Chariot Rides:
You're not going to get peace with millions of armed men and women.
The chariot of peace cannot advance over a road littered with cannons.
Cassian Castellan, District Two
''Wow, what a milieu.'' Raising my head and looking around the preparation room, I nod and say, ''Can't believe all this is for me.''
''Well, it is and it isn't for you.'' Suddenly, a man with a velvet undercut that's dyed honey brown at the tips and edges walks into the room. ''See, this is your assigned room, but you won't be here again after today. By the way, I'm your Head Stylist – Lyander Corveol. It's nice to meet you, Cassian.''
''It's nice to meet you, too,'' I respond.
With a clap, he summons three more stylists into the room – one more male with green hair and a disgustingly shaven beard, and two females who look way too giddy to be here. ''It's very exciting to be working with you, Mr. Castellan,'' one of the females states. ''I've been awaiting this day ever since I was appointed to take care of you along with these three.''
''Thanks, I appreciate that.'' Just to be nice and compliment them back, I add, ''You guys look great, so I'm positive that whatever outfit you have planned for me will work plenty.''
''Glad you think so,'' Lyander speaks up. ''But, if you wouldn't mind, in order to assure that all of the measurements that we've obtained are correct, I'm going to need you to strip down to your bare skin.''
''Hold up, what?'' I laugh, readying a joke. ''Sorry, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but I don't think I'm comfortable with two dudes staring at my, you know. But these two ladies right here, I don't have much of a problem with.''
''Oh, aren't you something,'' the quiet woman notes. ''Truly, I'm flattered.''
''Mr. Castellan, I can honestly tell you that you aren't the first boy that I've seen naked,'' he addresses. ''I've been dressing District Two volunteers for seven years now. All the past tributes you've seen die or come back alive, I saw them nude – and if it makes you feel any better, I make contact with people who are undressed at least four times a week.''
''If you say so,'' I mumble, shrugging. With that, I casually unbutton my collared shirt, untie my shoes, remove my socks, and slide off my ripped jeans and boxers until everything lies at my feet – then I kick them away. ''So now what?''
''Stand still as we begin to work on you. The examination process won't take too long.''
''How about what you do with my body? Will that be fugacious?'' I ask.
''It depends on how much we have to work with, really. Depending on your body hair and structures, it'll take a certain amount of time to get you completely prepared.''
''Body structures like... like my nuts?'' I chuckle, asking a ridiculous question.
''I suppose so.'' Looking me in the eye, Lyander wonders, ''Quite the immature Career, aren't we?''
Shrugging, I wait and watch as the other male and one of the females descend to view my lower body, while Lyander and his 'main' apprentice inspect my upper body. Immediately, both of the two that stand on their knees take out razors and start with my legs. Pieces of black stubble rain onto the white porcelain-tiled floor. Each stroke makes the speckles more dense, and some even tumble to the linoleum. Interested, I smile as my smooth skin emerges beautifully transformed from its before stage.
When they mount a bit higher, I let out, ''Like the view?''
Attempting to ignore my comment, the male replies with, ''That's a very inappropriate question, Mr. Castellan. I'm not inclined to answer that.''
''You upset that I have the biggest balls in the room? Or are you mad that I didn't take time to learn your name before giving you consent to touch my body?''
''Please don't be so insensitive,'' the female cries. ''We're just doing our jobs here.''
''I was just assuming that since you're already down there, you might as well tell me your opinions. Like, it's decent, right? As you can see, I'm not very cold.'' With a wink, I wait for either of these two to reply, but only Lyander's voice penetrates my ears.
''You are the most impulsive tribute that I have ever worked with. Never before have I met a Career as disrespectful as you! It's a shame that you do not know how to act around other people.''
Shrugging, I take in a deep sigh and declare, ''I was only messing around with you guys. Learn how to take a joke every once in a while – not everything has to be taken seriously.'' At least I got your attention.
After finally getting rid of all the natural hair on my body, Lyander aggressively bunches all of the thick hair on my head within one of his large hands, raising a stainless steel pair of scissors to the base of my forehead. In all the movies that I've seen, the protagonists just clip the scissors once and their hair would fall off as if they were nothing more than features – but in real life, I see that it takes many moments of hacking for just a small section to fall to the ground.
''Come with us, please.'' Following orders, I drag myself behind Lyander and his prep crew into a shower room, my toes flinching as they touch the chilled ceramic floor. One of the stylists turns the dial, new and metallic, releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening my hair and trickling down my back.
As they're placing conditioner on my skin and shampooing my hair, I hear, ''Didn't you have a brother that volunteered for the Games a while back?''
Their question takes me by surprise, causing my eyes to open as the water drips down to my feet. ''Yeah, why?''
''I remember him clearly – Mr. Castellan was much more mature than you. It's a shame that he placed second to Chantell from Seven, but what can you do about it? I miss him dearly, but hopefully you'll take his place and come out on top. I hear that your family has a large amount of prodigious children. Is that true?''
Swallowing hard, I allow myself to remain collected, realizing that she isn't speaking down on his name – she's simply respecting him as he lies beyond the grave.
''Yeah... a couple of them are becoming Peacekeepers, and my other brother received a scholarship and is residing in the Capitol right now. Me, though... I'm the one that goes into the Games to complete an unfinished task. Everybody knows what they want, really.''
Except for me. It wasn't even my idea to volunteer, either. So...
...why exactly am I here?
Helena Vasilev, District Twelve
Across the garage, I inspect the other tributes, taking their chariot outfits into my head and smiling along the way. The male District Four mentor – Brylan Wildur – stops talking for a second and glances at my moving frame, eyeing my outfit and nodding his head in approval. His tributes turn around, the boy staring at me with disdain and letting out a groan; the girl, on the other hand, looks at me plainly, unaffected by my appearance.
''Hey!'' I say, waving as Gebria and I pass by the other stylists, mentors and tributes. Four's outfits are kind of... revealing, to say the least. Granted, their outfits are like this every year, but literally, all they have thrown over their heads are fishnets. They're also wearing boots that are encrusted with starfish and different types of exotic aquatic life, and there are tubes that allow water to flow from the opened lace holes in them. I kinda feel bad for the girl, though, because I doubt that she wants her boobs being flashed on television like that, in front of millions. And knowing the Capitol, they don't censor anything Hunger Games related. The boy, though, is confident for a reason that I can't seem to figure out.
I've gotta give props to their stylists – the helmets that they wear are golden, tracing from the top of their heads and splitting right before their chins. There's an emerald sitting in the middle, directly above their foreheads, and the teal wings that stick out of them flap forward, pushing water out and wetting their hair and bodies even more than they currently are, making them look as if they're oiled up and glistening with steam.
''So... you have one of those?'' Gebria speaks up. Gazing, I turn my head up and raise an eyebrow. Ever since she saw me naked, I could tell that she's been questioning my gender.
''One of what?'' I ask, messing around with her.
She gives me a put-upon sigh, stating, ''You know what I'm talking about. After years of working with District Twelve tributes in general, I've never seen a female with a male's part before. Is this normal in your District and I've been missing out on it, or..?''
''No, it's not common at all. I don't think it's common in any District, actually,'' I admit, placing my hands on my hips. ''I'm just a special case.''
''I'm sorry, I don't mean to ask you personal questions, but, why exactly are you like this? Was it fate that cursed you?''
''No, I don't believe in fate. You might not presume that I'm telling the truth, but I actually decided to be this way, coming out when I was eleven. My father was disheartened, though.''
''Why?''
''Because our District already has low fertility rates, and, well, I think you can figure out the rest of the story. Besides, it's not really a curse, to tell you the truth.''
''Is it hard to find love because of your, you know?'' she asks. ''Do the guys repel you and turn the other way?''
''Actually, no. I did have a significant other, but...''
''But?''
''He died,'' I cough. ''Some disease spread throughout the District, I'm sure you've heard about it. It killed thousands, and unfortunately, Peras was one of the people who succumbed to the illness. Slowly, our population is dwindling at a steady rate, as you can see.''
''I'm sorry to hear that, but at least you were able to live your life normally. Are you going to remain this way forever, or is there another step?''
''Well, I'm not done transforming yet, so there's that.''
''And when will you be done?''
''After I win, of course,'' I speak up, confident in my demeanor. ''And before you even ask, yes, I know that I have the ability to win. I might not be trained like some other tributes, but I believe in myself. If I wanna win, I'm gonna go out there and do everything in my power to make sure that I come out alive, reigning as the current Victor. There's such thing as freedom of choice, and I'll use mine to make sure that my destiny ends in me escaping victorious.''
After finally arriving to our chariot in the back, I grin when I see Calieh and Joydin speaking to Aspen, seemingly giving him some important advice. Their eyes gleam up when they hear footsteps approaching them, and Aspen turns around, winking at me. ''Well, hello, beautiful.''
''Calm yourself,'' I end the flirting before it can even begin. Looking him up and down, I finally get to see what my outfit looks like when worn by someone else – and really, both of us are rocking it. Our bodies are covered entirely of coal, shaped in the form of an armored shield that covers our chests and upper sleeves. The coal eventually stops at our thighs, but for Aspen, they're in the form of shorts, while mine are designed to look like underwear. Our legs are covered with pieces of granite that scatter all around, and our feet are colored darkly to represent the blackened dirt that attracts easily. My toes are painted a sparkling gray along with my fingernails, with speckles of red constantly flashing to indicate an explosion.
Moving my hand over to my collar bone, I draw a hold on one of the translucent stones that protrude from my clothing. They barely twinkle in this poor lighting, but apparently something spectacular will happen when we step out. In other parts of my body, platinum and gold jewelry are set out. They're accessorized with rubies, sapphires and emeralds, considerably adding more to my weight.
''Now listen,'' Joydin orders, the old lady still having a bit of command in her voice. ''When you get out there, you are to be the most enjoyable and exciting tributes possible. Have fun, and don't let anything distract you from the early celebrations. It's hard, I know, to smile at people who anticipate your death, but don't do anything that would be frowned upon.''
''Make yourselves stand out, as well,'' Calieh suggests. ''Dance, laugh, blow kisses. Play around with e-each o-oth—'' His words are interrupted with a deadly cough that shakes me to the core, making me feel butterflies surfacing from my stomach. His cough reminds me of Peras'... ''—er. Feed off of one a-another and m-make yourselves pleasurable. B-Believe me, i-if you do everything that you can to stand out, these Capitolites will exact their rights of provision on you two.''
Nodding my head accordingly, I agree with their words. ''Thank you for the guidance. We appreciate it.''
Before they can respond, a voice comes on the intercom above: ''Tributes, please make your way toward your chariots and prepare for dismissal. Make sure to stand still and do not step off because you will be transported into the streets in just a few seconds. That is all, thank you.''
Grabbing Aspen's hand, I haul myself onto our chariot and aid him in ascending, too. ''Get ready, kid. We're gonna steal the show.''
Gracie Sullivan, District Ten
The streets are glorious in inception. The sidewalks are smooth, gray stones joined with precision that the walls of concrete are used to hold the Capitolites away from us. They're much more akin to the construction of a modernist skyscraper – something that we don't have back in Ten.
Up ahead, I see that the buildings that tower in the sky are nothing short of gargantuan, the bastions of the city's pride, stamping in the center of the Capitol as a financially significant place for all of the people here to explore. Some of the wealthier people in the crowds are already cheering and throwing items out, clapping and whistling for the tributes that are making their presences known.
To my left and my right, there are Capitol musicians beating drums and playing fancy instruments that I've never seen before in my life. The resonating sounds put a melody in my head, making me dance along and sing with the beat. But that's not what excites me or grabs my attention.
The horses do.
Our horse is extremely beautiful, with the wind whispering his hair into the air like flames. ''Wellington'' is what I've decided to call him, although I'm sure that he has a name already. The thundering of his hooves split through the loud noises ahead as he gallops through the urban landscape.
His muscles ripple from under his freshly groomed pelt and his powerful legs, propelling the chariot that Mackenzie and me are standing on forward. I can't hold it in anymore!
The peace and quiet that Mackenzie and me shared is soon shattered by my excitement – screaming with delight, whooping into the frigid air as we continue to move. Through my peripheral vision, I notice the heads turning and staring our way. My lips twitch into an incredibly wide smile, my teeth glaring in the sunshine as I can't help but shake and jog in place.
''What's wrong with you?'' Mackenzie asks, moving away from me slowly. ''You look like you're being jangled by invisible strings or something, but apparently your puppeteer is drunk...''
It doesn't stop, though. ''Seriously!'' he cries. ''Stop bouncing, pouncing, and squealing! It's hurting my ears and you're making all of the other tributes look at us!''
''Did you know that the horse that's carrying us is a Friesian horse?'' I inform. ''I read about them back in District Ten, and I always searched for one, but they're so rare where we're located. I begged my daddy so many times to get me one of them, and even though we never actually acquired one, it's okay – because I have one now!''
''Okay? I didn't ask.''
''Did you know that although the conformation of the breed resembles that of a light draft horse, Friesians are graceful and nimble for their size?!''
''Gracie, I don't ca—''
''They've been around for centuries, way before Panem was even a country, so they're actually quite ancient.''
''I—''
''They're not always black, either. I bet you didn't know that, did ya?'' Looking up at the black fur, the images of different colors flash across my mind. ''These breeds are sometimes born chestnut, but they aren't usually registered in Panem. There are only one in every three thousand, though I bet most of them are actually located here.''
Jumping up and down and slapping my hands against the lining of our chariot, I accidentally unbutton one of my overall straps and let it hang against the side of my ribs. My boots clang repeatedly, and I inadvertently lose my balance, taking a few faltering steps towards Mackenzie. ''They also—''
''Gracie, shut up! I don't care, and you talk too much about these stupid horses!'' he yells at me, trying to hold himself straight as he's hanging on the edge of our chariot. ''Also, watch out. There's a thing called personal space, and you're violating mine!''
Unfortunately for me, I see it coming before I can avoid it. The heat of Mackenzie's fingers creep into my consciousness, making me want to yell my heart out. It's an invasion, an unwanted and uninvited touch. The palms of his hands rest against both of my shoulders, and that's when I snap.
There's no winding period – no warning – in my tantrum. It's a full force from the very start like a bomb with no fuse, just an immediate explosion. I scream as loudly as I can, as if I'm being beaten with a stick, grabbing Mackenzie by his arms and pulling him with me as I stumble backwards and lose my footing.
One of the flowers that was sitting above my ears falls off to the ground, just like me and Mackenzie. Both of us land roughly against the concrete floor of the Capitol's main road, grunting and rubbing our heads in anger.
Just then, I see multiple flowers being thrown at our chariot, lying on the ruby-plated floor like frozen flames, bringing their cool blaze to the warm spring morning.
''Wellington!'' I shout, attempting to get up – but I can't, because Mackenzie's childish body is hovering over my legs, trapping me on the ground. He looks at me angrily, throwing himself up but continuously falling when his feet make contact with my elastic leggings, forcing him to slip back down.
''Get off of me, Mackenzie!'' My scream rents the air like a siren; nobody screams like this unless it's terror beyond annoyance, or unless they want something that they're unable to receive.
''Ah, shut your mouth!'' he demands, placing his hands over his ears. ''You scream like a kid, and it's hurting my ears!''
Once again, every head turns to us. Our bodies are plastered on the monitors above, displaying us in front of the entire nation. The tributes from Eleven pass us by, shaking their heads and looking at us with puzzling gazes. Twelve does the exact same. District Thirteen's female tribute simply turns away from us, while the boy gives us a look of solicitude. ''Get up,'' he whispers.
''Mackenzie!'' I bark, divesting his body off of mine by repeatedly pounding him against the head, but he fights me right back, forcing me to bite at his arms.
The two of us stay on the floor, rolling around and tearing our clothes to pieces for minutes on end. Really, I don't know when it'll end.
Sebastian Hammond, District Five
Peering up at the monitors above, I shake my head at the two tributes from Ten that are fighting each other on the street floor, rolling around and tearing their chariot outfits as they exchange blows.
Imogen's giggles pass by my ear, her innocent voice sounding way too friendly. If it were me laughing, I'd make sure that I sounded as acrid as possible. ''Aw, that must suck for them.''
''Who cares?'' I say. ''That's what they get for being idiots. They were specifically told to stay in their chariots, so why would they start fighting and ruin their chances at sponsors?''
Returning my attention back to the front, I notice Imogen looking at me with her hands crossed together. Maybe she doesn't like my negativity, but maybe I don't care.
''Stop being so pessimistic, Seb.''
''Why are you calling me 'Seb'? My name's Sebastian. I don't even know you well enough to be given nicknames,'' I retort. ''And stop being so optimistic. You must be naïve to believe that anything good comes from this.''
Waiting for her to respond so that I can debunk her argument, I notice that it never comes. Instead, she's staring up ahead, where the District Two tributes replace the ones from Ten on the monitors. Both of them wear breathtaking white robes that have arrows swerving and circling throughout the outfit, representing blood, I believe. I say that because the red is faintly dripping at their bandaged legs, and on their waists are weapon-covered belts that have all types of dangerous items in them.
The two boy takes out a knife and flings it into the air, following that with a smoke pellet that erupts when the two make contact. Not to mention that they have falcon-like, blood-smeared wings that are painted in an aura of burning, crimson red – and they actually work, allowing the two of them to hover just a bit.
The boy leans his cheek towards his District partner's face, asking for a kiss, I think. She denies him at first, but then he says something, probably convincing her to do it. She leans in, ready to give him a peck, but then he quickly turns his face and presses his lips against hers, grabbing her left hand and raising it into the air as he cries out a bellow of triumph. The Capitol easily falls for his actions, decorating their chariot with coins, jewelry, panties, shirts, shoes – anything that these men and women can easily throw out there.
Wanting to get into the action, the District Twelve tributes manage to find a way to project their District number into the air. On the monitors, it shows the luxurious jewels on their bodies concentrating the sunlight that's penetrating them, and together, like a puzzle piece, they bounce off of one another until they project a hollow number twelve in the air, allowing the two to procure the same amount of love that the Careers gained just a few moments ago.
Realizing that everyone else is stealing the show, I quickly begin to fidget with my arena outfit, as I have to make a quick decision in order to compel the audience to look my way – but I work while not thinking properly, unaware of what I'm doing.
Playing with my outfit seems like the best thing to do, so I look down at my starry-studded, open-buttoned suit and mess around with my bow. Sticking out of my clothes are a bunch of electrical input devices, but I'm not exactly sure how to start them up.
A loud zap emits from the left of me, and steam begins to descend upon Imogen and I. Turning, I gape when I see her taking out the stars on her opened blue cardigan, tossing them up into the air, and controlling the electrical flow that begins at the ends of her skirt, traveling down the dual tube of plugs that zap at her golden high heels. The electrical currents bounce off of our chariot and strike the little stars, causing the number five to appear in the sky everywhere I turn my head.
How could she be implementing this? She has no clue what she's even doing and just decided to carry out whatever seemed best, just like I tried to do. That's so stupid, though!
''Hmm, what's wrong?'' Imogen asks, probably aware of the scowl on my face. Removing the nasty look from my features, I turn away from her. ''Are you upset about something?''
''There's no reason for me to be upset, and it's none of your concern,'' I reply harshly. But I am upset. I want something way bigger than to just be upstaged by everyone around me; I want more than to just be cast aside and left as nothing more than a waste of space.
''Aw, are you jealous that Cassian was kissed by Camille? Do you want that type of love?'' she teases, winking as she lowers her body to meet my height. ''You've never been kissed before, have you?''
''What—? N-No, that's not it— I-I don't even care for such a silly act of—''
''Come here!'' she coos, grabbing me by my shoulders. As Imogen draws closer, I feel my heart beat so hard that I fear she'll hear it. I'm praying so badly that this doesn't turn into an awkward moment, that this weird relationship that we have won't become so affectionate – that she won't treat me like this.
With my eyes closed, I feel Imogen's painted nails softly dig into the underside of my jaw, elevating my head upwards as I sense her lips... on my cheek. It's a peck that an older sister would place on her younger brother. But it's not just one; it's at least fifteen. Over and over again, both sides of my cheeks are stained with red lipstick, along with my nose, my forehead, and my chin.
I turn away to avoid Imogen's gaze, but the sudden rosiness of my cheeks gives me away. ''Here, let me help you out,'' she offers. ''See the little plugs at your feet? Remove the stars from your bow and place the two together, and then throw the star up into the air – the result of that action will be a spark that allows the two to interact and create something beautiful. Or, if you want, you can simply launch it by holding down on the tubes. Here, try it.''
With her guidance, her hand placed on mine, I throw one up into the air and watch as the blue light pops the golden piece of luxury. Suddenly, everything seems much brighter. To my amazement, the reaction doesn't just create a five – no, there's much more to it.
Inspecting the stars much more closely, I discover the glistening of its opalescent, glitter-covered light. The fireworks that produce behind the haze explode above, vivid colors igniting the autumn-colored sky. The air has a tincture of gun powder, a smell that takes me back to the bonfires that I never got a chance to enjoy back in Five. Just how odd is it to be witnessing something that you could never appreciate before..?
''Get closer, Seb! Don't be afraid,'' Imogen laughs, placing her hands underneath my armpits and hoisting me up into the air. We're projected on the overhead screens, and as we continue to let out an exciting launch of flares, the reactions of other tributes are shown.
The girl from One is laughing and clapping excitedly, while her partner has a small smile on his face. The two from Four are even sharing a delicate moment of friendliness together as they watch us mess around, the girl grinning widely.
This is just the type of occasion that you can't help but smile at when you see it before your own eyes.
My mouth twitches, and I attempt to fight back a simper, but with the way that my lips tug upward and my teeth become perfectly aligned, I can't help but let out a genuine grin.
For once, I can say that I've received something... nice.
Camille Lussier, District Two
This penthouse resembles a home that those extra rich people in Two would buy when they get paranoid about having too much money. It's like a fortress, the only problem being that the floors above belong to the other Districts.
Either way, it's hard to even fathom how much this all costs to live in. With a quick check, I look back at the elevator of our main room, awaiting Cassian's arrival. ''Where is he?''
The television screen is playing recaps of the chariot rides, but because I've seen them already – I was actually in them – I flip the channels until I land on some kind of sitcom. He thinks he's smart, doesn't he? He used me to his advantage in order to make sure that he looked like the one who was enjoying their company. Fine. I'll teach him a lesson, then.
Since I've already met the bad side of Cassian, I don't think it matters if I fuck around with him or not. Really, I'm tired of being nice to people anyways – it's much easier to let loose and use what I have to my advantage, like I've been doing for years.
''Yeah, I think it was pretty good.'' Sianna's voice causes me to flinch, so I decide to slump downwards on the couch, slowly taking a sip of the icy cold water in my glass cup. ''Both of them were aware of what they needed to do, so I—''
Shit. Not bothering to shy away anymore, I slide upwards and meet their gazes.
''What are you doing?'' Marelle questions, her hands slapping against her eyelids and sliding down her face.
''Just waiting for Cassian.'' I respond.
''Waiting for him while sitting there in nothing but your strapless lingerie?'' She seems appalled, judging by her tone. But then she attempts to stifle a laugh. ''You know he's gonna be uncomfortable when he gets here, right? I mean, three adult females – one of them in lingerie – in a room with a lone boy? That spells out trouble. Fun trouble.''
''Are you seriously condoning this?'' Sianna asks.
''You can get some, too, if you want. Come on,'' I purr, patting on the cushion right beside me and blowing a kiss. ''We're all mature adults here, and we can make reasonable decisions, you know?''
''No thanks,'' she denies my request, turning away and strutting towards the kitchen.
''Your loss.'' Facing Marelle again, I inquire, ''Where's Cassian, anyway?''
''Last time I saw him, he was walking around and interacting with the other tributes. He should be here in a few—''
A loud ding stops her from finishing her sentence, and Cassian emerges into the center of our comfy home. Inside the elevator, I see white marble walls and the silver handrail that made me stare in awe at first sight. He takes small, soft steps over the blue carpet, allowing the doors to slide shut and letting the elevator go back down to the main lobby underneath District One's floor. ''—minutes.''
''Sorry that I came back so late. The crazy chick from Five kept messing around with the elevator buttons and sent us all the way up to District Twelve's floor, so I had to wait in order to get back. She ran around and started opening doors and closing them randomly, and nobody knew what that was about, so... yeah.''
Jumping out of my seat, I quickly jog towards Cassian, my feet touching the cold floor. ''Hey, buddy!'' You started it and used me for your own personal use, so I'm going to do the same to you. Sticking out my hand, I wait until he holds it and then begin to massage his smooth, pampered knuckles.
''Uh, you good?'' He tries to draw away from me, but I clutch onto him tightly. ''You seem like you want me for something...'' He then sees my attire. ''Oh?''
Smiling in order to distract him from his previous thoughts, I say, ''I'm perfectly fine. And I just wanted to ask you if it's okay that I rely on you for a bit. Like, in the arena, can we be actual District partners and fight together, protect each other and not back-stab? I've seen it happen way too many times, and I don't want us to be like the previous few – so let's maximize the chances of Two gaining another Victor, okay?''
''Of course,'' he says quickly, catching me by surprise. ''You didn't need to ask, you know? Loyalty is something that I take pride in, and I'd never betray a fellow ally.''
Surprised by his comment, I slowly back my hand away, feeling like I might actually be able to let up with him around. But then he opens up his mouth again and makes a disgusting joke, which wasn't all that bad, actually. ''But... I didn't know you craved me like this, Camille. And in front of our mentors? They must be in on this, too. Don't you guys think it's a little naughty to be expecting of me to do something so freaky with you three?''
''Gross,'' Sianna simply says, returning to her regular activity.
Lead him on and make him think that you're down to get dirty. ''Definitely. If you wanna, we can do something right now, but I don't think Sianna and Marelle are interested in joining. But that's good, because it only further means that I have you all to myself...''
''Yeah I suppose so. Really, though, you could've at least worn a push-up bra to make me think that you had a busty pair.'' When he says this, I twitch internally. ''Your body's your most important asset, so learn to use it to your advantage, kiddo.'' With a pat to my head, he begins to walk off, but when he sees that I haven't moved, he asks, ''Are you really 'bout it, or are we doing something lame like base one?''
''Um, actually, I'm not really in the mood anymore,'' I make up an excuse. What a scumbag! My body is apparently my greatest asset, huh? Not my mind, not my intelligence, not my ability to manipulate people as much as I have already, right?! ''But thank you for suggestions. I'll take them as compliments and use your words to further develop my... body.''
Nodding, he walks into his own room and leaves me to myself. My fists clench tightly, almost to the point where I become white-knuckled, and my eyebrows furrow, as if the smoke of anger that's sitting in my head is visible.
''Ooh, someone's mad...'' Marelle eggs on.
''Damn right, I'm fucking mad. I went out of my way to get something that'll help me in the long-run, and I obtained it, but the kid told me that the most important part of myself was my body. He told me what my best feature was. He insulted me. Who the fuck does he think he is?''
''You're selfish, Camille, and I like that,'' Marelle proclaims. ''Just make sure that you don't get blindsided, okay? But don't get too upset. He's your ally and loyal partner. Boys will be boys, we've all been through this before.''
''Preach!'' Sianna announces.
''Yeah, I guess they will be,'' I sigh. ''But that doesn't mean that they can get away with insulting people without receiving some sort of payback. Cassian can think that I'll let it slide all he wants, but when the time's right, I'll get him back.''
A/N: Ayeee! Quick A/N here. I had a lot to say, but I decided to keep what I was planning for a later chapter, if it comes up. I know that I didn't write the President's announcement. If I did, it would've just been a repeat of the first two chapters, and I doubt that you guys wanted to go through that again. Besides, it would've been boring. There's nothing creative that I could've done with that. Maybe another bombing, but what's the point in being repetitive? Hopefully this chapter was enjoyable, though. Lastly, I know that I didn't fill you guys in on what every tribute was wearing, so here are the rest of the outfits below:
District One - Golden Athenian robes decorated with extravagant Tanzanite and Taaffeite jewels, with a crystal sash and a queen-like/king-like headband.
District Three - Chayona and Gideon were dressed in slim black attires that form colors at the gloves. Chayona represented water with a buzz of electricity, and Gideon represented fire with flame stains on his back. Together, a magenta, holographic, levitating circle held them up, an equal of the two colors mixed together.
District Six - Both tributes are covered in speed suits that display bolts of color-changing lightning that varies, depending on their mood. A large Six stuck out from their backs, representing a turbo-engine to make them appear revved up.
District Seven - Both from Seven are covered entirely in roots, different shades of leaves, and are wearing crowns that have vines hanging lively at their foreheads, signifying Condor and Natalie as king and queen, or better yet, protectors of the forest.
District Eight - Dressed as genies, Eloise was speckled in a pink and violet garment, her sleeves stooping to her mid-shoulder, while Darren carried a cutlass with his vest open, allowing his chest to be revealed to the audience. The two chewed bubblegum and blew out large loads of the treat, sending various colors of bubbles flying into the atmosphere. Below them, smog and foam of purple, red, blue, yellow and green shot up, encompassing them in the lights that came from a rubbed lamp. The crowd went wild with these two.
District Nine - With her hair done in a waterfall braid, Cherokee wore a grain-made dress that swirled down to her thighs and created a cape that resided at her bronze high heels. Wrapped around her arms were pieces of her hair used to mix a bit of color to her outfit, and a tattoo design swirled up her left leg. Millet wore a butler-like shirt, his hair styled in a curled up manner, supported with a headband. He wore a collared shirt under a suiting vest, his upper attire being pushed into his baggy, apron-covered pants, with a sparkling belt making an appearance.
District Ten - Literal bulls. They were dressed like ancient warriors, measured with robes that carried bull heads on their naked arms, and even being designed to wear a bull helmet. There were autumn flowers scattered over their bodies, and a lasso tied around both of their waists. It shouldn't shock you that when they fell, they broke the hooves of their furred shoes.
District Eleven - Can you say Nubian God and Goddess?
District Thirteen - Dressed to impress, Pavel and Krissy wore post-apocalyptic outfits, appearing dirty on purpose. Pavel had on a technological, nuclear vest that covered his chest only, until the lower portion of his body was coated with combat pants. His arms were bandaged with elastic, silver-lined ropes, and he held a large, forearm machete in his hands. Krissy's hair was tangled a mess for a reason, adding two twigs on the top of her radioactive goggles. She had on gloves and an urban sports bra with combat short shorts that were covered in a belt that held multiple bullet casings in them. In her arms was some sort of large gun, showcasing the Capitoles advanced economy and militia.
Ight, questions time.
Favorite tribute/POV, why?
Least favorite tribute/POV, why?
Favorite chariot outfit?
Least favorite chariot outfit?
Predictions for any of these tributes or chart, either one would be nice.
Okay, maybe some outfits are highly unrealistic, but this is just a story. It's fun, 'kay? Well, that's all for now. See y'all next time, and have an amazing morning/day/night/whatever time of day it is for you wherever the hell you are! ^-^
