𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝟎𝟒. 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟

— 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.