The Youngest Victor

Charriots

You stare at the almost luminous orange dress as it sat upon the mannequin.

How were you going to get sponsors looking like a traffic cone?

I mean, you kind of deserved it since you didn't listen last night.

You couldn't go to your stylist to sort it out because they would've had workers on that dress for hours on end and it was unfair to them.

Instead, you glance around the room and notice a pair of scissors on the ground.

You thought that was a little bit strange considering that any weapons were not supposed to be left near the tributes in case any of them decide to commit suicide but you pick them up nevertheless.

You pause for a minute, contemplating the design you had to transform.

Then, you spring into action, cutting gaping holes in the material and sewing together bits of scrap material you'd found on the floor.

After around five minutes the dress was left looking completely different.

You were especially proud of your handiwork, district eight did seem to have some perks.

"All tributes should make their way to the carriages." You here a tannoy above you.

"Shit." You mutter, before quickly pulling the dress over you.

It wasn't the best but at least it would stand out  from the others.

All you could do was hope that the tributes from District 12 wouldn't come out in flames again, that would definitely steal the show.

You bite your lip as you smooth down your top, practically legging it to the carriages.

It was pretty cool how the tribute tower was connected where the parade was going to take place this year.

Last time, you remember having to take a tube there which was fun but it was stressful having the other tributes glare at you as you sat in your eccentric costume.

You step aboard the carriage and your fellow district eight victor-turned-tribute was waiting for you.

You were glad that your costumes weren't supposed to be matching otherwise you'd have look ridiculously dumb.

Or maybe he would've.

"Could you possibly take any longer?" He says, at that point you realised how much of a brat being a victor had made him.

You hoped you weren't like that.

You gulp as you notice the other tributes from eleven and twelve walk past you to their carriage behind you.

Dammit.

Katniss and Peeta, last year's star crossed lovers from district 12, were wearing dark black flammable looking costumes.

You were about to curse under your breath when you hear the smiling Peeta Mellark shout you a compliment just as your chariot starts to roll forwards.

"Nice costume!" He says, not sounding sarcastic, mocking or fake.

A guy that you would have to fight to death against was being genuinely nice.

What kind of a world did you live in?