𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒔 ⤷ the hunger games .

[ 𝒗𝒊. ] MADE OF STONE

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six.
「 MADE OF STONE 」

The chair she's lying on reminds her of the chair she sat in when she had to reconstruct her wrist. Actually, the entire room is white and sterile, sending her right back to being thirteen years old with a shattered radius. Eros is outside, unable to come in while the procedure takes place and the doctor's intimidatingly pretty with a blinding white smile and a soothing voice.

Now, however, her prep team is wandering around her, rubbing lotion into her skin and plucking hairs from the fine parts. There's not much work to do for her, they've told her, on account of her being from a wealthy district and a good family. She's had to keep up appearances her entire life so her body's pretty much perfect – at least, that's what Bia, the leader of the prep team told her. Bia's white from head to toe, snow colored hair, paper colored skin and eyes, and cloud colored clothing. She's hovering over Dalia carefully, murmuring something under her breath and motioning to the other two artists to do something to her legs.

She shuts her eyes, taking in a deep breath and trying to think back on the tapes they were viewing in the private waiting room. Olympia won't tell them how she got the tapes, but Dalia's figured by now that it's probably best not knowing. Trainee files are hard to obtain, they're classified for a reason. Academies are technically illegal, tributes aren't supposed to have prior training – it's in the official handbook she's sure, but since the career districts are favored, the Capitol just happens to look the other way.

Dalia thinks about the career pack, her worthy opponents who've probably already seen her files as well. She thinks about Cassia Heavenbloom, the ethereal beauty from District One who wields a spear skillfully. She thinks about Hurley Seacress from District Four, who fights with a spear and a net, like an old gladiator and radiates ancient deity vibes. Intimidation fills her gut like cement because she knows they're supposed to be her allies, but she doesn't know if she'll be good enough to take them out when they become her enemies.

Bia claps loudly and Dalia opens her eyes to look at the tall woman.

"You are heaven sent," she tells her, booping her nose. "I absolutely love working with the higher districts, their tributes are the best, wouldn't you agree?"

The other two nod in sync, identical women dressed in the same rose gold tone as Caeser Flickerman. They've got rose gold metal glued to their faces as well, making them look like the cyborgs Dalia's watched on the television back home.

"Don't tell the other tribute I said this, but you're literally the prettiest one this year," Bia continues, now moving closer to let her hair down from the clip she put in two minutes ago. "Prettier than those District One tributes, prettier than the District Four tributes, you know – I've always been such a big fan of District Two, I can't believe I have my dream job."