Thank You, Girl on Fire {Cato's Story}

Part 2---Chapter 5---Stylist

Part 2---Chapter 5---Stylist

    I woke up, artificial sunlight streamed through my windows. Someone had laid out my clothes for me. I guess it was my stylist, who I was meeting with this morning when we get off the train. I threw it on without even bothering to look at what it was. I slammed the door behind me as I was leaving. I made my way to the breakfast cart, where I found Elektra, Brutus, and Clove. They all looked up when I come in. I was late, but I couldn’t care less.

    “What’s up?” I said, eagerly grabbing at a bun.

    “Cato, there’s a strict schedule we need to follow,” Elektra said.

    “Screw the schedule,” I said, and Brutus laughed.

    “Totally have to agree with you on that,” he chuckles.

    “When do we get to the Capitol?” Clove asked, any trace of sadness or fear gone.

    “We’re going to be there in twenty minutes. Then your stylists will pick you up, and we’ll all meet back at our rooms at dinner for talk about training,” Elektra explained. Clove and I nodded at the same time, and then couldn’t look at the other.

    “How are you doing to train us, Brutus?” Clove asked.

    “Well, do you want to be trained together or separately?” he asked.

    “Separately,” I said at the same time Clove answered, “Together.” Again, we couldn’t meet the others’ eyes.

    “Ohh, I see how this is going to play out,” Brutus’s eyes smiled in a sick way. “Well, well, well.” Clove sat there, eating her muffin silently. That ended the discussion on the train.

    We pulled up to the Capitol, and I didn’t even have time to say goodbye to Clove before I was whisked away by a short, stout woman with green hair, and a gold painted face. She lead me into a building, and then strapped me down to a table. She immediately hooked me up to a drip for I don’t know what, but whatever it was, it was going to help me during the games. She started combing my hair, while another woman, that one taller and leaner, but with the same crazy makeup, started washing me from head to toe. They then put me in make-up, made me look completely healthy and fresh.

    “Time for Zara,” they smiled, and put me in a gown. They lead me to another empty room, when there was a single pedestal. They closed the door behind me, and I was all alone. I stood there for a bit, until someone entered. The man was tall, and he was thin, no muscle to be seen. He was dressed in a silver suit. Not grey, not the dull grey associated with the gloomy sky on a rainy day, but a metallic silver, like the actual element of Ag. On the edges were lines of lace, lace in the brightest gold I was forced to avert my gaze. When I looked back, however, I noticed a couple normal things--- the fact he wasn’t wearing much makeup other than the stand-out black lipstick, and the regular leather shoes, along with the checkered (silver and gold, nonetheless) tie.

    When he caught me looking, he mumbled what was probably some excuse on why he wasn’t wearing hot pink heels or something.

    “Hello, I’m Zara, your stylist for this game,” he smiled, surveying my body. I couldn’t help but notice the strange way his words were strung together, not like they were in sentences, but like they were sewn. Like they didn’t truly belong together. Basically, I thought he had an accent.

    “Cato,” I replied.

    “Cato, Cato, Cato. District Two! What a fine build. You’re strong, I see,” he exclaimed. His eyebrows arched upwards in a way that made the shape of his brows stand out. They were fixed-- as almost every feature in a man from the Capitol’s was, but they were shaped like he was sad. Like he’d felt pain. Like he was hurt by the world. And there was a small, nearly unnoticeable, rhinestone on the end of each. They were clear tears.

    I nodded curtly, giving him not just a serious, determined stare, but a curious, confused tilt of the head.

    He examined me again, and stroked his goatee, dyed silver on the ends. At that point I couldn’t help but notice the wings painted expertise on his silver nails.

    Zara was literally a walking necklace. Or bracelet. Or something silver and gold.

    “So, Cato, you know about the parade, I presume?”

    I shrugged my shoulders. I vaguely remembered something of the sort, something in the beginning of the games, but it was about clothes and reputation, so I hadn’t paid much attention when Brutus played the tapes.

    “Well, it’s your first impression, other than the reaping, of the public. You represent your District---”

    That was around the place I zoned out.

    His words echoed through my mind, however, when the metallic man continued to blab, and started handing me strange hats and shoes, shirts, and togas.

    Impression-

    Represent District-

    I continued to let his beginning words repeat themselves to me, as I pulled on several designs, each one crazier than the last.

    Finally I snapped out of my thinking trance when he handed me what looked like the last thing he had. I pulled it on, and felt content.

    First of all, it was comfortable. It fit well with my build, draping over my shoulders. Not too tight, not too loose. Second, it was practical. A simple, plain white toga with gold ropes. Third, I guess it represented my District. I remembered hearing Zara say something about, “Roman weaponry and art of war,” and something like, “Two masonry and weaponry.”

    Then he handed me some helmet. It was gold, my outfit at that point matching what the man was wearing, perfectly. There were wings on it.

    “You’re familiar with Roman mythology, I presume?”

    He sure liked the word “presume.”

    “Uh, doesn’t it have something to do with astronomy?”

    He chuckled, patting me on the back, keeping his hand there and leaning to my ear.

    “You guys will be Mercury!” he cried. “It’s genius!”

    Quite modest, for his own designs, don’t you think?

    I just shrugged like I understood and was about to leave the room.

    I heard him suck in a breath and I knew I did something wrong. When I turned around, his eyes were wide, and I felt like I wanted to just turn around and leave, seeing his golden eyeliner and black lips again. He seemed quite bothered by something, when he exclaimed, “No! Cato! You cannot leave! You forgot your shoes!”

    I stared at the gold things in his hands with wings and regarded them cooly. I didn’t truly care what I wore. And why in the history of Panem would wearing gold and silver with wings, looking like some Roman god, give a bunch of rich lads and ladies in strange clothes the right impression.

    I suppose people who wear weird clothes admire people who wear weirder clothes.

    Strange people, these Capitol people are.

    They smile and root for kids who are fighting to their death? They like kids who dress fancy?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A/N- Sorry, short chapter. I tried to write as much and as quick as possible, but I guess that isn't really one of my talents, is it? Haha...

Well anyway, I hope you liked the chapter... Zara=typical Capitol person? Hope I kinda made it seem Capitol realistic.

Anyway, next chapter's the parade! :D Cato and Clove are going to be matching :))))

Thanks for reading, anyone who does and provides feedback makes me smile :)