CHAPTER FOUR!

TRIBUTE PARADE.

ROSALIE SITS NERVOUSLY IN THE LARGE ROOM AS SHE AWAITS THE ARRIVAL OF HER STYLIST. She knows the stylists often dress their tributes up in stupid outfits that have to do with their districts — unfortunately for her that means she'll probably end up being a fish or something like that.

When the door opens up, she looks over and expects to see a middle aged man or woman but instead is greeted with a younger girl. She doesn't look to be a day over twenty.

"You must be Rosalie. I'm Lila, your stylist. I'm sure you're very aware of the tribute parade coming up today and it's my job to make you look good for it," Lila speaks almost kindly, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder which better exposes her eccentric make.

"It's nice to meet you," Rosalie responds as nicely as she can, her resentment for her situation fighting to come out.

"But you wish you never met me? Don't worry, I get it. I promise I'm not here to spew on about how lucky you are to represent your District because from what I've seen, it doesn't always end well. I will talk to you about outfits and make-up and hair, that's all,"

Rosalie feels a little more relived than she was prior, happy that she won't have to share her life story with this woman. She can only imagine what some of the other tributes are going through right now, having to plaster fake smiles on their faces and pretend that they're happy to be here — happy to be awaiting death.

"Now, District Four has a lot to do with oceans, yes? Unfortunately for your district partner it is more than likely he'll be dressed as something like a flounder but, uh, that's not really me style. So, feast your eyes," Lila speaks as she walks over to a covered clothes rack in the corner.

Rosalie watches on as the woman pulls the fabric away and she's met with a dress — a beautiful one at that. It's long in length, brushing against the floor as it flows in the light breeze caused by the air conditioning. She takes a step forward and runs her hand over the violet material, the few sequins scattered across the surface coming in contact with the skin of her fingers. It's light, the bottom made from something that seems almost paper thin. She cannot fathom how somebody could have possibly made an outfit like this.

"It's beautiful," The brunette breathes and Lila watches with a small smile, satisfaction appearing within her features.

"Thank you and you will make it look even more beautiful when you wear it. Come on, let's get to it,"

Unfortunately for the District Four girl, it didn't just involve slipping into the dress and throwing some shoes on like she would at home. No, she had her legs waxed, her eyebrows shaped and her hair lightly trimmed. She cannot complain about the hair, however, it's been beautifully curled and parts of it braided down the side.

Blush adorns her skin, both real and cosmetic, accompanied by a light layer of eye shadow and lipstick. Her real eyelashes have been layered with fake ones and for the first time in her life she feels truly beautiful. This only heightens when she finally puts the outfit on, it fitting snugly around her figure.

With a quick glance in the mirror, she hardly recognises herself, her face to clean and proper. Back home, she would spend most of her time outside and accumulate dirt smudges upon her lightly toned skin — something her mother often chastised her about, she didn't like when they brought dirt into the house.

"Wonderful," Lila comments as she surveys the younger girl who is still in awe at what she'd been able to do. "You look beautiful,"

"Thank you,"

There's a sharp knock at the door and Rosalie knows it's time to go. When she moves, Lila gently grabs her arm and she turns her head back.

"People often associate beauty with fragility. Prove them wrong,"

Being around the other tributes for the first time is extremely intimidating. More than half of them tower over her in height whilst others just looks straight up menacing. She spots Zachariah in the far corner and hastily walks over to where he and Mags are standing.

"Hi," Her voice is almost a soft squeak when she's within range, the male tribute turning to look at her.

His outfit isn't quite as bad as Lila mentioned but it's still rather odd – a suit covered in what she can only assume are what's meant to be fish scales. His hair is styled so it's lightly sticking up in several directions.

"Hello," Zachariah's voice is kinder than the first time they had a conversation but there is still an underlying hardness to it. "Finnick is on his way down,"

Rosalie nods her head and takes a deep breath, her eyes now fully surveying the field of tributes in front of her. Almost instantly, her gaze is met by one of the career tributes, his eyes vicious and cruel and it makes her shiver lightly. A hand presses against her shoulder and she turns her head to meet Zachariah's gaze.

"Don't pay any attention to them. They think because they're from higher districts that they have to right to act as if they're better than us," He tries to assure but it's obvious it's not really his thing.

"He's right. Ignore them," Finnick's voice can now be heard as he walks over to them, giving the career a distasteful look as he does so. "They're just trying to get under your skin,"

His eyes finally land on the smaller brunette and a smile lights up his face, slightly amused at the blush that coats her cheeks when she notices him looking.

"You look gorgeous," He compliments before shifting his gaze to Zachariah and snorting. "Man, I see my stylist still hasn't gotten any better,"

"You're telling me," Zachariah grumbles. "I look like a freaking fish,"

A light giggle falls from her lips as her best friend laughs beside her, Mags smiling behind him. The boy who's being laughed at doesn't seem the slightest bit amused until a small smile flicks up.

The small group walk over to the cart that they will be riding on throughout the ceremony and they climb on, Rosalie needing some help from both Finnick and Zachariah due to the dress she's wearing.

The cart jolts and she has to stop herself from falling forward, steadying herself just in time for when they make their way out into the crowded building. The cheers almost deafen her, so loud and quite frankly, horrifying.

The bottom of her dress flows in the wind, her hair following suit. In fact, it begins to almost swirl as they travel forward and she can see many pairs of eyes on her.

"Our District Four tributes! We have a fish-" Claudius says the first part with a light chuckle. "And— well I'm not quite sure. How does violet associate with the ocean?"

"I'm not one hundred percent sure myself. But my, that is a beautiful outfit," Caesar responds. "I'll have to ask her myself in the interview in a few days,"

They stop in front of the President who stands proudly above them. "Tributes, we welcome you. We salute the courage and your sacrifice. And we wish you Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour,"

As she looks around at the other tributes in their ridiculous outfits, she cannot help but truly realise the odds are more than likely the furthest thing from in her favour.

NOTE!

Hi! Thank you for reading! The purple/violet dress is of importance and has a lot to do with the title of the book. Hurricanes can actually be violet in colour and my thinking with this is that Hurricane's actually form and gain most of their strength from the ocean — they also lose a significant amount of it when they reach land. So i thought it was a cool detail!

Thank you so much for stopping by! Hope you enjoyed it!