Hi, guys. So, as you may have noticed, I've taken down the character-list that was on my profile. People just weren't sending in characters, you know? But, that's okay. I think I have just enough juice in my brain to make my own! Please review and enjoy.
Even through the intricately-etched glass of the train window- which makes the buildings even more distorted and mismatched- I have to admit the Capitol is beautiful, in a winding, rebel-ish way. Ironic, considering how much they hate the rule-breakers.
I don't linger too long, shifting my worn boots along the soft fabric of the carpet as I make my way towards the sitting room. No doubt Jonah or Karter are already up; For some reason, they're always the first awake out of all of us.
Of course, it's just as I predicted; Karter is slumped on the couch, biting one thumbnail, his brown gaze transfixed on the screen. Jonah is curled up in one of the comfy leather chairs, colored stark white; He holds a glass of orange liquid in one hand and a triangle of hard, speckled bread in the other. He's watching the television, too, but certainly not as intensely as the other tribute.
His head jerks up when he sees me, and I can see the muscles in his neck tighten. A vacant look enters his eyes, but its gone just as quickly- He swishes the glass in his hand, shakes his head, and tilts the cup back. I can see his adam's apple bobbing as the liquid moves down his throat.
"Morning," Is all he says. His voice is flat, maybe a little sad; I've never been good at reading people. I only give him a nod and start towards the table, where the general aroma of breakfast is coming from- buttered bread, hard or soft, eggs, salted or peppered, bacon, crispy and shining with grease; And three or four different types of juice- The type of standard meal people are supposed to have in the morning, but never do. My stomach curls, both with hunger and disgust.
I'm not too picky with my food, because in District 10 I always had lots of choices. I scoop up two eggs, some bread, and a slab of cheese, which is the general meal in District 10. I've always liked stirring the cheese- Souring the milk and rennet into little blocks of curd. I might have taken the pepper, too, but I just don't do spicy.
I'm not in the mood to sit next to either tribute, so I place myself at the table instead, slicing the egg in half with my fork. My mouth waters when steam spills from the center, chunks of yellow mush spilling onto the plate- But I'm too hungry to be neat. I stuff one half of the egg in my mouth and take a small bite of the bread and cheese. The result is so delicious I nearly melt on the spot.
"I see someone's sticking to their District." I glance over my shoulder, egg crumbs scattered over my chin. Wylie has appeared in the hall, and she makes it towards me quickly enough- Moving with that swaggering, hip-waving, shoulder-rolling walk of hers, equal parts awkward and graceful.
"I like eggs," Is all I can say, which sounds so stupid in my ears I turn back around to finish my bread.
Wylie takes the same thing I do, but adds an apple, which somehow surprises me. Then I remember last night, when I'd realized she was a vegetarian.
She sees me looking and arches a brow. "Is it a crime to be healthy?" She hums, then snaps open the apple with a knife and takes a healthy bite. I wince and focus on my breakfast.
It's not long before the rest of the crew is up- As in Dimond, Erika, Kyle, and Jangerine. The latter flounces in, all stark-white makeup and flashing colors. I avert my eyes as quickly as possible.
Erika is glowering as usual, her reddish-brown hair a mess and her hazel eyes dark with anger. Kyle trails after her, a small frown on his face, his brow furrowed. Dimond is..Well, Dimond. She skips along, not overly happy but not too angry either, looking perfectly content. I push my plate away, wishing I could feel the same.
"Morning morning mor-ning tributes! Isn't this an exciting day? Our first visit to the Capitol!" Jangerine twirls towards the table, plucks a grape from the woven basket, and pops it in her mouth, all the while spinning on her heel and singing under her breath.
I resist the urge to groan, instead letting my shoulders slump. Wylie sighs, cradling her chin in one hand. "The quiet was nice while it lasted," Is all she says. Dimond shoots her a dirty look.
"Chop chop! Vale, I certainly hope that's not what you're wearing. I put far brighter outfits in your closet!" Jangerine pulls her orange lips into a little pout, but all I can do is cringe. I saw the outfits, all right- and there was no way I was going near them again.
"I'll change into something better," I mumble, and that's enough for her to squeal in delight. She turns to Wylie, and her expression sours.
"Hansen.." She trails off, scanning her up and down critically. Finally she gives a little bob of her head. "Your dress!"
Wylie glances down, her expression almost one of boredom. She's wearing a slim black dress and heels, with no jewelry or decoration except a woven reed bracelet on one wrist. Her jet-black hair is piled into a bun, and her pale skin is free of tattoos or stains.
"What?" She says, her voice flat. Jangerine blinks, and I swear I can see little flecks of glitter float from her lashes and drift to the ground ever so slowly. "Why..It's black. You can't go to the Capitol wearing black, dear. It's simply too...Dark." She purses her lips, like that's not the word she was looking for.
"I like dark," Wylie drawls, running a finger along her fork. "It fits me." Then she turns around and spoons the fleshy shell of the egg into her mouth, as if the conversation is over.
Jangerine frowns, but whoever it's aimed at doesn't react. She gives a small, short sigh. "Well..Remember, pumpkins, we'll be there in ten minutes at most. Just orient yourselves before then. She hesitates, performs a perfect spin on one heel, and sashays out of the room. Wylie makes a face at her back, scrunching up her nose. I think she's more angry about the black dress- and the fact that our escort has just called us pumpkins- then anything else.
I glance around as I scoot out of my chair and make my way to my room. Wylie is just getting up, sucking the butter off her fingers and stalking towards her own door. Karter is gone, probably off to get ready. Jonah is sitting in the exact same spot, though most of the orange-colored drink is almost gone now, and he has a faded green book in one hand. I sigh. It's time I get ready, too- Or at least educate myself on what's to come.
I check the time. Seven minutes till we got there, approximately. Seven minutes to read up on the Capitol. I can already feel the bags forming beneath my eyes. It's going to be a long day.
Sometimes I wish District 10 was assigned a better escort.
It's not that Jangerine is cruel, or even the fact that the colors she wears constantly threaten to give me a migraine; It's just the fact that she's so forgetful.
She click-clacks her way towards us, intruding on my privacy just as the Capitol comes into view fully- A sprawl of buildings and people, tall or short, black or white, female or male, all waving and twirling and screaming so loud the muted sound reaches my ears even through the thick, elaborate sheet of glass before me.
All I can think as the scene blurs by is, The Capitol reflects on its people. The buildings here are just as twisted and bright as the people inhabiting them, jagged glass or curling plastic or even wood. My head spins with the pure beauty of it all, the pure synchronization. It's like the city was meant for the people, and they know it.
She flutters her lashes, leaning over my shoulder and beaming. I'm practically shoved out of the way, but that's just fine; I move to the next pane of glass and plaster a smile on my face, tilting my hand in a sort of royal wave.
Kyle is standing in front of the screen, hands stuffed in his pockets and a brooding, dark look on his face that somehow makes the crowd go while. Girls wave at him overtime as we pass, jumping up and down and shouting his name in high-pitched voices that make the glass shake.
Wylie is having just as much luck. She's leaning forward on the sill, cradling her chin in one hand and giving the crowd a sly smirk. It makes her look beautiful, if not dangerous; The effect is doubled by the fact that, as always, she's wearing all black, including the makeup on her eyes and lips. Her icy-blue eyes sparkle with mischief.
Kyle has to boost himself up with his arms to be able to see. His eyes are wide and he's waving, too, but I don't know if the crowd likes him as much. They sure cheer and wave as his window blurs by, but whether its because they think he's cute or just because he's a tribute, I'll never know.
The train begins to glow slower, until I can individually pick out each person bobbing their heads and parting their lips for our names. Jangerine hustles over to the glass doors, her eyes bright with excitement.
"I'm afraid I forgot to tell you all, but your designers- Kyle and Karter will be sharing Maya because we're short on staff. Wylie, you'll have Baird, I think was his name; And Vale of course will be with Dimond. You'll also be sharing mentors, because..Well, District 10 isn't quite full on victors." She gives us a polite smile, then rattles off names: "Erika to Wylie and Vale, and Jonah to Karter and Kyle. Girls to girls, boys to boys." Wylie opens her mouth to ask a question, but snaps it close as the doors glide open.
I'm ushered out of the train and into the light, where everything is more confusing- The screaming and shoving of the crowds, the flashing white uniforms of the PeaceKeepers, their helmets sparkling in the sun; The buildings, tipped with points of light and sparkling like chrome, looming before me like vast giants of time.
The citizens are the worst part of it. I thought I would be prepared, seeing as we'd stopped before to switch trains; But it's like the opposite. I completely underestimated the pure will- The pure excitement- of these crowds. Their excitement to see us.
They're waving and screaming, piercing my ears and making my brains rattle in my skull. More then one hand smacks into my shoulder or face as I pass, and I'm constantly staggering forward and back to avoid being knocked into. I can barely follow the progress of my fellow tributes, who weave through the crowd- No, more like it parts for them- and I've fallen so far behind that it closes back up again just as I take a step forward.
I'm lost in the swell of bright colors and hoarse yelling. A hand grips my wrist, and I yank it away, spinning around and nearly falling- But then there's another hand, and another. Two strong arms grip my shoulders, guiding me through the crowd.
My first thought is, Kylnoe. I try to glance behind me, but my vision is still a blur of color and light. I turn back around, feeling just slightly sick. The hands shove me forward and, miraculously, I knock into Karter- We both stagger forward, but don't fall.
I whip around to thank my savior, but all I can see is a flash of white, and then they're swallowed by the crowd.
"Vale!" Someone is screaming my name- sharply, indivisually- over the noise of the citizens. I turn, slowly, my limbs feeling like lead and my eyes bouncing around in my head like marbles.
"Smile and wave, pumpkin! What did I tell you?!" I realize the only person in Panem who would willingly call me pumpkin is Jangerine, so I start forward again, this time passing my hand back and forth in what I hope passes as a wave- It's too late, too crowded, to do anything else to gain their favor. I try to fix a smile on my face, too, but that's just as difficult.
The entire place reeks of- well- everything in it. Perfume, sweat, and soap make a complicated aroma that weighs down the air, clinging to my clothes and swirling up my nostrils so fast I turn dizzy.
Finally it's over. We're lifted up, one by one, onto a platform, by strong arms that gleam white and stink of chemicals. I shy away from the PeaceKeepers, trying my best to keep hidden behind Wylie's much taller form.
The platform undoubtedly leads into a building, and sure enough we're shoved towards a steel door carved with various letters and markings. It opens and snaps shut just as quickly, but instead of engulfing us in darkness as I expected the room would, the place is sprawling.
The people here are dressed in finer clothing, if possible; They're dressed in comforting shades of white, beige and navy blue, stalking around in skyscraper heels and swiping their fingers through the air, dragging lines highlighted blue this and there- New technology.
Jangerine pulls us away from the crowd- One much smaller then the one outside- and into an elevator. It's a tight fit, and I find myself squished between Kyle and Karter; Wylie is in the far corner, shielded by Jangerine, whose skirt nearly fills the elevator all by itself. She chatters off instructions as the metal box lifts upward.
"Mind you, tributes, these are not your quarters. You're being sent here to be dressed, to meet your designers- Where they'll coordinate your outfits for the upcoming parade and thereafter." She glances at us from the corner of her eye, quipping, "You all do know what the parade is?"
Everyone but Karter nods. He's chewing on his nail again, cradling one arm with the other, his eyes dark as night. Jangerine doesn't seem intimidated or even caring- She only huffs, flapping a tattooed finger towards him. "Karter dear, stop chewing on your nails. It will certainly misalign your teeth and who knows whats under your cuticles? You could get sick easily." Karter only stares, slowly lowering his thumb and settling her with that pitch-black gaze.
Our escort shifts so her skirt plumes out, blocking her view of him. "The parade is the number one event before the arena; It's a design of your chariots, your outfits, your overall look. That is what will get you sponsors; Whether you want to look cute or dangerous or brooding, the parade is the way to set that on you. Remember now, don't pretend. If you try to look dangerous during the parade, that will stick with you; And if you don't look just as dangerous later, if not more so, your sponsors will drop you like a fly." Her eyes flash, and she glances over her skirt at Karter.
"I think he gets it, Tinkers," A sharp voice rumbles behind me. I jump, scooting against Karter. I'd forgotten Erika was there; She's glowering, her arms crossed and her hazel gaze fixed on our escort's like a hawk.
Jangerine gives a little 'harrumph', flouncing her skirt. The doors glide open, but she manages to be louder then the squeal of metal: "Only educating them as they should be." And then she's gone.
We all step out, scattering- Left, right, forward, and the two victors even go up another floor. The Peacekeepers are here, of course, and they seem to know exactly who we are; Each of us are whisked into indivisual rooms. I screech to a halt in front of the metal door, but its no use, because the man clad in white behind me gives a twist of his key and yanks it open.
I begin to turn back to him with an excuse- Bathroom, claustrophobia, you've-got-the-wrong-tribute- but he ignores me entirely, giving my one last dark look through the opaque glass of his helmet before slamming the door shut so hard my teeth rattle like bones in my mouth.
I gulp, rubbing my arms, because it's actually quite chilly. I tilt my face to the sky and frown. Where's Dimond?
My answer comes as if from magic- She appears in front of me, dressed in red and purple and silver, her outfit not as visually painful as Jangerine's but just about so.
Three figures melt from the shadows, and I let out a strangled curse, backing up against my designer. She only sends me a pretty smile and steps back.
Their faces come into view, illuminated harshly in the artificial light of the room- But they don't look mean, or even scary. In fact, they're all smiling. The first- a male- steps forward, and his accent is so heavy and thick it warps his words, grating on my ears painfully.
"Pleasure to meet you, miss Flemming. My apologies for frightening you?" The last statement somehow comes out as a question, and he bows. "I'll need you to remove your clothes now. We have work to do."
I almost have a heart attack, but at the look Dimond gives me, I let my shoulders relax. Of course- They had to undress me to treat me, didn't they? I feel embarrassed anyway as I shimmy out of my clothes.
I'm placed onto a metal table- Like an experiment. I push down the stirring in my gut, the feeling of dread, that rises at that thought, and instead focus on the smooth ceiling of the room. Even still I feel like there's worms- long slimy ones- shifting around in my stomach.
It's not that I'm nude, though that's plenty embarrassing, what with four- no, three people scanning me up and down critically, clucking their tongues under their breath and eyeing me as if I were an experiment. Deep down, I feel a sharp stab of betrayal; Dimond had left earlier, saying she had other things to do. She'd promised she'd be back, but I still gave her the evil eye when she left.
I've been waxed and shaved and washed and bathed- Everything burns and aches. I wonder if I'm dying, and I don't know it. I've read of things like that- People who have diseases or even cardiac arrest without really realizing it. That's exactly what I feel like now; The way they've prepared me, like a stuffed chicken, my limbs are sore and my skin is faintly pink. My eyebrows feel alien on my forehead, because they've been waxed- Then plucked- and my nails feel short and scratchy against the skin of my fingers. They too have been changed; Cut, filed, and washed thoroughly. What with all this, I feel like any moment now they'll boil me in a bucket of tar- Maybe for 'skin treatment?' I shudder, but it has nothing to do with the ice-cold table beneath me.
I mentally spin through the people in the room. They'd introduced them as a 'prep team-' Here to make you look absolutely fabulous for the Capitol, darling! And soon introduced themselves. The first one, who'd first spoken to me, had told me his name was Yamazen- as close as I could figure, anyway. Pronounced Jah-mah-zen. I'd asked him, politely, how it was spelled, but he'd only laughed breezily and flapped a hand, as if maybe I wouldn't be able to comprehend it anyway.
The memory makes my stomach churn and heat up as if with anger, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. He hadn't meant to be rude, I was sure, but it sure came out that way.
The second on my prep team is Nell. She moves with an effortless grace, gliding to and fro on the balls of her feet, her fingers moving with expert gentleness. She's beautiful, too, with smooth skin the color of warm caramel and dancing green eyes. Her hair is jet-black, gathered in a loose bun, wisps of it catching the air and twirling around her face as if it has a life of its own. She's the most quiet of the three- The only think she'll tell me is her name, and when I ask anything else, she'll only smile, her eyes twinkling, or gesture fluidly towards my other 'helpers'. And when she does speak, her accent isn't that of the Capitol; It's soft, a stirring behind her words like maybe this is her second language. I've never heard of any other, but of course she won't tell me where she's from.
Last but certainly not least is Elvira. She's the scariest of the three, no doubt.
Elvira is like Erika, but more beautiful; In a scary, daring way. Her skin is painted green, intricately designed to look like snake scales. They sure don't feel like that- Thank Panem- But somehow that makes it scarier.
She has a silver piercing in one brow, and when she first spoke to me I nearly had a heart attack- her tongue is forked, her teeth filed down to sharp points. Worse then that, they're tattooed; She's carved little runes into them that show the inner gray of the tooth. It made me want to hurl and still does, because all I can think of when I stare at her is how much it would of hurt to split your tongue in two like that- And to actually carve something in your teeth.
She has silver rings, decorated with runes, on each finger, and a thin gold band on one wrist. Her clothes are normal enough; She wears baggy gray pants and a tank top that shows off her disturbingly buff upper arms. Her eyes are just a shade lighter then her skin.
Elvira has a pixie cut like mine, but it's much neater, combed forward into a little curve at the top. It gives her a sort of devilish look, especially since the sides of her head are nearly completely shaved- and through the little points of dark brown stubble, you can see that her head is painted green, too.
A voice comes into focus, and I realize they've been having a conversation above me without my noticing. Yamazen's voice drifts towards me.
"We should wax her again," He tuts. "Her legs..."
"No, no, her legs are unimportant. She'll be wearing a dress, remember? But all that grime. Look at the poor girl's hair!"
"You have hair like that, Elvira-"
"Mine is better!"
They begin shrieking back and forth, Elvira snapping her pointed teeth- they've been filed- her snake tongue flickering in and out of her mouth. Yamazen looks just as frenzied, waving his hands and shrieking curses at her in that ridiculous accent of his; He's speaking faster and faster until no one can understand what he's saying because that accent is just too heavy.
Nell stands on the other side of the metal table that I've been glued to for the last three hours or so, amusement sparkling in her bright green eyes. Her lips are even curled in a faint smirk.
It seems the debate has died down a bit. "Let us scrub her just one more time! The soap will loosen all that hair, I promise. We can clean her hair, too! Three birds in one stone!" Elvira gives her partner a wolfish grin.
Yamazen's shoulders slump. He wrinkles his nose, then straightens, trying to look professional. "Fine, Elvira! If only because her hair is so dirty." I don't have the heart, energy, or guts to tell Elvira that its supposed to be two birds with one stone, not three.
I'm scrubbed down again- This time is more pleasant, maybe because I know what to expect. They lather me in bubbles and pink foam that smells, to my shock, of fresh dirt- Not of flowers or strawberries or anything like that. The scent is faint, not too strong, but it reminds me of home, and I can feel my eyes burn, and I know it's not from the chemicals in the air. I glance over at Nell, and she seems to read my mind.
Her voice is smooth and quiet as she leans forward. "It's soap per District. If you were District 12, you'd smell of coal. If you were district 7, we'd give you perfumes that remind one of the rolling forests, the scent of the trees.." She looks dazed for a moment, then shakes her head gently and steps back to continue washing me down.
Soon after they lay me in a tub of something that I remember should smell sharp, like smoke, but instead reminds me of goat fur. If I told anyone else I knew I'd be laughed at- Why would grease smell like fur, and why would I enjoy it?- But I revel in it for just a moment. The mixture brings a smile to my lips, and I'm able to hold back the tears this time; Besides, it soothes the skin, and I can feel it wiggling beneath to loosen all those hairs Yamazen worried about. The entire thing feels soothing and incredibly satisfying.
When I've laid in the grease- No, I can't call it that, the soap- For about an hour, I'm finally lifted out and seated onto the table. My feeling of relief vanishes as my prep team begins to circle me like sharks, their eyes bright.
"We did a wonderful job.." Yamazen hesitates, stealing a glance at me. "But, dear, her hair.."
Elvira doesn't seem to hear. "Told you it would work, didn't I?"
"Would you look at that, Elvira? You were right- There really is quite the girl if you just give her a bit of cleaning." Yamazen blinks, as if he's forgotten all about what he just said, and flashes me a grin. I try, hesitantly, to return it, and for once, it works. In my head, though, I feel a niggle of annoyance- A bit of cleaning? Despite the grease earlier, I still ache all over. Calling that a bit of cleaning is like calling a surgery a bit here and there. I know I haven't forgotten about that comment on my hair either, which I find perfectly clean. All this sours my mood, but one person in particular always knows how to cheer me up- Even if she's only known me for a few hours.
"She certainly is beautiful," Nell murmurs behind me, and I blink, hard, then swallow and give her the same brittle smile. Her eyes dance, but she looks away first. I try not to feel disappointed.
"Just wait, miss Flemming. Dimond will be here shortly, yes? Relax yourself." I choke out a 'thank you' or maybe a 'help', and he smiles, patting my shoulder. I flinch, because I'm still nude, but he only laughs.
"It was a pleasure working with you, Vale," Elvira purrs, her forked tongue flickering out from between her lips. My eye twitches and I manage a smile for her, too, and then they're all gone.
I hunch my shoulders and gather my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself- Mentally. Physically I scoot down until I have enough room to lay on my back, because I know that when Dimond comes in, she'll force me to uncurl myself anyway. Besides, we're both girls. The thought makes it more bearable, and I close my eyes, but the white light above me still manages to penetrate my lids if only faintly. My brow furrows, but I ignore the minor discomfort.
And so I wait.