The 49th Hunger Games

District 8 Styling: Camelia and Shadow

I sigh as my small team of stylists work to perfect me. I'm bored, and cramping, having lain in virtually the same position for ages, and my right hand aches from the death grip Edan holds it in as she violently files away my fingernail to turn it into a perfect oval shape. 

District 8 is textiles, so I there's no telling what my costume for the chariot ride is going to be. I view it like a farmers' market; the stylists are the farmers, and we are the cattle they want to sell, so they make us up as best they can. 

Orabela trills happily. "Okay, okay, Edan, Lazuli, let go!"

I groan with relief as Edan blows some off the loose fibres of nail off my fingers and steps back to join the other 2 girls, all grinning at me. Their expressions make me feel sick, knowing that they're trying to make me beautiful just so I won't die as fast as some of the others.

"We have your outfit, Camelia," Edan grins as if she can't wait to see the 'excitement' on my face when she shows me. 

"Yours and that boy, Shadow's!" Lazuli chimes in. 

I don't know why, but I don't really want to disappoint their happy little faces, so I sit up, completely naked, and pretend to clap enthusiastically. "Goodie!"

Edan squeals like a little girl, as if she hasn't seen another tribute actually smiling about the event. I'm not doubting she hasn't; the only tributes that ever seem to like the Games are the Careers, and they're not exactly sweet. Unless that's their rouse.

"Go on then, what is it?" I ask, trying to still sound joyful.

Lazuli dashes from the room awkwardly in her heels and reappears with a dress, not even mid-thigh length. I wonder about how I'm going to be able to cover up in that, but I'm also thinking about how it doesn't even look that bad.

____________________________________________________________________________

I look at myself, dressed and styled, in the mirror. Soon it'll be time for the chariot rides and I'm wondering if I'll get the crowd's attention or just the crowd's laughter. 

It's not too bad, what I'm wearing. If this is mine, I definitely can't wait to see Camelia's. I feel almost as if I'm dressed as a clown in my colourful suit, but there's nothing I can do now. Anyway, if this is what the Capitol likes, I suppose what would be ridiculed back in 8 will get sponsors out here.

It's bright and eye catching, I can say that much. I can see in the mirror behind me, that my stylists are practically having a fit. 

I sigh. "It's...okay, I suppose." I manage to get out. I wonder how Camelia's reacting to her outfit right now.

Before the young, excitable girls can react, Evelyn - my main stylist - enters, dismissing them. 

"What do you think?" she asks calmly, now that I'm alone with her. 

"It's a bit weird..." I say grudgingly.

She places a hand on my shoulder and rubs the fabric between her fingers with the other hand. "Very attention grabbing." she comments.

I don't respond, simply because I have nothing to say. 

"And in the Captiol, that's just what you need to be." she continues wisely, tapping me on the shoulder and swiftly leaving. 

I'm left staring at my chariot clothes in the mirror again. Alone.