i fUCKED UP-–

You probably didn't notice but Jshzhsjjsjs last chapter Lust said something about them getting ready for like interviews or something, but they're actually getting ready for the tribute parade sisissiuzuxisisis sOrRy-–

"Good luuucckkk~!" Lust called as he walked off down the hallway, Nick begrudgingly trudging along by his side.

Cross gulped, timidly knocking on the door he'd been left in front of. Nothing happened for a moment, and his anxiety seemed to spike for some reason. But then the doors swung open and two people in full medical suits and masks stood in front of him.

"O-Oh-- I must have the w-wrong room, Sorry. I-I'm supposed to be meeting my stylist?" He stuttered, quickly taking a step back to run.

But the staff weren't having that. They grabbed onto both of his arms harshly, tugging him inside and locking the door shut behind them. "You see her in a minute. We clean you first."

"C-Clean me? What do you mean?" Cross let out a squeak as his top was suddenly pulled off of him, leaving his top half exposed. "H-Hey?!"

"These clothes old. We get you new ones." Whoever the second staff member was, they had a heavy accent.

The smol tried to protest, but wasn't listened to and dragged over to one of those tables you'd typically see used for surgery. He was pushed down onto it, his back pressed uncomfortably against the cold metal.

The two staff members made quick work of tugging all his clothes off and tossing them to the side while muttering under their breaths about how filthy he was. One of them pulled the locket off and went to toss it with the rest, but Cross quickly cried out in protest.

"N-No! Not that please!" He reached out, quickly snatching it from their grasp and clutching it to his chest.

"Nothing is allowed to be kept." One grunted, holding out a hand for it impatiently. "Now hand it over."

Cross shook his head feverishly, scooting back on the table and pressing his knees against his chest to hide himself a bit more. "I-If you take it I'll kick and scream and bite and be completely uncooperative. But I-I'll behave fully and let you do whatever you want if I can keep it!"

They both looked at him irritably, staring at him with glares so sharp they could probably slice him in half. After a minute of complete silence one of them groaned loudly, throwing their hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine! You can keep it."

Cross sunk down with relief, clutching it tightly. "Thank you..."

"Give here. I place over there." The accented one grunted, jerking his head back to indicate over to the table a few metres away from the bed that were full of all kinds of equipment that sent shudders down Cross' spine.

Not wanting to anger them anymore, he hesitantly placed the locket into his hand.

The staff rolled his eyes, trudging over to the table and dropping it carelessly on the end before spinning on his heels and walking back over to Cross. "Now lie down."

He really didn't want to, but he obeyed and slowly slid down until he was resting uncomfortably on his back again, feeling rather exposed. "R-Remind me what you're going to do to me?"

"Clean away the filth." Was all they said before he was suddenly hit with two blasts of freezing cold water.

Cross shrieked.

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"Wait here. Emily will be here soon." The staff muttered, pushing the smol rather harshly into a brightly lit room.

He yelped and stumbled while raising a hand to shield his eyes from the harsh lights. The door slammed shut behind him and he shivered, still dripping softly with water. The staff members had shoved a clean black hoodie onto him, but nothing else. Apparently his clothes would be picked for him from now on. Around his neck, his heart locket was hidden under the hoodie fabric and out of sight, just in case this Emily lady wasn't as tolerable as the staff.

The rooms walls were all white, making a shocking change from his room in the facility. Which was strange because he'd only been in there for an hour. And most of that time he'd just been staring down at the pages of a worn book. But still, the lights were far too blinding and only now was he starting to adjust.

In the corner of the room two chairs were sat, wooden chairs painted white to match the stark room.

The small skeleton glanced around warily, gently padding over to the chairs and sitting down on one. He tried to pull his hoodie over his knees, wincing at how it barely covered his scarred pelvis.

God the staff had made an almighty fuss about his scarred body. Every blemish was stared at and prodded with a shake of a head and a tutting of their tongues. They apparently made him 'un pure' which is something they couldn't have for contestants. That confused Cross. Surely he'd just end up with countless amounts of scars from the arena. Not that he'd live long enough to gain many.

He'd managed to convince the staff that his bones didn't need sanding down until they were smooth because they'd all be covered by clothes. God he was glad they actually listened. Otherwise he'd have broke his promise and been kicking and screaming, biting and scratching.

The room stayed silent for a good three minutes. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing coherent in the white room.

But then a click rang out and the door slowly swung open, making Cross jolt in surprise and nearly fall off of his chair. He gripped onto the arms of the seat tightly, shrinking down in his hoodie a bit as his personal stylist stepped in.

It was a woman. She was tall and thin, pale skinned. She wore a long layered light blue skirt that gradiented to darker around the bottom. It stopped just above her ankles, showing her her white trainers. That surprised him a bit; he'd expected her to be wearing heels. She wore a white blouse that tucked into the skirt, not a single stain covering its surface. Over that, she wore a dark open denim jacket, the sleeves stopping just above her wrists to show the large array of golden bracelets she had wrapped loosely around her thin arms. She had pink dyed wavy hair, the curls hanging over one of her blue-purple eyes that just seemed to sparkle with mischief.

Cross stared at the woman, his soul beating rapidly in his chest. She looked nice, right? She didn't look like she'd force him to go out to the parade naked, right? No, she didn't. He was sure of it. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully.

She offered him a smile - which he didn't return - and sat down opposite him on the other chair. "Hello there, Cross."

He stayed silent, looking down at the floor.

"Hey, there's no need to be nervous around me." She said, shifting until she was comfy and resting her hands on her lap. "My name's Emily, but my friends call me Em."

Cross slowly looked up at her, biting his bottom lip softly. "Hi, Emily..." He didn't feel like a friend to her at all.

"Now, you know what I'm supposed to do, right?" She asked, resting a hand on Cross' knee.

The smol flinched slightly, but didn't jerk her away. "You're supposed to make me look pretty..."

"Yes, and how do I do that?"

He frowned. Why the hell was she asking him how to do her own job? "Well, you'll dress me up to represent what my District is known for."

"Which is coal mining." She stared at him, unblinking.

"Um, yes. Coal mining..." He muttered, already preparing himself for the announcement that he'd be thrown into the parade completely naked.

"Now I don't want to do what happened last year."

Immediately he perked up a bit. "You don't?"

Emily shook her head. "No. I'm not here to make you a laughing stock am I? I'm here to make you look pretty."

Cross smiled a bit, nodding. "I guess..."

"Good." She grinned widely, never looking more mischievous. "So let me ask you something... How do you feel about fire?"

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Skjzhzjsjzhzusjshxhsjsjxusjsjhxhbshzggsbsh so uh lmao dunno what happened in this chapter

Emily is basically an OC I made ages ago with a friend that had sum super long and complicated backstory I can't be asked to explain and wihxisjsjziiw I needed someone for the stylist and have never slipped her into any of my books before so I figured wHy NoT?

She won't be in for long, so if you don't like her, don't worry :'D

Hope you're enjoying!

-Jess-