The 73rd Hunger Games

Tribute Parade

✖️Note: you don't have to tell me, it's been such a long time since I updated! Sorry! I honestly never forgot, but considered not continuing, partly because I'm very lazy, and partly because it wasn't getting that much reads. So please please please share this story among your friends ✖️

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I show up for breakfast with blotchy eyes. I feel ready to eat, and silently slip onto the table, where Cordo and Massie are eating fancy pastries. Cordo nods at me as we meet eyes but I just sit down and nibble on some fruit.

"Orchid!" exclaims Massie. "What happened to your eyes?" I glare daggers at her, so cruelly oblivious to the terror reigning through my body.

Cordo looks at me uncomfortably for a moment then turns to Massie.

"Say Massie, what's waiting for us when we reach the Capitol?" He stuffs the rest of the pastry in his mouth and reaches out for the platter of cheeses in front of him. I couldn't blame his tactics I guess, stock up now; who knows what he'll eat in the arena.

"I'm glad you asked Cordo! I am so excited for you both to meet your stylist Crowell. He is a favoured, should I say stylist in the Capitol. One of the best if I do say so myself! Not to blow our own trumpet but I'm sure district 11 is a shoe in for making and impression!"

"This Crowell," Cordo says through a mouthful of cheese. "Have you heard any of his ideas?"

Massie looks slightly disgusted at the poor boy stuffing his face next to her. "We will have to work on your manners," she grimaces, her nose upturned. "Do not speak with your mouth full."

Cordo shrugs at steals a glance at me, raising his eyebrows. I look back mockingly, a smile tracing my lips, but he didn't push me to talk to him. I bit into a grape and felt the zany flavour explode on my tongue.

"Swworry," he murmurs as he trys to swallow the food.

Massie smiles somewhat uncomfortably. "Yes, I have spoken to Crowell and his ideas are visionary! Your outfits for the tribute parade are to be highly inspired by agriculture and the bare beauty of the district. Let me just say that."

I wonder what she meant by bare beauty, and for a moment I was back in district 12, in the nostalgic dream where everything looked fairy like. An easier time.

"Speaking of which, I think we are arriving at the Capitol now!" Massie exclaimed, and then added in a mutter, "Somebody please wake Chaff."

. . . . .

An hour later, I was washed and sitting in a plush seat in a white room with Cordo. We silently awaited whatever was to follow from reaching the Capitol.

"Maybe we'll meet Crowell," Cordo suggests into the silence. I sit there with my head in my hands; trying to calm myself down. Except the horror felt so much more real now that I was actually here in the Capitol. I don't look up, as Cordo's comment faded into the nothingness. "Well," he tries again. "Sounds like a right fool to me. Pssht', bare beauty? There's nothing beautiful about district 11."

Once again I was back in the soothing euphoria of my dream but held my tongue. It felt like forever since I'd talked, which was ironic because Crista always moaned I'd never shut up. Cordo tilts his head to the side to get a better look at me. I peer at him through the gaps my fingers have made.

"What's your deal Orchid? Why aren't you talking?" I stay quiet for a moment and he adds with a grin, "Can you talk?"

"Yes, I can," I croak. It's weird to hear my voice out there again, it feels like it's been so long. "I just am choosing not to waste my words here."