I didn't speak as my prep team got me ready. I stared at a bright green wall, fingering Estella's golden apple-shaped locket, deep in thought. In my mind, I was still on the balcony in the front of the train . . . arms open . . . embracing destiny . . .
I had already met my stylist – Vincent. He was a tall, strict-looking man with dark black hair and dull blue eyes. He wore a formal suit, and wore his long black hair in a ponytail town his back, tied with a white ribbon. He spoke with a clean, crisp accent.
"Lystra Fay Gull," my name sounded alien in his mouth. He stopped speaking, and had stared at me for a long moment, before turning and walking off.
At first I had been startled, even shocked, by the way that he had treated me – as if I was small, unimportant. After a few moments of feeling indignant, I let out a short, bark-like laugh. For maybe I was small, unimportant – despite what I had felt on the balcony the past night. I like how straightforward he was with me – he did not use unnecessary words, and it suited him.
My prep team was different.
The first, a perky woman with plain brown hair, had introduced herself as Cario. I couldn't help staring at the tattoos that lay on her skin – they appeared to be stenciled in brown – with a pattern of circles and straight lines. She wore plain brown clothes and her eyes were bright red. She moved with overly graceful moves, and spoke with a slur, as if she were drunk.
The second was Hezi. His dusty blonde hair and skin was the same color of parchment, and strange tattoos littered his skin in no obvious pattern like Cario's. They moved about, like ants on ground dusted with dirt. After a few moments of staring, I realized that he was a map – the whole of Panen was on his skin. Each little house was there – each tree, each wagon, each ant. I could see rivers flowing down his arm, emptying into a lake on his wrist. With a start, I realized that the moving tattoos were animals and humans – going about their daily business, and interacting with each other. They were so perfectly drawn, that when I looked at Hezi's cheekbone, I could clearly see a man eating an apple outside his house, and his wife sitting next to him sewing a new shirt. I could clearly see every thread of the cloth, as if I was standing before them.
When Hezi held out his hand, I immediately shook it. Hezi smiled slightly and shrugged off my hand, pointing at his palm. I actually stepped back in shock when I saw a small figure on his palm that looked exactly like me. When I stepped back, it did too, and when I covered my mouth with my hands, it did too.
My prep team all laughed in delight at my reaction.
The third, Marinah, had long aqua-marine hair and matching eyes. At first, I thought she was wearing a metal bodysuit, but when I looked closer, I found that her skin was in separate pieces, shaped as overlapping ovals. The pieces were, as far as I could see, still flesh, but they seemed to be metal by the way that they threw off the light in a cascade of colors I found quite startling.
As they introduced themselves, I complimented them on their odd décor, which simply charmed them. They went on for ten minutes about how they had been inspired to get it done. When they asked me, 'haven't you seen turquoise hair before, dear?' I had responded truthfully 'no'. This sent waves of distress into them, and, upon further questioning, they found out about my horribly un-glamorous life. When Cario stopped sobbing (her red eyes looked extremely frightening when she cried), she smiled a watery smile at me.
"Don't worry, dear," she said, patting my shoulder. "Vincent has designed a gorgeous outfit for you."
"Oh, dear!" Marinah exclaimed "just wait! You're going to love it!"
"It's his best," said Hezi earnestly, nodding happily "absolutely stunning."
"But you're not ready to wear it yet – we have to make you gorgeous first!" Marinah exclaimed, and the prep team had begun their furious attempt to make me beautiful.
In just over an hour, all grime and hair had been taken from my body, leaving me a peach pink – like a newborn baby.
Then Vincent came back in.
In his arms, cradled like you would a child, was a mound of cloth. I was craning my neck, trying to see it better, when he set it down on a table, and blocked it with his body. He studied me for a long moment, and then said,
"Well, I can at least look at you, now."
Ah, he was so straightforward and truthful with me, I smiled at him. To my delight, he smiled back, and directed me,
"Close your eyes."
I immediately obeyed, and there was a slight shuffling sound, cloth slipping over my skin – it was cool and smooth. I stepped into soft slippers. A rough beaded necklace was slipped over my neck, and rough beaded earrings were put into my newly pierced ears.
There were some rustling and adjusting as my prep team adjusted the dress and accessories, and a headband was slipped onto my head. There was more shuffling, and then silence.
"Open your eyes."
I opened my eyes, and let out a loud gasp.
My hair was in a simple long ponytail, blending in with the color of my golden dress. The dress was shaped to resemble the shape of an apple, and the jewelry was brown, as was the headband, and it resembled the stem of the apple.
With a start, I realized that Vincent had made me into a golden apple – the mystical fruit.
I smiled for a moment when I remembered the story of the golden apple – how much trouble that had caused! It was an old greek myth.
Zeus, king of the gods, was holding this banquet, and he had forgotten to invite Eris. Eris was angry, and had sent a golden apple to the party, with a note saying, 'to the fairest.' And three goddesses claimed the apple : Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite. Zeus knew that Paris was the most beautiful of mortals, and decided that he should judge who should get the golden apple.
Each of the goddesses offered Paris a gift as a bribe for winning the contest, and the golden apple. Hera offered to make him a famous, powerful king. Athena offered to make him wise above gods. And Aphrodite offered to make Helen of Sparta his wife. Paris chose Aphrodite.
Paris went to Helen's marriage with Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and later abducted her, and they both sailed to Troy.
It was this act that began one of the bloodiest wars of Greece – the Trojan War. In the end, Menelaus took Helen back to Sparta.
With a smile, I remembered my night on the balcony, and the same wild joy came over me. I realized something all of a sudden : I hoped to cause just as much trouble – if not, more. But not only that, I was sure that I would cause all of the trouble . . . trouble to begin a war . . .
A war that would put an end to the Capitol.