Arrivals

All too soon...they arrived.

They were hurried off the train after breakfast, Arnold yet again refusing to wear the Capitol clothing and earning a few disapproving looks from his prep team.

They introduced themselves as Flavia, Quintilla and Regulus. And they were a mixture of gaudy colours that made Arnold feel almost sick to his stomach.

They discussed him as though he wasn't there. They said how they should draw attention to his eyes. Play up his tanned skin. Wax his eyebrows.

And as much as he wanted to disagree, it was completely out of his power. So he allowed them to primp him, polish him, and wax his eyebrows into a more uniformed shape. Then they left him, with nothing but a towel.

"Sulla will be here in a minute, darling," Quintilla stated, as the three left the room. And Arnold could only assume Sulla was his stylist. Great. He'd seen some of his work.

Well, if previous years were to go by, he'd be parading around in very, very little. Joy.

Silently, Lorna let the prep team work on her. Show her tan, smooth her hair. Yes. Her hair was an eye catcher. Tan skin, dark red hair and blue eyes. A rare combination outside her District, though in her district it wasn't uncommon.

After the painful things they left her in a towel and Grant arrived.

He seemed nice, a bit odd to her. Very concerned with his moustache, which was green and very long, he kept twirling it around his finger in thought. It sort of freaked her out.

She was also rather afraid of what she'd have to wear. 'Very little' was not her thing.

But that wasn't even what he had in mind, thank God.

He said he wanted to 'sell her innocence and fear'

Well he could have that.

And plenty of it.

So, Lo was given a light blue dress, that sparkled and pooled at her feet, turning darker as it went down, like the ocean.

Her hair was down in soft waves, thought that process might have traumatized her. They'd smeared a paste in it and all of the sudden it had grown longer, now ending mid back.

Her eyes were big and emotions could be seen clearly from the big screen she'd be shown on.

The only emotion apparent on her made up face was fear.

But Arnold...Arnold was not representing innocence and fear. Sulla had him draped in what he guessed was meant to be a net mixed with a sail of some sort, in some kind of loin cloth fashion. He also had a trident and net, and he sighed as they worked on him some more, even dabbing bits of makeup on his face and drawing wave patterns down his arms. He hated life.

But, at least he realised, as he passed a mirror, he didn't look too bad almost naked. Embarrassed enough, but at least working on ships and hauling in nets of fish left him muscular. Maybe that was what they were going for, trying to make him the hot commodity this year. He doubted it highly, District One tended to win that, but bless his team for trying.

He was pretty much dragged backstage for the parade. And he was very aware of himself as he looked around, leaning against his chariot as his prep team fussed at him, Anna babbled, and Finnick snorted at his appearance. He shot him a glance.

"Hey, you looked kind of like this last year. Shut it."

But then he saw his sister. And he then realised exactly what his prep team were doing.

She was the innocent one who needed the sponsor's support. And he was prepared and ready to fight for what it took. He was muscular, and well seasoned. Lorna was not.

It was as simple as that, he realised, as Sulla rubbed some sort of lotion over his body to make him shine.

He sighed again.

Great one.

Lorna saw her brother's look and no matter how weird the two were at the moment she couldn't help the snort that escaped her.

The moment of laughter was cut short by his look and Finnick looked at him sharply as Mags just patted her shoulder and muttered "Pretty".

Worry lines creased her forehead, which just caused Grant to frown even more.

Great. Just great.

"Arnold." she almost demanded his attention, "I don't like this either, but I'm going to need you, you can't just leave me like this," she hissed, pulling him close.

Arnold raised an eyebrow, allowing her to pull him nearer to her.

"Don't you look nice," he commented, being practically pushed into the chariot. He quickly glanced at everyone else and was relieved to find that at least District Twelve had more embarrassing outfits than his.

"Don't do this to me!" she didn't even force a smile. They should see what they had done. What they were going to ruin.

So she let all her emotions shine clearly on her face. This would probably ruin any attempt that her team or Anna had made to make her seem sweet and smiling.

She just looked weak and sad and very tired for the fact that she had only been there for a day or so.

Arnold actually acted the part as the doors swung open and the chariots rolled out, the hot lights making the lotion glisten on his body and the waves on his arms glitter as he stared at the cameras, his face set, but letting a smirk play on his lips. He even occasionally winked at a few female members of the audience. He'd watched enough of these parades to know how they worked. At least he didn't look like the guy from Five, who looked like he'd run into a few too many doors.

"The audience need something to work with if you want to survive," he muttered to Lorna, grasping her hand and raising them both into the air, to a wave of 'Aww' from the audience.

Lorna looked at him and when he raised her hand she gave the audience something to work with.

She started crying. Not sobbing or anything, but she let tears run down her face from her blue eyes, now every bit the pity party that the audience was touched by.

And she was genuinely getting upset at Arnold. It was like one minute he was ignoring her, the next he was helping, or something like it.

It was confusing as hell, she was sad as hell, she was frustrated as hell and this whole place was just hell.

Bloody hell.

Literally.

"Choose a side Arnold, are you trying to help me or hate me?" she whispered, looking like a poor little girl with whom the audience could have a pity party.

Arnold's face didn't falter, his blue eyes playing up his tanned skin and brown hair. He saw himself in the big screens and was actually shocked that he was beginning to look like the token super-hunky guy they had every year.

And they generally got sponsors. But he wouldn't raise his hopes too high.

"I have, Lorna," was all he said, as the chariots made one last round and people clapped. "Now keep doing whatever you're doing. Wait."

Then he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and raising a hand to the camera, his face still serious. It was clear to the audience what he meant by that – he would support her at all costs.

The chariots headed back to backstage, and Arnold relinquished hold of Lorna for the moment as Finnick and Mags nodded their approval. Anna clapped excitedly and a few of the District's tributes shot interested looks at them.

Surprise colouring her features for a moment she let him hold her and felt her stance relaxing in the familiar feeling. Tears stilling running down her face as she sniffled softly. It was all real, too real for her. And surreal at the same time.

Anna approached her backstage to congratulate her on her 'performance', which only earned her a glare from the Tribute.

Startling Lorna turned around sharply as she felt a light tap on her shoulder, coming face to face with...a tissue?

Ah, there was a face behind the tissue.

A nice face.

Very nice.

She knew that face...

"Hey, looks like you might need this?"

It was the male tribute from District Seven, dark hair and dark green eyes. Lorna tried to remember what his District stood for. Ah, Lumber!

Hence the look he sported. The team had tried to go with something traditional to win nostalgia points, so they'd given him a red checked shirt, and tight, dark pants.

Heart-winning and obvious that his team was playing a similar card with him as Arnolds was with him.

But he did looked the part, about seventeen, maybe sixteen. Muscular. Soft smile. The beginnings of stubble on his cheeks and chin.

Lorna was not a fool, but he seemed to genuinely want to somewhat be nice to her and she was still pretty upset. Given the fact that they were all going to die except one, that was understandable.

"Thank you." She accepted the token and wiped her eyes, careful of the makeup, lest Grant go berserk.

"I didn't catch your name, I'm Raul Porter. Seventeen years old yesterday and not ready for this at all."

"Lorna, Lorna Asters. I'd be seventeen next month, but I severely doubt that's going to happen..."

"Oh, that's you? I didn't recognize you, you and your brother were called in the reaping..." his expression softened.

"Yes. His name is Arnold." She looked down, taking a deep breath to keep from crying, again. That was all she seemed to be doing in the past 48 hours.

Arnold, however, walked straight past Lorna, having pushed his prep team away from rubbing yet more lotion on his chest. He felt...well, he kind of felt dirty. He strode straight past most of the tributes, and to the vehicle that would take him back to the hotel, ignoring the other tributes. He didn't want to get to familiar with the people he'd have to kill.

Because he knew he'd have to.

"Are you okay? Ah- stupid question, I guess. Sorry, I'm trying to deny this is happening as long as I can. I'm not very good with words."

"It's fine, I understand. I don't know. It's so...unreal...to see all these people and think...only one is going to make it..." she tried to ignore that she would never leave the arena alive if Raul did, but if he won she didn't think she'd mind. He seemed nice, honest. Real.

"I think you're doing alright. With words, I mean. Most people can't look me in the eye, granted, I can't do it myself..."

"Yeah, thanks, no problem," he shuddered, "I don't want to kill anyone-" He broke off his sentence, as if he'd told some secret. His words were of no real surprise to Lorna, who definitely didn't want to kill anyone.

"I don't either," she gave him a weak smile, "You're not alone in that." After she met his gaze she gave him the handkerchief back, but he closed her fist around it gently.

"You'll need this, I think. May the odds ever be in your favour, Lorna Asters."

Gratefully she nodded, and then she left. Going after Arnold. To the hotel. Where her heart could calm down. And she could stop making her life so complicated, short as it would likely be.