Lindor McAvoy, 18
District One Female
"I… I have to put that on? That?"
"Hurry up and put it on so that we can get you ready with plenty of time to coordinate your entrance with your district partner… Frank?" Gigi murmurs, her quiet, threatening tone still clear as day. Frosty hasn't heard Gigi speak above half a whisper yet, but she's still unnerved by this tiny lady who seems to know exactly how far she can go, yet refuses to reveal it to anyone. "You will look stunning, my dear. Now, quickly. If you're too modest to do it here, you can go behind the screen."
Frosty follows her stylist's order, disappearing behind the screen and pulling out the gem-encrusted two-piece. She doesn't like the idea of stepping out to the Capitolite audience in, well, so little, but the initial fear is replaced by curiosity. Will there be another part of the costume that she hasn't been informed about? How will the crowd react?
...Is she able to pry off a few of the gems, just in case?
A few minutes later, she steps back out in the outfit. "Do I get anything else to wear, or is it my birthday suit all the way?" she asks Gigi. The stylist shakes her head, clicking her tongue in pity.
"My dear, I cannot send you out in just that. You must have something else, something special for this parade. Lavinia! I need a comb and the third piece of this outfit for my dear Lindor!"
Lindor pretends that they aren't pulling her dark, thick hair out of her skull as Gigi and Lavinia pull at the comb again, making sure that no new knots have materialized in what Lavinia delicately refers to as "this thick mane", before adding some sort of crown made of gems or whatever they thought they could get away with deeming as something from the luxury district.
Frosty just wants to get this over with and get out there.
"Oh, Lindor, you'll have to put this on over the outfit. It'll help with the flow and the dynamic of it all," Gigi whispers to Frosty. She wants to tell the two to stop calling her Lindor, but she's given up by this point. Gigi hasn't listened to a single request from Frosty, and she doesn't expect it to change with this one.
She looks at the mirror when she's finished putting on the extra cloth, and raises her eyebrows at the image. No, this isn't Frosty. This is someone else who's wearing this translucent fabric, billowing around her as a cruel parody of a dress. It's beauty with the modesty removed, it's a corruption of a dream.
She kind of likes it, to be honest.
"Now, let's hurry to the parade square," Lavinia says loudly, pushing Lindor in the direction of the door. "Your district partner - Francis? - is waiting outside for you, you know."
Fletcher Artesian is clad in a masculine version of Frosty's outfit, shivering in the breeze with his bare, muscular chest exposed. The gem-encrusted cloth makes two bands on his arms and then preserves what little modesty he has left with the remaining material. Instead of over his body, like Frosty's fabric, the translucent fabric are on his legs, woven tightly around his thighs and calves before a final layer is allowed to remain loose. He winces when he shifts in position, and Frosty notices that the material sparkles in the light. "Good to see that you have to suffer just as much as I did."
"Just you wait until we get onto the chariot," Frosty laughs. "You ready to see the Capitol?"
"Am I ever!" Fletcher points to one of the smaller tributes from the outer districts, a Five. "He looks like he's about to faint."
Frosty giggles, nodding along. "Too true, too true. Do you think that we should go and give him a good scare?"
"Eh, better to stay here for now. I don't want to scare him out of his wits before we begin. Gotta give them all a chance, right?"
Frosty punches Fletcher in the arm playfully, still laughing. "You big softie, you're going to get yourself killed thinking like that."
"We'll see." Fletcher's expression darkens a bit, and Frosty turns away from the man. He's no fun when he goes all serious - she can't tell what he's thinking at all.
"Hey, One!" The Two girl is standing over with her partner, dressed in a long, flowing grey robe with stiff edges that shimmers in the light, and Frosty waves back with a big grin. "Looking a little underdressed, don't you think?"
"Minimalism is all the rage, isn't it?" Frosty walks over and gives the girl a peck on both cheeks, letting her return the same gesture. "Frosty MacAvoy. Yourself? Thetis something… does it start with a K?"
Thetis giggles, dirty-blonde hair flying through the air when she shakes her head. "I'm Thetis Clifford - not that hard to remember, fortunately."
"Isn't that the same name as the Four boy?" Frosty asks, starting to laugh again. She doesn't know why she's in such a good mood - but she knows it's a good time to keep it up. She has to charm. "Cousins?"
"Who knows?" Thetis gives a shrug, then turns away. "Dimitri, we've got to get to our chariot this instant!"
Frosty watches the surly boy from Two follow in the trail of his partner, then turns back to her own strong, silent warrior. A smile begins to play on her lips, and she runs back to the chariot.
She has work to do.
Lanson Cartwright, 18
District Twelve Male
The sun is warm on his face, and he tries to smile at the chariots in front of him as the horses are prepped to trot out into the large walkway before reaching the president herself.
It's surprisingly hard to smile when he's outfitted in the most awkward coal miner's outfit he's ever seen. Especially when he's never even been allowed to work in the mines, considering that the recent child labour laws in District Twelve only allowed those over the age of eighteen to work inside the dark, dusty corridors underneath Twelve's feet. Then again, he should have expected this - almost every year Twelve has been in the parade has ended up with them being given yet another coal miner's outfit, complete with the headlamp that his stylist had told him was adorable.
Yes, he feels adorable enough to throttle the next person who comments on how original this outfit is.
"Oh-oh, I feel nauseous," moans Livia to his right. She's also dressed in the same miner's outfit, with a small leather belt around her waist to distinguish her figure from Lanson's. "Can you get motion sickness from riding just on a chariot?"
Lanson takes a small step away from Livia - he doesn't want to get splattered with her breakfast. "I don't think so, but who knows?" He waves an arm for emphasis, then winces - his skin still feels flayed from whatever they did to it in the Remake Centre.
"I… oh!" Livia leans over the side of the chariot and retches as the horses begin to move, and Lanson thanks whatever higher power that had made sure that they wouldn't be seen by the Capitolites until the others were well on their way.
Even if he did like Livia, he doesn't want the first official image of himself here being privy to her vomiting.
The higher power is smiling down on Lanson today, because Livia manages to queasily wipe her mouth and calm back down as the horses start to move. "I suppose - hic! - that I'm just having a case of the nerves. My mother has them as well."
He isn't going to enjoy this week at all, is he?
No, he needs to get a grip. Freaking out now over this girl is not the right choice, even if every bone in his body is begging him to chastise her. She's his own age!
No, Lanson needs to think of something else. He looks around the procession of chariots and horses that keep jerking forward to begin their own march to the end of the walkway, watching the costumes. At least it's keeping his mind off of Livia, who now is jostling Lanson to get a better place to stand on the chariot. "So I can wave to the crowd!" she says with a smile, and Lanson doesn't return it.
District One is clad in what first seems to be a very revealing costume, sparkling gems encrusted on light, silver fabric. But then he sees the shimmering, see-through fabric that surrounds their bodies, the sun causing the costumes to shine all the brighter. When the girl opens her palm and starts to throw out a few gems that her stylist must have given her, Lanson can see that she's already made this parade her own.
District Two is dressed, yet again, in a warrior theme - the girl is in a dark-grey dress-robe that billows in the wind and clings to her sides, but its black edges are crisp and firm, probably some allusion to their industry of rock and stone. She's holding the same sort of sword as the boy, who seems uncomfortable next to her but is dressed in the same material. He's bare-chested, and his tanned skin is surrounded by a more traditional robe of sorts. But he has his sword as well, and stands as stiffly as he possibly can as the crowd cheers for him.
Next is District Three, who is clad in some sort of lights show. The girl seems to be enjoying it, giggling while she spins around to let the flashing buttons and knobs fly through the air, but the boy's lower lip is trembling and he looks like he's about to cry.
District Four is a bit better, both dressed in what must be classic fishing dress for their district. The boy, covered with shimmering fabrics, pretends to hook a fish for the audience and they erupt in laughter, while the girl stands to the side. She looks miserable.
District Five and Six look similar… too similar, Lanson thinks as he looks at their black bodysuits that are covered with wire and bits of metal. The girl from Five is at least trying, waving to the crowd and giving smiles to anyone who'll throw her their roses, but the rest refuse to move.
District Seven are trees, yet again. The girl is screaming something to the audience and holding up a large pin, but he can't make out what she's saying. District Eight passes by as well, dressed like curtains that threaten to drag the two tributes away as a strong wind picks up. Lanson laughs, then ducks as one of the curtains comes flying off of the girl from Eight, whirling through the air, over the heads of Nine and Ten, and straight onto the boy from Eleven. Now the boy is falling as well, hitting his head on the side of the chariot and struggling to get up as the Eleven girl begins to scream.
Lanson doesn't think of waving to the crowd or trying to make himself amiable. He's too busy staring at the boy, who's still struggling to get up - there's blood, so much blood - as peacekeepers rush up to the chariot and carry him away.
It's now that he realizes that the game has begun. Yes, it's all begun, and he's twelve steps behind whoever's winning.
He doesn't like that thought.
First Capitol chapter! Hurray!
We're only getting closer to the games :o how do you think everyone will do? Any ideas on how the Capitol will end up? Any alliance predictions? Leave some thoughts!
Enjoy. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ