139th – Celinda Oxford, District Ten
…
One of the biggest draws of being a Victor for Indigo is the clothes. All of the tributes get a fantastic outfit for their interview, sure, but only Victors get those clothes for the rest of their lives. Indigo may have grown up surrounded by luxury, but her family never had enough money to buy her the finer things. Really, her only options were to marry rich or to become a Victor, and she was never pretty enough to get in with the really rich men. She's pretty enough for a Victor, though—perfect blonde hair, just curly enough to cascade down her shoulders. Deep green eyes, perfect unblemished skin.
By this point in the Games, she's not so pretty anymore. Her hair is a mess. The outfit they've dumped her in is the opposite of flattering. So is the arena, actually—a slaughterhouse. Disgusting. It stinks of blood and burning. It's not exactly how she imagined winning, but it doesn't matter.
Because Indigo has done it. She's a Victor. The last tribute—the boy from Eight or Nine or something—is dead at her feet.
She can see it now—she'll wear a gorgeous gown to her coronation. It will be some shade of turquoise, because that's her favorite color. It will shimmer under the spotlights that now only belong to her, and the crowd will be chanting her name and throwing roses at her feet. Everyone will know Indigo Markey is beautiful.
It's really such a relief to have won. Although it is odd that they haven't announced her yet. Maybe she missed it?
Regardless, this whole experience has been…pretty scary. Indigo knew it was going to be scary, sure, but she didn't really predict what it might actually look like. There's blood on her hands and on her face, but that's okay. Indigo knows how to make sure the blood splatters in a flattering way.
Her parents must be so happy, so relieved. Her little sister, too. She still remembers when she came home and informed her parents that she was going to train for the Hunger Games. She was just eight years old, the right age for it. It was just after Thalia Eames had won, and she looked so elegant in her dress at the coronation. Indigo had known then and there that that was going to be her one day.
It's her now. She did it. Her parents had always had their misgivings about it, always worried so much that Indigo might not make it through. Indigo always knew she was going to make it through. She might have to get her hands dirty, but it was always her destiny to be the Victor of the One-Hundredth, Thirty-Ninth Annual Hunger Games.
She sighs. Destiny has arrived.
And then a knife cuts her spine in half.
never done a one a day prompt challenge before. we'll see how far I get.