The Hunger Games; Peeta

~Beauty Base Zero~

"And the final touches!" Says a woman I didn't know the name of piped in her ridiculous Capitol accent, whilst proceeding to inject a needle into my neck.

"Ow!" I exclaimed.

"Oh sorry sweetheart," she says "We just need to make sure you can't grow any facial hair in the games, you know, beauty base zero!"

I did not know beauty base zero.

Ever since I had been collected by these very...colourful...stylists I had been poked, prodded, trimmed, shaved, and generally 'fixed' you could say.

Eventually the little troupe of stylists left, and I was left, stark naked, in the little room somewhere in the depths of the capitol. I tried over to a large mirror in the corner and look at myself. I look somewhat like a porcelain doll, all plucked and red raw from where I was scrubbed repetitively. My hair had been combed and neatened, and I guess i looked like myself, but in a freakishly unnatural way.

The door opens and a young women who must be... I think Portia the people said. It suddenly strikes me how strangely, well, normal she looks. No surgery, no altercations, just an actual person.  The only thing that could separate her from a district-born person is her golden-blonde hair that contrasts with her dark skin, and a little bit of purple sparkly stuff that shimmers across her eyelids. She wears a floaty black dress and tights, with a little bit of purple lace around the bottom.

She has striking green eyes, full lips that are coloured in a natural shade of pink. She was a very beautiful woman, though I resisted the urge to say so in case it came off the wrong way.

"Hello Peeta. My name is Portia, and I am your stylist."

"Hi" I say in return.

"Just give me a sec and then you can cover right back up again, k?"

"Ok." Only then does it hit me how exposed I am. I don't really mind though, I mean we are all people so there isn't anything unnatural about it.

She circles around my body, her face scrunched like she's taking notes in her mind.

"Are you new?" I ask on a whim. "I'm not sure I've seen you before."

"Yes, it's me and my partner Cinna's first year as stylists for the games."

"Sorry you got district 12." I feel bad, so far she seems lovely, it's unfair to stick her with the most unfortunate district.

"No, we asked for district twelve." She says simply. "You can go ahead and cover up now, and we'll talk about what's going to happen next" And then she swiftly exits after handing me a plain white robe.

I pull on the robe and follow her into a small (for the capitol) living room. Two Blue couches sit at either end of the living room, facing each other. Three walls are painted a calming lavendery-blue and the other is pure glass, reflecting onto an orchard filled with genetically modified trees that bear purple blossoms.

Portia beckons me to sit and plops herself down next to Me. She looks lost for a moment but with a little "Oh!" She presses a button on the side of the couch. Food rises from the table in front  of us (mahogany probably), another delicious capitol feast.

The rolls that sit in a pile on the centre of the table are a slightly offish colour, looking pretty unnatural, though doesn't everything and everyone in the Capitol?

It seems wild that on the other side of Panem there are people that can make food appear with the press of a button, when in twelve people die from starvation every single day. Yet there is so much that goes to waste here, but none can be spared for the kids in the district?

Portia must've seen something in my face, because she mutters a quick "We must seem evil to you."

"No, not at all, at least not you. it's just...confusing I guess that there is so much here yet there are starving kids back in twelve."

"I'm so sorry" Her face is saddened, like she actually cares. That is not something you see frequently in The Hunger Games.

"Anyway, onto business" she says. "Obviously, it's custom to represent the work of your district."

Because 12's work type is coal mining, there are not many great costumes that have come from us. In the past years all of the costumes have either been I'll fitting coal miners costumes, or stark naked covered in a light black dust. Seven year old me did not recover from that. Ever.

As you can probably tell, it does not favour the crowd.

"Will I be in a coal miners outfit then?" I say, hoping I won't have to be stark naked in-front of the entire country.

"No not exactly, but don't worry, it won't be...indecent." I breathed a sigh of relief mentally "Me and Cinna believe that the coal miner stuff is extremely overdone. And we want to make our tributes un-for-get-table."

"So this year instead of focusing on the mining, we are going to focus on the coal."

"That sounds cool!" I say enthusiastically

"Sure is. And you know what we do with coal?"

"Uhh..."

"We burn it."