Funny story: I've never read Homestuck, so that's probably why Hlenn diverged from her inspiration.
Hlenn Rambutan- District Eleven female
It was appropriate that I looked like a skeleton when I woke up. I hadn't gotten into much action during the Games, so I didn't have any wounds to treat. The major evidence of the Arena was my emaciated frame. I'd barely eaten for a week, and I hadn't eaten much even before that. My limbs were mottly and spiderwebbed with veins, too, because even with the water tree, I was still dehydrated. I had an IV in one arm and I was glad they did that when I was sleeping, because my veins had to be tiny.
They ruined me. It wasn't as bad as all that, but I felt violated when I looked at myself. They'd grafted more hair onto my head so my thin locks were thick and luxurious. They'd fixed my shortsightedness, which would have been a plus if they'd asked me first. They just took a knife to my eyes like they weren't even mine. They made my eyes bigger while they were at it, and they puffed my lips so they were more heart-shaped. What really hurt was they scrubbed away my freckles. My skin was even and smooth, and my wonderfully scattered, random freckles were gone. They made me look like a beautiful woman, and they made me not look like Hlenn.
But it's sort of a positive, isn't it? I can focus on this, and not the death games I just got out of.
I didn't know how to feel. I felt like I should be sad or scared, but I felt numb. I'd read enough about mourning and death to know this was normal. There really wasn't any abnormal reaction to trauma, but this was one of the most common. This wasn't something human minds were made for, so when it happened, we kind of hit a wall. I felt like I should be thinking about my allies, but they were gone. They were dead. I'd never get them back. Adira and Theo were in the past now. I'd always remember them, but we didn't have a future. Only I did.
I was glad Frankie was the first to visit me. His face looked the same as mine.
"Do you know what it's like now?" he asked.
"I thought I would, but I think I never will," I said. "Just you, and Calvary, and Gidget, Kazuo, Rhoda, and Vera."
Frankie never wasted time with sentimentality or sugarcoating. If he knew about something it, he would discuss it. If he didn't, he left it to those he did. Even having been through the Games three times, he still didn't know about recovering from something that didn't hurt him, and he didn't offer platitudes or say it would be all right.
"Why did Rose die?" I asked. She just had a seizure and died, right out of nowhere.
"It was a brain-eating amoeba. She got it from the river," Frankie said.
That was it? All that training, and a drop of water undid it all. It didn't seem fair.
When Creme dramatically threw the door open and squealed, Frankie took his leave.
"HleeeeEEEeEEEEnnnnnN!" Creme shrieked. "You're back!" He gasped. "And you're beautiful!"
"I wasn't before?" I asked with a fragile smile.
"You were okay, but now you're beautiful!" he said.
"Oh. Thanks," I mumbled. It was bad enough he said something like that, but I also had to deal with the guilt that I was blinking back tears over my face when people had just died.
My dress was bright yellow. I didn't think anything so bright and sunny had anything to do with the Capitol, but Creme had an explanation.
"I did some research," he said proudly. "There's a flower that sleeps for a hundred years, and then it blooms. You were in the Arena for practically a hundred years, and now you can bloom!" I tried to be happy for him, and I did like the dress. The skirt was made of strands of soft, fuzzy fringe, like a thousand thin petals, and the top was tapered and green.
Being with Caesar again was the most normal part of the day. I remembered the stage from so many times before, and I could almost feel the echoes of everyone else who had sat in that same chair.
"I hope you're not offended to hear we're a little surprised," Caesar said. "But I love surprises, and this is an especially good one."
"I'm surprised too," I said. "To tell the truth, I pretty much lucked into this."
"We're glad you did. You certainly earned it, though," Caesar said. At twenty-nine days, my Games was one of the longest in history.
It was surreal to watch the replay. But then, everything since I woke up had felt surreal. I'd always been so fascinated with death, but I felt dirty watching it again. It was something sacred and meaningful, not a spectacle for amusement. Each one of the Tributes, even the ones I hated, were valuable. I watched them die scared and alone, and I could only think of what a waste it was. I saw Rose splash into the river. She hadn't known she'd died then. For the rest of the video, I saw her converging toward that moment, and when it came, I wished it hadn't.
I hated President Snow. We all did. I hated watching him sweep down the aisle and I shuddered at the thought of him touching me. I didn't look at him when he held up the crown, and I hoped he just took it as a show of fear or respect.
I took a look at the crown and I smiled, but it was bitter. It was a lovely thing, with a delicate wire frame. The wires surrounded and supported butterflies, butterflies coated in glass so thin I could still see through their wings. They were artfully arranged to balance each other out. They arced up to look like they were flying away, but it was a lie. They were dead, as dead as the beetles whose iridescent blue-green wings lined the bottom of the crown. They were beautiful, free-flying creatures. It was fitting, then, that the Capitol killed them to look at their bodies.
