Rose was majorly stressing these interviews, and it was annoying.
"I'm already hot. What more do I need?" Acton asked in bored tone as Rose droned on and on about the importance of how he played the interview in relation to sponsors and whatever.
His mentor narrowed her eyes, which caused Acton to grin. He quickly wiped the smile off his face and tried to put on a straight face. He held it for three seconds before smirking. "Sorry, sorry!" he laughed as Rose huffed and got to her feet, proclaiming him as hopeless.
The woman turned around, fixing her dark green eyes on him. "The interviews are extremely important. Yes, the Capitol has a sense of your looks now. You somehow managed to pull an eight in training, and I won't dare to ask how—"
Acton smiled to himself at this. Sure, he was fairly skilled with a sword, and he probably could've managed the average five that non-Career tributes tend to get, but he had worked a little magic of his own. He'd quickly deduced that the woman with the pink buzz cut and the nose ring was the head Gamemaker. She was pretty enough to make his job easy. He had her wrapped around his finger in a matter of minutes and kissed her on his way out.
Her magenta eyes, devoid of emotion when he came in, sparkled with lust as he left.
He'd heard plenty of stories about victors having to sell their bodies and how horrible it was, but honestly, you got paid to get laid. What the hell was the problem with that? And now he had a shiny score that would get him sponsors and all he had to do was kiss a pretty girl.
"—but up until now they haven't had a chance to get to know your personality. We need to match you to the image they've created of you so they fall a little harder for your, uh, charms."
Acton raised his eyebrows, which caused Rose to blush for a moment before she composed herself. "They see you as a, uh, womanizer," she said putting air quotes around the word. "We need to work that angle. The Capitol women will fall for you and want to keep you alive so long as we keep you sexy and charming."
"I can do that," Acton nodded, putting his feet up on the coffee table and stretching. "You should probably work with Yuki. Her stylists can doll her up, sure, but it'll need a miracle to make her likeable by any stretch."
"She got a ten in training. The public sees her as aloof, intelligent, and formidable. They can see that she will do well in the arena. We decided last night to keep up that angle."
"Angle? That's just her personality."
"As is yours," Rose pointed out coolly. "Now, we need to talk about the importance of body language."
Acton grinned, wiggling his eyebrows again. He chuckled as he observed Rose try very hard to keep a straight face. The strict woman stood no chance up against him. It was clear to both of them that the lively woman who conducted the interviews would be the same.
"Posture is tricky and very important," the mentor continued seriously. "You need to stand straight enough for people to see that you are bold and confident, but not so straight that you come across as cocky. That tends to be a turn-off, and that won't help us."
Acton sighed. "Look, Rose," he began, throwing in a simpering smile and watching her amusing reaction. "We both know how you've been through this whole session. It's obvious that the Capitol women will react the same way to the person that I am. I don't need training."
"I am not a Capitol woman!" Rose exclaimed hotly.
"Exactly. You're uptight and strict and your job is to train me to win, not to pay others to help me win. If I can get through to you, a crowd of vapid women with weird haircuts will be no problem."
Sighing, Rose nodded. "You're right." She checked her watch, mentally calculating the time until the interviews. "Xennon and Darling will need you to look perfect to maximize the effect, so you'd better go see them now. Rhodochrosite!"
The bubbly escort bounded into the room, pink zebra hair swishing back and forth. "Yes?"
"Send Yuki in."
Rhodochrosite nodded happily. Rose smirked as she left. "Yeah, her type will be easy to seduce."
With a smile, Acton entered the elevator and quickly found himself in a brightly colored room with his two stylists grinning widely at him. The two were so brainless about anything other than fashion that it almost hurt to be in the same room as them. Sure, Acton wasn't the sharpest sword in the cornucopia, but he looked like a Gamemaker compared to those two dunces.
"What angle did you and Rose decide on?" Xennon asked loudly, dressed in his trademark tight silver clothes. He ran a hand through his bright silver hair, blinking his silver eyes. Acton had to look away from him every few minutes or else he would start to see spots.
"Sexy, charming womanizer, of course," Acton laughed. Darling let out a girlish giggle, her big green eyes alight with laughter. God, they are adorable.
"So we're going for sexy without seeming like an asshole, I take it?" Xennon inquired.
Acton nodded. He certainly wasn't envisioning himself walking onto the stage in dark jeans that hugged his legs, a deep V-neck, and a leather jacket. It'd be hot, sure, but he needed to be relatable. "Capitol fashion, not District."
The two nodded seriously, as though this outfit would single-handedly determine whether or not Acton lived or died. Xennon bustled off to get the clothes ready while Darling got straight to work on his make-up. Acton felt like he should be embarrassed by wearing foundation and concealer and whatever, but he looked damn attractive with it all on. He sat back in his chair. With actual make-up, a manicure, a pedicure, and waiting for Xennon, he'd be sitting a while. Darling tilted his head back into a basin and ran hot water over his hair. It was comforting, cozy…
An hour or so later, Xennon returned. Acton's hair had been shampooed, conditioned, and styled. His fingernails were all the exact same length, coated in a clear polish. His toenails were uniformly clipped. His face was utterly flawless, a shade or two darker than usual. Some highlighting here and there left his features enhanced but still manly.
If I wasn't me, I would totally have sex with me. God, that sounds weird.
"The heart of the Capitol will melt the second you step on stage," Xennon said proudly, holding up an armful of clothes. "You'll be stealing the stage the whole night, not just during your interview. Now close your eyes, I want to see your face when you witness the whole ensemble."
Acton nodded, shutting his eyes. He felt rather silly as the two dressed him. His arms were slipped into something soft and cotton-y. Tight pants were tugged over his legs. Something light was placed on his head. After the two beat themselves up over tweaks and perfections, they finally led him over to what he presumed was the big mirror with the extensions that let you see yourself from all angles.
"Open your eyes!" Darling sang happily.
Blinking in the bright light, Acton focused in on his appearance. Xennon had done a perfect job. A collared button-down shirt hung open on his torso, displaying his pride and joy, his six pack. Dark skinny jeans hugged his legs. A heather gray fedora hat sat on his head, angled ever so slightly over the right side of his forehead. On his feet were white high-top shoes with pink and gray accents coupled with pink laces.
He was right up next to the line that Xennon had tipped over. He looked attractive but still masculine, the kind of guy girls would duel over. He had the interviews in the bag for sure.
"It's perfect," Acton grinned. "Just the angle we need."
Xennon glowed at the praise, and Darling leaned onto the flamboyant man's shoulder. "Come along, now. The interviews will be held shortly."
Acton allowed the two to lead him to his newest destination. They left him in a dank space he assumed was under the stage where the other tributes waited. A quick survey determined that Acton was definitely the best-dressed guy there. Guys were traditionally harder to dress than girls. There was no end to the things you could do with a dress or a skirt or a top or pants or whatever. The options were exponentially less for guys. They all looked similar, but Acton stood out.
Perfect.
From above Acton could hear the voice of the famous Livia Garnette welcoming the crowd to the 238th Hunger Games interviews. Livia had taken over a few years ago, so she was a fresh face with experience. She would also be making Acton's job much easier than if the interviews were still conducted by the man Livia had taken over for.
In a single file line, the twenty-four tributes trailed onto the stage and took their respective seats. Acton sat comfortably, not bothering to look like there was a stick up his ass like some of the other guys were doing. He relaxed, seeming to hardly notice the massive crowd before him. He instead focused his eyes on Livia.
Her hair was a periwinkle blue color. It was cut into a short, spiky 'do that was styled to look windswept. It worked very well, sticking out in several directions without looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. The pale blue strands faded to a much darker color about a half inch from the roots before transforming into black at her scalp. Her skin was a creamy pale color. She was short, a pixie-like creature with dainty, angular features.
She was dressed in a bold goldenrod-colored dress that held a shade of orange like the warm lights of a streetlamp. It was strapless, falling to her knees with a balloon skirt. She wore six-inch high heels that perfectly mirrored the color of her hair.
Her eyes were another spectacle on their own. They were the deep purple of the evening sky over a brightly lit city. The irises blended into the pupils, creating an eerie effect. Her eyes would be downright scary if it weren't for the flickers of pale gray that mottled the dark purple.
Acton wouldn't have to pretend to like her. She was gorgeous.
He rehearsed ideas in his head as the tributes before him were interviewed by the beautiful Livia. Ciara Westbrook was arrogant and sexy, smiling at the crowd and flipping her hair over her shoulder. She believed that she was going to win. Her training score had been a measly six, which was downright embarrassing for a tribute from District 1. To top it off, she was dressed like a total slut. She was practically naked in a strapless crimson dress that didn't even reach her knees with slits up both sides.
Her District partner was her polar opposite. He was very quiet, but he when he got the hang of his nerves he was quite hilarious. The crowd was in stitches, though not necessarily convinced that he would be Games material.
Anja was stunning. She wore a maroon dress dotted with variously sized rhinestones that twinkled under the lights of the stage. She wore make-up, but it wasn't too bold. Her hair, typically curly, had been flattened slightly and styled into an elegant bun. Her posture was perfect. She was calm yet bold, and by the end of her interview the entire stadium was hanging onto her every word.
Thane, the other tribute from District 2, also worked the crowd well. He'd scored a nine in training, which was right with the status quo for his District. He wore light brown slacks and was barefoot, as was turning out to be his trademark. A light green button-down shirt was tucked into his pants, the top two buttons undone. His hair was swept to the side. He came across as intelligent and fair. Not necessarily the killing type, but he would be formidable when it came to brains.
Yuki was next. To keep with the aloof and intelligent deal, she had been dressed modest and dark. A deep blue dress showed off her pale features and highlighted her dark, gray-blue eyes. It had thin spaghetti straps. The skirt fell to just above her knees before angling so that one side nearly swept the floor while the other just brushed her knee. Simple black heels were on her feet. Her black hair was left down, a silky curtain that cascaded down her shoulders. A dark blue ribbon decorated the plain hairstyle. She was curt with Livia, brutally honest and smart.
And then it was Acton's turn. Cheers rose up from the crowd as he stood, his outfit already doing its job. He sat down in the vacant chair beside Livia, rolling his shoulders once to loosen them. He smiled at her, and she ducked her head to hide that she was blushing.
"So, Acton. An eight in training is above average for your District, is it not?"
He nodded, willing her to continue.
"I know you can't tell us what went on, but could you give us a hint? Do you think you're going to be a force to be reckoned with in the arena?"
"I'm always a force to be reckoned with," Acton chuckled, winking at Livia. The crowd cheered again, and Acton smiled at them before turning back to his interviewer.
"The ladies of the Capitol—and in fact some of the men—are quite taken with you. Any comments?"
"I love that people have taken such interest in me. I've always believed that the victors are the bolder tributes that aren't afraid to put themselves out there."
"Is there a special girl back home that you're fighting for?"
Acton could practically hear Rose urging him on. He smiled to himself, looking down at the floor and then back up at Livia. He answered honestly. "I'm still looking for her, really."
The crowd went wild. He caught Yuki rolling her eyes, which widened his grin. Livia's pale face was flushed with color, and she fiddled with her index cards. The applause went on for a few minutes before the audience was finally ordered to quiet down.
Well done.
"The Capitol has been watching you with interest, and it was lovely to finally get a sense of who you really are, Acton."
"The pleasure was all mine."
And then, just for show, he kissed her on the cheek before sitting back down.
Skye's hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. Nervous was a hideous understatement in regards to what she was feeling. The other tributes were brilliant. They all had angles, and they were gorgeous and perfect and the crowd loved them. She was following the best act so far: the 238th Games' resident womanizer, Acton Cuthburt.
Her stylists, February and Wednesday, hadn't had an easy time dressing her for her interview. Her red hair complicated everything. They didn't want to clash. They had ruled out brown and black as main colors, the former because she had worn it at the reaping and the latter because they wanted her to appear light and innocent. They had eventually settled on a dress of a cream-beige color.
Sleeves connected to the neckline of the dress and fanned out to cover only her shoulders before thinning out again and melding into the back. The dress had a tight top with a skirt beginning at her belly button. The skirt consisted of multiple layers of ruffles that ended at her mid-thigh. A thick dark brown ribbon was wrapped around her stomach above the ruffles, tying in a floppy bow in the back. She wore soft brown flats on her feet.
The dress was pretty, yes, but it reminded her of a wedding dress.
Reminded her of a life she would never get to live.
Taking a deep breath, she got to her feet and glided over to the seat beside Livia. The woman smiled at her, a gesture that the girl from District 4 attempted to return. She sat down, smoothing the skirt of her dress and sitting up as straight as she could. She was supposed to go for an innocent angle. She'd be lucky to work in any angle.
She could feel every set of eyes that was trained on her. Here she sat before one of her biggest fears: crowds. Everyone was watching her. She wanted to melt, wanted to turn invisible, wanted to disappear, wanted to escape this nightmare.
"How are you feeling tonight, Skye?" Livia asked kindly.
Skye winced as though the woman had struck her. She drew in a deep breath. "Fine, you?" she asked quietly, staring at the floor.
"You'll have to speak up, dear."
"I'm fine," Skye said a little louder.
"That's lovely," Livia commented. "Now, you only got a four in training. Typically tributes from your District get at least an eight."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A cruel, taunting statement. Skye managed a nod, trying to keep her limbs from shaking. "That's right," she choked out.
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, yes," Skye answered quickly. You're blowing it. Innocent is one thing. Shy as a mouse is another. No one will ever sponsor you. They're all thinking about how you're going to be a bloodbath tribute. You know it.
"What are your impressions of the Capitol so far?"
"There are so many different smells," Skye blurted out, her skin turning a shade of red. The crowd chuckled. "It's just—well, at home it tends to smell like fish and seawater. It's strange to be away from it."
Livia smiled. "Do you miss home?"
Skye nodded quietly. "A lot. I want to make it back."
"Do you think you will?"
Such a simple question. The answer was simple, too. The "no" was on the tip of her tongue, fighting to get out. But if she answered truthfully, it would only finalize her death sentence. Technically, she still stood a chance. The boy she had met on the train, Marshall Reed, had continued to talk to her. They planned to be allies. With him, she stood a chance.
"I have a chance. I want to see my parents again."
The crowd let out a collective "aw" at this. It was rather pathetic, really. She was fifteen, and the only thing she cared about was seeing her parents again. It was stupid and childish. They saw her as a little girl who missed her mommy and daddy. She was shy, timid, unable to survive.
"Thank you, Skye."
The redhead nodded, getting to her feet. A burst of courage had her curtsying to the crowd. A chorus of "aws" and applause met her ears, and she allowed herself a tiny smile at the Capitol.
Sitting back down, Skye found her mentor, 47, in the crowd. His face displayed no emotion, and Skye instantly felt that she had failed him. She had screwed up her angle, becoming a child in need of someone to care for her rather than an innocent yet independent young woman. Her nerves had gotten the best of her and now she was going to pay for it.
She didn't pay attention to most of the other interviews. When she did it only tightened the knots in her stomach. This one was funny, this one was smart, this one was witty, this one was intense, this one was a winner, this one was a fighter. They all had ideas, they had angles. They had personalities and the crowd loved them. Skye was quickly overshadowed, shoved into the corner and forgotten.
Marshall's interview was the only one she paid real attention to. She was worried that after her abysmal interview, he wouldn't want to be her ally anymore. Who would want to team up with someone so fragile, after all?
The sixteen-year-old boy from District 10 was dressed in a deep V-neck that matched his bright green eyes. Dark skinny jeans hid his legs, with simple green sneakers on his feet. His short blonde hair was puffed up, the kind of hair you wanted to run your hand through. The crowd adored him. He was friendly and smart, not to mention attractive.
"So, Marshall, do you have any allies for these Games?"
Oh no. This is it. Skye averted her eyes from Marshall, bracing herself for the worst. He was going to say no. He was going to be in the strongest group. She was going to be alone.
"Yes, as it happens," Marshall said confidently. "Skye and I plan to form an alliance in the arena."
A deep breath of relief slid from Skye as she heard these words. She sat up straighter, fixing her eyes back on the tall, muscular boy. Why he liked her, she had no idea. But she liked him, and if she was going to spend her last moments with anyone, he was definitely one of her top choices.
And the crowd loved it.
AN: NaNoWriMo is almost upon us! Anyone else doing it? One more chapter should be going up before November. Reviews are always appreciated~