Yeah, I know, this is wayyyyy overdue. At least I have an excuse this time, though. The only thing I've done over the past week or two is eat, sleep, and work on science fair. Fortunately, it's over. All I have to do now is present at locals, which is basically just some judges from my school. Of course, if the judges give my project a superior, I have to move onto districts, and if I get a superior there, I have to move onto state… But the most serious work for that is done. Thank God.
District 8: Tom Shavel, Age 14
"Hold still!" One of the members of my prep team, Goldie, orders as she covers me in a strange, soapy blue perfume. It feels incredibly strange on my skin, and I can't help but jerk away as she tries to rub it on my arms. She lets out a little grunt of frustration. "Honestly, Tom." She complains. "Would you please stop moving for a moment?" I roll my eyes. So far, I've hated everyone I've met in the Capitol. I hate my escort, Miavi- she's way too peppy and is obsessed with fashion. I hate my mentor, Torik- he seems to favor Alyx over me and has pretty much given up on helping me win. I hate my prep team- they're extremely annoying and keep making little comments on me. My guess is that I'm going to hate my stylist, too, whoever they are. The only person I haven't despised yet is Alyx, although even she can be a little annoying at times. At least she's nice to me, though.
After Goldie is finished with the perfume, another person on my prep team, Fleevos, takes out a pair of scissors and begins slicing through my hair. I immediately push him away. "What is it this time?" Fleevos asks, annoyed. "I don't want you to cut my hair." I tell him. "I like it fine just the way it is." He groans. "It looks like a mess, though!" He exclaims. "You have to let me cut it." I clench my fists and consider arguing back, but there's not much point in that. In the Capitol, people can do whatever they want to me and I'm powerless to stop it.
Fleevos snips at my hair, large chunks of it falling to the floor. I stare in horror at them, scattered about on the clean tiles of the room. First, they Reap me for these stupid games. Now they want to chop off my hair, as well as my dignity, too?
I'm forced to remain powerless, however, as Fleevos trims it back. When he's finished, I feel like my entire head has been replaced. I shake it back and forth for a moment, trying to get used to my lack of hair.
After a lot more exhausting, unnecessary preparation, my prep team finally stops. They take a moment to look me over. "I guess this'll do." Goldie finally says. "I think it's time to call in Arosie." The three hurry out of the room. I bask in the silence. Everybody in the Capitol is so talkative. You'd think they would run out of things to say after a while.
Not long afterwards, the door to the room creaks open, revealing a short, beaming Capitolite. She has unnatural purple eyes and bright pink hair. Her long dress is a brilliant blue. Her face falls just a little when she sees me, and I think I hear her mutter, "I thought I was going to get a cuter one", but she never loses her smile. "Hi!" She exclaims, holding out her hand. "I am Arosie Benoict! What's your name?" "Tom." I answer simply. I barely know this woman, but I already despise her.
"Well, Tom," She says, "I'm your new stylist! I'm going to make you look amazing for the chariot rides!" "Great." I say. She can't seem to detect my sarcasm. "This is my first time doing this, and I couldn't be more excited." She rants as she hurriedly grabs supplies from various tables. "When I'm finished with you, you're going to look fabulous!" "What outfit do you have in mind?" I question. Arosie's smile grows larger at this question and she throws a paper in my direction. I stare down at it. I can't make out a whole lot of the details, but it seems as though I'm supposed to be wearing a patchwork shirt and pants with needles sticking out of them. From what the sketch shows, the needles are going to make different designs, like flowers and butterflies.
"So, what do you think?" Arosie asks eagerly. I shrug, saying, "I guess it could work." Arosie pumps her fist in the air. "I knew you would like it!" She says. "Now, let's get to work."
District 9: Rois McCormack, Age 15
"No way." I say. "There is no way I'm wearing a dress at the chariot rides." "Oh, come on!" My stylist, Juliana, pleads. "It'll look great on you! And besides, we already have the design all planned out." "No." I say. "Not happening." I absolutely despise dresses. They're super uncomfortable and much too fancy for me. The last thing I want to do is wear one at the chariot rides.
"Well, you can either wear the dress or be a stalk of grain." Juliana says. I think for a moment, then sigh. "Fine." I mutter, gritting my teeth. "I'll wear the stupid dress." Juliana lets out a squeal of excitement. "You're going to look fabulous, trust me. You and Albin will look like royalty in the clothes we have planned out!" she exclaims. I roll my eyes, glancing over at Albin to see what he thinks of this whole thing. He's been pretty quiet so far, patiently allowing his stylist, Doridon, take measurements on him. Doridon talks a lot- he keeps telling a story about how he used to be an actress back when he was younger- but Albin doesn't seem to mind all that much. He simply nods and sometimes laughs at a particularly funny part. I've got to hand it to him. He's remained pretty calm the entire time we've been in the Capitol.
My prep team begins scurrying around me. They wrap tape measures around me, measuring the size of my head, the width of my waist, the length of my arms, and a million different things. I'm forced to simply stand there as they circle around me like birds. Every once in a while I hear them murmur things like, "I wish we got a prettier one this year" and, "it's like she's never bathed in her life". I honestly want to punch them in the face, but I manage to keep my cool.
Once my prep team is finished with me, I'm allowed to sit down and relax for a moment while they finish up the dress for me. Albin gets a break, too. He sits down beside me. Once all the stylists and prep teams have all left, he lets out a groan. "That was arguably the worst experience of my life." He says. I laugh. "It'll look great on you!" I mimic, using Juliana's high Capitol accent. Albin gives a chuckle. "Seriously, though," He says, "I had no idea a human being could talk that much before I met Doridon." "Can we even consider Capitolites human?" I point out. He nods, saying, "Good point." We fall silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. In the silence, I take the time to look at Albin. His features are definitely very girlish. His face is softer than a normal boy's, and his body looks more like a girl's. I wonder if he's a transgender. They're very rare, especially in the districts, but not unheard of. I think about asking him about it, but I decide against it.
We wait for a little bit longer. Finally, Juliana comes back in. I gape at the outfit she holds up.
The dress is extremely long, going all the way down to the floor. It's very poofy, too. The poofs of the dress have been decorated with glitter markings of stalks of grain. The torso is made of extremely fine silk, and the entire thing is a bright golden color. I hate to admit it, but… I'm impressed.
My prep team orders me to shed my clothes. Afterwards, I slip on the dress, which is surprisingly comfortable. Next, Juliana hands me a tiara. It's also gold and has stalks of grain sticking up from it. I'm given golden high heels, as well. It's hard for me to walk in them, but thankfully, I won't have to walk much once I'm in the chariot.
After applying some makeup to my face, my prep team leads me to the mirror. "Well?" One of them, Helia, I think, asks. "What do you think?"
I stare at myself for a moment. I look like a completely different person than the girl who was Reaped ony a couple of days ago. I seem so… queenly, I guess. My once matted red hair has been combed neatly so that it falls to my shoulders. My lips are full, coated with red lipstick. My fingernails have been painted with golden nail polish. The dress makes me seem calm and collected, exactly as a queen should be. My eyes give it away, though. They're filled with fear and exhaustion.
"I look… beautiful." I reply honestly. I can't believe I'm saying this. I've never considered myself even remotely pretty in my entire life. But even though I'm not a fan of Juliana, she did a good job.
"The Capitol is going to love you." Juliana tells me happily. "You'll forever be known as Rois McCormack, the Queen of Grain!"
District 11: Angelica Broome, Age 13
It's hard to dislike my stylist. I want to dislike him. I want to hate him for being a Capitolite, despise him for enjoying the cruelness that is the Hunger Games. But when Jayor smiles at me as he talks about his difficult childhood life in a quiet voice, I can't help liking him. Besides, he grew up being taught to enjoy the Hunger Games. It's not his fault they exist.
"My father left my family when I was only three." Jayor explains. For a Capitolite, he has a fairly natural appearance. The only thing he's changed is his hair, which has been dyed dark blue, and his eyes- one has been colored bright blue, and the other's been colored orange. "My mother was left taking care of five children. She never liked me much. Whenever one of my siblings did something wrong, she'd blame it on me." He sighs. "I wasn't very well liked at school, either. The kids there thought I was ugly. They said I was useless and stupid." Jayor becomes lost in thought for a moment, no doubt conjuring up the bad memories. "My mother threw me out of the house when I was only sixteen, saying that I 'had to make a life for myself'. I had almost no money and was probably one of the poorest Capitolites in Panem. I had no idea what to do." Jayor wordlessly sews the fabric of my dress for a minute before speaking again. "I finally opened up a tiny clothing shop, right on the edge of the Capitol. I had no house, so I slept in the back of it. I used most of the little money I had to buy cheap fabrics, and had almost no food to eat. Almost nobody bought my clothes at first. In fact, nobody even knew my store existed. But I guess somebody must have told all of their friends about me, because my store began to grow more popular. People complimented my designs. They were willing to pay extremely high prices for my work. Eventually, District 11's old stylist, Drayo, payed me a visit. He loved what I made so much that he offered me a spot on District 11's prep team. I accepted immediately, of course. I loved Drayo like the father I never had. He cared for me and taught me all sorts of things." Jayor's voice cracks. "But then he died. There was a car crash. He… he didn't make it out alive." I can feel tears building up inside my eyes. Don't cry, Angelica. I tell myself. Don't cry! Despite this, however, a single tear rolls down my cheek and lands on the floor. "I didn't want to take Drayo's spot as the new District 11 stylist, but everybody wanted me to, so I finally caved." He takes a long, ragged breath, then smiles a little bit. "And now here I am. Lots of people say I'm the best stylist for District 11 they've seen in ages, so I guess I proved everyone wrong. Now, let's see how you look in this dress." He fits the beautiful creation around me. It's a light pink color, and huge purple flowers have been attached to it. Jayor gives me golden sandals to wear, as well as a crown woven with vines and branches. He slips it onto my head. Standing back, he grins at his work. "You look beautiful." he compliments me. I give a quiet, "Thank you."
Jayor leads me out the door of the room we were in. We walk down a long hallway, where we come to another door. I push it open and gasp at what I see.
A huge chamber is laid out before me. The ceiling is covered in intricate designs and is extremely high up, and the room is very long. Scattered around the chamber are chariots and horses. Most of the tributes are already there and are milling around, chatting with each other. I spot Cole standing by a chariot drawn by two dark brown horses and run to him. "Hi." He greets me. "Hi." I say. I have to admit, things have been kind of awkward between us. I've wanted to ask him to ally with me for a while now, but I've never really gotten the chance to. And he doesn't really seem to like talking to me, anyway. I feel like he's always trying to avoid me.
I consider trying to talk to the other tributes, but as I look around, everyone I consider speaking with seems to be taken. Besides, I don't really want to ally with anyone besides Cole.
Wordlessly, I step into the chariot. I survey the scene. The Careers have seemed to meet up and are now talking and laughing. The girls from six and eight are chatting, and I see the pair from seven talking to each other. From behind me, I hear the two from District 12 arguing over something. Once again it occurs to me that everyone here has to die for me to return home.
How am I going to pull this off?
Questions:
How many years has Arosie been a stylist?
What does Juliana want Rois' nickname to be?
What color is Jayor's hair?
Also, here's the list of what pre-games chapter your character will get (this list IS subject to change):
Blaze- Private Sessions, Training Day 1
Ariana- Interview Prepping, Training Day 3
Juno- Interview Prepping, Training Day 2
Octavian- Countdown, Training Day 1
Jessica- Night before, Training Day 3
Scorpius- Train ride, Training Day 3
Nemo- Countdown, Training Day 3
Marine- Private Sessions, Training Day 3
Wyatt- Interview Prepping, Training Day 2
Kala- Before the Interviews, Training Day 3
Livia- Private Sessions, Training Day 1
Nathan- Train ride, Training Day 1
Verin- Private Sessions, Training Day 1
Carlina- Countdown, Training Day 1
Alyxandra- Train ride, Training Day 2
Tom- Meet the stylists, Training Day 1
Rois- Meet the stylists, Training Day 2
Albin- Countdown, Training Day 2
Maylee- Before the Chariot Rides, Training Day 3
Jon- Night Before, Training Day 2
Angelica- Meet the stylists, Training Day 2
Cole- Countdown, Training Day 1
Beckett- Night Before, Training Day 3
Erin- Private Sessions, Training Day 2
Iris- Interlude, Chariot Rides, Interviews, Training Score Reveals