When the train pulled in to the station I was tempted to pretend that I was still asleep. I'm not sure what I was hoping would come of it, but at least I would have had an excuse to stay in the marvelously soft bed. However no one could sleep through the sounds outside the window. Cautiously I uncurled and pushed my way out of my pillow fortress. Pushing a chair over to the window I carefully lifted the blind and peered out, the daylight spilling in. The response was immediate and violent. My eyes widened at the sheer amount of people pressed outside. They yelled and cheered, screamed and shouted, and I quickly let the blinds fall and lept away from the window.
Weft arrived at my door arrayed in purple silk, her lips painted carefully to match. Small purple flowers rested in her hair and her fingernails bore matching flowers made of porcelain on each tip.
"Ready?" Her question was simple but the answer wasn't. Not having much of a choice I simply nodded and followed her from the train car. "You really don't say much." Weft noted dryly as we departed. "We'll have to work on that." I just nodded again.
The crowd screamed as we left the train and I was glad for Weft's colorful skirt to hide behind as we entered the building. Glancing backwards I glimpsed a sea of shining faces and colors, some holding signs that bore letters I didn't understand. I wondered if any of them said my name.
We were greeted by three of the most terrifying women I had ever seen. The tallest greeted Weft as an old friend and they kissed the air above one another's cheeks. "Take good care of her!" Weft sang as she scuttled away, no doubt to check for hidden cameras or some other related item. Left alone with the three women I examined them each in turn.
The tallest one looked as if she bore some form of cotton candy for hair, and I would have believed it had it not been black as night in color. I liked her smile but she had a sharpness about her that scared me. I thought I could cut myself on the angles of her bones, even her eyebrows were deeply pointed. She introduced herself as my designer, Peony and I smiled because her name sounded soft, a contrast to her that somehow fit.
The two other women were both equally interesting in a visual sense. The second was named Star, and per her namesake she had tattoos of small stars on each lower eyelid. Her arms and legs were also speckled in the same tattoo, each freckle on her body had been transformed into a star, she almost appeared speckled until you realized what they were. The third and perhaps most terrifying woman was named Divine and she stared at me with eyes so bright and intense I thought that they couldn't be real. She never seemed to blink, and I found myself constantly staring at her face, not sure what made it so irresistible and strange.
While I was staring at Divine, the other girl, Star, had made her way behind me and was unbuttoning my dress. Shoving it to the floor she laughed at my horror. "What did ya' do that for?" I cried, snatching at the dress. Star grabbed it before I could, whisking it away, "Sorry!" She called in a voice that wasn't sorry in the slightest. I shivered and tried desperately to cover myself. "Come on! That's not funny!" I yelled, tears welling in my eyes.
"Oh babydoll!" It was Peony speaking, "You have nothing to fear! Come now! A nice bath!" She gestured to the waiting tub and I nearly lept straight in. The bubbles smelled like lavender and I ducked beneath the suds, soaking myself and gaining a moment of privacy underwater. Sadly I feel my hair being tugged on from above the tub and am forced back up. "Oy! Give me a minute!" I reach for the soap but am not allowed the luxury of washing myself as Star returns to help Divine scrub me raw.
"At least at this age they barely have any hair." Divine comments dryly as I'm removed from the tub, the water tinted with dirt. "Saves us the time of waxing." Star nods but is too busy being disgusted by the dirty water to comment. I shrug at it, I feel marvelously clean and have never had a bath quite so warm or thorough. Next is hair and makeup and I can barely sit still as Divine and Star pull, pluck, tug, primp, and preen. I sneeze quite a bit as all of the different lotions and potions smell so strongly, and while they find it amusing at first their patience runs out around the sixth sneeze or so.
Finally I'm deemed ready, and Peony returns, a garment bag in hand. "Babydoll!" she coos with delight, "They've turned you into an angel!" she claps her hands and Star and Divine glow with pride. "Now to dress you like one."
I stare at my apparently renowned stylist blankly, having not the slightest idea of what she’s talking about. “What?” I ask.
“Why the look of course,” she responds, with a Capitol accent of her own that only the older people of the Capitol have.
I roll my eyes, growing impatient. “What look?” I stammer.
“The Mediterranean look. And darling, there’s no need to get flustered. I’m on your side,” she comments.
“And what is the Mediterranean look? And why is it important?” I inquire, growing more aggravated with each new answer she gives me.
“The olive tone complexion. The dark hair. The dark eyes. And it’s important because it has everything to do with the costume you’ll be wearing at the parade,” Andromeda explains.
I’m inclined to ask her what Mediterranean is or means, but I’m not looking for a long winded explanation, so I refrain from doing so.
I look her up and down, realizing that I have little faith in her with each growing moment. Her red hair puffs out in all directions, while tortoise-rimmed glasses balance precariously atop the tip of her bony nose. Frilly gloves hide her fingers, worn from years of creating the stitches that hold together the entirety of her fashion empire. I have no idea how to explain her outfit, and I have no intentions at making an attempt at doing so. I only recognize that the garment draped on her shoulders is an oddly patterned shawl.
“Well, it’s time to get you all cleaned up and groomed. And while you don’t look as unkempt as some of the tributes here, there’s still a lot of work for Ursa to do,” she says.
“Who’s Ursa?” I ask as she tugs at my wardrobe.
“That woman right there,” Andromeda replies as she points a finger at a young looking woman with jet black hair and bright red lipstick.
As she continues to tug at my clothing, I get fed up, asking, “What are you doing?”
“Why, removing your clothing of course. How else are we supposed to wax all your hair off, save your eyebrows and what’s on the top of your head?” she responds nonchalantly, as if ripping hairs out of one’s flesh is a normal, everyday occurrence. I presume that it is for her, and for those who dwell in the Capitol. For me, it’s a foreign concept, as I've never waxed anything before, and never intended on doing so.
After arguing with Andromeda over whether or not I can keep my undergarments, I find myself completely stripped and sitting atop a cold, unforgiving metallic surface. The woman named Ursa approaches, the red gem implanted in between her eyebrows gleaming under the fluorescent lighting.
“Hi hun, I’m Ursa,” she purrs.
When I don’t respond, she continues, “I’ll be taking care of your waxing today.”
I grit my teeth as she rips the strips of wax off, bringing a collection of hairs along with it, but it gets increasingly harder to bite my tongue as she tends to the more sensitive areas. She insincerely apologizes each time she rips off an area of hair. When she’s done, she leaves the room wordlessly.
Andromeda returns. “Wonderful, just wonderful. I can see you clearly now, my darling,” she says absentmindedly as she inspects ever niche of my body. As if she couldn’t see me at all when I had a bit of hair on me.
When she finishes, she hands me a shapeless cloth dress to put on. A tape measurer in her hand, she takes my height, bust size, shoe size and the width of my neck, waist, and shoulders. “Well now that everything’s all set regarding hair removal and sizing,” Andromeda starts, “I’ll send in Draca to do your makeup.” That sounds a bit less painful than it was to be waxed, but you can never know with the Capitol.
I soon learn that Draca is the girl with long pink hair. She’s extremely talkative, unlike Ursa was. She speaks a mile a minute as she does just my eyeliner, somehow managing to get the entire story of how her cousin got fired from a hair salon in. She applies makeup here and there until I look “runway ready”, as Draca calls it. When I look in the mirror, I’m glad to see that I can still recognize myself and that Draca hasn’t applied too much makeup.
“Libra will be here in just a moment to do your hair,” Draca says as she leaves, makeup kit in tow.
A girl with half black half white hair split right down the middle enters the room, introducing herself as Libra. She’s very sensitive, making sure not to cause me too much pain. God knows I’ve already gone through enough for a lifetime just after dealing with Ursa. I examine my hair in the reflection. It’s an elegant look, with my hair piled atop my head in a tight bun, and wisps of curled hair hanging like ornaments from the side of my head. I thank Libra before she goes.
“Darling, you look absolutely divine,” Andromeda muses. I spin around, not having heard her enter the room.
“Thank you,” I say curtly. I decide that I’ll reserve final judgments for Andromeda and her team once the parade concludes.
“I can already tell that you’ll look wonderful in your costume, and that the crowd will feel the same way!” she trills.
“What about sponsors? What’ll they think?” I inquire. I know the importance of them.
“Oh, I have them covered. I know the perfect way to appeal to a certain one,” Andromeda responds.
“Now, come, darling. Time to see your costume and to get ready,” Andromeda beckons before letting me get a word in. I follow in suit, eager to see what Andromeda has planned for me.
After dinner was over, everyone went back to the lounge room and waited till the train finally got to the Capitol. We're almost out of the borders separating Districts One and Three and are about to enter the great walls of the Capitol. Nobody said a word. It's either everyone's nervous or are too full. I've stuffed myself with so much food. The Academy wouldn't be so proud of me breaking the diet I worked so hard to perfect the past years. But I didn't hear neither one of my mentors stop me, so I didn't think any harm was done. I'll just have to do a few push-ups and sprint a mile or two later on.
When someone announced that we are finally entering the Capitol, I rushed to one of the windows to get a better view. Everything about it was just so incredible. Skyscrapers that touched the clouds, great monuments and enormous buildings was all the Capitol consisted off. The train passed by what appeared to be a large dam with rushing waters and through a long dark tunnel. Before the train slowly pulled to a stop, I had an idea to greet the Capitolites awaiting us.
I poured myself a cold glass of water and added a bunch of ice cubes. I then unbuttoned my dress shirt and walked over to the window once I heard the screaming; muffled by the almost completely sound-proof windows. Intentionally tripping and spilling the liquid onto my chest and down to my abdominal area, the candy-coloured Capitolites nearly screamed their heads off to my so called accident. These people are way too easy to manipulate. Perfect.
As we stepped out of the train, the consistent "take it off!" from the Capitol citizens that awaited us made me stop on my tracks to give them exactly what they want. I stripped off my dress shirt and tossed it to the crowd. A lucky individual who caught it but was soon after tackled by multiple other people who expressed how they apparantly wanted it even more. First day in the Capitol and I already caused a small riot. The smirk on my face grew. Keela on the other hand who was shaking her head didn't seem so pleased. I ignored her and seductively ran my hand down my still soaked body. A little added sensuality to my charms should do the trick. However, I stopped there. I'd rather not be arrested for obscenity.
I felt somewhat bad that I just wasted the perfectly good shirt that my mother bought me. I was aware of how expensive it was as well. But if it gained me potential sponsors that might save my life in the Arena, I think it was completely worth it.
Peacekeepers led us to a tall building. Pixie, my mentors, Vanilla, and I went our separate ways. We were told to meet back in the stables and line up for the tribute parade. Logan for the first time actually talked to me. "You might wanna prepare yourself for what awaits you in that room. Hopefully your boyfriend— er, your teacher warned you about the painful beautification process." He grinned and gave me a pat on the back before urging me to walk forward. I took a deep breath and did just that.
Three giddy individuals greeted me and pulled me into the room. "We never met a shirtless tribute before!" said one of them, I'm not sure who. "I know! I just can't stop staring at him!" added another. "Well don't get too distracted and focus on your work, Geizel," said the male. Their over-happiness somewhat made me uncomfortable, but if they're here to make me lure in sponsors, who was I to say no? I gave them all a charming smile and did whatever they asked me to.
"Now, if you could strip the clothes off your lower body," asked the woman with white eyebrows and blue hair politely. I nodded, innocently smiled and did what she said. I started with my shoes and socks, putting them gently on the floor. After that I unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants and slid them off, followed by my undergarments. I'm not self-conscious about my figure, but other than under the sheets sometimes and in the shower, I've never been completely naked.
Next, I was told to lay down on a metal platform, but before I could do that, Geizel, the woman with the lion-like mane in braids, placed what she said was a waterproof thin mattress to make me more comfortable. "Shh," she said. "The other tributes don't get the same luxury," She giggled. I gave her a nod and smile of gratitude.
I laid down, my eyes up at the ceiling. I took deep breaths as each and everyone of them got to work.
The male with greenish-blue hair, which Geizel called Tyler, grabbed a shower head and began washing my hair. He shampooed and conditioned my blonde locks, making comments about how nice it smelled. I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. "I hate to wash away the scent of the ocean in your hair, so to keep it I'm using soaps with similar smells, is that alright?" I gave him a thumbs up and laid completely still. He then filled my fingernails and toenails to perfection. The painful part was him shaping my cuticles. I recalled back to when Janice drags me to our local spa when her friends weren't available and Drew was too much of a brat to do so. At least I had some preparation to all this girly beautification process.
Geizel then approached me with a large bowl filled with an orange gelatinous goop she kept on mixing with a wooden spoon. "I'm sorry... but you are not an exception to hair removal." I gulped nervously and gave her my permission to continue. She applied what she called sugar paste all over my body, not long before pulling, painfully I might add. I tried my best to suppress my screams. Guys are not suited for this kind of torture. Tyler wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead. Only muffled groans escaped my lips as Geizel carried on with what she's doing. Soon after, she moisturized my pinkish-red skin with various lotions and creams. I'm completely smooth, but I feel like a plucked chicken. After that, she put the same substance on parts of my face. It wasn't as agonizing as before, but it still kind of hurt. She said it was to remove any facial hair and to shape my eyebrows.
When Geizel finally finished, the last member of my giddy trio went up to me. "Don't you look handsome," she commented. "More so than before, I might add." I smiled at her and sat up. "My name's Katlynn," she said. I finally know her name. I wonder what she has planned for me. Katlynn grabbed a small kit of makeup and got to work. She hardly put anything on me, probably due to my gender. Too much would be rather strange and unappealing, so that's good. Lastly, she sprayed my body with a cologne she described had the fresh scent of the ocean and tropical paradise.
I then got into a thin hospital robe and my prep team left the room. After a few minutes, a woman wearing luscious green gown entered and gave me a smirk. She's obviously had surgically cosmetic alterations done to her body. Her lips are plump and her breasts are way too good to be natural. She's nonetheless quite beautiful, and has the right amount of makeup compared to her minions. "Hello, I'm Anastasia. So you're the handsome boy from Four," she said. I nodded my head and gratefully smiled at her. "I heard only good news from my crew," she stated. "You're quite toned and muscular, I love it." She made me blush a little. "Alright then, let's get you to your wardrobe."
Katlyn, Tyler and Geizel walked back into the room and brought me a dress bag. I assumed whatever I'm wearing is inside. They allowed me to unzip it and pull the outfit and everything out. It was rather revealing, but I was promised it attracts sponsors so I put it on anyways, accompanied by my prep team adding extra adjustments. I recalled having people here go crazy for a little skin, and even more shown should do the trick.
"Your partner Pixie has a matching outfit," Anastasia informed me. "You both look so alluring, I love it. And many will too. Now, the tribute parade is about to begin. Make sure to show confidence, and the crowd will love you," she assured me.
I looked at my reflection one more time before being led to the chariots. I'm ready. Everyone back home and all of Panem will be watching. Perfection is the only thing I plan on showing them.
I didn't cry or yell as my body was waxed and plucked to the nth degree, didn't argue when they sanded the callouses off my hands and feet, didn't even object when the ladies decided to pierce my ears. But then they mentioned my hair.
"She would look adorable with some tints of purple and red in there. Just think. The perfect amount of punk to how cute she is." The redhead stated, picking up a bottle of red liquid.
"Excuse me?" I interjected for the first time since arriving.
The three women turned to me. They were all oddly natural looking for the Capitol, but all three were beautiful in their own ways. Even though they didn't have any glaring surgeries or alterations, they still were obviously not from the Districts. They were too wealthy looking.
"Honey, we just thought-"
"Don't call me honey, and don't mess with my hair," I stated as I sat up. "My hair is fine. You can trim it and curl it or whatever but the color gets me noticed and it's perfect with my skin. Don't change it."
They reluctantly accepted and finished up with me, leaving me in a small room to wait for my stylist. It was only about five minutes before the door burst open.
"Ayyy!" I jumped at the sudden sound. "I am Phelix, my adorable little lady! How are you today?" Upon his gleeful entrance, I smiled. What a good first impression.
"Fine, thank you."
Phelix's hair and goatee were dyed a bright magenta but everything else seemed normal about him. His skin color and eye color were similar to mine- something I hadn't seen much in Five- but both of his arms were covered in circular-patterned tattoos. I wanted to ask what they meant but he started talking in his high voice before I could.
"You are a beautiful little girl but you've probably heard that all your life. Can't only rely on what Mommy and Poppy gave you. We need to make you striking. Deadly," I liked the way he talked. "No more pink, honey."
Nevermind.
"Pink is my signature color. I'm wearing pink." I stated. There was no compromise when it came to my favorite color.
"Girl," he put his hand on my shoulder. "You're feisty. I like that. The Capitol is going to like that. And most of all, the sponsors are going to like that. Pink washes out that sauciness, makes you too sweet. And for the parade, you're wearing black."
I crossed my arms. "Black is so depressing."
"Black is powerful!" Phelix raised his arms. "Black is a statement! And nobody will be expecting it on you, of all tributes."
He had a point. "Fine. Just for the parade. I'm wearing pink for the interview."
"Deal," he quipped. "Now Five is Power, which I love. That's what this pre-arena period is all about. Proving your power! You are a powerful being- you spark!"
Where was he going with this?
"So your outfit is gonna spark along with you," Oh no. "I have been designing for over twenty years and people love power. They love statements. Black, sparking power lines seemingly strangling you, a little girl, is a statement!"
I smiled. I could handle sparks. I'd been facing various levels of electric shocks my entire life. It was part of inventing.
"And what will a statement get me?" I asked.
"Honey," Phelix looked me in the eyes with a smirk. "I think you know the answer to that."
Growing up, Alyvia was always dressed to impress. Being a Capitol model wasn't the easiest job in the world, especially for a child. Always struggling to be the skinniest, the prettiest, and everywhere in between, Alyvia found that she hated dressing for the cameras, only to be shot down because she wasn't as good as the other girls. While she was set on becoming a model since a young age, Alyvia decided that she'd rather make others feel beautiful than be shot down by others. In her early twenties, Alyvia took up the art of make up and fought for years for a spot on the Games' prep teams. Two years ago, she became a part of the District Five male prep team, and after the chief stylist retired, she took his spot as head stylist. Alyvia is warmhearted, loud, and enjoys interacting with her tributes. She believes that everyone has a say in what her tribute wears, and can be seen as one of the most agreeable stylists for the Games. With the assistance of her prep team--hairstylist Hadassah, makeup artist Slate, and skincare specialist Idony--Alyvia is excited to take on District Five's newest male tribute.
Anastasia was born in a family who adores fashion more than anything. They own one of the most influential and successful clothing lines in the Capitol. However, being the youngest child gave her little to nothing to work with. And so, she decided to pursue her own profession, and her skills landed her a job as a costume designer for the Hunger Games. Anastasia adores dressing tributes in fabulous wardrobes that show sensual skin as much as possible. Her favorites are from District Four due to their slim and toned swimming bodies. She also has to hardly alter and beautify them since most who come to her are from Privileged Districts that take care of their children more so than others. With Katlynn on makeup, Tyler with hair and nails, and Geizel with skin, Anastasia is going to make sure Roman lures in sponsors with added attractiveness on him.
