A/N As I began to write the chapter, I realized I needed to plan the story out further, hence the extra wait.

"I'm not putting that on," I say, staring Tatiana, my stylist, in the eyes — her artificial pink eyes, which shimmer like garish, neon signs of District Five that cannot mask the dreary danger of the power plants they shine above.

She rests her tattooed hand, covered in streaks of black and pink, on the mannequin where my costume sits in all of its tacky garishness. Electric bolts of fabric and plastic hang from all sides of the glitter-covered black jumpsuit, while a flashy yellow cape and belt complete the flashy terror.

"Yes. You are most definitely going to put this on," she insists. "Come on, we don't have much time."

Photine had commanded me to obey the stylist, but I don't think I can take any more. First was the humiliation of having to strip stark naked. Then, they scrubbed my skin until I felt as raw as a bird about to be cooked, completely defeathered and waiting on the countertop of a rich family's kitchen. Now I'm supposed to change into this monstrosity. It's time to practice some of that boldness.

"I'm not wearing that mess."

"Excuse me? This is my most marvellous masterpiece!"

"I'd prefer going naked than in your 'masterpiece.' "

"Fine then," she growls, "Go out naked."

Never mind. I sigh and let her put me into her "marvellous masterpiece."

As soon as the last zipper is pulled into place and the last clip is fastened, she spins me around to face the mirror. I look myself up and down, from my hair, slicked back and accented with sharp, yellow highlights, to my black boots, sprinkled with golden glitter.

"See?" she says, clearly enjoying her creation, "You look most brilliant."

"It looked better on the mannequin," I huff, though both she and I know that it's just a pitiful attempt to remain "stubborn."

"I didn't ask you." she huffs as she drags me through the building's labyrinth of hallways and rooms, leading me to the elevator that takes me down to the beginning of the parade.

From what I can see, the bottom floor of the Styling Center is a large, open room with a high ceiling, enclosed on three sides with transparent walls and open on the fourth to reveal a wide street, where the tribute parade takes place. The long rays of the afternoon sun shine in, illuminating the room with natural light, although it is supplemented with artificial lighting around the darker corners. I'm willing to bet that the majority of that power comes from my home district.

We meet Levina at the chariot. Levina, standing tall and confident, a smile plastered on her face despite her similarly garish costume.

"How do you like the costume?" she asks as I climb on.

I snort. "I don't. Somehow, my street clothes look better. You?"

She presses her lips together for a second. "Well..." She cocks her head and looks out towards the sunlight, shining as… well, the sun. "I don't hate it. But all its shimmer and glimmer still pales in comparison to real light."

"Philosophical much?"

"It just seems like our stylists tried so hard to make our costumes radiant when anything they fabricate won't measure up to the real deal."

"I don't know about any 'real deal,' but I agree that it just looks like they tried too hard."

Music begins to blare from deep speakers outside, and one by one, the chariots in front of us begin their ride through the Capitol. I grip the edge until my knuckles turn white, yet I still feel like I'm about to fall.

Levina smiles at me. "You'll be fine."

"I'm sure I will after everything's over. I don't feel fine now." The chariot lurches forward and I nearly fall off. "What do we do? Especially in these costumes? No one will take us seriously."

"Try to smile?" she suggests, "Wave? Stare menacingly into the distance?"

I don't have time to decide before we're out in the street. I guess I'll freeze like a deer in the headlights. Under the full blast of the sun, we travel down the road with cheering crowds on both sides. My eyes lock, staring at a non-existent spot somewhere in the distance as I try to avoid staring directly at one of my indirect killers, lest I actually fall.

"Psst," Levina says, "Our costumes don't look half bad now."

I break my frozen posture to catch a glance of Levina's cape, flapping in the wind. Many of the glittery strips now reflect the afternoon sun, making them almost too bright to look at.

"Not bad at all," I mumble back. I owe Tatiana an apology.

When we finally reach City Circle, the center of the Capitol, it is already late in the day. As the young President Snow begins his cordial welcome, the sun hides its face behind some of the tall buildings, leaving long, dark shadows that cover us like ominous clouds.

They soon take us to the tribute quarters, grumbling the entire way about being off schedule. In the rush to put everything together, everyone ends up ditching us, still in our costumes, in the District Five floor living room. Outside the window, the Capitol skyline now shines against the backdrop of the night sky.

"I was wrong about the costumes," Levina confesses, fingering the corner of the cape.

"You and I both."

"Not that way," she says, "I'm talking about what I said about them compared to the sun."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought the costumes were dull compared to the sun."

"They are," I say, "Look at them now. Just as ugly as they were before."

"But that's completely missing the point. We thought they were supposed to be brighter than the sun, but they aren't. They're supposed to..."

It clicks. "Reflect the sun," I say, finishing her sentence. "It doesn't have to look good as long as it looks good during the parade."

"That's rather genius," she comments. The costumes used their circumstances to make themselves look beautiful enough to be effective, albeit only as long as they need to be.

"That's not the only way to shine, though," I comment, gesturing at the scene outside the window.

She gazes at the Capitol lights, shining against the dark sky. "When there's no light in the surroundings, you have to rely on your own little light."

Tatiana pops her head in the room, breaking the quietness. "Oh. My. Gosh. I am most sorry! Come now! It's dinner timeeee!"

Levina smiles and follows her out, but I pause, staring out the window. Will I have light to reflect, or will I have to shine myself?

Better be prepared for both.

A/N I'm just taking this at my own pace, writing it for fun. Hopefully, the next one doesn't take too long.

Thoughts on Aaran? Was the extended metaphor clear? Where do you think this is going?

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