flight of the fallen ━━ the hunger games

𝗶𝗶𝗶. stylist

FLIGHT OF THE FALLEN
☀︎   Chapter Three

Waxing, plucking, stripping. Cleaning, exfoliating, moisturising...

On and on, until Sacha felt like a raw bird about to be cooked. She supposed she should've been used to it by now—it happened every time she returned to the Capitol—but it still made her grit her teeth to stop any complaints passing her lips. All of this just to be flaunted around the City Circle for the Tribute Parade, for everyone in Panem to contemplate her, for sponsors to pick their favourites, for tributes to understand their competition. For the beginning of life or death.

After she had been prepared, Sacha was finally allowed to meet her stylist. She expected the woman she'd seen numerous times before, not this fresh face.

In her early twenties, she had smooth brown skin, green eyes with a look of determination in them, and smidge of silver eyeliner. Her hazel hair was braided intricately to resemble a mockingjay pinned to her head.

It was ironic, actually: a symbol of rebellion on someone from the Capitol. But this woman didn't seem influenced by the Capitol's ways at all...Her appearance was refreshing. Normal, even.

"I'm Cleo, your new stylist," She reached out her hand and met Sacha's with a firm shake, "This is my first year but I believe it'll be a good one."

Sacha blinked in surprise. Her old stylist had always ordered her around, treated her like a pet of some sorts, not as an actual human being. Her old stylist was also almost always naked and covered in ugly neon feathers, so seeing the woman before her dressed in a simple silver t-shirt and black trousers was welcome.

"Why do you have Six?" Sacha asked. The new stylists usually got the districts with the smallest chance of winning—it used to be Twelve, for example.

"I asked for it. Well, my brother did, actually. He's a very big fan of symbolism and he thought it would be fitting for me to style Six whilst he styles Twelve."

That would've knocked Sacha out of her shoes—if she wasn't wearing only a plain white robe, of course.

She couldn't stop the gasp leaving her lips, "Your brother is Cinna?"

Amused by the girl's reaction, Cleo nodded, "Yes, he is. You've seen his designs, I presume. Iconic. But we can't let him have all the fame, so let me show you what I have planned."

The woman led Sacha into a conjoined room covered ceiling to floor in mirrors. In the centre held a plain black dress with a long trail. Sacha wondered if Cleo's plan was to steal her brother's idea and drench her in flames. But, no, she pressed a button on the sleeve and...

The dress transformed into an almost invisible garment, rippling and shimmering. It showed a multitude of scenes Sacha knew all too well: thick grain fields, tall trees with luscious leaves, boulders and shiny stones. They rushed sideways, like Sacha was stood on a train, watching through a window as the diverse nature surrounding the districts sped by.

"How..." Sacha stepped forward, gently taking a piece of the fabric in her hand. It had a soft, smooth texture, stretchy yet firm. "How is that even possible?"

Cleo grinned, the girl's disbelief clearly boosting her pride, "It came to me when I was looking out the window. And, you know, the Capitol only has one default view, the streets. So I flick through all the options. A forest, a field, a jungle...And it hits me. You have to see all of that and more when transporting cargo, don't you? So, I just used the same technology, weaved it into some lightweight fabric...Well, it was more complex than that but long story cut short, I'm a genius."