oh, how she wishes
she could just be
who she once was
again...
PRE HUNGER GAMES - MOCKINGJAY
FEMALE OC X MALE OC
Cover made by the amazing @fireandbloods
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interviews, two years prior
"Is this all really necessary?"
The stylist looks over at Arella with a face full of shock, almost as if it's unbelievable a tribute wouldn't accept her help. The girl won't lie and say she doesn't like the fact she gets to wear fancier clothes, it's the excessive nature of it that she isn't a fan of. These Capitol stylists generally love to try and outdo one another, slap as many diamonds onto an outfit that they can and brag about it to their competition.
The woman stands behind Arella and places her hands on her shoulders, guiding her over to the mirror so that the teenager can look at herself. The brunette almost cannot believe what she's seeing, her hair messily curled and a beautifully crafted headband lying upon her head. The dress is gorgeous too, although she could see that before she'd put it on, a flowing white gown with jewels lining the neckline. In any other situation, Arella would feel like a princess, but the events of tomorrow put a little bit of a damper on that.
Instead, she feels like some sort of prized pony, something these people will be happy to dispose of once it's no longer any use.
"You must be going now, dear!" Her stylist exclaims after a few moments, clapping her hands together excitedly. "They're going to love you,"
Sure.
The woman guides her down to the appropriate section of the building, many of the other tributes already down there and ready to go. A few even look excited by the outfits they have on, smiles lighting up their faces as they play with the expensive material of their clothing. The career kids are a little different, sneering at people as they walk by, Arella doesn't miss Remi's seething glare on the side of her face either.
The small girl from District Three watches Arella in wonder, eyes wide and sparkling with admiration as she takes in the beautifully sewn dress. Arella gives her the smallest of smiles, unable to erase the idea that this little girl likely won't be alive this time tomorrow evening. It's sick, absolutely horrific, that it's something she even has to ponder. This girl should be at home with her family, learning new things and hanging out with friends, not fighting to the death on national television.
"Well well, look who actually knows how to pull off a nice look," the slurred words of her 'mentor' draws in her attention.
It's a shame that her attacking him will likely end up with her getting in trouble, it's probably not worth it in the end really. Arella pulls a face at him, one that clearly shows her disdain.
"Look who finally remembered he's responsible for two human lives. Did they run out of whisky?" Arella hisses angrily at the man who stands before her.
If there's one thing she wishes she had in common with the career tributes, it's a mentor who actually cares whether or not she dies in the Arena. Sure, most of those mentors only care about it because of it being seen as an 'honour' to win, but at least they have some help. Arella and Malcolm will be stumbling around that arena with little to no guidance, nobody in their corner. They're on their own.
