This story will be on yet another hiatus for two weeks, starting Thursday. This will most likely be the last update before then.

Fun Fact of the Chapter: Jacy Latone's reaping chapter is titled "Rebellious Silence". This also happens to be the title of a chapter of the SYOT An Unsung Song: The Tale of the 405th Hunger Games, by RueofDistrict11, narrated by a character that I created, who is mute.

…..

Emily Raine, District One

"Ohemgee!" squeals one of the prep team members as she leads me into the room. "We were, like, so excited to work with someone as—let's face it—good-looking as you! And rich! And trained! 'Gee, I pity the poor souls that have to work with that boy from Two—or, God forbid, that boy from Six! Or anyone from the lesser districts! Honestly!"

While she continues chattering, another woman slides up to me and coos, "You're perfect, honey."

I swallow and crease my brow. "Um, thanks."

The woman—Amica, I think her name is—nods in reply and leads me over to the styling chair. The first woman continues, running her fingers through my hair, "I don't even think we have much to do for you. You're perfectly styled already. Should we just call in Tarquin?"

Cly, the man standing by the makeup counter, shakes his head. "And miss the chance to work with this amazing tribute? I think not." He gives me a wink, which makes me shrink back a little. Butterfly mode, Emily. Butterfly mode. I picture myself back in District One, being flirty and outgoing, and soon I feel fine, chatting with these people. Well, almost fine. But there's no time to dwell on that now.

The first woman, Dot, brushes out my hair and curls it into an elegant golden spiral. Cly paints my fingernails and toenails while Amica makes sure that I have no leg hair left, and applies coats of makeup to my face. We talk about District One and the Capitol and fashion and, occasionally, the Games.

The Games.

Fear sinks back into me as I think about the days ahead. But then I take in a few breaths and remind myself that Spark is here to look out for me and that I'm prepared and that I've got an edge because of my looks and that I should be happy, because so many girl from One dream of being in my position and... and...

After a short time, the prep team deems me "gorgeous" and allows my stylist, Tarquin, to come in. He beams as soon as he sees me, and holds up a fitted gold-and-diamond dress on a hanger.

"You're gonna be stellar out there, darling. More than I could ever have hoped for."

I glance at my reflection in the mirror and sigh.

…..

Riley Rynne, District Twelve

"Oh... my... what the... but..." This is the reaction of my prep team upon seeing me.

I'm confused for a moment, but then it hits me. The scars. They must look horribly grotesque, especially the new ones. These Capitol people—they couldn't have had any way of knowing...

"Well," one finally says, stepping forward, "your costume will probably cover most of them. I don't think it'll be much of a problem." The other two nod emphatically and move toward me, bringing me over to the styling chair and getting to work. They do my hair, put makeup on my face, paint my nails—but they don't touch my body. They still seem horrified, just trying to wrap their heads around it.

I look into one of their eyes and smile apologetically. They're just like children, in a way. Naïve. They don't know pain or hurt, just like they can't realize how inhumane the Hunger Games are. Clueless, in an almost sympathetic way.

Well, I can't afford to have sympathy for them. I'm about to fight for my life, and they're helping it along. Without even knowing. Which makes it hurt all the worse.

Fortunately, I'm used to pain.

Confident, confident, confident.

…..

Carreen Haggerty, District Four

Clute, my stylist, makes some final adjustments to my costume and my makeup, and then brings me down to the area where the chariots are waiting. A few other tributes have gathered there, including the ones from One and Two. I give Gabriel a quick nod and we walk over to join our future alliance, standing next to the District Two chariot.

"Hey," says Emily from One, turning to face us. Even though she's related to a bunch of victors, she just strikes me as unprepared. However, I probably shouldn't underestimate her, even though she is all of fourteen years old.

"Hey," Gabriel says in return, smiling slightly as if thinking of something amusing. I'm not quite sure what to make of this. Although we gained each other's respect on the train ride and agreed to an extra alliance, he seems almost... not mocking the Careers, something slightly less arrogant than that. As if he doesn't plan to get involved with the rest of them.

Marius, from Two, looks us over while his district partner grins. "This is going to be so exciting, guys!" Emerald Honeycomb also seems unprepared, although in a less... honest way than Emily. It might just be her age, but she's radiating overconfidence and eagerness. Maybe she's just vicious—Marius seems slightly wary of her.

"D'you think there's anyone else we should consider for the Careers?" asks Marius gruffly. Everything about him seems gruff. "Any of the others, I mean. The strong ones."

I shake my head. "Let's wait until training to decide that. I've seen many strong-looking others whose lack of training made them fall quickly. In previous Games."

Marius nods, and the boy next to him—Luka, from One—smirks. "It's not like we couldn't strike them down at the Cornucopia before they become liabilities to our alliance," he points out. He's smaller than Marius, Gabriel and even some of the other tributes, but he looks trained, with quick reflexes and wiry muscles. Luka seems incredibly sneaky and vicious, if not downright sadistic. One of the crazy tributes, then. Better look out for him.

"It's still too early to make those decisions," I repeat in an unusually cold voice, trying to analyze what possible weaknesses this boy could have.

We talk a little bit more, and then an announcement blares from the speakers: "Tributes should be getting on their chariots; the procession will start in five minutes. Five minutes until the procession starts." The announcer has less of a Capitol accent than most.

"Well, we'd best be off," Luka says with a grin, nodding his head towards his chariot at the front of the line, and he and Emily break off. Gabriel and I walk back to our own chariot, which is decorated with little moving waves to match our costumes.

"Impressions?" I say to him once the others are out of earshot.

Gabriel chuckles under his breath. "No wonder the Capitol likes Careers. They're so interesting to watch, especially when they have to work together." He looks up at me. "You ready for the crowds?"

…..

Yon Trizzle, District Eight

Our chariot rolls out into the city. I wonder if my dad is actually in the crowd, watching. I wonder if I'll actually see him.

Our costumes are decent but not amazing. Parker is wearing a velvet dress that must be awfully hot to wear in the summer; I am wearing a nice suit made of some other kind of fabric. Stylists aren't very creative when it comes to District Eight—not that I would know the first thing about creativity.

I look around at the other tributes. District Ten is just pulling out of the gate, dressed as stereotypical farmers in cow-patterned vests. The blind boy is wearing sunglasses and carrying a cane, just like he did in the Reaping.

"Yon!" someone—a man—calls from the sidelines. "Yon! Yon Trizzle!"

I recognize it as my father's voice, and turn to glance at him. He's standing near the front of the crowd, with a Capitol woman's arm draped around him. His face looks almost embarrassed.

I wave back at him and wonder what he's been doing for a moment before President Shadow comes up to the podium and begins her speech.

"People of Panem, this marks the one hundred and ninety-first anniversary of the defeat of the first rebels and the end of the Dark Days. May we never forget the cruelty and horrors of the past, and look towards a brighter future: without war, without needless destruction, and without rebellion. The key to peace and order is in our hands, as long as we preserve the balance." She pauses, looking down at the tributes circling around the City Circle. "To these tributes, and to all of this country: good luck, and good night. Tonight, the Hunger Games begin."