Chariot of Death

The door opens and I don't look up until the voice of my stylist reaches my ears.

"Hello, Olivia."

Ameile Morgan, the female Two stylist for the past twelve years. She has long, flowing brown hair with gold flecks threaded into it and her skin has a glowing silver tint to it. There are strange, but dazzling markings along her arms. She stands proudly and tall, reminding me very much of a warrior.

"You look pretty," I tell her. In a really weird way.

She smiles. "Thank you. Now, I know you're probably dying to get decent clothes on, but I need to see what I'm working with for myself. Candy described you as thin."

I smile wryly. "Yeah, I am. I couldn't play the sexy card if I wanted to."

"Not necessarily," Ameile objects. "I can make you someone every eligible man in Panem wants."

"Er, no thank you. I'm perfectly fine being studiously ignored by the males."

She laughs and motions for me to rise.

I stand up and slip the robe off. She circles me a few times, observing me carefully, and then finally she nods and tells me to put my robe back on and follow her. I do, carefully, and we head into a room. There are two blank walls, and the other two are made entirely of glass, giving us a beautiful view of part of the Capitol, pink and gold twisted spires rose up in the horizon, colourful people littered the street, buildings almost as large as the Nut are dotted about. I gasp.

"Nothing like Two, hmm?" Ameile guesses. I shake my head. "Well, if you win, you'll be spending plenty of time in the Capitol."

I smile and we sit down in two plush chairs. A table comes up with food on it and we eat swiftly in silence. Baked chicken breast with some tangy dressing over it, sliced oranges, chocolate dip and strawberries. We even ordered seconds of the chocolate dip and strawberries. Ameile laughs suddenly and points at my nose. I cross my eyes to see a dot of chocolate on it and I laugh, too. She hands me a napkin and I wipe the stuff off. Despite everything, I really like Ameile. She's every bit the Capitol woman my female stylists are- annoying and self-obsessed, but she seems like someone who could be a friend.

"So," Ameile says when she's eaten her fill. "As you know, tributes are always dressed to reflect their district industry. My partner, Daemon, and I agree you two simply don't look like you could pull off a 'miner' and be stunning, nor a peacekeeper, nor a hunk of stone. No offense, dear, but you just don't have the right type of beauty needed. To pull that off you'd need to be one of those girls who are drop dead stunning whereas you only have that sort of… natural beauty, and playing the sexy card. Which you aren't, am I right? Plus have you seen the outfits twelve always have? Hideous, so you can't be classed in the same category as them. So, we decided to focus on what your district produces, rather than the workers."

"What?" I ask, slightly confused. "I'm going to be dressed as a rock? But you just said-"

She laughs lightly and shakes her head.

"Every year for the games, District 2 produces," she says with a cheeky grin, "warriors."

A… warrior?

Three hours later I'm dressed in a slivery-grey unitard and armour. Yes, armour.

I wear a bright corset of beautiful armour with engravings of scales of luminous shades of dusty silver, augmented with mail and greaves and a beautifully decorated helm- set with dark opals and other precious gemstones- that hold back my flowing black hair. I wore a black cape trimmed with white which billowed from my shoulders.

A jewelled belt studded with the same dark opals was loosely wrapped around my slim waist, and gauntlets were on both my forearms which were stitched with silver thread.

Everywhere I move I glint and glimmer in the light.

I don't clang or anything, the armour doesn't make a sound when I move. It doesn't feel heavy or uncomfortable like I'm sure it did when people used to wear it.

Ameile has called Stephon, Flake and Candy in the room to help 'pull the outfit together'. Candy is painting all twenty of my nails a deep black flecked with silver, Flake is stencilling the same sort of symbols as Ameile on my hands in the same dusty black as the jewels all over my costume while Stephon expertly smudges dirt and grime on my face to look as if I've just left the battlefield. Stephon is also putting my makeup on, getting approval from Ameile after what feels like every stroke. Ameile herself is busy with my hair.

It's been covered in some spray and goo, washed, rewashed, and dried with care. Now she is curling it with some sort of hot pole-thing. When she finally puts the rod down, I sigh in relief. Too quickly, it seems. They start to busy themselves with threading long thin silver strings into my hair and making it wild and messy.

I wear no shoes except for the bare soles of the unitard.

My hands were empty, apart from my right hand, which from a distance appeared a single crimson glove. What it really was, was dripping blood coating my fingers and wrist.

"Alright, let me look at you one last time." Ameile says. She circles me. She stops in front of me and I see that her eyes are glistening with tears.

"You're so beautiful." she whispers.

I find myself nodding too as I reach up to touch- "Where is it?" I shriek, groping around my bare neck. "The necklace!" I say, my voice rippling with rage.

Stephon holds up Alec's necklace. "This thing?"

Ameile gasps and holds her hand out. Stephon places it in her palm obediently and my stylist examines it almost curiously. "This… this is-"

"My token." I say, almost defensively.

She frowns a bit and holds it up. Then she shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry, I can't. It doesn't match. But I'll take this to the board and get it cleared. I'll make sure it's your token."

Ameile tells me to close my eyes and she guides me over to the full-length mirror. When I open my eyes I do not see me. The creature in the mirror is from the proudest, most brutal depths shining with all of the beauty of the battleground. My armour shone with the slight dusting of ash over the bright metal, the carvings in my breastplate illuminated with a bright substance making the scales more prominent. My helm only covered part of my head, leaving my face completely free. Made of the same stuff as my armour was, the helm was studded with almost black opals with the same dusting over it. A leather belt hung with the same jewels and a ceremonious sword hung from the single strap. Its beauty was blinding, but I overpowered it. My face was ethereal; it did not belong to me. I was still the pale, red lipped girl with dark blue eyes. But now I was so much more. My eyes sparkled with an unknown incandescence. My arms were etched with beautiful, undecipherable battle markings, I was smeared with grime and dirt and yet… My dark hair glistened, the silver threads catching the light each way I turned. I was indescribable. I was incandescent. I do not belong in this room or in this city. I don't even belong in District 2. I belong in the battlefield. That is my home.

"I… I don't know what to say. I'm…"

"Beautiful?" Flake pipes.

I nod, still gaping at my reflection. Somehow these strange, eccentric people have managed to make walking out of a battle something beautiful. Even the districts won't be able to hate this. I was simply beautiful.

I say goodbye to my prep team and follow Ameile down the hall. The soft carpet feels nice and I'm glad that I'm not wearing proper shoes. We meet up with Theo and a man who has spiky blue hair and electric bolts stencilled into his skin. He looks like he is being electrocuted. I have to blink rapidly to adjust my eyes. Ameile and the man I know to be Daemon kiss each other's cheeks quickly. "You look stunning!" my stylist tells her partner.

I glance at Theo.

"Oh, he is remarkable!" She continues.

I turn my head to look at my partner fully. We do not look exactly the same, but we are defiantly from the same realm. He has on the same unitard and armor but his is a slightly different colour to mine and a bit more... Chunkier whereas mine is supposed to accent all my curves. The colour was more of bright silver. His bare skin is covered in stencilled marks and scars that look just as remarkable as the 'dirt' on his face. His eyes seem to glow, but I know that's just the makeup and lighting. His hair is all over the place, chaotic and unruly. His dark shaggy hair has the same silver thread in it as mine, which catches the light, making him look magnificent.

We look amazing.

Theo leans over and kisses my hand, careful to not to kiss the blood stained one. "You look exquisite tonight," his voice deep and husky.

He stares deep into my eyes, and before I can look any further I elbow him.

"Hey, no fighting another tribute, Olivia." He teases and I scowl.

"Get off me."

"Nah."

"Get the hell off me!"

"Hey, now that's no way to talk to the King of war."

"You're no king."

"Yes I am! And you're my queen!"

"Well this is no way to treat the Queen." I snap and push him off. He's unfazed and smiles lazily at me.

"Not fighting, I hope." Daemon drawls. His voice, in contrast to his static appearance, is surprisingly low for a Capitol man and very firm. I like Ameile better.

"No," I say quickly. I glance up at Theo and mutter, "King my ass! You're a warrior, idiot, just like me."

Daemon frowns, but then he shakes his head and motions for us to follow him. We ride the elevator down to the bottom floor and it opens into a huge stable. There are twelve different chariots lined up with two horses in the front of each. The chariots, and the horses themselves, are designed to reflect each district. District 1's chariot for example, is white studded with jewels.

I might be biased, but I think ours is the best.

Its light grey like the colour of stone with gold edges. The chariot has small intricate pictures on the side in sparkly black paint. At closer examination I see that they are pictures of death and destruction. The top and bottom rims are studded with darker rocks, as are the harnesses of our two, pure black horses

We look as if we're riding a chariot of death.

More and more people arrive and Theo stays where he is and beckons Distirct 4 over. I find myself drifting over to the siblings from 7. Sibylline and Hart.

They are alone excluding the others company, delicately stroking the horses. They're dressed as wood nymphs, hilarious tutus on both tributes.

They freeze when I approach.

I burst out laughing. Hart lowers his head but the girl glares reproachfully at me. I stop laughing and raise my eyebrows. She stares back at me and despite her defiance there is fear behind her eyes. She swallows.

"I'm sorry for laughing, but honestly the odds were not in your favour this year were they?" I say, my voice is condescending and brash.

Sibylline looks at me hatefully. I study the red head and assume her age is around 15, her brother 18.

"Why are you here?" Hart says, coming forwards at me.

I raise one eyebrow, like a dare. Hart lowers his gaze and backs off.

"So who is going to win then?" I ask Sibylline. "Is Hart going to sacrifice himself for you, or are you sacrificing yourself for him?"

"Don't kill me." She whispers.

"Nor me." Hart says. I smirk at them.

"Maybe. Maybe not..." I taunt.

"Well, we're going to die anyway so what does it matter?" Sibylline whispers, tears threatening to spill. "Please leave us alone." Then she winces as if she fears an outburst.

I nod, my heart tugging in a painful way and I curse myself for it. " Good luck." I say, a genuine smile on my lips. "Remember to smile and wave." I say helpfully. And then I whirl away, not looking back.

I trudge back and stop off at District 10, both kids dressed as unattractive cowboys, complete with a straw hat and some wheat stuffed in their pockets.

They're lucky to get some stuff from home.

The girl's hair is as thick as ever, and it covers half of her face so I don't know whether my presence scares her. The male, Cain, looks as determined as ever, his gaze on my approaching form a serious danger.

Yeah, I'm definitely killing him. I wonder if he's marked me as a kill too, or he's just not that kind of person to decide yet who he wants to murder. Shame. What a waste of talent.

"Hi guys!" I say cheerfully. Cain looks at me warily.

"Hello..."

"How are you? I just love your outfits, so original. Do you like mine? I just love it, it's so awesome don't'cha think and unfortunately Theodoros's is like identical but in like a different colour we look so cute. What's your district token? Is it that golden ring round your finger? It's just so gorgeous wish I had something like that back home! Do you think you'll win? I hope you don't because I don't want to die. I am so sorry Cain that you had to volunteer for your little bro, it would be such a shame to see a little kid die in such a brutal way, how are you handling it? And India your hair is to die for so thick and bushy, do you think you could use it as a shield, so awesome if you could this hair gel is like indestructible." I babble.

My simple vacant look disappears and is replaced with my eyes narrowing and an evil smirk playing on my lips.

"What? I haven't like, totally got something caught in my teeth do I?" I gasp falsely. Cain starts towards me, and I meet him halfway.

Placing my hand on his chest I delicately, but strongly, push him back with a little tsk.

His sour expression immediately turns to icy fear. India whispers, "Careers, coming our way." I turn to look and see all my allies striding towards me casually, but with a purpose. Theodoros leading them with an amused expression.

District one, Sunshine and Iowan's costumes, as far as I can see, is a full spectrum of transparent jewels sewn into a skin-tight unitard and his bare skin has sparkles all over it. District 1, luxury items, specifically jewels.

District four, Pisces and Clio are dressed up as beautiful sea creatures. Half human, half fish. They did sort of look beautiful, their skin pearly and their tails bright green, but neither of their faces was entirely special.

"Liv, I came to see where you wandered off to." Iowan says as they reach us.

My blood boils and I almost can't resist the urge to slap him. "It's nice to meet you, too, Iowan. I feel like we already know one another. Thanks for caring. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

He scowls at me and I roll my eyes.

"The Livestock District, Olivia? Are your standards so low you're considering them as allies?" Iowan asks as we all walk back to District Two chariot. We all walk one big, menacing cluster, glaring at anyone who gets too close. Iowan and I in the lead, Pisces and Clio on either side of Theo, Sunshine, looking as miserable and moody as ever lagging behind, saving her super death glare for the tributes not in our alliance.

"Don't speak to me that way, Iowan." I stop in my tracks and he turns to face me, stunned. "At least they don't walk around like they own Panem. You're just as much a tribute as they are."

The tributes near us laugh quietly. District 8. One growl from Clio makes them quickly fall silent and look away.

"Something funny?" Pisces asks threateningly.

They don't respond.

Iowan, Pisces and Riley walk closer and the blonde presses herself against the side of the surly looking lad. He looks annoyed but doesn't push her away. They're both dressed in elegant, flowing, multi coloured robes, probably symbolizing all the textiles their district produces.

"Awh, is little Cotton all scared?" Iowan asks, smirking.

"What a stupid name." She remarks, loud enough for Cotton to actually hear.

"Not as stupid as the guys." Sunshine says, joining our little huddle, her voice deep and with a harsh edge to it. "It's Kingsley. Who does he think he is, walking round with a name like that? He chose it himself you know." I raise my eyebrow at Goth girl. She nods to my unspoken question. "My escort found out." She said with a shrug.

Clio snorts. "What a splashing freak."

I turn back to the boys and District 8 to see them all watching us. Iowan, noticing we're done, turns his face back to Kingsley.

"Hiding behind your King, little girl?" Iowan sneers. "He won't save you in the arena. I'll make sure of it."

I give Theo a pointed look and he grins. King of war- what an idiot.

Cotton's lip quivers and she looks ready to cry. Kingsley looks furious and pushes her behind him and steps towards Iowan, Pisces and Theo with his hands balled into fists. "Leave her alone."

"You seem to have a soft spot for little girls." Iowan grins wickedly. "Speaking of girls, I wonder how your girlfriend will react when she watches me kill you."

Kingsley face turns red out of anger almost instantly, but he doesn't take the bait. Smart guy. "Leave. Her. Alone." He repeats firmly.

Theo smirks. "Or what?"

Getting fed up, I barge past Theo and Pisces and stand next to Iowan.

"Just come on, big boy." I tug on Iowan's arm. Kingley has already marked himself as a target of Iowan's rage. I barely know either of these boys, but I'm sure Iowan's particular attention is something Kingsley doesn't want. Cotton, too, is at risk for a painful death. Iowan seems like the type of boy who'll punish someone by making another suffer. "The factory district isn't worth it."

He smirks a bit and surveys the mismatched tributes again. "Obviously."

He holds out his arm. I loop mine through his and we march away. I wouldn't mind stabbing this arrogant boy, but I'll have to wait. Patience, Olivia.

Once again, the others follow.

By now all the other tributes have arrived so we all just hang around my chariot and get to know each other.

Sunshine isn't exactly cheerful, but she's good at having a conversation. She's actually quite pretty with her hair scraped back, if it wasn't for that stony expression.

Clio was nasty. Really nasty. To the other tributes. To everyone in our alliance she was such a sweetheart. Clio is every bit the seductress that she appears to be. She keeps batting her eyelashes at Theo who seems very uncomfortable with it and fidgets ridiculously whenever she looks over at him. Which I found strange as I could easily imagine him drooling all over her.

Pisces is a joker, and is always having a laugh. The other districts are mainly the subject of his jokes, and they're not always very kind.

And Iowan is Iowan. A cocky brute.

"I like your armour." Clio tells me. "Definitely makes you and Theo look tough. Sponsors will love that!" She says.

"Not too bad yourself." I say with a smirk. "The outfits really pretty, you'll pull some sponsors too." Clio flashes a dashing smile.

"I wish my stylist was more original. I mean rainbow jewels? Couldn't he be more creative? Like, not rainbow? Like, I don't know, black?" Sunshine says.

Clio and I laugh. "Totally," Clio agrees. "But I look sexy," she turns to Theodoros. "Don't you think?"

A faint blush is creeping up under Theo's makeup and he looks so uncomfortable he might explode. "Um… yeah."

Clio smiles.

"Do that more often." I whisper to Clio. "I like to watch him squirm." I say mockingly.

Six stylists including Daemon and Ameile come over and guide us towards our chariots. I protest when Theo pushes past me and climbs into the chariot. I have half a mind to shove him out the chariot when it starts rolling and hopefully he'll get run over by another chariot, but when he leans down and offers me his hand, that notion goes out the door and I almost feel bad for it. He smiles as I take it and he helps me into the carriage.

"Ok, you two." Daemon claps his hands quickly. "Remember, the crowd loves you already! Smile, wave, make them adore you!"

No kidding. I think, but I smile and thank him for the advice.

I yelp when tremendous cheering suddenly hits our ears. Theo's hand on the small of my back calms me down and he points to the doors that have just opened in front of us. Under normal circumstances I would've torn his arm off, but instead it calms me, which is odd because normally any physical contact with someone I barely know would've gotten their neck snapped. I smile and sigh. Ameile hops onto the chariot quickly to straighten our outfits and move my hair just right, and dips my right hand in a fresh coat of blood. She barely hops off in time. The horses pulling our carriage start forward the moment her feet touch the ground.

These horses are so well trained that no one even has to guide them. I trust them.

District 1 heads out the door and the cheering grows louder. District 1: luxury items. Always a crowd favourite.

As we roll out the doors behind Sunshine and Iowan Theo takes his hand off my back and I mentally steel myself for what's about to come. Then we round the corner and we're out of the Remake Centre and in the streets of the Capitol.

The noise increases drastically and it stuns me for a second. But then after a breathless laugh of surprise, I'm smirking and brooding and occasionally giving a sarcastic wiggle of my fingers to the hundreds of citizens that line the streets and the windows. They scream and wave, blowing kisses and throwing flowers. Some people call out to us, some chant our names. Some keep chanting for our predecessors and those behind us. I wave with my right hand, and the still wet blood dribbles from my fingers and makes its way downs my arm. I look down into the crowd, smiling broadly. There, in the front, held back by the rail, is the little girl with the neon eyes who had run beside the train. Clutched in her hand is shiny metal box. She waves it over her head. I wave back, smiling. Her face saddens a bit as we roll past her. I wonder if she'd intended on throwing the object. That would seriously hurt if it whacked me on the head.

We arrive in the City Circle and the carriages stop. Though twilight is quickly stretching into night, the city is as bright as day. Only the darkening sky betrays the actual time. How do these people sleep with lights shining in from all around? In District 2 all unnecessary outside lights go off at a certain time so people can get sleep for the working day ahead. The power never goes out at home, but we don't often use it. We prefer fire light. Even our street lamps are flickering lantern sort things. The power never goes out here. I wonder if these people even know what true darkness really is. Or silence.

The anthem blares over the speakers as all the carriages slow to a stop. I waited for President Snow to finish his little pep-talk and resisted the urge to run up to him and smack his head against the podium until his head bleeds. Better yet, until he stops moving. He was making innocent children die and he was watching it. He's making me kill innocent children, when really I should be killing him.

I want to kill the children, but Snow's death sounds slightly more fun.

I smiled slightly at the thought of Snow's blood coating the podium. Theo glanced my way and I quickly wiped the smile off my face. I hope he didn't see it. He might think I'm deranged. I realize I haven't been paying attention when the anthem blares over the speakers again and we begin the final leg of our journey into the Training Centre. For twenty-three of us on the carriages, it is the last time we'll be outside of the Centre. Except, of course, for the arena itself.

But, then again, who knows if the arenas really are outdoors at all?

When we arrive, Theo helps me down as he continues his gentleman role and we're greeted by our ecstatic prep teams then whisked upstairs on fast, clear glass elevators to the second floor. May walks me to my room and leaves me to my own devices.

The room is grander than my room on the train in every way and it makes my room back home seem like something that belongs in District 11. It consists of one giant bed chamber, a dressing room and the most luxurious bathroom any one person could imagine.

In the main bedroom there is a huge four poster bed adorned with dark purple velvet sheets, a TV so big I have to turn my head to see the other end of it, fancy plush sofas and chairs. A mini fridge sits in the corner, full of different beverages from vodka to orange juice. The dressing room was bigger than my entire room back home. An electronic panel on the wall brought forth different categories of clothing ie dinner wear, training gear, sleepwear, underwear etc. It was amazing. I spent a good 42 minutes 56 seconds just browsing the vast range of clothes. The bathroom had a bath the size of a small swimming pool, a fountain in the middle that released all sorts of soaps and oils into the water. A lever at the side to pull down a shower head. The toilet looked like a throne. And upon further insepction I discovered a little side room that held a huge gorgeous vanity. Looking in all the drawers I found all types of beautification items: makeup, nail varnish, perfume, hair curlers and straighteners, and multiple creams to fix my complexion if I so needed.

I was in female heaven.

I would honestly win just to live this life of luxury.

It takes me a while to take off all the armor.

I take the most relaxing bath in the entire world, getting rid of all the toxins from earlier with this vanilla smelling gritty soap. Bubbles were filled up to my ears of the most delicious berry smell that I was tempted to taste. I emerged smelling like something I'd never smelt before. Despite the luxury of it all, I still missed my earthy smell.

After my bath I put on a black dress with silver threat sewn into swirls and patterns from the dinner wear section and walk down to dinner. All the talk is about our costumes. Ameile tells us we were spectacular and while most costumes are just a remake of a costume from years ago, ours is something no one's ever seen. Daemon grumbles about District 12 and District 4 catching a few eyes.

Brutus growls at everyone and warns us that if our training scores don't impress people we're basically dead.

After dinner we head into the lounge and watch the recap of the Ceremonies. I can see what Ameile meant. District 1 glittered, District 4 shined.

We didn't glow or shimmer like our allies, we gleamed. The lights reflected off our amour and gave the impression that we were giving off an aura of power. Like the light bent to our will. We truly looked out of this world. We were ethereal. We were not humans. We were creatures of war. Creatures of pain, destruction and death.

Creatures of beauty.

I didn't look like me. Well, I did, but I didn't act like me.

With my cape billowing out behind me it reminded me of a looming storm front.

The me but not me was beautiful and terrible, like a frightful goddess of war.

We stood tall and proud, high and mighty. It truly did look as if Theo and I had just stepped out of a battle and won.

We looked amazing, beautiful, powerful, and most of all, brutal.

I had never encountered myself wearing such an implacable determination and ruthlessness expression.

Our faces were illuminated with ferocity and power. We were magnificent.

Very few of the other districts made a big impression. District 7's trees looked a bit shiny. And, of course, District 12 had a dark mystery about them.

When the show is over Theo and I are sent to bed. I pull on a white t-shirt and red shorts before crawling into the extremely comfy bed.