Foxface's POV

I awoke to a sudden rush of light as my bedroom door opens.

"Morning. Get dressed for breakfast. Five minutes," the voice urged before gently pushing the door to a close. My eyes had not yet adjusted, but I instantly recognized the voice to be my male mentor, Quinn. I had not met him yet, but there was no mistaking his light, melodic tone, almost as if he were whispering. The train must have stopped at some point while I was sleeping, allowing him to board. Sighing, I rolled out of bed, wishing I could sleep an hour or two more. I pulled the first two garments I saw out of my dresser, a light blue tunic and a pair of soft leather pants, pulling them on haphazardly before I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I decided against putting on any makeup, not wanting to miss my five minute deadline.

As I enter the dining room, I am surprised to see only Quinn awaiting me. It must have been very early if neither Tatianna nor Ronan had awoken. Quinn seemed to sense my confusion.

"I would prefer to coach the two of you separately. There is no need for you two to know the other's approach to the games," he states simply, placing a generous helping of eggs, potatoes, berries, and toasted bread in front of me. "Feel free to eat while we talk,"

He allows me a few moments of peace as I take my first few bites. I notice that he has no plate in front of him, choosing instead to sip from a tall glass of milk. A few more seconds pass before he places his drink down, turning his attention back to me.

"What would you say your strengths are?" he asks. I rack my brain for a proper response, but I am not exactly sure what he is looking for.

"I would consider myself to be intelligent," I try. Quinn seems pleased by this, nodding his head slightly.

"I agree," he offers. I am not quite sure how he could already have formed an opinion on my level of intellect, but I decide against asking. A few moments pass before I realize he is waiting for another attribute. Unfortunately for me, I would consider my brain to be my only true asset. Quinn seems to realize that I am stumped.

"How fast can you run?" He tried, taking another sip of milk.

"I have good endurance. My sprint is so-so," I reply truthfully.

"So-so is all we need," he states, confusing me slightly. I suppose he knew the moment he saw me that my athletic skillset would be average at best. Average was likely the best he had dared hope for.

"I assume you have no combat experience?" I shook my head.

"That is hardly a problem. Tatianna will teach you the basics, but our goal will be to minimize combat. It is the best strategy for someone like you," A small sigh of relief escapes my lips. Less combat sounded like a great plan to me. I was about to comment on Quinn's plan when he pulled out a small pile of papers and placed them in front of them. Before I could question them, he held one up for me to see.

"Do you recognize this mushroom?" He seems unable to stay on any particular topic for very long. Examined the mushroom for a moment before realizing I had seen them many times in the market place.

"It's a button mushroom," I answer confidently. Quinn nods his head, placing the picture in front of me before pulling up the next. I am slightly as perplexed as I look at an almost identical picture.

"I assume that is not also a button mushroom, but I cannot name it," I try, hoping to get partial credit for my inferring abilities.

"This one is a destroying angel. Half a cap will kill you. A full cap will kill almost anyone. Death occurs within one day," he informs me before placing the two pictures next to each other.

"Find the difference" he requests, leaning back in his seat. I examined the two closely for a moment.

"The button mushroom has pinkish gills, while the destroying angel's are pure white," I state confidently. Quinn offers me a smile before moving the two cards aside, presenting me with two new pictures, this time depicting two species of roundish berries, one a darker shade of blue than the other. I felt a small surge of pride for knowing this one immediately.

"The left one is blueberries. Edible. Delicious. The right is nightlock. Guaranteed death," I said. Quinn gave me a wide smile.

"Excellent,"

We continued this exercise for the remainder of breakfast, going through each plant and repeating those that I failed to recognize. We were on a third round of review by the time Tatianna and Ronan join us. Ronan's eyes were practically glued shut as he seated himself next to me silently, paying little attention to the cards in front of me. Once he had settled, he glanced at the cards before pointing at the picture of nightlock and looking at Quinn.

"Do you know if this train serves blueberries?"

After two hours or so, the train was nearing the outskirts of The Capitol. I now sat across from Quinn on a bar stool situated near a large window. We had spent the morning discussing everything from potential interview questions to how to properly tie a noose. It was a lot to take in, so much that even I was beginning to feel overwhelmed with information. I notice that he almost said nothing to Ronan, who chose not to take part in our discussion. It was a little saddening to see him so defeated, but I dismissed my pity easily enough. All it really meant was that I had one less competitor.

Suddenly, Quinn ceased his lecture on how to find a water source as The Capitol came into view. Although I tried not to, I could not help but gasp at the marvel before me. The buildings were taller than any I had ever seen, some even reaching into the clouds. The city was practically overflowing with color, drawing my eyes in practically every direction. The buildings were intimidatingly beautiful, the cars were the epitome of luxury, I would even dare say that the sun shined brighter here than in my district, ridiculous as it may sound. None of this, however, compared to the people. Of course, I had seen the people of the capital many times on video, but it in no way prepared me for the assault of color shouting at me from the other side of the glass. Instinctively, I looked at Quinn for guidance.

"Be pleasant, but composed," he managed through his smile, his lips barely moving. "You are happy to see them, but you have more important matters to attend to." I do my best to follow his instructions, crossing my legs, fixing my posture, and smiling cordially. For a moment, I consider waving, but I instead opt for a small nod. It is difficult to gauge their reactions due to the brief window I have to observe each individual citizen, but I am certain of one thing. They will remember me. At this point, what more could I ask?

When the train finally came to a stop, Quinn appears to be pleased with my performance. Admittedly, reading him proves to be a rather daunting task, but I choose to believe that he is satisfied.

"It is time for cosmetic preparation. I will see the two of you soon," he states simply, signaling us towards the exit of the train. He offers no further explanation, but I am able to infer he is referring to some sort of makeover before the parade. I did my best to mask my distain. As I rise to exit, Quinn grabs my arm unexpectedly, looking me dead in the eye.

"Do not complain to them. No matter what they say. No matter what they do." Apparently, Quinn does not have the same struggle with reading me. "The same goes to you, Ronan," he adds as an afterthought. I have a feeling that Ronan did not actually hear Quinn, but he nods his head nevertheless. Slowly, I make my way out of the train cart and onto the ground below, bracing myself for what was to come.

When I am introduced to my stylist, Aquilia, I do my best not to gasp at the sight before me. She was not ugly, she might have even been beautiful, in a way. However, I was half convinced that what I was looking at was not entirely human. Her entire body was painted white, with a pattern of black triangles present at seeming randomly selected sections of her anatomy. The iris of her eyes was both an inhuman shade of purple and augmented to be twice the size that they should be. I had no doubt her nose had been surgically elongated, as it almost resembled a beak. I could only pray that the tissue connecting her hips to her arms was a part of her outfit and not her body. It was obvious that she was trying to look like a bird. She even went so far as to put a perfectly manicured bird's nest in her hair, complete with a jade egg. I spent what was likely an impolite length of time observing her before realizing she was beaming at me.

"Why hello, my darling!" she warbled, pulling me into an embrace. "I'm Aquilia, so nice to finally meet you!" At least she was enthusiastic. I suppose.

"Finch," I offer, knowing the door I had just opened.

"Finch!" she exclaimed. "You're named after a bird? Why, I just absolutely adore birds!" I bite my tongue, deciding a smile is the safest response I can offer. She accepts it wholeheartedly before nudging me towards a flat metal surface where I presume I am meant to lay. Following her instructions, I strip down and lay on my back, feeling the cold metal on my backside. I close my eyes and brace myself for the worst.

By the time I was ready to be placed in my parade outfit, my entire body ached dully, mourning the hair and skin that it was robbed of. Aquilia had waxed almost every inch of my body, including areas that I am almost positive had no hair in the first place, all while discussing everything from past outfits she had designed to the motivation behind her love for birds. The chatter was less gruesome than the waxing, but only slightly. I now sat myself on the metal table as Aquilia pulled out what I presume to be my costume. I do my best not to sigh in disappointment.

She beams as she shows me a simple grey jumpsuit with an array of lightbulbs forming a sort of collar. Lightbulbs. For the electricity district. Revolutionary. The outfit isn't necessarily repulsive, but it is wholly forgettable. I can almost swear that this exact jumpsuit was worn a few years ago. Regardless, I smile as widely as I can, even managing to let out an enthusiastic "wow".

When I finally put the garment on, I begin to feel ever so slightly better. The garment looked no less dull on my body than on the rack, but I was slowly convincing myself that the parade was of little importance. After all, neither Quinn nor Tatianna had very memorable parades, yet both are still alive and kicking. As I begin my march towards where the parade will eventually begin, I have managed to mostly dismiss the parade's importance.

"Just do what you can now. Worry about the rest later," I repeated to myself. I eventually made it to my chariot to find Ronan in an identical costume, modified only to accommodate our different proportions. We exchanged an eye roll before boarding our chariot, waiting patiently for our turn to ride out. When our turn came, we were met with light, scattered applause as the audience waited for something more interesting to emerge. I do my best to sell the garment, maintaining my composure and waving at the crowd, and begin to receive minor attention. Hoping to garner more applause, I pull my hair out of its tight ponytail, letting my mane of hair lose. This earns some loud shouts of encouragement, prompting me to give a graceful flip in the crowd's direction. I even heard someone shout my name. Where Ronan, who stood petrified on his chariot, will be forgotten entirely, I can reasonably hope to be recognized in the days to come.

When I glance at the projector, I realize that I have been a hair too optimistic with my self-evaluation. Onscreen, the tributes of District 12 were outshining me with ease. A cape of fire caressed their back, causing the crowd to practically lose their minds. Their hands were interlocked and raised, as if celebrating a victory. Refusing to look any closer, I immediately turn away from the projector and continue my performance as if nothing had happened.

"It's Fine," I thought as I blew a kiss to the crowd. "District 12 can win this round. They will not win the next."