A/N- I was just staring at my closet looking for SOMETHING to wear tomorrow when I was like OMG FANFICTION UPDATE NINJA! And then I updated.
See that? I'm trying to start a 'thing'- someone PM's you FANFICTION UPDATE NINJA and then... you update? So what do you think? Could it catch on?
Disclaimer- I don't own anything but FFiction Update Ninja.
This Time- Chapter 4- Chariot Rides
Tucker Hampton- 9
I stood stiffly as my stylist, Harry, circled around me, slowly evaluating me. He was trying to prepare me for the chariot rides, which would be taking place in a few hours. Frankly, I was terrified. Everyone was going to be judging me, my strength, my appearance, deciding if it was worth dipping into their funds to save my life. Not a very pleasant situation to be in.
Harry had apparently seen enough, so he motioned to a nearby couch and we sat down. He cleared his throat and swept his jet-black hair out of his eyes, grinning as he did so.
I sat silently until he said, "How do you feel about matching outfits?" My eyebrows rose and he said, "You know, with Jeannie. I was thinking something not too feminine or masculine, so everything's coordinated."
I laughed and said, "Harry, I honestly couldn't care less what Jeannie is wearing, or what I'm wearing, for that matter. Just use your best style sense."
I suppose that was the wrong thing to say, because he got this crazy look on his face and said, "I hoped you'd say that. I have something made for you already. Put your original outfit back on and let's go."
He led me out of the studio into a storage closet. I pushed open the door and saw two intricate gray jumpsuits stitched with factory designs partially obscured by a cloud of smoke. I immediately started coughing, the smoke irritating my throat, and he rushed to shut the door.
He clarified, "Of course, the smoke machines need some adjusting. That could be a problem…"
Natalie Richards- 7
My eyebrows flew upwards as I saw what my crazy stylist, Maggie, intended to put me in. The outfit itself was nice enough; a pale brown dress with dark green embroidery, but the shoes were another matter entirely.
She had her heart set on an insane pair of lime green stilettos, which were at least six inches tall, with a fake pinecone glued to the tops. Her idea was to "make me supermodel-tall to match my supermodel looks"- her words, not mine. Apparently, that meant me twisting my ankles and my feet bleeding.
I argued, "How am I supposed to stand up in those? I'll trip all over myself! And what's with the pinecone, anyway?"
"I'm TRYING to get you sponsors, here! They like the tributes who look powerful, and height can make a girl look intimidating to the competitors. That will portray you as a threat. I don't see why you don't like the pinecone either, it's meant to symbolize a connection with nature. That's important, since the Games are always outside," she countered.
I rolled my eyes at her apparent insanity and resigned myself to my fate. There would be bigger battles to fight later, and heels certainly wouldn't kill me.
Gregory Slade- 5
I stared incredulously at my reflection in the mirror. I looked SEXY as a claymore! Sure, the costume was made of polyester and metal which wasn't the most comfortable, and I had to stand with my feet apart so I didn't start rolling around like a bowling ball, and it was the ugliest shade of gray my stylist, Tammy , could think of, but I looked hot!
I grinned and struck a model pose, pouting my lips and strutting around the room. I barely noticed Becca come in until I heart muffled snorts of laughter and spun around. She was bent in half, in tears laughing so hard.
She said, "C'mon, fashion star, it's my mirror time."
"You're just jealous because I look better in a claymore than you do," I retorted.
"Yes. I'm jealous of you because while I'm in an adorable gray dress you're dressed like a CLAYMORE."
That didn't even deserve a response. I plugged my ears, stuck out my tongue, and started humming the Capitol anthem as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. Becca rolled her eyes and walked away, muttering about 'idiot tributes'. I assume she meant those snotty careers- I was perfectly adorable! She can't help but love me; it's just a matter of time.
Annabelle Kelly- 4
I fidgeted uncomfortably as I stumbled into the chariot, barely managing to stay upright in my strappy sandals. My silk blue prom dress rippled around my feet, making me stumble. When I managed to end up in the chariot, my immaculately styled blonde hair was in disarray around my face and my cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.
Drake snickered, instantly withering when I shot him one of my famous death glares. I ignored him and evaluated the other tributes. District 1 looked shiny as usual, the very picture of excess. Their horses even had paper horns taped on their heads so they looked like unicorns. What airheads.
The costumes got progressively worse as the tributes from the poorer districts arrived. The costumes were getting from bad to awful.
This part of the Games was the worst- we had to smile and pretend we're happy to please the people who can buy our survival with the press of a button. The fact that they usually don't alone should have put an end to this idiocy, but no. The tradition's still going strong.
Drake stiffened next to me as the horses started moving. I found myself thinking of Quinn as the first districts were pulled into the ring. Was he thinking of me right now?
Thomas Lieu- 12
I grimaced as the Careers glided into the ring, their dresses flowing gracefully, their over-styled hair enhanced to give the appearance of flowing in the nonexistent wind. Meanwhile, both I and Bea, my district partner, are wearing hideously baggy coal-mining outfits.
It would have been bad enough if they looked realistic, but no. They had to be real. They were scratchy, covered in coal dust and five sizes too big. At least I had it better than Bea- hers looked like it had belonged to an overweight man and was big enough she could fit three people in it.
As I stared in pity, she caught my eye and smirked. She nudged me with her elbow and said, "You know, we would make a pretty good team. You've got strength- I can tell- and I've got the brain power. If we team up, we have a pretty good chance of winning. So what do you say?"
I stared at her in shock, slowly digesting what she said. Did she seriously want to team up with me, Thomas Lieu, the loner?
She cleared her throat and said, "Well? What do you say?"
At a loss for words, I nodded yes as our horses pulled into the ring and the flashing of the cameras blinded me. I plastered a grin on my face and prepared myself for the worst.
Melissa Smudger- 11
I doubled over laughing as Gregory Slade finished his joke about the mailman in the bar. After I was taken around the ring in an annoyingly realistic harvest outfit, I bumped into Gregory in the elevator. I complimented him on his costume and he pretended to eat the fruit hanging on my hat. After that, it was pure friendship.
I was still in shock about being here- since when did twelve-almost-thirteen girls from nowhere get to be on TV in the Capitol? Never! I'll admit it- I'm pretty star-struck right now. All of these famous stylists, athletes, television hosts, all dedicated to serving me! Of course, there is that whole unfortunate fight-to-the-death thing going on, but that's not until later. I'm going to enjoy myself while I can.
I guess I had spaced out for a while, because Gregory had started poking me and yelling, "YO MELLIE!" in my ear. I jolted back to reality and grinned sheepishly. He was cute when he was annoyed.
