Aloha once again my readers, my writer's block has thankfully vanished for the time being so I can really get cracking on with some writing. We're in the Remake Centre now, so it seems that we're starting to really warm up and will be setting up the main plots and all that jazz soonish :D Now, let's get this show on the road…
Regina Rizetsky, District 12 Prep Team.
Although it is rarer than a lunar eclipse, or maybe a solar eclipse: which is actually rarer? Now I'm confused but the point of the matter is that for once, Regina Rizetsky is actually speechless. As in confounded and totally lost for words: This girl, although it is exceptionally hard to classify it as human; this thing is definitely not a sight for sore eyes and although I am practically a miracle worker it is going to be very difficult, it could even be impossible, to ensure that this tribute starts to show some resemblance to humanity. I turn my well trained critical on the eye and turn to my little lackeys; I start to bark my orders:
'It's hair is lanky and dull, we need a deep conditioning so Amaratia get on it.' I glance to my turquoise headed apprentice, I can tell she won't last long in this business whatsoever; I mean she's staring at the girl as if she is about to burst into tears, didn't she learn a thing in training? It is our job to make these things presentable, not to actually care about them: The girl, Livvya her file says, looks affronted that I'm talking so bluntly about her physical misgivings; It is not my job to be considerate and I am not about to start catering to her every need.
'Cortina, that girls nails are chewed to high heaven; get some false nails and while your at it: Prepare a full body scrub, this girl is covered in dirt and we have the Chariot Rides this evening, now get me some disinfectant too. I don't know what diseases this girl is riddled with.' It's true, I don't want to catch something from this little creature from the coal mining district; it is almost part season and illness will simply ruin all of my plans. The girl looks as though she is about to cry and I honestly would slap her if I knew for a fact she was actually clean. Why does she deserve to be crying? Why would my words offend her? She should be thanking me, I'm going to make her look as beautiful as someone who looks like that can.
'It's okay Liv; we're going to make you look fabulous.' I raise my eyebrow at Amaratia, by trying to make this girl comfortable she is not doing as I directed: insubordinance is not something that Regina Rizetsky takes too well to, I pierce Amaratia with my most menacing glare and she cowers like the pathetic being she is: the woman should have been born in the districts of Panem, she lacks the sophistication and the decorum to be considered a true Capitol citizen. Then, as I am turning around I find the girl is actually smiling and I actually shriek.
'Oh my Panem, get a dentist stat. This girl needs veneers stat, if the audience she that smile they could potentially drop dead from fear.' I have to take a seat and press my perfectly manicured hand to my enhanced chest, I am definitely sure I have never seen such a horrific sight as those teeth: crooked and yellow, I simply recoil at the thought of how much bacteria festers in that mouth of hers, the girl with that lopsided smile: I feel like spiders are crawling across my aubergine coloured skin, I doubt that even turpentine could kill the bacteria. This Livvya girl is looking so upset and Amaratia is comforting her, I roll my eyes and stand when Cortina enter, her arms laden with products. I clear my throat.
'Now, girls it's time to get to work; we only have a few hours and we have a lot to do. Now Livvya, it may hurt but it is essential: It could earn you sponsors.' Livvya nods her head and smiles, thankfully with her mouth closed or I would've broken down and fled the room; I am stunned as to how she manages to maintain a such a sweet nature despite my cutting remarks, maybe she is mentally challenged seeing as I've heard on the grapevine that many of the citizens in District 12 aren't all the ticket. Cortina and Amaratia strike up a conversation with the girl as I blast her with the power hose. I had better get a promotion after having to do this.
Well after working diligently for hours I have once again achieved the impossible: this Livvya Howell actually looks human, with glossy black curls, porcelain skin and even though I never noticed beyond all the grime and the general air of unkemptness that she had sparkling green eyes and thanks to Dr. Armeudius she now has a shining white smile with perfectly formed teeth: Call me Regina Rizetsky the miracle worker. Now the girl just gives me hug, well I suppose now that I'm sure she's clean I can't really object.
'Thank You, all of you. You have made this experience ever so great. How can I ever thank you?' Oh, so she is thankful. It is good to know that these district kids have some manners after all; well now that we're all finished it's time to contact the stylist, he has requested that we apply no make up so now our job is finished.
'That is very gracious of you Livvya, now you'll have to wait here. Your stylist, Tinakbelle, will be here shortly.' We exit the room and Amaratia is almost in tears talking about how the poor little girl doesn't stand a chance, and in all honesty I agree; not that it concerns me but maybe 12 is a little young for the Hunger Games.
Kai Thallasa, District 4.
My prep team are all ogling me and even though one of them is a man I am not concerned whatsoever, ever since puberty everyone has looked at me; whether or not their male, female, homosexual or heterosexual, I can't help the effect I have on people and if I can charm anybody who looks directly at me. In fact I am thankful for my Adonis like physique and my handsome features, sponsorships will be rolling in. I look down and see how my bronzed skin seem to ripple as I roll my muscled and I hear the sighs from the prep team as they take in the exquisite form before them. It is difficult to keep the smirk from my face, if that is all it really takes to impress these morons then this isn't going to be much work at all. I decide to flex my biceps and I'm greeted with applause from my flamboyant prep team, I would refer to them by their names but in all honesty these tropically coloured birds are beneath me and all I need is for them to make me look phenomenal and in all honesty there was not that much to do.
'You look amazing…simply amazing…' The compliments seem endless and I just smile at them, I do look amazing and it is good to know that my devastating looks are recognised and their applause is truly flattering; the superficiality of the Capitol is yet another weapon within my arsenal: If they are so taken with 'pretty' things then it seems that my physical appearance is as useful as being an emotionless sociopath. I just give them my winning smile, thanks to my sun bronzed skin my white teeth seem to glisten and appear even more pearly white; I can already feel President Snow placing the Victor's crown atop my head.
'Do that Adonis pose again, with your arms raised…' I oblige, after all these people and their friends will be sponsoring me and I cannot afford to displease them and although I rarely feel emotions, I am very familiar with pride and vanity. Now, I am eager to see what my stylist will be dressing me in; all that I've managed to learn from the little flock of birds that constitute my prep team is that the look goes along the lines of 'less is more', which I think means that I'll be wearing very little clothing and that doesn't really concern me seeing as I'll be showing off my best assets: I'll practically be a magnet for potential sponsors. A loincloth constructed from golden netting, or maybe just a shell to cover my manhood.
'Any more requests ladies and gentlemen.' You'd of thought I just done something completely extraordinary by their reaction rather then just having spoken six meagre words, but what else could I expect seeing as my presence is so intoxicating to those around me? The one woman literally swoons and falls to the floor in ecstasy and another is almost hysterical, the only other man is hyper ventilating as his red eyes seem to travel the length of my body, he licks his lips and rather than finding it disgusting I wink to him in encouragement. Allow them to leer now, for I know that once I obtain victory they could very well become my consorts: for the correct price of course, yes I know the fate that awaits Victors who like me are fine physical specimen but that doesn't concern me at all: I'd be selfish not to pay back the people who sponsor me within the arena, with my body but not my emotions.
'No time for that we need to do your make up and we've decided on a pallet of gold, bronzes and autumn reds.' The woman who had recently fainted is back on her feet and hands me a flimsy cotton gown and I decide to wear it seeing as all three of these twits will be unable to concentrate if I'm baring too much flesh; I'm led to a chair and then they are flocking me yet again, I just close my eyes savouring the feather light touch of the soft make up brush on my face and along my abs: My thoughts drift and I imagine the multitude of ways that I'll be able to legally kill the other tributes in only one weeks time, piercing flesh with the tip of my spear; choking the life out of some pathetic tribute; disembowelling another and holding someone beneath the water until they drown, feeling the life seep from their limbs. I feel a smile curl my lips and then I notice the silence.
'Enjoyed your nap?' I open my eyes and I find myself alone in the room, the exception being some young woman with tomato red hair and overly large green eyes; she is very attractive and I rearrange my features into my winning smile, I mean it's just another Capitol woman I have to charm but what surprises me is that she isn't fawning over me like expected, instead she shakes her head and laughs in my face. How dare she, my charm is infallible and she should fall at my feet like every other person I've encountered here in the Capitol. She just stands up and circles me while taking notes.
'Now shut up, I'm not here for you to fruitlessly try and charm me into liking you: I am your stylist, Llanelli, seeing as you're 'perfect'; not my words, you'll be wearing very little ego and seeing as you have an enormous ego I'm sure that doesn't both you in the least.' I am shocked, and in all honesty I am feeling a little more vulnerable than ever before. Why is this woman not in love with me? I am too curious to not enquire.
'And why would my charm fail fruitlessly?' I try and sound nonchalant but the way she stares into my eyes tell me that she see's that my question is loaded with genuine curiosity; she chews on her lip and runs her hand through her hair as if contemplating whether or not to answer my question. I nod my head and she just rolls her eyes, I am seriously contemplating complaining because this is not what I expect from a professional stylist and once I win I'll make sure that this woman is disciplined accordingly; she must read my calculating expression because she just grins at me as if she knows something I don't, the arrogant little bitch.
'I detest arrogance, and I've encountered your type before: you don't scare me so the glaring is pointless. I may be intelligent enough to see through your charm but not many are so don't worry you'll still have sponsors. And on top of that, you're really not my type seeing as you have something dangling between your legs. Now you're outfit is in the garment bag, I trust that you're competent enough to get it on seeing as it only has to be knotted around your waist. I have to go, goodbye Kai.' The woman is so detestable but once I've gotten into my costume I admit she is genius; I am a God of the sea, fierce and stunning. I will be the blazing star in the Chariot Rides and nobody will be able to question it, but something is still nagging me about the stylist.
Lacey Burton, District 8.
If I were still the Lacey Burton who lived in District 8 I would be completely amazed by the couture gown I am wearing; every stitch is sewn to perfection and it encompasses everything that demonstrates good craftsmanship; but I am not Lacey Burton and I haven't been since my encounter with the devious boy who is my district partner but I already have a plan as to how I will demolish him within the games. Cecelia has been teaching me a few tricks and I'm more than confident that I am not the harmless little girl everyone thinks I am, I won't let the Hunger Games be the death of me; I have a lot to live for, whether it be something as trivial as continuing to work in my mother's shop and marrying somebody in a simple ceremony. Now I can see that this dress is nothing but a tool to be used in my campaign to become Victor of the 62nd Hunger Games, and yes I am very much aware the likelihood of my Victory is practically impossible but I cannot simply be content to die. I never deserved this, I was the sweet girl, hard working and content to just sit with my head buried in a book but I've found myself in this scenario and I've had to compromise the very essence of my character in a vain hope at living to tell the tale. But I long to return to being that sweet girl but I will never be the same however much I try to reassure myself that I will after having to transform into this little monster: the 12 year old girl who has no qualms about murdering another person if it results in my survival.
The dress really enhances the angle that seems to be built for me, one of the two 12 year olds in this years games: angelic, cute and just the smallest sweetheart; it is a mockery of how I used to be with my carefree youth and my radiant innocence, the very innocence that these Hunger Games have stolen. My hair is not in it's usual messy bun but arranged in gossamer curls that fall to the middle of my back which surprised me seeing as I thought my hair was much shorter but I always wear it up so I'd never know, my blue eyes are lined with white to make them appear larger and more child like and then my blush which is ever present seems to glitter thanks to the lotions and ointments applied to my skin throughout the 'make over process' which was most likely the most painful thing I'll ever face and that includes my potential death within the arena. See, it is very painful when every hair is ripped from your body, but I somehow managed to pull through while maintaining a smile as Cecelia suggested: she said it is pivotal that everyone falls in love with me, and that I'm the cute little girl which I understand is the key to me securing sponsors but how will they believe the sweet girl façade when I'm killing people within the arena.
'It's time Lacey, you look marvellous and the crowd will love it. Now follow me the tribute parade will begin shortly' I follow my stylist from the room and I feel my anxiety swelling like a balloon, in a matter of moments I'll be seeing my 'competition' for the first time, the people destined for death if I am to live but more than likely I will be setting eyes on the individual who will be extinguishing my life after only 12 years; I'm not really scared like I was before the reaping, I'm powerless to do anything but I am reluctant for it to begin because I can already hear a ticking: A clock ticking until the games begin, probably a timer until the moment I breathe my last breath, my heart beats for the final time. I swallow and Aneeta my stylist turns to look at me, her bird like features with the beak and feathers are hard to read but I think she is concerned, she places her hand on my back and walks with me, speaking in her melodic voice which is truly reminiscent of birdsong.
'Don't be scared Lacey, remember to smile and everything will be fine. Don't let the other tributes see that you're scared.' I nod my head, I already knew that but it proves to me that Aneeta does care enough to try and help me do well. I hold out my hand and she grabs it, looking confused and escorts me into the chamber beneath the Remake Centre which holds the Chariots and people turn to look as we enter but they quickly direct their attention elsewhere; presenting myself with Aneeta has made me look weak as if I need a baby sitter and not one of these people will look at me as a threat, which is fine by me because direct confrontation isn't the key to survival. I'm escorted to my Chariot to find that Lyle is already there: Looking very handsome as usual but also wearing that sadistic smile of his that never seems to leave his face.
'Oh little Lacey poo, are you scared?' He pouts like child and just laughs, Cecelia says my greatest weapon with Lyle as my opponent is his arrogance; he thinks this will be a walk in the park and if he maintains that attitude it'll just result in him dying even earlier in the competition. I just smile and look down, I don't want to argue because although I've pledged that as the female tribute of District 8 I must kill it doesn't mean I want to be making enemies, especially enemies as lethal as Lyle.
'No Lyle, I am happy: I'm wearing a beautiful dress and everyone will be cheering for me, it's just so nice to feel special.' He just snorts at my answer and continues staring off into the distance and I try to follow his eye line but I'm too short so I climb onto the railing and I notice what has caught his attention: The careers, obviously he expects to be a part of their alliance, well that isn't going to be happening if I have anything to do with it. Lyle turns to look at me and I smile at him as sweetly as I can.
'What are you smiling at little girl?' I don't answer; I just continue to give him the sickly sweet smile because the answer is pretty obvious: Mister Carrington, this 12 year old has just decided how she will ruin your little plan to join up with the Careers and there is nothing you can do about it without facing some extreme consequences.
Chariot Rides coming next, I know we're not seeing all the tributes but trust me when I say that they'll all be popping up at least once before the arena :) and it may seem like I'm using other people's POV's a lot but don't worry as soon as we're in the arena the tributes will be the stars of the show… Well, with little snippets of what's happening elsewhere anyway!
You know the drill, REVIEW!
Loves, xxx