DAPHNE
°•. ✿ .•°
Immediately, I am forced to leave Mags and go downstairs to be prepped for my chariot race, which I am not looking forward to. Neptune and I got the same stylist that Finnick had last year. Like Finnick, we will probably be naked, or close to it. It's ridiculous to show people my breasts if they can't legally touch them, but I don't have much of a say in the matter.
I do not like being waxed. It hurts. It removes the natural side I enjoy to life. I do not like being hoisted into a tub of water so boiling hot, I scream in agony. They seemed to realize that I, unlike them, had not burned off my nerve endings, and they quickly removed me and got a bunch of ice. My skin was still pink and unnaturally tight, so they had to slather me up in some sort of cream that smelled like fish oil.
I do not like how they try to remove my hair wraps. I yell at them so much, they just leave the damn things in and wash and brush the rest of my hair like normal, though they make remarks about my wraps being tacky. They trim my hair, claiming the ends had been dead for a long time, but I don't think it matters since I'll be dead in a short time.
They tweeze my eyebrows, which hurts more than the waxing does, and by the end of it, I'm crying. They pluck any stray hairs from the rest of my body, assess whether or not I will need an implant to even out my breasts, and then run off. They don't come back with any news, so I guess they decided against the implant.
A woman comes back, with skin the color of fresh bread, rainbow tattoos that are clearly fake, purple lipstick, poofy golden hair, and wearing leather so tight, I think I can see her labia. She tells me her name, but I don't commit it to memory because once she begins assessing my body, I dislike her. "Too tall for this!" and "These aren't perky enough!" and "Your butt is shaped so funny!" and, my favorite, "Lord, these hair wraps are all but vile! Who let you put those in?"
"My mother, who I said my final goodbyes to just yesterday."
She does not speak very much after that.
For the chariot race, I'm damn near naked. She used some sort of transparent strap to lift my breasts and make them perky, which bothers me, so I gnaw them off when she isn't looking to let gravity enact it's nature. My arms are exposed, as are my legs, but I wear a beige, netted crop-top and a similar matching mini-skirt. The holes show everything, but when Mags insisted I be covered, I got a very thin loincloth hiding my crotch, and very, very small patches to cover my nipples. Easily, it is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever experienced, largely due to the Capitol cheering us on and Neptune joining in (he decided against the loincloth, so everyone can see everything). I'm able to offer a single smile when I see a woman in the crowd with a hair wrap like mine, and I blow her a kiss. She goes absolutely crazy, and it almost makes me wonder;
How many people like me?
°•. ✿ .•°
"You'll score low." Neptune says as we eat breakfast. We start training today. In about two weeks, I get evaluated. That same night, I am interviewed. The day after that, I am killed. "You haven't got anything useful to show. You can't manipulate the Gamemakers into giving you a good score."
"Says who?" I remark as I fling a donut right as his nose. He growls, and I grin at the reaction. "Maybe I've been holding out. Maybe I can bench 250 or throw a spear fifty yards."
YOU ARE READING
Lost at Sea || Finnick Odair x OC (DISCONTINUED)
Fanfiction"We're just too cynical Cause we're so easy to replace Regifted thrifted youth But it was all a waste. Cause we're just laughing cause we feel like crying Pretend we don't care but we're all lying They say we're all self obsessed Cause we're in love...
