The Writing Games (:

Ripples of Change

Next came the hair and makeup. The bathrobe they put on her was like she was wearing the clouds themselves, and she was shocked when she saw how many cosmetics these people had. They even had a tool to curl her eyelashes! She never would have thought of that; could people really see the difference? Regardless, it didn’t matter what she thought because her stylist team was going all out with Lenore at the head of operations. Vexare wasn’t about to get in this woman’s way. No point in killing anybody yet, she thought with a smirk.

However, slowly, another emotion began to creep over her. She was in the capitol—a place where only moments ago, she had been glaring at the people who lived here in complete disgust for their ease of life—and now she was being subjected to their spoils. Worst of all, she was loving it. She hated that, and guilt hit her like a tidal wave. The only thing was, she didn’t understand why.

Why the hell should she care about all the kids who had competed in the hunger games before her? None of them had ever stopped to spare so much as a loaf of bread for her all those years she was starving and lurking on the streets. Instead, they blamed her for their problems and cast her aside as an outsider—a danger to their precious little coal mining district. Even her own mother.

Then there was Avriette. She would have given anything to be seeing all the colors in the capitol and the pretty dresses, but she wasn’t here. She never would be. Vexare had failed her. At the moment, her body began to tense, her heartbeat sped up, and her fingernails dug in to the fancy styling chair as she resisted the urge to blow up in everyone’s face.

It’s not their fault Vex; it’s nobody else’s problem but yours! She tried to convince herself for the moment. It seemed to calm her enough, but the more she contemplated her situation, the more frustrated she got. Finally, she voiced her concerns. “That’s enough.”

“Nonsense dear, we’re almost done. People here love their glitter,” Lenore assured her, urging the stylist to continue.

Vexare’s sharpened reflexes reached out and grabbed the woman’s wrist before she put one more mark on her face. She didn’t grab it hard enough to hurt, just enough to keep her distance, but the girl seemed startled all the same. “I said that’s enough,” she reinforced.

“Good lord child. I’ve never seen anybody with such apprehension to capitol life! At least let us finish making it all even, if only for the reason of saving yourself the embarrassment. Then you have to get dressed.”

She nodded her approval, attempting a faint smile at the stylist she had previously snapped at to show that it was safe for her to approach. The girl still seemed suspicious, but she found encouragement when Vex ignored her altogether and gently folder her arms in her lap and gazed at herself in the mirror.

First came the cleanliness. Vexare couldn’t find a smidge of dirt on her, and her hair looked like an even lighter blonde than she remembered it being before it had become matted with sewer grit and ashes from the mines. It was…beautiful! It cascaded over her shoulders in neat curls like bright starlight at slightly different lengths, bringing out the outstanding purple of her eyes.

If she thought her glare was good before, it was nothing compared to what it looked like now. The purple of her eyes was piercing of course, but it was brought out by the dark mascara that gave her long, daring lashes. The very tips of her lashes were just barely colored orange.  Dark amber stick-on jewels dotted the edges of her eyes from just above her eye brows and downward, getting lighter as they went along. The fierce glow of her exotic, lightly coppered skin complimented the orange which she knew was supposed to represent the fires of the mines of District 12. Other than that, a light sprinkle of additional glitter was thrown onto her cheeks and her eyebrows had been slightly darkened to match her darker tones.

Lenore took a few strands of her curls to pin them back halfway with what looked like orange clips shaped like mocking jays with a black jewels for the eyes. Vexare wasn’t just pretty…she was stunningly gorgeous. She couldn’t even imagine what her outfit would look like. She’d seen a lot of the work in the past with the dresses that the representative would twirl and light with fire, and she prayed that she would not share the same fate.

Even though she knew it’d be designed not to hurt her, her past made her only fear creep up on her like a cat waiting to pounce. She was surprised when Lenore returned with her outfit. It was a black warrior suite that was extremely skimpy—very revealing—and it had orange gems laced into it that looked as though someone had captured a small bundle of fire and magically encoded it inside of the beautiful stones.

She hastily put it on before receiving a cloak that would cover her up until the last second when she was instructed to fling it off and throw it to the surrounding capital audience. It was black and hooded so that her appearance would be a complete surprise, and a staggering impression from the ragged, dirty mess she’d been at the Reaping. “Thank you,” Vex found herself breathing in awe at how she looked in both of the gifts.

“No need for that dear; this is our job,” Lenore told her. “But we need to hurry up and get you to the chariot now before it leaves without you.”

“Wouldn’t that be an uproar,” Vexare said with a smirk, almost contemplating pulling such a stunt, but a stern glare from Lenore urged her otherwise. Their minor dispute was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek coming from somewhere nearby. Both women went running toward the sound.

Moments later, they arrived back in the parlor to find the ladies in waiting gawking at a huge creature slithering across the floor. Some of them were standing on top of the vanity sets and another one of them was even cowering inside of the bathtub. “Who let that filthy animal—“ Lenore started before Vexare could cut her off.

“He’s my friend. His name is Ramir,” she explained, scooping him up and letting him coil around her neck as she shot him a scolding look. She knew he’d be lurking somewhere; she’d stashed him away in her small bag of belongings before she’d gotten on the train. Vex just wished he hadn’t chosen here. At first, she was afraid Lenore would insist she put the snake outside, but she held a different reaction entirely.

“Oh this is marvelous!” she exclaimed. “Just stunning! That snake makes you look all the more threatening!”

Vexare smiled at that, giving Ramir an affectionate pat as a giant bell sounded from somewhere in the capitol.

“Goodness! We really need to get you to the chariots. They’ll be starting the spectacle any minute now.”

Vex followed her diligently, curious to see the chariots up close and what the other tributes would be looking like. However, Vexare felt herself freeze as the District 12 chariot came in to view. Instead of the usual horses that pulled them along, two massive grizzly bears stood in their place, their bodies covered in black armor that was offset by the same orange gems that were on Vex’s warrior outfit. Thin traces of orange zig-zagged through the armor as well, illuminating the armor with what looked like molten lava oozing through a system of tubing.

One of the giant bears released a throaty roar upon her arrival, his coal black eyes staring back at her intently. Lenore thrust a whip in her hand. “For the bears,” she explained. The whip was a dull, ashen black, but she could see sparks of orange leap across it with the slightest movement. “It will ignite in flames once wielded. That should be shortly after you relinquish your cloak,” she added, thrusting Vexare forward.

Vex took a deep breath as she climbed up beside Avery who was also wearing a black cloak to match. He shot her a friendly smile, but she was trying to focus. The chariots in front of them begin to roll slowly forward and the bears heaved forward. She could hear the wild roar of the crowd as they approached the viewing area. Again, she wondered how the other tributes were doing, but as the capitol light cast onto her own chariot, her thoughts of others drifted away and the reality of the situation seemed to hit her like a train wreck.