circus | finnick odair

the capitol

the capitol
Pennia's POV

Before the train had even pulled into the station, the uproar of Capitol citizens could be heard.

I looked out the small window and saw an ocean of colors — shades that until today had been nonexistent. Out of the corner of of my eye, I see Issac peering out the window next to mine, waving and smiling at the mass.

"He'll be getting sponsers," I heard the pompous Glowdusk whisper behind me. I rolled my eyes and kept blankly gazing at the crowd, curious as to how each of their minds worked.

The train came to a stop when we reached the station. As soon as the brakes were pumped, Issac and I were abruptly pulled out of our perches in front of the window and off the train. Issac was still waving and smiling at the crowd like every tribute should but I couldn't bring myself to do so.

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Prim's POV

Pumbee pulled us into the skyscraper, clearly embarrassed with our appearances. Chase and I both knew we looked horrible after the long ride but neither of us cared, it wouldn't matter in two weeks. We still waved and we still smiled, even if we were both on the verge of breakdown. Sponsors would be our only hope.

Once we were finally at the tower for the tributes, Pumbee whisked us away to our styling team.

I was shoved into a room, nearly tumbling from the harshness. I looked up and met the eyes of three Capitol people — one had piercings covering his face, the other two had identical facial tattoos and bright orange hair.

I could see their eyes looking me up and down and  subconsciously began to pick at my nails, a nervous habit I had developed after Katniss' disappearance.

"Oh no you don't!" The male stylist said, snatching my hand from my mouth. "Don't ruin my work before I've even started."

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Pennia's POV

After being poked and prodded for what seemed like hours, the black bag that held my outfit was unzipped, revealing something that I would've never expected.

I was utterly shocked, speechless as I ran my hands across the sleeves, the fabric smooth. A smile creeped it's way onto my face as I looked up at my stylists, a new appreciation for them bubbling inside.

"Creative," I said, unzipping the back of my outfit, eager to make heart stops.

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Katniss' POV

My knees bounced as we nervously awaited the tribute parade, I couldn't wait to see Prim.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turned to see Haymitch standing behind me, a sincere smile on his lips.

"Prim's going to be fine, she's with Eight." He said, taking the seat to my right, patting my knee as he sits.

"What?" Finnick said from the door, arms crossed over his chest.

"District Twelve technically has no victors, so no mentors." Haymitch replies, flicking the hair out of his face, speaking with his hands. "So the Gamemaker assigned them with District Eight."

"Why Eight?" I heard myself ask, my eyes trained on the TV.

Haymitch just shrugs, "We honestly don't have an answer to that." He opens his mouth to say more — voice his suspicions maybe — but the anthem of the Capitol drowns him out.