My first fan-fic ever. I believe that instaneous love is absolutely ridiculous, so don't expect the story to get all gooey and mushy anytime soon. :D
I honestly tried to use some good vocab, but I admit, it is quite hard to find the right words. Anyways, hope you guys like it. I'm not sure if I should continue this fanfic, so reviews would be appreciated.
I feel formidable. Beautiful…maybe, but formidable? Definitely.
I see my face on the screen, gray eyes staring ahead, determined. The stylists whisper to each other, no doubt commenting on the costume that Cinna has designed. The dark material holding the dress together is aflame, artificial fire illuminating the chariot in which I stand. Hand in hand, Peeta and I stroll down the walkway, and I wish that this was what the Hunger Games was. Crowds, publicity, feasts. If only. I try not to think about the real Games, which involves killing and general violence. The Capitol seems to enjoy seeing children die, however.
The crowds on either side of the walkway are going crazy, as Peeta and I draw near the end of the tribute's parade, flowers rain down on my head. In a moment of pure confidence and bliss, I catch a rose in my teeth, barely flinching as the thorns scratch against my lips. The people are reaching out over the barriers that hold them back, desperate to touch the girl on fire.
There is another round of cheering as our chariot rolls to a stop. I spit out the rose and the exuberance that washes over me slowly dies down, leaving a slightly less hysterical sensation of joy.
The other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, obviously angry that District 12 has outdone them. District 1 is covered in glitter and all things shiny, but the expressions on the tributes' faces imply that there is nothing glittery about the way they plan to kill us. District 2 sports a pair of tributes wearing Roman-like garb. The girl scowls in her white chiffon dress, but the muscular boy just looks bored. He wears a golden helmet and matching armor. I remember seeing him lunge forward to volunteer at the reaping.
As President Snow begins to speak, my eyes meet the boy's icy gaze. There is undeniable arrogance and pride there, and I quickly look away and instead focus on prying my hand out of Peeta's tight grip. As Snow's rambles on about the history of Panem and the purpose of the Hunger Games, I keep my eyes straight ahead.
They stroll down the walkway, obviously looking for attention. Little show-offs. Figures, the year that I volunteer as tribute is the year that District 12 actually gets a good stylist. The girl catches a rose and a huge smile slowly materializes on her face.
Clove is getting quite worked up, glaring at the pair of them. I stand rigidly next to her, fighting the urge to send a scowl of my own towards District 12. I put on my mask of boredom, a look perfected after years of listening to girls drone on about my looks, my strength, and whatever else they admire. Usually they leave, disappointed, after a while.
The girl with the fire-dress looks around the ring of tributes, her smile gradually fading. As Snow starts talking, she makes the mistake of meeting my eyes. I suppress a snicker as her gaze drops.
When Snow's speech is over, I walk towards Haymitch and Effie, who both have a proud shine in their eyes. Cinna quickly extinguishes the last of the fire as the prep teams gush about our performance.
"Not bad, sweetheart." Haymitch adds, genuine pride hidden under the sarcastic remark. He claps me on the back, nearly pushing me to the ground.
"That was brilliant!" Effie bursts out. "Considering that you're from District 12, of course." She quickly adds, composing herself. But there is a huge grin on her face.
I feel eyes upon my back, and indeed, nearly all of the other tributes are examining Peeta and me as they are fussed over by their own prep teams. Once again, it is District 2's haughty expressions that capture my attention.
"Uh, Haymitch. What's the name of the tributes from District 2?" I ask. Haymitch turns towards me and scratches his chin.
"The names are Killer and Sorceress." He must have seen the look of horror that flashed over my face, because he snickers. "The boy is Cato, the girl is Clove."
I breathe a sigh of relief, it honestly wouldn't be hard to imagine them with ominous names like Killer or Sorceress. Clove is about the same size and build as I am, with dark hair and eyes. Cato is light-haired, tall, muscular, and -although I would never say it out loud- obviously attractive. I can imagine the girls from school flocking up to him, all aching for a chance to talk to him.
His expression is still bored, uninterested, as if there was nothing spectacular about our chariot or the people in it. I feel a wave of indignation wash over me, and there is this strange desire to see Cato smile. But no, apparently we weren't worth his interest, although he had been observing us. He was from District 2, for heaven's sake, one of the districts closest to the Capitol in location. Unfortunately, they are usually also closest to the sponsor's hearts. I wouldn't be surprised if sponsors were already lining up, more than happy to support Cato and Clove.
Peeta suddenly appears next to me, and his expression darkens as he follows my stare. "C'mon Katniss, we have to get back to our floor. According to Effie, we have a 'big big day tomorrow'."
"Well, you do! Tomorrow you start training." Effie interjects, herding us towards the elevators. She looks ridiculous in her tight bright yellow dress and six-inch heels. But as the elevator doors close, I barely notice. Tomorrow, we will see what skills the other tributes have, if any. And for some reason, I have a feeling that Cato is exactly what I was during the tribute parade…dangerously formidable.