Fabien Ling, Stylist for District Five
Well, no one can say I didn't try.
My tributes look horrible. There's only so many things you can do with District Five: labcoats, equation, and the like. My tributes are dressed as stereotypical scientists, with equations running down their labcoats. Rarely do I ever achieve the look that I am going for.
I'm surprised they don't demote me to a lower district. Maybe I'd even get some new ideas. Hmm... I'm already envisioning everything I could do with District Six, electricity, or Eleven. Heck, even Twelve would be an improvement. Coal miner uniforms look much more tough than labcoats.
Dorian, the stylist from Seven, comes over with a smirk on his face. His tributes are very abashed-looking half-naked tree spirits, which I've got to admit is pretty creative but not particularly modest. Or flattering, at least on the boy.
Of course, the first thing out of his mouth is, "My tributes are going to crush your tributes."
"We'll see," I manage to grunt through my teeth, and turn to watch the District One chariot pull out of the Remake Center. The tributes are both traditionally dressed as ancient gods of wealth, adorned in white, purple, and gold robes and a golden weath around their heads evoking the Victor's crown. Oh, clever, clever. The stylist from One is making a distinct statement about her tributes, no doubt earning them even more sponsors. Just great.
Dorian has completely ignored my attempts to ignore him and continued trash-talking. "Your tributes are so homely, no one in their right mind would sponsors them. Unlike mine." He tosses his hair and flashes a smile. Dorian thinks that the highest form of genius is beauty, and therefore he must be brilliant. The fact is, he's probably the most idiotic human being I've ever met in my life, and that's saying something.
"Sure, sure." District Two rides off into the square. Their stylist has dressed them as stone-cold marble statues, having all the extravagance of One but also a sense of focus and power. Just like District Two, I think. Their tributes are always the best.
Dorian has finally shut up and gone to go menace the poor new stylist for District Twelve. Her tributes are in coal miner's outfits, which, I've got to admit, she pulled off pretty well. The pitch black and earthy brown and green tones invoke a strong sense of survival instinct and deep roots, which works well as an angle for the boy but not so much for the girl, a blond-haired little creature who's trembling in fear every time I look at her.
District Eight managed to pull it off well. Nerissa has combined a million different fine fabrics into a sort of elegant patchwork design for a suit and dress. The girl from Eight is obsessively tracing over the patterns on her dress wih her finger, engrossed in the fabric. I wonder if there's something wrong with her brain.
District Four's tributes are the god and goddess of the sea, decorated in ornate pearl and seaweed strands and coral crowns. The boy completely kills the power effect by looking bored as hell. The girl, Stacia, is at least energetic.
The chariots all pull out. District Eleven is wearing mediocre "straw"-weaved garments, one of which is much too small for the girl who's wearing it. Well, at least my costume's not the worst.
My assistant, Claudius, tells me that we have to go to the training center to work with our tributes. "Isn't that the mentor's job?" I grumble. Apparently it isn't.
God, I can't wait until the Games start.