Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor	By : CJ_Wallace Category: G through L > The Hunger Games Trilogy Views: 12259 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy and make no money off the posting of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Note before Chapter: NO, you didn't miss a chapter!!!!!!!! Chapter Five is Chapter Four! You will understand later in the story, trust me, it will be explained! For now, just roll with it.

Chapter Five
I was told I'd need to be cleaned and stripped before my stylist would see me, but my prep team was so entertaining the pain was almost worth it. Almost.
I never bothered to do more than wash the dirt off my body with the cheapest bar of soap I could buy. When my team saw the fur under my arms and on the mound between my legs, they gasped in horror and twittered between themselves. I was fascinated by their strange way of speaking, but it was their expressions that interested me the most. When they saw the scars on my back, they fell silent and simply stared at me.
Of course, they started with a long bath, which would have been nice if they hadn't been trying to scrub every inch of skin with rough sponges and long tubes of unyielding hardness. I amused myself by letting them do what they had to as I examined them.
Csheza was the youngest and newest. She spent most of the time on my feet, which had horrified her. When I tried to explain I hated shoes, she pursed her lavender lips and shook her head in disgust. After my mud-stained, calloused feet had time to soak, she took out an ornate case that contained many smooth rocks and scrubbing tools. I had always thought taking care of your feet or your body was complicated, so I had never bothered. Besides, I was too busy trying to remember every lesson my father and mother ever taught me. Turns out, all it took to keep your feet pretty was simple scrubbing and soaking, trimming the nails and shaping, then more scrubbing and soaking.
Reeza took on the task of my hair. Being the most experienced, it left her free to titter out commands to the other two. The rose was saved and placed in a slim vase set not far from the tub where I floated. I could tell it was bad, watching her face scrunch and her eyes glare at the ends. She assessed the damage and finally her soft pink eyes suddenly sparkled. "It can be fixed, and saved!" she exclaimed, which was funny to watch on its own. Her clipped way of talking mixed with hissing s's was just silly, but I closed my eyes and tried to keep a straight face. "We will have to trim," she continued. "No more than an inch I think! Oh, it'll be so beautiful for Sug! He turned to me and said, 'That girl's hair is the most beautiful shade of red... I could work with a girl like that, not like last year. All those curls, I hate curls!' I looked at him and said 'Sug, she will be stunning and sweet, just like you.'"
I was proud, hearing those words. If a stylist liked the look of you, he was less inclined to dress you in something more than nothing... or sometimes more likely, depending on the stylist. It wasn't that I was ashamed of my body, I just enjoy clothes. And people not looking at me. I enjoy that the most.
The sea foam-haired girl, Kaiza, pipped up at that point at my hands, having finished binding up my cuts and already working at my nails. They had grown a bit long in the past few weeks. I just don't notice how long my nails are as long as they weren't ragged or dirty underneath. "I heard Sug has the most beautiful rack of dresses he can't wait to show off."
That puts me at ease and I finally open my mouth and speak. "I can't wait to see them!" I gush, opening my eyes and watching Reeza's eyes drop to mine. "District One always gets the best stylists! The chance to look so beautiful for the whole nation is truly an honor." And there it was, my first step towards buttering them up. It worked like a charm, but as I expected it to, I wasn't too impressed. After that they pampered me with shampoos, conditioners, strange bubbly gels, and lots of combing. My nails had been shaped and new nails weren't even added. They were painted a deep blue and left to dry as she and Csheza darted off quickly.
After my hair was rinsed out I was helped from the tub and patted dry with fluffy towels and powders before I was led to a chair. I was still naked and covered in fur, and very embarrassed. I knew what was coming next by the guilty looks on their faces when they returned with the instruments of their torture. "Oh get it over with,” I sigh with a wry smile. “I should be punished for letting such a sexy body look so disgusting!"
And hurt it did. The hot wax, the ripping hair, the tearing... And not just my legs, but my apex, under my arms and even my eyebrows were plucked with threads they twisted together. I was attended to so well that I wondered if maybe they shouldn't have enjoyed it so much. I asked Kaiza to sing to me while she tore out the hair on my arms, to keep me from screaming. When she started a jaunty, happy tune, I couldn't help but smile weakly as the other two join in. As if to accent their song, they twirled around me, switching positions in an odd sort of dance, blending lilac, rose and teal so often I actually became comfortable, even when they tweezed the rest of my body. I lay there naked and sprawled out on their table, laughing and trying to sing along at parts I knew by repetition, screaming when they ripped another patch of hair out of me. And even through the tears, I still laughed and sang.
They didn't leave a speck of hair on me. Not one. I was bare as a newborn, aside from my head. I felt so exposed, having been touched in very intimate areas, probed and plucked. My skin was treated with lotions and carefully painted until it was shimmering silvery-white and oh so soft. My hair was blown dry, combed and brushed, and dusted with silver glitter to match my skin. By time I was finished I smelled of cinnamon, cloves, roses and a faint hint of a flower I'd never smelled before. The rose I could smell the most however, but it was altered... sweetened, so it almost covered the faint scent underneath it.
"It's the scent of that blue rose you like so much," Kaiza trilled, pleased with herself.
"We figured since you can't take the rose, we'd make you smell like it. Of course, the complementing smell is the Ancient Cherry..." Csheza said with a knowing smile. "For your... background."
My smile melted a little and I looked away, my eyes hardening. "Yes... thank you. The Sakura was my mother's favorite flower. It honors her to smell this way."
I was part of what was called "the Ancient" race. Orientals as they used to be called, had become Ancients just after the rebellion of District 13, along with other older races. I'm from the Japanese faction. Both my father and my mother were of the "Ancient" race, but separate factions. There are few hundred left, and maybe a couple hundred more half-borns or mixed blood. Most of them are Peacekeepers, or controlled by trade.
The ones in District One thrived in the Jewelry Sector and made fancy pieces out of shells, glass and gems. We're set apart by our eyes, which are always slanted and almond shaped, and our sleek and shiny hair, usually black. My parents were both half-born, though the names of races had been lost long ago. My mother had red hair which she passed down to me, and I got my father's green eyes.
It wasn't too big of a deal, I just didn't expect it to be brought up. After all, it wasn't like they hadn't had Ancients as tributes before. If I won, it could help in getting me established in the Jewelry Sector where I hoped to work.
"Then we're all happy!" Kaiza exclaimed, clapping her hands. "If you just wait here, we'll go get Sug and he'll finally be able to decide what to get you into! I think I have an idea though!" She smiled mysteriously, then walked off with the other girls giggling.
I was left confused, but deliciously free. I rubbed my soft silvery skin and ran my hands through my hair. It was so soft it felt like feathers and left free to float behind me, swishing at every turn of my head. It would be styled later I assumed, unless they planned on leaving all this hair flowing down my back. I sat next to the vase that held the precious rose, the one that had sliced up my hand. Reminded of the injuries, I looked at my palms. Any trace of the nail marks and the cuts I got from the thorns were gone, entirely healed. While I was glad they wouldn't mar my hands, I wasn't really sure if I wanted them gone. They had meant something to me. But they had been healed somehow, as if Jet's kiss had erased them...
I scowled at the rose, which had seemed so important, as I jammed the ring that had been previously removed back on my finger. It had played out spectacularly for our arrival, but the meaning had been lost with Jet's actions. Now the Capitol wanted to make us look sweet. That was not what either of us had in mind, I was sure; and I wondered how I could spin our next encounter.
The Tribute Parade. It was a simple enough concept. Each Tribute's stylist dressed them all up to represent their Districts and they rode in Chariots down the street to the Training Center. Being in District One, the Luxury District, we always get extravagant costumes.
Before I could finish my contemplations, I was alerted to my stylist's presence by his deep, booming laugh.
"There she is!!! Oh my beautiful flower, you look ravishing!" The speaker was a tall, broad, muscled dark-skinned man, and a handsome man at that. His skin was so dark it had a purple-ish hue, and his head was shaved. He smiled widely at me, his straight white teeth shining behind wide lips. "You don't know it baby, but you and that boy are really going to wow the judges this year. That rose, that kiss, that welcome! Oh I saw the broadcast, of course, but the way people talk... Well, Aollie is just beside himself with happiness. He's so tired of hard and violent..."
"Oh well I have my thorns," I said winking, rising slowly. I was getting the picture. "I'm going to win this thing, even if I have to look foolish. So tell me, what am I going to be wearing to meet my fans?"
Sug chuckled and took my hand, leading me over to a pedestal, and helping me stand on it. He circled me, and for once I didn't mind someone looking. It wasn’t invasive or lecherous, it was just to get a good idea of what he was working with. For all I knew, I was nothing more than a doll, or a mannequin to design a new dress on. Luckily, I was blessed in the breast department, only recently have developed in the past year. I was curved and thin, athletic and toned. It didn't matter what I wore, I would fill it out well. The only problem was my height. I'm shorter than most girls my age, but taller than Chiara... for now.
"No worries, little flower, I have just a few adjustments to make. I started it after watching the broadcast and had to destroy several dresses to get it right. I will bring you your dress and the finishing touches will be upon us. Until then, eat! You must be starving!" Sug crossed the room and pushed a button on the wall.
I flinched when the top of table near me moved and pulled back to allow a meal of some strange casserole rise from the bottom. It was beautiful, but I wasn't hungry. I only ate twice a day, morning and night, and never more than to settle my stomach. I had gotten used to being hungry, just to see how the tributes in poor districts did it, but when my rations lasted longer and longer, it began to be a habit... an obsession.
"I'll wait until the feast tonight," I say casually, sitting on the sofa, not bothering to cover myself with more than my hair. "I don't want to eat too much and spoil my appetite. I doubt the Capitol would take kindly to that. Besides, I want to fit into that dress you swear I'm going to win the crowd with!"
Sug gazed at me like his favorite pet, like a small lamb that he would make so beautiful... until I walked to that chopping block to eventual slaughter. Then he was gone. I was left there for some time; I think I even dozed up on the couch, legs and arms curled around myself, wrapped in my hair that glimmered and shone like a ruby. I do know that when Sug returned I jerked awake and slowly, and stiffly, unwound myself.
"She even wakes and blooms like a flower..." Reeza sighed, gazing at me.
Sug nodded, holding out a delicate dress to me. "They will help you into it, and lace it up. It will be uncomfortable to wear, but you will not want to take it off. Zas show her."
I was told to step into the dress which was slipped up about my waist and pulled into place. The dress itself was made of a pale blue silk, had the thinnest straps for sleeves, and a deep cut. It was really held in place by a soft leather bodice of the most beautiful emerald I'd ever seen. The bodice was tightly tied in the back and cupped my breasts, pushing them up and making them feel weightless, showing them off like soft mounds of moldable silver. It did however squeeze my stomach and chest uncomfortably, making my breaths short and shallow.
I look in the mirror and could barely believe my eyes. The front of the skirt was shorter in front, but the back was long enough to barely brush the bottom of my feet. A soft skirt that was quickly pinned to the waist of the underdress with a sewn blue rose hiding the pin. It had been designed to mimic the look of a million rose petals of the deepest sapphire feathers, flowing down from my waist to the floor, covering the pale blue silk that peeked through as the feathers moved, and pooled past my feet. I had no clue how Sug had managed the skirt, but as I slowly walked, I watched it flutter. I looked at them all, gave them a confident grin and twirled slowly. The effect was amazing and I only caught a glimpse in the mirror as I turned. The petals floated gently around the silk and made it look like a river of roses spinning around me.
There were sleeves of cashmere that weren't connected to the dress at all, the same color as the silk of my dress, that were carefully tied to my upper arms and adorned with a silver cuffs to hold them in place. They fell just past my fingers, but if I reached out or lifted my hands, they fluttered up my wrists until I dropped my arms again. I think to myself silently that they really completed the outfit and was sure Sug had not overestimated his own skill.
My breaths shortened, and forced into good posture, I stood taller, lifted my chin and stared at my reflection. I looked noble, proud, and beautiful. I grin and look to my dark stylist's reflection, pleased. "It's stunning Sug!" I sighed, my tongue accidentally mimicking the hiss of the Capitol s. It honestly was the best dress I've ever seen. "However, it really needs the touch of luxury. A long strand of diamonds maybe? Do you think we can do that?" An idea had just slipped into my mind when I wasn't paying attention and began to cook, but now that it was there, I couldn't shake it. It seemed to be the perfect jab at a certain visitor I'd had in District One.
Sug looked concerned, but he held up a finger as he thought and eyed my bare throat. "If there aren't jewels, I'll be laughed out of the Capitol... However, I have a better idea." Ten minutes later he came back with the solution. The diamonds I had requested was brought, as well as a necklace of pale green jade that wrapped all the way around my neck and dripped down my chest. Over the necklace, silver chain was wrapped loosely, secured, and allowed to hang down in front of me hanging to my knees. Attached to every link of the thin chain were short thinner chains with diamond pendants affixed to the ends.
Just when I thought we were done, I was surprised for Reeza to bring in one more box. The last touch were the boots that Sug insisted on. I was against them from the very start, but he outsmarted me by grabbing my collar and reminding me, none too gently, that he had made allowances, this would be mine. I agreed quickly after that.
“Your partner will hold the chain,” Sug said, releasing me and shoving the cold metal into my hands. “Now let us get those boots on your feet. We haven’t a lot of time.”
The heels were at least three inches tall, and thin. They also wrapped up my leg and tied at the back of the knee with a scarlet ribbon. They were made entirely of crushed green velvet and looked like death traps. I insisted I put them on myself, and as I tugged them up my leg, I saw what he was attempting to show. The sharp heels resembled thorns and the ribbons were little rivers of blood. The velvet was soft and crinkled with every movement of my leg. I knew they wouldn't be seen much, and they were useless, but I humored my stylist.
I needed help from my whole prep team in standing, as not to rip my dress. Once I saw it all together, I had to admit it looked good. The only things that were left was makeup and hair. My lips and eyes were painted blue, a hue I thought I wouldn’t like on myself, but looked surprisingly good with the dress. When he gazed at my face and hair critically, I put a hand on his arm. "Leave it free," I whisper. "Nothing would look better than a flood of blood-colored hair mixing with those petals. I have every other part of me done up and beautified, let my hair be untouched. I'll deal with the bitch of untangling it from the dress later."
Sug shrugged and continued staring at my head. "Not free, but tamed perhaps... I have the perfect thing." He turned and dug through one of his boxes. He brought back a silver tiara that curled around itself like vines, adding to the rose design. He let me arrange it so my hair was pushed back and fell to my waist. Normally my hair was thin, straight and sleek like my mother’s had been. Somehow my stylists had managed to add volume, adding in soft waves.
The room was hushed and even I had nothing to say to improve it. I looked like a real tribute, leash and all. I was being lead to my death, at least I'd go in style, dripped in riches. Even if the man who would hold the roped beauty would later try and kill me. That would have to be acted out carefully, and would take all my concentration, and a little luck. I just hoped I could press Jet's buttons the proper amount in the proper time... I just hoped he didn't try and control the situation.
When I saw my partner tribute, I was pleased to be wearing more.
The dark patch of hair that had curled lightly over his chest had been removed, as well as the stubble on his face and neck. He was smooth and considerably lighter, though his dark curls had been treated almost as nicely as my hair. He also had small flakes of silver in his hair, which I found very distracting. His stylist, a slim beauty of a man, had draped nothing more than a strip of sapphire cloth about his waist in a short skirt and fastened it with a wide belt of silver. He wore no shoes, no jewels, no protection whatsoever. He looked plain next to my extravagant dress, and it was obvious.
He was scowling until he noticed us; he was a boy, possibly on the verge of manhood. In that moment of recognition, all traces of innocence and anger were stripped away. He pushed away from the wall where he was slouching and looked me up and down, his eyes locking on the chain of diamonds that hung down my front. We had forgotten entirely about our stylists, our prep teams and everyone in the Capitol. It was just us.
I had been nervous until I saw him, then I was resolved. I needed to play him, to go home. Nothing more, nothing less. He was easy, just like every other male. I play like I'm shy and took the chain in my hands, twisting it nervously. "You look... um..." I reached out barely brushing a finger down his bare chest.
He sighed and looked away. "Yeah, I know. You too."
That made me laugh, which forced me to gasp painfully. If I breathed too deeply, my ribs were crushed together and my bodice forced the air out. "It hurts to be beautiful," I say sadly, motioning to the outfit. "So... you like it?"
Jet's eyes swept over me again, a faint smile on his lips. "The whole of Panem will not be able to forget a girl that looks as pretty as you..."
My cheeks flushed and I looked away, shoving the chain into his hands. "I guess you're supposed to hold this. I'll look really stupid with it on if you don't, so just... humor them?"
Jet really did smile then, that sly one I'd seen before he'd joined me at the train window, before he glanced to the adults in the corner who were glancing at us between comments, beaming proudly. "Well, with you on my arm or on a leash, I guess they want to establish that you're mine, don't they?"
I wanted to walk away right then, my plan be damned, but everything was going so well... Sug was giving me a reassuring smile, and so I let just a little of my anger surface. "Or maybe that's what you want the Capitol to think! What was that kiss on my hand? I mean... I know I started it by grabbing your arm, but you took it to a whole other level!"
He shook his head and pulled me closer to him. His head tilted down and my heels made the height between us shrink enough that being close to him was uncomfortable. "Oh no..." his voice is low and growling as he smiles, making it look like we were having a secret exchange. "We're still playing your game, I'm just changing the rules. We both know you'd kill me without a second thought, I want you to know I'm not above doing the same. You handing me this..." he held up the sparkling rope of gems and slender silver links. "It's more ironic than anything. When we ride down the street, I'm going to show Panem how I have you under my control. And when I kill you in the arena, they'll see I'll do anything to win."
My eyes flashed, and I did the only thing I thought would revolt him. I stepped forward and rose on my tiptoes to kiss him. It was short, and soft, but despite the hesitation, he pulled me close to him for a mere second before shoving me back. We don't speak, but our eyes screamed our emotions. His rage flicked over me, sharp and electric, cold. I could feel a heat coming from my hands and face, but I stared him down.
"I will kill you for that," he whispered, shrugging off Silvya's hand on his shoulder.
"I'll kill you for no reason," I remind him, pushing away from the wall and breezing past, lifting the feather skirt so I won’t trip. I ignored them calling after me and focused only on the important thing: my dress. I loved the way it felt as I stormed to the elevators and imagined I looked dangerously beautiful. It kept my breathing steady, even though I wanted to scream. It kept me upright when I wanted to melt against a wall, and the effect the brush of it had against my legs distracted me enough to keep me moving.
I had no knowledge if there were cameras watching, but why would I doubt it? Both of our styling teams had gotten a front row seat, it would reach Aollie's ear in no time! It's all a game to them, and we're merely pieces. I was fine with that. I could pick which piece I wanted to be. It wasn't set... nothing was set. Your own skills shape the game, along with the skills of the other tributes, my father once said.
I ignored Jet as he walked up behind me silently, but when he grabbed my leash, I flinched. I didn't expect it, but immediately I looked up at him, my angry glare back.
He was staring at the elevator door, stone-eyed and mimicking Sid's frown rather well. "Let's just make the best of this and save our hostility for the Arena. It's not your fault I'm here, but you are in the way of me going home. I won't let anything get in the way of getting back."
I nodded and swallowed hard. He knew everyone was fighting for the same thing; everyone just wanted the nightmare to be over and just go home. I think of Chiara and hope that if I made it out, she'd still want the monster that would be shipped back to District One. I'd seen some of the victors living in the village, and they were always so scary I was loathe to interact with any of them. The Hunger Games changed people, and it was going to change me.
It wasn't long until we were led to what can only be described as a horse barn. The chariots are all lined up with the decorated horses hooked up. Our chariot was first, the horses were white with a soft sheen of powder blue and silver glitter. They were draped in sapphire silk that would trail behind them as they walked, like my dress would behind the chariot. Oh, Sug had outdone himself! Such a sweet man...
Jet stiffened beside me and turned, jerking me to him, arms around my waist protectively. “Care to say that again?” he said in a low growl.
I look up, startled, wondering if he had heard my thoughts. He was looking behind him, shielding me from view. I peek out around him, gathering my feather skirt carefully. Some of the tributes were joining us, I could see Brock standing off to the side ever watchful, but silent. District Two's female tribute, the tributes from Three and Four, the girl from Six, and the boys from Nine and Ten were behind us. The rest, if they were there, were blocked by Jet's broad torso. I hadn't heard what had been shot at us, but from the reaction from Jet, it must have been lewd. I heard it the second time though.
“I said,” the snotty girl from District Two, “it looks like Pretty Boy has a horse of his own.” Her blue eyes were defiant, and much braver than she had acted on Reaping Day. “If you ask me, the horses pulling your chariot look like better mounts.”
I pushed away from him and tried to step back, but Jet refused to release me. I wanted to kill them all right there, and I wanted to get away. Never had I been so insulted, but I understood their jealousy. I was beautiful at a glance, but sexy up close, and I could be sweet to the crowd. Never mind that I had received the best stylists with a vision of using my coloring to bring out the best in me. I just wanted to get to the chariot, but Jet dragged me to his side, shortening the leash. I growled and snarled for him to let me go. This is not what I had planned, and on top of it, I was finding it very hard to breathe. My dress was too tight and the chain was tightening over my necklace...
"Oooh!" the girl from District Four said, bouncing up next to Cairn in her green, turquoise and purple sequined gown that clung to her like scales. "Looks more like a bitch on that leash!" she squealed, pointing and laughing. "Pretty, but dangerously feral. Are you sure you can handle something so wild?"
Jet laughed, louder than I heard him laugh before, and short, like a bark. "Oh, she's a handful, to be sure! If I don't keep her tied up, there's no telling what she'll do to me. The little fox tried to kiss me upstairs."
I stared up at him, horrified. I lost all fight and stood stock still by his side, my mouth pressed into a thin line. The girls were now glaring at me, and I saw the boy from District Ten taking my clothes off with his level stare. I was creeped out and had no other reaction than to shrink to Jet's side, keeping my mouth shut.
"Lookie there... How many of you men can do that?" Jet boasted, laughing. He gave a tug to my leash and led me to the chariot. Sug and Silvya were waiting for us not far off, watching us closely for any sign of trouble.
I say nothing, my mind only focused on damage control. I had kissed him, but he had told. Now the girls were bound to think I was a loose girl who would do anything, even throw myself at my own tribute partner. And the male tributes... I didn't even want to think about that. I knew that these games got wrong quickly, and I knew for a fact rape had been shown in the arena. It wasn't always clear or at the right angle, but it's not hidden, or muted. I was having a hard time getting the screams of a small black-haired tribute from District Three I saw raped by the career boys a few years back before they slit her throat.
"Nara!"
My eyes snap up to Jet, glaring but obviously startled. I'd never heard him call me by name, much less my last. Though it was my proper title, it sounded odd coming from his mouth. It felt too familiar. "Crowley," I answer coldly.
"Chise," Sug says firmly, tugging my face to look at him before I could see Jet's reaction. "You will pay attention when I'm talking to you. I am not going to have some dazzled tribute ruin my night because she's soft. Do I have your attention?"
It was the first time anyone had treated me with contempt, and I felt a little more pressure added. I nod slowly, my eyes watering, but my jaw clenched and my eyes only on him. It was then that I see that Sug isn't just a stylist, he's a man to be respected. He could very well dress me in nothing and let me sit naked for the rest of the week. I saw that in his eyes and I feared him, finally realizing he wasn't as nice and easy-going as I had previously thought. It was the first time I had actually been deathly afraid since volunteering. This man and his pretty costumes were more than just an act, it was my very life in the Capitol.
Sug lets my chin go and crosses his massive arms, frowning sternly. After a second he set to rearranging my sleeves and speaking softly once more. "This is your chance to show the Capitol their tributes and how beautiful they are. It shows the hard work of your stylists. They reflect on us and you simply must show them to their full potential."
"Oh we will," Jet assured him, pulling me close and wrapping his arm around my waist. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of her."
I take a deep breath and put on a beautiful smile. "They won't forget this. I won't let them. You and Syl will be on everyone's lips tomorrow. Capitol women will want reproductions of this dress just to wear in their bedrooms to remember the District One tribute."
"Good," Sug said shortly, but I could tell his ego was properly inflated. "It's time."
Then they were gone, music was playing and our chariot was slowly being drawn out the doors and down the street. The crowd was thunderous, and waving to us, blowing us kisses and throwing roses. They see my dress as Jet gently releases me and mutters for me to show off as he lifts his arm to wave.
I pull away, rushing to the chariot's rail and gazed up at the alien people. I lifted my arm and the sleeve fluttered in the soft breeze that started, as if it had been summoned. It lifted my hair, and in reaction I reach up to touch it, not long, just a second. Then the breeze catches the skirt. It unfurls back and flutters so delicately, I look back over my shoulder delightedly to see the sapphire feather-petals rolling over the blue silk and spilling out behind us. When they start falling from the sky, I look up and see the crowd throwing the roses as well! It had obviously been noted it was my favored flower and I apparently had many fans!
I look back laughing, just in time to see the District Two's grey mares pulling out their tributes. Brock looked even more intimidating in the dark grey tank and the black pants he's clad in. He looks like a stone wall, impassive and bored. It makes me shiver, but I shoot a pleased smile to Cairn. She sees the flowers, even before I point them out for her, and shoots back a withering glare. She looks too ugly to be wearing such a lovely white and sparkly dress, speckled with black and grey. It was either supposed to be Quartz or Granite, I couldn't be sure. Admittedly, it was beautiful and I wondered for a moment what Chiara would look like in it. The thought pulls me back around and I step closer to Jet and raise my hand to the crowd.
Sensing my balance problem, Jet pulls me close to him using the leash. It's that motion that catches my eyes on the screen that was focused on us. His arm wrapped just under mine, pulling me tight to his side, the diamond chain that wrapped halfway up his arm was clenched in his fist, fastened to my neck. He looks commanding and regal, like a dark prince.
Beside him my expression is worried, perhaps afraid, but beautiful and full of rage. The face of someone a man like Jet would want to save... or possibly even steal. The screen made him look like an alien god who had captured a beautiful princess or goddess. I want to say it looks stunning, as the Capitol seems to think, but to me it looks haunting.
It becomes the role for us to play, and so I reach for him and lean closer to his ear, looking intimate. I whispered, aware of the camera watching our approach, and I add a dangerous grin. "I'm not going to be the only one in chains tonight, Jet. I promise you that." I bite his earlobe and make it look flirtatious. "If you thought you could break me, you were wrong." I stepped away and returned my attention to the crowd, waving coyly, as if I were finally opening up.
On the inside, I felt dirty. I couldn't say I was pleased being here in Chiara's place, but I knew I'd rather be doing this than watching her do it. I wasn't proud of the things I had to do, or were forced on me, but there was no choice in the matter. So as I reached for the crowd and greeted them as they welcomed me, I sent a silent prayer that Chiara remembered my words to her. Believe nothing. Trust no one. It sounded smart to me, but the last part, Sid's words of advice... They were key to survival.
"You're dangerous when you think," Jet said just above a whisper, pulling me in front of him after a minute or two and pinning me to the front of the cart. Careful not to tread on my dress, he motioned the crowd to direct their attention to the beautiful treasure that was the pleasure to be his. "You're clever, you're crafty; your tongue must be coated in honey to win people over so easily... You have appeal..." He slowly wrapped his arms around me, cupping my breasts with the barest brushes as he reached up with his diamond clad arm. "I told you I wouldn't work with you, I meant it." He drew the chain off and across my neck, pulling my chin up gently to make me look at him.
I could feel him rubbing against me through my dress, and I close my eyes as his face dipped forward and burying into my hair. His hand curled loosely around my neck, fingering the jade beads that hung loose. I heard his sniff over the crowd's obvious thrill from this action; the slight groan that he made was louder than the whoops and calls directed at us. I was frozen and terrified, left only to look wildly at the crowd. In my horror and embarrassment, rage was forgotten. I could feel myself hoping someone would stop this, but I knew no one would. I'd seen worse displays, and knew as long as he didn't kill me, I was safe as safe could be.
He moved against me, not roughly, but enough to make me feel uncomfortable as he held me captive. I pleaded with him to stop, but he ignored me and tightened the angle of the chain. Wriggling an arm free, I lash out desperately by elbowing him in the ribs.
Jet took it with a soft grunt, then a barking laugh as he shoved me to the side, jerking my leash as he threw his fist into the air. He turned his back on me and addressed the crowd on his side, causing the men shout and whoop and women to swoon.
I knew he was laughing at me, further cementing that I was nothing but a tool, but I was forced to save face and act like it was an enjoyable experience. What was worse, he had them laughing with him at me. I made do with what I had. A moment's patience, keep my head, and I would have my chance. The show wasn't over yet. All we needed to do was entertain the crowd our whole trip, and we were doing a good job of it, surprisingly. Whether it was planned or disorganized, it was working. So I made them notice the dress, swishing the skirts and held a hand out for those who reached for me, as if I might save them...
We were nearing the City Circle and I hadn't seen many of those I had waved to, how many I’d had graced smiles on, silently pleaded to help me behind a mask of wonder and pride and love... As we roll into the circle, I see my chance in a glint from the diamond chain that has slipped down Jet's arm and pooled loosely on his wrist.
I reach quickly for the length of chain, swinging it quickly so it wraps around both Jet's wrists. I laugh, amazed it had actually worked, and give a triumphant cry as I lift his captured arms into the air. He had me captured the whole time in that tiny ride, and all it took was a little light for me to catch him! The crowd went wild and there was lots of pointing and gales of laughter from tightly o'ed mouths.
To my surprise, Jet is laughing as well. He keeps his arms raised, acknowledging his imprisonment, even though he lifted me an inch off my feet on more than one occasion, bringing another roar of laughter. When the thin silver links broke just above my hand, I land as gracefully as I can and let out a huff of air as I slam against his chest and the chariot coming to a halt.
"If you just wanted to be close to me, why didn't you say so?" he murmured, bringing his arms down and trapping me, curiously still twisted in the bejeweled chain. He lifted me off my feet and held me close to him, knowing I was too tired to fight.
The music ends almost too perfectly and the man high above us began speaking. It's the President welcoming us, but the screens were on us. Each tribute has their last close up shots during the welcome, and I knew this. In large as life view, I have Jet tied up with my own leash, but free enough I'm held to him, my arms wrapped around his. As soon as I see us, I give a pleased and sleepy smile, resting my head on his arm. I had to admit, my feet felt a lot better.
Jet looks down and the expression on his face is so painful I almost cry. I've seen that look before and I shake my head. He doesn't want to focus on dying. He wants to go home, live, and have fun. Maybe find a girl like me and settle down. He gives me the look that a man expresses when he's made up his mind. A second later he bends down and kisses my forehead, the pale light catching the silver flecks in his curls and set them gleaming. His eyes are closed and I see the tears just before they fall on my face.
The public gesture is too much and I want to push him away, but when he sets me on my feet again, I turn to hold him. I wrap my sleeves around him and hold him up for once. I understand. He's saying sorry in the only way a boy with proper upbringing does. I leaned up, watching our image that has been on the screens. Good, they were all watching. "I forgive you," I whisper into his ear, kissing the bottom of his chin.
When we move again, he rests his hand on my shoulder and I hold the cart for stability as we roll around the circle for one last look. I wrap one arm around Jet's waist and rest my head on his chest, my hair floating out behind us in a bloody cape. I wanted to say something; anything to ease the pain of the moment between us, but between us there are no words.
We disappear from view as we pull into the Training Center, and for a moment, I'm glad to be out of view. Or... as out of view as a tribute ever is. After our altercation earlier, the prep teams and stylists were doing a much better job of keeping us away from each other. However, as an expert on facial features... silence speaks volumes. I was a tramp. I was a vixen. I was dangerous. I was now a target. Now was the time to make a break for it. "So... I got your message. Loud and clear. We're not working together."
Jet looked away and smiled a little. "It was such a nice parade, don't you think?" he said loudly.
I laughed on cue and took his arm. "Oh yes," I said slowly, winking at him. "Though, it's a pity it was over so soon. Honestly, I don't know why anyone bothers watching past District One. Unless they're really desperate to see a bunch of starving artists..."
Jet actually laughed at that, and it reached his eyes, and the crinkle was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. "Ooh, Nara, very witty. I'll have to remember that one in case Templeton brings it up." He offered his arm to me, shooting me a questioning nod to the elevators.
I chuckle and shake my head, taking his offered arm. "That's it, if I win the Hunger Games, I'm going to make my occupation a fool. I'll be the first victor to actually encourage a sense of humor!" It was a short walk to the tube that would take us to our living quarters, but while it lasted, I enjoyed the only game we played willingly.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favor