Bright lights nearly blind me as I sit in a tall chair, my arms and legs crossed to ward off the chill of the sterile white room in a Capitol building called the Remake Centre. Mirrors and cabinets holding all sorts of containers and contraptions fill every wall, with multiple huge closets tucked into corners, and I look around trying to keep myself busy as my new prep team discusses something I can't hear in the corner of the room.

There are three of them- A tall woman with obscenely long streaked pink-and-purple hair, and odd violet eyes, a shorter, pudgy girl with metallic rose gold curls and a clearly artificial- almost orange- tan, and another person too androgynous for me to tell their gender. I'll wade on the safe side and be neutral with them for now. They have short hair streaked in black and white, with dark eyes and piercings, tattoos and jewelry covering every appendage and available space on their dark skin. All three members of the prep team talk fast and loud, and their accents have an annoying tone, like a screechy bird.

They stop talking all at once and come toward me. I smile halfheartedly, trying not to stare at their unnaturally coloured hair and eyes. "Hello, dear! I'm Sarafia, but you can call me Sara," She exclaims, "this is Celadine, and that's Blythe!" She points to her partners in turn. "We'll be your prep team for your time in the Capitol!"

I greet them quietly, and they begin to examine my body with great interest, I'm stiff while they circle me like sharks. I've never liked strangers to be too close to me, physical touch has never been my thing, and now in my flimsy blue dress, I feel exposed.

All the while, they make little comments that just succeed in making even more uncomfortable.

"Bit of a masculine face. We'll have to fix that when we start with the makeup."

"Her skin is uneven on her shoulders from sunburns- what helps with that?"

"That hair is super dead-ended. I'll trim it in a minute. And those nails? We have our work cut out for us."

Masculine face, dead-ended hair? My nails? I scowl and twist the bracelet around my wrist to distract myself. So far the Capitol is terrible, and its citizens are even worse. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as they instruct me to undress.

                                                      ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

My body feels raw and my skin is red and irritated as I cover myself with a thin sheet. I stare down at my legs, polished and hairless, and inspect my nails, once ragged and now perfectly rounded and smooth. It was painful- And extremely tedious, but I do look good. I run my hands through my hair, shorter, but still almost a quarter down my back and silk-smooth.

The three members of the prep team stand back and admire their handiwork.

"You look so much better, Whimsey. One moment, your stylist will be here soon!" They leave, and I'm left alone. I stare up at the ceiling, watching a shadow dance across the pale painted surface. I wind my bracelet- that they thankfully left alone- around my reddened wrist, tracing the crescent moons and five-point stars. It's strangely comforting, and I let myself get lost in the repetitive motion.

I wonder who my stylist will be. There are a bunch in the Capitol who rotate around, and a few that stay with their favourite District. I forget who usually styles four, but the outfits in the last few years have been stunning. Last year they had been pearl-themed- a girl in a short white dress adorned with pearls, her skin iridescent, her makeup opalescent against her blue eyes and blond hair, and a boy in a white suit with the shiny sea gems stitched expertly to his lapel.  They caught a ton of eyes and got sponsors easily. I wonder what my theme will be.

Lost in thought, I jump at the sound of the door opening to my left. My stylist stands there, one hand on the doorframe. She's tall and thin with long blonde hair hanging flatly down her back. A pastel yellow-and-pink dress shirt and skirt hug her body, looking as if they were made to her exact measurements. They probably were. Her features look sharp and soft at the same time, and her eyes are doelike, a dark blue with a strangely sharp, feline-like pupil.

She smiles, coming toward me and extending a hand. I'm shocked by how... Normal she looks. Her clothing is fancy, sure, but her hair and skin are normal colours. She looks to be in her upper forties, or early fifties, but I could be wrong. Her face is still quite youthful, but there's a certain look in her eyes and an air to her movements that hints at seniority.

"You're Whimsey, I take it? I'm Tigris- Tigris Snow. I'll be your stylist for your time in the Capitol." Her voice is soft and sounds kind. She smiles again, this time wider, and I notice something odd about her canine teeth. They're long and sharpened, almost like a cat's. Like a tiger's. On closer inspection of her hand cupped around mine, her nails are filed to sharp points too, and there seem to be tattooed stripes leading down her wrist in rhythmic patterns.

I smile back and shake her hand with little  hesitation. "Nice to meet you."  Her predatory teeth and claws and the strange tattoos aren't intimidating to me. They're kind of cool to look at.

She circles around me, nodding and taking in different angles of my body, then measuring them and jotting down numbers on a tiny pad of paper. I hug the sheet tighter as she makes a full turnaround and comes back to face me.

"District 4, right? I can tell- your arms have a lot of muscle, and your skin is fairly tanned. You're a very lucky girl- you've got nice features."

"My prep team didn't think so," I scoff.

"Oh, they're just critical. You'll be able to pull off whatever outfit I put you in." She assures me. My bracelet catches her eye from my wrist, and she gazes at it curiously.

"Is that your token?"

"Yeah," I raise my arm and she studies the silver jewelry. "Stars and moons, District 4... Honey, I think I have an idea."

She turns to a huge closet, and fishes out a length of midnight blue fabric. It shimmers slightly under the harsh lighting of the room. Tigris hugs it tightly to her chest and takes several more bolts of cloth from various places in the room, eventually setting down the midnight fabric, a paler blue one, and an iridescent, see-through material. She looks excited.

"Usually we stylists theme the outfits around the purpose of the tribute's District, but I think I can make something a little different work. Midnight over the ocean, if you will? Stars and moons and shimmer. You'll be the prettiest one in the tribute parade. Your District partner too."

"Who's working on Finn?"

"My assistant, Micah. He'll be in here soon to talk about the theme and discuss measurements."

She starts to cut and trace fabric, carefully pressing a blade to the cloth, and using her claws to pin it to the table. I have nothing to do so I try to make some sort of conversation.

"You said your last name is Snow- are you related to President Snow? At my words, she stiffens slightly. She makes eye contact with me, and for a split second, I see a flash of fear cross their blue depths. It fades in a moment, but a trace of the terror that had been there before still lingers.

"Cousin," she spits coolly. Obviously, he isn't a topic she likes to discuss, and I lean back. I'm curious but I don't dare press. I wonder how such a sweet woman could possibly be related to the cruel president of Panem. They bear hardly any resemblance, but I suppose Snow might have had more of a blond colour in his hair when he was young. The silence is deafening, but luckily a younger man with pale skin and curly brown hair enters the room- Micah, I presume.

He greets Tigris and I and takes her over to show her another notebook. I'm not sure what's in it, but she seems happy with what it contains. He leaves and she comes back, her mood restored to placid and happy.

"I've discussed with Micah about the plans and measurements and I'm ready to start on your outfit. Here- mess with this while I work." She hands me yet another notebook- I wonder where she gets them all- and a pencil. A smile spreads across my face and I start to sketch something- a little bird- immediately.

"Thank you, Tigris."

"It's no trouble. Mags told me you like to draw."

I feel my odds climb ever so slightly higher with the thought that my mentor and stylist might actually care about me, and if I get out of the games alive.

     ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I stand in front of a mirror for the second time today, this time shocked by what I see. The dress is beautiful- not even beautiful, but gorgeous.

It's long, trailing all the way down to my ankles, and every time I move, the layers of sheer fabric shimmer like moonlight on water. The sleeves are short and ruffled at the ends, like miniature waves easing down my arms. Tiny stars and moons are stitched into the dress, scattered around as if I'm wearing the sky, and the fabric has been turned into almost a gradient, with it being dark near my chest, and paler at the hem.

Tigris stands behind me, her hands clasped, beaming.

"Isn't it lovely? Oh, it suits you so well, Whimsey."

I nod, nearly speechless. I feel beautiful. I'm used to modest clothing, things that are practical for work on the docks and ships. Being pretty has always been on my radar, but not a priority. I'm not used to having things that fit so well- but every fold of this fabric hugs my body as well as a second skin. It's beautifully crafted too, every seam is tight and secure. It's obvious Tigris has been perfecting her craft for years.

"Finn should already be done, and having his hair done. The stylists will be here soon to do yours, and your makeup!"

True to her word, my prep team comes in a few minutes later, and with astonishing speed, do my makeup. It's a bit heavy for my taste- silver eyeshadow and a shiny clear lipgloss, with a pale blush and mascara that makes my lashes look longer than they are- but it's okay. My face isn't the main attraction.

My hair's been done too, and it falls in soft raven waves down my back, with little stars clipped on here and there. They must have put some sort of glitter in it at some point because it shimmers lightly in the fluorescent beams of the ceiling light.

Soon I'm being ushered along a long hallway by Mags, Micah, Tigris and Amaralie. Amaralie is chattering. Like always. Mags is talking with Tigris, and near the end of the expanse of winding passageway, I can see a somewhat familiar slicked-back crop of red hair. Finn.

His expression is serious like it usually is. He's dressed in a navy blue suit with a star-specked tie and a collar that folds elegantly over itself. His shoes raise his already towering height even higher, and I'm forced to look up at him, even though I'm at least a little bit tall for my age. He glances down at me with his cold silver stare, and I break eye contact almost immediately and step away slightly. I still don't know what it is, but I don't trust him.

Tigris and Micah walk in front of us until we reach a doorway. I can hear the distant thunder of a massive crowd, and we're pushed through into an alley where the chariots wait.

"We're right on time- another minute, we'd be late!" Amaralie huffs, adjusting her intricate hairdo. We're loaded in, the Capitol Anthem starts to blare over the speakers, and I watch as the first chariot leaves.

The tribute duo from District 1 go first, who I soon find out are named Ephraim and Citrine. They're both dressed in over-the-top, lavish outfits glittering with gems and precious stones, catering to their District theme- fine goods. Ephraim has cropped blond hair and is relatively short, but he has to be at least 16 just judging by his face. Citrine looks younger but she's taller, with pin-straight strawberry-blonde hair. Applause follows their white chariot like the buzzing of bees after a waving flower.

District 2 is next, with Theron and Lyra. I can already tell Theron will be a threat. He's tall and muscular with a keen, hungry look in his eye and a killer smile. He's attractive too, with silky chestnut hair, dressed in a vest that leaves his chest bare. Lyra looks terrified next to him, clinging to the side of the chariot with shaking hands. She's pretty- short black hair and huge brown eyes- and no doubt sponsors would want her if she wasn't so fearful.

District 3 follows, Flicker and Surge representing them. They both wear a theme of black, with a sort of shiny powder covering their skin that catches the fading light of the day, complicated and blinking like the artificial tech that they're so famous for. They're united, both holding hands and waving to the crowd- already Capitol favourites, by the roar of the crowd.

My heart pounds as Finn and I are placed in a silver chariot led by two massive white horses. Mags gives me a reassuring smile, and as the vessel starts to move, Tigris shouts out from behind us, "Smile! Win them over."

I'm stunned into stillness by the sheer size and volume of the crowd watching the parade. I look up and catch my face on a huge screen, and force myself to stand up straighter and smile, a forced grin, but no one can tell. Finn is soaking in the attention, his arms spread wide as screams of admiration respond to his sudden confidence.

I turn towards one side of the crowd and wave, seeing children and adults alike, with strange hair and accessories wave back in giddy excitement. I'm still awestruck by everything that's happening, but I don't look nearly as terrified as Lyra. Maybe the sponsors will notice me after all.

We move in a huge loop around the City Circle, the other 8 chariots filing out behind us. A few times I hear my name being called along with the names of the 23 other tributes. Finn, Theron, Scarlette, from District 7 and Thistle and Moth, the sibling duo from District 9 seem to be the most popular so far, their names echoing from the patrons of the Capitol.

The music fades with a final flourish of music, and we slow to a stop in front of President Snow's mansion. The President is standing on his balcony, wearing a deep red suit, a white rose pinned to his lapel. He's somewhat tall, and his eerily white hair flutters slightly in the evening breeze. I've never liked him; the man of the hour, the very person that put all of us in this scenario. I scowl, then quickly wipe the sour expression off my face as I realize the cameras are still panning over the various tributes.

He gives a small speech, and all the while our faces go through rotation on the multiple massive screens. They spend more time on the favourites, Moth with a dress that ends in a cape made to look like the wings of her namesake, Theron still showing off, and Finn's now stoic, proud expression, my smaller body peeking out from behind him. I pay special attention to smiling and looking appealing, even once blowing a kiss to the camera, but I immediately feel gross and decide not to do it again.

The speech ends and we're set into motion again toward the Training Centre. Once the doors close I jump from the Chariot and am greeted by the ecstatic cheers of the prep teams, Mags and Tigris. Mags starts to talk to Finn, her eyes aglow, and Tigris pulls me in for a hug. I stiffen at first but relax. She doesn't mean any harm by it.

"You two were amazing!" Amaralie gasps, clapping her hands madly. "Did you see how long the cameras stayed on you?!"

On Finn, I think but don't say it out loud. Finn is smiling for what must be the first time since I've met him. I'm exhausted, and nearly swaying on my feet as we start to walk back down the hallway to the Tribute Quarters. The first long day of many, over with.

Sorry, this took so long to come out, writer's block's an asshole, and I've basically been travelling for two weeks straight. Let me know your honest thoughts and opinions! Votes, comments and shares are also very much appreciated to help this fic hopefully get some traction. Thanks for reading!

-Your favourite procrastinator, ThatLovelyDove <3