CHARADE | Glimmer

Chapter Seven

Trigger warnings: Nakedness, Manipulation, Low self-esteem

I stand naked as a Capitol prep team circle me. The only thing from home that I have is my golden hairpin. My ring was snatched from me the moment I exited the train and entered the Capitol, as was Marvel's tribute token. I desperately hope that they don't inspect it too hard and find the Mercury. It's been the one thought in my head as these Capitol people have waxed me, ripped out my body hairs and scrubbed me so hard that I feel like my skin is on fire.

"It'll do," One of them nods finally. His name is Marco and has a green wig somehow styled into the shape of an exclamation mark above his head.

"Let's get Arion!" Another one smiles. Bellona, a woman whose skin and hair seems to have been dyed purple.

The last one- Quintus, a man who seems relatively more normal with long pink hair- leads the way, and soon they're out of the room, leaving me surrounded with mirrored reflections of myself.

I snatch up the blue robe they've left lying on a stand and swiftly pulling it on, wrapping my arms around myself. It's the first time in hours that I've been allowed to be alone. From the moment Marvel and I got off the train, the photographers were there, as were hollering Capitol citizens. I plastered on my mask and smiled and blew kisses, and smiled still as they took away my ring, and deposited me vulnerable into the hands of the Capitol prep team. But I can't relax, not when I'm surrounded by thousands of me.

The door opens and a figure enters the room. I recognise them instantly. It's Arion, one of the best stylists in the Capitol- I see them constantly when fashion shows are broadcasted, and they've been shown among the stylists every Hunger Games. They're wearing their iconic cloak – a simple fabric layered with hundreds of different coloured ribbons. Their tunic and trousers are white with intricate gold designs, while they have simple touches of gold on their brown skin and around their pale eyes. Their dark hair is half braided, half loose and falls just past their shoulders.

"Hi Glimmer," They smile, revealing dimples, "I'm Arion, your stylist. It's nice to meet you."

"I know," I blurt, and I feel heat rise into my cheeks, "I mean, I know who you are. I've seen you a lot on the Capitol broadcasts. It's nice to meet you too."

Again, the same smile, "Come with me."

I follow them, glad to leave the mirrored room behind me. We head into a smaller, simpler room that has some curtains shielding a corner of the room, and a couple of round chairs and a table in the centre. It's laden with what seems to be a tea set and some pastries.

They head over to the chairs and pull one out for me to sit down. Now that I'm nearer, I can see words on their ribbons but they move away to the other chair before I can get a closer look.

"Hungry?" They ask, gesturing to the pastries.

"Not really."

"No, I thought not," They murmur, "I'll get them to some Avoxes later."

"Avoxes?" I ask.

"People with their tongues ripped out who are forced into servitude." They say simply, "They don't get nearly enough to eat." My eyes widen and I glance around the room for cameras or anything that could be listening devices. But Arion shows no reaction. They hold up the black teapot, "Tea?"

I shake my head, and they pour themself a mug. The smell of fruits wafts into the air.

"Cashmere told me your angle will be a malicious seductress," They say softly, "I gather that wasn't your choice."