Lizzie rose quickly and offered her hand to their mentor,
“Hey Ms. Crippet, I’m Elizabeth Browning.”

Crippet took her hand with a warm smile that couldn’t quite reach her eyes, “Hello Ms. Browning.”

Blaine, who had followed on Lizzie’s heels, held out his hand to Crippet, smiling, “I’m Blaine Anderson.”

Crippet just stared at the boy before her, ignoring his hand as she said coldly, “Pleasure.”

Blaine, although confused, didn’t comment on his mentor’s hostility, and let his hand drop.

“You two should go wash up. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.” And with that, Crippet strode out of the room.

After a minute, Lizzie, eyebrow raised, finally commented, “Brr.”

Letting out a short laugh, Blaine headed off into his room, shutting the door behind him and finally taking in his quarters for the first time. It was simple, a single bed with a dresser and small entryway that led to the bathroom.

Blaine shrugged off his wrinkled button down and slacks, slipping them into the laundry hamper before heading into the bathroom. Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he stepped into the shower, fumbling with the multiple buttons before he finally managed to turn on a stream of water. Stepping underneath the warm spray, Blaine rinsed out his curls, rolling his shoulders as he relieved his tight muscles. Switching off the shower, he grabbed a big white towel and dried himself off before slipping into a pair of loose fitting jeans and a white t-shirt -the closest thing he could get to “normal”.

Blaine exited his room and stepped into the dining room where Porkeyes (their portly district escort), Crippet, and Lizzie were already seated alongside two unfamiliar faces.

“You’re late Anderson.” Crippet said coldly, “Take a seat.”

“Sorry…” Blaine muttered as he slid into a chair beside Lizzie, ignoring Crippet’s cold stare and turning his attention to the food before him, his stomach treacherously growling.

“Go ahead, it isn’t poisonous!” Porkeyes said with a laugh, winking at the two hesitant teenagers, who didn’t need any more encouragement.

After everyone had eaten and admittedly bursting at the seams, Porkeyes spoke again, “Time for some introductions! Ms. Browning, meet your stylist Mr. Roger Hawkins,” a tall man with brown hair and purple eyes nodded in acknowledgement, “And Mr. Anderson meet Steven York, you’re stylist,” an older man with white hair and green eyes gave a small wave. “These two will be responsible for making you guys look presentable as well as fabulous to the Capitol audience. Both are experienced so you should have nothing to worry about!”

Crippet eyed the scene with her steel grey eyes disgusted at Porkeyes’s cheeriness and interrupted blankly, “Well now that the introductions are over we can be concerned with more pressing matters. Ms.Browning let’s go to the main-room to watch a replay of the reapings. We need to see your competition.” And with that she rose and dragged Lizzie to her feet, calling back, “Anderson you too.”

Blaine rose silently and followed the two into the main-room, the stylists and the escort closely behind him, before taking a seat in front of a television, as far from his mentor as possible but still next to Lizzie.

Crippet switched on the screen and the group watched as District 1 flickered onto the screen. Blaine shut his eyes as he heard his name called once again in the television, not wanting to relive to scene again. His eyes pricked as he heard Kurt’s cries emerging from the speaker but he kept his screwed shut.

“It’s over.” Lizzie whispered from beside him.

Opening his eyes and giving her a small nod of thanks Blaine settled down and watched the rest of the districts, watching as strangers became his enemies. He ignored the calls from the families of those strangers, shutting his eyes when things became emotional. He felt Lizzie wipe a tears from her pales cheeks before she followed his example. The districts passed by in a blur, no one truly standing out. All Blaine could comprehend or even possibly care about was that the majority were significantly larger, better fed, and probably stronger than he was. It didn’t matter which district they came from or what life they were leaving behind, he was going to be thrust into an arena with them regardless, and only one was coming out.

Once all 24 names were called, Crippet switched off the television, “The train will be pulling into the station soon so just stay put for now. Once you get off, you will follow your stylists into the Remake Center where you will begin to prepare for tonight’s opening ceremonies. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that she briskly left.

When the cold woman had left the room Blaine shot out of his chair and headed towards the window, pulling away the curtains and staring out in awe as the world flew past him. Lizzie joined him and they stood watching as the Capitol eased into view, a collection of tall buildings and bright colors. The train slipped into the station and stuttered to a halt, and remembering Crippet’s orders, the two District 1 tributes followed their stylists into a white building.

York called out, “Mr. Anderson you’re coming with me. Let’s go!”

Blaine shot one last look at Lizzie before following his stylist down clean white halls, drowning out the older man’s incessant chatter.

“Here we are! Go inside and meet your prep team and get prepped while I get the final bits of your costume set up.” York said cheerfully, shoving Blaine through a set of sliding doors.

Strange men and women in white stripped him down and after a great deal of plucking, ripping, snipping, shaving, brushing, powdering, polishing and gelling, Blaine, now clad in a simple white robe, looked up into the mirror with shock.

He was barely recognizable. His dark hair was cut and gelled into a helmet, his curls tamed and gone. Gone were the dark circles under his eyes and any blemish on his body. His skin, polished and shaved, was void of any hair and was a healthy tan glow, nails rounded and punk. His eyebrows were plucked into perfect triangles, his hazel eyes shining brightly. The attractive yet unkept boy from District 1 had disappeared, and in his place sat a dapper young gentleman.

The stranger in the mirror looked at him uneasily, until he was whisked away by the people around him and into another room.

“Oh Blaine you look splendid! Well done prep team!” York exclaimed as those around him burst out in cheers. “Now to get you dressed! We’re cutting it close!” He said as everyone wizzed into action again, standing still as pins poked and prodded. Finally, after all necessary adjustments were made, York handed to him a pile of clothes.

Blaine wordlessly took them and slipped them on, reveling at the feel of the luxurious materials against his skin. The outfit was simple, a dark grey with a silk white undershirt. Understated but neat, it screamed elegance and demanded respect. The stranger in the mirror, clad in such finery, finally smiled.

“Thank you York! Everything looks great!” He said. If only Kurt could see him now…

“Yes yes it looks fine but something’s missing… I’m not sure what.” York hummed, tapping his fingers against his head.

Hazel eyes studied the room around him until they stilled and he gasped. There upon a pile of fabrics, lay a silver bowtie, delicate pearly patterns stitched onto it.

Blaine grabbed it and looked pleadingly at his stylist, “Please?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Come on! I’ve always wanted to wear one and since this might be my last time…”He trailed off, his eyes taking on a puppy dog quality.

“Fine!” York replied with an exaggerated sigh, but unable to stop his lips from twitching upwards. “Now hold still!”
Blaine, almost bouncing, stilled for a moment as York clipped the bowtie to his collar and adjusted it.

“Okay we’re done!” York smiled. “Spin slowly.”

Blaine did what he was told, unable to keep the grin off his face.

“Perfect! Absolutely splendid!” York laughed, pulling Blaine out of the room and into the hallway where they were greeted by Lizzie and her stylist.

Although knowing the extent of his own transformation, Blaine couldn’t keep the surprise off his face when he saw what had happened to Lizzie.

She was clad in a short silver dress swirled with grey and white patterns. It was short, reaching the middle of her thigh and her feet were covered with dainty silver slippers. Her hair shimmered in blonde curls to the middle of her back. Her makeup was dramatically done, silver and black eyeliner sweeping into long wings beside her grey eyes.

She shot a glare at Blaine, “Stop staring. And aren’t you gay?” she said trying to tug her dress down but to no avail.

“Of course I am. But you look… different. Fabulous, but different.”

“So do you.”

Blaine offered an arm, “If I may my lady?”

“Why of course dear gentleman.”

Both tributes fell into a fit of giggles as they linked arms and followed their stylists down to the bottom level of the Remake center, which is essentially a giant stable. Around them tributes were being loaded onto chariots drawn by two well trained horses that would drive them through the crowds.

Porkeyes was there beside District 1’s white chariot and snow-white horses, “Wonderful! Dare I say Ms. Browning you look gorgeous and Mr. Anderson you look dashing.” He gasped when he saw them, offering well received congratulations to their excited stylists.

Ushering them onto the chariots and positioning them correctly, Porkeyes gave them a few last minute instructions, giddy with excitement, “Remember, we’re looking for elegant and royal so wave the crowd regally. And smile, but not too widely. Got that?”

Lizzie and Blaine nodded uneasily.

“Okay so we’re set! Good luck out there! The crowd will love you.” He said with a final wink, patting the horses which moved as trained to the wide doors, preparing to exit when the time came.

Blaine felt his heartbeat quicken. Here at the head of the column he could hear the commotion from the other chariots behind him, but he was too overwhelmed with the sound of the crowd beyond the doors to dare to look back.

The music begins, and the massive doors slide open revealing the crowd-lined streets. Taking a shaky breath and holding his head up high, Blaine feels the carriage lurch, the horses leading them into the roar.