Chapter Sixteen; Capitol Doll
As they were leaving the building Stephanie caught glimpses of the other tributes; a tall blonde boy in a purple suit and a girl with pixie-like features and long, glossy black hair, but they were gone as quickly as she could see them. The waiting guards didn't go amiss either and Stephanie smiled ruefully, knowing that they were there to stop them from running. They were ushered quickly into waiting long, low black cars with tinted windows.
The interior of the car was cream, smooth and cold. The scent was fresh but it wasn't the same as Haymitch or that day in the field. It was fresh in the sense of something new, crisp and pristine.
She sat by the window but she couldn't see outside; it seemed they stopped that too. Frenkin sat beside her, clutching her hand tightly. She didn't know when the strange habit had begun but it had become almost second nature for Frenkin to reach for her hand and she his, whenever they were thrust into something new.
Isa sat on the other side of Frenkin, babbling away once more into what Stephanie had learnt was a phone.
The car pulled away silently and smoothly. Haymitch sat facing her; she felt his wary gaze on her. He probably thought she was going to act up tonight but Stephanie knew that she wouldn't. Tonight she would be the perfect Capitol doll.
The car slowed to a stop in what seemed like no time later. Haymitch got out first and then turned to help Isa out, and then Frenkin jumped out. Frenkin looked a lot older dressed up in Capitol style and without his glasses again; however he was still just a kid.
Haymitch glanced back. Stephanie was stalling. Looking around quickly Haymitch ducked back into the car. They locked eyes for a moment but no words were exchanged. There was no need…no point. She had to do this whether she wanted to or not.
She gave him a nod of understanding and he got out and helped her out of the car. Isa fussed over Stephanie and Frenkin for a moment.
Haymitch looked at her. She wasn't the girl who had dealt him a swift kick in the carriage in her boy's trousers and oversized shirt, barely able to walk in the boots. Hair falling unchecked about her shoulders, dark circles under her strange, keen eyes and her face with its sharp angles and arching brows that just screamed she was from a poor District.
Her hair had been tamed to fall in immaculate curls and waves down to her waist and a few glittery things secured one side of her hair back from her face; thankfully nothing like the contraption at the Opening Ceremony, he recalled with an internal smirk.
The dress fit her like a glove, plastering over any defaults in her physique. Her pale skin seemed to have taken on a gleam all of its own, concealing the years of being hidden from the sun. However it seemed that no amount of powders could conceal the chiselled lines of her face that hunger had sharpened. Her eyes seemed even sharper accentuated by the dark make-up. Ficen had done an excellent job in making her look like a woman; defiant, with bright, painted lips and sweeping brows, and snowy skin with balanced curves.
And yet Haymitch couldn't help but think how she looked even more vulnerable now than any of the times he had seen her faint or cry. To him she looked swamped; the glittering jewellery too bright and gaudy, her hair too pristine and perfect and lips an unnaturally bright, scarlet red. She looked like a doll; a fragile one, one that could break.
…
The high-pitched, crystal laughs reverberated off the marble walls. The party was beginning to warm up with a low murmur of conversation sounding around the room. Seneca Crane, Head Gamemaker for his fifth year running, glanced over at the clock. The tributes would be arriving soon. For the hundredth time he congratulated himself on a truly ingenious idea.
All around the cameras were rolling, waiting patiently for the arrival of the tributes. All the Capitol had wanted to attend the party but Seneca made sure to only allow the finest in.
"Are you really serious, Seneca?" the woman beside him said, giggling insistently.
Seneca lounging languidly in a white, leather chair turned to her, a crystal glass of champagne in his hand. "But of course Selwa dear. Out in these Districts they look at us in awe. Most of them could never even begin to fathom how to act in a civilised manner and live in the Capitol, so tonight shall be full of amusements," Seneca answered smoothly, ice blue eyes glancing over the woman for a moment before dismissing her.
The woman dissolved into another fit of tinkling laughter and Seneca excusing himself swiftly, made his way over to one of the tables.
"Ah Seneca, they should be arriving soon," A man in a dark green suit began discreetly when Seneca reached him.
Seneca scanned the huge doors where people were gathered in eager anticipation.
"Yes. The cameras are positioned correctly, Wirin?" Seneca checked. The man named Wirin nodded; the orange streak in his hair gleaming brightly.
"How do you think tonight will go?" Wirin asked, sipping daintily on his glass of champagne.
"Spectacularly of course," Seneca answered, a smug smirk pulling at his lips. "The whole Capitol goes mad over those few minute interviews with Flickerman, think what they will be like to see this. They practically are doing the interviewing themselves."
"How will you have them arrive?" Wirin asked.
"In order of their Districts. It is better as such. The 'Career' Tributes are not as likely to be intimidated as the outer Districts. It wouldn't do well to have the first tributes to appear, to be shaking with fear," Seneca answered with a short laugh. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the Capitol guards slip silently and discreetly into the room and mingle with the crowd. That could only mean one thing.
A Capitol official appeared at the top of the stairs where the doors were. The crowd gathered at the bottom turned to him expectantly.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Capitol, may I present to you the Tributes from the Twelve Districts of Panem of the 100th Annual Hunger Games and Fourth Quarter Quell."
…
"Remember to smile and whatever you do, do not fall down those stairs in those shoes," Haymitch's words were rushed in Stephanie's ear as they made their way down the long hall. Her arm was looped through Haymitch's as he guided her along, as she once more struggled in her shoes.
She nodded numbly. Isa led the way authoritatively and once more Frenkin was clutching her other hand. Suddenly they halted when they came across a Capitol official.
"Tributes straight ahead for registration, all else this way please." The woman gestured to a hallway that branched off to the right.
Panic made Stephanie weak and her grip on Haymitch's arm tightened even further until the satin of his black jacket was twisted and creased between her pale fingers.
Haymitch pried her fingers gently from his jacket, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before dropping it, and then with a last, pointed look he turned right.
Stephanie felt an almost helpless wave of emotion come over her, threatening to crush her, until she saw Haymitch's expression when Isa latched onto him and then she couldn't help but smile. The sensation of Frenkin holding onto her hand tightly filtered through her panicked haze.
"What do you suppose it'll be like?" Frenkin asked.
"I don't know," Stephanie answered truthfully. She looked in front of her and spotted the girl with the glossy, black hair and the boy in the purple suit as they were being registered.
"Is this really necessary?" she asked in a bitter tone as they pricked her finger, a ruby red drop swelling to the surface before they pressed it to the page.
The woman looked at Stephanie with a shocked expression; she most likely had never been outside of the Capitol.
Stephanie pulled her hand away harshly before joining the line once more; refusing whatever ointment was being administered.
Frenkin was staring at his pricked finger in awe.
"What is it Frenkin?"
"It's gone," he held his hand up to her.
"The ointment," Stephanie figured after a moment.
"Why do we have to be registered for? And why is your finger still bleeding then?" Frenkin rushed his questions together and Stephanie couldn't help a small chuckle.
"It's in case by some miraculous happenings we have managed to escape and replace ourselves with convincing doubles."
"That's stupid," Frenkin said.
"Yeah, it is," she admitted, straightening his bowtie.
"Here," Frenkin said and suddenly he forced a crisp, white handkerchief into her hand.
"Thanks," Stephanie replied softly. She knew it was stupid not taking the ointment but she was too stubborn to go back now and so she wrapped her finger as discreetly as possible in the cloth. It was only a pinprick anyway.
Suddenly there was a chorus of cheers and the double doors in front of them swung open.