Hey everyone! I wanted to toss something in before I went to the chariot rides, so here you go! I drew the names that I would write from from a hat so yeah! If you liked this chapter you should leave a review. Love you guys!
Samantha Sten
I was having one of the good ones. Dreams that is. I was back home, with Rosie, with my family, and I was anywhere but here. When I wake up, I stretch out happily, but then remember where I am and what I came to do. I sink back under the covers and try to go back to sleep, but it's no use. I can feel the cold sweat coming on and I decide to take a shower to calm myself. My feet have barely landed on the cashmere rug before an excited Kirsten bursts into my room.
"Oh I'm just so glad you're awake! It's time to take you down to the stylists!" She exclaims at me, rubbing her hands together in an irritating manor. Creepy, it's like she was watching me, waiting for me to wake up. I force the idea that maybe more people than just Kirsten are watching me out of my head and allow myself to be led to the dining room. It was really late when we arrived last night so I didn't get a good chance to look around. In the daylight, the apartment seems less intimidating. It bears many similarities to the train in that everything is the best of the best. I'm almost certain the dining room table has diamonds embedded in it. Haden emerges from a room opposite the apartment from mine, wearing pajamas just like me. He looks groggy and his usually neat brown hair is going in every direction. He gives me a bright smile when he sees me that momentarily stop my heart. I try to appear relaxed as Kirsten and our mentor Gregory shove us into the titanium elevator that will take us to the stylists. My heart is racing as we drop 1 floor below the first to what I presume is the stylist and train center. The heavy elevator doors slide open smoothly and I can't help but gasp.
We are standing in front of a room filled with 24 glass tables and curtains separating each station. I can see that most of the tributes are already here and on their crystal "beds". I look around and catch my first glimpse of the other kids. They remind me of well…myself. Everyone looks nervous as the stylists work away. There are some muffled shouts from the girl from 10 as her stylists try to wash her matted hair to her dismay. I cast one last glance Haden's way before I too am whisked away. They make me take off my warm pajamas and put on a papery gown. Feeling exposed, they set to work on me, washing my hair and body, painting my nails, plucking my eyebrows, waxing my legs and applying light makeup. There are a few soft cries from the bed next to me and I can't help but wonder who it is. I don't have time to figure it out before I'm taken off again to meet my head stylist.
They leave me in industrial looking room for what seems like an hour. I get so impatient; I get off the table and pace back and forth, just wanting some human interaction. I try the doorknob, but of course it's locked. I've just returned to my table when a sharp knock at the door disturbs the eerie silence and a short woman enters. She looks refreshingly realistic for a capitol citizen, her hair is a natural brown and her eyes are a familiar blue. She smiles at me and congratulates me, just like most people do. I sit still as she examines my bare skin and runs a few ideas by me.
"You're from district 11, agriculture." She says towards me. I nod and she smiles. "I think I have the perfect outfit planned for you." She gestures towards a black garment bag that I just notice has been hanging in the corner of the room the entire time. I try to return the smile, but first time in my life, I feel afraid.
Trixxie Finnegan
They've left me alone, again. I'm trapped in a stone room at the bottom of the tribute center and I'm not quite sure anyone even knows I'm here. I put a hand to my face, and for the first time in my life, when I pull it back, it's totally clean. I just spent the last…well I don't know how long it took actually, but it seemed like a few hours at the least, being perfected by a team of creepily dressed stylists. I lied there totally exposed as they washed me and ripped every hair from my body, not pleasant. But I have to say, I'm pleased with the result.
I don't think I've ever been so clean in my entire life. After they put me through that, they just dumped me off in this freezing cold room and a fresh paper dress. I fashion myself some sort of pants out of the dirty dress in an attempt to warm myself. I've been sitting in this room for like…ever. I just want my stupid stylist to come in and get this over with. I decided that they are actually cranking the air conditioning up farther because I'm literally freezing to death. By the time the door is flung open, I'm practically blue. My stylist doesn't seem to notice and instead tells me about 30 times how adorable I am. I glare at her coldly as she describes the amazing outfit she's put together for me. She tells me about how much time it took and how GREAT I'm going to look. I give in to curiosity and peering into the black garment bag she pulls out. Good grief.
Glare Zenton
When I woke up this morning, Ruby barely even looked at me, I get the feeling that she thinks she's all that. My day thus far has been fairly uneventful. In fact, the most interesting part was probably the assortment of buttons in the elevator. I was tempted to just run my hand down them to see them light up, don't worry, I resisted the urge. Both Stila and Teala seem to be please with me as we travel down to the stylists. We're the first ones there and everyone fawns over us. It doesn't take long for either ruby or I to be cleaned and fixed, we're both practically perfect anyways. A quick shave and washing later, I find myself in a stone room waiting for my stylist. I guess it didn't take the prep team very long to fix us, I mean we're practically perfect anyways. The room is a chilly but comfortable temperature, but I can't shake the feeling the capitol is trying to preserve us alive.
I don't have much time to contemplate that theory before my main stylist bursts into the room practically squealing. Her hair is dyed an electric turquoise and she is wearing a emerald green dress, very high fashion. She showers me with compliment after compliment as she examines my face. She pulls out a black bag and brandishes it in front of me excitedly. The contents of that bag might just be my saving grace.