Inevitable | PJO

Piper

POV: Piper McLean

No-one had even looked at her.

When the district 5 chariot had rolled out into the streets, most of the attention had still been on district 1's jewelled robes. They were kind of nice, but with District 2's huge war helmets taking all and any remaining attention, Piper had simply been a small figure in a stupid storm-cloud costume.

So there went any sponsor chances.

She sighed almost longingly and collapsed onto the massive mound of mattress, blankets, sheets and pillows in the middle of her massive room. It wasn't even that nice. The walls were a strange gold and purple mix with ugly patterns appearing in odd places. All the furniture was a fake golden colour and inlaid with equally fake gems.

Real doesn't appear to be wasted on mere tributes

All the voice activated services just mocked her. She'd never seen them before, and never would have. She didn't know how to use them.
And wouldn't, she promised, surprising herself. There's no point! I'll be dead before too long.

Piper decided to distract herself before her thought turned as morbid as they had been previously.

She flicked through the expansive purple-metal wardrobe, trying to find something suitably shocking to wear to training the next day. After all, if everyone else was grouching around in silly baggy trousers and their equally baggy training shirts, she could at least stick out.

She needed confidence! She needed style! She needed...

Something that wasn't in the wardrobe.
She had found a row of matching training shirts in navy blue, with 'McLean, 5' printed on the back in white, several pairs of trousers that could have housed an elephant or two inside, and three pairs of long shorts.

Ah well. Nothing scissors can't fix.

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The next morning, Piper woke bright and early. She hummed as she floated around, picking up her newly adjusted training outfit, smoothing out the creases, having a shower whilst it steamed, then tweaking, chopping and fixing until she was pleased. Fixing her hair into it's choppy plaits in the style of her district, she ordered breakfast through the speakers. No-one was seeing anything until her big reveal.

But, let's just get this straight. I do not like fashion. Nor will I ever. This is just for sponsor chances.

Because if there was one thing Piper wanted to avoid in life, it was ending up like her mother, sighing over every peek of Capitol life she could get.

It would be worth dying in the Games to get to see the Capitol first, was what she always used to say. But funnily enough, Piper thought she'd rather stay at home.
____

Fashionably late, Piper strutted into the training chamber in a manner representative of her mother. She was wearing the shorts, cut so small they were barely visible. Her knotted-into-a-crop-top 'McLean, 5' shirt showed off a tiny flat stomach, a sign of starvation in the districts, but of fashion in the Capitol.

All the cameras turned towards Piper, as the training leader cut her speech to marvel at Pipers guts at walking into the room like that.

Jason's mouth hung open like he'd lost all muscle control in his jaw. The same had happened to most of the male tributes too, along with some of the people on the stations.

And that. Is an entrance.