[Tributes] From The Last To The First

[Rachel Barbara Berry [Away]]

At long last, the train had finally arrived at the Capitol. Being taken away to the side by her stylist, Rachel gradually felt her stomach tightening feeling like she was going to pass out from nerves. Knowing that if she didn't pass out in the train, that she would do so during the actual Welcoming Ceremony itself, and right when the cameras were on her and Sebastian.

Rachel was feeling pretty nervous, at what her dress could be, seeing as how they were based on whatever their District was. Now, it usually didn't bother Rachel, but after hearing that one year, the Tributes from District 12 were naked, and only had coal dust covering them. SHe didn't want anything like that to happen. But, fortunately, it didn't. What she was given was a silk, golden dress, that reflected the light. Well, this definitely put her mind at ease. When having her stylist put it on after her body was stripped of any hair that wasn't on her head and her eyebrows were plucked so much, Rachel did feel like this was definitely for her district, what with how nice the fabric was.

After the dress was put on, Rachel quickly looks in the mirror, twirling as she smiles at her reflection. For once in her life, Rachel actually feels pretty...Beautiful, really. Her hair was styled perfectly, and her make up was done in a way that she almost didn't recognize herself. Rachel smiles at her stylist before wrapping her arms around him, which, luckily, he returns. Thankfully, he wasn't one of those snobby stylist like she'd expected to get. Rachel steppa out of the train, and was led to the carriage that she and Sebastian were going to be in. Stroking the horse's nose, Rachel looks behind her, trying to see if any of the other tributes were ready yet.

---

WORDS:

[/b] 311
MUSE:[/B] I FEEL PRETTY[/B][/SIZE][/FONT][/URL]
TAGS:[/B]
NOTES:[/B][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[Rory Conrí Flanagan]

The train screeched to a halt, and for the first time since he had gotten on it, he actually felt like he was going to throw up. He tried to keep his face devoid of anything that might mark him out as weak. He couldn’t afford to be picked off to early. Like everyone else here, he was determined to win this thing. Once he had gotten off the train, he had barely had five minutes to himself, before he was dragged away by his prep team. Now he was feeling really nervous. He didn’t know what to expect from this. He hadn’t really thought about it until this moment. He hadn’t even worried about what they would force him to wear. He normally wouldn’t off cared, but he couldn’t help but think of the tributes a few years back, that had been naked and covered with coal dust. He really didn’t want that to happen.

He had nothing to worry about though. After his initial prep team had plucked his eyebrows, because, in their words, ‘They are horrible, bushy and look very untidy.’ He hadn’t said anything to this. He had never really worried about looking his best. Soon enough they were gone, and his stylist came in. A youngish looking man, who, apart from the bright orange hair, and the green tattoos around his eyes, looked almost, normal. He said very little, and after he had said what he had wanted to, had given Rory his outfit. He had obviously gone with the idea of mixing coal and flames together, because the outfit was a yellow shirt, with black stripes running down the side, with a black waistcoat, that had orange and yellow stripes running over it. The trouser’s were just a pair of plain black suit trousers. He looked at himself in the mirror and was left breathless. He could hardly believe the smart dressed boy facing him was the same one that had left district Twelve. He turned the man and said, Thank you. It’s amazing. The man had smiled at him, and just nodded, which Rory took to mean, you’re welcome. He was then directed to where the carriages were, and was left on his own. After a while, he relished that he wasn’t on his own. He turned around to spot the female tribute from District One also here. He didn’t feel like leaving his carriage, so instead just put his hand up, to mean, “Hey there”

Words: 413
Muse: Taylor Swift Feat The Civil Wars: Safe and Sound
Tagged: Fellow Tributes
Notes: None

[Rachel Barbara Berry [Away]]

Rachel smiles at the horse, continuing to stroke it's nose. It really was a thing of beauty. Rachel had only really seen photos of horses before, and Rachel had always thought that they were beautiful, and she never thought that she would see one in person before. Noticing a pouch one the horse that she was stroking's saddle, she looked inside it, reaching in and finding some sugar cubes. She gave one to the horse, still stroking it's nose before running her hand through it's mane.

Hearing someone leave the train, Rachel turned around expectantly, hoping for Sebastian, but it turned out to be one of the other Tributes. Guessing from his outfit, Rachel assumes him to be from District 12. Well, their costumes were certainly a lot better than previous years. Seeing him waving, Rachel raises her hand waving back. Looking around, she notices that no one else was still there, so Rachel brushes her dress down and makes her way over to him "Hey"

[/b]. She smiles softly. "So, you're from District 12, right?"[/b]

---

WORDS:[/b] 175
MUSE:[/B] I FEEL PRETTY[/B][/SIZE][/FONT][/URL]
TAGS:[/B] TRIBUTES!
NOTES:[/B] Hope it's okay~[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[Kurt Edward Hummel [Away]]

Slowly opening his eyes, and pushing himself up from the bed, as soon as the train stopped, Kurt briefly felt himself dying a little more inside, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it as a small group of people from the Capitol grabbed him from his bed, and dragged him to the Remake Centre. It was good that they were practically dragging him there because if he had been given the will to walk by himself, he would either be stumbling all over the shop, crashing into everything on the way there, or he would turn to go back to his bed and block everything out. He felt incredibly groggy at the moment. Maybe running off into his room after leaving Blaine, and after eating so much that he thought he was going to burst, and just curling up in ball under his sheets and almost sobbing his eyes out, and nearly to sleep wasn't such a good idea. Well...The nearly sobbing out his eyes thing was probably something that was unavoidable. But he couldn't deny that he felt slightly better for not bottling it up. He had been crying before Blaine had came in, but it wasn't a full on sob fit. Though, the feeling of relief after getting all those emotions out wasn't long lived, only lasting a minute a most, before reality set back in, and heaviness just filled him again.

His prep team leads him into a room, and waste no time stripping him down, making him part with his mother's old locket, some how managing to get it out of his borderline grip, and immediately started to tear and pluck any body hair from him, complaining about how hairy he was. Well...Kurt had never even thought he even had that much hair, and actually thinking about it, he really wasn't. So, that, along with the prep team's annoying accents did nothing to help his mood in any way. They then brought out some pastes that Kurt wasn't even sure was safe to be put on his skin and scrub him down, his skin feeling incredibly sore, and despite the feeling of grogginess was now gone, Kurt was almost certain that if he took any steps forward that it would be almost impossible for him to walk without feeling uncomfortable or nearly falling over. One of the women with luminous pink hair, and ridiculous shaped eyebrows from his prep team seemed to notice this, and grabbed his hand to lead him over to have his make up done, Kurt keeping his grip tight on the robe he was given before one of the other prep team members, or the mad pink haired woman tore it from his body. After a few steps, and a few moments of the pink haired woman's fingers feeling around his hand, probably searching for any imperfections, she lets out a gasp, and grabs both of his hands, the robe falling open slightly. Kurt was going to close it over again, but her grip was extremely tight, making it hard for him to even move his fingers around. The woman then carefully brought her fingers up to his, still holding onto both his hands tightly and prodding each tip of his fingers, tutting and then muttering something about how that was always a problem with the District Eight tributes, before nodding that the other prep team members, and they did the same with his hands and just prod them, before sighing. Then, all three of them dragged him to where he was before, and Pink Haired Woman starts covering his hands in paste (Kurt wasn't sure if it was the same one or not) and started scrubbing vigorously at his hands, particularly his fingers, the other two prep team members doing the same to his other hand. After a few minutes had passed, the paste was gone, and they all felt his hands and fingers again letting out a sigh of relief, almost beaming up at him. If, Kurt could feel them, he would have raised an eyebrow at them, but his brow was still numb from all the plucking, wondering why the hell they looked so damn happy. Then he knew why. After feeling his fingers to see what they were curious about, Kurt notices that the tips were smooth, and completely free from any of the callouses that he used to have, and thus, making the feeling that he wasn't going to make it back home even more true, now only having one more part from home with him. Kurt just hopes that it wasn't going to be taken away from him.

Yet again, before he could dwell on his feelings at all, his prep team were dragging him to another part of the room, pushing him down into a chair and started applying make up on him. Though he wasn't really speaking, or paying attention to them, Kurt did hear them complain about how his stylist and mentor apparently said that any surgery wasn't to happen to him, and that it was so hard to make do with just make up. Kurt was about to make a remark about how hard their lives must be, that they can't make him seem unhuman and that it made his certain death seem so trivial in return, but he refrained, remembering that he wasn't to complain to them at all, and it just wouldn't do him any favours in the long run. So, biting the inside of his mouth, Kurt manages to stop himself from saying anything he'd regret. After they'd finished, one of the other woman, a woman with pale pink skin and pale seagreen hair, tucked her hand under his chin and forced him to look forwards, smiling at him and congratulating him for not complaining once during the whole time he'd been in the Remake Centre. Which, made Kurt try to figure out just how long he was there, shocked to discover that he was in there for just over three hours. Kurt was then told that apart from his hair, he was almost ready to meet his stylist, which was a load off of his chest. Good. Then these complete, vain idiots would leave him alone. His hair was currently being attacked by hot air, brushes, and spray, taking just over a little more than half an hour. Leading him off the seat and into the centre of the room, the only male from the prep team tore the robe of him and tossed it over a chair, saying that he wasn't to put it back on until he got permission from his stylist to do so.


Hearing the door opening, Kurt was half expecting someone even more flamboyant and crazy to step through, but the woman that stepped through the doors actually seemed to look pretty normal. Well. For the Capitol. Her hair was a ridiculous shade of magenta, and her eyebrows were incredibly arched, but her tattoos were subtle. Huh..Maybe his outfit wasn't going to look too bad after all. The girl walked around him, looking at every part of his body, nodding slowly, and muttering to herself every now and then, which, really, made Kurt feel a little self concious. She then smiled softly, and introduced herself, allowing him to put his robe back on as she led him to the side room for something to eat or drink. Marta, as her name was, apparently took a lot of time in designing her outfit, claiming that apparently it fit perfectly for District Eight. Oh god, no. This wasn't going to end well. Kurt was certain that he would either be stuck dressed as a thimble or something like that or he would pretty not be wearing any form of clothing and would just have an assortment of fabrics taped onto his body. Great. Just great. Marta then excused herself to get his outfit for the Ceremony, and instantly after being left alone, Kurt felt nerves swirl inside of him, making it hard to drink the hot drink that Marta handed him. It was the first time he'd actually been alone to think ever since arriving at the Capitol. He was slightly panicking about what the hell he would be wearing, but one thing was standing out more than anything else, and it was the conversation he and Blaine had about the Capitol. He was just...expecting a member of the Capitol, accompanied by a Peacekeeper to drag him away to become an Avox along with Blaine, if they hadn't already killed him. Oh god, why the hell was he thinking about this? It certainly wasn't helping his nerves in away.

Another few minutes, that seemed more like an eternity, had passed, and Marta came back, causing Kurt to jump, and drop his mug, the thoughts of being dragged off by a Peacekeeper still fresh in his mind, and was expecting one the white-clad soldiers to be following her, but seeing that Marta had only brought a box that was presumably holding his outfit, Kurt felt relief washing over him. Good. He was safe for now, at least. He opens his mouth, about to apologize for dropping the cup before Marta waves him off, placing the box on the table, and opening it, revealing his outfit. Kurt had to admit it. He was shocked to see that it was a lot more...normal than he expected. It was still very typical of the Capitol, but it was still nice. Marta then took it out, so that he would get a better view of it. Kurt leans forward, squinting his eyes a little, finally getting a little more feeling in his brow, he then pushes himself from the couch, and walks forward. Tilting his head a little at the items of clothing, Kurt slowly runs his hand over it, taking in every small detail of it, just in stunned silence, knowing that he would never be able to make anything like that. Marta's voice brings him back, and she tells him that the suit, bowtie, shirt, and had were all made from different fabrics woven together. So, that was the relation to his District then. Thank god... He didn't want this to be like the pain that District 12 usually went through. He would probably die if that happened.

Marta helps him get the outfit on, smoothing out any creases of it, fixing his hair a little, and blending in the make up a little more, before she lets out a small sigh of happiness. She then goes into a box, taking out a rather fancy hat before placing it on Kurt's head. Which got him thinking. The prep team members probably knew what Marta was putting him in...So why the hell had they styled his hair so much if it wasn't going to be seen because of that damn hat!? God..They really were airheads. Marta then looked at Kurt, and gave him back the locket that was taken away during his time in the Remake Centre. Kurt wasn't exactly doubting that he was going to get it back, assuming that he was going to get it back whenever he was being put in the arena, but it was really amazing that Marta had let him wear it tonight. Before putting it on for him, Marta told him that she guessed it probably had some deep sentimental value to him, knowing that he was reluctant to part with it. Stunned in silence, Kurt holds the locket in his hands for a few moments, just looking at it, before he turns his attention back to Marta. He then walks over to her, and a little worried that it might be a bit much, pulls her into a hug, smiling when she returns it. After breaking away, Marta holds onto his wrist and leads him over to the mirror.

If it wasn't for the person in the reflection mimicking everything he did exactly as he did it, Kurt would have just thought that Marta had led him to a doorway with someone who was Marta's double, with some strange man. Because the person he saw in front of him definitely wasn't the same boy that had left District Eight that morning. He looked too...old for his liking, but he didn't look any older than the Tributes were supposed to be. The colours of his outfit complimented him almost perfectly, the make up, though harsh, did the same. The hat didn't obscure the sight of the perfectly styled chestnut hair on top of his head, and it was placed to the side. As...breathtaking as he looked, Kurt wasn't sure if he liked it. He didn't feel like himself at all, and just felt like some product of the Capitols. Though, he supposed that he couldn't complain much. The clothes were nice enough, and he probably would wear them again. But, the make up, he didn't really want that. Well...He'd probably only have to wear such drastic make up on the day of his interview, so that was good. He turns around to Marta, and smiles softly at her. "It's...great. Thank you"

[/b]. She says nothing, just shaking her head as she smiles, before leading him outside.

Looking around, Kurt was pretty shocked that there weren't many Tributes there. Either, they had some how managed to take even longer than he was and it took just under four hours for him, or they were inside the train still, and just waiting for the right moment to all come out. Kurt follows the path of carriages down, counting them internally as he went, finally getting to District Eight. Pushing himself up onto the edge of the carriage, Kurt looks around and sees that so far, only the male District Twelve tribute was there, and the female District One Tribute. He was honestly shocked that the female was hear so early. Kurt had thought that Districts One, Two, and Four would take longer, what with them automatically being the favourites. She was currently stroking and feeding the horse, which didn't really shock Kurt. Getting a little bored Kurt then turned his attention to the male tribute, who was just at his carriage, before he turns around and brings his hand up, as if to say "Hello". Raising an eyebrow slightly, Kurt does the same, before feeling the female Tribute knocking against it, and walking over to the male Tribute. Oh god...Was the Careers starting trouble even earlier. "Hey. So, you're from District Twelve, right?"[/b][/i]. Well, she certainly seemed nice enough, a bit unusual for the Careers. Though, Kurt wasn't about to let his guard down, in case it might have been some kind of trap, or something. It wouldn't shock him if one of the Careers did that to the other Tributes this year. Maybe that was their tactic? But really Kurt didn't know. He wasn't one of them, and he wasn't about to join them now, was he?

---

WORDS:[/b] 2509. ||0_o
MUSE:[/b] NONE
TAGS:[/b] TRIBUTES!
NOTES:[/b] Er....I got carried away xD Sorry about that.[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[Blaine Everett Anderson]

Blaine wasn't too sure what happened in the morning. He woke up, obviously, as always, though feeling the train stop, his stomach just lurched. They were finally here, in the Capitol. It was.. probably the first time that Blaine didn't feel quite so chipper. Glancing at the clock, he saw he'd woken up an hour or so before his prep team were going to arrive, he snuggled back under the duvet, and just cried. Blaine felt weak. He was weak. Crying when tributes from the other Districts, should they be awake, could hear him? It wasn't exactly the right way to go about showing strength, was it? Blaine didn't particularly care. He missed home, his siblings, his District. Everything he'd left behind. He knew when he'd volunteered to take Lyssa's brother's place, things would be hard, but he'd never anticipated just how difficult. Granted, life on the train was great, as far as his standards went. Plenty of food, comfortable bedding, fashionable clothes.. but it was all too perfect. After practically sobbing his eyes out, then making sure he looked presentable, Blaine took a few deep breaths, just waiting for his prep team to come and drag him away to get ready. It was only a matter of minutes before they came into his room, all brightly coloured and smiles everywhere, which Blaine could only return weakly for once.

Once he was in the Remake Centre, Blaine just stood and let them do what they needed to do, which to be honest, he wasn't really listening to. Or at least, trying not to. They were pretty loud people. Eventually, he just gave up, watching them with admittedly curious hazel eyes, listening intently and trying not to panic too much when they said at him, not to him, they were going to remove the hair from his body. Now.. for a boy his age.. Blaine had probably reached the stage of puberty of someone a little older, and well.. he had enough hair to know that when they did this, it was going to hurt like a bitch. He had to bite down on his bottom lip extremely hard to stop from yelping, once they'd removed his robe - which, just for the record, made him feel extremely self conscious - and started the hair removal process. Blaine was just so glad it was over in only a few minutes, because of the three people working on him at the same time. Of course, he didn't really understand why they removed hair from some places. Blaine wasn't exactly going to go parading round in his underwear, was he? However, he didn't complain. Blaine never really complained. Where did it get him? Nowhere positive.

After that, they got to trimming his eyebrows, which, to be honest, Blaine could actually understand. They were particularly triangular, and pretty.. bushy. But now? They still resembled triangles, sure, but hey, at least they were neat. His prep team made various comments about them, referring to them as caterpillars, similar furry creatures, but really, Blaine didn't care. They were looking after him, after all. Making him look his best. Blaine didn't really get the point of looking as gorgeous as he could for the other Districts, and for the Capitol. This wasn't a beauty contest. It was who was the strongest, who could kill the most, survive. Not who looked pretty in pink. But, he couldn't share his opinion. He just had to suffer in silence, like the rest of the tributes. Which, really, he was happy to do so. It was what he'd been doing for sixteen years. After his prep team were done with his eyebrows, they moved to his hair, which at the moment, was still freshly wild from the fact he'd been in bed. They soon made quick work of it, however. Blaine frowned a little in confusion as they used some kind of gel on his curls, taming them quicker than he'd expected, slicking them smoothly down and styling it practically perfectly. At least, Blaine reckoned this was what they were doing, he couldn't see his reflection anywhere. He didn't think he was supposed to, not until they'd finished making him amazing. After that, it was make up time. Blaine didn't really get why he had to wear make up - he was a guy, after all - but he didn't utter a word as they got to powdering his face and various other things, hearing them talk about skin tones and contrasting colours and other terms he didn't really understand. When his prep team were done, he was turned over into the hands of his stylist.

Blaine wasn't surprised to see she wasn't that different from his prep team, almost neon blue hair and vibrant tattoos over her pale skin, though there was a gleam in her eye that told him she was a little different, saner, if you will. He soon learned her name to be Nachele, typically something Capitol-y, and Blaine obeyed as she asked him to drop his robe. Once it was gone, and he was standing naked in the middle of the room, Nachele walked a circle around him, murmuring things to herself and pretty much just observing him, which Blaine thought was probably a bit perverted, considering his age, but it was her job, so he bit back his words again, like he'd been doing for the whole day. After deeming him acceptable, she excused herself from the room, telling him she was just going to get his outfit. Blaine nodded a little with a smile, waiting patiently for her to return. He wondered what he'd be dressed up in. Being from District Seven, it was probably going to be something to do with lumberjacks, and while he was pretty sure he could suit the whole lumberjack outfit, Blaine doubted it would match his hair and make up. Which left him a little puzzled, just wondering what on earth Nachele could have made for him. So long as he didn't look like a total idiot, he'd be fine. When she returned, she carried a box with her, which she held carefully in her pale, slender hands, almost as if it was a fragile vase. Blaine waited in anticipation as she opened it, surprised to see a simple tuxedo. He waited for some kind of catch from Nachele, but all she did was tell him to put it on, so, naturally, he did. It was a slight silver-grey, and it fit his body shape perfectly. Smoothing his hands over the creases, he turned back to her upon hearing a cough in her throat, smiling a little at the bowtie she dangled between her fingers. It was patterned like the lumberjack checks, and Blaine just thanked god that this was how Nachele had chosen to show off his District. Quickly adding that to his outfit, Blaine reckoned he must look pretty dapper to some extent now, though he still couldn't see his reflection.

Nachele chose this moment to lead him over to a mirror, a gentle smile upon her lips as she took his hand carefully, pulling him over to the corner of the room, which Blaine had failed to notice before. At first, he was pretty sure the boy in the mirror wasn't him. At all. He looked.. so different. So.. so Capitol like. So dapper. He was kitted out like a proper gentleman, hair so tamed, suit so smart. Blaine promptly decided that, sure, while he looked.. handsome, admittedly, the best he felt he'd looked in forever, it wasn't him. He liked being out of shape. He preferred comfort over fashion, and while this was a bit of both, it was still out to impress instead of keeping Blaine comfortable. Biting his bottom lip a little, Blaine ran his hands over the creases that were now revealed to him, before turning to Nachele with a smile. Gently bringing her into a hug, he whispered a few kind words, before letting her point him outside.

The first thing he saw, while hopping down a few steps, were horses and carriages. Blaine had seen only horses before - they helped carry lumber around - but it wasn't like a carriage was a foreign object to him. Frowning a little to himself, he tried to gauge both where District Seven were supposed to be, and if Lyssa was already there. Deciding she wasn't, Blaine took a step down to ground level, slowly making his way round the carriages in an effort to find his own. Not a lot of tributes were there already - Blaine only nodded a little in the direction of the people he passed. Nearing closer to his own carriage, however, he caught sight of Kurt. Now.. things were rocky between them, but Blaine was slowly starting to realize that happinness, though a good mask, wasn't going to get him anywhere. However, being a total jerk wasn't, either. Smiling softly out of the corner of his lips, he gave a polite nod as he walked past Kurt, taking a moment to drink in his outfit. Blaine wasn't here to get attached, no, or find himself a boyfriend, because really, one of them if not both were going to die. But, swinging that way, Blaine couldn't help but notice that Kurt looked.. well.. pretty good. Quickly deciding that those thoughts shouldn't even begin to cross his mind, Blaine shook his head a little, cooing softly to one of the horses belonging to his own carriage as he drew closer. Bringing one of his hands up, he stroked over its nose, running his fingers through the horse's mane. At least he had something to remind him of home.

---

WORDS :

[/color] Idk. (:
TAGGED :[/color] Tributes!
MUSE :[/color] WE NEVER CHANGE
NOTES :[/color] Blaine finally getting depressed. Woop.

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Kurt Edward Hummel [Away]]

Even though he's been out of the Remake Centre for a while now, Kurt's skin was still tingling a hell of a lot, and it was still hurting. The really only thing that was different was that now he had more feeling in his eyebrows and could move them properly. It still hurt whenever he moved them, but hey. At least he could now. All of this was just...irritating to Kurt. Yeah, he understood that was important to look good -- he was the same in District Eight, and usually wore the best clothes he could afford -- but all this waxing, and plucking..It was just far too much. Not to mention that the make up was beyond ridiculous. Turning into someone who was from the Capitol in appearance? Yeah, not fun. Kurt just counted himself lucky that he wasn't getting any surgery. Who the hell knows what his prep team would have done to him if that were the case?

Hearing someone else coming, Kurt looked in their direction, trying to figure out who they were. Well. They were male, that was for sure. As they got closer to Kurt, his face fell a little when noticing that it was Blaine, and immediately, Kurt brought on of his hands up to rub at his face, trying to remove the ridiculous amounts he had on, but failed. Looking down at his hands, Kurt swore under his breath when noticing that it hadn't budged a bit. Brilliant. Now he was going to be seen looking like some madman from the Capitol. The conversation he and Blaine had on the train was still clear in his mind. Things weren't that good between them. Hopefully though, things weren't irreversible. Pushing himself actually onto the carriage instead of just sitting on the edge of it, Kurt did realize that Blaine actually did look really good in what he was wearing; he seemed to have been lucky and got a fairly normal stylist. Though, Blaine had avoided being attacked by make-up. Wait..Why the hell was Kurt thinking about how good Blaine looked? This wasn't the place to be looking at any boys unless it was to see if they were going to be a threat or not...Well, at least Blaine's arms weren't on display. That wouldn't have been good. Noticing Blaine smiling a little and nod at him, Kurt was a little shocked. He was half expecting to either be glared at, or have Blaine walk right past him without giving a second thought. Smiling weakly back, Kurt brought one hand up, and gave Blaine a small wave. Thank god the things he said last time they saw each didn't make Blaine completely hate him. Though, there was the chance that Blaine was doing this to make Kurt lower his guard, but really..Blaine didn't seem like the type to do that in Kurt's eyes. He still wasn't planning on forming any allegiances though. Not with Blaine, not with anyone. Things might change a bit further on during the Games, if he even got far, but even then, Kurt wouldn't allow himself to get close to any more than two people. Too much heartbreak.

---

WORDS:

[/b] 532
MUSE:[/b] NONE
TAGS:[/b] TRIBUTES!
NOTES:[/b] I feel really bad that this one is so much shorter than my last, haha xD[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[Blaine Everett Anderson]

One of the first things Blaine noticed about Kurt? He'd been attacked by make up, and sure, he was borderline clown right now, but somehow, he still managed to look good. Why Blaine was still thinking about the attractiveness of another tribute, he didn't know, but it was dangerous waters and he needed to get out of the deep end before he drowned. Blaine couldn't afford to get attached, he knew that. Any bonds he made, he made for life, and just knowing that that bond was going to be ripped apart? Yeah, he couldn't deal with that. He tried so hard not to trust too many people, knowing that deep down, he could never truly trust someone else completely. The only person he could? Himself. And Blaine didn't even know if that was true, because he was so sure he was going to do something stupid in this arena and get himself killed. Watching from the corner of his eye as Kurt pulled himself up onto the carriage, he saw a hand raise slightly, turning his head to look at him completely. There was a weak smile across Kurt's lips, though Blaine didn't think much of it. Their conversation on the train was still at the front of his mind, and it really hadn't gone too well. However, nothing was irreversible, and although he didn't plan on forming any alliances, he could at least make things neutral with Kurt again before they were sent to their deaths. Casually bringing his own hand up, he waved back a little, a gentle smile across his lips before he continued towards his own carriage. Blaine just supposed it was a good thing his arms weren't on display - that would just be more fuel to the fire, and he didn't need that. After stroking one of the horses for a little, talking to it softly and feeding it a little, Blaine climbed onto his own carriage, waiting patiently for the other tributes. He didn't know how long it would take, but he wasn't an impatient person. Blaine could sit there all day, if he had to.

---

WORDS :

[/color] Idk. (:
TAGGED :[/color] Tributes!
MUSE :[/color] WE NEVER CHANGE
NOTES :[/color] Haha. I get that. xD But I'm trying to rush through my HG ones quickly. Before I have to gooo.

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[Kurt Edward Hummel [Away]]

Kurt didn't know what would have been worse. Having Blaine's arms all on display, or just wearing the suit that he had on. Either way, he'd probably still be able to pull it off. Aaaand there he goes again, thinking about how attractive one of the other tributes was. No. He couldn't do that. It.. Was just wrong, no matter how true it was. He couldn't get too attached to anyone in anyway. It wasn't going to do him any good, in the end. Kurt knew there was only one person he had to look out for, and that was himself. He was getting himself killed otherwise.

Sitting on the carriage a while, Kurt looks up and over to the train. Scarlett still hadn't come out yet. Kurt wasn't sure if she was still in the Remake Centre, or if one of their mentors, Chris, was giving her bother again. Hopefully, it would be the former. Chris was just a creep, and if Kurt was going to be honest? He hates him. Kurt wasn't sure how he felt about William, but he didn't seem too bad. Actually seemed pretty sane. Starting to regain more feeling in his skin, Kurt sighs a little and slides off the carriage. He was going to be here for a while, and there was a horse in front of him. It wasn't anything important, or mind-blowing to him, but this was probably going to be the last time he'd ever see one. Walking over to it, Kurt looks inside the pouch of the saddle, he takes out a few cubes of sugar. Holding his hand out to it, Kurt feeds one of them the small pile of cubes, before reaching up to stroke it's nose. The horse then sneezes, causing Kurt to then jump back a little, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he blinks slowly. So, a freakin' horse made hiim look like an idiot. Wonderful.

---

WORDS:

[/b] 323
MUSE:[/b] NONE
TAGS:[/b] TRIBUTES!
NOTES:[/b][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[Lyric Valentine Hutchinson*Awy]

Lyric didn't know how her cousin had dealt with this shit. It took all her remaining strength not to scream at them to get away from her. They were crowd her and doing their preps. She just wanted to be left alone in her Seam covered flith. She wanted to be herself. She didn't want to be a Capitol drone. She didn't want to be dolled up. She wanted to go back to her normal life. Heck, she would be happy to just talk to that Finn boy again.

None of that was going to happen. They were currently making her as hairless as the day that she was born. This wasn't natural. Nothing about these games were natural. She coudln't believe that these games were ruining her life once again. There was too much pain from them. They had taken her father from her. They almost took her cousin. Last year, they had taken her best friend, Noah Puckerman. He had been so close. He was in the final two. He had almost come home to her. Were these the people that had dressed him? Were they the ones to prepare him for his death?

She couldn't think about this. Lyric leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. The prep team was about to argue it when they were hushed and dismissed. After a few minutes, she looked her head and looked at the man that had introduced himself as Cinna. She didn't know what he wanted but he was probably her stylist. She didn't smile when he said that her hair down would go better with her dress. The he motioned to the box. She opened it and slipped on the black dress. The bottom was glitter. Done to look like an amazing display of fire. She looked good in it but she ddn't want to look this pretty. She didn't want to because Puck would never see her like this. He would never set eyes on her again.

Fiddling with her charm bracelet, Lyric looked for Rory. He was the only person that she knew out here. He was her fellow tribute. She needed him on her side. That was the only way that she would handle the next week. She needed him to be a friend. Finn couldn't help her. He had his own fellow tribute to help. That was all there was to it. Then she found Rory. He was talking to a girl in a gold dress. Hey Rory.

---

Words; 433
Tagged; Tributes
Muse; HERE'S
US
Notes; works for Lyric I guess

[Scarlett Deja Grey *Awy]

That train ride had not been pleasant. Between the crazy career tributes that were running about the train and Chris, Scarlett had spent most of her time hiding out in her room. She didn't want to deal with people. She just wanted to relax and not freak out before they started this whole thng. She just wanted to eat some good food and focus on a way to live through this whole thing. That was how she ended up falling asleep in the chair by her window and not of the bed. That was also where she was when three very perky people woke her up. They were all smiles. The one female had bright pink hair and pale green skin. The others looked like twins. Red-orange hair with super tan skin. She was very confused by this and didn't argue with they plucked her out of the chair and carried her off to the Remake Centre.

They started to undress her. Which, while it made her very uncomfortable, she didn't really fight it. That would just make everything worse. She couldn't have things be any worse than they were. She couldn't deal with the Peacekeepers coming after her for being disorderly. She just let them go about their business and remained silent. Silent and unmoving. She just let herself be their human barbie. No one was more fitted for the role than a blond like herself. She just wanted this all to be a horrible dream and she would wake in her bed in District Eight.

Letting her eyes fall closed, Scarlett took a few deep breath, hoping that this wasn't real. Then something pinched her. Her eyes flew open and she noticed they were plucking her hair. They were removing her hair. All the hair that they didn't want her to have. Why did they have to do this? It was very annoying. They had already been at this for a while. She hadn't even realized how long she had actually had her closed. It was rather freaky, if she was to be honest.

Though once the hair was gone, they basically began to scrub District Eight off of her. She didn't like this one bit. The last smell of her normal scent was taken over by Capital soap. They were scrubbing the callouses from her hands. They were part of who she was. They were a part of what made her District Eight. She didn't want them gone. She could bring herself to stop them though.

Hell, they were completely changing her. They had her hair twisted up now and loose waves falling to frame her face. She had a thin layer of make-up cakes on her face. Though this was thick to anyone who wasn't from the Capitol. She didn't want to look in the mirror. She didn't want to see what they had made her into. She was afraid that she wouldn't see herself anymore. She didn't want to imagine what she was being turned into.

Then they were gone. she looked around and they were gone. She didn't even hear them leave. Which was the creepy part in and of itself. Then she heard a door. She looked over to find a man. He actually looked normal compared to his prep team. Aside from his oddly pale skin. She didn't speak and neither did he other than to state his name. Kelvie. It was an odd name. A Capitol name. Though he was holding a box.

Opening the box, she found the most stunning green dress that she had ever laid eyes on and probably would ever lay eyes on. She looked at the man and he told her to put it on. She slipped the soft velvet like material over her skin. She liked how it felt. She twirled when it was on and caught a half glance in the mirror. She stopped and turned towards the mirror. She was right. A stranger was staring back at her. A stranger with her blond waves and facial features. Her lifeless green-blue eyes staring back at her. This was what she was now. A dead Capitol puppet. One that they could parade around however they wanted. Basically her spirit didn't have the will to fight tonight.

Stepping off the train, Scarlett looked around at the tributes that were out here already. Her eyes landed on Kurt. He was jumping back slightly away from the horse. She normally would have chuckled. But she had no reason to laugh right now. Instead, she walked to Kurt. She wasn't sure what he was doing but she didn't want him to get jumpy again. Kurt, how you holding up? That was probably the stupidest thing to say but it wasn't like she had anything better to say.

---

]Words; 827
]Tagged; Tributes
]Muse; HERE'S TO US
]Notes; this will have to do

[Melyssa Serenity St. James*Awy]

Here she stood, getting made over. All she could still think about was the fact that Blaine Anderson had saved her brother. Her baby brother would live for another year and maybe even then he would be lucky enough to not be choosen. That was all she could ask for. No amount of hair they plucked from her body or funky soap that they scrubbed on her skin would change that. She would forever be grateful and forever be in debt to him. She knew that if it came down to the two of them, that she would let him live. She would pay her debt with her life.

Though it was useless to think about that now. She was getting all dolled up to be parade in front of the Capitol people like she was some prized dog. The thought of that had her out of the chair the prep team had just sat in her. Objections flying and three high voices squealing at her as she emptied her breakfast into the empty waste bin. That had come out of nowhere. Though better it happen now than while they were in the carriage. That would have been horrible. She didn't care anyways. This was all just a game that she didn't want to be a pawn in.

Then a woman with long green hair came in carrying some kind of box. She turned to the woman. Ingoring her name and waiting to be shown the contents of the box. It was a black dress. Just a simple black dress. Nothing to fancy but fancy enough for a lumberjack's daughter. She slipped the dress on and her stylist clipped a belt around her waist with the typical lumberjack checks. Then she looked at the necklace that JC gave her. She had a thought and asked the stylist where the jewelry was. She followed the still nameless woman with out a care. eventually she found a leather choker. She attached the charm to it and then wrapped the chain around her waist. She slipped the choker around her neck. Then looked in the mirror. She looked perfect. Like the prefect Capitol pet. Collar and all. Woof. Then she strolled away from her stylist, trying not to smirk.

She looked around the carriages and spotted Blaine. He was standing their carriage, minding his own business it would seem. Not that there was much reason to socialize with people that would be death by the end of the week. Especially those you might be the one to kill. She stepped into the carriage and leaned against the opposite side. So, any of them been bothering you?

---

Words; 456
Tagged; Tributes
Muse; HERE'S TO US
Notes; best I can do with Lyssa at the moment

[Sebastian Sinclair Smythe *Awy]

Now was the time to be brave and strong. Sebastian had to get ready to protect Rachel. That was his goal in the arena. To get her out alive and home to her family even if he wouldn't be going with her. That was all he was good for. He didn't care what these people did to him as long as he got his girl home alive. If he lost her, he wouldn't be going home. He couldn't live without her. They could pluck and pull and primp him all they wanted but his mind was made up when it came to Rachel. This was just the start though. He knew that much. It was just how it was going to be.

He sighed and wasted for his damn stylist. The guy had the nerve to make him wait around. Sebastian really hated these Capitol pricks even more now. Though he was here to play a pawn in their little game. Then a woman strolld in. Bright orange curls that seemed to glow. He had to look away before his eyes burned. She dressed him in a suit. Though it was all black and white except the gold vest that he would learn matched Rachel's dress. He tightened his tie for effect and then left.

Getting off the train, he loosened the tie and unbuttoned the jacket. That was more his style. He then looked for Rachel. He found her talking to District Twelve. She looked beautiful in that gold dress. Walking up behind her, he grabbed her hand and whispered in her ear. You look gorgeous.

---

Words; 277
Tagged; Tributes
Muse; HERE'S TO US
Notes; I'm trying here. I swear

[Rachel Barbara Berry [Away]]

After she introduces herself to the boy she assumed to be from District 12, a blond girl walks forward to them " Hey Rory."

[/b][/i] She turns and smiles at her. "Hey, I was just saying 'Hi'. I wasn't being dodgy or anything."[/b] She nods, as though to confirm the fact. "You look gorgeous."[/b][/i] She gasps lightly, when feeling someone grabbinng her hand, but smiles at his voice, knowing right away that it was Sebastian. She turns around, blushing slightly. She looks down, lookiing over his outfit, before meeting his gaze "You look amazing."[/b] She says, breathlessly as she looks up at him.

---

WORDS:[/b] 101
MUSE:[/B] I FEEL PRETTY[/B][/SIZE][/FONT][/URL]
TAGS:[/B]
NOTES:[/B][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[Kurt Edward Hummel [Away]]

Kurt really didn't feel like himself in this outfit. He didn't look like himself anyway. He was just... He looked so much like a typical Capitol boy, and if Marta told his prep team that he wasn't to have any surgery? Kurt could bet he would look a hell of a lot worse. Kurt did have to wonder if his mother ever had to through this. Whether or not she looked nothing like herself, had everything from home taken away, and had her prep team talk about how she was a case that needed surgery.

He looks up when hearing someone approach, not sure how he felt when he saw it was Scarlett. Kurt was relieved that it was his fellow District Eight tribute, but could he say he was happy to see her? He didn't know. " Kurt, how you holding up? "

[/b][/i] Kurt sighs a little, turning away to scowl. What was it with people asking him that recently? He turns and looks at her, and shrugs. "I'm alright...You?"[/b]

---

WORDS:[/b] 170
MUSE:[/b] NONE
TAGS:[/b] TRIBUTES!
NOTES:[/b][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[Dave Strider]

Dave took his first step off of the train, being led into a nearby building by a gaudy Capitol woman who claimed to be his "stylist".
God, he was sick of these people already. The prep team weren't any better - a bunch of overly dressed broads with some apparent love for dressing teenagers up like they were some kind of damn doll.

It wasn't until they started trying to strip him that he kicked up a fuss, snapping at anyone who got too close. It wasn't any good though, they just continued regardless of what he said.
After they decided he was naked enough for whatever the hell it was they were doing next he was shoved towards yet another member of the prep team. She threw a sicky sweet smile at him. "Well, let's see what we have here, shall we?" With that, she quickly raised her hands, pulling Dave's sunglasses from his face and passing them on to another member of the team, who just wandered off with them.

Oh hell no.

Panic hit Dave like a ton of bricks, he wanted to spout every insult he knew at the woman, demand she give him his damn shades right now. She'd know better than to mess with him. Ain't no-one stupid enough to mess with a Strider.
But, no, he didn't say a thing - all he could manage was a slight whimper.
Instead he just stared at her, eyes widened. "Fuck, FUCK. Why did she have to go and do that?"

[/color] His nails dug into the seat he was on. It felt wrong. He didn't like this, sitting there, he now just felt... vunerable.

Vunerable... that's not something he would have considered to be in his vocabulary, but here he was. Staring at the woman in front of him like he was a five-year-old who just had a monster jump out from under his bed.
"Oh, well that is... interesting." She smiled at him again. It made him sick to his stomach. "Such an unusual eye colour that is. Now, let's see if I can make something work with that red, hmm?"

"Damn it...."

He zoned out after that, he didn't want to hear anything any of those damn people had to say about him. The next thing he knew, he was being ushered up onto one of the carriages. He stood there, in a strange white and red suit, his hair slicked back and... missing his shades.
He gripped the side of the carriage, visibly shaking, trying to distract himself. Maybe if he pretended he wasn't there it wouldn't seem so bad.
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