flecked with green also appears. I help myself to baby carrots, wilted spinach and green beans, pouring a little of the sauce over the top of it all. Using my most impeccable manners, I eat the delicious meal quickly and Light wrenches me away from my pudding (something called treacle tart that is beautiful) to apply my make-up and style my hair.
He adds some white powder to highlight my cheekbones and speckles green and blue eye shadow onto my eyelids, darker green mascara and light blue eyeliner. Next, he trims layers into my golden-brown hair and curls it, winding my hair away from my face and into an elegant, yet artfully messy bun. He announces that he has finished and we walk down to the bottom level of the Remake Centre to find Marshall and Light's partner. She never mentions her name, and I don't ask for it.
Our horses are a dark sandy colour, apparently made to represent the sea floor, and the chariot has been painted with different shades of green and blue, some white in there too. It actually looks like the ocean, surprisingly. Marshall clambers onto the chariot and offers a hand to pull me up. I accept, mainly because in these shoes, I wouldn't be able to do it on my own. Carolyn and Tani are nowhere to be seen, but James offers his luck and melts away into the stands.
The opening music is blasted out into the night air and I feel the apprehension and nervousness creep into my body as the first chariot pulls out into the streets of the Capitol. The music shakes me, reverberates right to my bones - it is loud enough to be heard all over the Capitol, and there are rumours that those in District One can hear it, too.
The next ten minutes whiz past, and suddenly, our sand-coloured horses are pulling us out into the twilight streets.
A/N: So, there we go. We've got right up to the parade! Did anybody get the little reference to Mr Finnick Odair in the whole 'trident' thing? Some more reviews would be lovely!
-Lauren
