Beta-read by gkmoberg1

Circus by Britney Spears

All eyes on me in the center of the ring

Just like a Circus

When I crack that whip, everybody gonna trip

Don't stand there watching me, follow me

Show me what you can do

Chapter 12

Winnow had been sitting in Artemisia's prep chair for nearly five hours. First, Phedre and Pandora had repeated the procedure from the first time they had met – buffing and waxing her body to perfection.

Then Artemisia entered and began to curl and arrange Winnow's hair to her liking before starting on make-up. After that came the nails. Phedre and Pandora had left after the skin treatments. Winnow asked why the two were excused, but Artemisia only told her that she preferred to do the work herself. Artemisia told Winnow that she would be the only one responsible for the masterpiece she expected to produce.

Winnow's hair was parted perfectly down the middle and gathered into a low ponytail on her left; before the long tendrils emerging from the ponytail curled into loose ringlets. Artemisia painted her nails a harsh purple that was nearly black. "Can all of this… be removed? Before tomorrow?" she asked.

Artemisia glanced up from placing tiny gold flecks onto the still-wet polish. "Yes, of course, Winnow. But some tributes like to be made up before going into the arena. We even have a new type of make-up that will last the whole time you're in there," Artemisia replied.

Winnow shook her head. "No, the Hunger Games aren't glamorous, Artemisia. They're rough and gritty and that's what I'll be too." she responded, her gaze shifting from her wispy stylist to the plain white wall in front of her.

"As you wish." the red-haired woman said, returning her attention to Winnow's nails. "I think that suits you much better anyway,"

Winnow glanced back to her stylist to give her a slight smile before her gaze slid away again. When Artemisia finished with the nails, she shifted to make-up and spent much more time on it this time around than when her make-up had been done for the Parade.

She was curious to see what Artemisia produced by the time the stylist set down her brush for the final time – but the stylist spared no time to show her face, but instead Artemisia moved directly to get Winnow into the dress that she had prepared.

All Winnow could see was a slinky material that consisted of black and gold as Artemisia brandished it at her. Artemisia helped her into the skin-tight dress that slid over her body like a sleeve. "I've never worn anything so tight," Winnow uttered, breathless as Artemisia yanked the zipper up her back.

"Well, you've never looked this good, Winnow." Artemisia retorted, kneeling to help Winnow put on a pair of sky-high black spiked heels. The stylist stood and straightened – now towered over by her tribute and turned Winnow to see her reflection in the mirror.

Winnow's dress was black and completely skin-tight, molding to her every curve with a plunging neckline that ended just above her belly-button. The front of the dress from her bust to hips was covered with gold beading in the shape of stylized tear drops – and all of her bare skin was covered with a black sheer fabric.

Her make-up was so very dark compared to the natural look she wore before- her lips were painted a nearly black-purple identical to her nails. Her eyes were lined heavily on her top lid with dark eyeshadow, making her eyes look smoky. Winnow's eyelashes were thick and dark – longer than she had ever seen them. Even her eyebrows had been combed, trimmed and shaded in to perfection.

She looked deadly and dangerous – the darker side of the sea goddess Finnick wanted her to be. Winnow was the crashing waves and the currents that would pull ships under the water – never to be seen again.

As Winnow looked at herself in the mirror, Artemisia brought her two final items to put on. The first was a pair of dark, dangly earrings that the stylist allowed Winnow to put on herself. The second was Cato's ring on a gold chain.

This Artemisia had Winnow bend down so she could put it around the tribute's neck then, the stylist tucked the chain under Winnow's dress. It hung the perfect length down - between Winnow's breasts, completely visible through the black sheer fabric. "There – you're flawless." Artemisia said.

"I am," Winnow confirmed – smirking at her reflection before turning to her stylist. "Can I sit? These heels already hurt and I don't want sore feet tomorrow," she requested.

"Oh, yes! Just let me get Finnick first!" Artemisia agreed – running for the door.

Winnow sighed – turning back to the reflection in the long mirror. She really was tall with the heels on– a true Amazon – with the heels on. She was sure she would match Cato's height if she were to stand beside him. She was perfectly dark and glamorous – the ring hanging between her breasts providing a sentimental edge.

She glanced back as she heard the door click. Finnick strode towards her with purpose – not actually looking at her until he stood right before her. "Oh, wow…" he uttered, his jaw hanging. "Artemisia is a godsend," he continued, clasping his hands and sending his eyes skyward.

Winnow rolled her eyes – dismounting the little podium and circling Finnick. "So what do you think, big brother?" she asked with a teasing tone.

Finnick smiled at her words nonetheless, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You're tall. Oh so very tall," he remarked. His words drew her attention to the fact that she was a few inches taller than him with the heels . He took her hand and guided her to a couch near the door. "You look exactly like the goddess of the sea I asked Artemisia for," he said.

"And very beautiful, little sister," Finnick added unexpectedly, nudging her chin gently with his fist. He had to be careful with her make-up – or Artemisia would rain hell upon him. Winnow grinned at him, leaning and removing the heels off for the moment. "I'd put those back on before Artie gets back if I were you," He warned.

"Artie?" Winnow smothered a giggle.

"Well, yeah," Finnick said, mussing his hair with a hand raking through it. "Artemisia's a mouthful, isn't it? She doesn't really like Artie, but I don't mind…"

Winnow couldn't hold back her glee any longer – launching into a full-bellied laugh that made her stomach hurt. "I like it too." she managed to get out between giggles. Finnick was grinning at her – oh so proud of himself for making her laugh so hard. "So do you have any last words of advice before I go on stage?" she asked.

Finnick nodded. "I'm sure it's only stuff you've heard before. You're a goddess of the sea, Winnow. You're tumultuous. The Capitol has seen your lighter side at the parade, but tonight…you're wicked. Wicked and merciful." he explained.

Winnow nodded slowly as she processed his words. "I know exactly what to say."

Finnick raised an eyebrow. "Do tell," he prompted.

"Well…"

"Winnow Fontanne of District Four!" Caesar Flickerman's voice boomed over the crowd.

Winnow took a deep breath before putting one foot in front of the other and walking on stage. Again, she was careful to take slow and graceful steps – and her dress only added to what she hoped was a predatory, catlike stride.

The blue-haired man met her half-way across the stage – grinning with his excessively bleached teeth – shaking her hand vigorously before laying a kiss on the back of her hand.

Winnow settled in the chair opposite the host – her body loose and relaxed. "Winnow, Winnow, Winnow… we've been so looking forward to meeting you," Caesar greeted excitedly, reaching over to shake Winnow's hand again.

"The pleasure is all mine, Caesar," Winnow said with a smile.

Caesar grinned wider- if it were possible. "Oh, my dear…that dress, it's borderline sinful," he crowed – the audience cheering loudly in agreement.

Winnow let a small smirk curve on her generous lips. "Aren't we all, Caesar?" she responded tritely.

The older man let out a booming laugh. "Touché, my dear. But really, you look outrageously, impossibly beautiful,"

Winnow let out a laugh. "Coming from you, Caesar, I take that as the highest form of praise." she spoke with a haughty shake of her perfectly coiffed hair.

As Caesar held his hand to his heart – as if it beat out of control at the very sight of her – Winnow realized that this was what they wanted. They wanted her to play this game of hidden intentions and two-faced affection. This, Winnow could do. If the Capitol and their citizens wanted to devour up every veiled word, every acid-dripping utterance that Winnow could provide…she would not stop them.

"So, Winnow…your mentor is the very handsome, very sought-after Finnick Odair…" Caesar remarked. Winnow nodded in confirmation. "How is that?" Caesar asked – a look of fascination painted on his features.

Winnow smiled, looking down at her hands. "He's just like a brother to me, Caesar. If I'm honest, Finnick is annoying and far too protective. Just like a brother." she said brightly. "It's lovely," she added – looking up at the crowd. The women were sighing and fanning themselves at the very mention of Finnick and it sickened her – especially knowing they could throw their money around and actually have Finnick for a night if they wished.

"Finnick had you dressed and portraying a goddess of the sea. Other than the obvious factor of being a native of District 4…can you tell me why Finnick wanted you portrayed this way?" Caesar asked.

"Of course I can, Caesar," Winnow confirmed, a smirk spreading onto her lips. "It's because I'm tumultuous,"

"Tumultuous?" Caesar asked with an exaggerated furrow of his brows.

"It means I can be wicked and merciful. When I feel like it, I can be merciful. And when I feel wicked – I can be oh so very wicked indeed." Winnow explained with a more dangerous expression of pride showing on her features.

"Oh, I believe it." Caesar added – the audience shouting their agreement. "So, Winnow, there's something we're all dying to know…" he trailed off dramatically – but not without giving Winnow a chance to interject. "I have been hearing stirrings."

"Stirrings?" Winnow asked in faux confusion.

"Oh, yes," Caesar gushed. "That you and a certain District 2 tribute have been very friendly," Winnow blushed at Caesar's words.

"Cato has been very friendly," she answered, leaning forward in her seat – a secret smile on her lips that made the audience grow louder in their clapping and cheering.

"Oh! And what is that – a ring!" Caesar shouted excitedly - the ring hung freely from the dress where it had been tucked.

Winnow blushed with expertly-faked embarrassment, tucking it beneath her dress and covering it with her hand. "I didn't have a token from home…so Cato gave me one." she said softly – her eyes lowering to the floor.

"Young love, Panem!" Caesar crowed, throwing a hand in Winnow's direction – the audience growing almost unbearably lod.

"So you're a fighter," he then said quietly – forcing the audience to quiet in order to hear him.

Winnow smirked. "Oh yes, Caesar." she answered.

"You're ready?" Caesar prompted.

"And unafraid." Winnow said.

"WINNOW FONTANNE!" Caesar's voice boomed – jumping from his seat. He offered Winnow a hand to help her to her feet. She took it, gracefully coming to her feet- much taller than him. "Good luck, my dear," he murmured before gesturing for her to leave the stage.

Winnow grinned and waved to the crowd before sauntering off the stage. On the opposite side of the stage that Winnow had entered on – Mags stood waiting for her. The old woman's eyes misty with tears.

Her wrinkled and arthritic hands pulled Winnow into an embrace and so her ear was next to Mags' mouth. Winnow didn't understand most of what the old woman said – but she distinctly heard "..beautiful."

Winnow beamed at the old woman and allowed her to lead her to their apartments. Mags guided her to the couches and turned on the television so they could watch the interviews that had already taken place. Winnow removed her heels without letting her eyes stray from the television screen.

Marvel, Glimmer and Clove's interviews were uninteresting to Winnow. But when she saw Cato walk out onto Caesar's stage – she was riveted. Mags slipped her hand into Winnow's, both watching the interview with baited breath.

Cato sat opposite Caesar like he owned the stage – body relaxed and legs slung wide open. Such a man, Winnow thought – shaking her head.

"I've been hearing rumors about you, Cato." Caesar remarked.

"Have you?" Cato smirked.

"Oh yes…the little birds- they've been telling me that you have been sighted – canoodling with another tribute!" Caesar exclaimed. The audience gasped and their noise rose to a roar.

Cato merely rolled his eyes and nodded his head slightly. "Well, Cato? We're waiting for some details," Caesar prompted.

Cato smiled, shaking his head. "Caesar, why would I do that? I have to save some excitement for the Games."

"Oh, come on, Cato, give me something." Caesar goaded.

"Oh, alright, Caesar…I gave her something this morning. A token, if you will. I think she's wearing it tonight,"

The interview cut away to district three interviews – and Winnow turned to look at Mags. "Well…I think that went…well. What do you think?" She asked the old woman. Mags nodded her head hastily, clutching Winnow's hand in hers.

"…good, good." Mags managed to get out.

"Winnow!" Artemisia called, rushing from the elevator. "You were brilliant! And the boy from 2! Perfect!" the petite woman praised, pressing a kiss to the tribute's forehead. "Come, let me get you cleaned up – if that's okay with you, Mags," she offered.

The old woman nodded, patting Artemisia's hand and then gesturing for them to go. Artemisia collected the heels on the floor and hurried Winnow towards her rooms. "Your love angle…it was so much more exciting, more believable! The one from twelve…ugh, so sappy! Sickening!" Artemisia chattered as she stripped Winnow out of the dress and shoved the naked girl into the shower.

Winnow's mouth fell open. "Wait – someone else did a romance angle!" she demanded, poking her head out from the spray of water.

"Yes – Twelve. Now get back under that water and scrub!" the stylist ordered, pushing the girl's back under the spray and sliding the glass door shut between them.

Winnow seethed as she scrubbed herself down, black make-up swirling in the drain. How dare Fire Bitch take the focus from her again!?

A/N: We're getting close now! Next chapter, we're in the Arena! Please keep reviewing and showing your support.

Thanks to gkmoberg1, Jaslyn, Emmeline'sEmbers, and SydneyLouWho for helping me by beta-reading!

Revised 7/16/14.