Alyssa Kimura, 34, Capitolite Stylist
It's almost that time of the year again, where the entire Capitol is abuzz with the kind of excitement you can't find any other part of the year. Everyone's parade outfits are planned, betting money is withdrawn and held in purses to be broken once the odds are announced, and for stylists like us, our magical tools are ready to transform even the most raggedy child into a star.
As my mind shifts to this year, I cannot help but remember the events that transpired a year earlier. Last year was unlike any other year I was on the job. When they presented me with a tall, slender child with bright purple eyes that resembled my own, a weird sense of nostalgia washed over me.
Am I looking in a mirror?
The girl didn't see the resemblance, but as I tied her long dark brown locks into an updo the night of the interviews I became more and more unsettled. In a world where everyone was so beautifully different from one another, she was a fifteen-year-old carbon copy.
On the final day, I prepared her arena uniform and gave her braided pigtails for the last time. Part of me felt like I was letting myself go into the arena. The thought of this little one dying seemed enough to kill my own soul.
The matchbox I sent her made all the difference. She escaped the smoking woods and burning cabins as I cried tears of joy, even as the four others trapped in the flames perished. It was all too easy for her to slash the quivering boy from Eight's throat open.
"Who are Alysanne Audren's parents?" I asked the Head Gamemaker afterwards at the celebration. She raised an eyebrow at me.
"What does it matter to you?" she replied in an irritated tone.
I went on to explain every little flicker of feeling I had around the girl, and the stern Gamemaker's expression softened.
"You do sort of look like her. I suppose I can look at her birth records and see who is listed as her parents." Aemilia told me she had been raised by a legal guardian, whose picture looked familiar to me, as well. I recall the trip I had taken to Six, to visit the renowned Sensei Nakamura's dojo. So little authentic remnants of my heritage remained that I had to see it for myself. I remember the matcha, the taste of the tempura, and sweet Axel's bright blue eyes…
When it all came together, I wept. They had erased her from my mind, from my soul. It had been to 'protect' her, as being a niece of Lancia Audren would have ensured her selection for the Games one day. But in a cruel twist, she was found anyway.
"Why was this girl not given to me to raise? She's my child!" I would have normally not dared to be so emotional around one of the most powerful women in Panem but I couldn't help it.
"She's part District 6. And Axel Audren was a well-known addict and criminal. He was not father material in any way. You would have been shunned in the Capitol, blacklisted from every agency. Was that really worth it, Alyssa?"
"Yes! Because she got raised in Six, she was Reaped!" I cried. Aemilia just chuckled.
"She got Reaped, yes, but luck was on the little bird's side and she's returned to you. I would say you got the good end of the deal." As the Head Gamemaker strutted away, I couldn't help but feel like I had been robbed.
This year's girl is different. She isn't tall or fit, like my Aly. She looks like she's been through three lifetimes of suffering.
I trim off four inches of Aston's dark brown hair before curling it, which makes her smile for half a moment before her expression turns stoic again. Her skin looks ashy and pale, with far too many stress-lines for a fourteen-year-old.
She tells me she doesn't care what she looks like.
"Nonsense, sweetheart! We need you to look and feel your best," I tell her, patting her shoulder. She flinches at the touch.
I'm almost in a rush, because the sooner Aston is in her costume, the sooner I can see Alysanne. I hand her a large bag with her costume inside and rush off, already impatient.
Vinna Hegarty, 18, D1 Female
I've always fantasized about this particular moment of the Games. I'm already beautiful, but now the Capitol could work their magic on me. I endure the endless waxing, shaving, and plucking with a smile. Even as my entire body is pink, tingling, and sore, my composure is uncompromised.
They shear off at least six inches of my lovely blonde hair, as seen by the piles of my shiny locks on the ground. At first, I want to complain that they've cut far too much, but the shorter style actually compliments my face shape well.
Mascara is spread on my lashes, which makes my bright green eyes look even bigger. I'm practically glowing by the time they finish, and my prep team seems to think the same.
"You were already lovely, but now you're fabulous!" a stout woman with curly red hair squeals. "Now we can present you to Jordan."
I'm taken to a changing room with only a small window, a chair and a nearly empty clothes rack save for one plastic bag hanging. I sit restlessly, eyeing what was most definitely my costume for the parade.
Before long, a tall man enters the room, his jewelry already blinding me. He has blood red dreadlocks and a casual expression.
"Hey, Vinna," he says in a somewhat hypnotic voice. "I'm Jordan, your stylist. We're going to make sure you catch everyone's eye for the next week, cause I can tell you're special."
I blush slightly, proud that even someone as shallow as a Capitolite is able to recognize that I'm different.
"I am special," I reply, flipping my hair back. "In fact, you're lucky because you're looking at the face of the Victor of these Games." Jordan just snickers, folding his arms.
"Aren't I lucky." My stylist hands me the bag hanging on the rack and opens it, revealing a red and black unitard studded with glittering gemstones and hearts, and a sheer black skirt attached. I take notice of the headdress.
"Are these cat ears?" I ask Jordan.
"It's a crown, for the Queen of Hearts," he replies, taking the pair and holding them to the light. "Since you're an older tribute, we can go for this kind of angle."
I find myself grinning wildly.
"I love it. I was afraid you'd try to market me as some kind of stupid, innocent little angel like they always do for One girls." The very thought of the Capitol trying to make me something I'm not scares me more than any tribute I will have to face.
Once I'm in my costume I'm escorted to the loading area, chariots and horses littered around the area. Several tributes are talking to each other, some already on their chariots, as if they're trying to anchor themselves to it. The girl from Five makes somewhat extended eye contact with me, and I have to stop myself from charging at her.
Just wait, Vinna… she'll get what's coming to her. They all do.
I find the District 1 chariot, where Armahni is in a nearly-identical outfit, presumably a king of hearts. I'm somewhat annoyed at his stylist's lack of creativity. Matching costumes are common but this angle fits me and me only.
He's talking to Merrilee, One's most recent Victor at only seventeen years old. Her win at the age of fourteen is well-etched into my mind.
Merrilee waves to me and Armahni gives me a curt nod.
"Well, look who's fashionably late," she jokes, stepping aside so I could mount the chariot. "I thought I was going to have to go out there myself!"
I just roll my eyes at her. I'm already annoyed at Merrilee's attempts to be my friend. She may be a year younger than me but she is a Victor, and should be talking to me as such.
"My wonderful stylists had to put on the finishing touches," I say in a sickly sweet voice, masking my tone with false sincerity.
Merrilee just giggles, somewhat oblivious. She wishes us luck as she rushes off to go meet with some friends. That girl truly is still a teenager. I suppose innocence is one of the only things a Victor could cling to.
Too bad my innocence died years ago.
Ryker Haynes, 17, D10 Male
For years, I had assumed that if I were ever unlucky enough to be a tribute, my dignity would further be stripped when they forced something along the lines of a silly cow outfit onto me. However, this wasn't the case at all.
I felt nearly invincible in my shining silver armor, minus a helmet so my face can at least be seen. I'm even equipped with a sword and shield for added effect. I felt like Lancelot prancing down to the chariots, and didn't even mind the stares I recieved.
I bet they're jealous because I look like I could win a fight already.
Becky thought the costume was too flashy for a boy from Ten. My mentor seems to think everything I do will attract too much attention.
"Isn't that a good thing, in terms of sponsors?" I questioned. She shook her head at me.
"No. You're a normal, hardworking boy. They'll like you for that, and that alone. You don't need the Careers' attention on you as well." Becky mentioned the idea of laying low to Salalai on the train and she just numbly nodded in response. I can't remember her uttering a single word this entire trip so far.
She doesn't have much to say when I arrive at the chariot, either. Mute as ever, she stares at the shoes of her costume in a timid way. Her costume is pretty, though I can't quite tell if it's supposed to be a fairy or a plant.
"I'm a tree nymph," she answers as if I had asked the question out loud. Suddenly her eyes look angry. "You could have at least asked what it was instead of staring at me like I'm a creep!"
Off-put by her sudden loss of temper, I dismount the chariot in an attempt to find some people to talk to, as I did not want to spend another eight minutes alone with Salalai. I find several people talking in groups, which disappoints me. Finding new friends is always difficult when everyone's already in cliques of their own.
I spot the brother-sister pair from Twelve talking by themselves, and decide they might be the easiest to approach.
"Hey there," I say in a friendly tone. "I'm Ryker."
"From District 10," Lilac muses, holding out her hand. "I'm Lilac and this is my brother Damon. Actually, you probably already know us."
I chuckle. "Hard not to know a pair like you too." I soften my expression. "I have two siblings myself, you know, I just couldn't imagine being in a situation like this."
"It's not that bad, actually," Damon says, glancing at his sister. "I'd much rather go into the Games with my sister over some stranger. It's a comfort to have someone I know I can trust." Lilac playfully punches Damon's shoulder.
"We do practically everything together. Why not the Games, too!" Lilac and her brother laugh in unison, to mask the fact that everything about this is terrible. I giggle with them to lighten the mood.
"I envy you. My district partner has given me the… the heebie jeebies." I shudder at the thought of her shouting at me again for some minor infraction.
"Yeah, she seems a little strange in my opinion," Damon mutters, rubbing the back of his head. "If you want, you can hang out with us during training." Damon looks to Lila for approval and she gives it with a nod.
"Wow, that'd be great!" I exclaim, trying to hide how truly excited I am to have made new friends. "I already can't wait."
"Attention tributes, please board your chariots at this time, as the parade will be starting in ninety seconds at 18:00 sharp."
"Well, I guess I'll see y'all tomorrow," I tell Lilac and Damon as they turn to their own chariot. "Nice talking to you!"
Lilac and Damon wish me luck, with the parade and possibly with Salalai.
Part of me thinks I'm being unfair to her. She might be experiencing internal things that I am completely unaware of, and her strange mood swings either a consequence or a coping method.
I try to be fair to everyone, and not judge even if I think they don't fall under the category most people would call "normal". Salalai is still a human being and she still deserves respect.
When I step onto the chariot again, Salalai is looking stiff and unfeeling. I turn to her, a tender smile on my face.
"Hey," I whisper to her, getting her attention. "Want to hold my hand so you won't fall out?"
Salalai looks confused, then intrigued, then angry. Just as she looks like she's ready to scold me again, her eyes flutter shut and she takes a deep breath.
"Yes, thank you. I'm so worried I might lose my balance." She offers her tiny hand to me and I take it tightly.
Once the doors burst open and the cheers erupt into deafening volumes, the real nerves start to kick in. We're behind Altaïr and Nerezza, who are both waving. I wave with my free hand and Salalai looks enchanted.
My vision is going slightly blurry, and the flashing lights are nearly blinding me. As the horses trot into the night, my grip on Salalai is starting to balance me as well as her, anchoring us to a sense of reality in this new strange place.
Backstory/makeover/pre-chariot chapter. Next will be a recap of the parade so you can see the fabulous ensemble of all the tributes :D after that, training! yay! i'm so excited to get to that part cause that's when it'll get kind of strange.
thank you for reading as always and be sure to review!
-Aemma
p.s. a couple of busy weeks have prevented me from posting the sponsor system but i will do it soon, i promise!