(A/N: It took me far too long to type this up! Im sorry, whoever reads this fic! School started and I put this on hold for a bit. *coughwriter'sblockcough*)


The Capitol

The Capitol is magnificent in its own right. The towering buildings are so high their tops are hidden in the clouds. The people on the ground below look like strange animals, clad in fur and brightly colored feathers. They stop what they're doing and point at my train rolling in. Fresh meat. Time for the fun to start.

Despite the extravagance of the Capitol, there's a distinct synthetic quality to it. The shades of green are like nothing I've seen in nature. Everything is unnatural, from the glowing blues to the burning oranges and yellows. I don't understand how the Capitol citizens see this as attractive.

It'll still be a few hours until we reach the train station, so we decide to have breakfast. We're each given a bowl of hot cereal, a side of fresh fruit, some rolls for us to share, a glass of orange juice, and a mug of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate. My mouth waters at the sight of it. I haven't had any of that stuff in years, and that was long before the rebellion.

Hunter, Lyra, and I take our seats. Angora is nowhere to be found. I guess she's sleeping in. Oh well, her loss. While Hunter and I stuff ourselves, Lyra says, "When we arrive, you're going to be handed over to your stylists and prep teams. What they do to you won't be pretty. Just don't fight them, okay? Be good kids like your parents taught you."

I can imagine what they'll do. Probably turn us into trees, being from District Seven and all. Trees aren't exactly threatening, but it could be worse. I could be a loaf of bread from Eleven or a dusty miner from Twelve. I nod since my mouth is full.

Lyra continues, "In addition to the presentations on the chariot, you have training sessions to help prepare for the arena. You have three days to learn combat and survival skills. It all ends with your private session with the Gamemakers. Be sure to impress them, since good scores mean more sponsors."

We finally finish breakfast. I ask, "So we hone our skills, right? That's what us to do?" Because really, there's no point in trying to learn something you're no good at. You can't learn much in three days anyway.

"Not quite," she answers. "Mask your real skills a bit. Showing off will only make you a target and put you at a disadvantage. The others will learn your strengths and learn how to counter them. Pick up some more survival skills, though. They should help you more than combat will."

Hunter decides to join in on the conversation. "Right. Survival shouldn't be too hard. I mean, we've been doing that all our lives. That part of the Games won't be too different."

Lyra chuckles darkly in response. "You'd be surprised. You've seen the arenas."

Yes, we have. And that is exactly why we are trying to gain weight before we get thrown together. The rich fare is almost too much for me to handle, but I manage to keep it down. I'm determined to last as long as possible in these awful Games. With breakfast over, we retreat to our rooms to kill some time. There's still an hour or so left before we arrive at the station because the other tributes have to be filmed first.

I lay on my bed and think of home. I remember times before the Dark Days, times of relative peace. A time when I was happy. I listen to Ruby's laugh, high and tinkling like bell chimes. I watch my mother sashay around the kitchen, humming a little tune. Feel a seven year old Lavender tugging on my sleeve, asking to see something shiny that caught her eye in passing.

That was a bad idea. The homesickness hit me like a sledgehammer. I'm clutching my chest and gasping for air before I realize what I'm doing. I want to cry now, but I can't. We'll be arriving at the station soon, and I can't let the Capitol see that I've cried. You've said your goodbyes. Push those thoughts away and focus on the present. Crying shows weakness. Happiness shows naiveté. Anger is a lack of control. There's really no acceptable expression, so I decide to go against Lyra's advice and scare the Capitol reporters. Maybe someone will be willing to sponsor the wild girl from Seven.

There's a knock at the door. It's angora, telling me to get ready because we'll be pulling into the station in a few minutes. I don't move. A few minutes to her is an hour in reality. When I get up, I dress in simple clothes and muss my hair so it looks matted and tangled when it can be easily brushed out. Oh yes Angora, I did just as you said. I got ready, just not to your standards. Every little rebellion. I smirk in anticipation of the cameras. A look out the window tells me we're about to pull into the station. Showtime.

Another knock at the door. This time, it's Hunter. "Come on, Aera. Time to face the paparazzi again." I can just imagine him rolling his eyes. I throw open the door to find that he's dressed in a light blue dress shirt and black pants. The stark contrast between us just makes us burst out laughing.

"Look at you. Just…look." He has to pause a bit to catch his breath. "Here I am all dressed up, and you look like that. Completely uncivilized by Capitol standards. I can just hear it now. 'Ladies and gentlemen, the savage of District Seven!' I wonder if people will think you're not entirely sane."

I pout slightly and innocently ask, "A little insane? Aren't we all?" He quickly agrees.

We make our way to the main car, and Angora gasps at the sight of me. "Aera!" she cries. "Heavens, look at you! Didn't you clean up at all when I told you we'd be arriving soon?"

"Of course I did, Angora. Just not to Capitol standards."

"Forget Capitol standards, even District Twelve would shun you! You look like a complete barbarian!" Her shrill screams echo around the car and I'm enjoying her discomfort greatly.

Lyra eyes me suspiciously. "I see you've decided to ignore me. At the very least, fix your hair. That's a little overkill with your look." I smooth it out a bit. She gives me a somewhat-approving nod. "Good enough."

The doors slide open and Angora walks out. Fifteen steps later, Lyra follows. Fifteen more, and Hunter and I exit the car. Again, I have a smirk on my face. I notice that the reporters are standing a little farther back than they were back home, when they were practically on top of us. I drop into a half crouch and growl, making everyone take a step back. I run and snap at one of the cameras, making its holder give a faint shriek. This is just too fun.

Both Angora and Lyra are shooting me disapproving scowls, and I know I have to end my little game. I straighten up and meet my mentor and escort, who are waiting in front of the car that will take us to the Remake Center. We drive off with the cameras flashing after us.