❝ never trust a survivor
until you find out
what they did
to stay alive ❞
―Kurt Vonnegut, Bluebeard
[ the maze runner × the hunger games ]
No one was ever happy in District 12. They were the poorest among the distric...
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ROSALIND HAD BEEN in the Remake Center for more than three hours and she still hadn't met her stylist. Apparently he only wanted to see her until after her prep team was completely done with her.
Andien, a tall man with fluffy pink hair like cotton candy and freakishly light purple skin, kept smiling at her and telling her how she was handling the prepping so well. Cuvovits and Fenora were engaged in a lively conversation with each other as they waxed Rosalind's legs, ripping the strip of fabric along with all the hair underneath.
She wanted to object, to just run away from her crazy prep team and just be done with the stupid Hunger Games, but Haymitch had warned her to seal her lips and objections right before sending her off to her prep team, so that was what she did.
"Oh goodness me, you look gorgeous!" Cuvovits squealed as she made her stand up for observation.
"I'm stark naked," Rosalind said flatly.
It was true. In order for her prep team to fully prepare her to meet her stylist, she had to remove all articles of clothing, which rendered her completely vulnerable. It was mortifying at first, but she got used to it after a long while.
"Now that we've rid you of all those icky-yucky dirt and filth, we can call in Felvick now!" Fenora grinned at her, the piercings on her nose and ears glinting under the harsh light.
They dart out of the room, leaving Rosalind alone, naked. The door opened and in strutted a young man with sharp feminine features, leaving her to wonder whether it was natural or surgically altered to look that way. Her stylist, Felvick, had long, slick hair bleached to the point it almost looked white, and his dark indigo eyes stood out among his pale skin. As he turned around to look at her, she noticed a small, star tattoo right under his left jawline.
"My, my," Felvick sniffed, his piercing eyes flitting up and down as they took in the sight of her. "I've seen better."
Rosalind gave a small roll of her eyes as he begun pacing around her in circles, observing every inch and curve of her body.
"A little too skinny for my taste," Felvick commented, his Capitol accent catching on the letter s. "Chest is a little flat. Hair a bit too short. Lacking in muscles."
"Aren't you supposed to help make me beautiful, not bring down my self-esteem?"
To her surprise, he laughed, and had to take a moment to catch his breath.
"Darling, you have such spunk in you!" He gushed, eyes twinkling. "All the other tributes I have had to endure through have been sooo boring!"
He finally stopped circling her and came to a stop in front of her, eyeing her up and down again.
"Not bad, actually," he said, with a slight nod. "We'll make do. Now, come, darling! We need to discuss your outfit."
