WE ARE ALL BORN TO DIE;
"I don't know how to act in front of these people. Am I supposed to act like I actually condone what they do to us in that Arena?! You can't expect me to just stand idly by like dog in a Capitol talent show; parading us aroun...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dahlia was being torn apart and scorned by their weapons. The blurring lights overhead and the blazing hair colours of each person scrubbing the well-hygienic girl. Each individual in the team knew that she was clean, it was just protocol. However, the District Four resident had her suspicions that they were enjoying this just a bit too much. "Make way! Make way! Ahh... what a beautiful specimen! Where's my brute?" The girl on the table, now sat up, caught sight of her escort rolling her eyes at the arrival/
Viola drew away, soon returning with the preened version of her best friend. His shaggily splayed hair, was scattered in a way that others would adorn 'attractive'. The only improvement Dahlia would have thought to make.
He had never seen her hair down before, always had it done in her signature ponytail.
She reminded him of Mrs Woods in that second, his eyes darted to the claret-locked, plastically arranged male stood in front of his standing position. "I choose you as my Muse! Davina will have my unskilled apprentice, that face and body could make anything look magnifique! Paul, you are very lucky to have I, Flutter Wickersmith, as your Stylist! I am renowned around The Capit-"
The girl ignored the fact that he had called her 'Davina' instead of 'Dahlia', it didn't even sound remotely similar- only possessing the same first and last letter as one another.
Her vision met her friend, currently being dragged away, who seemed as equally vexed by his Stylist's ignorance at his name and at the very probably fact that 'Flutter Wickersmith' was the man dressing him for the entirety of his time in The Capitol. A fate worse than death. "I'm so gutted I didn't get the wondrous Flutter Wickersmith as my Stylist..." It caused all four Capitol residents in her quadrant to guffaw or stifle their laughs at the sarcasm.
"His name is actually Colin Asspole, but you didn't hear that from me..." A silkily sleek male voice filled the silence of Flutter's outburst in all but a whisper. The man must have been slightly older, more mature than either Pike or herself- maybe mid to late twenties.
He reminded her slightly of her escort. They both wore minimalistic styled make-up and clothing, contrasting to their counterparts surrounding the room- as well as, their shared Capitol accent that was less pronounced.
It reminded her of her mother.
Everybody was amused by his statement, even Dahlia- who secretly hoped that this none-Capitol appearing man was the apprentice that Flutter spoke of before darting back to his preparation area.
His golden eyeliner grew more apparent as his being grew closer to the seventeen-year-old, it meshed perfectly with his glossy skin. His taste was simple, yet effective- the noir fabric shifted whilst he walked.
The shirt was clearly his own work; beautiful was to say the least- and Dahlia would vouch for that. The matching bottom assemble contorted the fabric whilst he bent onto one knee, face peering down at the girl. "My name is Cinna."
