Heaven is Falling (The Hunger Games x Male Reader)

Preparing The Chariots

I've been in the Remake Center for
more than three hours and I still haven't met my stylist. Apparently she has no interest in seeing me until my prep team have addressed some obvious problems. This has included
scrubbing down my body with a gritty foam that has removed not only dirt but at least three layers of skin and shaving what little facial hair I have.

The three step back and admire their work. "Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" says one, and they all laugh.

My skin feels sore and tingling and
intensely vulnerable. But I have kept my side of the bargain with
Haymitch, I force my lips up into a smile to show how grateful I am."Thank you, " I say kindly. "We don't have much cause to look nice in District Twelve."

This wins them over completely. "Of course, you don't, you poor thing !" they say in distress for me.

"But don't worry," they say. "By the time Portia is through with you, you're going to be bloody handsome!"
"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all the hair and filth, you're not horrible at all! Let's call Portia!"

They dart out of the room. It's hard to hate my prep team.They're such total idiots. And yet, in an odd way, I know they're sincerely trying to help me.

The door opens and a young woman who must be Portia enters. She isnt surgically altered like most of the stylists they interview on television but doesnt lack the capital look.

"Hello, (Y/N). I'm Portia, your stylist" she says in a very light capital acceny.
"Hello," I venture cautiously

"You're new, aren't you? I don't think I've seen you before,"I say. Most of the stylists are familiar, constants in the ever-changing pool of tributes. Some have been around my whole life.
"Yes, this is my first year in the Games," says Portia."So they gave you District Twelve," I say. Newcomers
generally end up with us, the least desirable district.

"Yes" she says without further
explanation. "Why don't you put on your robe and we'll have a chat."
Pulling on my robe, I follow her through a door into a sitting room.
Portia invites me to sit on one of the black couches and takes her place across from me.

She presses a button on the side of the table. The top splits and from
below rises a second tabletop that holds our lunch. Chicken and
chunks of oranges cooked in a creamy sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and onions, rolls shaped like flowers, and for dessert, a pudding the color of honey and two glasses of red wine.

What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?

"So,(Y/N), about your costume for the opening ceremonies.Me and my partner, Cinna who is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Katniss have decided to dress you in similar costumes," says Cinna. "As you know,it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district."

For the opening ceremonies, you're supposed to wearsomething that suggests your district's principal industry.

"So, I'll be in a coal miner outfit?" I ask, hoping it won't be anything indecent.

"Not exactly. You see, Cinna and I think that coal miner thing's very overdone. No one will remember you in that."

One year, ourtributes were stark naked and covered in black powder to represent coal dust. It's always dreadful and does nothing to win
favor with the crowd. Is that where she is going? I prepare myself for the worst.

"So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're going to focus on the coal," says Cinna.

So I'm m going to be naked and covered in black dust, I think.