Happy Hunger Games Tuesday everyone!

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Chapter 4

Korra and her group were greeted almost immediately by their prep team. A small group of over excited girls that looked younger than Korra was. Their faces were strange to her painted in odd, clashing colors. One had skin spotted like a snow leopard. Korra doubted it was to honor the spirit of the hunt.

They fussed over her hair as they stripped her of her clothes. Korra shivered in nervousness. She had not even been naked in front of Asami yet. It felt strange letting these other girls touch her even if it was just for the sake of cleaning. She closed her eyes knowing better than to fight. She told herself this would be the hardest part of the games and grit her teeth.

They scrubbed every inch of her dark skin with thick streams of bubbles that smelled like lavender and lilac. She wished it was honeysuckle, the scent her mother often wore. The water they rinced her with was warm and soothing. When they sat her down Korra could almost relax as they turned their attention to her hair. They combed it through with the same rhythmic strokes her mother had used the day of the reaping.

They wouldn't let her put it up. Korra had expected that. Not even with the wolf tails on the side of her face. They let if flow over her shoulders in a cascade of chocolate. They decorated it with silver and pale blue beads that reflected the light like stars.

When Korra looked at her reflection bare in the mirror she struggled to recognize herself. None of Asami's dress up days could compare to this. Her skin was bare even in the most intimate of places. Over all of it she could not see even a single flaw. Where were her scars? They had lined her wrists and calves and back.

A warriors mark told of all the battles she had endured. She was a woman, yes, and her scars had come from brutal training that would one day lead to the games. They were a symbol of the struggle, a sign of respect. When a warrior of the water tribe went without a shirt it isn't just about the muscle. It's about the scars. A declaration that cries out 'look what I have faced, look what I fought. See what I survived.' And Korra now had nothing. No marks. No pride to call her own.

"It won't be long now." A voice Korra had not heard before pulled her away from the mirror. She had not noticed her own finger trailing down what once had been a scar on her forearm.

"Are you my designer?" Korra was embarrassed it was a he. Or at least she thought he was. He looked just as extravagant as the girls in the prep team. Fire Nation born his hair looked like fire with its varying shades of orange and red. It was very long too, down to his back, but not braided an any sort of way like a warrior should. It would have been an embarrassment if he did since he, of course, was no warrior.

"I am." He had the voice of a fire nation man. Smooth, but firm and almost on the edge of harsh. "They call me Iza here."

"Do they not call you Iza other places?"

She had meant it as a joke but when he answered "They call me Youten there," She stopped talking.

He circled her like a vulture lion with a critical eye. Korra didn't like it. The way his amber eyes lingered on certain places on her body longer than others.

"Your hair was different during the reaping." Iza observed lifting the gentle curls.

"That's how I usually wear it."

"But not this morning."

"I thought it would look better."

"You were wrong." He looked at her face now. "Down is good. Up, maybe for the arena. But both? No. It's too unbalanced. Besides, who wears tails anymore? Now we need to get you dressed."

He took Korra's hand. Korra is amazed at how smooth it is. Almost like Asami's. carefully softened with oils after her work is finished for the day.

"What are you going to put me in?" She knew the costumes reflected the districts. Her father had been cloaked in the skin of a polar bear dog. Most of the girls were put in far too revealing ant tight outfits lined with furs. The outfit she was shown was long and flowed like water. He slid her into it like a salmon into a river. The long fabric reflected liquid silver and blue. Maybe, looking like this, she was deserving of all those times Asami called her Goddess.

"It's a strategy the north should have used a long time ago." Iza said as he led her out of the room. "The moon, after all, was born from the water tribes wasn't she?"

"The hair looked different." Korra told him. She intentionally avoided the obvious part about the moon spirit not having dark skin. And with all the silver and coloring in her hair it could have looked white from a distance.

"This will have to go." Iza's finger touched the gemstone resting in the hollow of her neck. Korra took a step back.

"Do what you want to the rest of me. That stays."

"The water tribe's traditions are primitive and unnecessary. It stands out too much, marking you like a savage. Your sweetheart will have to understand."

"It matches the outfit well enough." Korra defended, "And the moon spirit was engaged while she was a mortal in the northern tribe."

Iza hmmed before finally allowing it to pass. "I'll show you to your chariot then princess."

She saw the kid from her district for the first time since getting off the boat. He looked nothing like her. Where she was elegant and regal he was feral. His face was painted in grays and blacks. He wore a furred helmet decorated and shaped like a wolf's head. It was the very same outfit a real warrior would wear before a battle. Iza had done his research.

"With the right attitude you might even look threatening to someone." She told him as she climbed on their own chariot.

"And you might even look pretty." The boy snapped back at her.

Numbered by district her chariot was fourth in line. District one headed out into the light accompanied by cheers. The four komodo rhinos that pulled it set a slow pace for the other tributes. Their costumes were like fire flickering in the gentle breeze. District one always commanded attention with blazing costumes.

District two and three passed and soon Korra found herself riding through the streets of the capitol. She smiled at their cheers and even laughed. She looked beautiful. They knew it. Not a single person called the name of the young warrior beside her.

A bolt of lightning tore through the sky. The crowd was all in screams of terror that became shouts of praise the next instant. "Mako! Mako!" She heard them cry.

Korra spared a glance behind her to the District 5 tributes. Their costumes hardly looked flattering. The two of them had been encased in what looked like a coat of steel wool. What caught the attention was the unnatural bolts of golden lightning that arced around and between them. The girl raised an arm and from her sleeve another bolt leapt into the sky.

The boy they called for held his head level. His amber eyes were only focused on the path in front of him. His hands gripped the edge of the chariot tightly. Was he uncomfortable with the energy surging around him?

Korra tried to pull the attention of the crowd back to her. With a massive effort she conjured water from the humid tropical air and threw it high into the sky. With one motion the water burst into a thousand snowflakes that fell onto the spectators. Children laughed and waved their arms. Adults began to remember her name. Korra wondered if they had ever seen snow.

All twelve chariots assembled before the tribute tower. Elder Tom Tom, ruler of the New Nation stood on the highest balcony to address the new tributes. On both sides of him monitors displayed the tributes. Mover cameras all around them captured the magnitude of each of the costumes. It annoyed Korra how long they lingered on district 5's electric suits.

When the speech was finished the chariots were pulled inside and the doors shut tight behind them.