Chapter 29: The Huntress and the Hero

After lunch, Kitty rounded up the two tributes, whisking them off to the Remake Center in a private car, though this one wasn't stretched like those from last night's dinner. The districts that hadn't arrived yesterday — mostly the mid- and outer-districts, save for Five, Seven or Nine based on general geography, Venatrix imagined — were due to head straight from the train into the Remake Center, as opposed to getting early access to the Training Center.

Venatrix hadn't seen her father make a reappearance before they'd left; she buried her mild annoyance under the view of the city from the car.

Everywhere she looked, a new color popped out, entirely different from the view of the city at night; Venatrix thought her eyes might sting from the vibrancy. Back home, even the violent sunsets and virulent green springs spoke of a more natural hue.

Here, though, multicolored tinted windows and chrome-plated skyscrapers bounced mid-afternoon sunlight between them like a game of ball, warming Venatrix's arm through the clear glass of the passenger window. Even in broad daylight, neon signs flickered in front of storefronts, crawling up the edges of expensive-looking apartment complexes. Neatly-clipped trees bearing summer-pink flowers lined the prim and plastic sidewalks, littered with passers-by just as strange as they appeared on television: a trio of women sporting different shades of blue skin, a couple dressed head-to-toe in glittering suits, a man sporting a genuinely impressive set of silver antlers.

Venatrix elbowed Percy, mouth stretching into a smile. "Look, it's you."

"Huh?"

"Silver horns. Get it?"

His grin widened to match hers. "That better be my parade costume."

The driver had apparently decided to take them the long way around, to Kitty's irritation; over a hundred year's worth of chariot rides had carved out the most direct route, framed on either side by towering stadium seating. In other words, completely inaccessible to motor vehicles.

Dodging crowds of paparazzi and eager early spectators, the car pulled into a private entrance by the Remake Center. Kitty guided them towards their prepping stations, where a swarm of Capitolites immediately flocked to Venatrix, chirping and squealing with excitement. She lost sight of Percy as they bumbled her into a private dressing room, introducing themselves as Spinella, Penelope, and Eleanor before immediately stripping her of her clothing. Venatrix tried to stifle a grimace.

"If you need anything, though, just call out 'Nell' and one of us will answer," the magenta-skinned Spinella said with a tinkling giggle. "Oh, thank the heavens, she's already waxed."

"You Twos really are too good to us," Eleanor supplied, laying Venatrix on a metallic table and unceremoniously soaking her body in a shock of cold water; the tribute forcibly suppressed a gasp as the chill permeated her from all sides. "I started out in Six, and let me tell you, those children are absolute beasts, especially the scrappy ones." She shook her head in distaste.

The last one, Penelope, changed places with her to squeeze out Venatrix's hair; the petite girl couldn't have been more than four years older than her, relatively normal-looking by Capitol standards, the only pop of unnatural color adorning her appearance being close-cropped midnight blue hair, though Venatrix did a double take once she noticed the girl's bright-orange irises had been modified to resemble a cat's. "Here you go, darling; sorry about the cold." Venatrix shivered again as the water turned warm against her skin; Penelope instructed her to sit up, massaging something flowery-smelling into her hair.

If Venatrix had to guess, Eleanor was the oldest, though it was difficult to tell through the woman's makeup-caked face and deliberately-dyed bright silver hair. She based her assumption on the way the other two seemed to converse more freely between each other as they worked, passing around snippets of meaningless gossip that Eleanor didn't seem to care about.

Mercifully, the trio soon dried her off, rubbing scented lotion into her hands and calves and draping her in a fluffy robe.

Eleanor began painting a clear coat of polish on her fingers and toes, the liquid oddly cool through her nail. The gentle teeth of a comb prodded at her scalp as someone — Penelope, she guessed, as Spinella was currently brushing a glittery powder onto her shoulders — detangled her hair in an impressively short amount of time, though Venatrix recoiled when the girl unveiled a wicked-looking pair of scissors. Reluctantly, Venatrix assented when Penelope assured her it would just be a trim, placing the hand she'd retracted back in the waiting Eleanor's.

Gently, Spinella placed a finger under her chin, holding her face steady to dab makeup on her cheeks. Distracted by the soft sensation of the brush across the planes of her face, it took Venatrix a minute to realize that Eleanor was talking to her in between shaking out a bottle of silver polish.

"—so exciting to work with you," the silver-haired woman was saying. "Isn't it, girls?"

"Oh, for sure," Spinella agreed. "Nell's right; getting to work with you and your sister? Such a treat!"

Venatrix's eyes shot open at that.

"Oh, careful; I was just about to start on your eyeshadow—"

"You worked with Bell?"

"Well, of course," Eleanor drawled. "None of us are new."

Penelope chuckled, running a thin device through her hair that caressed her locks with a stream of heat. "Little thing could barely sit still enough for me to cut her hair."

A pang shot through Venatrix's gut. She recalled watching last year's parade procession at home with Iago, and then vaguely again on the train ride here. They'd gone for the marble statue route with her and Tauren; despite everything, she and Iago couldn't help but get a laugh out of how unconvincing a statue she'd made, bouncing and waving around in her chariot.

"Kept messing up her makeup too," Spinella said fondly, clutching at her chest. "Bless her sweet little heart."

"A bit unprofessional, if you ask me," Eleanor huffed, seemingly oblivious to the glare Venatrix sent her way. "You told her multiple times to stop licking off her lipstick, and what does she do? At least we don't have to deal with that again. You, on the other hand—"

"Excuse me?"

The older woman visibly stiffened at the barbs in Venatrix's tone.

"Oh, she doesn't mean that," Penelope chimed in hurriedly. "It was our fault for giving Bellara the flavored gloss…"

"No, say that again." Sharply, Venatrix waved Spinella's makeup brush away from her face, and all three of them seemed to take an unintentional step back from her. Eleanor shifted uncomfortably under the tribute's stare, as if someone had suddenly cut out her tongue.

Stepping between them, Spinella placed a light hand on Eleanor's shoulder. "Why don't you step out for a bit; I'll handle her nails."

Despite her partner's protests, the rose-tinted woman subtly guided Eleanor out of the dressing room, leaving Venatrix alone with Penelope. The girl shuffled behind her, her fingers once again picking through Venatrix's now-dry hair, another heat-emitting device in hand. "Sorry about her; she's, y'know…" Penelope lowered her voice. "Heterosexual."

Venatrix bit back a scoff. "She's a bitch."

The blue-haired girl gave a noncommittal noise, continuing to fiddle with Venatrix's hair in relative silence. By the way the Capitolite parted and twisted each strand, Venatrix assumed she must be plaiting it; she tried to let herself relax into the sensation, closing her eyes. She opened one cautiously once Spinella made her lonely return before closing it again in an attempt to remain nonchalant, keeping them shut while she offered another apology. "I, for one, would've loved to continue working with your sister. You must miss her dearly."

Venatrix's response was no more than a grunt. Letting her persona slip any further was a mistake she couldn't afford to make, not here.

Don't you dare forget where you are.

Still as marble, she sat in place as the two prep team members polished up the rest of her appearance, painting silver across her eyelids and curling the ends of the puffed-out plait that trailed down her back. When Spinella held a mirror in front of her, Venatrix only deigned to give her reflection a passing glance, as if the sharp-planed green-eyed goddess they'd made of her was nothing out of the ordinary. Carefully, Penelope fixed a crown of silvered grape leaves and laurels around her head; Venatrix gave a clipped word of thanks, ignoring the look that passed between the two Capitolites.

They didn't have to suffer for long; the muffled click of heeled shoes preceded the stylist's entrance even before the door swung open.

At first glance, the woman stood taller than her, though without the eight-inch stilettos, Venatrix couldn't tell. Her sheer, white hair fell down to her waist, dappled curiously with black spots. The makeup around her eyes complimented the look, thick kohl framing sharp, watery blue irises and matching black gloss coating her lips.

Quick behind her, a large black-and-white dog padded into the room, no doubt the inspiration for her look. Venatrix stiffened at the sight of it. "Hello, Venatrix. Stefania Stark, at your service," the stylist said brightly, extending a hand to shake the tribute's. She noticed Venatrix's eyes wandering to the animal. "And this lovely girl here is Anita, my therapy dog."

The stylist scratched the dog happily behind the ears, and Venatrix couldn't help but wonder what the hell this woman needed therapy for.

"Don't worry, she's quite friendly."

At least the spotted canine looked different enough from last year's mutations that Venatrix was willing to extend a cautious hand to pet its head; she tried not to flinch when it licked her fingers happily, drawing a high-pitched chuckle from the stylist.

Spinella and Penelope moved eagerly to greet the dog, the latter sinking to the animal's height to pepper its face with blue lipstick kisses. Stefania frowned, eyes sweeping over the pair. "Where's Nell?"

Penelope looked up. "We're right her—"

"Not you, the straight one."

Venatrix bit back an unkind snicker as Spinella explained the older woman's infractions. Stefania rolled her eyes. "Can we just get one year where she doesn't pull some bullshit?" She turned to Venatrix. "Sorry about that, darling. Anyways, we have your outfit ready here…"

Perking up, Venatrix's gaze attentively followed the stylist as she snapped her fingers; Spinella disappeared out into the hall, returning seconds later with a black dress bag in tow, smaller and flatter than Venatrix expected. With a flourish, Stefania tore open the zipper, casting the bag aside; Venatrix only caught glimpses of sheer white and glimmering silver before they yanked the robe from her body, instructing her where to step into the fabric. She heard a curious lack of zippers as they adorned the outfit to her body, a lightweight flowy tunic that fell to her knees.

The costume's accessories, however, clearly dominated the look; every couple of minutes, one of the Capitolites slid another piece of silver jewelry up her bicep, around her neck, tied a flowing silver sash around her waist. Around her forearms, however, they fastened russet leather bracers, embellished with ornate silver paint. The shoes they strapped to her feet crawled up her calf, not unlike her Reaping day shoes, the soles thankfully flat.

Fingers tugged again at her hair as Penelope fastened another accessory behind her head; Venatrix's chin dipped at the sudden weight when the girl removed her hands.

This time, when they brought her in front of a full-length mirror, Venatrix took in her reflection. The team had affixed the light, silvery fabric that she'd seen earlier to her shoulders; it flowed behind her, catching even the slightest of breezes. The heavy addition to her hairstyle took the shape of an elaborate crescent-moon headpiece, the two prongs of the circle almost touching above her head, though it left room for the crown of silvered vegetation to catch attention. The silver accents highlighted the ensemble, though the tunic sank a little too low in the front for her taste.

Smoothing the silver-embroidered hem of the skirt, Venatrix granted her reflection a simple smile. Either way, nobody would dare pass over her in this costume, not that they would otherwise.

"Artemis," Stefania gushed, pride ringing in her voice. An ornate silver bow sat in her hands along with a quiver of arrows; she passed the bow to Venatrix and the quiver to one of the Nells to fix to her back.

With an appraising eye, Venatrix took the weapon. "And Percy is…?"

"One guess."

Venatrix huffed, pulling an arrow from the quiver to inspect it. The shaft and fletching carried the same intricacies as the bow, engraved with elaborate swirls. It carried no point, though she couldn't help but remember the incident with Lancelot at the summer Mocks; she'd counted only four in the quiver, but twenty-two was certainly better odds than twenty-six...

"These are a special kind of arrow," Stefania said, as if reading her thoughts. "You won't be able to take out anyone early, I'm afraid."

"And here I thought you were helping me," Venatrix said dryly, and the stylist chuckled.

She notched the arrow anyways, figuring the other tributes wouldn't be aware of that particular fact; it fit well enough for Venatrix to assume it was meant to be fired. Interesting.

Stefania guided her out of the dressing room where Percy already waited for her astride what Venatrix assumed was their chariot, the cart, embellished with matching silver and gold designs to match her and Percy's costumes, pulled by a pair of chocolate-colored horses.

The tribute in question greeted her with a huge smile plastered across his made-up face, his getup fairly similar to Venatrix with highlights of gold decorating his tunic to emphasize the Apollo theme. A matching crown of laurels peaked out beneath his blonde waves, his head framed by a golden sun-like headdress similar to her crescent moon. "Y'know, I'm not really sure how this fits Two's industry," he said as she drew closer to his side, "but I'm the last one to be complaining." He eagerly brandished his golden bow, tapping it against hers. "I hope they give us weapons this nice in the arena."

"As long as they work," Venatrix quipped.

Catching sight of Venatrix's stylist and, more importantly, her dog, Percy ooh'd in excitement; Venatrix took the opportunity to scan the other tributes as he abandoned her to fawn over Anita.

The only other Careers to have arrived were Patience and Idris, the two dressed as anglerfish. The spikes on their shoulders mimicked gruesome teeth, glowing paint dotting their bodies, though the red-haired girl was too busy yelling at her counterpart for playing with his overhanging headlight to notice Venatrix's investigative gaze. As she watched, the two Threes made an appearance, covered head-to-toe in silver paint and looking rather awkward in skintight chrome leotards adorned with gadgets to make them look like robots. Poor Shannon quickly looked away upon meeting her eye as they settled in behind the Two chariot.

Down the line, the Eights stood out in garish arrays of colorful fabric, neither the slight girl nor the wild-eyed boy looking too pleased about it. Behind them, some genius had dressed the Nines as corn stalks; Venatrix wondered if they would get a raise or get fired.

Another pair of tributes stepped into view closer to the rear: elaborate flower-like headdresses obscured their faces until the boy turned her way as if he'd felt her staring; Venatrx recognized Starling from Eleven. His eyes flicked to the weapon in her hands, the resting smile of confidence glued to her features, but before she could react, a low whistle from behind pricked at her ears.

"Damn, you two look hot."

Percy had reappeared at her side, and with him Mariposa, the blonde girl practically floating up to their chariot in an azure, jewel-studded costume, complete with a set of iridescent, glittering wings. Her hair had been twisted into a complicated updo, complete with a small tiara resting atop her tresses. Venatrix couldn't help the slight blush that creeped onto her cheeks at Mariposa's words, especially when the other girl looked like that.

Her friend, thankfully, covered for her, resting a lazy elbow on Venatrix's shoulder. "Why thank you; I am supposed to be a sun god," he said with an easy grin. "The three of us are really killing this thing so far."

"I'd say." Mariposa's eyes carefully trailed along the bows in their hands.

"Stylists said they're useless, unfortunately," Venatrix supplied.

Mariposa arched an eyebrow, glancing towards her district partner at the helm of their chariot. "Pity."

Viper had been clothed in a similarly-bejeweled suit complete with a gold circlet across his brow, though Venatrix spotted snakeskin accents on the cuffs and lapels; he looked down his nose at them, and Venatrix had to resist rolling her eyes. The snakeskin and the wings had been last-minute additions once the stylists had learned the names of their charges, according to Mariposa; rather impressive given the successful execution, in Venatrix's mind.

Commotion from the sidelines drew her attention, and Venatrix spotted her parents and Morwenna appearing next to the pair of District Two stylists as they made their way over to the chariots. Accepting the warm expressions of praise for their costumes from the Victors, Venatrix and Percy listened from aboard the chariot while the stylists began to explain their props. "Okay, the One girl's gone…" Stefania peered around the chariot. "You two are both familiar with how to use a bow, right?"

Holding back an eye-roll, Venatrix nodded in assent. Percy, on the other hand, gave the weapon a confused look. "Uh, I've actually never used one of these before," he deadpanned.

Venatrix bit back a chuckle as Morwenna facepalmed. "Kid—"

"Yeah, he's abysmal with a bow," she chimed in, grinning at Percy's subtle glance.

His stylist, a lavender-skinned man dressed in neon colors, began frantically trying to instruct him on the weapon's use. "So, what you're gonna want to do is hold it like this… And then you pull-oh, first you need an arrow..."

"I still don't get it," Percy said, fumbling his arrow in the bowstring.

Venatrix couldn't help the snort that escaped her mouth as the stylist let out a whine of panic. The Victors passed around exasperated glances, though she noticed Morwenna's lips briefly twitch into a grin.

Finally, he managed to string it. "Like this?" Without warning, Percy expertly drew back the bowstring, sending an arrow hurtling straight towards the District Seven chariot. It didn't get far before exploding into a cloud of glittering sparkles in their faces; the girl screamed, flinching so hard she nearly fell out of the cart. The Seven boy's glare did nothing to quell Venatrix's snicker, though Percy gave the kid a friendly wave, calling out, "Sorry!"

With no small amount of amusement, Stefania continued detailing her explanation of their props, instructing the tributes when and where to fire their arrows, stressing that they needed to act in sync for the highest impact. "As you can see, they should have quite the spectacular effect."

"That's a very clever idea, Stefania," Dagmara commended, and the stylist bowed her head in unexpectedly humble thanks, scratching absently at her dog's ears.

"The fourth arrow was thankfully meant to be a tester, so Venatrix, you can try out yours now too."

Obediently, Venatrix strung her own bow, aiming her arrow overhead and releasing; light cheering reached her ears from the District One chariot as the arrow burst into glitter, and Venatrix dipped a sweeping bow at Mariposa's applause. The girl looked like she wanted to say something, leaning forward on the barrister of her chariot, but the first few notes of the national anthem interrupted her, reverberating through nearby speakers. The chariot began to move, nearly throwing Mariposa off-balance, to Viper's seeming satisfaction, judging by his upturned smirk. Mariposa ignored him, turning around to greet the crowd.

In pursuit, the District Two chariot kicked into gear; both Venatrix and Percy held steady at the sudden motion, the ribbons of silver and gold fabric trailing behind in the breeze of their movement. As instructed by their stylists, the two tributes immediately strung their bows, releasing in tandem just as they breached the track, the screaming roar of the crowd rising in pitch as their arrows exploded in a rain of sparks.

Something swelled in her chest at the noise, deafening and adoring. Shoulders back and chins high, she and Percy faced the Capitol head-on, their smiles tinged with pride.

Neither of them cheered or waved; no, they reserved the fanatics for the spectators. Venatrix and Percy stood tall like the gods their stylists had made them into, and when they crossed the halfway point, they strung their bows again, arrows pointed skywards. Simultaneously, they drew their arms back, fired. Percy's arrow intercepted a rose thrown by one of the screaming Capitolites on its way up; showers of sparks and delicate red petals rained down on them from above, the effect captured spectacularly by a nearby camera and blasted at full force on the overhanging screens.

Venatrix kept an eye on them as the parade progressed; despite the continuous procession of tributes emerging from the Remake Center, the cameras kept flickering back to her and Percy.

Satisfaction wormed its way into her gut. It was only natural, she figured. Unlike the rest of the tributes, Venatrix and her history were already entwined in the Capitol's popular media; of course they craved more.

Aside from theirs, the camera crews paid the most attention to the preceding chariot, Mariposa's glittering ensemble hardly daring to outshine the girl's smile. Venatrix caught her eye again as the chariots reached the main plaza, circling around the square before coming to a halt in front of the balustrade where the president would address the masses.

Venatrix and Percy held off on their final arrow as the last chariot ground to a stop. Above them, the woman herself emerged before the crowd, the stiff planes of her cape granting her a sharp silhouette.

At President Valorius's raised hand, the audience quieted. "My dear tributes; from the jewels of District One, to the shores of Four and the forests of Seven—" her stare raked over each chariot in turn— "to the passages of Thirteen; the citizens of the Capitol extend to you our warmest of welcomes." The fervor in her voice almost made her words seem genuine, her single eye piercing. "We honor your sacrifice and bravery, and may the odds be ever in your favor. Let the One Hundred and Fifty-First Hunger Games begin!"

The audience exploded in thunderous applause at the conclusion of her short speech. Venatrix and Percy, poised to shoot, sent their last arrows barreling towards the heavens, no doubt catching the president's eye; Venatrix could've sworn she felt the woman's gaze pass over her, raising the hairs at the back of her neck. Maintaining her composure, Venatrix bowed her head ever-so-slightly as the horses cantered towards the exit, hoping the president deemed her behavior satisfactory. Once removed from the limelight of the crowd, Venatrix felt herself relax by a hair.

Almost as if by design, the four Career chariots parked themselves in the vicinity of each other. Shouldering her bow, Venatrix hopped out of the cart with Percy on her heels, the other Careers gathering around them. "Petition to change stylists?" Grethel quipped, picking at the silver paint beginning to fleck off her bare shoulder.

Venatrix and Percy exchanged a look. "Not a chance," she huffed as the Capitolites in question began to flock towards their charges, mentors in tow.

"Oooh, yours has a dog?" Idris gasped, spotting Stefania's dalmatian. "Here I thought mine was great when she gave me cookies." Oberon had to swerve out of the way as the kid made a dive for the dog, eliciting a few chuckles from the group.

Waves of chatter washed over Venatrix's ears as the Career stylists exchanged high-pitched exclamations of congratulations. Unexpectedly, she found herself feeling drained, lacking the energy to listen to Viper's prattling at how horrid the District Nine costumes were, though she huffed a laugh when his mentor snagged the crown from his brow, twirling it over his head as he rested a lazy elbow on the boy's shoulder. Percy seemed to sense her exhaustion, making an effort to speak for both of them while keeping her included in the conversation.

Even then, Venatrix had almost completely checked out by the time the District Two mentors decided to move their party back upstairs for dinner, interrupting the budding discussion about tomorrow's plans for the first day of training. The grumbling of her stomach distrubed the relative quiet of the brief elevator ride, to the amusement of its occupants.

Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long; as soon as she'd showered and changed out of her parade costume, the ever-silent white-robed servants began laying out an array of delicacies along the marble dining table. Venatrix eagerly filled herself a plate, though she held off at her mother's warning glance to wait for the last of their table guests to appear. When Stefania finally got her dog settled in at the foot of her chair with its own bowl of food, Venatrix took the initiative to dig in. Someone had switched on the television to display the recap of the parade while they ate; her mouth was too full of delicately-cooked lamb and soft white rice to comment on District One's appearance.

A round of hearty cheers swept through the table as their own chariot strolled out onto the screen, Venatrix and Percy's performance perfectly complimenting the stylists' designs. Venatrix hastily clapped her hands together as well while the host praised the first two pairs of costumes.

Three's fake-robot outfits had apparently been a miss in the Capitol's eyes as well, hindered even more by the tributes' obvious awkwardness; in their wake, Patience and Idris played up their anglerfish costumes fairly well. Five's glittering lightning-streaked jumpsuits portrayed a similar idea, though the plate of lamb chops in front of Venatrix held her attention more successfully than the old-timey railroad getups of District Six and the pine trees of Seven. She snorted at the disgruntled expression of the Eight boy in his mass of eye-straining fabric, though his partner was clearly attempting to make the best of her situation while distancing herself from him at the same time.

"Y'know, they really could've done the corn thing a lot better," Percy commented from her side, throwing a passing glance towards the Nine tributes now onscreen. "It's not a new idea, by any means."

Stefania hummed in agreement from across the table. "I started out in Nine myself. It's better to make them forgettable than horribly awful."

Even Ten's classic cowboy outfits made a better impression, though the two flower-headed Elevens easily outshone them.

Surprisingly, Twelve had managed to pull decent costumes this year; the stylists had dressed the kids as bright yellow canaries, the effect somehow coming across as elegant rather than garish. "I supposed we should congratulate Gloria and Damien on their promotions," Percy's stylist conceded. Venatrix polished off the rest of her dinner as Thirteen came into view. The two kids had been clothed in rather scant getups, though glowing green cracks ran through their skin as if the tributes were bleeding some sort of radioactive material, the effect and the tributes' charismatic demeanors praised highly by the host.

With the conclusion of the ceremony, the Avoxes reappeared, carrying a large cake adorned with sun-and-moon imagery among other various desserts. They served the tributes first, placing corresponding moon and sun slices on Venatrix and Percy's plates; they thanked the tongueless servants, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the stylists.

Kitty, however, only chuckled. "It's so cute when they do that," she said, exchanging a look with her fellows. At Venatrix and Percy's confused expressions, she nodded towards the Avoxes. "You kids and your district charm; you're not really supposed to speak to them unless you're giving an order."

"Oh, shove it up your ass, Kitty," Morwenna snipped, earning herself wide-eyed glares from the Capitolites and sniggers of amusement from the tributes.

"Language!" Percy's stylist admonished.

The red-haired Victor only rolled her eyes. "Sorry, it's part of my 'district charm.'"

"No, I think that's just you," Oberon jabbed.

Venatrix snickered as Morwenna flipped him a rude gesture, spearing a piece of spongy cake with her fork; the sweetness of the icing nearly made her eyes water, melting onto her tongue. "Holy shit, Perce, this is gorgeous," she mumbled through the mouthful, earning a chastising but lighthearted side-eye from her mother.

After dinner, her father pulled her aside for a quick mentoring session; he looked about as tired as she felt, though neither Victor nor tribute complained as they went over the consequences the parade was likely to have on sponsorships, for Careers and outliers alike. "It doesn't usually make much of a difference for us, unless the costumes are particularly bad." Venatrix nodded; clearly, that wasn't the case this year. "For districts like Twelve though…"

"I guess we'll see if they're worth anything in training tomorrow."

Oberon huffed in agreement. "That's a whole other ball game," he said, rubbing vacantly at his beard. "I know we've gone over this multiple times, but make sure you keep in mind the real purpose of these next few days."

A mere three days of training would hardly compare to her years of preparation. The opportunity to scout the abilities and shortcomings of her competition, allies as well as enemies, however…

Now, that held value.

Venatrix nodded again, though she couldn't stifle her yawn; he sent her to bed shortly afterwards, highlighting the importance of a good night's rest. Steadily, she drifted to sleep on waves of half-conscious strategies and short-sighted fantasies of victory.

true vengeance 151 . weebly . com

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my little gags (: if not, that's okay, my target audience (me) has already been met. Thoughts on the costumes? Wonder if they have anything to do with the arena... (or maybe I'm just pulling ur leg. Or maybe Not...) Still working on the Capitolite blog page, but for those of you wondering, Yes, there will be a picture of Stefania's dog ;-;

Also heads up, it'll probably be a bit before I post the first part of training day 1.. I'm not quite expecting to have it finished this week, and next week is going to be Hell for me irl so. Rip. Ig this one was extra-long to make up for that lol. (Also little shoutout to FireflyLlama for finishing Crown of Thorns ! :D Congrats friend; that was such an excellent ride ;-; ) See u guys.. when I see u, I guess !

- Nell