Chariot Rides: Lights, Camera, Action

Eris wears a plain grey tux that is supposed to look like stone. Kaeleah sports the same attire but in dress form. Their stylists told them during the parade, they must reveal the sparkling gems beneath their plain clothes. He was instructed to rip his sports coat off in grand fashion so the squealing Capitolites could see the ruby encrusted shirt he is wearing underneath. This way they'll get sponsors. But he doesn't want sponsors. He doesn't like people who pretend to be something they are not, and sparkling rubies definitely isn't him. He prefers the grey, a solemn shade.

Kaeleah has never been good enough. Not for her father; not for her mother; not for the academy. So as she steps out into the blinding light of the square, she wonders if she would ever be good enough to please the Capitol. She tells herself this week is hers for the taking—she would do what she wanted; there is no one here to please. Yet when put in front of a crowd of thousands, it's hard not to wonder. She rips off the stone grey skirt to reveal an inner layer of sparkling gems. The crowd goes wild.

Alaric has forever been told he looks scary. With his pale skin, raven black hair, and piercing grey eyes, eerie is the first word that comes to most people's minds. He has never looked like the boy from one—blonde, tan, muscular, beautiful. He would make a far better knight then Alaric does. Alaric lifts his metal helmet to reveal his face to the crowd, but few cheer. They were all expecting a handsome knight in shining armor who would save them all from the fearsome dragon. Little did they know that behind the mask, the fearsome dragon was waiting.

Lena hates her costume. Her stylist clearly had no taste when he stuffed her in a metal suit that in the bright light, was about 100 degrees. She sweats like crazy. Her district partner removes his helmet, but she doesn't dare. She doesn't want the Capitol to realize that the emotionless and strong girl she pretends to be is as fake as their foot-long eyelashes. The mask hides her eyes that are reddened from crying; her wrinkles that have formed from stress and regret. She thinks of Quartz before noticing how heavy the armor feels on her shoulders. Tears well.

Gadget pretends not to hear the loud boos that ring through his ears. He knew this would happen, he knew they wouldn't be accepted for who they really were. Gizmo isn't so lucky. They're dressed in a black jumpsuit with blinking binary digits scrolling across. Their stylist did a good job, he didn't deserve the tidal wave of boos coming their way. Then again, neither did they. The only thing they'd done wrong was be born. They get a single rose, probably from someone who pities them. Gadget glances around at the marvelous buildings to distract himself. It doesn't work.

Sereina only wants to go home. Not to her aunt's house, no. She wants to go home to her house that existed before the fire; before her sister was turned to black ashes. A time where she was happy, where she didn't live in grief. She hates the lights of the Capitol, the boos that follow her and her district partners around wherever they go. She feels sorry for them, but also feels sorry for herself. Why her? Why did her sister have to die? She knows there is no home for her anymore, but still dreams of it anyways.

Albert frowns in his costume. For those idoit designers, it isn't bad. He is dressed as a fearsome sea monster, his eyes hidden behind bleeding red contacts. His skin is painted to obtain the appearance of shiny green scales, fake teeth plastered over his real ones to look like fangs. He hisses at the crowd to cease their annoying clapping, but the clapping only grows louder. The crowd only cheers when he hisses again. "I'll kill you all, fear me you landlubbers!" He yells. The crowd laughs and eats it up. They love Albert's acting. It isn't acting. Moronic Capitolites.

Nerida, like Albert, is dressed as a sea monster. Yet, the sea monster her stylist chose for her wasn't supposed to be frightening. Unlike her district partner, she doesn't have shiny green scales or bloodthirsty red eyes. She doesn't have sharp fangs. No, instead, she's dressed like a siren. Her golden hair flies down her back, curled into beachy waves. Two shells are all she wears for a top, a green skirt meant to look like a tail—her bottoms. Some men in the crowd sigh dreamily. They'd never guess she's more deadly than the sea serpent next to her.

Jaxs never likes to standout. He always prefers to blend into the crowd; never be noticed. He's an obedient servant who takes orders—never the one to lead. Yet, as he stands on the chariot in a white suit littered with blinking white fiber optic threads, he knows no one could take their eyes off him. Lux elbows him in the side, telling him to wave. Like the obedient order taker he is, he lifts up his hand. The crowd claps. He's grateful not to be calling the shots, yet wishes his stylist had picked something less flashy.

Lux grins widely. Her stylist is making it too easy for her to win. She knows she looks stunning in her white gown covered in blinking fiber optic threads. There is no one within a mile radius that isn't looking at her, with the exception of her wide eyed district partner. The crowd loves her, especially when she takes Jaxs' hand and holds it up high into the air. She basks in their cheers, yet doesn't really care. They are only a measly pawn in her game, a step on the way to never having to work another day in her life.

Raleigh always wished he could be a racer. His mother had told him stories long ago of fearless men who rode in cars that reached speeds of up to 200 miles per hour. On his bike he barely goes twelve. He loves the thrill of just going that fast—he can't imagine what 200 felt like. With thousands of eager eyes watching, he pretends to steer the chariot just like a racecar driver would. If he closes his eyes, he could almost imagine he's in a race—a million people cheering his name as he speeds towards the finish line.

Tesserae doesn't know how to deal with all this attention. Clad in a blue racer's suit with a giant six on the back, she awkwardly waves to the crowd. She's never before had anyone even spare her a second glance—in Six she's just another dirty girl on the street. Now she stands in front of a crowd of what seemed like millions, shifting uncomfortably in her spot. Raleigh gives her a reassuring glance, but it doesn't do any good. She's still a nervous wreck. Stepping forwards, she practically trips over her feet. Just smile. The people don't buy it.

Tristan flaps his brown speckled wings, enjoying himself. He didn't think he would be having a good time at the games, but surprising, he is. The stylist dressed him up as a woodpecker, dying his hair a bright shade of crimson. They stuck a tail on his back and wings on his arms. He's always been good at pretending, so it's not hard to act like a bird. He squawks and pretends to peck at Celeste. She and the crowd laugh. He's never realized how much he likes to make people laugh until now. Back home, his sister is crying.

Celeste is dressed as a swan. She's always second guessed her beauty, always able to find a person prettier than her in the room. But right now, in her feathery white dress and long wings, she thinks she's beautiful. The crowd seems to think so too, for they clap and cheer when she and Tristan come out. Tristan pretends to peck at her, making her giggle. Behind her white face paint and orange beak, she feels confident. Yet she knows when they take it off she'll feel vulnerable again. She twirls around and the crowd cheers her name. "Celeste, Celeste!"

Merino feels safe in his patchwork of an outfit. It's the normal for Eight, his stylists weren't feeling too creative apparently. All it is is a sack of different fabrics, borrowed from last year's parade. The crowd doesn't seem to really notice him or his district partner. They graze right over them, their eyes moving from the twirling swan to awkward vegetables in the next chariot. He doesn't mind though. He's never really liked to stand out, especially when he has to steal something. In his mind it is always better to blend in. He doesn't get caught that way.

Grace scowls at everyone in the square. She hates them for making the games; she hates them for all the unnecessary blood they spill each year. No one really seems to notice anyways, their eyes all moving to whatever shiny object is next in line. And she and her district partner are anything but shiny. Their outfit is a mishmash of browns and tans—not exactly eye catching. They're lost in the sea of bright lights as their chariot rolls around the bend and comes to a stop. She begins to feel dizzy and closes her eyes. Darkness replaces light.

Draven looks absolutely ridiculous in his broccoli suit. His frowning face is the only part of his body visible, everything else is hidden behind an ugly green suit. The citizens of the Capitol think him and Abrielle are hilarious, a roar of laughter coming from the stands. His nostrils flare in anger, and a small part of him wishes he could beat up his stylist just like he did with his uncle. After all, growing up with his uncle, he hadn't been taught a better way to deal with his problems. Another round of laughter, another clenched fist. Breathe. Breathe.

Abrielle tries to make the best of her situation. She smiles at the crowd, yet can't help but feel uncomfortable in her tomato outfit. Her face is painted a bright red hue, her small body stuffed inside a round red ball. Her thoughts drift to Brandon. He is probably watching her right now, thinking about ridiculous she looks. Finally she's got the attention she's craved for so long, but it wasn't what she dreamed. She's glad her face is already painted red, for if it was not the Capitolites would be able to see her blush from a mile away.

Chance twirls his lasso given to him by his stylist high in the air, making the crowd go wild. He feels sick to his stomach when he remembers that in less than a week, he'll be using it to kill others. But for now, he is having a good time, smiling at the crowd. For now, he is just a smiling cowboy with an empty mind that isn't full of nervousness and regret. A million cameras seem to capture the moment—their flashing lights blinding him. When he regains his vision, his district partner is no longer by his side.

Marena knows that in order to impress the Capitol, she'll have to do something risky. She's been taking risks all her life though—so it didn't surprise her when the idea to ride the horse came so easily to her. For what is a cowgirl without a horse? If she falls she's dead, but if she succeeds she'll live to see another day. Hidden by the blinding lights of the flashing cameras, she makes a leap of faith. And to her surprise, she lands square on the horse. The crowd cheers widely. Marena instantly knows the risk was worth it.

Basil never has felt more in his element then he does at this very moment. He has always loved the company of others, but has never known so many people could all be in one place at one time. He basks in their cheers and hollers, throwing his arms up in delight. His stylist has dressed him and Velicity up as scarecrows, yet he isn't scaring anyone. If anything, he is only making the fruit more attractive and appealing for the birds that circle above him. He laughs and laughs until he can no longer hear the crowd's loud cheers.

Velicity still hears voices in her head. They are as loud as ever; louder than the cheers of the crowd or the snapping of cameras as they capture the moment she longs to forget. Don't you hate them? They prod her on. They killed your parents, all of them did, they continue. Don't you want revenge? Don't you want to feel their warm blood running down your fingers? Velicity tries to push them aside, yet the voices don't retreat this time. She thought that maybe the scarecrow costume would drive them away, but the ravens only returned, hungrier than ever.

Cinder wishes his stylists were more creative. For the third year in a row, District Twelve is dressed as a lump of coal. But he always made an effort to look on the positive side of things, so he tells himself it could be a lot worse. He could be wearing no clothes at all—at least they let him wear a black t-shirt and black slacks. Living in Twelve has at least taught him to be grateful for what he has. He feels a sweaty hand grip his, and the shaking Arilli squeezes his palm tightly. He squeezes back.

Arilli loves the darkness; hates the light. So naturally she feels uncomfortable as her chariot speeds full speed out into the blinding light of the central square. A million lights are directed at right her, a million cameras flash in her eyes. She shuts them tight, trying to return to the darkness she craves so badly. For a while, everything is as it should be. Dark, warm, safe. The only other comfort she finds is in Cinder, who squeezes her hand just when she needs it. Thank you, she whispers, yet her voice is drowned out by a million others.

A/N: Hehe, I lied about the Capitolite POV. I was experimenting with drabbles for some characters, and I wrote one I really liked for the parade, so I decided to make them all drabbles. All are 100 words, and I did want to give everyone an extra POV. They also are in third person present. I hope you liked them, they were really fun to write.

Questions: Did you enjoy the style of the drabbles? (you can be honest) Favorite POV? Favorite Outfit? Least favorite outfit? Did I give you enough description?

paper :)