The Rebel Victor | I [THG]

Chapter Seven | May the 73rd Annual Hunger Games Begin

The next room hadn't been nearly as intimidating. Instead of a metal bed, there was a dress that hung on a mannequin. Ciruss explained the theme that he and Arkons stylist went with-- Pearls of Panem. Along with fish, pearls were also a really popular item from Four over the past two years. So the dress that had been made for Quinn stopped just above her knees, it looked like it was just simple black leather--the same material that was usually used for District Twelve. But actually, black pearls covered it and the light shimmered off of it. Then to go with it were black heels that Quinn was positive she couldn't ever learn to walk in. Then there was a table of sorts with an assortment of makeup and jewelry on it.

First Quinn had been put in the outfit and Ciruss told her to practice walking--but standing was about as much as she would try. So she convinced Ciruss to let her carry the shoes and put them on before she got into the chariot. Reluctantly Ciruss agreed finally when it was obvious that she wasn't going to change her mind.

After that was over with, they fishtailed her hair, and then Kellun went to work making her nails match Districts Four theme. At the same time, Breea worked on her face more--this time there wasn't any scrubbing, it was just getting globs of makeup put on her face.

Then Ciruss went with her to the elevators and then down a hallway to the chariots. While they walked, Ciruss remained quiet. But he would occasionally remind her to be friendly on the chariot, he told her to smile, wave, and smile some more--too much smiling was better than too little. Quinn considered asking him about his own experience with the chariots, but she decided that he was already telling her by giving her the advice.

Quinn was one of the last tributes to arrive, Arkon was already there, but so was the boy from District One--Max.

"Shouldn't you be at your chariot?" Ciruss asked, looking at Max.

"Just being friendly," he replied, "It was nice to meet you Arkon, and..." he paused as his eyes landed on Quinn. "Gwenn?"

"Quinn." she corrected.

A small smile spred across his lips, "I wish you were my stylist, Mr. Hayeden...you look stunning Quinn." he said in a long drawled out sigh before he offered Quinn another smile before turning and walking away.

"Don't trust him." Ciruss sighed as he stepped in front of Quinn and looked down at her. "He's one of the best in training back in One...but he's not the sort of ally you want."

"But shouldn't we want an ally that could help us in the arena if some other tribute was trying to kill us?" Arkon asked.

"Hypothetically, yes. But you don't want someone who will get rid of you as soon as they don't need you." Ciruss explained.

"Did you have allies like that?" Quinn asked, without thinking. But then a thought came to mind that he could have been that ally.

But Ciruss shook his head, "No, but my friend and mentor was that tribute." he sighed, "He won his games...you don't want that sort as an ally."

"What sort do we want?" Arkon asked, this was the first bit of advice either of them had really gotten. Neither Finnick or Mags gave them much.

Ciruss sighed and looked around, "Districts...Three, Eight, Six, and maybe even Twelve. You don't want to be in the Career Pack." he said, his voice softening up and becoming quieter as a few peacekeepers began to make sure all the tributes were accounted for. "That would only be keeping around more threats."

"But if we are allies with lower districts won't they want to get rid of us?"

He shook his head, "They'd want you as an ally." Ciruss replied, "But do not make friends in the arena." he said a bit more sternly than he had been.

"Tributes, mount up, tributes mount up..." The automatic voice announced. Then with that a woman hurried over and quickly began to tussle Arkons hair, and quickly began looking over the black suit that matched Quinns outfit.

Ciruss sighed and motioned to Quinn's shoes that were still in her hands. She frowned and mumbled under her breath as she dropped them on the ground and then went to work with trying to slide them onto her feet before she struggled to step up onto the chariot.

"What if I fall?" Quinn asked quickly, looking down at Ciruss.

"You won't fall." He assured her, but she wasn't convinced. Her grip on the chariot tightened out of fear and the sudden realization that everyone would be watching her. Everyone she knew in Four would be watching her closely. "Remember, smile, wave, and smile some more." Ciruss reminded her as Arkons stylist stood beside him.

After a moment, the chariots all began their course towards the stage where President Snow always spoke from. As they followed behind District Three into the lights, Quinn caught a glance of Arkons clothes. The black pearls that were split shimmered, they were beautiful. But Quinn's mind quickly snapped back to the parade. Her hands gripped the chariot tightly, so tightly that Kellun was probably dreading her nails getting damaged.

On both sides of them there were colorful crowds waving and cheering for them. Quinn couldn't help but wonder how many of them were already placing bets on tributes. That thought kept her from smiling at all and even daring to let go of the chariot to wave with one hand. Arkon glanced down at her for a moment, but quickly took his attention back and went back to smiling and waving. But she couldn't make herself do either of those things. Some of these people probably already wanted her dead-- and they didn't care about her. They only cared that she was a tribute.

Then as the chariot began its circle, she caught a glimpse of the other outfits for the other districts. A second thought dawned on her. One of them was the Victor of the seventy-third games.