THE BALLAD REBORN | Hunger Games

THREE

As I stepped off the train at the Capitol train station, I was immediately engulfed by the energy and excitement in the air. The people had gathered, eagerly waiting for the tribute train to arrive, their eyes filled with anticipation. It was a surreal experience, knowing that their attention was directed towards me, a participant in the Hunger Games.

As the crowd caught sight of me, a tribute from District 5, their voices erupted into cheers and shouts. Amongst the cacophony, I could make out my name, "Cordelia," being yelled by grown men. It was both unsettling and exhilarating to have strangers recognize me and show their support.

Putting on a brave face, I waved at the crowd, acknowledging their presence and expressing gratitude for their support. It was all part of the act, the image I had to project to survive in this twisted game. The Capitol citizens expected a show, and I had to deliver.

Walking beside me was David, my fellow tribute and ally in this ruthless competition. I noticed a smirk on his face as he reveled in the attention, particularly from the female members of the crowd. David had always been charming, using his charisma to his advantage. It was clear that he enjoyed the admiration and adoration from the Capitol citizens, fueling his confidence.

As we made our way through the crowd, we were soon escorted to a designated area where we would be prepared for the tribute parade. It was time to transform ourselves into the dazzling figures the Capitol expected us to be. The preparation would involve elaborate costumes, makeup, and hairstyling to ensure we made a lasting impression during the parade.

As the transformation process began, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement, nervousness, and apprehension. The parade was the first opportunity to showcase ourselves to the entire nation, and it could set the tone for our journey in the Hunger Games. It was crucial to captivate the audience and leave a lasting impression.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself of the reason I was here—to fight for survival and bring honor to my district. The Hunger Games may be a cruel and unforgiving competition, but I was determined to stay true to myself and find a way to outwit the Capitol's games.

With newfound determination, I focused on the task at hand, ready to embrace the transformation and make my mark on the tribute parade.

I sat in the small holding room, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was cold and sterile, devoid of any warmth or comfort. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and in walked my stylist. She was a striking woman with piercing blue eyes and vibrant orange hair with tiger stripes that seemed to defy gravity. Her presence exuded confidence and a hint of mystery. As she entered, her eyes locked onto mine, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Cordelia, I presume?" she said, her voice carrying a melodic quality.

I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Yes, that's me. And you must be Tigris, my stylist."

Tigris chuckled softly, her smile widening. "Indeed, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Cordelia. I've heard great things about your courage and determination."

I felt a surge of pride at her words. "Thank you. I'll do my best in the Games, I promise."

Tigris walked closer, her eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and determination. She reached out and gently placed her hand on my shoulder. "I believe in you, Cordelia. We'll work together to make sure you have the best chance possible. We'll create a look that captures your spirit and showcases your strengths."

Her words reassured me, and I began to relax, realizing that I wasn't alone in this daunting journey. Tigris was here to guide me, to transform me into someone who could captivate the audience and potentially gain sponsors. I knew I would need every advantage I could get in the arena.

I returned her smile, feeling a glimmer of hope in my chest. "Thank you, Tigris. I trust you. Let's show them what we're capable of."

Tigris nodded, her eyes gleaming with a mix of determination and a hint of defiance. "Absolutely, Cordelia. Together, we'll make sure the Capitol and the rest of Panem never forget your name."

As we stood there, united in our goal, I couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude. With Tigris by my side, I knew that even in the midst of the Hunger Games, I wouldn't be facing it alone.

After I am almost done our stylist moved us into a joint room to observe their creation. As I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of my revealing outfit, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and discomfort. Tigris and Flora,the stylist assigned to us, insisted that our costumes needed to be eye-catching, representing District 5 in the most extravagant way possible. I looked over at my District partner, David, who seemed equally uneasy in his attire.

"Is this really necessary?" I grumbled, turning to Tigris. "I feel so exposed."

"Trust me, Cordelia, this is how the Capitol wants to see you. It's all about making an impression and attracting sponsors. The people here love a spectacle."

I sighed, reluctantly accepting her explanation. Tigris had been working closely with us, preparing us for the parade, but I couldn't shake off my discomfort. As we made our way through the parade route, riding on elaborately adorned horses, the crowd's reaction was mixed. Some cheered and clapped enthusiastically, while others looked on with curiosity or even disdain.

I couldn't help but notice that the cheers were mostly directed at me, leaving David in the shadows. It bothered me, as I knew we were in this together, but I also understood that certain tributes tend to capture more attention than others. The Hunger Games had always been a ruthless competition, not just for survival but for gaining favor and support.

After the parade, we returned to the starting point where Stella introduced us to Haymitch Abernathy, a mentor for District 12. Haymitch was a former victor and known for his drinking habits, but he had a reputation for being shrewd and resourceful.

As Haymitch studied me closely, I felt a shiver run down my spine. He leaned in, whispering, "You've got President Snow's eyes." The revelation startled me. Haymitch saw the similarities, but he couldn't possibly know the truth.

I quickly composed myself and nodded, trying to hide any indication of the personal connection between me and the ruthless leader of Panem. Haymitch's observation.

Finally, the day came to a close, and Stella led us to our suite in the tribute center. It was a luxurious space, a stark contrast to the harsh realities we were about to face. The room was adorned with lavish furnishings, a stark reminder of the opulence enjoyed by the Capitol citizens.

As I settled into the comfort of the suite, I couldn't help but reflect on the events of the day. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in my ears, and I wondered what lay ahead for me and David in the Hunger Games. The thought of the impending battle sent a chill down my spine, but I knew that I had to stay strong.