literature

Let the Games Begin ch. 5

Deviation Actions

AliceAndBlazePwnYou's avatar
Published:
615 Views

Literature Text

My eyes are squeezed shut, and my teeth are gritted, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when Alasia, the only member of my prep team with half a brain, yanks the hair off of my arm. She gives me a sympathetic look, but it's hard to take her seriously. Her hair has been dyed into a vertical rainbow- an inch of red hair, then orange, et cetera- and her lip has been pierced with an inch-long green metallic bar. "Sorry!" she gasps as I squeak a little bit. "I'm trying! It's almost over!"

Surprisingly, she's the most normal of my prep team. Marcus, who is currently pulling my loose hair into calculated curls, is wearing glasses with inch-thick black rectangular frames around them. He's dressed somewhat businesslike, in a very nice charcoal-colored suit. The only problem with him is that every inch of his skin maches the black in his outfit, hair, and glasses. "Oh, it's fine, Alasia," he says carelessly, wrenching my hair back, nearly out of my head. "Don't be such a drama queen."

Yasmin, who is finishing filing my toenails, has somehow gotten her eyes enlarged so they take up about half of the plane of her face. It's somewhat disturbing, and it doesn't help that her eyelids are tattooed violet. Not to mention, she has something that looks suspiciously like cat's whiskers protruding from inside her mass of neon pink curls. "Shut up, Marcus," she sighs. Even though she's an airhead, Yasmin's heart is in the right place. It's hard not to like her.

Carefully, I roll my eyes upward to glare at Marcus, because his most recent curl actually did pull some of my hair out. "Please," I say in a sugary-sweet tone, "don't pull all of my hair out." Marcus rolls his eyes. "Grease her down," he snaps, right as Yasmin lifts her nail file as she finishes and my final bits of arm hair are waxed out by Alasia. They rub me with some kind of lotion while Marcus continues messing with my hair. It feels like he's washing it, because it's all wet, but it's ridiculously painful for a washing. Finally, I can't take it anymore.

"What are you doing to my hair?" I demand, trying to twist away. Marcus looks down at me disapprovingly. 'I am trying to use some con-di-tion-er," he snaps, pronouncing every syllable. I glare at him. "And using some con-di-tion-er will nearly scalp me?" Marcus sighs. "I was try-ing to rub it in!"

"Marcus, can't you see you're hurting her?" Yasmin snaps suddenly. Alasia, still rubbing lotion onto my stinging skin, nods vigorously. Marcus's mouth opens in surprise, and then closes. "Fine," he says through pursed lips. "You take over. I'll grease her."

Yasmin is much more gentle, lightly massaging conditioner through my curled hair. Vaguely, I wonder why it got curled in the first place if I'll just get the curls washed out. Maybe it's so they know where to curl when they do it again, but that's just stupid. Why do they have to do it twice? Marcus is still rubbing me very vigorously. I feel like I'm going to have a bruise on my leg where he's rubbing the same spot with lotion over and over and over again.

After the lotion sinks in and my skin is no longer stinging, Marcus walks out without a word. Alasia sighs, watching his back disappear, then turns to me. "Don't worry, he's just a sourpuss," she says apologetically. I catch myself wondering where on earth she got the word "sourpuss" from, even though I don't care. "I'll go get Al. Yasmin, you go make sure that he doesn't punch a window or something!"

As Alasia and Yasmin bustle out, I pick up my robe, just in case I need to put it on. After Len and I went to bed last night, we found ourselves rolling into the Capitol as we woke up. We're currently in prep for the chariot ride around City Circle. Since Katniss and Peeta's fiery debut twenty years ago, the costumes for District Twelve went from spectacular to amazing to decent, to downright shameful. Last year, for the third time in ninety-four years, the tributes were just covered in coal dust. I hope this new stylist- and he certainly is new, because there's been nobody named Al before- will make us look presentable.

Who I believe is Al walks in, and I have to try not to laugh. He looks somewhat normal, really. His hair appears to be naturally black, though I'm not a good judge of natural hair color, considering I haven't seen much dye. His skin appears to be naturally tanned, although I'm not a good judge of this either. But there seems to be either staples or stitches across his forehead, and it looks somewhat old-fashioned, pre-Panem monster-movie-bad-guy-ish.

"I'm your stylist, Big-Al," he says in a deep, gravelly voice. He simply looks over me and nods. "Exactly what I thought," he says softly to himself. "Let's have lunch, prep must have left you starving." I put on my robe and follow him out to a beautiful balcony, overlooking the whole Capitol. It's nothing short of beautiful, but for some reason, all I can think of is home. It was so much more beautiful, with its nature, the hills and trees and the meadow. I miss every bit of it, from the hideous coal mines to the bright city square and the green hills. Why can't I be home? I'm so upset. I just want to be in the woods with Teto and Len, ready to be forced to watch the Games but still together. Why did this have to happen? Why did I have to be called? I'm furious.

Suddenly, I remember where I am, and realize that my fists are clenched in my lap. I look up, loosening them, and I see Al looking at me with some concern. "I-I'm fine, just thinking," I murmur as the soup comes out. It's a vibrant magenta, and it's savory, not tart like I expected. After that, everything comes fast. The same dark brown roast meat from the train, still sliced paper-thin. A fruit platter filled with something that looks strangely like pale yellow strawberries. For a dessert, there's a sweet, multicolored swirly thing that Al calls "sherbet." It's delicious and fruity and tart, and I nearly eat myself sick with it.

"Well, my partner Ann and I want to put District Twelve back on top," Al says while I'm eating a bright orange part of the sherbet. "We're tired of people focusing on just the coal, or just the fire. So, we thought of a way to combine them both." For some reason, this makes me a little nervous, and I lower the sherbet spoon. "Let's go," I sigh resignedly. Back into prep.

Al is busy tweaking my chariot costume while the prep team tries to do everything they can in an hour. If I had an hour to do something for me, I would probably look decent. But they're acting like he told them they had five minutes. Alasia is dusting first my face, then my entire body with a strange black powder. I think it's the same thing that Marcus is trying to massage into my hair, and that Yasmin is painting on my fingernails. When they finish, I look like I've been dusted in coal powder. Then, Al comes out with a garment bag. "Close your eyes," he orders.

When I open my eyes, two things strike me. The first is how many diamonds I'm wearing. They're on the tips of the tiara on my head and furry shawl around my shoulders, clipped onto my ears, in two ropes around my neck, sewn into the waistline and hemline of my dress, around my wrists, and in belts around my shoes. The second thing is that every single thing I'm wearing is black. The tiara, shawl, dress, and wedge-heeled mini-boots are all jet-black. The same black is massaged into my curled hair, painted on my nails, and dusted on my whole body. It looks like I walked into a shower of black dust and walked out with clean diamonds.

At first, I'm absolutely dazzled by how I look. I look like a princess. Maybe that was part of what Al was going for. Then a strange thought hits, and I turn to Al. "Where's the fire?"

Al has a giant grin on his face. He slides a tiny flashlight out of his pocket and aims it at me. Then, he turns it on. I watch in the mirror, mesmerized as he moves it around. Wherever the light hits the black, both the outfit and the makeup, it explodes in rings of fire. When he turns it off, I'm dazzled. "How..." I breathe. I feel strange. I feel wonderful. For the first time in my life, I truly feel beautiful.

When we get to the chariots, I find Len and his stylist, who has unnaturally yellow hair and tan skin, plus stitches on her neck to match Al's on his forehead, already waiting. Len is dressed similar to me, except he has a remarkably decreased amount of diamonds. They decorate the tip of the strange cane he's carrying- probably for decoration- and the cuffs of the plain white shirt under his black coat. He has a top hat and black pants and boots, too. It looks like he's some kind of a businessman or something.

Len's face splits into a grin as I approach. "You look amazing," he whispers in my ear as I hug him. "So do you," I whisper back. We pull away and climb onto the chariot. Al nods approvingly as the District 1 tributes, with clashing silver and gold everything, leave to start the parade. "You two look fantastic," he declares. Len and I stand tersely, ready to be live on every single screen in every home in every district. "You nervous?" I hiss out of the corner of my mouth as the District 5 tributes pull out. Almost imperceptibly, he nods. Then, as the District 6 chariot leaves, he murmurs, "You?"

"No way!" As I grin, I realize that the words are true. I'm pumped up and loving it. Len and I have sponsors to earn, and we have to start somewhere. An old saying also worms its way into my mind: "The clothes make the man." I remember not getting that, because Len and I were taught that clothing is superficial. But as I'm dressed so beautifully, I feel confident. I'm ready to show the other districts what District Twelve can do.

As our chariot jerks into motion, Len finds my hand and grips it hard. The horses pull us into the City Circle, and everything stops. There's only polite applause, and even that is overpowered by booing. I look down and see that to them, we just look like we're dressed in fancy black clothing. No more. Our costumes aren't lighting up.

Suddenly, the first ripple of fire hits Len's top hat, and the crowd holds its breath. Suddenly every spotlight is on us, and we're exploding in a flurry of fire. The cheering is absolutely wild at this point. Flames are shimmering on my skin, my face, my dress, my tiara, and my furry shawl. The reflections dancing on the diamonds look dazzling. Al and Ann have pulled off what absolutely has to be the most spectacular costume of the night.

When the new president, President Argus, steps up to make whatever speech he makes, I take the opportunity to glance around. Lola from District 1 is glaring sulkily at us. Luka and Gakupo from 8, dressed in lavish ribbons, are also staring at us, thunderstruck and envious. Kiyoteru from 2 has his hand on Yuki's shoulder, like a father and daughter. Chii and Aido from 5 are embracing each other and staring out, smiling tearfully. Meiko from 4 is dressed like a mermaid, with her hair wet and slicked back. She looks very unhappy with her stylists. Miku and Kaito from 9 are smiling, but seem to be speaking in hushed whispers out of the corners of their mouths.

Then, as the cameras cut around City Circle ones the president finishes, I see that they linger on us. All of the other tributes get half a second as the cameras whirl around, but we get hit with so many lights that the ripples of flames are overlapping and exploding. The cameras stay fixated on us until the screens pop into black.

As Len and I clamber off of our chariot, Al and Ann find us and swoop down immediately. "You guys were amazing!" Effie squeals from behind them. "Fantabulous! Beautiful! I can't believe it! You're the best team I've ever had!" I try not to remark that we're only the third team she's ever had. "You did an amazing job!" I say grinningly to Al and Ann. Len hyper-nods beside me, then lets my hand go. I look down, surprised. I had forgotten he was holding it.

When Len and I find our rooms, I'm absolutely astonished. We're in the Training Center, on the uppermost floor. While Len's room doesn't have much, I have a beautiful view of the Capitol. It's a panorama, and I'm in love with it. I'm a dreamer, after all. Dreamers need to see what dreams can do, and the Capitol is the perfect place to see that.

Once I'm in the shower, I realize that the black powder is stuck to my skin. It's not coming off, no matter what I try. It rinses out of my hair easily, but then a thin sheet gets stuck to my back. "Urghhh!" I groan, frustrated. Finally, I start hitting buttons in the massive control panel, and end up getting a massive sponge with a pale green bottle of soap. It scrubs a little bit of skin off along with the black powder, but I'm just glad that it's gone. The only trace of what has happened is on my fingernails.

During the recap of the chariot ride, I have to admit that I'm dazzled by our costumes just as much as the Capitol. I didn't get the full effect, smiling and waving and blowing kisses. But with the fire overlapping on our lavish black outfits, it's beautiful.

That night, everything seems to be fiery. There's a plate of fruit skewers that's still on fire when it comes out- Al calls it "flambe." All of the food seems to be brilliant shades of red, orange, or yellow. There's a deep red meat that looks as if it's been charcoal-roasted. The whole time, everybody is exclaiming about how brilliant we were, or how fantastic it looked, or how much they were dazzled.

But although I accept their praise joyfully, there's a strange sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I feel like this isn't everything there is. To the other tributes, we're in the way of their sponsors. We're bumps in the road that need to be overcome. We're the first targets. And unless we can get enough people on our side, something tells me that the road ahead won't be this easy for Len and me.
And thus the black powder leaves Rin's skin. XD

Well, this chapter... I guess it's sort of boring. Just the chariots, yappin' at Marcus, and blah-blah-blah. But is it just me, or do I have a slight inability to end a chapter with a happy ending?

The stupid thing is I FORGOT that they would wash Rin's hair... and then got too lazy to change it... hence the stupid curling. Rin is right, though, they curled her hair for a reference for the next time. XD

BTW, while nearly EVERYONE- and I do mean EVERYONE- is either a Vocaloid, UTAU, or something related to this, Alasia, Marcus, and Yasmin are just made up. I considered making them PV characters, but then I realized it was sort of weird.

Al and Ann, however, are actual Vocaloids. Albeit, less well-known ones, but they're Vocaloids. Their full names are Big-Al and Sweet Ann. And yes, they do have staples/stitches. Look them up.

So. Hunger Games (C) Suzanne Collins, the Vocaloids (C) all those crazy companies like Zero-G and Yamaha, and the prep team (C) me.

TRAINING STARTS NEXT CHAPTER!!

Oh, and I DO have another story chapter mostly done. Hopefully it'll be up soon. You'll be happy, I promise!!
© 2010 - 2024 AliceAndBlazePwnYou
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
AdJiT's avatar
I think you need to make reference sheet with all of the vocaloids with links to pictures of them. Because I only now a few of these ^^"