Made it to chapter ten! BAM! Haha-and on the same day as chapter nine, too...proudly puffs out chest. Yeah, I know I'm awesome. You can say it-I'll accept your compliments if they come with reviews! Haha. You're only allowed to tell me what sucks if you also compliment me...wait, I don't think that's how it works...
So, now that you've been privy to my odd internal dialogues, yet again, quick note: this chapter's a little short...and a bit insubstantial, if you know what I mean. It's mostly a transition, because I didn't want to roll straight into the parade. After all, detailing the outfits is so much fun! Haha...and of course, Tobi's dark mood is persisting. Hopefully she'll snap out of it a little when she sees Cato at the parade. Fingers crossed...
Anyway, on to the tenth chap-I-versity of the story! (I don't think I've ever made it ten chapters in before...)
The elevator ride down to the studio is long and silent. Oscar throws me fearful glances from where he stands with Blye. I want to offer him a reassuring smile—something to mute my cruel words moments before. I want to tell him it's all okay, he's going to be fine, I'm fine…everything's fine. But I don't—I can't. No smiles, no comfort. Because when we hit that arena, I'm not his friend, anymore. I'm his enemy—and I'm going to kill him. No point in telling myself some other tribute will do it for me.
Flux is waiting for me outside the elevator when I step out. The black markings across his head have been changed to dark purple, and his eyes are a vibrant green today, giving his pale skin an odd glow. He smiles at me, and for a moment my resolve falters. I pause mid-step, unable to return the smile.
There's a heaviness as Finnick lays a hand on my shoulder, and I look up to see that he's not smiling, either. There's a softness in his gaze, akin to understanding. He must have caught something in my face—my thoughts have probably been flickering across my features since we left the room. No wonder Blye was shooting me looks alternating between sympathy and disgust.
"It's okay, Tobi," Finnick murmurs. "I remember what it's like." He leans closer, so Oscar doesn't hear him. "You do what you have to do." I blink. He's giving me permission. At first, it sweeps over me like a warm wave. He knows—he gets it. It's me or them, and I have to live…right? But then the wave is gone, and the pit of my stomach swirls with something between physical pain and intense despondence. Don't tell me it's okay, I think desperately as Flux gently takes my hand, leads me away. Tell me it's terrible, that I'm a bad person…help me reign this in! I want to cry, but I already decided not to indulge in any of that. It's a weakness I can't afford. Just perform…
"Well, my dear," Flux begins once we're in his bizarre, grey and red studio. I take a seat on one of the red cushioned chairs, spine straight and face carefully blank, lest any more of my internal dialogue should leak out across it. "Are you ready to see your dress?" He asks, subdued excitement the same as ever. I'm grateful; he represents a constancy that is sorely lacking in y world. I watch him take a seat on the couch across from me, notice how carefully he seems to sculpt his expressions, and suddenly I wonder how many tributes he's sent off to the battlefield to die. How many children has he smiled at, pretending they'll make it out, just to watch them slaughtered? And there it is again: performing. I know that's what he's doing—it's the only way to survive his job, I suppose. Yet even as I watch his face, catch the small flickers of ominous doubt, I allow myself to believe the act. That he really believes in me, in the possibility that I might survive. And when I next meet his gaze, nod to see the dress, I can almost see hope in his eyes.
"Do your worst," I tell him tiredly. He grins, disappears briefly behind one of the opaque, red screens in the far corner. When he comes back, the dress is folded over his arm. He moves to shake it out, then pauses, seems to rethink, regards me thoughtfully for a moment. He nods to himself once before clapping his hands sharply, twice.
Percei and Nitya appear instantly, glide out from the door to the right, followed by Rendwick, who appears unexpectedly flustered. Flux simply looks at them, holds out the fabric, still draped over his forearm. His face has changed, become utterly serious, absorbed. I admire his professionalism. He must love his work a great deal, to accept so many losses.
"Go." He commands. The assistants jump into action. Percei pulls me to my feet, leads me over to the make-up station opposite of the screen, where she and Nitya begin pulling and fiddling with my hair, while Rendwick begins slathering, brushing and dabbing y skin with all manner of concoctions.
"Now, close your eyes, Kuria," Percei commands. Then, a few moments later, "okay, now stand up…no, no, keep your eyes closed. Just, be a doll, Kuria. A doll—relax, let us move you…"
I close my eyes, allow my mind to take me a million miles away. I'm floating, gliding through the ocean…
"…Flux?" I ask, still adrift on the great, stormy ocean in my head.
"Hm?" his voice is somewhere to my left, preoccupied; he must be overseeing his assistant's work.
"How do you do it?" my voice sounds thin, a little more depressed than I intended.
"What, dear? Oh, Percei, that's lovely. Nitya, a bit darker, don't you think?" I think for a moment. How to phrase this without coming across uncaring…or worse: afraid, lost.
"How do you work with us, year after year…talk with us, groom us, get to know us…and then watch us go out to die? How can you stand it?" My voice has dropped to a tired musing. I'm genuinely curios. There's a long pause for a moment, and I can sense Flux thinking.
"Rendwick, a bit more blue…" Is he going to ignore the question?
"Flux—"
"I'm holding out," he says finally. I feel the assistants' administrations freeze for a fraction of an instant. This must be a taboo topic amongst them.
"For what?"
"I'm not actually sure. An end, I suppose. An out…something has to change eventually, right?" I don't answer…I'm not sure about change. I haven't even decided if it's good or bad, yet-let alone a genuine possibility. "Besides," he continues, "the more of you I can help, the better. I have to do what I can so that some of you make it out." His voice strikes an odd chord. I suppose it's as good an explanation as any. Flux is doing what he can. I wonder which is worse: going out to die, or watching people you care about fight to their deaths, unable to do anything more than dress them up.
"Alright, this way." One of them—probably Percei—pulls me forward.
"Okay, you can open your eyes, Tobi," Flux says from somewhere right behind me. Reluctant to leave my ocean void, I peel my eyes open slowly.
For a moment, I can't say anything, merely stare at the girl in the mirror. If she can even be called that. She looks…inhuman; supernatural. The dress is silver, dark like steel. It hugs my skin, stops midway down my thigh and shimmers in the light. I look to one of the angled mirrors; the back dips low, made of sheer until just above my tail bone, where the steely fabric falls to a sweeping train that bleeds back to sheer along the ground. My skin is tinged with the same silver-gray, but not heavily, with just a touch of blue. My eyes are rimmed with thick black, grey irises popping. My hair has been darkened to mercury at the front, slicked back from my face before it falls over my shoulder, contained in a straight, low ponytail. The white-blond strands are stark against the darkness of the dress. I look wild. Fierce. Like a killer.
"I love it," I breathe at last. Flux grins.
"I knew you would! You look like a shark." I turn from the mirror, meet his gaze, eyes steely. My tumultuous insides have calmed; my resolve is hardened. I can accept this image of myself.
"I feel like a shark."
Feeling like a shark...not a bad way to go into the Hunger Games, really. Unless you feel like a nurse shark, and then you're a little fried. Or a baskng shark...according to Safarilover1 they don't even have teeth!
Also, I am aware that there will have to be some catalyst for the story's development, probably starting in this next chapter. What better catalyst than a romance? But the way I see it, there are three options for Tobi's romantic life, so I've decided to put up a poll! Yay! Be warned: I will try not to post the next chapter of this until I get some feedback on this poll, just to save myself from having to backtrack later. (Unless, of course, no one responds...in which case, I will be very sad for a while, then think "well, fine then; I'll bake it myself!" and just make my own decisions. And if people don't like 'em, too bad-I gave y'all a chance! Haha-anyway, please review!
POLL:
a.) TobixCato (as originally planned)
b.) TobixFinnick
c.)Both! (as in, Tobi has yet another emotional conflict...)
Let me know what you think!