Exposed [82th d8 opening ceremony]

There is more to us than our district. We are more than a number. More than the needle and thread. More than the fabric that covers us. Protects us. We're never truly us. Till our guard's down. Till our walls fall.

Till the robe drops.

Around my ankles it rests. The softest thing I've ever felt. Likely stitched in my district. Sewn by my neighbor. Hours lost to lay on the ground. Left behind. I step forward. Listen to the cheers of the Capitol. Are they more than that? Are they more than bloodlust and glitter? It's yet to be seen. I am still in the waiting tunnel. My eyes are shut tight. Jaw locked. It goes without saying what I need. My tongue slides between dry lips.

Ike is beside me. Ike who volunteered. Ike with hands like bricks. Sturdy. Used. He is dressed like me. In the air. In gusts of cold from the vents. In his insecurities.

Maybe he has none. He looks fine. I look down at my arms. At my thighs. At the layers of foundation. Earlier Adessia matched my tone and smiled. Nothing else. She didn't ask. She didn't gasp. I was grateful. I am.

The sevens are almost done. We get the twenty second signal. Rocko runs up. An escort showing up late. After those he is meant to escort. He shoves glasses into our hands and winks. I forgive his tardiness. My throat melts in appreciation. Rocko takes back the glass and it's time. I glance at Ike.

Maybe he's covering scars too. Clothes aren't the only way to hide yourself.

The lights come up and I blink. Swallow. Lick my teeth. And I grin as the Capitol sees my ass.