A/N This is my entry for Gethsemane's 24 words challenge. I don't really know how well it turned out but I don't think it's terrible! Forgive me if I have some details wrong, I still don't have my book back! ConCrit is appreciated!

Challenge Plan- I want to do a series of one-shots about each of the tributes dying and the way they had effected the people around them.

Promise is about District One's female tribute, Glimmer. The POV is of the stylist who created outfits for her.

Promise

Glimmer, Glimmer, Glimmer. I certainly struck gold with her as my tribute! A beauty like that could make the outfit perfect even if it were the made of the oldest, most tattered rags. I knew all the hard work I'd put into reaching District One was worth it! I'd put in years and years of hard slog, working my way up from District Nine; oh they knew I had talent, they didn't waste it on District 12 – what can you do with coal, honestly?

Well, after the opening ceremony, I berated myself, why didn't I think of that? The new stylists, Cinna and Portia, certainly had the right idea! I wished I had got there first. They probably came up with the idea whilst destroying the designs they had originally made – burning, fire, an inspiration then, flash! A showstopping outfit. The only district that came even close to this spectacle was mine. I knew my work wasn't the most amazing creation to ever grace the Earth, or even the best piece I had made, but it didn't matter. Diamonds and pearls [oh, how I love working with this district, I'd take luxury items over coal any day] were nothing compared to Glimmer. She simply shone, her hair luminescent in the overhead lights of my fitting room and her body, lithe and lean, providing the model for every designers dream garment.

There was something a little disconcerting about her though. It was probably the reason that my work wasn't of the best standard. Despite her obvious, radiant beauty, it was difficult to be around Glimmer for a long period of time, she was abrupt and ice cold. Her warm blonde hair masked the wintery bleakness of her inside mind. Spending time with her chilled me to the bone. I could tell that she was ruthless and wouldn't hesitate to kill even the tiniest of tributes. There was no sense of compassion from her, what I actually felt was loathing coursing through her veins. Just like a tribute should be, I reminded myself. Career's were more likely to win. Careers hated, didn't they?

I watched her in the arena, I was right, she didn't seem to care about who she killed. She was in there at the Cornucopia and getting the best of the food and weapons. For a while I thought I had a winner on my hands. I even let myself get the slightest bit hopeful, after all she seemed like a girl who didn't taken a promise lightly. She'd do anything to keep a promise. The promise in question was made to me, at her final fitting for her interview gown. 'Aphrodite, thank you for the gowns, I can't give you anything in return. Apart from a promise, I have nothing. This is why I promise you that I will win. I know you have a passion for designing and a real talent too, if I win, you will be able to design my tour outfits and you deserve that, thank you.'

Needless to say, I was taken aback by this. Then, as I turned it over in my mind more and more, I realised that she had been speaking in a flat, mechanical way. I knew that people from District One thought themselves almost as good as the Capitollers and believed that they should act like they were. Even a girl as damaged and cold as Glimmer would have had courtesy and politeness drilled into her. Even children designated to kill were taught manners. She was making this promise out of the sense it was the decent thing to do, not genuine feelings. I was still grateful.

I continued to watch the games. Glimmer, a terrible, beautiful princess battled on and on. I was glued to my set, hoping for her to be a victor mainly, I won't – deny it – so I could design more outfits. A victory tour was known as the best launchpad for a Capitol career in fashion. I studied her everyday, gathering more and more inspiration for what would be the most magnificent collection of clothing in the world. I was glued, fervently watching my screen until the moment she broke her promise. A broken promise. A broken woman, no, a broken child.

A/N Thank you so much for getting this far in my story (: R&R?