Prim in the games

Chapter four; the Tribute Parade

I stand as still as I can as my body is waxed, plucked, and stripped of any hair that it may possible have. The only part of my warm, fluffy coating that I am allowed to keep is the long, golden locks growing out of my scalp. They scrub me down in some sort of scented oil and then leave me out to dry. By the end of it, I feel like nothing more than a beaten down and pummelled piece of meat. Then my stylist walks in. I am expecting all of the extravagance that my prep team, three people named, Flavius, Octavia and Venia, but he is relatively normal for someone who comes from the Capitol. His skin in a beautiful dark colour, his hair, unstyled and uncoloured falls in a brown curtain over his head. The only addition to his body is a thin line of golden eyeliner that covers a thin space on his lid. He walks in a circle around me, examining my raw body as the butchers examines Katniss larger kills at home. When he has completed his round he faces me and lets out deep breath. 

"How could they send you?" He asks, his voice full of despair. "You're a child." 

I fold my arms and try to look as fierce as I can.

"Well, back in twelve, they didn't seem to have any issues with that fact."

He looks taken aback, but then smiles.

"Well well. You're going to blow sponsors away. Cute, young and feisty. A rare combination." 

I unfold my arms and relax a little. Feisty. That was a word that no one had ever called be back home. He looked at me once more before walking to a tall cupboard and opening one of the large doors. His face was now blocked from view, but his voice floats out from behind the door. 

"My name is Cinna by the way."

"Hi." I say tentatively. "Prim."

He walks back toward me and in his hands in the most beautiful piece of clothing I have ever seen. It has a tight black bodice with thin shoulder straps. Red, orange and yellow ribbons stick out from the back. The skirt is made from the same black material and interspersed with the coloured ribbons at random intervals. 

"Oh, Cinna." I whisper as he passes the dress to me. "It's beautiful." 

"I had to make some adjustments to it." He says, a smile on his face. "I made it to fit someone... slightly larger than yourself."

I turn and frown slightly, but realise quickly that he didn't mean any offence by it and look back to the dress.

"But before you put it on, I need to do your makeup." He says, taking the dress out of my hands and placing it on a counter. 

The next hour is spent filling my face with makeups I have never even heard of. Blushes and foundations and mascara and lipstick. When I look in the full length mirror that stands against the wall, I realise that I am no longer a twelve year old girl. I am a woman, a creature of flames and shadows.

"Like it?" Cinna asks, and I look at him, my face a mask of sheer joy despite the heavy coat of makeup. He picks up the dress and raises his eyebrows and I give him a small nod. 

I undress and zip myself into the dress. I look into the mirror again, but I can no longer see myself. The only part of me which remains are my twin braids which fall down my back. Cinna seems to notice that I have realised this and he answers my unasked question.

"Everyone saw your hair on the replay of the reapings and they loved it so much. I want it to be the way that they recognise you on the parade and in the games."

So my hair has become some sort of symbol for my personality, I think. My mother always says that she loves the way my hair looks, so maybe she will be happy. Then I think that I am going into the hunger games, and that no amount of small joys will truly make her happy.

Suddenly it is time to go, and so together Cinna and I walk out and into the place where the chariots are kept. Peeta stands beside the one that we will be riding in, wearing a black suit with the same coloured ribbons as the one I have. Then there is a voice booming over the speakers set in the corners of the room, and we mount the chariot. Before the doors open however, Cinna seems to have one last surprise in store for us. He walks forward, flaming torch in hand, and lights the coloured ribbons on mine and Peeta's clothing. 

I let out a gasp of surprise, but the panic quickly ebbs as I realise that I am not burning. Instead, my small body is engulfed in a shower of flickering reds and yellows. I must look like a god. Peeta looks stunning in his attire. The flames bring out the darkness of his gaze, the sharpness of his jawline. I shake my head, clearing away these thoughts. I don't now this boy, and besides, he is four years older than me. All at once, the chariots roll forward and I begin to slip from where I am standing. Peeta grabs my hand and holds it tightly as we roll through the square. We watch the other tributes make their appearance. Each district's tributes are supposed to represent that district. The tributes from one wear silken garments and necklaces of gold and silver. Luxury items, I think. Two wear heavy, ugly peacekeeper uniforms. They are unrecognisable to anyone through the thick helmets. It continues like this until it is time for district twelve to make their appearance. We roll out and onto the square. I hear a general gasp of surprise and some screams as the crowd gets a look at us, but their fear quickly turns to excitement and they are suddenly cheering for us, more loudly too than they have for any other district thus far. Some are even throwing us roses and bouquets of flowers. Cinna has truly done an incredible job. Even though I may be the youngest tribute (or one of them anyway), I will be truly unforgettable. The sky is dark now, making out flickering flames even more prominent and beautiful. I catch a glimpse of us on one of the large screens which flank the square, and even I am taken aback by what I see. I am no longer a girl. I am barely even a human. I am a gorgeous and deadly animal. I am a creature of the flames, of the heat, of the night. The angles on my face have been accentuated and my lips seem to glow in the artificial fire. My eyes, once blue, have become a shade of glimmering black, making me seem not only deadly, but murderous. I look untrustworthy, and I love it.

Finally the carriages come to a stop and we disembark. I immediately run up to Cinna and throw my arms around him. Luckily, the flames only seem to burn the coloured strips of material on our clothes, or his suit would have been engulfed in the same heatless fire which burns around me. 

"That was amazing." I cry, and he laughs. "Thank you!"

And I mean it too. He has just given me the edge that my age has robbed me off. He has given me the edge of being a predator. I'm sure that the other tributes all saw me as weak, unimportant. Now they will see me as the threat I know I am. I walk back to Peeta as Cinna starts to put out the flames. 

"Thank you for catching me." I say and he smiles.

"Anytime Prim." 

"You know, you looked really great out there, covered in flames. You looked scary." I say, and I am almost regretting the words when he lets out a hearty laugh which shakes his entire frame.

"You didn't look too bad yourself. You should wear this more often. Flames suit you." Without another word he turned and walked away, ready for his stylists to put out the flames which cover his body.