I apologise for the completely random bits in this chapter which are completely irrelevent to the whole fanfiction. But anyway, thank you so much everyone who is reading this, I'd really love to hear your feedback as it really makes my day and gives me an insight into what you'd like to see and your views on my writing! I put as much time as I can into this so some reviews saying if you like it or not! It will only help me! Thank you!

After a short time in the tribute's remake centre I am taken into a room. I sit down in the soft armchair and wait for my stylist – who is late. After about an hour of me sitting there, bored, the silver medal door swings open and in bursts an excitable woman with a tall pink curly wig and a tutu. Great – I've got that sort of Capitol person. Why the heck couldn't I have had someone more realistic than that.

"Hello!" she says excitably in that annoying Capitol accent. "I am Florence Gavinchi and I am your stylist!" I nod and try to smile, feeling awkward. I like the games, but being overly excited about everything which is to do with the games but not the games is a bit crazy to me. All of this rubbish before is a waste of time – just put us in the arena clothes and push us in! It's their own fault if they don't know survival skills, and it's better for us districts who do. I suppose that the victory tour is alright, because victors saying speeches apologising to their dead tributes is kind of nice I must admit. But all the Capitol rubbish is nothing important at all – it makes us rich and famous for a couple of days before we fight to our death. Sometimes stylists make the tributes look amazing so they get so many sponsors and leave the rest of the tributes feeling a bit left out and like losers, and the "more famous" tributes get to see their death first. Which is exactly why I really hope that I'm more normal. No flashy stuff please, just a normal interview outfit and something which won't make us the stars of the tribute parade.

"You and Skye are going to be little fishies for the tribute parade!" she says enthusiastically. So I'm going to wear a stupid fish outfit. Great. Just what I wanted. Adding to that, she can quit babying us – we're sixteen and eighteen, not six and eight. And even six and eight year olds would not find this treatment alright.

It turns out that the fish costume is actually less fishy than I expected. We wear a bit of silverish blue and some nets, so we're more like half-dead and unhabppy caught fish than alive, swimming, happy fish, which I'm more than happy with. I wear a pair of metallic blue leggings and a top which has a diagonal cut on the right side with a silver, glittery fishnet across my right side. I wear dark eye liner but other than that and some silver eye shadow there's no make-up to be seen and my hair is in a loose fishtail braid. Skye looks great in his loose-fitting trousers of the same colour and he's topless. Maybe Florence is alright then – he seems impresed. I'm not dreading the interview outfit half as much as I was originally now. The babying is quite silly, but at least she can do her job! I might possibly be actually looking forward to this parade.

It's dark outside this year – sometimes the time of the parade varies, and last year it was in broad daylight, but this year it's being held at nine at night. Apparently the Capitol looks incredible at night (what Finnick said, anyway). At first I don't know whether or not to believe him, but when I step out of the elevator into the carriage way I am proved right. I walk, stunned silent by the sheer beauty of a place where I have grown up l loathing, and lean against one of my horses in awe. He's a massive black creature decorated with white roses, matching the rest in the square. I completely forgot about the horses. I love horses just as much as I love swimming. We have a couple back home in District Four and I have never really thought about them since yesterday. I whisper in his ear, so lost in the sweet natural smell of horse. It's the first thing here which isn't artificial. I barely notice Skye as he walks up, causing me to jump.

"So you like horses, huh?" he says suddenly, standing right by the magnificent creatures head. That's the first time I've actually spoken to him and the first time he's sounded anything but grumpy.

"You look great," I blurt out, completely unsure what to wear.

"You too," he tells me. "Please answer my question in the future. So, do you like horses?"

"Yeah," I say, trying not to sound like I like them as much as I actually do. "Only proper things here. Everything else is... fake."

"So our clothes are fake," he says. I like his sense of humour.

"Well... they're not the nicest things ever," I admit, with a smile. He smiles back.

"I think they're nice enough to make us look good enough. District Twelve are naked this year," I can't help laughing.

"What?!"

"They're stylist spraypainted them black. No clothes,"

"What about the rest of them?" I ask curiously.

"They're ok,"

"Glad to hear it," I say, quickly looking around the room. One and Two look good - very metallic in the Career districts this year then. Seven looks like trees. The rest look decent enough. "Except I don't think the horse likes your outfit very much."

"So you can now read horses' minds," he says sarcastically.

"It's not rocket science," I say. "His ears are flat back. He's angry." Just as Skye looks around the horse turns to nip him on the back side. He gives a little squeal and jumps away quickly.

"You were right," he says. "Well done. We have an animal tamer in this arena then."

"Animals in the arena will be there for us to eat and for them to eat us, so I don't take the job," Skye looks as if he's going to say something but we are interrupted by someone telling us to mount our carriages. A couple of minutes later the anthem plays and the horses move forwards. It's not too hard, this parading, because all I really need to do is smile and wave. Then there's a boring, long speech from President Snow, then we are paraded back into the carriageway where we are smothered in well dones. It isn't hard. They should really try doing it one day. Finnick then walks over, accompanied by victor of the 64th Hunger Games, Cashmere, and her tributes.

"This is Cashmere," Finnick tells us as Cashmere smiles. "We just wanted to introduce you four tributes to eachother quickly. Annie and Skye, this is Rosanna and Ivan. Rosanna and Ivan this is Annie and Skye." I smile at them and me and Skye shake hands with Ivan. Rosanna stays in the background but gives us a quick smile. I smile back.

"You can get to know eachother better in training tomorrow. I was just about to chase up District Two but it looks like Brutus has taken them back to their apartment. For now, I must really be going." I can see Cashmere sigh and give Finnick a look, and he gives her a sympathetic one back. "I'll see you guys later then." We take the lift back to our apartment where we sit around silent for a while before eating dinner, where Libby (who has obviously just met up with her Capitol friends) can't stop talking. The food is nice but I'm not really hungry – strange seeing as I'm always starving and haven't eaten much today. I manage some meat and a slice of cake but that's all.

"See you tomorrow," I say, getting up as Skye helps himself to his fifth slice of chocolate torte.

"You're going to bed?" Finnick says, sounding suprised. "Now?" I nod.

"I need some sleep. I didn't get much last night and I'm really tired," I say. Sounds like a lie, but it really is the truth. "Bye." What is really strange is that I feel exhausted but it takes me until every door has shut and every light has been switched off (presumably) to get to sleep. Eventually I drift off into a dreamless sleep. Eventually...