A/N: Hey everyone! Again, thanks for reading thus far. Feedback is always a huge plus! Another note is that the "media" or picture or whatever the pic is..? The header? Well the image of the female is Cherokee! bandposters might post the Atlas pic but I'm not sure. She probably is. Anyways enjoy this challenge!
I felt the sun's rays beating down into the room. I pulled the blanket even higher and over my head so that the light wouldn't bother me. It didn't do much help since the sheets were nearly transparent. During the night the bed spread moved around with my tossing and turning and eventually ended up on the ground. I didn't even bother to pick it back up; exhaustion took its toll on my being.
It was fairly early in the morning, maybe 6 or 7 and not a single soul was stirring in the train; it was quite tranquil and quiet. From the other side of the bed, Atlas took a deep breath and sprawled out. He flung his arm out and whacked me straight on the chest. I jumped awake and sat up quickly just as Atlas shot up and fell out of bed.
"Oh my god Cherokee?! What are you doing in my room? And in my bed?! Oh my god... We didn't right?! Please tell me we didn't!" Atlas yelled, panic rising in his voice.
I scooted back on the bed and fell backwards onto the bed spread. "No! Of course not! Don't you remember?! I had a nightmare and asked if I can sleep with you! You called me the biggest baby!" I yelled back, panicking mentally. I leaned back and pondered, "You thought we had S-E-X?! WE JUST MET!" My brain wasn't awake enough to process all this.
Atlas stood up and ran his hands through his hair. "Damn.. I-I don't remember any of that.. But it does sound familiar.... Where did I hurt you?" Atlas asked, sitting on the bed and leaning over to help me up. I grabbed his hand and stood up, too embarrassed to say he whacked me right in the boob.
"Just my arm." I said simply, rubbing my temples once more. God, not another headache I thought.
Atlas shrugged and stood up confused. "I think I'm going to shower.. Now where is my towel?"
I watched him and smiled slightly, "Walk straight about 5 steps and then turn left. Walk about 8 or 9 steps and the towel is on the floor from when you threw it at me!"
Atlas smirked and followed my instructions. I observed him and saw the rat's nest on top of his head. This boy has severe bed head and only the pulsating water jets can matte it down. I snickered and laid back down on the bed.
Atlas picked up his towel and retreated to the bathroom without my instructions. He's got that place all figured out.
I didn't necessarily want to leave. It was cold in the train and the sheets kept me warm. To cure my boredom, I looked in the drawers of the nightstand and found a pen and a journal. Finally, something I was used to. I leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed the journal and pen and began scribbling and doodling. There really was no meaning behind it, just that expressing myself through words and art helped me collect my thoughts.
I sat back and looked at my nails, trying to come up with a poem to describe my current situation. Nothing came to mind because all I could focus on was the water hitting the porcelain shower floor and Atlas humming a tune I was quite unfamiliarized with. His music reminded me I had to get ready before that grumpy old man or Nerias came searching for me and found me in Atlas' room.
I stood up, journal and pen pressed tightly against my chest, and walked to the bathroom. "Atlas? I'm going to get ready. I'll meet you in the dining room, okay? I'll set your clothes out on the bed. We don't want you trashing your entire room again!"
Atlas laughed softly and simply said, "Okay." And with that, I went out to his room, picked out his outfit and set it down on the bed, and retreated back to my room to shower and get dressed.
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I finally was making my way to the dining room. After a mishap where I didn't know how to control the water temperature, couldn't find an outfit to wear, and my hair wasn't cooperating with me, I was strolling through the cars with pen and journal in hand.
It was still fairly early, about 8:30 or so. That gave me enough time to sneak in a breakfast and scribble my thoughts on paper while everyone was still trying to wake up and get ready. Atlas shortly stumbled into the room, still humming his little tune. He sat down next to me and began to eat his breakfast as song lyrics filled my head.
We sat in silence, kinda. Atlas was chewing and I was mumbling my lyrics out loud to make sure they sounded right. Other than that, no one else made a noise.
Samual and Nerias walked into the room, almost right after each other, and they sat down opposite to us. They began to give us more tips.
"We are nearly at the Capitol. You both already have one of the weakest reputations with all of that crying and stumbling around like drunken idiots. When we enter the Capitol, we are going to roll up the shades and its your job to look aggressive yet sweet and approachable. Almost.. Two faced." Said Samual, waving his cane around to give emphasis to his words. Nerias nodded with him and kept quiet. Something was really bothering him but he wasn't going to tell us anytime soon.
"As for alliances, I wouldn't necessarily worry about that right now. They all turn on each other in the end.." Samual continued, eyes hazing over as he was about to cry.
"...Anyways! We're practically here! Your prep team and head stylist will meet you when we get off the train. Nerias and I will meet you all tonight after the event, we have a couple of things to do before we meet up with you. The stylist and preparatory team will prepare you for what I have been told as the Chariot Ride. You will be prepped for this event and thus will officially begin the Hunger Games." Samual concluded.
The men ate while I doodled, muttering words to make sure they're correct and not awkward sounding. Nerias stood up after wiping his mouth and he muttered to Samual, "It's time."
Samual stood up and hobbled after Nerias, closing the door behind him. The cleaners rushed in and cleaned the table up. Together, they changed the furniture until it looked like Atlas and I were casually sitting on the couch together. The people left and we were left alone for a split second, giving me enough time to close my journal and stash it under the couch.
The shades rolled up and I helped Atlas walk towards the window. A smile was plastered on his face and he waved slowly, as if he was waving to every individual. The girls took one look at Atlas and swooned. An unfamiliar feeling grew in the pit of my stomach. I grasped his sleeve and tried to smile as big as he was, trying to ignore the overly excited girls. I waved along with him and pressed closer to him, getting defensive at heart.
The capitol was extremely excited as they saw our train arrive. They waved at us, some cheered, some booed, some were unamused, others had a fire in their eyes as they saw us walk down the steps. So it was true; people from the Capitol look like crazed animals with their short poofy skirts, ruffled dress shirts, bright colored wigs, and the most unattractive shoes I have ever seen. What kinda drug were these people tripping on?
Atlas and I stayed together as we waited for our prep team to arrive. They eventually did, after a bombardment of pictures and questions before hand. These people were relatively normal, except for their eccentric hair color choice. They introduced themselves simply as our prep team. They split into two teams and dragged Atlas away from me as we rushed into an unfamiliar building.
My "team" busied over themselves to get me cleaned and flawless from imperfections. They scrubbed my face and scalp until they were both sore and burning. Yes, burning.
These women grabbed my hands and feet and looked at my nails; they didn't approve of their appearance. Soon my feet were being soaked in water and the nails were being brushed, trying to bring out the shine of my neglected toes. My fingernails were apparently too short so they applied fake nails on top of my real nails. They looked like talons, really.
After my body was scrubbed away from my dirt and grime, they began fussing over my hair and face. Some women worked on my hair and the rest of the women busied over my make up. They applied so much, in my opinion. They applied a skin tone shade of foundation and then began to fiddle over my eyes. They applied eyeliner and extended the wing slightly further than what I was usually used to, giving me an edgier look. After applying false eyelashes, they used a lash curler to mush my two set of lashes together. Soon after they applied mascara. They after grabbed a bronzer and contoured my cheeks, lips, jaw, and nose. To make my face look brighter they applied blush and highlighter. Once everything was finished, they set a setting spray over my face and began to work on my lips. They spread the matte red lipstick over my lips and then used a corrector to make fine lines for the lipstick so it doesn't look messy. My face felt like everything was caked on. But there was nothing I could do now. It would take years to take all this makeup off.
Giving up on pulling away from their hands, I leaned back and let them continue so they can finish as soon as possible. I heard the doors open and Atlas mumbling in anger to himself. Opening my eyes slightly, I saw as they pushed Atlas down on the chair next to me and they gushed over his appearance, saying he looked fantastic but they needed to accentuate his features even further so everyone can see from afar. He also gave up trying to defend himself so he retorted to humming the same tune as before.
Atlas finished before I did so they dragged him away to another room so he can get dressed. Shortly after, I was led to the same room. A man was sitting in a chair, waiting expectantly for me.
"Hello. My name is Cristobal Hoyt, your stylist. Ready to see what I envisioned for district 6?! It's bold and it will make you all stand out from the rest of the districts." Cristobal said.
I shrugged and nodded. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. Might as well nod and smile, right?
The man stood up and he walked over to a feminine looking mannequin wearing a very interesting outfit.
"Being from the transportation district, I designed this outfit for you and Atlas. The pants are retired tire rubber so it is very authentic. Atlas' pants are a bit baggier on him because he is the man from the pair. They do come with pockets but yours are smaller. These pants are also suppose to accentuate your hips and your legs, which is why your pants are a bit skinner. The shirt is a "dirtied" muscle shirt. This time, Atlas has a tighter shirt to give an allusion of a very bulky, strong body and yours is a bit loose. Not that much. Now try it on!" Cristobal said, excitement in his eyes.
I nodded at him and waited for him to leave the room so I can put the outfit on. It wasn't the prettiest thing to wear but it did make me feel like a total bad-ass.
Cristobal walked in the room moments later and he smiled at how I looked. He walked around me and fitted the shirt the way it was suppose to look like. He then stopped in front of me and looked at my hair. "This," he began, "is atrocious!"
He reached out and took out all the pins and ties in my hair. "I saw your reaping video and the hair you had then fits you perfectly for now."
Cristobal then began to recreate my mother's hair style, a braid on the side of my head that led into a pony tail with wisps of curls in the end. He stepped back when he finished and smiled. "Perfect!" He called out to what seemed to be directed to him. He walked around me once more, twirling my misshaped curls back to place with his fingers and pulling the shirt up or down so it fitted my body type even better. When he finished, he ushered me out of the room into the hands of my prep team.
They guided me through several corridors until we made it outside. 12 chariots were lined up in numerical order. My chariot was right in the middle with Atlas standing proudly on the chariot, looking very handsome in his outfit.
I ran passed my prep team to my chariot and playfully whistled at Atlas. "Someone looks nice!" I said, as I pushed myself up onto the chariot. Atlas was wearing the baggier version of my pants yet a tighter version of my shirt just like Cristobal had said. His hair was spiked up slightly and his jaw set once in a while to look tough. Overall, he was the ideal definition of a total bad-ass. He chuckled as I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself and said, "I would say the same thing to you! If I wasn't blind."
I smiled and waited for everyone to get situated on their rides. My heart began to pound as I realized that everyone would be watching me because I was the piece of meat they were feeding to the lion. After this moment, life will be about surviving.
I brushed my hands on my pants as the doors opened and the horses began to trot. "Fuck.. I really wish I had my journal right now." I said nervously, chuckling at myself. Atlas looked over at me and said, "What do you write about usually?"
I shrugged and whispered, "Stupid stuff.." As our horses dragged our chariot out so all can see.
Atlas leaned over and patted around for my hand. I quickly grabbed it and held on tightly, trying to forget that my hands were super sweaty from being nervous. We drew closer to an open circle. My heart beated faster as the cheers and screaming intensified. Once in a while I would hear a girl screaming out Atlas' name. That same feeling came back to my stomach and every time I heard Atlas' name, I would set my jaw and try not to glare towards the direction of the voice.
I squeezed Atlas' hand repeatedly as I tried to force myself to calm down. Atlas leaned over and took a deep breath as to collect his thoughts. He squeezed my hand gently and brushed his thumb over my hand and whispered softly in my ear the lyrics I was writing earlier in my journal to the tune from today.
I gasped and looked over at him, "H-how did you know my lyrics?"
Atlas smiled and said, "I'm blind Cherokee, not deaf."
I blushed and held his hand tightly just as we made our way into the circle. Atlas continued to sing my lyrics but only loud enough so that I could hear and not anyone else. I have never felt so pink in my entire life.
Atlas stopped singing soon after our horses stopped and moments later, President Jenkins stood up on the balcony type area and cleared his throat. From here, he looks like a very short man but his eyes burned with something unfamiliar.. Anger, revenge? Cynical pride? Whatever it was, it looked very menacing. I squeezed Atlas' hand gently and I began to lace my fingers with his to comfort myself and he squeezed back softly adding more to my comfort.
President Jenkins made his way to the podium and when he did, all of Panem fell silent to linger on every single one of his words.
"Welcome tributes," he began, his eyes falling on every single one of us. "It's an honor to finally see all twenty-four of you here and ready to represent your home district. We, as a nation, are proud of each of you who will be in the first ever Hunger Games. May the first Hunger Games begin!" President Jenkins concluded, raising his hands up so that his captivated audience can cheer. He got a standing ovation for a speech that sounded like it would be repeated for many years to come. Us, the 24 tributes, are the first but we won't be the last in this blood bath.
Our nation's anthem played as the chariots were led through another gate. I was too distracted to fully comprehend what the president has just said. Nerias and Samual both greeted us at the gate with glowing smiles. "You both did great! Atlas whatever you were saying to Cherokee has the entire Capitol curious! Great job! And Cherokee! You looked.." Nerias called out with a proud smile. He looked over at me and coughed, recollecting himself. "Good job you two. Let's go have dinner then off to bed, we have a long day tomorrow."
Nerias turned on his heels and walked away. A twang hit my heart as he retreated down the corridor. Whatever his problem is, it's gotta be about me. Samual looked over his shoulder at him and back at us. He chuckled and gave us a thumbs up before following Nerias.
Atlas and I soon followed after them. I looked down and saw that we were still holding hands. It might of been because he needs me to guide him or because we were simply just holding hands. Whatever the reason, it felt fantastic. I blushed and sighed contently. Not because of the war I was fighting but because someone actually listened to what I say, even if I was mumbling. No one has ever sang me a song, yet alone a song I created myself. It seemed.. Special and a perfect way to end this terrible day.