OKAY, I did originally post this yesterday but I realized I hated it and had to redo it. So sorry, sorry, sorry!
Sorry guys, my internet has been crashing and I can barely get on here! This chapter is a freaking long filler, but it needed to be written. I promise exciting stuff will happen.. but this is still just the first day of the story! I don't own anything - well, partially Leif and Wichita and the Pastels.. and Amphitrite. But other then that, it's all Suzan Collins'!
And she live in a mindset that I could never move to
Until you find yourself it's impossible to lose you
Houstatlantavegas; Drake
ANNIE'S POV
I was in my room when the first flashes of Capitol-induced light shined across my heavy-lidded eyes. Even before I looked out the window I knew what the cause was - only something as glorious as the Capitol could cause such a display. The glimpses of the shimmering, towering metropolis was something no regular teenager wished to see, because the things associated with Snow and his domain were as sinister as the city was beautiful.
Nonetheless, I was drawn to the window like a moth to a flame.
The wind was knocked right out of me.
I had seen clips of this on TV - but the actual image... the grandeur, the size, the light, was unlike anything I had ever imagined.
My hands pressed up against the window, nose squished against the glass as I drunk in the sights greedily.
The train may have continued to speed along at the normal pace, but to me everything seemed to move slower. Time itself was beginning to halt, because everything around me started to look exaggeratedly sluggish. The few sparse trees that we passed morphed strangely, branches clinging to the little space my eyes could take in before being sucked away by an invisible force.
I could hear several knocks on hard wood, but it seemed very far away. Wherever the knock was coming from, it wasn't my door. I continued to stare out the window at my destination.
Suddenly my name was spoken very close to me, and a hand was placed on my elbow.
I jerked back instinctively, my heart pounding at the surprise.
It was Finnick.
"Annie, it's time to go. The train stops in less than a minute." His voice was quiet and hoarse, his eyes confused, although apparently unable to meet mine. I could only nod in response.
My thoughts jumbled as I reached for my sweater, which I had tossed on my bed, before I realized it wasn't there anymore.
"Where's my -"
"Oh, I already have it!" This time the voice wasn't Finnick's. I looked to my left, to find Leif standing there, and indeed clutching the cream-coloured wool sweater.
My eyebrows creased, wondering when Leif had entered, but as a cold hand placed itself on my shoulder and began to push me out the door, I didn't have time to contemplate his sneaky entrance. Or, for that matter, how Stark, Antoinette, Petal, Amphitrite and Flicker had entered without me noticing.
"Now, for the first time in ages, I have a pair of attractive, fit tributes! And I won't let you go to waste, so come here you!" Stark's shrill voice called out to Amphitrite, her left hand already guiding me.
"Both of you smile and wave! Amphitrite, get your hands out of your pockets! Annie, dear, do stop looking so horribly confused. Finnick, if you could -"
The rest of her tirade I didn't hear, either because she had lowered her voice or I simply did not want to hear it anymore. Not that I had enough concentration to listen to her, as Antoinette's fingers battled with my hair and Petal and Flicker pulled at my clothes, impervious to my discomfort. Leif was shouting something over my head to Stark, and she in retaliation narrowed her eyes and hissed something back to him. Mags was watching with real sadness in her eyes as we were herded like cattle. And Finnick... where was Finnick?
I craned my neck around, desperate to catch a glimpse of my mentor. He would know what to do. He was an expert with the Capitol crowd, surely he could tell me something that would calm my nausea and ease the frightening anxiety that was building up.
And there he was, directly behind me, motioning for Mags to join him. Desperately, my body being trampled on all sides, Amphitrite and I being squashed together, I tried to keep my feet moving as I waited for him to look back at me.
Finally, when I had almost given up, he did. Just briefly. Enough for him to see the pain and confusion in my eyes.
"Smile!" He shouted, the din of the shouting photographers becoming overwhelming as the train's doors creaked open. "But not too much! Be a -" his words were distorted. "sweet!" Was the only other word I caught as Stark squeezed between us and the blinding lights of the cameras consumed my vision once again.
SCOPE REDDER'S POV [PHOTOGRAPHER]
District 4's tributes were impressive this year, I had to say. My elbows flung out instinctually as I glimpsed the attractive faces exiting the train. The more attractive the tribute, the more the picture was worth - every photographer here knew that. And so far these two were the best-looking pair yet.
The boy was steely and determined, his body tan and muscular. But his eyes were his best feature, and not because of the colour - because they contained the self assurance most Careers from D4 exuded. The Capitol loved a good Career. The girl, however, was much different from her partner.
She certainly was no Career - unless she was, but hiding it behind an innocent wide-eyed dove angle. Because that's exactly what she looked like. Her eyes, unlike her partner's, were filled with wonder and a slight sadness. Her skin was pale, especially for someone from D4, but not in a sickly way. She was apparently just the kind of person who didn't tan. You learned to judge these things as a photographer - sometimes gamblers asked us paparazzi our impression of a tribute before placing a bet. We see things no one else does.
Her hair was long, her body short but lithe. She would be just fine with sponsors, by my judgement.
She seemed mesmerized by our lenses, and as she passed a small smile grew on her face, encouraged by our shouts, and she waved slightly. We went crazy as she did, and a laugh escaped her lips at our hysteria.
However, when her concentration dropped, so did her coordination, and her foot caught with a snag in the concrete. The boy next to her was quick, however, and he grabbed her arm before she could topple any further.
They had almost become out of sight when she looped her arms through his and smiled gratefully.
ANNIE'S POV
"Thank-you Amphitrite!" I whispered to him appreciatively.
"No problem, Annie." He replied, eyeing me with curiosity. He seems to struggle with whether or not to say something before he continues, despite his previous resistance.
"If the photographers loved me that much, I would have been stumbling too." A slight smile crept onto his normally serious face, lighting it up.
I couldn't help but throw back my head and laugh, looping my arm through his. My laugh pleased him, because a real grin broke out on his face before he turned his eyes to the ground and attempted to return to his regular stoic visage.
Before I could utter another word, we're being wrenched apart, Leif and the Pastels grabbing at me while other foreign, brightly painted women pull at him.
"It's time to get ready," Leif pats my back sympathetically. "You'll see him when you're both done."
"But, I -"
"Just trust me Annie." He smiles, looking down at me. "But we've got to get going, we're already behind schedule!"
Before I know it we're in a cold silver room, sparkling and shimmering with big lights and pristine metal.
I'm instructed to remove my clothes, and Leif leaves the room before I can blush at his presence.
Antoinette coaxes me to lay down on the central table, and I arch my back as the cold assaults my unprotected body.
"I know it's cold sweetheart," She smiles, her hair bobbing as she begins to place white paper strips along my body. "But these will light you right on fire."
And indeed they do. Each girl takes a section of my body, and they press the innocent-looking strips all over me before ripping them up with such force it brings tears to my eyes. The girls are constantly echoing the word sorry!, and along with the sound of hair being torn from skin it's all I can hear. I learn this magically painful thing is called "waxing".
"At least you don't have much hair!" Petal smiles empathetically, nearly letting out waterworks of her own as she catches a glimpse of the tears in my eyes.
"Exactly, darling, it could be so much worse!" Flicker nods over my head, her blue skin entering my vision briefly.
When they're done with turning my body into a hairless wonder, they turn their attention to my face. After some oohing and aahing, they decide to do minimal work because "one can only improve so much!"
My eyebrows sting, my body stings, my head aches from the thousands of times Petal's brush ran through my hair - and I can't help but feel surely this is training for the pain we would be feeling in the Arena!
I voice my thoughts, and they laugh hysterically before continuing on, assuring me it's not.
Among the numerous unimportant jokes I make throughout the unceremonious ripping of hair, I manage to strangle out one question.
"Where'd Leif go?"
"Oh, he's readying your outfit!" They titter excitedly, the verve almost visibly running in their veins. "And, oh, you're just going to love it!"
That's the only explanation I get, because after that I'm hushed once again to begin the more intricate beautification process.
I can feel my hair being swept off the nape of my neck, being swept into a surely intricate hairdo. Shimmering creams are loaded onto my body, coating it thoroughly until I've become a sticky mess. Flicker then rubs glitter into my body until I can feel my skin going raw from the friction.
"Too bad she's too young for tattoos," Antoinette sighs. "She would look just darling with a few gold ones!"
I can't help but feel the slightest bit relieved that I haven't yet turned eighteen. At least I would spare myself the embarrassment of ludicrous swirls running down my face in metallic colours.
Just as I'm settling into their poking and prodding, they announce I am officially ready to go see Leif.
I sit up, back creaking as I do, and begin to turn to the reflective surface to my right.
"NO!" I'm admonished, three pairs of painted hands covering my eyes at once. "You can't look till Leif has you in costume!"
"Alright, alright," I laugh, fluttering my hands at theirs' in an attempt to restore my vision. "I won't look, I promise!"
"Okay," Flicker sighs cautiously, eyeing me with raised eyebrows. "You better not! We didn't work so hard to have it spoiled prematured."
The other girls nod in agreement, apparently not noticing Flicker's lack of proper grammar.
"I understand, don't you -" They're out of the room without so much as a sound. Damn, how is everyone doing that?
"Are you ready, Annalaese Cresta?"
My head shoots up instinctively as Leif's voice echoes throughout the room. His tone is as playful as the half-smile on his face, jade eyes dancing.
I'm suddenly very aware of how very naked I am. Blushing, my hands shoot up to cover myself.
"Don't worry, I've seen it all." He chuckles, walking towards me, hands behind his back. His reassurance doesn't lessen my discomfort, however, and my blush only grows deeper.
"Just move your hands, Annie." His voice is quiet, trying to soothe me. "I've got to get you into this thing."
The next few minutes are spent manoeuvring me into a strange contraption, a bikini of sorts, glittering green-and-blue diamonds cut to look like scales covering the entirety. The bikini in itself wasn't strange, but the hooks and harnesses attached to it were. When I asked Leif about it, he simply grinned and continued strapping me in.
"Now close your eyes," He licked his lips, focusing on his work. I did as I was told.
I was expecting to feel my legs buckle as the attachment went over my shoulders, but whatever it was that Leif had designed, weight almost nothing.
"Not quite yet," He whispered when I began to lift my eyelids.
His hands hold my hips steady with a vice-like grip, and a series of clicks were audible as more of the additions were snapped into place.
"Okay," He breathed. "Now."
FINNICK'S POV
"Oh, you worry too much. This is not the part to be concerned about. That comes in two weeks."
My eyebrows practically flew off my forehead.
"Are you kidding? We both know the initial reaction they get from the crowd is vital!"
Why Mags is discrediting the Opening Ceremony I really don't know. We learned our lesson in underwhelming a crowd three years ago when neither one of our tributes received a single sponsor. A simple Chariot outfit and boring interview had seen to that.
"Finnick," She places a weathered hand on my shoulder. "Wichita has excellent skills as a designer, and Leif is beyond reproach when it comes to dramatic outfits. And besides, anything done today can be undone at the interview."
Her soft brown eyes and encouraging words finally allow me to ease myself into my seat, even though I still can't seem to sit still or focus on one thought.
It doesn't help that the splitting headache from an hour ago still hasn't ceased.
"You're right," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You're right."
"I know I am," She rubs my back, and although it is a normally soothing maternal gesture it doesn't ease my anxiety. "Annie will be a hit," She whispers.
"We all saw the Reaping broadcasts. She's the prettiest girl in the Arena. They'll flock to her," She pauses. "To us."
"But is it enough?" I can't help but ask, my voice practically a whisper.
"We'll see." She doesn't try to patronize me, or give me false hope with her answer. That's why it's so easy to talk to Mags, because she wouldn't ever lie to you.
"By the way, have you seen Annie do anything like what happened on the train before we arrived?"
My heart skips a beat.
"If she has, you know what that means, Finnick. It's a liability in the Arena..." She trails off, not needing to speak the rest of the words out loud. I know what she means. If Annie is constantly spacing out like that - like she did on the train, twice, and after her Reaping - it could mean death in the Hunger Games. It would mean turning our attention to Amphitrite to get out alive.
"No, not that I've seen." I force myself to look Mags in the eyes. "She was probably just out of it. I mean, how normal are any of us after being Reaped?"
I don't know what compelled me to lie to Mags. I never lie to Mags. To everyone else, sure, but never her.
It's my duty to keep my tribute alive.
That's what I tell myself. That's the story I'm sticking to.
Before Mags can respond, the ritualistic trumpet goes off, signaling the start of the Opening Ceremony. Settling into my seat, my heart seems to pound out of my chest as I grip at the leather armrests.
A hush falls over the crowd as the gates open, but the roar of their excitement is reinstated once the squeaks of chariot wheels are heard.
District 1 piles out, draped in luxurious white furs befitting their District's products, receive a huge reception - yelling, screaming citizens chant their names and rain objects down on their heads to personify their love.
District 2 soon follows, with a pair of dark-haired big-muscled Careers that will surely be a threat carrying large masonry hammers and covered in little cloth.
District 3 is next, in a sincerely underwhelming first appearance - their outfits consist of simple clothes lit up with a few wires, and the tributes that fill out the lackluster garments are just as plain. It's a shame, really. They have so much wiggle room with design, but they never seem to grasp it.
Mags hand finds my own, and soon we've laced them together tightly, fingertips going white.
We're next.
My breathing is ragged, and I have to force myself to focus my slowly blurring eyes. The room seems deafeningly quiet.
Until the chariot of District 4 wheels out, and the whole room is suddenly electrified. People are on their feet, shouting and shaking their fists. I'm among them, even before I spot their tiny faces. My throat already feels sore, my head pounding from the noise. My eyes can barely find the small figures, but when they do, I can finally see what's causing such a stir.
They're fish!
But not just any fish. Glorious, dangerous, sexy, fish. They shimmer and gleam as if water makes their translucent skin glisten, scales peak out of their flesh as if they had grown overnight.
Their faces remain humanoid, with just a dusting of green and blue around the edges. While the fabrics are soft and flowing, there is an undeniable air of danger around it. Every corner is sharp, every line screaming some kind of hidden peril. Attached to the hips of our tributes are large fins, along with even bigger ones down their arms. So big, in fact, I can see Annie has to hold her arms up to even fit in the chariot. Oh. Annie. Oh.
Yet another reason the crowd is going wild - her slim physique is practically up for sale. Her breasts are pushed up to a ridiculous height, gleaming with oils. Her stomach, even while completely covered in glittering scales, cannot hide her tiny waist or curved hips. Her legs are more efficiently covered with a transparent, gauze-like material spattered with green-and-blue diamonds, but nonetheless they are displayed to their best ability, small thighs glistening.
The men around the arena leer and stamp their feet, pulling off bracelets and throwing them overhead. I can't help but grit my teeth and clench my fists when a male Capitol citizen nearby whistles and begins thrusting his pelvis raucously. Fuck you all, my inner voice snarls. But I can't say it out loud - oh no, of course I can't. They're the ones who will send the most expensive gifts once Annie and Amphitrite are in the Arena - I can't piss them off now. Instead of satisfying my inner cravings, I focus on deep breathing, watching the overhead screen.
The cameras focus on our chariot, eliciting a huge response from the crowd. They love them.
The remaining chariots pass by without near so much as a reception, much thanks to Annie and Amphitrite's natural blessings.
"They've done it," Mags whispered to me excitedly as we raced down the hall, as fast as her aging legs would take her. "They really have a shot this year, Finnick!" Her eyes are glassy with tears at this development.
As cynical as I was, even I had to admit it. It was a great reception. Even Johanna Mason had clapped a hand on my shoulder, saying - not without a tinge of jealousy - Well, Odair, looks like you've actually brought me some competition this year.
So why wasn't I happy about it?
OHHH POSSESSIVE FINNICK AND SLIGHTLY NOT-THERE ANNIE? Heck yeah.
... I still hate this chapter. But I can't think of anything else to do.. so hopefully you guys were able to deal with it!
Did you guys like Scope's POV? I added it as a break, but I doubt we'll hear from that paparazzo again! I know this was a long and pretty boring chapter, but review and I'll get the next one up faster:D The next update should be Annie's POV while in the chariot and Finnick and Annie talking afterwords. Fun fun fun;)!
Please give me an idea of what you'd like to see in the story; less Annie POV, more Annie, more Finnick, less Finnick.. more Omniscient POV, y'know. Always helps when I know what the audience wants! Reviews always appreciated!
ANNIE'S OUTFIT: .