Function vs Fashion [Night]
Apr 21, 2012 17:53:44 GMT -5
Post by Bryya on Apr 21, 2012 17:53:44 GMT -5
Does, Says, Thinks, Hears
A low grumble, almost a growl, rolled from within my chest as I stared down the skyscraper in front of me. For reasons unknown by myself, these trainers decided their Careers should "experience not only the fighting part of being a tribute, but the fashion part also!" I happen to disagree with that statement in more ways than one. While no doubt lingered in my ability to fight, my people ability faltered quite a bit. Apparently, my self-serving attitude paled me in comparison to the charismatic assholes that were my training partners.
When the chubby fashion-lady paid a visit to the training center, my facial expression had rooted itself halfway between horror and exasperation. Her hands flew back and forth, up and down, in animation as she exuberantly preached to our training mentors in her high pitched voice. Words flew from her mouth quickly and they were stressed in a way that made your head move up and down to catch what she was saying. I had thought there was no way would they let us waste an entire day by going to some fashion place I hadn't even bothered to remember the name of. Maybe it was to force the fashion-lady to shut up or maybe they actually liked the idea, but they agreed to force us to go.
That is how I ended up squinting my eyes against the sun that reflected off the glass panels they used as walls. It seemed they were cleverly placed so that you could not look at them in any direction without being blinded by bright light. People around me began to stir and moved forward, following the chubby lady who must have been regarding the group as I stared off into space. Begrudgingly, I walked forward. The tips of my shoes scraped the cement flooring as I tried to drag behind the group. I was not ready to face the horror that waited behind the walls of this building.
Placed directly above the clear double doors were giant red letters spelling out "Vasquez Corp." I shrugged off the name before I recognized it. This place didn't have a name, not a specific one. This place was Hell and I was about to cross through the gates. Even more proof of the buildings resemblance to Hell was given when I crossed the threshold, being greeted by a sweltering heat. Almost immediately my brow began to sweat and I got even more frustrated. The next four hours of my life would be wasted, and apparently, sweated, away. I tried to remind myself that no matter how much I despised this, it was important. Sort of.
I crossed my arms, balled my fists, and stepped into the middle of the line that had formed in front of me. The chubby fashion-lady was standing a few feet away and talking with her head-nodding voice again. Most of what she said, I ignored, but I got the gist. According to her we would all be assigned a stylist in the building and they would take us through some of the motions of the fashion and personality portion of the Games. Mainly, the fashion. My jaw tightened as she continued to talk and I decided it would be far better for her health and mine if I quit listening.
My eyes began to wander and I noted a few curious things about Vasquez Corp. Curious may not have been the right word. It was just that everything seemed like it had some odd tweak to it: too big or too small, too bright or too dull. It was so odd compared to the rest of District 1. A quick movement caught my eyes before I could think more on the oddness of Vasquez Corp. The chubby fashion lady (that was beginning to seem like her name) was on the move again. She grabbed a bowl that resembled that in which our names sit during the Reaping, except smaller.
Bowl in-hand, the fashion-lady made her way to the first person in our line. He was a strong career whom I had trained with before, he looked even more dismayed than me. I watched carefully as he stuck his hand in the bowl with short, jerking motions and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. Without a single moment of hesitation, chubby fashion-lady moved on to the second in line. Similar exchanges took place between her and the other Careers to my left. Finally, she reached me and looked at me expectantly.
Long seconds passed as I stared at the bowl in front of me. If I pick up that paper then I would almost be condoning this exercise, which I clearly do not. Then again, am I actually able to say no? I groaned and shoved my one hand down at my side with a jerk. My other hand reached for the bowl, only hesitating for a moment. The first paper I came in contact with, I grabbed and pulled out. Chubby fashion-lady nodded, smiled, and moved to the next Career.
I had waited until chubby fashion-lady moved away from me to even peak at my paper. Unfolding it, I saw some words neatly printed on it. "F8; Layla Vasquez" My eyes stayed on the paper and when I looked up, chubby fashion-lady was in front of the entire group again. "What is this supposed to be?" I asked. A groan came from the Career to my left and I narrowed my eyes at her. "Miss! Weren't you listening to me earlier?" She somehow managed to make her high-pitched voice sound mean and I simply shrugged in reply. "The number is the floor you are to go to and the name is your stylist," chubby fashion-lady said with a tight sigh.
So, Layla Vasquez was the psycho I would spend the rest of my day with. I must have been quickly wiped from chubby fashion-lady's mind, because she quickly moved our group to side-by-side elevators. Each Career was assigned to a different floor, which was slightly confusing. Did each stylist need a full floor to do their work? Well, I suppose I would find out soon because it was my turn to board the elevator and go to Floor 8. When I set my foot on the elevator it gave a slight drop and I stepped back off with a gasp. Chubby fashion-lady said, "You're fine, honey. It's supposed to do that!" Reluctantly, I set my foot back on the elevator and stepped completely in. I pressed the big 8, it lit up, and the doors shut.
Elevators were too confining for me and I began to become a little restless. Air, or something that sounded like it, was flying around the outside of the chamber and it hurt my ears a bit. Dizziness washed over me in waves because of the speed at which the elevator shot upwards. Backing into the corner, I leaned against the back of the elevator and as soon as it started, it was over. The elevator halted and fell a few inches followed by the door opening.
Bright lights blinded me and I bit back the urge to stay in the elevator. I walked forward, holding a hand over my forehead, and stopped once a few feet out of the elevator.
"Hello, what the hell with lights?" I called blindly into the room full of lights.
Tags: Night | Words: 1,379
Other: That is a lot of words for me... <3
Other: That is a lot of words for me... <3
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