"Dahlia Blossom. Don't let the name fool you. She's better known as the Black Dahlia. And she didn't earn that nickname by smiling and looking pretty."
"She sure knows how to perform for the camera."
"Because she knows how to play the game. She alwa...
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The one thing Dahlia dreaded the most about the Tribute Parade was the intense beauty regiment that would be inflicted upon her body beforehand. Having every strand of hair plucked from her body and her skin being scrubbed so thoroughly she was convinced there would be nothing left but bone were painful yet unavoidable procedures which Dahlia would never enjoy. Ever. By the time she was sent away to wait for her stylist, she had already pissed off a number of the styling assistants with her incessant curses and complaints, and nearly killed the waxing lady armed with only a pair of blunt scissors, one latex glove and a lot of pent-up rage. Her temper had grown a lot shorter over the years and, this time around, Dahlia wasn't afraid to give those torturers a piece of her mind.
"There she is!" A delighted gasp was heard from behind her, making Dahlia whirl round to find a familiar face staring back. "My dazzling muse."
"Juno?" Dahlia exclaims softly, surprised to see the woman return to styling after her years of success designing for the Capitol. "What are you doing here?"
"You didn't think I'd let one of those newbie stylists go anywhere near my darling Victor, did you?" Juno retorts with a playfully disappointed shake of her head, striding forward to engulf the shocked girl in a brief hug. "You've grown so much, Dahlia." Pulling back, Juno cups the girl's face with a fond smile and sympathetic gaze. "It's a shame to be reunited under such... unfortunate circumstances."
Dahlia scoffs at Juno's purposely neutral description with a roll of her eyes, grumbling, "That's an understatement."
"Oh, I've missed your dreary groans of disapproval." Juno laughs wholeheartedly, not taking the girl's words seriously and brushing the tension of the upcoming Games aside. "Now, let's get you dressed!" Practically squealing in excitement, Juno grips onto Dahlia's arm and drags her away, yapping non-stop about the outfit she's created. "I've been saving this for a monumental occasion! It is truly my masterpiece. The highlight of my career!"
Dahlia grimaces and, through gritted teeth, grunts a sarcastic, "Can't wait."
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•
It hadn't taken long for Finnick to get ready for the Parade. Mainly due to the fact that there wasn't much to his outfit in way of material or coverage. His stylist wanted him to show as much skin as possible for the benefit of the Capitol women. He didn't care about them. The only woman he loved would be going into the Games with him.
He hadn't seen Dahlia since the Quarter Quell announcement was made and it killed him inside to not be with her. All he yearned for in his darkest moments these last few days were her. Mags had tried her best to comfort him but he had been inconsolable. How could Snow expect him to go into those Games and emerge as the Victor? It wouldn't be happening. Finnick will perish in that arena if it meant that Dahlia would live on.
"Hey, loverboy." Johanna greets the man, resting her arm on his shoulder as she lets her eyes scan their surroundings. "Where's your other half?"
"Not here yet." Finnick answers glumly, not ashamed to admit that he had been waiting desperately for her arrival. Johanna smirks at his disheartened expression, wondering how the pair survived residing in different districts.
