SONG: Weird Fishes/Arpeggi by Radiohead

Despite thinking she would be awake all night, Iris woke the next morning feeling surprisingly well-rested. No-one had woken her, so Iris surmised that she still had some time to herself before Ulysses would arrive to escort her to her death. She could get up and get something to eat, or have a shower, or pee, but Iris chose instead to stare up at the ceiling, fiddling with her new necklace. She wondered if the birds she could hear chirping outside her window were real, or if it was some sort of speaker built into the windowsill. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

Ulysses burst into her bedroom around half an hour after she woke up. He shepherded her out of her bed and into a basic grey outfit before escorting her from the penthouse and up to the roof. She didn't see Pomponia or Axel as they made their way through, and she supposed Haylee was already wherever the mentors had to be.

Iris didn't feel scared. She didn't even feel nervous. She just felt numb. She didn't flinch as the Capitol attendant injected the tracker into her arm, and she didn't blink as Ulysses directed her into a small room with breakfast laid out. She didn't speak as he instructed her to eat as much as she could, and she didn't cringe at the coppery taste in her mouth after she had eaten as much as she could force herself to.

All she could do was sit and stare out the window, and watch the world down below. They were moving too fast for her to make out any details - all she could see was colours and shapes blurring together. When the window eventually went dark, she took a deep breath, knowing that they were close to the arena. Close to the place where she would possibly be killed, the place where she would kill. She had accepted that she would kill someone. She wanted to go home, and if that meant taking lives she would do it. She hoped that Emily was taking care of Jordie, as she had promised she would.

"We are here," Ulysses said, snapping her back to reality. He took her arm, and they descended down the ladder and into the catacombs below the arena.

Ulysses offered her some more food, but Iris knew that she would projectile vomit all over the nice tube if she tried to eat anything else. She did, however, gulp down two full glasses of water before having a shower, and managed to get another one down after that. If she was forced away from the Cornucopia before getting the chance to grab some supplies, at least she would be fed and hydrated.

After she had dried her hair and brushed her teeth, Ulysses helped her into the clothes she would wear in the arena. The underwear was simple - a cotton sports bra and a pair of boxers, followed by a grey singlet top. Next there was a loose, cream-coloured long-sleeved cotton shirt, and a pair of khaki cargo pants, which had plenty of pockets, to Iris' relief - she would be able to carry small items if she didn't manage to get her hands on a backpack. The socks were tight and went up to her knees. The books were chunky but comfortable, and went up to her mid-calf. Finally, there was a fleece-lined jacket with some sort of reflective fabric on the outside. The jacket also had deep pockets on the inside, as well as a hood. The jacket was light blue in colour, to Iris' confusion - most of the jackets she saw in the Games were black or dark brown.

She frowned. From the outfit, she guessed that the arena would be hot; the lack of darker clothing suggested that the sun exposure would be nasty, and most of the fabric seemed to be designed to reflect heat. The fleece lining in the jacket was a bit of a juxtaposition to the airiness of the rest of the outfit, but that told Iris that it would be cold at night - so a desert, or a jungle, maybe. The boots weren't anything different from what tributes usually wore, except they were tan rather than black or dark brown.

Once she was dressed, she allowed Ulysses to do her hair. The stylist was surprisingly gentle, despite the way he usually treated her - maybe he did have a heart, after all. When she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine it was her mother, brushing her hair before school.

The final piece of the outfit was a dark green, cotton bandana. Ulysses folded it so that it resembled a headband, and tied it so that it went across her forehead and under her ponytail. This last addition confirmed to Iris that the arena was going to be hot - she couldn't remember ever seeing headbands or bandanas in the arena outfits except in years where there was a lot of sun in the arenas. Iris grimaced at the idea of this, and refilled her glass another two times.

"There. You look adequate," Ulysses said, after he had finished fastening the bandana. She knew that was his attempt at a compliment.

"Judging from this material, do you have any ideas about the arena?" Although she had a pretty good idea herself, an expert's opinion couldn't hurt.

"Well, the jacket and pants are designed to reflect heat. However, on the inside they are lined with light fleece. This suggests hot days, and cold nights. The shirt is breathable, and likely good for absorbing sweat, again indicating a warm climate." Ulysses paused, regarding her again. "The boots are light, but firm. They have good grip, suggesting that the landscape will be harsh. I cannot really draw much else." He sniffed. "It is nothing I would have designed of course. It would look far better with a splash of colour here and there."

"Sure. Thanks, Ulysses." His insight hadn't told her anything she hadn't already guessed, but it was confirmation, at least, that her brain was working correctly.

He took out of his pocket her necklace, which she had given him before getting in the shower. The cool bite of the delicate metal chain in her hand was comforting. She clasped the locket in her hand and squeezed it tight.

Iris was glad to be holding something from home. Something that her mother had once touched - she'd worn the necklace until the day she died. It was only simple, a silver chain with a silver heart locket hanging from it. But it was what was on the inside that mattered to her – two pictures. One of her parents on their wedding day, young and happy, her father his old self, before the Morphling destroyed his brain. And on the other side was a picture of herself and Jordie, taken when he was two and she was seven. Looking at her own toothy smile, she knew that she would fight to go home. She was not just fighting for the little girl in the photo – she was fighting for Jordie as well, and her mother, and even her father. Iris liked the new charm that Pomponia had added, as well; it was a reminder that there was at least one person other than Jordie who wanted her to come home.

"It is time," Ulysses said, breaking Iris from her reverie. He looked her up and down before nodding. "You are by far the least pathetic tribute I have ever mentored."

"Wow, Ulysses, two compliments in one day?" Iris said, managing a smile despite her nerves. "I'm truly honoured."

"Yes, it is an honour to have me as your stylist, I know."

Iris stepped into the tube, her heart beating. She had felt numb before, but she was now shaking with so much anxiety she felt like she was going to pass out. She attempted to clasp the necklace around her neck, but found that her hands were shaking too much for her to manage it. Wordlessly, Ulysses took it from her, and fastened it around her neck. "Thank you," she said. It was all she managed to get out. She tucked it into her shirt, in case anyone grabbed it and pulled her backwards. She did the same with her ponytail - too often she'd seen girls grabbed by their hair, their heads forced backwards, their throats slit. Iris wouldn't be one of them.

"Do try to win," he said in response. "I have a wonderful idea for a Career costume and I will not be promoted otherwise."

The tube sealed itself shut. Iris took a deep breath. It began to rise.