Gryffon and Jay were ushered to the basement of the Remake Center, the noise that came from The Avenue of the Tributes penetrating loudly through the grand doors that separated the chariots and the live audience. "Nervous?" Gryffon jumped a bit at the question, his widened eyes dragged down to the small figure of Jay at his side. Their stylists had worked together wonderfully – Jay's midback-length hair had been cut in layers and ended at her shoulders now, or so it seemed like that. Her hair was gelled up in an arch like a blue jay's, and she had been paled to the silver-blue color of a jay's downy. Her outfit was made of cool and dark colors that showed the bird's elegance, quite contradictory to his warm and bright colors that boasted of a griffin's strength whereas hers screamed out a bird's gentleness and silence. Jay was made to look agile and tender, though surprisingly sly, and it showed with her darkly eyelined eyes. She wore a blue tailcoat suit that narrowed off in the back to resemble a blue jay's tail, and her sleeves tapered with blue, white, and grey-black feathers to make her truly look like the avian she was named after.

"Not really," Gryffon finally answered, looking from her to their chariot before hopping in. He offered her a hand, but she shrugged it away and clicked up there beside him. Without getting much of a response for her, he tried, "I think you can actually pull this off . . . You're the vision of a blue jay – feathers, wings, tail, and all." It was an illusionistic outfit made to show her how her stylist wanted her to be seen, just like Canworm had done to Gryffon. They were both the visions of what the Capitol wanted to see, and they had to make sure to keep it that way.

"Thanks," she mumbled in turn, shuffling her feet. "Maple, my stylist, told me we were opposite in appearance . . . I don't see the point of it, aren't we supposed to look like our district?"

"Our colors can go with District Eleven, and how many times have you seen the blue jays up there?" Gryffon reminded her. Jay rolled her eyes, shooting him a pointed glare that he caught with a smirk. "They had a prompt, apparently. Look around, we all look like this." District Four was decorated to look like transporting waves, Twelve like burning ashes and coal, Seven looked like a pair of walking vines, and One – like always – stood bedazzled in their own, Career-like way.
Jay sighed, but couldn't help but nod. "Yeah, okay. Fine." So curt. Always so curt. She had to loosen up, she had to understand that this wasn't the time to let fear get the best of her because she was just going to die! She had to understand that the Capitol fed off of fear, off their hate and lack of hope. She might as well be holding up neon signs, saying: WALKING, TALKING, LOATHING DOLL.
Instead of mulling over her demeanor, Gryffon let his eyes scan the pairs of tributes again. He hadn't watched the recaps, hell, he hadn't even eaten dinner or talked with Annabelle much. He had no idea what was going on. But he didn't know the names of anyone, didn't know anyone's faces or what their first impressions had been. And seeing everyone all dressed up, either so elegant or so dangerous-looking, it was unnerving. He had one shot at this. One chance. He couldn't screw it up. Not when Two stood like a pair of ancient pharaohs or One like a king and queen – all so comfortable in what they wore and where this whole competition was going. He was going to show them all. He had to. He was going to show that he wasn't a stupid, naïve, and ignorant little boy. They had to see that just as clearly as he did.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sixty-Fourth Hunger Games parade! Take a look around at the sea of masks, look at them all, standing so tall – big or small, they are ready for a ball!" Claudius Templesmith announced with the greatest zeal Gryffon imagined anyone to be able to produce. The moment he started speaking, the doors had opened and the cheering had grown louder. District 1, like always, was the first smashing hit. Everyone roared for the royal pair, laughing, or crying. One by one, each chariot pulled forward, glowing under the bright lights and being projected on the large screens.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Careers were gone. Now for the outer districts.

Five started out, then Six . . .

Seven . . .

It was a countdown. Their lives were always controlled by numbers. Numbers directed by the Capitol. It was like a clock. A time bomb . . . Always another time bomb . . .

Eight.

Nine.

"Don't be afraid," Jay whispered softly to the two of them, echoing the words her stylist had told her as she linked her fingers with Gryffon's. "Don't be ashamed. We can do this . . . " She smiled quickly at her friend as Ten's chariot entered the Avenue; they both pressed their masks to their faces, both of their expressions becoming obscured by feathers. Gryffon gently squeezed her hand, the heat of the lights on his attire beginning to spread over his chest and torso – showing off a new illusion he hadn't noticed: the fur and feathers glowed warmly over both their bodies, giving them a truly graceful and powerful air. Jay swooped one arm into the air, Gryffon doing the same with his opposite arm. They were flying while on ground, both entrancing with their swirling and merging colors and wings. Gryffon dared one glance toward the screen and smiled to himself when he caught the glimpse of him and Jay there. They could do it. They were doing it.

"Welcome to the masquerade, Gryff'," Jay murmured as she lightly waved at the crowd, her wings fluttering with the movement. Gryffon mirrored her gesture, his eyes almost visibly shining an emerald color when he saw the robe flowed behind him, mimicking her feathers with the glimmering motion. Several times Gryffon saw District 11's chariot projected on the screen, even after they reached the half-way point. They rivaled District 1 in show – they were already close to one-upping a Career pair . . . He couldn't help but smile at the thought, and frankly, it made him feel even better about the whole show dog aspect. Fuck everyone's doubts, they didn't know anything about anything . . .
"Hello, tributes!"

The chariots curved along the end of the Avenue, forming their semi-circle in the City Circle that sat under the president's balcony. President Snow gave a short speech, congratulating the tributes for a great parade, and wished them the best of luck; and with a last, "let the odds be ever in your favor!", Snow left the scene and allowed the chariots to round the Circle one last time before entering the basement of the Training Center with the cheers only growing louder behind them.

The speech was obviously insincere, but it still encouraged Gryffon. Snow had said the same speech for sixty-four years, and it would probably never change, but it still made the tribute feel powerful, as if he actually had a chance. A one in twenty-four chance, but still a chance.

Gryffon helped Jay off the carriage and kept her hand in his once she was off. Her fingers tightened around his as they let the pair of Twelve pass by with their stylists, escort, and mentor. A moment after, a high pitched voice greeted, "beautiful children!" Vinyel rushed forward, pulling Jay into a hug before urging Gryffon toward him. "Lovely!" The tribute pulled back and rolled his eyes, catching the dim light's reflection in the amber glow of his attire.

"Ooh, Gryffon, that's so—"

"Leave him be, Vinyel," Annabelle said quietly, resting her hand on the escort's shoulder. The teen rolled his eyes again and looked toward the two stylists who stood beside each other silently. They both had high cheek bones, small eyes and lips, tall stature. The only difference between them, apparently, was gender, hair length, and the side of their body their tattoos were on.

Canworm stepped up, Maple a foot behind him. "You two did wonderfully; I was honestly expecting you both to freeze up. I was surprised when you decided to wave."

Jay nodded a bit and murmured a small thank you before the Capitol attendants firmly ushered them toward the elevators. Gryffon scoffed, saying a rough goodbye to their team before nudging Jay toward the elevators. They walked toward the first one, hardly aware they were still hand-in-hand — hardly aware that a third body shuffled in beside them. The moment the doors closed and Gryffon turned, his glare fixated on the new girl and narrowed.

"Hi, babe," the second blonde smiled, pulling one of her curls out of her bobby-pinned bun. "You two were real cute. You looked almost like . . . fighters, like Careers." The girl was dressed in a full gown, the delicate white fabric embedded with emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, and was covered by silver and white lace. Her bun was topped by a diamond crown with a large blue sapphire in the center of it, and upon her face sat maybe the most expensive of the masks with its silky rims and diamond-encrusted fabric.

"Thanks, uhm . . . "

"Sapphire," she swooned as she pulled the last of the pins out of her hair, letting her curly cues fall in a golden cascade over her shoulders. "Gryffon, right?" The boy nodded and glanced down at Jay, surprised to see her eyes narrowed at the Career. "Oh, your the sweetheart of a boy who volunteered for that hopeless district! How keee-ute!" A light ding notified them that they had reached their first destination. "Oh, I'll can ride up with y - "

"No, you can get out now," Jay interrupted, motioning with her free hand for the Career to get out. "You aren't gracing us with your company, you're just being a bore. Buh-bye."

"Don't think so," she giggled, raising a brow at Gryffon as he gazed at her. "Impressed?" Sapphire lost her chance to step out when the doors shut and started toward District 11's floor.

Gryffon smirked and tilted his head a bit. "Quite the modest one," he mused sarcastically.

"Oh, that I am," Sapphire laughed, curling a strip of her hair behind an ear.

"Don't encourage her, Gryff'!" Jay tightened her hand around his when she hissed, shooting him a desperate look. What was her problem? They didn't even get a chance to interact with the other tributes yet, why was she so bothered by Sapphire already?

"What are you even supposed to be, dear?" the Career asked, nodding at Jay.

"I said move," Jay let go of her district partner's hand and stepped toward Sapphire. "Want me to say it again? Slower maybe? M o v e, princess."

The Career merely rolled her eyes and leaned slightly against Gryffon, shaking her head a bit as she laid her head against his shoulder. "How cute." As she moved, the lights shifted and made her cheeks and the locks of her hair tinge red and blue with the reflection of her jewels.

"Cute . . . " Jay practically spat the word. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Staring at your god-ugly face," she chided. "Care to give me a break, darling?" At that, Sapphire turned her masked face up to Gryffon and reached for the feathers that hid his features. "May I?"

DING - "You have arrived on the Eleventh Floor," an airy Capitol accent announced, breaking the quiet between the two.

"Some other time," Gryffon chuckled, trying to get the easy-going air back into the elevator. He took Jay's hand again and pulled her onto their floor, ignoring Sapphire's call of goodnight.

When the doors finally closed behind them, Jay pulled away from Gryffon and rushed toward her room.

"Jay, what—"

"Shut up, Vinyel, she's not in the mood," Gryffon cut him off, watching as she let the coat and mask drop before branching off into the first room marked TRIBUTE. "We ran into One in the elevator . . . " Annabelle sighed from her place against the wall and looked up at him, raising a brow.

"Sure, Gryffon . . . Go change," the young woman ordered, waving him off. The tribute gritted his teeth and started toward the room opposite Jay's, feeling Annabelle's hard glare on him the entire time.

Girls and their staring . . . Didn't they get it became uncomfortably hot and stung after a while?