Sugarcubes // Finnick Odair - Hunger Games Fanfic

V.

The capitol is huge.

There's no other word for it. Immediately, I'm faced with tall buildings whose rooftops are impossible to see from the small train windows. Both Austin and I immediately rush to the windows eager to take in the Capitol. But as we get closer to the main city, and the crowds around the track thicken, Austin retreats back into the train. I would have done so too: the sheer size of the crowd overwhelming me, but Blights words played in my mind.

Make them sponsor you. Make them like you.

And so, putting on my best cheery fake smile, which I've had quite a lot of practice doing while playing with Lia on an empty stomach, I start to wave out the window at the bloodthirsty capitol freaks that watched us die for entertainment. I hate the fact that these people are the only thing that stands between life and death for me; If they like me - the game makers won't kill me, If they don't - I'll be dead before I can say my own name. The more that I wave, the more into the groove I get. I can tell that people adore me already - just as they usually do tributes that volunteer. I eventually get to the point where I am catching and blowing out kisses while Austin sits inside the train and stares at me as though he would like nothing more than to slit my throat. It is slightly unsettling but still enjoyable to know I am getting on his nerves. The train halts in front of a great big building – our training center, which is our only destination before the arena itself. Even the opening ceremony will happen inside the gates of the training center, Rosaline explains.

We are escorted through masses of crowds with Blight and Eero at both our sides and Rosaline in front screaming "Make way! Make way!" in her shrill capitol accent. I hate that she is slightly growing on me. After making it through the crowd, in which I acquired two bright red roses, I am separated from Austin and put into a metal room with only a small metal bed and a few freaky instruments in it. The peacekeeper who is my escort roughly tosses me a hospital gown held together by a few knots and tells me to put it on. I strip off my olive-green shirt and dark brown jeans and lay them out carefully on the table, as well as taking off my brown boots and placing them carefully at the side of the room. I consider taking off the locket, but immediately strike the idea down, it is a part of me I sure as hell am not letting go of.

I slip on the gown feeling extremely exposed and sit down on the metal bed, the cold surface making me shiver slightly. There is a loud crash outside the door, followed by a bang and then the door opening to three of the most weirdly dressed individuals I have seen in my life. Vladia, the first woman introduces them as the prep team that would make me beautiful for the pageant. I try not to take offense at that. She has tinted pink skin and fluffy blue hair with glitter everywhere else. She isn't wearing any clothes. Only glitter and bright blue heels to match her hair. Vicky, the only man in my prep team of three looks the most normal - but not by much. The only altercation he has is his hair - which stands up to two feet tall and is bright, horrible green. It has mold-like things sticking out of it, and a few sharp pointed needles on top. He is wearing clothes, but a pair bright red shorts so short I can practically see all there is to see isn't really leaving much to the imagination. Putti is the other female on the team. She looks almost exactly like a tree, without wearing any clothes. I'm hoping they don't dress me up like her, as they've done practically every tribute before me. After a few minutes of mutual staring and observing, they rush forward, and I am overwhelmed by a flurry of color as the three of them crowd around me, muttering to themselves and exclaiming loudly about how fun it will be to work on me.

My senses are overloaded. A rush of color comes toward me, poking and prodding at all the parts of my body. My robe is discarded so I'm naked in front of my stylists, who try and rid me of any hair on my body. Funnily enough, I don't feel embarrassed. They don't look human enough for me to be truly embarrassed. It's probably an unkind thought, but it makes me feel more comfortable nonetheless, and seeing as I am the one - not them - that is going through the death games, I should be the one - not them - feeling comfortable. They wax my body resulting in red patches of raw skin that sting when I touch, and pluck the rest of the hair out with tweezers. Vikki works on my half bitten, worn nails by putting fakes on top of the real ones and shaping them up nicely. They're painted a light shade of green - a colour that actually looks surprisingly nice. I'm shocked that anything these people picked looks nice. I stay relatively still for the whole process – until they come near my locket. The moment that I feel Vladia remove my locket from my neck discomfort settles around me.

"No! Give it back! Give it back! I need my locket! My sister! She gave it to me! Give me my locket back!" I scream and kick and shout, but they just hold down my limbs and continue with the process. My voice is hoarse and my legs sore in a matter of a few minutes - the capitol scum not being able to handle my strength, have called in a few peacekeepers to hold me down - the process of pinning me to the table occurs so seamlessly they have probably done it many times before. but I need my locket. I need my Lia and Danny and Terry with me and that is the only piece of them I have. I will not let some capitol birds take that away from me. After they're done, they place the locket back on my bare body and the peacekeepers let me go, calming me down a little, but they've lost all trust I had in them. They try to get me to admire their handiwork in the full length mirror but I refuse downright to listen to the people who stole my locket. To make matters worse, I see that my clothes and boots are no where to be found, leaving me naked as they exit the room muttering to "stay where I am for my stylist".

I'm pretty sure they didn't like me either, judging by the nasty scratch Vladia now has on her cheek.

My stylist enters, a stark difference is noticeable between the prep team and him. He's tanned and has silky smooth black hair falling to his shoulders, but other than that looks perfectly normal. Like another lumberjack in seven. He even has the arms for it.

"My name is Alexander. You can call me Alex. I'm here to make this entire ordeal a little bit easier on you."

"With what?" I say, indignantly, still offended by his prep team, "clothes?"

He doesn't seem to be fazed by the rude manner in which I'm speaking to him. In fact, he seems to understand it, but still, I am weary towards him.

"Clothes are some of the most important parts of the games. They are a pageant after all. The opening ceremony is where future sponsors get a good look at the tributes. It's important to make an impression on them. Bad clothing means bad impression means no sponsors. It's quite simple." He replies, handing me a robe made of the same fluffy material as my bathroom towel. I shrug it on and follow him to a couch in the adjoining room.

"District seven provides lumber. But its also home to trees. I've been having them send the outfits you've chosen to wear to me for the past few days to get a feel for your taste and one particular outfit caught my eye. The white top and the pale green embroidered pant. It's the same fabric your sister wore to the reaping, right?"

"How-"

Before I could speak more, however, he glided out of his seat and pulled a dress out a cupboard that seemed to appear from nowhere. It was stunning, to say the least.

It has a white top layer with small flowers embroidered on it that shimmered if you looked at it in a particular light. An off shoulder sleeve that traveled to a deep v cut like a ball gown. The bottom skirt is a rich royal green like the canopy of the trees layered with green hues as though looking at a summer forest. Its long at the back and came right above the knees in the front. But the veil like cape is easily the most attractive feature of the dress. The veil is supposed to be pinned to my hair and flows down to my ankles. It's the pale green color of my sister's shirt, with the same embroidery except with beads instead of string.

I clap my hand to my mouth trying to hold back tears at the sight of the veil. I still remember how hard I worked to make that shirt. I had to trade every bit of gold we had left for string, but just seeing Lia's face when she saw the shirt was enough. It was all worth it.

"Thank you," I whisper quietly moving forward to take the veil in my hands.

"Thank you"

Published: September 16, 2022