𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 || 𝙰 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝟹|| 𝙲𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚕 𝙳𝚘𝚕𝚕

Bright lights nearly blind me as I sit in a tall chair, my arms and legs crossed to ward off the chill of the sterile white room in a Capitol building called the Remake Centre. Mirrors and cabinets holding all sorts of containers and contraptions fill every wall, with multiple huge closets tucked into corners, and I look around trying to keep myself busy as my new prep team discusses something I can't hear in the corner of the room.

There are three of them- A tall woman with obscenely long streaked pink-and-purple hair, and odd violet eyes, a shorter, pudgy girl with metallic rose gold curls and a clearly artificial- almost orange- tan, and another person too androgynous for me to tell their gender. I'll wade on the safe side and be neutral with them for now. They have short hair streaked in black and white, with dark eyes and piercings, tattoos and jewelry covering every appendage and available space on their dark skin. All three members of the prep team talk fast and loud, and their accents have an annoying tone, like a screechy bird.

They stop talking all at once and come toward me. I smile halfheartedly, trying not to stare at their unnaturally coloured hair and eyes. "Hello, dear! I'm Sarafia, but you can call me Sara," She exclaims, "this is Celadine, and that's Blythe!" She points to her partners in turn. "We'll be your prep team for your time in the Capitol!"

I greet them quietly, and they begin to examine my body with great interest, I'm stiff while they circle me like sharks. I've never liked strangers to be too close to me, physical touch has never been my thing, and now in my flimsy blue dress, I feel exposed.

All the while, they make little comments that just succeed in making even more uncomfortable.

"Bit of a masculine face. We'll have to fix that when we start with the makeup."

"Her skin is uneven on her shoulders from sunburns- what helps with that?"

"That hair is super dead-ended. I'll trim it in a minute. And those nails? We have our work cut out for us."

Masculine face, dead-ended hair? My nails? I scowl and twist the bracelet around my wrist to distract myself. So far the Capitol is terrible, and its citizens are even worse. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as they instruct me to undress.

                                                      ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

My body feels raw and my skin is red and irritated as I cover myself with a thin sheet. I stare down at my legs, polished and hairless, and inspect my nails, once ragged and now perfectly rounded and smooth. It was painful- And extremely tedious, but I do look good. I run my hands through my hair, shorter, but still almost a quarter down my back and silk-smooth.

The three members of the prep team stand back and admire their handiwork.

"You look so much better, Whimsey. One moment, your stylist will be here soon!" They leave, and I'm left alone. I stare up at the ceiling, watching a shadow dance across the pale painted surface. I wind my bracelet- that they thankfully left alone- around my reddened wrist, tracing the crescent moons and five-point stars. It's strangely comforting, and I let myself get lost in the repetitive motion.

I wonder who my stylist will be. There are a bunch in the Capitol who rotate around, and a few that stay with their favourite District. I forget who usually styles four, but the outfits in the last few years have been stunning. Last year they had been pearl-themed- a girl in a short white dress adorned with pearls, her skin iridescent, her makeup opalescent against her blue eyes and blond hair, and a boy in a white suit with the shiny sea gems stitched expertly to his lapel.  They caught a ton of eyes and got sponsors easily. I wonder what my theme will be.