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❝ oh would you let me see ❞
❝ beneath your beautiful tonight. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
UPON ARRIVING AT THE CAPITOL, Peeta and I are met with our respective stylists. Nevertheless, we go through painful procedures right before.
I am stripped naked, the cold metal of a silver table hitting my skin. What feels like dozen of Capitol stylists analyse every inch of my body, secretively whispering between themselves where to start, what to do. I had never felt so out of place. I collect their distinct names, their conversations lacking any sort of discretion. Octavia, Flavius and Venia.
Instantaneously, they attack my body, getting rid of any hair, extra skin or imperfection I carried with me. They focus on every single detail, and I feel even more denuded than before. I screw my eyes shut as I feel the spread of a hot substance on my skin, pulling my hands into a tight fist, readying myself for the sudden surge of pain.
RI-IP !
I gasp when the final swathe of my leg hair is uprooted in a painful jerk. Yet, I somehow manage to keep my mouth shut, the suffering bubbling in my chest.
"There's nothing we hate more than a whiner! Octavia, grease her down!" Flavius orders, applying a coat of purple lipstick to his mouth at the same time.
Venia and Octavia rub me down with a lotion that soothes my body, and my lips quirk up at the sensation, taking away the stings tingling my skin. The process then starts all over again, following a torturous loop.
After what feels like an eternity, they've stopped torturing me with their burning wax and other utensils. I frown, not sure how my plucked eyebrows were going to help me win the Hunger Games.
"Oh darling, you look beautiful now!" one of them exclaims, staring at me, widely smiling. I'm not sure how my lack of body hair seems to emphasise me physically.
"Thank you. We don't have much cause to look nice in 12." I mutter, followed by a subtle grin, inching to win their appreciation, and show that I was still grateful for their effort, despite their obnoxious personalities that reflected the ignorance of the Capitol.
I get the exact reaction I was expecting, full of "Aw"s and "Oh"s, while they touch my hair, as if I was an animal on display, my state winning them over completely.
"Of course, you don't, you poor darling!" Octavia agrees clasping her hands together, in distress for my situation.
"But don't worry," says Venia. "By the time Cinna is through with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous!"
