They attack the hair all over my body first, until my skin is entirely clear of any body hair at all, leaving only the hair on my head and eyebrows that feel nonexistent. Sereia, a woman with silver skin and white hair with silver tips, and bright red eyes, plucks the last few stray hairs from my eyebrows with a pair of tweezers. Needless to say, I'm disgusted with the way the three members of my prep team look. After Sereia, there's another woman named Evrin, who seems to have chosen a green theme for her body, with flower patterns and green hair and eyes. The last member is a man named Locliel, who has pure white hair (even though he appears to be the youngest at around nineteen), deep blue eyes and wave designs all over him. I wonder if Newt is as disgusted as I am right now. Probably. Along with all the other twenty-two tributes. Since Minho told us to 'shut up and let them do the work', not a word of complaint has come from my mouth, no matter how tempted I am. Evrin finishes with my nails, which are now perfect pink ovals, and Locliel massages some white substance into my hair to make it shiny and smooth. My hair was removed from its bun the second I walked in, and the beautiful bronze ribbon now lies next to me on the table, close enough for me to reach out and grab it for support.
"Perfect!" Evrin squeals in her distorted Capitol accent. I nearly gag.
"Nearly done!" Locliel says, and removes his hands from my hair to help Evrin and Sereia rub me down with a sort of clear, funny smelling lotion.
"And.... done!" Sereia grins, showing perfect white teeth as the three of them take their hands off my body and squeal with excitement. Locliel and Evrin embrace, and I realise that the younger man and woman must be together, in some sense. I almost sigh. It's... nice, I suppose, for the Capitol people to find happiness in each other, even if that comes about by prettying me up for my death.
Right. Nice.
"Let's get Thomas!" Evrin sighs happily, and I sigh too, but not in happiness. I've been in the Remake Centre for four hours, and there's still more work to do with my stylist. Who I haven't even met yet. Oh well. I'll be eating lunch with Thomas soon, so at least that's something to do, I suppose.
I hear the door open and see a man walk in. Well, a man is hardly the right word. He seems more like a boy, only a few years older than Newt and me. He seems as if he could come from District Twelve, too, with dark hair and dark eyes. In his hair he wears some sort of wreath made out of green ivy. I don't question it, but for some reason it goes with his brown eyes. I shudder. This good-looking man is preparing me for slaughter. His eyes bore into mine, and I notice a sort of curiosity in them, as if he always wants to know more about everything, and as if he never knows enough. I study his eyes closely. He's good-looking, sure, but not as good-looking as Newt is. The thought of Newt brings a smile to my face, and I'm pretty sure Thomas notices. He flashes me a smirk and gestures to the ribbon beside me on the table.
"Is this your district token?" he asks. Yes, my guess was correct. He's the kind of person who always wants to know everything, but probably never thinks things through properly either. I nod my head at him. He takes the ribbon in his hands carefully and puts it in a pocket of his button-down black shirt. My only remaining piece of home, tucked away in the pocket of a Capitol man. I feel sick.
"I'll make sure this gets reviewed," Thomas says carefully. "Make sure you can take it into the Games."
"I don't see what harm a ribbon can do in the Games," I mutter, but he hears me and grins.
"You'd be surprised, y/n," he says, and holds his hand out for me to take. I ignore it. Newt's the only one who can hold my hand. Not that we do hold hands. But still. He's the only one who's allowed to. Thomas raises his eyebrows at me and gestures for me to follow him through a door into the sitting room. I pull on my pale white robe and follow him into the sitting room. I stifle a gasp as I enter. The room's even bigger than my train compartment. There are two couches in the centre of the room, a low table between them. The glass wall on the side of the room looks over the Capitol, and midday light shines through, making my now perfect skin even more visible. I sigh. I want to be at home, back in Twelve, with my dirty skin and face and hair and nails. My leather boots and comfortable clothes, coal dust everywhere. Not here, with the white robe, and my perfect body. Thomas presses a button on the table, and a steaming lunch rises from the table that has now split in half, revealing a second table underneath. I breathe in the aroma. Paper thin slices of chicken are laid out over a bed of leafy greens. Orange, lemon and lime segments are arranged in a repeating pattern around the outside of the dish to give the appearance of an opening flower. Onion and garlic are scattered on top of the greens. The whole meal is coated in a red sauce. In short, it looks delicious. For dessert, there's a circular chocolate cake coated in a caramel sauce. Shreds of chocolate are arranged around the outside in between chocolate and cream covered strawberries. My mouth waters as Thomas serves me slices of chicken and greens, and I start to cut the chicken into squares and practically shove them into my mouth. He does the same, but with Capitol-standard manners.
YOU ARE READING
The Tributes of Twelve | Newt x Reader
Fanfiction(y/n) (y/l/n). A girl from the Seam in District Twelve. She lives under the control of the Capitol with her father and younger brother Chuck. She has avoided the Hunger Games her entire life and has instead focused on putting food on her family's ta...
