Beneath the Crystal Sky

by laptop246

Fawn Dogwood is 16. She lives in District 7. She is part of a prosperous scouting troop. She has two little sisters. She is learning a trade. She is being courted. She was never meant to be Reaped. "Scout. Sister. Performer. Tribute. What am I, now? Staring into my own brown eyes, I find that I can't tell anymore." High quality. Works very closely with the original series.

14. II WAKING UP

PART II. PREPARING.
CHAPTER 14. WAKING UP.

Quick reminder: Scores are from 1 to 12, twelve the highest and nearly impossible. We pick up after the announcers would have reminded the audience this, so I figured I should put that out there. Um... in order to be fair to the tributes, I factored in their places in the compulsory exercises and determined their ranking among themselves that way. Then I dished out the scores as seemed right. So .. there is rhyme and reason to the scores. No real surprises, if you know what I mean.

I introduce the term 'outlying district' in this chapter. I believe that it was Crane who mentioned it during the movie - something about Katniss volunteering ... 'a volunteer from an outlying district - you can't ignore that.' Something like that. Anyway, I needed a term for those districts, so I remembered it all of a sudden, and now it's being put to use.

The scene with Raven and Fawn is based on Estoma's review for the last chapter. She brought up a valid point that I planned to correct in the arena before her review, but I figured I might as well point it out now. Fawn does have flaws. I just need to show them better.

~BTCS~

"Luster Diamond," Lavinia announces. I hold my breath as Luster's picture floats into focus behind Lavinia. The scores of the Careers often reflect the excitement of the Games that year. And the scores reflect the potential of the tributes, obviously. "8." No one in the room - Blight, the stylists, the prep teams (excluding Cinna, who is on screen), Garnish, Raven or I - react. My heart is beating, and I wish that I was from District 1 if only to stop the suspense.

"Shyne Luxor." Cinna shoots a brilliant smile at the camera. Shyne's beautiful face shimmers into focus. "10." I let out a slight breath. Tens are very high, normally the highest number achieved. Tributes who score 8 and up are most likely to win.

"Mason Flint." A teasing smile is sent to the obviously breathless audience, and then Lavinia's high soprano announces, "8." A slight frown creases my face. I would have expected at least a nine for Mason, with his obviously superior strength.

"Gneiss Mount." I note that Cinna really does look horrible in lavender - it clashes with his skin horribly. I shake the thought away quickly, not knowing where it had come from. Strange thoughts occur to people under stress, my mother had told me once. "9." I glance at Blight, who looks thoughtful but not surprised by this newest score. Shyne has the highest score.

"Chip Drive." The boy with the chubby face appears. I realize that he is probably the tribute I know the least about. I study his face for a moment, and decide to keep it that way. I know too much. "3."

"Pixel Flash." The intelligent District 3 tribute appears. "4." I consider her face for a moment, deciding that the score was appropriate. Scarlett and Pixel were both intelligent, but Scarlett's intelligence was much more resourceful than Pixel's. Pixel, by my guess, had worked in the designing industry, and never had to be resourceful. Scarlett was probably another of the many that had to be tricky to secure the next meal.

"Tide Playa. 10." I let in a deep breath, slow and steady. The Gamemakers have given two tens this year. "They are expecting an exciting Game, then," Raven mutters. I can hear him from across the room.

"Syren Seeh." I watch as Syren's tan face, framed by almost invisible black hair upon the background, appears. "9." There are no comments from the room this time. A nine is a normal, respectable score for a Career. I wonder how the District 4 mentors are reacting right now. Is their winner from the past year, Annie Cresta, laughing and cheering on her successor?

"Cabel Atom." A pang hits my heart as the small redheaded boy's picture appears. No one that young should ever be put in this situation. For a moment, I don't feel any self pity - I feel sorry for Cabel instead. "3." Typically, the scores go no lower than 3s. If you receive a 2 or a 1, you are considered to be completely useless. Your death may not even make a full sentence in the records.

"Scarlett Wires." The girl that I so admire for her resourcefulness and quick mind appears. "7." I smile slightly. A 7 is an exciting score for a non-Career district, or an 'outlying district,' as the districts beyond four are often nicknamed.

"Ryder Wheel." Ryder appears, his long black hair drawn neatly into a low poneytail as normal. "5." I'm not surprised, though a look at Blight's face states that he is. As far as I can see, Ryder has always been in the middle of the tributes, a bit lower than average, maybe.

"Jet Rails." Jet and her stubborn expression appear. "6." This doesn't surprise me either. The Gamemakers wouldn't see her real worth - her determination. They'll see it tomorrow night at the interviews, though, as will the rest of Panem. Her mentor would have to be mad not to feature it in her preparations. Well, I reflect grimly, he may very well be mad.

"Raven Carpenter." My breath catches and I glance towards Raven, missing the moment that his face appears behind Lavinia and Cinna. I can't breathe or look away from his face until Lavinia trills, "6."

"Ooooh!" Garnish gasps. "Ooooh! Raven, Raven Raven!" her voice escalates to a high squeal. "You did it! You placed in the upper percentile!" The prep teams chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

Raven shakes off the praise. "I'm still in the middle," he tells her, but his expression is pleased.

"Sixes are nothing to ignore," Tigris purrs. Raven's eyes dilate slightly as my stylist speaks to him, but his posture remains normal. "the Gamemakers can't measure every aspect of a tribute during the private sessions. Intuition is important too, my boy, and you have a very high one at that."

"Thanks," Raven whispers, breathless with pride.

Blight simply reaches over to clasp Raven's knee. "Good job." And I know that he means, you did the best you could do, and there's nothing more to ask for.

"Hush, hush!" Garnish shrieks. "They're about to announce your scores, Fawn!" Now that the moment has come, I don't want Cinna to say the score. I watch as his eyes scan the paper. I am of special importance to him. I have to die, or he'll be stuck in this job for the remainder of my life. His voice is just as jolly and suspenseful, however, as he announces what really must hurt him inside, "10."

I can feel my eyes dilate just like Raven's did moments before. The world reverses time, and I am watching Cinna say the number again. I'm watching his lips forming the word when Garnish's shriek disrupts my dream. "Ten!" she shrieks. "Ten! Fawn, you're tied for the highest score!" The prep teams are nearly wetting themselves with excitement, though I notice that Portia's cheers are halfhearted. I need to talk with her, I think, and Cinna, too. Tomorrow, before I go into the arena.

Blight beams at me. "Great job," he says. I reflect that he hasn't had a tribute with as good of odds as me in a long while. Is he hoping to bring home a victor instead of two caskets? I'm sure Blight didn't mean anything by it, but I can see Raven deflate at the words out of the corner of my eye.

Tigris says nothing to me. She merely winks. With a slight swing of he tail, she disappears. I assume that she only planned to stay long enough to see my score. She's been absent practically since the parade, working on my gown for the Interviews. Portia disappears with her. Raven glances at me and offers a tentative smile - the first given since I became a Career. I beam in response, relieved to know the score and excited that it was such a good one.

We nearly miss Thread Coil's score - I catch a glimpse of his 5 as it fades away. Just like always, he is in the middle of the tributes, and right beside his ally, Ryder Wheel. "Cotton Finch." Cinna announces. "2." My heart aches for the soft faced girl, but what did I really expect? There can only be one I really think that Cotton had any chance?

"Barley Harvester." the young face appears, and Lavinia announces, "3." My heart aches, loosing all of its selfish pride for its own success. These two will most certainly be dead in two days. I probably in a week. What did a number matter, really? I push it away, trying to remember the feeling of triumph, but not finding it.

"Rye Brown. 8." Rye is a serious contender. I realized that from the first moment I saw her face, and I still believe it. It isn't hard to image her face looming above mine as she raises a scythe to kill me. The score is apropriate.

"Grant Farmer." Like Rye, I believed from the beginning that Grant had a chance of winning. With his thick build, it is obvious of his strength. The Gamemakers must have seen it, too, because Lavinia announces, "7."

"Angela Herder." Angela's red face, framed by white-blond hair, appears. "4." I am surprised. She must have learned something during the free training time.

"October Harvest." I amuse myself by imagining the 11th floor as October's name is announced. A ridiculously dressed escort is literally biting her nails. Seeder and Chaff, October and Maze's mentors, study Lavinia's face. Maze shoots a sideways, nervous glance at her district partner, and October leans forward slightly in his seat. His face holds a slightly quizzical expression as he considers his odds and waits. "9." A moment of shocked silence passes and then they are jumping up, shrieking, and October allows himself a wide smile - one that reaches his eyes.

"Maze Fields." I hold my breath as Maze's pleated hair appears before me, on the seventh floor. Her face is unsmiling - so different from the way I am accustomed to seeing it. Maze proved her worth during the exercises, despite the fact that she is from the second poorest district; despite the fact that she wasn't good enough to receive a Career invite as October was. "8." On the 11th floor, the District 11 team is surely cheering. Maze is blushing, pushing away their compliments but allowing a small bit of hope to burn in her. I smile. Two of my allies placed nearly as high as me, and Raven managed in the middle.

"Cole Miner." Cole's hard face appears. "4." After the high scores of District 11, it is saddening to be reminded of the certain death awaiting the two District 12 tributes. In my mind, the District 11 team's faces harden once more.

"And finally," Cinna announces, "Hestia Flamel. 4."

Before I have time to reflect much on this, Blight has turned the screen off and is studying Raven and I. I feel the atmosphere shift immediately, and sit a little straighter. "You both did a good job with training," Blight tells us with a slight smile. "I want you to remember everything you've learned, because you'll need it. Right now, though, the focus needs to be on the Interviews tomorrow. Tomorrow will focus on presentation. Clio and Tigris have designed your outfits, and will spend tonight and tomorrow morning prepping them. The prep teams will spend time prepping you. They will give you an appearance, and Garnish will teach you how to sell it."

There's one person he hasn't mentioned in this plan. "What about you?" I ask, raising a single eyebrow.

Blight smiles slightly. "I will teach you to make you memorable." He lets that sink in. "For now, we need to decide on your strategies - your angles, I mean to say. How are we to present each of you?" He is not speaking to Raven and I anymore. He addresses the team, specifically Clio. I wish suddenly that Tigris hadn't rushed off. I want her here for this - I want her support.

"I think that Raven could pass for likeable," Clio suggests. Then, realizing the harshness of her words, she quickly says, "Not that you're not likeable, Raven. Of course, you're one of the most likable tribute I have been a stylist for. I just meant that the audience would think you likeable if we tried to make them. You know how different they are from you ..." She trails off, knowing that it is too late to correct her mistake.

Blight ignores the attempts, his chin jutting out slightly as he considers the suggestion. Raven glances at me, uncomfortable, and I shoot him an encouraging smile. I will soon be the focus of their stares. "Yes, I think likable will do for you, Raven. We will have to try it out tomorrow."

Clio sends me a smile. "You, however, are an easy one. Blight has already introduced the idea of your double alliance to the media. Ceaser is bound to ask you about it. All you have to do is be mysterious about it, so that the audience will be intrigued and eager to watch how you deal with it."

"Should I be mysterious on all other topics, too?" I ask. In my experience of watching the Interviews, the tributes that played mysterious rarely got sponsors because the audience learns so little about them. The Capitol likes tributes that they can relate to - tributes they can cheer for. Intriguing double alliance or not, I need allies and if they know nothing about me, I am unlikely to receive them.

"No," Blight says quickly, likely following my train of thought. "I want you to be understandable, someone a person could go to for comfort and advice on hard topics. This double alliance thing has put you in a difficult position, I want you to say. But don't show any more affection for Raven, October, and Maze than you do for the Careers. In fact, it's probably best that you don't weigh the options in front of Ceaser at all." I nod, trying to remember all of this.

Blight studies me, and then Raven. "Go to bed," he finally says. "Try to sleep well. You won't be able to tomorrow night."

~~BTCS~~

It proves that I am unable to sleep tonight, as well. I sit before the screen for a long while, listening to the commentators contemplating the odds of the tributes once more. I see more lavender than I can bear, and think longingly of District 7, where such an unnatural color is never found.

A sharp knock comes from the door. I start, sitting up quickly, and glance towards the door. Is it Blight again, come to discuss tomorrow's events, despite his advice to get some sleep? I move to the door and open it without hesitation, an eyebrow raised slightly.

Raven stands in the hall hesitantly. "Um, hello," he tells me.

"Hi," I respond, surprised. What does Raven want with me? I'd assumed that he'd dutifully went to sleep, as Blight had instructed.

"Can I come in?" Raven asks, motioning towards the room.

I blink, scolding myself internally. "Oh, yeah. Of course." I step aside to allow Raven entrance to the room. He walks in slowly, looking around. I close the door softly behind him, praying that Blight or Garnish will not come to tell us to go to bed. "Sit," I tell him, and he sits on the sofa placed before the screen I was watching moments before. It is still on, and I quickly tell the room, "Turn it off." The screen fades to black immediately.

I sit down beside Raven, looking at my district partner out of the corner of my eye. I wait for him to speak, running my hand up and down the smooth couch as I wait. Raven sits perfectly still, staring at the space that had been occupied by lavender-colored people moments before.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "For disturbing you, I mean. I just – I needed to ask you a question." He hesitates another long moment, and I glance at him. "I wanted to know… how do you do it?"

My hand stops stroking the couch. I fall still and look away from him, thoughts whirling like wind on the roof. "What do you mean?"

Raven hesitates, appearing torn. I resist the urge to reach out and touch his arm – to comfort him, when I see he is conflicted. "How are you so … perfect at everything you do?"

"Perfect?" I shake my head. "No one is perfect, Raven." It is one of the things we learn first in our short, sparse education that we receive in District 7.

"I know," he says, shaking his head. "but … everything that you tried in Training, you were great at. It's no wonder the Careers sought you out – you're amazing, Fawn. Just as near perfect in everything that you try you could be. What I don't understand," he throws his hands up. "is how you do it."

I stop to consider his words. I have always, naturally picked up on things quickly. My mother always said that I was the earliest walker and talker that she had ever seen. "That's not completely true," I tell him. "I wasn't any good at fishing or hammock making. I wasn't any good at wrestling or hand-to-hand combat, either."

"That's not true," he said. "you may not have been the best at them, but you learned to manage so quickly." He shakes his head again. "That's what they're looking for, you know. They don't want a flawed victor. They want ones that they can relate to – perfect ones that make them feel proud of Panem. The Gamemakers want you to win."

I catch my breath, glancing around the room quickly. "Raven!" what he just said was near treason. The Hunger Games are supposed to be completely based on survival odds. Saying that the Gamemakers had favorites is a shocking proposal that may very well end in his death by Capitol trap in the arena. "Raven, hush! There are cameras everywhere! What if someone heard…?"

Raven appears unafraid at this. "I'm as good as dead now, Fawn. You know that. I'm not Career material. I'm not a favorite of the Gamemakers" I let out a hiss to quiet him at this, "or of the Capitol citizens. I won't be receiving any gifts. No one will want to sponsor me."

My heart sinks again. This time, I do reach out and put my hand on his arm. "Raven, you can't give up on yourself like that. Anyone can win the Games! Who's to say that it won't be you with the victor crown?"

Raven looks up at me, and I think I see pity in his eyes. "You've forgotten where we are, Fawn. You've forgotten that I will be dead in two days, as well as the other tributes like me. Barley and Cabel are young – do you really think that they will be able to escape from you and the Careers?" I flinch as a vision of Cabel bleeding in the grass, crying as he dies, comes to me. I am standing over him, knife raised, ready to strike… The likelihood that this will be reality in two days is only too likely.

Raven is right. I have forced myself to forget too much. I may only have today and tomorrow to live. River's face, his sparkling green eyes, floats before me, in the screen where the reporters appear. My chest feels hollow. How unfair it is – that he can see me every waking moment, and I will never see him again. I wish for one last moment with him – one last moment to convince him to forget me once I've gone, to find another girl. The thought of him old and lonely is almost as painful as the thought of losing him.

The Mist Troop convinced me to try to win, in my goodbyes. They gave me a wonderful vision of returning home wealthy, living with River, and really having a house filled with green-eyed children. I don't think that I am ready to give up that dream yet, but I can now see the flaws in it. Web warned me: families of victors are made examples. Whether I win or die, River may not live to be part of that family. My sisters may be harmed, or my poor mother. If my children are born, they will be in jeopardy of being Reaped. How the Capitol would love that – torturing my children to remind me who is in charge.

I have been living in that fantasy of winning for too long. I need to wake up, so that I will die in myself, and not some dream that I have deluded myself into believing is real. I turn back to Raven. "I … thank you. You're right. I did forget. I tried so hard to… leave this place, to make it somewhere – anywhere else. I succeeded. Thank you so much. I would have died like that, if you hadn't woke me up."

Raven nods in response, and I lower my head again, thinking. Aria and Creta's faces float in my mind's eye, laughing, calling my Sparrow, begging me to sing. A smile touches my face. They are watching reporters now, recaps of the Training Sessions, and past Games highlights. I remember the screen in Redwood's square. One panel is dedicated to the female tribute of the year – me. The next is devoted to the male tribute – Raven. And the third shows a variety of things. During the pre-Game, it shows past Games, highlights of other tributes, and commentators speculating odds. The sound for each is projected in different parts of the square, so that if you want to hear what is being say, you have to move to a certain part of the square.

My family probably doesn't leave the square but to eat and sleep. In the past years, some family members have fallen asleep in the square. Friends of the family have sympathetically carried them to their beds. River may be one of those. His brother Tyrone, is probably the one carrying him home. Lily gives him food, forcing him to eat. The child in her stomach grows each and every day. By the end of the Games, they will have lost me, and gained a child. Maybe, I think, if she is a female, they will name her Fawn. I find this thought comforting.

Does the troop keep watch over the screen? Do they monitor my progress, cheering me on from my far away home? "I miss them," I realize aloud. "I miss them so much."

Raven nods in agreement. "I know. I miss them, too." I don't know any of his friends and family, and he doesn't know any of mine, but we both feel compassion for each other's losses. Raven asks timidly, as though afraid he is overstepping a boundary, "Have you written your letters yet?"

"Letters?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"Yeah, the letter we are allowed to write to our friends and family. The Capitol delivers them with our bodies, in case we …" He gulps, paling slightly. He continues quickly, "We are encouraged to write them. I'm surprised that you haven't heard of them."

I shake my head. "I haven't." I pause, thinking of what I would write to my friends and family. I think of what comfort I would be able to give them. "I think I'll take advantage and write some, though. Are there any limits to how many we can write?"

"Not that I know of." Raven answers. I nod, not knowing how to respond. I have one more try to convince River to love someone else. I have this one chance to make him understand me, thanks to Raven.

I turn and embrace my district partner. He stiffens, surprised. "Thank you," I tell him. "You've comforted me greatly." He softens, wrapping his arms around me, too. I can tell that he is gratified by my words, but I haven't taken away his worry for his own life. "I'll help you, in the arena," I tell him. "We're allies. It's my job. I won't let you die."

I know that he doubts my words, but he doesn't voice these doubts. His arms tighten around me, and I think that I feel the wetness of tears rolling down my back.

~~~BTCS~~~

"Sit taller!" Garnish snaps. Biting back a sigh, I do as Garnish instructs and glance at Raven. There is laughter in my ally's gaze. It would appear that we have found something that I am truly horrible at.

"Smile!" Garnish instructs. I glance back at Garnish and shoot her the most horrible smile I know. I blame the prep team for my bad mood. They woke me up at three o'clock, a full two hours after I managed to fall asleep. They continued their painful tricks to make me beautiful to the Capitol, laughing and chattering about how wonderful the Game are as they did so.

I tried to bite my tongue like I had before the parade. It is harder to, though, now that I am not pretending that the Games are what they aren't. It is hard not to feel contempt for those that don't understand, like these two. I was doing well at tuning them out until Cinna found my letters.

"Oh, you have a sweetheart back home!" Cinna laughed. "River Arbre is his name," he informed eager Portia, while scanning the page. "How sweet! Listen to this, Portia! 'I miss you so much, sweet, but you can't miss me. I know you refused the last time we spoke, but you must find someone else. The thought of you alone is more than I can bear.'"

Anger boiled in me, and I splashed out of the bath angrily. Snatching up the papers from Cinna, I cried, "Don't you dare tell anyone about that, do you hear me? Don't you dare talk about it on your silly show! You have no idea what I'm losing for your entertainment!" My voice dropped to a deadly octave. "I know you are waiting for me to die – both of you. I know what my death means to you and your employment."

Cinna's eyes grew wider, but he didn't contradict my words.

"I may very well be dead tomorrow," I told him. "and you may very well be a stylist next year. But at least respect me and my life while I am alive."

Cinna appears hurt. "Of course I respect you. Protia does, too. Our promotion complicates the situation, that is all. We would be thrilled if you won." Portia makes noises of agreement, but I can detect the note in their voices that speaks other stories.

"Going through my personal belongings and reading them out loud is disrespecting me and my life." I wave the papers for effect, and fall silent. Tigris entered the room, attracted surely by the sudden noise. She took one look at my expression and the papers in my wet fist, and dismissed Cinna and Portia. She finished the rest of my prepping herself.

Now I am sitting in a long stiff gown, sitting perfectly straight and with a dazzling smile. Blight asks me a number of questions and I am to answer them. Blight critiques my words. Garnish complains of my facial expressions as I say the words, my posture, and where I choose to insert smiles. She also complains that I, as well as Raven, use our hands too much as we speak. It is something that I have noticed to be different between the Capitol and District 7. In District 7, we are very expressive with our hands, and in the Capitol, hands are preferred to be held stiffly at the sides during conversation.

"So, Fawn, is there any special boy back home?" Blight asks.

I smile slightly. "No, Ceaser, there is not."

"That's a lie." Cinna has been sitting in the corner silently, barely looking at me, for the entire session. Everyone looks at him in surprise as he speaks. "She does have a boy – River Arbre. I think they were courting when she was Reaped."

The eyes turn to me instead of Cinna, and my face turns bright red with anger and embarrassment. "Cinna! I told you not to tell!" I start to get up, my hands clenched in fists, but Raven quickly restrains me in the chair.

"You can't fight!" he whispers quickly to me. "No one can fight tributes, and tributes can't fight anyone! It's in the rules!" I relax slightly, so that he lets go of me, but my fists remain curled into fists.

Cinna glances at me, looking ashamed. "I shouldn't have read the letter," he tells me. "Tigris explained it to me. I understand now."

"Then why would you –" I start, but Cinna interrupts me.

"What I don't understand, though, is why you would risk not making the best impression you could." He pauses, and I don't speak. "Fawn, we want to know about you. We want to be able to understand you. The more we know about you, the less we'll want you to die. You'll get more sponsors. Why won't you tell us about River?"

The room is dead silent. I know why: I don't want the Capitol to know he exists. I don't want to risk him being made an example. I even have planned to enclose River's letter in my mother's, in an effort to conceal his existence even more. But I can't say that now, not when there are so many ears, and the cameras are watching. "I want him to forget me," I say quietly. "You read the letter, Cinna. I want him to move on. The Capitol won't let him, not if they knew we were courting."

It appears that I have said the right thing. Blight is nodding thoughtfully, and Garnish has her lips pressed tightly together. The morning's events appear to have been too much for Portia, who bursts into tears and hurries off. Tigris gives me a funny look, like she is amused, and walks from the room after Portia. What did she say to Cinna? I think, what made him understand?

"Posture!" snaps Garnish. I have been slouching as I thought. I sit quickly, and shoot her a dazzling smile. Blight asks the question, and I respond, "My best weapon is knives, but I don't limit myself to them. I am a Career, after all!" I laugh, and Garnish mutters something indistinct. "Well, sort of, anyway."

~~~~BTCS~~~~

Tigris works silently beside me. I watch her carefully out of the corner of my eye. I am still not accustomed to the way she has re-designed herself. If I let my attention waver for an instant, I can believe that she is a Capitol mutt about to tear me to pieces. I think that something about her has changed since I first met her – like she has made herself more feline-like.

When I think of how it would feel to lose Creta or Aria, I cannot blame Tigris for her actions. To lose a child and a spouse and be left with nothing but one's job would be more than most could bear. Many would resort to suicide. Tigris has demonstrated her strength in a strange way. Many aren't able to see it – I was not, not at first. I think I understand now.

Tigris smiles as she works. I wonder if she loses thoughts of Moira and her husband as she works, as I lose all worries as I throw knives. Jealousy rises suddenly in me. I wish that I had a way to lose myself that was not so violent – that didn't risk lives.

"I am almost done," Tigris purrs, bringing me from my trance. I again attempt to look at what she is making, but she blocks my view again. She presses a button and Cinna and Portia enter moments later. They both avoid looking at me, as though still ashamed of Cinna's earlier actions. Nervousness for the Interviews has taken away all of my anger towards them, and I am gladdened that they are humbler, now.

The entrance of Cinna and Portia signals that the Interviews are to begin soon. I fight the squirming feeling in my chest as they move me to the mirror, making slight adjustments to my eyebrows and nails as they do. They instruct me to close my eyes as they slip the dress over my head. The inside is smooth and comfortable, just like the inside of all of Tigris's outfits. The shoes are placed on my feet. I stand on them, still slightly unsteady. I am not good at navigating heels. Two heavy objects are hung from my ears, which Tigris put holes into this morning. A chord is attached around my neck, and something small and delicate is placed on my head.

They make more adjustments. A hand takes a warm iron to my hair, making it curl once more. Another smears something onto my face and arms. I can feel that the sleeves cut off just above my elbow, and move easier than the gown I wore earlier. I realize that Tigris was making adjustments for my comfort.

The hands stop momentarily, and I can feel their eyes on me, assessing me. It makes me uneasy, and I am tempted to open my eyes just to see how they are looking at me. But I don't have the chance, because Tigris says, "Fawn, you can look now."

I open my eyes, eager. The sight in the mirror before me makes me stumble back. Portia catches my arm, saving me from a fall. I can't tear my gaze from the mirror to thank her.

I am in the dark blue color that Garnish said looked good on me. It is the color that Portia told me she would request for my Interview gown. Apparently, Tigris has granted this wish. The color fades to a black around the edges. It reaches the floor, and the gown itself is very plain, which suits me well. The heels give me extra height, which is attractive for me. My eyes are done with dark liner and my face has been colored darker than it normally is.

The skirt reminds me a little of Riccy's dress. It is just as long, and has an excess of cloth. This skirt isn't gathered at the bottom, though. It falls sleek and shiny, like water, to my feet.

The amazing part of the gown, however, is something completely different. It is a necklace that I think I recognize immediately, but I think again when I see that it is made of metal. It is the same simple design of the necklace that Jessica made me – the necklace that is my token. However, it is made of metal, and the edges are still sharp and unrounded.

A small tiara rests on my head. It is simply designed as well, with the star-moon design from my necklace also on it. My hair around it appears darker than normal, like my skin. It is done in messy, large curls that stand out against the delicate tiara.

I stand up slightly taller, moving away from the support of Portia's arm, and the light that is reflected by the necklace and tiara is dazzling. I move my arm slowly, to touch the necklace, and see that my arm is bathed in sparkling and shining oil, so that I look as though covered in stardust.

Stardust. I glance back at the outfit – the black fading to royal blue, the darkness of my features. "I am the starry sky," I realize aloud.

"Blight showed me your token," Over my shoulder, Tigris is nodding. "It immediately struck me as beautiful, but simple. I knew that I wanted to use it for your Interview outfit."

Portia nods, beaming. All tension is forgotten as she gazes at the amazing outfit she helped make. Everyone in Panem will see it tonight. It must be gratifying to her. "She got rid of the outfit she had intended using. It was a forest green, and shorter. It would have been lovely, too, of course."

Tears are welling in my eyes. They don't understand the importance of the sky to people from District 7. I am a star. My hands travel to the tiara, so delicate and beautiful. There are two tales to explain where we go when we die. Some say that we become trees, and provide our offspring with a livelihood. Others say we go to the heavens, to watch over our people. I know that my mother believes the tale saying we become trees to be accurate, but I have always believed that I will rest in the heavens.

I am a star.

I am dead.

~~~~~BTCS~~~~~

So, this chapter was entitled Waking Up for two reasons. Fawn woke up from the dream she had put herself in, and Cinna woke up from the dream he had led his whole life. It's not all about Fawn, guys! Haha, Cinna … we are almost to a very "fun" time for him.

I chose not to elaborate much on the actual pre-Interviews. They were never much interesting to me, and you know what happens then, anyway. I had nothing to change from Katniss's account. So, instead, I thought the scene where Cinna speaks out again even after Fawn told him off would be important for character building. If you hadn't known who Cinna was, it would really have set him apart from Fawn's original description of prep teams. Cinna is special. 3

Please review! I love Estoma and all, but I need more feedback than hers!