So… the Capital chapters are hard for me to start… wish me luck… and thank you so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it! Thanks! This song is 'Sugar We're Goin Down' by Fall Out Boys.
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it
…
Caspias Destin The Brave
When I first stepped off the train I was blinded by light and made deaf by the hollers of Capital citizens. They shouted my name over and over. Reporters stood on the edges of the small path to the building where we would get dressed for the chariots. The whole situation overwhelmed me. If the Capital doesn't call that a welcome, I'm afraid for the parade. I remember Katrina strutted behind me. I turned around once and caught arrogance on her face. Her nose was tilted upwards and her eyes were focusing on a point ahead of us. She had the slightest smirk on her face. I suppose she's one of them. I shouldn't be surprised, District Four is full of aspiring victors, most of which fall flat on their faces in the arena. They raise hope for the District, but usually end in loss.
Not that I know anything about hope, people believing in me. Sure, my parents tell me they think I have a chance, but no one else is relying on me to bring home a victory. District Four has their eyes on Katrina this year. I don't blame them, she's tough, I can tell just by looking at her. She doesn't show much emotion, she didn't even look nervous on the train.
Now I sit on a plush red velvet chair in my stylist's room. I wear only a white robe. Feeling exposed, I glance around the room. My stylist left a few minutes ago, telling me he had my costume ready. The metallic walls of the room are shiny. I can barely make out my blurry reflection. I look small compared to the tall mirror in front of me and the large chair I sit on. The pure white floor contradicts the walls and the modern look of the room. It's the type of flooring I would see in my classroom.
"Caspias? Are you ready?" I turn around to find my stylist, Ze, holding a massive costume. I can make out a shimmering blue fabric intertwined by fishing nets.
I nod and begin to stand up.
"No, no! I come to you," Ze beings to stumble towards me with the cumbersome clothing. Before he reaches me he nearly trips.
"Undress!" Ze signals me to remove my robe. I slip it off and lay it on the floor. My stylist nods, running an orange hand through his short green hair. "It will fit!" he declares and holds out a blue full-body suit that looks a size too small. I take it and within minutes I'm covered in the glistening and stretchy fabric. There is only one hole that exposes my face. My hair is matted down to my scalp and my whole body hurts from the scrubbing and cleaning. I gawk at myself in the mirror. I look ridiculous! Although, I'm aware of Ze's goal. The blue cloth shimmers from reflecting the harsh light from the room. It looks like a body of water.
"Hold still!" Ze claps his hands and picks up a long line of rope from the floor. He begins to wrap in around my aching body. When he's finished he smiles broadly and puts his hands in the air.
I turn to the mirror and see a boy unlike me. He's bulky and handsome. This boy is confident, smart, strong- a victor.
My thoughts are interrupted, once again, by Ze, "Don't mess this up! The outfit is brilliant. Very complimentary to your," he makes motions with his hands, "figure."
"Thank you," I mutter. It isn't much, but I don't think I'll be showing any gratitude to the Capital anytime soon.
"Now we must walk. We will meet up with Katrina and her stylist, Pompi, and move to the chariots! This is so exciting!" Ze's angular face shows his eagerness. His orange skin glows and his green eyes sparkle. There's wonderment in them not unlike the eyes of a child- pure and innocent.
Ze places a firm hand on my back, ushering me to the hallway. Across from my stylist's room is an identical room. Katrina and her stylist step out of it.
Katrina wears the same attire as me. The only real difference is her hair. Her normally long brown hair is wound up the back of her head, forming tiny elaborate spirals. It's been sprayed with sparkles, giving it an ocean-like effect.
When she catches me looking at her she raises an eyebrow. Her judgmental green eyes glisten with anticipation.
"Walk, tributes!" Ze cries and pushes the both of us through the narrow hallway. We don't catch sight of any of the other tributes on our way to the Chariots since our dressing rooms are close to the end of the hall. Still, Katrina smiles even though there's no one to watch her but me. We enter the clearing of the hall and exit to a towering room. The ceilings consist of paintings with wide brush strokes. There aren't any images, just designs, swirls, jagged colors.
"Here we are!" Ze grins and points to a black coated chariot with a gold metallic '4' painted on each side. Two matching black horses are attatched to the front, waiting impatiently to take off.
Katrina and I hop on, ready to start the first milestone at the Capital.
Robin Cade The Benevolent
Keegan and I sit mounted on our chariot, awaiting our arrival. Our outfits are typical for District Eleven- orchard workers complete with jean overalls and lots of red and white plaid. Our shoes are dark brown boots, pulled up to the halfway point between our ankles and knees. My hair is twisted into two pigtail braids. Green vines wrap around my limbs, holding me into position. Keegan is dressed the same as me, but instead of giving him a look of innocence, it makes him look strong.
He's nice enough, I mean Keegan. He stares at me though, like I'm crazy. I think it's because I volunteered. That combined with the fact I'm fourteen; he's a good two years older than me. He probably doesn't think it is right that he's forced to go into the Hunger Games… and then there's me, waltzing up to the stage and declaring that I should be thrown in with him. I wouldn't like it either. I'd be jealous that someone else had a choice to enter.
But he doesn't know that really, I don't have a choice.
Three months to live, that's what my neighbor told me. He also said I could be cured, but the procedure would cost too much. I have a weak heart. One that can't stand much physical activity. Eventually it will give out on me.
So I could either die slowly one day, or I could fight it. Becoming a victor would make me rich; I would have enough money for surgery.
The way I see it, I'm lucky. I have a choice to change my fate unlike most of the unfortunate tributes.
We are told that we will start soon, but I still don't know how I will react to the hollering Capital. I don't know how I should react.
My eyes dart to each tribute before me. The two in the first chariot for District One are dressed in all white. Halos float over their heads and wings shoot out of their backs. I'd suppose it would be uncomfortable. I'd rather wear these scratchy vines any day. The girl from One doesn't look very intimidating. She's small and wide-eyed, making me think that the angelic costumes were meant mostly for her since District One doesn't exactly have the reputation of being pure and sweet. Even though she's small, she sits up straight and offers anyone who looks at her a sour glare. The boy next to her is bulky. The two appear to be polar opposites. The boy's hard glare shoots from tribute to tribute.
I move to the next chariot, District Two. Both tributes wear silver and gold armor that looks heavy. The weight seems to be crushing the female tribute as her back is slightly arched over. The girl, once again, doesn't appear to be a threat, although she doesn't seem to be as confident as the girl from District One. She doesn't look any of the other tributes in the eye and even shrugs away from her District partner. The boy is skinnier than most tributes I've seen from District Two. Although, I recall watching him volunteer.
I pass District Three, as they are not usually a threat, but make a mental note to return to them later.
District Four is dressed in shimmery blue costumes that throw light around the room. Heavy rope is draped over their bodies. The Girl from Four has an eerie grin on her face. There is viciousness in her eyes. Even from a distance I can see that she means harm. The boy looks far less frightening. He looks down at his feet.
Isn't that odd? I think to myself. Usually the tributes from the upper Districts are strong, intimidating, threatening. But the only tributes that fit into these categories are the Boy from One and the Girl from Four. Maybe this year the underdogs will have a better chance. Maybe this year will belong to District Eleven.
Keegan nudges my shoulder lightly, but a metal vine leaf pokes my skin and I wince. "Sorry," he says in regard to my arm, "What do you think of the tributes this year?"
I hesitate, why should I tell him? But in the end I shrug and say, "They seem less threatening. I feel bad, there are so many young tributes in this year! Surely they'll die,"
Keegan nods, "I was thinking the same thing. The lower Districts look stronger. Maybe this year we'll have a chance,"
Thorn Cotton The Optimist
A shiver crawls through my body. I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. The District One carriage has already traveled through the wide doors to the outside. From my spot in the District Eight chariot I can see the District One tributes' outfits slip off from the television sets lining the walls of the warehouse. Underneath the angel costume they wear black. The male is in a dark suit with a pitchfork in his left hand. The female wears a skimpy dress with a long pointed tail. How this relates to District One's industry, I'm not sure.
The crowd shrieks in awe. District One has already wowed them. The Capital will be rooting for these tributes simple because of their stylist.
My outfit isn't much- Bobbin and I wear white suits with patches slapped on at random. Nothing elaborate like District One. Nothing new. Nothing noticeable.
But maybe if Bobbin and I smile and wave and look wonderful the Capital will start to believe we are. After all, they aren't the brightest.
By now District Two has passed through the doors. The citizens cheer them on too, shouting the names of the tributes frantically.
District Three follows, carrying a tall female tribute with dagger eyes and a small male who doesn't have the presence she does. Most of the crowd cheers 'Valentina' over and over. I don't hear the boy's name.
In the District Four chariot holds another female built like a warrior. She keeps her head forward. She looks strong. The male with her appears nervous and a bit jittery.
District Five come next. I need to remember to be careful of them. Last year the District Five female won. The girl is pompous, grinning at the crowd as if they are her people. She looks like she belongs in the Capital, or seems to think so. The boy doesn't show much emotion so it's hard to read him. His stony eyes stare straight forward and ignore the crowd, although a small smirk appears on his face.
District Six comes galloping after. The girl waves to the crowd. The screen shows her mumble something to her District partner, but the microphones don't pick it up over the Capital's cheers. The girl looks confident without being arrogant. She has a likeable quality about her. The boy next to her smiles lightly and successfully catches a rose thrown at the chariot, bringing a roar from the crowd.
Bobbin and I are nearing the exit. My hands nervously tap the side of the chariot, stirring the black horses. Bobbin shoots me a look of pity.
"It'll be okay, Thorn. This is the easy part. They'll love you no matter what," She offers me a grin.
"Thanks," I reply over the Capital citizens. District Seven shoots through the exit with a pleasant-looking girl and a strong boy. The girl smiles and waves just like she's probably been told to. The boy grins happily. He even flexes.
Suddenly, our chariot is lurched forward, forcing me to lean over. Bobbin takes my hand and helps me recover. When we enter the chariot runway an explosion of cheering rushes to my ears. I close my eyes for a moment, blocking out the blinding light. I feel the sensation of motion. My stomach feels like it's filled with water.
Bobbin whispers to me, "Smile!" Oh, right… that's what I'm supposed to be doing. I open my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light, and give the surrounding crowd the biggest smile I can muster. I'm surrounded by color. The people. The outfits. Everything is colorful.
"THORN!" They cheer, encouraging me. I wave to the section that said my name. Crimson red roses fly at the chariot. Only a few make it far enough to Bobbin and I to land inside. I bend down and pick one up, waving it to the crowd. They roar.
So this is what it's like to be worshipped. Even if I ran off the reaping stage, even if I'm small, even if I'm fourteen; they still cheer me on. Is it weird that I'm enjoying this? Just this moment of happiness before I'm shipped off to the arena?
Four Malfoy The Candid
District Twelve is always last.
Last in the string of Districts.
Last chariot.
Last place.
So naturally, it's hard to keep my head up when it's always going to be pushed back down. I don't even get why the Capital even gives us a chance- not that I don't have hope for my District or myself. I know they don't believe in our strength.
Maybe one day District Twelve will show the Capital.
Sadly though, I don't think that will be soon.
My District partner, Will, and I are dressed per usual. Black dust covers our faces. We are supposed to look like miners. We even have faux pickaxes in our hands. Will and I don't speak much. It's like we have a mutual agreement not to bother each other with busy chatter. We don't hide the fact that we might kill each other by the end of the week.
District Nine plunges through the doors to the runway. Both its tributes are shown on the television screens on the walls. The girl smiles and waves like most, but her District partner keeps a stony expression, waving occasionally. I can tell the girl is afraid of him; she inches away from the boy.
District Ten goes next. The girl smiles, but doesn't wave. I notice her eyes are glazed over with a mystic fog- she's blind. The boy is very short. His face and body look mature, yet he appears to be 5 feet tall at the most.
Following is District Eleven with a smiling girl. The odd thing is, she actually look happy; unlike most tributes who put on a smile for the show. I remember her reaping- she volunteered. Not very smart. The boy next to her waves and smiles. Hi smile is hollow.
Finally, it is my turn- District Twelve's turn. My ears fill with the noise from the overwhelming crowd as we approach. I give them a small half-smile. I see Will wave to his side. Roses rain down on us. The whole chariot ride seems a blur.
By the end of the runway, our chariot jolts to a stop in-between Districts One and Eleven. The Girl from One gives me a snooty look. She's going down eventually. The chariots are arranged in a circle underneath the President's mansion. A long balcony protrudes from the house. The President himself stands before us.
The crowd still hasn't ceased the applaud, so the President gestures for them to stop.
"Welcome tributes!" He calls down to us. I don't like this. I'm not his puppet. He doesn't own me. "I'm glad to see you all made it to the parade," The Capital citizens laugh. "I am pleased to see that this year we have a strong group of tributes. For those who don't know, I am President Alefric," more laughter. "Now that introductions are behind us, I have an important announcement for all of you. In the arena this year we have a special surprise for you all, I can't wait to see your faces!"
…
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it
…
Questions: (You don't have to answer any! I'm just wondering what your thoughts are!)
Favorite Quote?
Favorite Tribute (besides your own)?
Biggest threat in the arena?
What do you think the surprise will be?
Who do you think will die first?
Should I reveal the sponsor points each chapter?
Okay, that's it… of course feel free to tell me any other thoughts you have!:D
GET YOUR PROMPTS IN BY THE INTERVIEW CHAPTER!