Fair Fight

Chapter 11

Luminescent white lights shine in my face as three members of my prep team, whose job is it to make me look attractive, poke, prod and examine me. I feel like an experiment and they are scientists waiting to test out a new theory, but they might as well be for they have scrubbed me down with a gritty foam numerous times, but still they aren't satisfied. I've been in the remake centre for at least 4 hours now, lying on the same metal surface and I think I lost all feeling in my limbs about an hour ago.

A woman with purple corkscrew curls and a bright green lipstick, named Glerode shrills in a lisping voice,"Time for the best parrtttt!" I wonder why most Capitol accents seem to linger on the last word, like a viper's hiss and also what they mean my the best part? With these odd trio of preps, it could be absolutely anything!

The short, dumpy male prep, Aronald, with what I presume to be fake eyelashes, which in my opinion look like spiders, glued to his eyes, helps me off the table I was lying on and leads me into an adjacent side room. The walls are covered in bottles and jars of gels, gooes and all the other gunk they intend to coat my face with. Finnick never warned me about all this. Glerode pushes me into a swiveling chair in front of a mirror and I gaze at my reflection. This morning, my skin was red and splotchy, covered with freckles and dark circles under my eyes. Staring back at me, is a different person and they haven't even finished with me yet. My complexion has no evidence of fatigue or the result of spending all my time at the beach. I look flawless, but I can't say I like it very much. I look fake, sponsers and viewers alike won't recognize me in the arena.

I'm woken from my daydream my the sharp yank of a hairbrush, trying to untangle my golden locks. I wince. "So sorrryyy, it's just so knotted!" Opalia, the prep with the swirling pink tattoes etched across her skin, apologizes. I grit my teeth as the tangles are diminished. Another hour or so passes by, and then the preps finally bring me to meet my stylist. If it is the same stylist the District 4 tributes always get, I'm in for a real treat. Who knows what garish new fashion trends are in for this season in the Capitol? From what I've seen so far since my arrival, I don't know what could be worse.

A tall, elegant woman with dazzling red hair, which seems to be her natural colour and gleaming green eyes steps into the room, wearing a sapphire blue jumpsuit and the highest heels I have ever seen. I certainly hope a pair that high will be worn by me at the parade. I would most likely fall off the chariot, and wouldn't that be a wondrous sight for all of Panem to see. Simply divine, I'd say.

"Helloo," the woman says, a slight Capitol lilt in her soft voice,"I see we have a fine tribute this year. Young, but obviously with marvellous fighting skills and a darling face for everyone to see. My name is Retan and I am your stylist." I'm a little taken aback. Who is this woman to say what standard I'm up to. People like her are gambling on my life! How would this stylist know what skills I have, unless you count myself wrestling with fish on Market Days back home, which I highly doubt. All I hope is that my Retan knows what she is doing. I'll need more than a costume for an audience of people to like me.

I slip into a gown made of slippery silk that flows through my fingers like streams of water. Hues of turquoise, midnight blue, sea green and emerald all blend together to make a colour that set off my startling eyes. I stare at myself in the gilted full length mirror hanging on the wall and I am totally surprised. I thought my costume was going to entail me wearing fisherman's overalls. I am very impressed with Retan, she has definitely outdone herself on this one. The gown hugs close to my skin on my torso and flows to ankles from waist down. Attached to my shoulders is a cape that looks like frothy waves, lapping against the shore. Everyone in the crowd will know that I come from District 4 with this costume.

"It looks wonderful on you," Retan breathes,"I think it is my best creation yet". I am happy, sort of, for Retan. She doesn't seem to have much reputation here in the Capitol. She is new to being a stylist and hopefully this costume will show that she can truly make it designing clothes. Although don't get me wrong, I should be worrying about myself at this stage. I will have to try and stay on a chariot with Reid beside me, I wouldn't doubt that he would try to push me off the chariot.

Retan pins a loose strand of my curls on top of my head and fastens a jewelled barette in place. She also sticks some gems around one of my eyes and makes swirling designs in gold down my cheeks. Hopefully this outfit will not give the audience a chance but to remember me. This is the night were all first impressions will be made and I have to go out with a bang.