— 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

We arrived late in the afternoon. But we weren't given much time to relax though since we were immediately ushered to the Remake Center where our prep team was waiting. Rena winked and then sauntered off with her half of the prep team while I was led into a separate room.

I'm sure my prep team introduced themselves, but I hardly paid them any notice, allowing them to do their job while focusing my attention to my thoughts. They were much more important than the trivialities of my appearance since a touch of glitter and gold wasn't going to win the hunger games. Tomorrow is when things really started to count.

Once I stepped foot in that training room, I'd decide who was worth using and who would be the first to go. I knew Rena was already eyeing the tributes from district one: as allies or enemies, that I wasn't sure. Personally, I'd prefer to get rid of them first as they'd likely present the biggest challenge. But who knew, perhaps there was a diamond in the rough from one of the lower districts that would present a problem. Rena was only considering them for the theatrics though. She didn't care about strategy as much as I did, she cared only for how she looked. Ultimately, I knew she would be the one I faced in the end. She had that same thirst in her eyes as I.

The lead stylist finally entered the room, stealing my attention for but a moment as she looked me up and down. Her silvery-white hair was sleek like ice, but also reminded me of powdered snow. Her eyelashes—and makeup—mimicked the snowflake look to the point that I almost couldn't find some of her features. Finally, she took a step back and faced the mirror. I could only look her in the eye through our reflections.

"Is there a verdict?" I asked, playful yet subtly hinting that she should move things along.

"Satisfactory." Her reply was blunt and her words were cold. "As you may have guessed, I'll be aesthetically preparing you for the games. You may call me Laverne."

"Romulus," I felt the need to introduce myself even though we both knew she didn't need it. My name had been broadcasted on live television. To assume she hadn't watched, well that would be ignorant.

"The wolf."

"Sorry?" I questioned the words that had left her lips.

"You'll need a name," she explained. "Something that the capitol will use to recognize you. It's what you will forge your identity around during the games, and what you shall be known as until death."

I slowly nodded my head. It made sense. All of the victors that had come before were all known for their trials during the games or by the method which they one. My own mentor for example—Artemisia Flores: rumored to have poisoned the remaining tributes during a false truce. She earned the nickname Nightlock. No one's ever really been able to confirm whether or not it was true, but the story became legend.

"Now stay absolutely still," Laverne instructed. "I must not be disturbed while I work."

She worked for what felt like hours in silence, which of course I didn't mind since it had been my intention to keep the talking to a minimum. We each had our own strategies to create: only hers lacked real substance whereas mine meant life or death. She was matching silks and satins, I was moving pawns across the chess board of a game so intricate even I got lost at times.

I didn't realize that she had finished until Rena interrupted to perfect moment of silence. She slinked into the room, but her chainmail dress that mimicked the scale of a snake clinked with every step she took. Stealth was obviously not its purpose; however, it did silhouette her figure nicely. She had a silver headdress to match—curling around her head like snake—and a necklace that never connected but mimicked the shape of fangs on the ends. From head to toe, there was no mistaking the intentionality of her designs.

"So, a snake?"

"Vipress," she corrected. The ends of her lips curled as she sauntered in front of the mirror, looking herself over. "Flavius—my stylist—said it would make a name for me. He said none of the other tributes would compare in the light of the arena."

I turned my attention to the mirror, noticing the differences and similarities of our ensembles. I similarly had a chainmail breastplate, but over my shoulder was a large fur cloak. I too had a necklace that mimicked fangs, but there was an overall canine feel to my aesthetic. Rather than a headdress, I was offered other jewelry, a set of connecting rings and bracelet that curled away like claws. As for the elements of masonry, faux weapons were incorporated into the weapons along with the armor. Rena's sleek dress had a trail of knives; whereas I had a sword at my hip and a warrior's helmet molded to the form of a howling wolf.

Rena caught my glance in the mirror, then leaned against my shoulder and whispered in my ear, "We'll strike fear into the hearts of anyone that lays eyes on us."

"And how does that help you acquire allies?" I asked.

"Fear and respect walk hand in hand," she replied. "When you have one, the other is easier to acquire. Then it's only a matter of time before the people flock toward the source of power."

"Usually for protection," I noted. "In this case, I'd think the inverse though... watch your back."

She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. "Why? I've got you for that until the final stretch. Because whether you like it or not, you need me."

I frowned then rose from my chair, snatching her wrist before she could patronize me as she reached to stroke my jaw. My eyes narrowed. "And why would I need you? I survived the academy just fine on my own."

"A lone wolf never survives," she replied, pulling her wrist away as she spat with venom. Her expression returned to that sickly sweet, sultry tone as she batted her eyelashes. "You need a pack. Frankly, you'd be stuck in the shadows without me by your side. I know you better than most, and I know how unlikeable you are. You don't believe in pageantry and theatrics, but that's half of the key to winning... To put it simply, Romulus, you're boring. You eat, breath, sleep, and train. Now what kind of entertainment is that? The capitol wants a champion, not just a victor."

I was quiet. I had no venomous retort—she was hoarding that all for herself—because she did have a point. I'd need her to gain the capitol's favor because the truth of the matter was no one won without the capitol's favor. We all knew the games were rigged that way, but no one ever dared a dress it. Your skill might get you ninety percent of the way there, but without the support of surveyors, you were good as dead.

These were the thoughts ruminating in my mind as we loaded into the chariots and began the opening procession of the games. District One would lead, and although they looked shiny in the gems and silks, their ensembles did not have the same refinement as Rena's and my own. Comparatively, it was clear who'd received the better stylist. And it would only go downhill with each additional chariot to follow after.

I was temporarily blinded by the arena lights that flooded the evening sky as we raced into the open air. I took a deep breath, but remained stoic as we continued onward. I didn't need to play a character yet, I needed to show the strength of District Two. This had been my plan until Rena sidled closer, wrapping her arms around mine like tight coils.

"Smile," she hissed between gritted teeth as she beamed. "You can be a block of stone later. Now's the time to show the crowd we've got a personality."

I rolled my eyes, but I didn't disagree. I simply placed a thin-lipped smile on my face as Rena leaned a head against my shoulder for a briefly second before waving to the crowd with a hand that slithered in the air.

We were halfway down the stretch, and the cheers of the crowd had yet to compete with the ambience levels of the first two districts; however, there was an uproar from the crowd at a time I hadn't expected.

Rena had the largest frown on her face. But as I turned my head to understand, I was blinded once more. I quickly covered my eyes, blinking away the golden lights before my sight returned enough to check again. This time I was more cautious, catching a glimpse of gold toward the end of the chariot line.

Finally, I saw the whole picture. My eyes widened in awe at the ethereal sight of the tribute from District Nine of all places. Her red hair was curled, but pulled away from her face—held back by a headdress that was reminiscent of the spokes of the sun. Her dress flowed with movement as the trim practically reached the front of the chariot behind. It was gold, reflecting in the firelight, but linked together so delicately that it looked like wheat in the wind. At her side, a boy, dressed in a golden toga that mimicked the grain pattern of the girl's dress. Around his head, a crown of laurel and a set of golden wings on his back that also flowed in the wind.

She was a goddess, and she looked the part without fault. The smile on her face was soft, but the hardened look in her eyes put her above the rest. It was like she truly believed herself greater than the theatrics. She resonated power... and even if it was all an act, I found myself believing it if only for a second.