Chapter Two
As far as he knew from the unfrequently shown programs played on their tiny television at school, Capitolites usually contented themselves with dyes and plastic surgery. But when his prep team members had first walked in, he had stared a little, futilely wishing his eyes were deceiving him. Nothing could have prepared him to the sight of a man who had real gems implanted into his body, or another who had scarred patterns carved into his face and arms with what Will suspected had been some kind of sharp blade. It would seem is prep team took their body modifications even more seriously than most, and he had to admit, as ridiculous as they looked to him, there was a certain elegance to their alterations if he ignored the garish colors of their hair and the absurd clothes they were wearing. Unlike some of the other prep teams he had spotted earlier on the way in, they hadn't continued modifying their bodies until there was barely any of their original skin left. It was all obviously planned out well in advance, before actually going through it, and not a spur of the moment decision when they were drunk like a District 2 stylist who had a giant tattoo of something on his face. A very undistinguishable something.
His stylist, on the other hand, had decided to tint himself from head to toe in a lovely shade of purple dye that reminded Will of lavender. Thankfully, he wore nothing crazy, contenting himself instead with a simple, but no doubt still very expensive, dress shirt and pants combo, with his hair in a small tail and a pair of silver hoop earrings in each ear. It gave Will the slightest optimism that maybe their Chariot Costumes wouldn't be giant flowers again. Their district tributes had looked utterly idiotic the previous year, though fortunately, District 12 had saved them from being the laughing stock by being sent out covered in nothing but coal dust.
"My name is Bacchus." His stylist lazily introduces himself and takes out a cigarette from his pocket. "I'm replacing the regular District 11 stylist for this year only while she enjoys her honeymoon. It's nice to meet you, William."
"Will, please." He cautiously replies. "It's nice to meet you too."
The man starts walking around him, almost clinically examining his thoroughly scrubbed and shaved body. He eyes him back inquisitively, not feeling self-conscious at all. Whatever body modesty he ever might have had as a child, had been quickly forgotten at the orphanage where they never bathed alone to conserve water and where various siblings were prone to bursting into a room at any time. The oldest of their siblings have mastered changing their clothes in ten seconds flat, and for Will, the longest it takes is half a minute and that was on a bad day.
"It is unusual to see pale-skinned tributes from District 11." Bacchus drawls thoughtfully.
"There's not a lot of us in the district, and they are generally the richer ones, so they have much fewer chances to be reaped when you take into consideration the tesserae. I think my parents were pretty well off before they died." He explains needlessly as the man appeared not to be listening and had leaned in to examine his hair instead.
Will bends away, somewhat suspicious. He has been poked and jabbed by the prep team plenty already, and wanted nothing more done to him. Was it not enough they had covered him from top to bottom in glitter? For a moment there, he had been afraid that only would be their costumes. Even his exhibitionism had a limit.
"Isn't it lovely, Bacchus? A beautiful blond so pale, I would almost call it platinum. And his eyes, such a clear icy blue!" Coco, the only female prep member and the only visibly non-surgically altered of the three, though she had the longest nails he's ever seen, gushes from her corner.
"What about his face?" The scarred male, Felix, counters hotly. "He's as pretty as it gets. I would have mistaken him for a girl if I had seen him on the street."
Will shoots him a glare in response. He'd been teased for looking girly often enough, thank you. It was not an advantage anywhere other than the Games, and even then, only with the Capitolites. The other tributes were more likely to think him weak, and that would hurt his chances of finding a good alliance. If he hadn't already been planning on allying with Rosie, that is. He doubted anyone else will be interested when they find that out.
"Now, now. Don't scare the poor boy away." The stylist breaths out the smoke from his cigarette with a contemplative hum and finally gives Will some space, making his way through a door to a sitting room.
Pulling on a silk robe handed to him by one of the prep members, Will follows. As he sits down on one of the two couches, Bacchus presses a button on the side of a table. The top splits open, and another tabletop rises from below, holding what he assumes was their lunch and various ice creams for dessert. The others start eating straight away, but he tentatively nudges the raw fish with the tip of his fork, instead.
"It's quite safe to eat," Cyrus mistakenly reassures him, as it wasn't the freshness that was the problem. He might never have had fish before, but he was quite sure it wasn't supposed to be raw. "caught in District 4 just this morning."
Still cautious and not the least soothed, Will nevertheless starts eating too. The Matron had taught him never to waste food, and he was not going to start now, even when running the risk of food poisoning. The Capitol must have good doctors, and they wouldn't let a tribute get sick, right?
"So, William." Bacchus eventually says, peering at his over the rim of his wine glass. "What do you think of butterflies?"
"Butterflies?" He repeats questioningly, wrinkling his nose lightly. "I don't mind them, but what do they have to do with anything?"
"The costumes for the opening ceremonies must suggest your district's principal industry." The stylist explains. "For 11, that is agriculture. You are known for your fruits, berries, and vegetables, and what do they all have in common?"
"Flowers?" He hazards a guess after some though still uncertain in where their discussion was going. "Most of them have flowers at some point?"
"Exactly. And what do flowers have?"
"Nectar!" Coco exclaims with a light giggle as if that explained anything.
"And what does nectar do?" Bacchus prompts.
Attract pollinators like fruit-eating bats, and hummingbirds, and bees and… "We're going to be butterflies?" He asks, still feeling confused.
Bacchus sighs exasperatedly. "Yes, William. You're going to be butterflies."
And that's better than giant flowers, how exactly?
A few hours later, long after their short lunch had become a forgotten memory, he has to admit that maybe Bacchus knew what he was doing after all. He was finally dressed in the finished product, and honestly, it was not as bad as he had been expecting when he'd realized they were going to be dressed as butterflies of all things.
With a frilly white dress shirt, and darker pants so tight they left little to imagination tucked into shiny leather boots, it seemed a little antiquated, but the delicate wings that completed the costume negated that entirely. Glittering and blue, they hung down his back like a cape with a large slit in the middle. Supposedly, they were going to be unfolded by the air created by the moving chariot.
"Rosie is gonna love this." He mutters with a small smile, twisting and turning in front of a mirror so large it took up the entire wall.
"Well, of course." Coco happily chirps while packing up her makeup kit. She had been in charge of drawing a beautiful flower and vine design with glued on gems over his cheekbones and around the edges of his dramatically shadowed eyes to his forehead. It felt strange, almost heavy on his face. "What kind of little girl doesn't desire to be a gorgeous butterfly even once in her life?"
Bacchus, once again observing him from all angles, purses his mouth. "Let's add some lipstick. A glossy blue to keep with the color theme. And William, you have no idea how glad I am you keep your hair that long."
He smiles. "My sisters insisted. They claimed it was a shame to have it short, and I can always throw it up in a bun if it bothers me." It wasn't actually very long, barely brushing below his shoulders, so he hadn't minded keeping it that way. The little ones had enjoyed playing with it.
The stylist nods. "They were right. We were thinking of using a wig with a similar hair color to yours before, but your length was perfect for the half up, half down braid we had planned."
"They wanted it longer, but we compromised. The other boys would have teased me mercilessly if I gave in." He confesses.
"How strange. Here, no one would blink if a man had hair to the floor." Cyrus remarks, taking out a bejeweled flower hairpin from a case and sets to carefully inserting it in the middle where the two side braids met.
"There. You're done." Bacchus claims with satisfaction. "Just in time too. Felix, help the boy with the wings. The fabric is too fragile to have it drag on the floor like that."
"By the way," He asks as they make their way down to the stables located on the bottom level of the Remake Center. "how do you fit the costumes so well after seeing us only once during our Reaping?"
Bacchus turns towards him, pulling out another cigarette. "That is a trade secret, sorry. Now, we'll go get the chariot ready, so try not to get in trouble meanwhile. Hitting other tributes is not allowed, no matter how annoying they are or what they say."
With everyone he knew gone, he loiters around for a while, trying to ignore the stares of the other tributes before being accosted by an excited Rosie who had just arrived. "Look, look! We're fairies, Willy!"
"Yes, I noticed." He replies dryly, but the girl doesn't seem to notice his tone, too busy twirling to show off her new dress, and he obligingly compliments her on it.
It was a ball gown with a skirt that looked to be made of a multitude of large petals, and a corset of small white and pink flowers. Her wings were pink and smaller than his, but her makeup was similar despite the different color schemes, while her hair had been curled and adorned with a pretty flower crown of white metal and gems.
"Fairies, Willy." She repeats with a dreamy sight, and he finally laughs. It looked like Rosie was so delighted to finally fulfill her childhood wish, she forgot to be terrified.
"You did say you'd be one, one day." He teases.
She flushes red. "I was a kid!"
One of the District 2 tributes gives a loud disdainful snort passing by, and Rosie shrinks back into his side.
"Ignore them," Will tells her. "there is nothing wrong with fantasizing once in a while."
"I know." She whispers, and after a slight pause, tentatively asks. "What was he supposed to be?"
He looks back at the other boy who had been joined by his fellow district tribute at their chariot, and furrows his freshly plucked eyebrows, observing quizzically the white body paint and equally white tunics. "Stone? Ancient statues, maybe?" Whatever they were supposed to be, he wasn't completely certain, though the tunics, if nothing else, were tasteful.
"District 1 looks pretty." He follows her gaze and nods in agreement. They were both wearing full-body leotards of glitter and crystals, and sparkling, translucent capes, while their hair had been twisted into complicated hairdos with more gems plaited in. Perhaps a little too shiny for his tastes, but far from the worst he's seen from the district of jewelry.
"And District 3 looks funny." An unknown voice interjects behind them, and Will twitches, startled, before whirling around, protectively pulling his little sister behind him almost instinctively. The bare-chested boy grins, green eyes crinkling at the edges in amusement, and Rosie squeaks, abruptly turning red again. "I think they are supposed to be robots. District 4, Nyle Abano." He introduces himself.
"William Hadley, and Rosalie Gardenier from District 11." He replies with a polite but cold smile of his own.
"Charmed." Nyle drawls, and his necklace of coral, shells, and pearls clicks as he leans in to observe the designs on his face, brazenly invading his personal space, and making him clench his teeth in annoyance. Will tolerated only his siblings this close to him. "You make absolutely gorgeous fairies."
"Butterflies actually, but thank you, anyway. You are supposed to be mermaids?" He glanced down inquiringly at the skirt the other boy was wearing which shimmered in the dim lights like scales.
"That's right," Will notes that the other boy looked pleased about something. "Our stylist says the style of Cora's gown is literally called a mermaid dress. Very unoriginal, if you ask me, but they did do a good job this time. Last year's costumes were bad all around for absolutely everyone, not just you or 12."
"I remember. Yours wore seashell swimsuits." The girl's costume had been so skimpy she would have been more decent naked. But they also had Finnick Odair as their tribute that year too, so no one really complained at the Capitol. On the other hand, Nyle's moue of distaste at the reminder told him everything he needed to know about how their district had reacted. The poor boy had been only fourteen, and however attractive he already was at his age, he didn't deserve to wear that in front of the entire nation.
A loud bell rings and a woman's voice announces that there were only five minutes left before the parade begins. "Ah, well. I'll see you later then, William." The bronze-skinned boy promises and swaggers off.
He watches Nyle join his district partner, feeling a little caught off-guard. "What did he want?" He wonders aloud.
"I think he wanted to meet you," Rosie suggests to him slyly. "maybe he liked you?"
"Don't be stupid." He chides her, glancing down at her with a frown. "We are going to be opponents, and there is no reason for a Career to look for an alliance with me. I think I made it pretty clear I wasn't going to leave you behind."
"I still think he just wanted to talk to you." She shrugs.
He rolls his eyes and ushers his meddlesome little sister toward their chariot with its customary District 11 brown horses. Nothing flashy for them like for the richer Districts. "Just because I don't have any friends outside our siblings, lovely, it doesn't mean I need new ones. Especially not anyone that we will be facing in the Arena later on."
The opening music begins, blasted loudly from every direction. Massive doors slide open, revealing the colorful, crowded streets, and the District 1 chariot rides out, pulled by its traditional white horses. The crowd's roar grows in volumes for two of their favorite tributes, and when District 2 rides out next, it doesn't lessen but seems to get louder.
The drive will last twenty minutes and end in the City Circle, where the Capitol will welcome them, play the anthem and finally escort them into the Training Center, which will be their home base until the Games. Already, Will is dreading it. From now on, they would be under constant supervision, with no chance for privacy because even their bathrooms would have cameras. The Capitol wasn't taking any chances ever since one of the tributes electrocuted themselves in the tub early in the Hunger Games. They had it reported as an accident, but everyone in the Districts knew it was actually a suicide.
Cyrus makes some last-minute arrangements of their capes, and then, they are moving. A hand wraps around his own, and he gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Just smile and wave." He reminds her.
As their chariot starts gaining speed, their capes lift off the ground they were dragging on, and the spider silk thin fabric really does snap open like wings, revealing their intricated detailing to the crowd enthusiastic response.
Rosie lifts a hand and waves the entire ride, laughing brightly and face glowing in excitement. Even Will can't help the small smile that sneaks unto his face, although he doesn't wave as often, only raising his hand a few times, just enough to leave a good impression.
The twelve chariots slowly fill the loop of the City Circle. A quick glance up confirms that every window of surrounding buildings is crammed to the brim with the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol as he had been expecting.
As soon as the last chariot halts and the music ends with a flourish, President Snow appears on a balcony. He was a small, thin man with hair white from age and looked so ordinary despite his elegant style of dress, it was hard to believe he was the most hated man out in the poorer districts.
"Welcome." He says, starting his welcoming speech. It's always a new variation of the same things he says each year, but the people still quiet down to listen as if caught in a rapture. "Tributes, we welcome you with great pleasure to the Capitol." He continues. "We salute your courage, your sacrifice. And, needless to say, we wish you Happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."
The National Anthem begins to play, and the chariots parade one last time around the circle, and they disappear into the Training Center, the tributes final home and prison before the deaths of all but one.
As soon as they are inside, they are surrounded by their two prep teams who were jabbering over one another as they all tried to congratulate them at the same time. Bacchus and Rosie's stylist are also there, busy taking off their fragile capes before they were trampled and ripped.
Their chariot costumes, as all their future ones, will be going the Hunger Games museum and preserved for future generations as soon as those ones end. They say the building had a floor added each year and contained not just the costumes of the tributes, but the weapons and supplies they had used, and occasionally, even preserved bodies, if they died in a particularly interesting or unique manner. Will, personally, thought it distasteful and gruesome. It was bad enough the Arenas were considered historical landmarks and were always left open for the Capitolites to revisit as tourist destinations with the option of taking part in re-enactments after the conclusion of their games. The same had been done to the Capitol Arena, a rundown amphitheater that had been used before the invention of the present-day Arenas.
Rosie finally releases his hand, and jumps off the chariot to run towards their approaching mentors. "It was amazing! There were so many people, and it was so loud, and did we do good? I think we did well. I was so scared at first…"
"Easy, easy there, sweetheart." Chaff laughs, and places his single remaining hand on the tiny girl's head to stop her adrenaline-fueled bouncing. "You did good, kid. The hand-holding was a nice touch and sent a powerful statement."
Rosie lowers her eyes bashfully. "It wasn't anything like that. I just did it because I was scared, and Basil always lets me hold his hand when I was younger. And I know Willy does the same for other kids. Like the twins."
"Not Hazel," Will interjects with a fond roll of his eyes. "he thinks eight-year-olds are far too old for that, and he's a big boy now, and big boys don't cry, hug, or hold hands. Heather's the one who's never going grow out of cuddling everything and everyone."
"Oh, they sound adorable." Coco breaths. "And this Basil, is he another of your siblings? You must have a very large family!"
"We do. There is always someone new joining us."
Thus, softly chatting in that fashion, they follow after a Capitol attendant who was directing them towards the elevators. As the doors slid shut, Will frowns distractedly and turns his head back just in time to meet the eyes of an unsmiling Nyle Abano.
I don't own The Hunger Games.