ORIGINAL GOING-TO-BE A.N. WHEN I WAS FIRST WRITING THIS CHAPTER: Yay! Chariot time! :D
NOW: I have a slight desire to just repost the same author's note I put on the last chapter. I'm extremely annoyed with myself. You guys all deserve an explanation for my comings and goings… There really is no excuse. I had decided I had given up, in all honesty, about a month ago because I really wasn't getting anywhere. I had run dry on this one and decided to start another SYOT story to get my juices flowing again, and it worked for a period of time. I've only done two real chapters in it before I got kind of…lax. But it wouldn't sit on my conscious to let this story go, so I just recently (as in today – March 9th – date for reference 'cause I have no idea when I will have this chapter done, but this is the date I started continuing it) got inspiration to continue it. So my thoughts are that I'm going to be going back and forth between this story and my SYOT story The Tempest and Oasis as my inspiration flows, so there will be no guarantee when I update next or if I even finish writing this chapter. So if anyone is still following this story, I really apologize and hope that for all of us I can continue this story successfully and with as few pauses as possible.
Wow, that author's note might have been even longer than the last one. :/
Anyway, I'm going to get out of my semi-depressed mood and get on with it!
(DISCLAIMER: The Hunger Games is in the fortunate hands of Suzanne Collins, and, unfortunately, that is not my name.)
Chapter 8 - Opening Ceremonies
-Seattle Beck, District 3-
"This shouldn't…"
"…pinch a bit!"
I swear under my breath as Ippa and Lavern rip away the wax above my eyes, peeling off my eyebrows and skin while they both smile at me with the same dimples and bejeweled blue eyes. They giggle and apply more wax as Firee, the third triplet, continues to file my fingernails vigorously. It wouldn't surprise me if she'd already drawn blood but was too hasty to notice.
Ippa, Lavern, and Firee poke, prod, wax, soak, scrub, pull, and practically sand me down until my skin is shiny and flawless. For some reason, their flailing pale lavender limbs remind me of that sea creature…what is it… the octopus. My dad works for a factory and they recently created a machine based off of one. A multitude of arms attached to a large head, all working under the influence of one brain. The only difference is that I'm pretty sure octopuses don't chatter constantly about hair and lipstick shades.
I'm relieved when Ippa, Lavern, and Firee finally announce simultaneously, "You're done!" in extremely high-pitched, squeaky voices. Excitedly, they drag me over to the full-length mirror to show me what a great job they did.
I will admit that, yes, my skin is smoother, but it is definitely not worth the sting. My light red hair is shining, my teeth bleached, and I'm wearing makeup — never thought I'd say that. Silver lipstick, a gray powder that covers all of my skin, and silver glitter sprinkled everywhere.
I look absolutely hideous.
-Shaleep Scarlo, District 11-
My stylist walks in as I'm surveying myself in the mirror, and my prep team — Rain, Nick, and Allishia — is ushered out.
She doesn't approach me, just stands by the door as I marvel at the dark purple flowery design that trails down from the corners of my eyes to my cheeks. Nick did an amazing job with them. The deep green eye shadow and lips tinted purple are just noticeable against my dark skin. Rain had taken my hair out of its usual long cornrows, and now it was left down and waving to the middle of my back.
"I'm Raven."
The quiet voice startles me, and I turn on my heel to see my stylist for the first time. She looks unusually normal. Long, straight black hair, tanned skin, and stormy blue eyes. Some makeup is apparent, but only barely. Only her clothes really giver her away as being from the Capitol.
"I'm Shaleep," I reply.
Raven smiles. "Here, why don't you put this on?" She hands me a robe the same shade as the pattern on my face. As I put it on, she walks over to a panel on the wall and presses some quick buttons. Within a minute, food is sent up and comes out of the wall on a tray. "Go sit," Raven says, not unkindly, and carries the tray over to a low table set in between two couches.
She sits on the couch across from me and tells me to eat, asking questions every so often. I answer with some nods and one-word answers, most of my attention focused on the food. It's not until she asks about my family that I really take any notice of what she's saying.
My arm stops halfway to my mouth, and I swallow. Silently, I place the partially eaten roll back down on the plate and stare down at my hands in my lap. "They're fine," I hear myself say.
Raven stays silent, and I glance up at her. She's looking at me thoughtfully as if waiting for me to elaborate. "I hope they're fine, I mean."
Her mouth twitches. "Do you have any siblings, Shaleep?"
I nod. "I have an older sister, Tomika. She's nineteen now. And I have a sixteen-year-old brother, Danir. I had a twin sister." I sneak in the past tense hoping Raven won't catch it.
"I'm so sorry. What was her name?" Her tone is sincere, but I have a feeling she already knows all about my family. I think she just wants to hear it from me.
"Reyo."
Raven moves on, sensing my discomfort, but my mind stays on Reyo and guilt seeps through me. I can hear my mom telling me that it's not my fault, but to this day I can't help but feel it was because of me. The food was mine initially, but I let her have it instead. How could you have known it would give her food poisoning? Mom had tried to comfort me. But I never really listened to her, and now whenever Reyo is brought up a sour taste fills my mouth, as if my subconscious conjures up a poison of its own. One that could never possibly kill me like Reyo.
Thirty minutes later, Raven has me standing in front of the mirror again, now fully dressed in my Opening Ceremonies costume, and it looks quite stunning.
I'm in a strapless, pine green dress that goes down to my ankles. A purple filmy fabric with fake leaves snaking across it covers the dress. Soft gloves that match the fabric adorn my hands, and a necklace of jewel grapes rests around my neck. Sandals, the style that every grape picker wears, are on my feet right below the hem of the dress. My hair is still down but woven through with grapes and loose leaves.
I look as though I'm one with nature.
-Charidy Junell, District 3-
Seattle and I stand side by side in our chariot, not quite sure what to do.
Our stylists had abandoned us; mine had just left me without even bothering to bring me down to the bottom level of the Remake Center – I don't think he realized he was supposed to escort me down. I had to wander through the halls until Seattle and his stylist found me. After taking us to our chariot and warning us with a chuckle, his round, blue belly bouncing, "not to fall off when the horses lead us out," he went off to talk to some other stylists from a different district.
So now we are silently waiting to be put in the spotlight. Silently waiting awkwardly, might I add. Seattle just grimaces down at the horses while I lean against the wall of the chariot. My costume makes it difficult to relax though. The metal sheeting that acts as our clothing is stiff, the insensitive edges cutting into my arms, the haphazard tubes limiting movement, and the laser contacts are just plain uncomfortable behind my glasses. Eventually I just stand stiffly upright, bouncing up and down on my toes absently, wishing this night could just be over already.
Of course, that's one day closer to the Arena.
It's a lose-lose situation.
And on top of that, I look like a cyborg. Not my first choice. Humph.
-Yawk Sky, District 5-
I've never thought much about myself. This outfit doesn't help.
Standing on the chariot, looking at all of the other tributes… I think it's a safe bet to say that my district's costume is by far the worst of all this year.
It's made up of black felt mathematical symbols and giant numbers all stitched together. About half of my skin is showing, enough to make me uncomfortable, but not enough for me to be technically naked.
Seeing my district partner, though, pretty much diminishes my own self-pity. With her sickly thinness, the outfit hardly has anything to hold onto, and I can tell she's surreptitiously clinging to keep it on her body.
I open my mouth to ask if she wants me to try to help, but close it almost immediately after. I don't want to embarrass her any more; her cheeks are already blooming red.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I glance around at the tributes again, but this time I'm combing over to see if there's any—
Aha!
Leaning on the outside of the chariot right next to this one looks a promising girl.
I jerk my head to my district partner, poor little Willow, trying to let her know I'll be right back.
I step down from the chariot and casually amble over to the fishy District 4 female tribute who seems to be intentionally staring in the opposite direction of me, unobtrusively ignoring my approach.
At my voice, she sighs and looks at me, blatantly revealing her dislike through her pursed lips. "Could I ask you something?"
"No." Period.
I lean in just a bit, not trying to make her uncomfortable — or myself — considering she's only wearing seashells as her cover with the rest of her body painted silver, mimicking a fish's scales. "I just wanted to see if you'd let me have one of your hair pins." I glance at her hair and add, "I think you have plenty."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," I say sincerely. "I was just going to give it to my partner— District partner, I mean."
She sighs heavily and pulls out one of the pins holding the seaweed strands woven through her rich, chocolate brown hair. She silently hands it to me.
I smile. "Thank you, I'm sure Willow will appreciate this."
She raises her eyebrows questioningly.
"My District partner," I clarify. "By the way, I'm Yawk Sky."
"Oh, right." She nods. "Yawk." My name rolls off of her tongue kind of funny, before she continues, "My name's Damona Ravenswood."
I nod back to her. "Well, I guess I'll see you later. Good luck." I turn to go back to the chariot, but a quick laugh makes me look back.
"None of us have enough of that." Her tone has changed to be more genuine, with only a bit of forced humor.
"What?" I ask, confused.
Damona flicks her head to get a piece of seaweed out of her face. "Luck."
I grimace. "You got that right."
With another short nod, I go and hoist myself up onto the chariot and tell Willow to turn around. Her eyebrows squinch together, but she does so anyway without a question.
I slide the pin to hold the leg of a giant nine and a four, pulling the outfit closer and tighter. I make a quick job of it and then pat Willow on the shoulder to let her know I was done.
She turns, pulling her arms down from holding onto the costume to find that it is completely secure, if only a little wrinkled in the back. She brings her arms behind her to feel what I'd done, and then drops them to her sides, smiling a tiny smile. "Thank you," she almost whispers. I have to strain to hear her, but it's not impossible to make out.
"Anytime," I reply.
Willow opens her tiny mouth to say something else, right when the Capitol's music blares as the sign for the start of the Opening Ceremonies.
Simultaneously, we face the front of the chariot. Willow's stylist, who's basically been nonexistent for the extent of our wait — my stylist disappeared earlier with the excuse of something along the lines of 'drowning his miseries' — raps the side of the chariot with her two-inch long, metallic nails, saying, "Love the audience, and they'll love you."
Well, that's about the nicest thing she's ever said to us.
Willow and I nod emphatically, partially from nerves, partially to make sure she doesn't go off on one of her little rants again. She really dislikes to be defied.
The chariot lurches forward, and I grab onto the edge as the horses begin to pull us forward behind District 4. I catch a glimpse of Damona glancing back before her chariot is covered in shadow as it pulls outside.
Our chariot follows through the giant doors of the bottom level of the Remake Center, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust from the bright lights of the building to the very dim light filtering through thick clouds overhead. Crowds of people are waving and shouting along the sides of the stream of chariots, throwing their arms out to make up for the distance they must keep so that the horses don't trod on any feet.
I think about what Willow's stylist just told us and decide, what the heck, might as well make some kind of effort for them to like me. Even if my costume is atrocious.
I reach my hand out to the crowd's hands trying to touch as many as I can, all the while beaming and waving with my other hand. I do this until the people are forced back by a thug of a Peacekeeper, though I'm not sure that that's what they would be called, here in the Capitol. Then I resort to just the smiling and waving.
About twenty minutes later, the chariots pull into the City Circle. By this time, the sky is various shades of black and gray, the clouds hovering ominously above our heads, but the throngs of people take no notice. They're too busy shouting and waving, shoved in between the buildings around the president's mansion.
I pay no mind to the president as he walks out on his balcony and makes some speech. All I do is continue smiling and waving, occasionally glancing up at the television screens to see the tributes displayed. The cameras don't hang around Willow and I for very long, but I like to think that I've made at least a little bit of an impression on the people of the Capitol. Willow doesn't seem to be doing much other than clutching the side of the chariot and trying to stay relatively calm, but my enthusiasm seems to be enough to capture a bit of attention.
We're on our second lap around the Circle when the sky finally decides to let loose. Rain pours in tumults, hard.
The people of the Capitol are taken completely aback; some even start screaming, complaining about their hair or whatever. It's actually almost amusing to see them franticly rushing to stand under an overhang or pulling coats over their heads.
A giggle from Willow pulls my attention from the Capitol people.
A quick glance around at the chariots tells me that the tributes are quite enjoying themselves. Some of the tributes had started to giggle, but now several are clutching there abdomens from being doubled over laughing. Across the Circle, I can see the girl from District 9 had her head tilted back and was just letting the water droplets fall on her face. Both tributes from District 10 are joking around, miming swimming through the downpour.
Willow is positively radiating contentment, with her eyes closed just enjoying this moment of distraction from everything that's supposed to be going on.
All too soon, the horses have pulled the chariots into the Training Center. The screens are still showing the president, now inside the manor, making whatever comments he feels inclined to say. A few cameramen had been able to follow us in considering the circumstances, so the tributes are shown for a few brief moments, but the event is basically over.
When the prep teams and stylists are allowed in, they swarm, most of them buzzing about how unfortunate the rain was and how messed up the outfits are now. I'm glad I found that pin for Willow, or there's no way the felt numbers would have stayed up with the weight of the water and her focus on ignoring everyone to just hold onto the chariot.
Her stylist finally notices the pin, and we both cringe as she goes on a tirade about how ungrateful we are to her work; Willow and I nod and apologize swiftly a few times before she calms down enough to take us up to our floor, our new temporary home.
Right before we make it to the elevator, I'm able to catch a glimpse of outside through the still-open doors. It looks like the rain is starting to let up. But who knows just how long it will take before it fully stops?
So whatcha guys think? Am I a bit rusty from being gone so long? I feel like it. But I won't really know unless you guys review and let me know!
Oh, and on a slight side note, I realize that I used the word "smile" at least a billion times. I just stopped noticing after a while, but I did try to change some of them. I think.
-Tasting Raindrops-