Chapter Eleven: The Station

Once she was able to get past the whole Annie Cresta debacle, and the fact that she really didn't want to die (wasn't that just a kick in the face, she hadn't afraid of death throughout her entire new lifetime and now she found herself fearful of never seeing her family once more), Maize was grateful for how her reaping was portrayed to the nation. The girl on the screen was confident (it spoke in her straight spine and even walk) as she volunteered, her eyes unafraid as she walked up onto the podium and spoke her name clearly. Maize was only happy that she hadn't made a fool of herself like she'd thought she had. However it was the small comforting smile, which hadn't as private as she'd hoped, that Maize had given Cana that seemed to have endeared her to Caesar Flickerman.

Apparently, she was a strong but caring girl, and the host of the Hunger Games wanted to know what had made Maize so confident to volunteer especially because she was a part of the outlying Districts (where volunteers for the Games were practically non-existent). Cana on the other hand was barely a blip on their radar. As if they had already written him off. (Not on her fucking watch!).

When the train arrived in the Capitol's terminal, it was full of excited Capitolites waiting to catch a glimpse of the 'lucky' tributes. Maize approached the window with her head held high before shooting the crowd a smirk and a wink before moving a curl out of her face delicately. The crowd seemed to go wild as they crowded the space, pushing each other to get closer to her.

Seeder's response was to pat her back in pride, "Good job, that's a good way to get Sponsors." the woman praised before turning to look at a pale Cana, "Why don't you come and tease the citizens of the Capitol as well?"

"I-I don't think that's a good idea." Cana mumbled, "I feel like I'm gonna be sick."

Maize immediately moved to the teen's side to rub his back, "Hey, hey, Cana it's okay. Breathe deeply, you don't want to lose your breakfast."

His brown eyes filled with tears before he whispered softly, "It's not going to be okay."

She gripped the back of his shirt tightly, as Cana rubbed his face. "I know."

No one wins the Games.

And Cana was already losing.

Cana was ushered away by their disturbed looking escort as she began to brag about the wonderful sights of the Capitol. Seeder and Chaff only looked at Maize's District partner with pity and acceptance. They were already counting the skinny teen out. It filled her with rage. She was careful to keep it off her face.

Maize's mind was a million miles away versus where her body physically was.

She was currently being poked and prodded at by the stylist group assigned to her District in the Remake Center. Her prep group consisted of two flamboyant men (that were so feminine compared to the men in her District that it had taken her a moment to realize that they were men) and one shyer woman. Of course, the three of them were extremely colorful and odd in their choice of fashion compared to the style of dress she'd gotten used to. Even when comparing the strange bubble/glass dress that Circo (one of the male stylists) was wearing to the strangest fashions she'd seen in her first life... it didn't even touch upon the craziness that Capitolites found beautiful or fashionable. (Lady Gaga, that American actress, came to her mind when she tried to find an accurate comparison for Capitol fashion).

In comparison to Amla, Maize's hair was less kinky and wild to control. Even then, her mama always did her (and Amla's) hair into intricate braids for the reapings, this year hadn't been any different. Now though the prep team was undoing the braids, fixing her nails, while another poured wax onto her legs and began ripping the hair off her skin. Maize couldn't hold in some of the random yelps of pain at the sensation as Yurida started moving up and waxing other areas that were more sensitive. By the time the woman was done, Maize was hairless everywhere except for her head. It was strange. Shaving wasn't something that was common in her new life, people were too busy working in the fields to think about something as extra as body hair. The only moment in a woman's life where shaving was even an option was their wedding night. Maise hadn't felt the sensation of smooth skin in years. So it was strange but also nice.

In all honesty, the most awkward part of the whole thing was the fact that Maize was naked. Bare for the prep team to view and prod at. Of course after three hours of them bathing, waxing, polishing and rubbing creams onto her skin... she wasn't as mortified as she was the moment they had taken away her robe. (She had been angry however when they judged her body. From the stretch marks on her hips when they expanded rapidly during puberty or around her chest which was ample for someone who had suffered from malnutrition constantly, to her pretty pathetic height of five feet, or how giddy/jealous they were that her ribs were visible, to the marks on her back, she refused to reveal how she'd gotten them). It helped a little that Maize had internally labeled (because she would never say it to their face even if they were Capitolites) them as unfeeling drones when it came to her body. Perhaps it was mean, but it made her feel better and as a teenager that was days away from her death... Maize felt a little entitled to dehumanize the people (and the others like them) prepping her for her death. After all, that's what they did with the tributes and Victors of the Hunger Games year after year.

It was only after Tesoro finished applying her makeup, while Circo and Yurida added the final touches to her re-braided (and infinitely more complex) hair, that she was presented to her stylist Orion Ambersen. The man was wearing an interesting suit that played upon his namesake, with different constellations that were lighting up with some sort of tiny/minuscule lightbulbs where the stars were supposed to be. His skin was dark and reminded her of home, but his hair (a stylized afro) was white as snow, but his eyes were a piercing gold color that seemed to absorb all that they concentrated on. And now they were focused entirely on her.

A small smirk pulled on the corners of his gold-painted lips, "Hello Ms. Maize, I am Orion, and you darling are my muse for these Games." Maize looked at him with curious and slightly suspicious eyes, "The moment you volunteered in a manner so self-assured, I had to make you an entire new outfit to reflect this persona."

Orion led her to a small podium for her to stand on so that he could circle around her figure. Maize stood still, the only indication that she was nervous being that her thumb was running over her green glossed nails. But the man only seemed pleased with what was in front of him. People in the fashion industry had always confused her.

"Have you ever heard of Demeter?"

This was going to be interesting.

Words: Around 1,200

Edited: October 30, 2019