Querencia | Finnick Odair

Chapter III

As soon as I exit the elevator doors my prep team surrounds me. "But...the celebration is tonight. That's still more than 10 hours away", I protest.

"Yes, yes, but until you are presentable it will take us forever", Venita exclaims, already tugging at my hair. "To get this shining and pretty... it will take at least 3 hours and your nails and your skin", she pretends fainting. I sigh and let them lead me to the prepping suite. To my delight, I get to bathe first. The water is pink and covered with foam. I strip out of my pyjamas, not worrying about my prep team. They have seen me naked so many times. As I let the hot water soothe my skin or whatever it is supposed to do, Clarize puts seven different shampoos and conditioners in my hair, then dries it slightly to put it in a braid. Maddox puts garlic bread on the side of the tub.

"You are my hero", I mumble. I love garlic bread. I ate it all the time before the games started. Now I can only take small bites. But I still enjoy it. After 3 hours and four changes of bathing additives, I stand in the middle of the room getting plastered with lotions. Then I get to have a break and have lunch.
This time I can actually eat the whole stew and some of the desert, but after two hours I am dragged back into the prep room.
My nails are done and my hair is now curled and half pinned up. The curls are shining now, which might be because they put a spray on it that makes them sparkle in different gold colours. Then they do my makeup. They use dark-brown, almost black eyeshadow and a hue of red that contrast my green eyes. They finish it off with a dramatic eyeliner that is not only running along my lashes but also a short distance around my upper lid. My lips are a dark shade of red and my face is contoured as well as blemish-free.

I am wondering how I am supposed to spend the last two and a half hours before the big victors' celebration.

Then, Silas, my male mentor comes in and I know. He is preparing me for the horror of watching my games, of facing the crowd who either thought I would die and be happy about it or cheered me on and celebrated that I became a killer.

I put on my robe and follow him into the lounge area.

"So. We need to work on your presentation. You have to be victorious and have to cover up your little stunt at the end of the games. The real interview is tomorrow, they will ask you about it. So what will you say?"

Just the thought of the arena, the killing made me feel cold again.

"I don't know. That I just believed that he fought bravely?", I answer, shrugging.

"No. You have to be the person they want you to be. You didn't want him to have the satisfaction of holding a weapon, seeming strong even in death, because you are stronger. Then a smirk, a hair flip and we are good. If you play it off as mercy, as a kind act, it's rebellious. And we can't have that. Okay?"

I nod. I haven't even thought about the fact that it could seem rebellious but turning away from the hovercraft to make a contestant look somewhat peaceful... I can see where Silas is coming from.

"Now. When they rewatch the games it is going to be long and horrible. They will play all death scenes, all fights and all wounds. You can't look away. Smirk, smile and be touched when they show you getting sponsor gifts. This is still a game and you have to become its master."

For about an hour I get a row of advice. We probe how to sit, to smirk and how to look genuinely grateful, which is harder than I thought.

An hour before the event starts, my prep team ushers me back into their little kingdom and they pull out my dress. I almost stumble back. It is a pure, slightly sparkling white.

"I...I can't. Don't make me wear it", I say, my voice wavering as I brace myself against a wall. All three of them look at me confused. "It's white. I can't...", I stumble over the words.

"Snow chose it personally for you. It is a great honour to wear it", Venita explains seemingly excited. I just gape at that awful piece of clothing, knowing I won't get around it.

Keaton helps me get into the dress. It has a very low back. The fabric barely covers the upper part of my bottom. There are cut-outs covered with lace, giving me a lot of cleavage and showing my hips. And to top it all off it has a long leg slit. It's like it was designed to humiliate me.
The heels are something else entirely. They are a dark shade of red matching my lipstick and contrasting my dress.

They make some last adjustments and then decide that I am presentable.

The car ride is short and silent, my mentors staring at me -more my dress- shortly, before going through the things Silas told me once again. Then the conversation stops.

The underneath of the stage is dark, and I hate it. I hate the dark, the cold and white. And now I have it all, because apparently nobody thought that the fifteen minutes a victor had to wait here weren't worth the cost of heating the small room.

An Avox helps me onto the platform after I hear the cheers for my team. As the platform moves I feel like I am going into the games once again and after I remember Silas words, I know that I am.

So I put on a victorious smile, put my hand on my hip and let the bright light blind me.