Rising Tide

SEVEN

"Come on, Arista, you'll be late!"

"But what if they don't like my dress? Or my hair? What if they don't like me?"

"Girl are you really questioning my work?" I huff at his words but nod in reluctance, allowing him to grasp my arm and pull me into the mirrored elevator. Our reflection dances from surface to surface, displaying with unaltered truth the reality of what lay before them. That is, one stylist and and one tribute. Well, one tribute adorned in what will probably be the fanciest clothes to ever grace her skin.

He is probably right, Leo. He's a genius I have come to realize in the last couple hours spent laying on his table and lounging in his swivel chair. Before today I had never seen the point in fancy clothes nor the skill it takes to create art from said clothes. Leo is surely talented if he can make something, make anything, out of me. The girl whom wears simple dresses and no shoes. I feel like a misfit, standing here in such riches.

Because riches seems to be the only word that can describe what graces my form. A long, sapphire dress that appears to made out of water itself. There are no straps holding it around my shoulders and the back is cut deep down my spine, making it a miracle in itself to be staying up so well. When I move, the water surges up my legs and when I stop it rushes back to the ground, the waves of material cresting before they touch the ground where they sweep to nothing. The dress is silky to the touch, reminding me of the ocean back in Four.

Ropes of brilliant, cream pearls hang from my neck. They are strung with seashells, the small ones that can fit on the tips of your finger. Tiny diamonds are mingled between, completing a necklace fit for a goddess of the sea. I wear no shoes, just golden anklets of interwoven pearls. On top of my head sits a crown of more seashells, the pointed ones that Spike likes to collect at the beach. They glisten when I walk, catching the light in this pre-Armageddon.

I wonder if Spike and Papa will be watching tonight. I am not sure if it would be a good thing or not if they are. One part of me wants Papa and Spike to see me one last time. Well, one last time as the girl they have always known and maybe the girl I could have been if everyone was granted the same luxuries. However, on the other hand, do I really want them watching me cozy up to the capital for my own personal gain? I mean sure, they want me to win the games, but I believe they would feel betrayed to see their own daughter and sister so up close and personal with their enemy.

The elevator opens twice before reaching the level where our chariots await. The first time the doors open and close I look up only to be greeted with a disinterested pair of green eyes from a stoic, broad-shouldered boy. He wears pants that look very much like the few trees that grow in Four and no shirt. Dirt is rubbed onto his face in an attempt to make him look rugged but he only looks unhappy. That is for a good reason, I feel almost bad for him. His stylist obviously does not care about him. I look away from his eyes quickly, there is too much going on to be worried about this boy.

The second time the elevator opens I do not look up I only shuffle closer to Leo and wait for them to close and bring us to our destination. My thoughts fog once more with insecurities. Leo said The Capitol will adore me, but does that include one Finnick Odair? He sees hundreds of beautiful women in hundreds of beautiful places and I'm just me, here, in this nightmare turned reality. I so poorly compare to those women that in reality, which is what I am failing to live in, he should not even glance in my direction.

Despite this, I cannot help but feel beautiful.

A ding sounds and we file out of the elevator, Leo's hand ushering me at a quicker pace than I am used to towards a pair of dazzling horses. They are brushed so clean their coats shine under the fluoresce. Spike would love them too. He would love everything.