"Grown up Fairy Tales"

A/N: I was getting tired of taking 5 years to update b/c I keep quadruple checking every line to see if it fits the form, so I just decided to stop looking at forms from here on out and go based off of what I've written and what I remember about the characters. So if I make a major inaccuracy lmk but otherwise maybe this can help me post a bit faster. I feel confident in getting faster updates the rest of the way out, but I've also said that like 4 times in a row and every time I say it I don't update for 6 months straight so I'ma not jinx it. In the meantime, enjoy the next chapter in our truncated pre-games, featuring Vesta and Ariya as our tributes arrive in the Capitol!

PS: I didn't proofread this but this has already taken long enough.

~Don't blow your kiss in the air

Fold your fist in a prayer

And attentively listen for Blue Fairies whisper to turn you from folk tale to faithful for years

I never will grow up~

Vesta Brigarde

"Ugh, this is such a mess!"

"Truly, how can one live in such a depraved state?"

"Forgot food, tesserae should include a razor and lotion, heavens knows that's what they truly are in need of."

The District Twelve styling team continues to act as if I'm not in the room while they cut, yank, and scrub so hard I feel like my skin is going to be ripped off. Somehow none of it seems worth paying attention to, though. The room that I'm in has an entire wall that's just one giant mirror that sees out into the Capitol streets below. City streets aren't usually my type of view, but there's something enchanting about this one. There's no coal smog in the air, no dust or grime painting the cement, and no starving dogs scampering through the roads.

It's hard to call it soothing when my feet are being viciously scrubbed instead of squirming in cool dirt, my hair being knotted and tugged and pulled and yanked instead of flowing freely in a calming breeze. But there's still sunlight shining on my skin, no matter how red and sore it feels. The view might not have the breathtaking realness of the woods on a starry night, but it's a different sort of breathtaking.

I can't say that I wouldn't be enjoying it more if I were listening to the Brigarde Brigade arguing over something stupid instead of a constant stream of increasingly deranged insults from colorful Capitolites, though.

The past two days have been something, haven't they? A part of me (okay, maybe all of me) forgot that it was even possible that I could reaped. Going to the reaping was just a formality, until all of a sudden it wasn't. I didn't know it was possible for me to get as scared as I was when my name was called, and I realized what it meant. I'd felt fear before, picking pockets and chasing a deer, that kind of scared felt almost good, the way it made your blood run warm and had your muscles tingling.

That was a different type of fear. My muscles didn't tingle, they locked, and my blood was cold as ice, my heart slowing so that I wasn't sure it was pumping at all instead of going fast and hard.

I've tried not to think much about why I was so scared. Wendy and the boys were all feeling that same fear, and when I went up on stage I wanted to be strong for them. I told Wendy to look after them, and I smiled and made myself pretend I felt as carefree as ever. I wonder who I'm pretending to not be afraid for now. Definitely not my stylists.

When they finally finish up with me, I have a hard time believing it's a mirror I'm looking into, and not a photograph of someone else. They all gush and say I look gorgeous, and ask how I feel. I just shrug.

The stylist comes in next, and she looks almost bored to be here. She skips right past the pleasantries or comments or gossip and tosses an outfit at me lethargically.

"Congratulations, you're a miner."

The outfit is yellow and bright and hurts to look at. It looks exactly like the real ones that the miners back in Twelve wear when they go down into the shaft, and the thought of putting this on makes me feel sick.

I raise a hand and think to ask for a different outfit, but she's already walking out the room, and another moment later the stylists are back and shoving me into the costume without asking my opinion on the matter.

The person in the mirror looks even less like me now, and I can't help but wonder if Wendy and Brigarde Brigade will even recognize me. Maybe they'll think there was some mistake and some other girl was supposed to be reaped, and I'm on a train back home while this strange looking, neatly put together miner girl is the new tribute.

An idea for a story floats around that thought, a daring escape and a stunt double, or maybe a life-sized doll or long lost twin. A long hike through the woods, plenty of room for any sort of thing to happen there, all ending in a happy reunion when the girl returns back home to her friends, no, her family, and it all wraps up with a happily ever after and a kiss. Most of the boys would stick out their tongues and protest about that last part, but I think it sounds kinda nice.

By the time they get around to shoving me outside and over to the waiting room, everyone else is already up atop their chariots, the horses looking antsy and most of the tributes looking even antsier. District One are joking around, fake boxing on their chariot, their laughter the only sound in the room aside from the subdued applause from beyond the large double doors leading out to the plaza. The other careers are all stoic and serious, the volunteer girl from Three looks bored next to her district partner who looks like she's somewhere else entirely in her head.

The boy from Five all the Capitol shows have been talking about looks pissed off, and everybody else just look scared. That includes my district partner. Tamika is shaking on the chariot, clutching tightly to the sides, her knuckles white.

I want to help somehow, but it's all I can do to climb onto the chariot myself, and not a moment later the horses kick into action and we're moving towards the plaza. The applause and cheering is deafening, growing louder and louder as we're carried closer to the gate. When we finally burst out into the plaza, my breath catches somewhere deep in my chest, and I nearly fall off the chariot.

It's like witnessing a dozen shooting stars on a starry night without a cloud in the sky, except instead of that awe and wonder being accompanied by a calming feeling that everything will be alright, the dazzling lights and endless rows of oddly dressed Capitolites is brought with the feeling that all of these eyes are on me.

I don't hate attention, or being the center of a group. But that was with the Brigarde Brigade, not even a dozen of us and I've known them all since forever. This is something else.

I'm hardly able to so much as take anything in. I'm vaguely aware most of them aren't actually looking at me, they're too focused on District One for that.

But that doesn't stop all of this from being so. . . much. I knew that the Capitol was out there, that it was large, that the Hunger Games were like this. But the size of it all never really sunk in. How could it? My life has been so comfy and cozy, just a small patch of woods, the occasional adventure into the city or to Wendy's "palace" which until I was reaped was the largest, grandest place I'd ever known.

It makes me dizzy, and I don't like it. I want to just be myself, calm and at peace and unbothered and my thoughts and focus meandering, wandering from place to place with no rush or stress. I want to feel like there's harmony all around me, and like I'm helping build that warm, easy feeling in my own strange way.

I close my eyes, and try to will myself back to that place. To wet dirt under my nails, summer sweat beads dotting my face, and slimy lake water cooling my toes while I lay in the mud. To the crackling warmth of a fireplace, a damp log beneath me, a warm body beside me, resting her head on my shoulder while stars glimmer in the black of my eyes.

But there's nobody here to tell me that story.

Ariya Arden

The parade is so much more boring than it has any right to be. Beating drums, chanting crowds, and crazy costumes ought to be at least a bit exciting, but none of it makes my gut tingle the same way it did when I stood on that stage after volunteering. I thought it was the eyes all on me that made me squirm with excitement, but none of that came from the attention on me today. It wasn't District Three university boring, or far-too-long train ride with lame tribute partner and creepy mentor boring, but it wasn't a thrill either.

But the thrills shouldn't be too much more of a wait.

The president's speech is so riddled with the words "honor" and "glory" that I almost think I hit my head again and I'm back in that hospital District One with my parents. But it wraps up eventually, and once we're in the tribute center, the doors locked behind us, things can finally begin.

I hop down off the chariot, not bothering with the stirrups as I stick the landing and hop over to the District One chariot, shouldering past the girl as she climbs down from her horse. The gold armor she's wearing means I end up just giving my shoulder a good aching and barely even nudges her out the way, but the half-suppressed anger and surprise look she shoots at me dulls any minor pain in my arm.

The District One pair are both looking at me interestedly as I hop up in front of them, coming to a stop just beside the boy. My head goes up to his breast, and I have to shoot my head up to meet his eyes, but I don't back down, shooting a sly smile upwards.

"Pierre Bijou, May Redding." I speak with mock formality in an exaggerated District One accent, broadly bowing both of their ways. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Ariya," Pierre says, his expression and voice both blank as he stares through me. "Didn't expect to see you after you got shipped off to that shithole in Three."

"Not that easy to get rid of me," I say in a lilt.

The Two and Four pairs both walk up in sync, Two both with hesitancy and awkwardness and Four with a fake swagger and confidence that makes them look even more pathetic. You're welcome District One, you might need that third volunteer this year with what the other "Careers" are packing.

"What's the Three girl doing here?" The girl from Four, Ainsley, asks as soon as she steps up, eyeing me up with an unimpressed look. "Or the kid, for that matter." She raises an eyebrow at May.

"Oh shut up, Four," May says. "You losers don't get to call the shots."

"It's a fair point," Everly chips in, her voice quiet but intense. "Are we sure we want an outlier and fifteen-year-old in the group?"

"I don't know." Pierre shrugs. "We could just call a minimum height requirement for the pack and call it a day. You must be this tall to ride." He holds his hand up just above May's head, grinning down at her.

"Keep making fun of my height and I'll chop off your knees and see how tall you are then, jackass," May says.

"Alright, let's just calm down and talk, no need to get at each other's throats already," Ethan says in an amiable voice, flashing a smile and thumbs up at the group. Nobody else seems to want to return the gesture so I oblige him, but that just seems to make him even more exasperated.

"I think going at our throats already is exactly what we should do," May says. "Two's got some swords for their chariot outfit, maybe I can run it against your throat and see if Achilles' big weakness is right below that oversized head of his this time around."

Pierre coughs out a laugh. "Sounds like a plan. I'll try to not cut your earbuds when I chop your head clean off."

The air is thick and silent for a long moment, and I can't help but break the tension and laugh. May and Pierre keep up their intense glares at each other for another few seconds before they both crack too, and burst into laughter.

Arno and Ethan both chuckle nervously, or maybe just confusedly, while Everly and Ainsley are just staring.

Pierre brings a hand down on May's head, ruffling her hair. "This. Kid. She cracks me up every time!"

"So is District One all deranged psychopaths this year?" Ainsley asks unamusedly.

"All three of us," I say chirpily.

May rolls her eyes. "It's called having a sense of humor, four. You should try it sometimes. You'll be dead in a few weeks tops, might as well have a bit of fun before then."

"Cute," she says dully. "We still haven't said you're in the pack yet, don't get ahead of yourself."

"She's in the pack," Pierre says in a tone that offers no argument.

I shrug. "Seconded. If we aren't having fun while we're all killing each other, what's even the point?"

"I vote that we all try to be friends and maybe not kill each other," Arno jokes. "Unless that's too much to ask."

"Well considering the point of the Hunger Games, yeah, it is," I say lightly.

May shrugs. "What she said, yeah. I like the energy though. I'm counting that as another vote for Team May. And I just wanna say, I don't think it's any coincidence that the four people on my team are the top four on the victory odds board right now."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna miss out on that," Ethan says pleasantly.

"Well you're number six right now, but we'll work on it," May hums.

"I don't care," Everly says, still with that same intense quietness. "A bigger Career pack just means we kill all the outliers sooner."

Ainsley sighs. "Fine. What she said."

I clap my hands together. "Wow, look at us, what a good team. I feel like we're besties already. Does anyone wanna come back to my floor tonight and paint each other's nails and gossip about boys?"

"I could be convinced." Arno laughs.

"These Games are just gonna be you all throwing unfunny jokes and quips at each other for a month, isn't it?" Ainsley groans.

"Of course not," Pierre waves his hand. "I'm gonna kill you all way before that."

Everyone laughs at that, myself included, but when I look at Pierre something seems off about the way he's laughing. And there's the eyes, everybody has them, that look like they're all thinking the same thing I am.

Funny, I was thinking the same thing.

"I know the nail painting thing was a joke," May says. "But is it bad that I kinda want us all to slip into our onesies to eat popcorn and watch a cheesy action movie all night?"

"Yes, it is," Ainsley says. "I'm heading to my floor to go and get some sleep. I'll be at training early tomorrow morning, in case any of you decide that's something that might be important."

Everly wordlessly agrees with that statement, and the two are the first to head for the elevators. Ethan and Arno both flash smiles and a wave before following after their district partners, leaving just us three District One volunteers.

I shrug. "I thought it sounded fun."

"I don't get how someone can be so boring, blegh," May says.

Pierre shrugs. "Not everyone is in the kid-murdering business for the laughs. Their loss."

"So," I say, awkwardly segwaying, eager to get out of this awful factory worker get-up sometime soon. "Since you guys have, like, 7 mentors, you mind sparing one for a fellow District One trainee?"

"Of course," Pierre says. "We got a guest bedroom too if you're looking for a place to crash."

I laugh. "Ha. Yeah." I pause for a moment, then quickly add, "Sorry, was that a joke? Cause, like actually, yeah, that'd be cool."

May shrugs. "It's the Capitol, they probably have like 40 guest bedrooms on our floor. You can take a mentor as long as it's Galavant so I can stop hearing him nag at me."

"As someone who has to hear that nagging every meal, seconded," Pierre says.

"Take Galavant as my mentor instead of some creepy District Three guy who won his games cause he literally stabbed some girl in the back?" I tap my finger to my chin and scrunch up my nose. "Yeah sure, I think I'll manage."

"Great!" May says cheerily, adopting a tone of mock formality for a moment again as she extends a handshake. "Welcome to the District One team, Ariya Arden. We hope you enjoy your stay and find your amenities to be to your liking."

I smirk and accept the handshake. "Oh, I think I will."

A/N: And so our career pack has officially met! Such a fun group. I got to tease at some dynamics in the group, but what really makes this pack so fun is that everyone has a unique relationship with everybody else, and I can't wait to really explore those in depth over the coming chapters and into the Games. This is the part of the story I've been wanting to get to since I started, and I'm so excited to start writing these incredible characters of yours interacting with one another.

So yeah I'm speeding up the pre-games, and I feel kinda bad about skipping past some big moments like the district teams meeting in train rides, but also eh. I mostly just want to write this story and not take 10 years to do it and skipping ahead to a point that I have planned out and am excited about writing is the easiest way to do it. If you're at all worried about the shorter pre-games (everyone will still get 2 pre-games povs, which you can check on the blog that I've recently updated) just know that the arena isn't gonna be speedy like I normally do it. We're gonna be in the games for a while. But that's enough spoilers for now.

See y'all next time (soon? ha, probably not, but a man can hope) as we kick off our first day of training with Ethan, Arno, and a special mentor chapter with Tristan and co.