When we reached the tunnels, my heart felt like it was racing even faster than before; but why? I'm not entering the arena just yet, so why am I nervous about the chariot ride? Was it because I have a chance of seeing this sponsor my crew was talking about out in the stands, or was it the eyes of everyone that's getting me so riled up? No, it has to be the eyes, it's got to be, I don't even know this Toffee guy and he doesn't know me, so why would I be nervous about him seeing me? After all, if they say he hasn't sponsored a tribute since his take over on his father's business, chances are he's not going to sponsor a tribute this year either.
"Well, darling," Delilah commented, breaking me out of my thoughts, "Your chariot awaits."
The chariot looked absolutely stunning; coated in a darker tone of green with a light green rim, decorated with sand dollars and different sea shells to give it the vibe of being underwater for centuries. The wheels looked normal, but the only detail that made it unique were the giant sea stars on them. Even the horses were 'dressed' up for the theme, having the same color painted on to their coats with a horse friendly dye, and bone like armor similar to the armor on my arms.
My admiration was short lived for the beautiful chariot as I was moved on up into the chariot. Upon stepping on it, the base of the chariot was cushioned by a pillow like floor, comforting my feet after the long walk without shoes. With all this comfort, I keep forgetting that the only reason I'm being pampered was because I was a tribute waiting for the day I die.
"Smile darling, that's your secret weapon!" encouraged Delilah.
Delilah's right; my only weapon is my smile to win over the crowd, but even then that won't do me any good to win the games, if anything it'll disappoint them, maybe even depress them that a smile has turned into a face of despair. Or they might love it, depending if they find my smile rather diminishing of the games and want me killed for it, or think it's my way of saying 'Hey, I'm ready for death to come my way'. Either way, the chariots started to move and the lights started to grow brighter as we rode into view.
As the horses galloped along, the crowds grew wild as the tributes were in view and adored the outfits we wore. Their clapping was extremely loud, and their feet were stomping the bleachers, shaking the very ground with excitement.
While I was smiling and waving at the crowds, many people were starting to adore me; the women were growing envious of my dark hair and pale skin, the men wished they could touch the curves of my body, and the children were begging their parents to have a toy that looked exactly like me (how they were able to make these dolls in such short notice baffles me). I guess my smile really was powerful, or so I thought; when the chariot passed the sponsor's booth, I noticed a reptilian-like man sitting in his posh seat, unfazed by the smile I had. Instead of growing interested, he looked like he was not amused by this year's tributes and wanted to leave immediately to rid himself of this 'holiday'.
The next thing I knew, the chariot was slowing down; starting to circle around a miniature 'island' of asphalt, before making a complete stop in front of the podium where the announcer and game maker would make the announcements for this year's Hunger Games. As much as I wanted to listen to his announcements I knew that it wouldn't be any different from the other announcements from the previous years. Instead my attention was on that sponsor up in the booth, something about him drew me in to his character; who was he? Then I saw it; that tint of yellow in his eyes, was that... Toffee? Whoever he was, he looked like he was staring right at me.
I felt a shudder run down my spine as I felt his eyes on me; as if he's paying attention to the games for once. I immediately turned my head towards the podium when the last announcement was made and the audience applauded. Whatever the announcer said, I'm sure it's to be true about the games.
As me and Kennedy got off the chariot and walked off to our rooms to get ready for training, I felt my breathing grow shallow and felt my very being lose balance. I needed the help of Delilah and the make up artist to keep me up to and during the elevator ride.
"Darling what happened out there? One minute you're fine, the next you're on the brink of fainting. What is it that you saw that's causing you to act like this?" asked Delilah.
"I-I saw him, I saw Toffee," I muttered, taking shallow breaths, "H-He's as intimidating as you said."
"Darling there's nothing to be afraid of; sponsors can only view tributes from afar," Delilah responded.
"But isn't he an exception? I did say he has access to almost everything when it comes to the games," said the make up artist.
"No you didn't!" argued Delilah. The two soon started bickering over the previous conversation mentioning Toffee.
I tried blocking them out and tried to drag me back to my own thoughts; there was no likely chance that he saw me, especially with how far away he was. I held on to this thought, but something about it didn't secure me at all.
"Well darling, we've arrived at your floor," said Delilah, breaking my thoughts once more, "Your uniform is in your room which is to your right dear. Now, chop chop; you'll be training in fifteen minutes."
I walked as slowly and as steadily as my legs could to my room, once there, I looked at the gray and red uniform neatly folded on my bed. Unfolding it, I assume it was too big for me, but upon trying it on, it was a perfect fit. As I walked out of my room to wait for my mentor and Kennedy, my thoughts instantly went to the lizard sponsor; why can't I shake that menacing looking lizard out of my head? Why can't he just leave my thoughts alone?
The bar was filled with a multitude of sponsors, already laughing it up about their choice of tribute while under the influence of alcohol. One sponsor in particular, sat among the others with a single shot glass of Swamp Water and a sober mind; simply observing the others in their time of fun. He simply rolled his eyes every time they bring up a tribute that they considered worth sponsoring for the games, but he'd rather be at his desk filling out the paper work that needs to be filled out.
"What's the point? They're just going to die anyway," thought the sponsor, as he steadily drank his beverage.
"So, any thoughts on that female tribute from District four?" asked another sponsor.
"She's all looks, no muscle; she wouldn't last ten seconds in the arena."
"Yeah, she'd be better off as an Avox or a servant. Bet'cha she can make a great maid."
"Yeah right, she'd be a great play thing for my son if she even survives."
The young sponsor felt disgusted as they talked about the young tribute, why did he feel offended by their insults? Why does he have a growing hate towards his 'fellow' sponsors? Was it because of the innocent look in her eyes that the very thought of destroying her and turning her into someone's personal servant or play thing really tick him off? Finally, upon the brink of anger, he broke his shot glass in his own hand, the sound startling them all despite being drunk.
"T-Toffee buddy, what's gotten into you?!"
His acquaintance was right; what has gotten into him? Why did he have the urge to protect this tribute who he doesn't know nor care about? He looked at his very hand that was dripping of alcohol and blood and simply shook his head. "Apologies, I must have gotten too deep into thought," he responded as he got up to the bartender and paid for his drink, as well as paying extra for breaking the shot glass. Before leaving, he entered the facilities and washed off his cuts of excess blood and alcohol. Despite having the ability to regenerate limbs and cut skin, he still had standards of filthy injuries. Once his skin grew back, he bid farewell to the sponsors and walked on home. "Gentlemen," he muttered under his breath, "Let the games begin."