❝𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒❞ | k. everdeen

chapter 4: the last dance.

—The outfit is phenomenal, really —Nola repeated over and over again as she looked in the mirror the last few minutes before leaving for the carriages. Her District being in charge of masonry, her stylists had no better idea than to dress her as a sexy worker. She wore a heavy armor covering her chest, revealing some of her cleavage, and also part of her shoulders; and something that emulated a black armor skirt that also left little to the imagination. When she was left alone with Enobaria's company, standing behind her in front of the mirror, Nola made a vomiting gesture—. I hate my fucking life right now. Can you believe they really didn't have a better idea than to dress me in this? It's hideous. I don't even want to imagine what Brutus will be wearing.

Enobaria bit the inside of her cheeks to keep the laughter from betraying her serious countenance. The styling of the parades had never been what had most caught the attention of the sponsors, but rather the attitude of the future tributes as they wore them and strolled around the City Circle. Still, Nola knew for sure that it wouldn't be others who would steal the show than those from District 12, accustomed to so much attention and after the previous year's staging.

—At least you still have a good body to pull it off.

Nola sighed as she fixed her locks of hair close to her face and adjusted the armor on her chest—. No, it certainly fits me like a goddess. I just wish I didn't have to go on this stupid tour. They already know us well enough, what more do they want to see from us? They walk us around like we're dogs so they can applaud us or show their disapproval.

—Think there's a 99.99% chance you won't have to do it again —a voice was heard from outside the styling room, and the two girls turned to see Finnick poking his head in with a lopsided grin—. Enobaria.

—Odair —she replied. Most of the Victors, whatever District they were from, were on friendly terms with each other, so it was not an uncommon situation to see them greeting each other—. It won't be long before the parade starts. You might want to go out and see how your opponents are doing —Enobaria added in a low voice, taking advantage of the fact that Finnick seemed to have disappeared after a few moments.

Contrary to what she always did, Nola obeyed. She stepped out of the small room and was confronted with a spectacle she hadn't experienced as a tribute in three years, but less than a year since she'd experienced it as a spectator. She remembered the outfits of her two tributes the year before, and had to suppress a grimace of disgust when she found that this year's weren't much better. She saw Cashmere and Gloss in the distance, talking together in whispers, and nodded her head, responding to their brief greeting, when they also saw her. Of Brutus there was still no sign, so Nola guessed he would be battling with his stylists because he didn't like the outfit one bit.

She laughed wryly when she saw those from District 10 dressed as a cow: she figured that with those looks it wouldn't take her long to finish them off, if she had to do it herself. Despite her arrogance, she knew better than to look down on her opponents: they were here for a reason too. Nevertheless, Nola was fresh blood. She was nineteen years old, had won the Hunger Games a short time ago, and was keeping fit, whereas the vast majority of those people had indulged in bad living, sedentary lifestyles, alcohol or morphine. Therefore, every time the mere thought of entering the arena crossed her mind, she never managed to think of a time when the cannon would go off for her.

Something in particular caught her eye. In the distance, near a carriage, Finnick was conversing —or seemed to want to— with a girl. "Katniss Everdeen," Nola thought, and she wasn't wrong. She was wearing a tight-fitting black jumpsuit, as if her mission was to go completely unnoticed. However, she belonged to the mining District, so perhaps her attire was a wise choice. There was something that caught Nola's attention, it could be her aura, her awkward stance, showing that she didn't belong there, or maybe it was the reputation she had built up over the past few months. Whatever it was, Nola couldn't help but approach the pair of tributes.