Tribute or Victor

Chapter 9

You wake up with a groan, stretching your arms above your head, and arching your back. Tonight was the first night that you had actually slept well ever since a week before your name got picked. You sat up, and your mind started wandering around to different questions, like if the capitol had some sort of system where they could track how much and how well you slept.

Once you stood up, and opened your closet door, your mind was shot back into the real world. There was a single outfit hanging on a velvet lined hanger, sitting in the middle of the closet. It was a red and grey jacket with a pair of matching pants, and black boots. Your training outfit.

A frown makes its way into your face, and you turn your head to the side, looking in the full length mirror that was attached to the door. You had forgotten that you hadn't taken your dress or makeup off before you went to bed, and now you were an absolute mess. The blue and black makeup around your eyes had been smudged and smeared all around your face, making you look slightly like a smurf, and your lipstick made you look like a vampire that had just eaten her nightly meal. But the worst part was your hair. It was the exact opposite of 'sticking out in every possible direction.' It was all tangled into one giant knot at the top of your head, and looked like it would have to be surgically removed from your scalp.

With a sigh, you walk over to the bathroom, and lock the door once your inside. Once you turn the water on, you strip down, and start working a brush through your matted hair. There were lots of winces and verbal 'ow's, but you were eventually able to run the brush through your hair without it getting caught on a tangle.

You step into the shower, turning the water up as high as your skin would allow, and maybe a little bit more. The hot water sent a shiver down your spine as it cascaded down your shoulders and back. Shampoo was dumped into your hands when you stuck them under a different faucet on the other side of the shower. You rubbed it into your scalp and sighed in pleasure.

You hadn't taken a shower since you had gotten there, other than your makeup crew hosing you down with ice-cold water, and you had only ever taken baths before that.

The time alone in the shower gave you time to think about everyone back home, and you couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing. You wondered about Trinity and your dad. Was he back to normal, and taking care of her? Were Newt and Sonya and Minho doing good? Were they worried about you going into the games, or could they care less?

All of these questions ran through your head, and you werent sure you wanted to know the answers to them.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, your skin was as red as a lobster, and you had to dry off at least three times before your clothes would actually fit on your body without sticking. You checked yourself in the mirror again, and you werent as inclined to cringe at your appearance. Though you could admit that grey and red was not your color. You threw your hair up into a ponytail, and with one last glance at the mirror, walked out of your room.

Time Skip to when (Y/n) and Peter go into the training room whatever you call it

You walked into the large room, Peter at your side, and you immediatly groaned in annoyance. Everything in the room was as hightech as possible, not that you expected anything less, but that meant it would be that much harder to learn to use any of the crap in the room, because you would have to figure out the technology first.

"This looks exciting," Peter says, actually looking interested in all of the weapons and gadgits that had spread across the room.

"I wish I could steal your enthusiasm," you mumble low enough so only he could hear as another tribute passed by. He laughed, bumping you with his shoulder as you walked inside.