Foxx's A/N: Obviously, since you've read up to this chapter, you do like our story some-what. Or else you're a creepy fifty-year-old pedo stalker. If that's the case, then you are unwanted. Leave, now. Other than that, enjoy the chapter and don't forget to review! Love your friendy, Let The Foxx Fly. xo
PS, Don't request for any violence from Subject Matter, I'd rather leave Subject waiting. Thank yous, greatly appreciated ;)
Subject's A/N: If you can read this, you have come the right place! It also means you have a brain and can read. Hoepfully. It would also be advised that you ARE NOT an alien. You are most likely being chased by the US army. Read, review, and request for SOME violence. Pretty please?
~SFSFSF~
Chapter 5 - Skinned Alive By Stylists, Derryl's POV
I woke up the next morning not remembering when I had fallen asleep, but I managed to stumble out of bed and hit the showers. A panel unlike any I had ever seen was embedded into to the white bathroom tile, and I managed to hit a few buttons. I let out a surprised scream as ice-cold water splattered out from the shower head. How the fudge do you work this thing?
I obviously chose the wrong expletive, because the next time I hit the panel, soapy foam seeped out from a dispenser against the wall. Giggling my ass off, I managed to turn the cold water off. After a series of trail-and-errors, I managed to get a gentle flow of warm water, finally washing away the remains of sleep on my face.
Relaxing under the torrent, I took some time to organize my thoughts. Okay, so yesterday I was reaped, got intimidated by a twelve-year-old, managed to piss off my only mentor, planned to blatantly disobey orders, got my face shown on TV across Panem, and I was fooled by a bathroom panel. Figuring that was the gist of it, I stepped out of the shower after being successfully pruned, and dried myself off with a towel so fluffy I was lost in it. I sighed, fluff is such a girly thing to put in a male tribute's bathroom.
A knock on the door followed by Bevan's voice alerted me, "Get up, breakfast has been out for twenty minutes!" I smirked, taking delight in imagining all the different ways to piss Bevan off to the extent he will explode in a burst of anger.
I hastily walked over to the closet, and grabbed a simple emerald green shirt and some black shorts. I strolled out of my room, taking my own time. In leaving my room. When I finally arrived in the dining area, my jaw hit the floor at the vast array of food that lay before me. Meats, drinks, cereals, breads, there was a huge helping of everything. Everyone glared at me when I took my seat, but I ignored them. Do you think you could beat my step-family in that category?
I just smirked at Bevan, enjoying the lovely shade of purple his skin turned. Smirking seemed to become quite a habit of mine.
"Sit down and eat," Bevan said strictly. I wasn't going to complain, I wasn't planning on starving myself. I grabbed a plate and loaded everything from porridge to croissants onto it. I dug in, forgetting the art of table manners and instead opting to inhale everything.
When my stomach felt like it would burst, I finally put my fork down, decidedly having eaten enough. I glanced across the table at Sasha, who was still ravishing the food that was towering on her plate. Where did she get all the space to fit it all? Beatrice gaped at the two of us, obviously disgusted at our bad manners. Her face had even turned a delicate shade of green. I took an orange slice and jammed it into my mouth, grinning at her like an idiot. She practically gagged at the display.
"We've already discussed this with Sasha, but now that you're here, Derryl, we need to tell you about your stylists whom you will soon meet," Rosalina said softly, looking up from her now empty plate. "These stylists will be getting to know every inch of your bodies, as they will be personally defining each of your looks. Do whatever they ask you to do. You will need it for the opening ceremonies. This goes for both of you," she said, nodding towards Sasha as well, and directing a pointed glare at me.
"As soon as you're both done, you can get off the train and enter the building to your right. There you will meet your stylists on the fourth floor," Bevan said, picking at a bread roll. I was surprised when he said we could get off of the train, I hadn't realized that we stopped. "Yes, that's right," Bevan said to me as if reading my thoughts, "you slept in so late that you didn't even realise the train stopping in at the station."
I swallowed back all of the sarcastic retorts that bubble to my lips and pushed backwards from the table, striding through the train door without a look back.
When I hit the station, I immediately turned to the right, burst through the double doors, and smashed the elevator button, my fury coming out in bursts. As the elevator doors were closing, Sasha slipped in between them and stood next to me, silently fuming as well. We rode up in silence, and I realized how much shorter she was, compared to me. She barely reached my shoulder. Determined not to break the silence, I disembarked from the elevator as fast as I could. I looked left and right at the doors until I saw the one with a simple engraving on it. Stylists. I strode through the door, not caring to knock, and I almost stepped on a minuscule man, who hastily picked himself up off the floor. He quickly grasped my hand and led me to another door to the right, titled Male, walking with me silently, as if I needed a chaperon.
Suddenly I was greeted by a flash of colour. Three equally rainbow-died people welcomed me, presumably my stylists. The first was a girl of small stature and an eccentric clown-like wig of colours, blazing out like an Afro of sorts. The second was a man who appeared to be quite old, but any signs of age obviously shrugged off by plastic surgery. His eyes were died white to the pupil, which was eerily creepy, and his skin an odd shade of green. The last was also a man, but he was very young, early twenties would be my guess, and seemed the most sane out of the three.
"Welcome!" said the girl cheerily, with a high-pitched voice. "We're you're stylist crew! I'm Vaniqua, this here," she said, gesturing to the older man, "Is Tobias, and this young fellow, our newest member, is Zeek."
They didn't give me any time at all to reply and I was suddenly bombarded with a series of scratching, yanking, and pulling at the hairs on my body. They, thankfully, didn't take all of them, just a large portion on my neck and chest. I was twitching from the constant action, and the rest of my clothes were suddenly removed off my body (Subject's A/N: Such a big chance! D:), and my cheeks flushed red, embarrassed at standing stark naked before the group of strangers. They didn't leave any room for modesty, and I was suddenly dunked into a bath of balms, creams, and lotions until my skin literally glowed.
"You need to see your actual stylist, now that you're prepared." Vaniqua jumped in, handing me a robe made of paper to cover myself. I sighed in relief. Finally the torture has ended, I thought I was going to be skinned alive.
The three quickly fled the room, and I sat in anticipation for this new person who would be dictating every part of my visual appearance.
The double doors opened up with a prolonged creak, followed by a tall woman who walked with grace and held an elegant poise. She looked almost normal, with barely any Capitol enhancements. Her brown hair was held in a loose bun, and her eyes reminded me of the deep blue before the darkest night.
"My name is Honey." She spoke with a resounding voice that echoed multiple times around the room. I found myself fascinated by her stance. She was beautiful, I had to admit, and that's saying something considering she's from the Capitol. I had to shake my head to get rid of the thoughts and focus on the matter at hand.
"So what outfit are you dressing me up in for the opening ceremonies this year?" I asked as Honey did some last minute prodding and plucking her crew must have missed.
"We have quite an idea for you. What do you think of seaweed?" She asked, a glint of amusement in her eyes
I paused at the thought. "Seaweed?" I gulped. I wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing, noting the many different possible outcomes.
"Yes, seaweed." And with that I trembled, nervous and worried I would be dressed up as one massive string of seaweed.
Foxx's A/N: Lalala, SEAWEED! Don't you just love seaweed? There's so many things one can do with seaweed. So many things... *starts laughing hysterically*, anyways, review! You know we love you ;)
Subject's A/N: Yessums! I am in fact your resident pervert. Seaweed is going to be FUN! I'm almost drooling at the thought. Press that magic button on the bottom. NOW! This was meant to go out a day ago but, silly me, I forgot!