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Who| Cinna and the District 12 Tributes and Mentors (Effie can come too, if she wants. After the fittings anyway).
What| It's time for a new theme for District 12's style. Cinna meets with the Tributes under his care and interacts with the ones who are under Portia's to go through the fitting of their Crowning attire. This is the start of a drastic change for District 12's look.
Where| Styling area of Tribue Tower, fitting rooms.
When| After the Arena ends, with enough days between then and now to give Tributes time to recover, but not too close to the next Crowning.
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment.

Cinna was moving away from the idea that his Style needed to be inspired by the District. He still loved the fire theme, and would work that into grand entrances as much as possible, but for simple events he had a different theme in mind.

Shortly after Katniss and Peeta had both survived the Arena, the mockingjay had become a fashion statement. Capitol citizens would work it into their accessories and fashion so easily, not knowing what the symbol meant to the revolution. What Katniss had meant to the revolution.

Sometimes it felt like all of that was over, and it had driven Cinna into a bit of seclusion. Now he was done with that. Katniss was still the Mockingjay, and always would be in his eyes (whether or not she liked it), but there were other Tributes too. As well as other birds.

The fashions for each of the Tributes were inspired by different birds and presented in a sharp, sleek way that made each design aggressive in a way he hadn't played with yet. Gone were his attempts to make The Singless more approachable, to make Pruna into a sweet, little girl, to make Sandy that girl next door. He was done with all of that.

These people had been dragged into his world to be made to fight. The least he could do was make them look like warriors.

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Pruna, as usual was in a pretty bad mood by the time she was turned over to Cinna's care. She actually liked Cinna. He wasn't as stupid as most other people and despite the fact she knew next to nothing about clothing or fashion she thought his designs were infinitely better than the other stylists.

However she hated the prep team, hated how they grumbled at her for the knots in her hair and made her sit still for ages. Hated how they didn't answer her questions and just moved her around, like she wasn't even there.

Effie had told her that under no circumstance was she allowed to hit them or bite them anymore, and despite not wanting to Pruna had come to like Effie, and didn't like it when the woman was mad with her. So she behaved herself even if it made her want to claw all their eyes out and scream.

"Be fucking off." She snapped at the poor woman who had been sent to make sure Pruna actually made it to Cinna. Her hair was brushed so much it was practically shiny, she was wearing a simple but pretty dress, no shoes and simple stud earrings.

"You better be making me something warm." Were her first words to him, "It do be being stupid cold here. How do you be even living in a place this cold?"

Edited 2013-12-11 11:45 (UTC)

"Stupid cold, that's a good term for it." Sandy chuckled waving gently. She already had already been made "presentable" in a fashion, which wasn't to say she was anywhere near done if they were going to a party or event. No just that she was made up enough that a "Proper" fitting could take place.

Once she had stopped fighting the idea of being dressed up like a doll and trotted out in front of the people who watched her die every month or so Sandy found the fittings were a little more enjoyable. Portia and Cinna were part of a rare group of Capitol citizens who treated her with any dignity at all, and if she was completely honest with herself the other brightly colored, somewhat ditzy attendants were always very complimentary to her.

It was difficult for her not to soak in some of the praise, despite her bodies natural allergic reaction to pride and self confidence.

Cinna chuckled a bit. "Well, we have heaters. A lot of really good heaters," he said. The comment made Portia chuckle and then the two of them went to work. He focused on getting Pruna into her dress, while Portia got Sandy into hers. The reason they were at the fitting together was more clear when they were done.

Their dresses almost matched, except that Pruna's was brown and gold, and Sandy's was black except for a blue collar around her neck that reached up and would match the color they were going to die her hair for the Crowning.

They were covered in cloth that was shaped to look like feathers that were sleek and molded close to their bodies. The collars made their necks look longer and the way the fabric shaped their bodies made them seem older.

They were still too young to wear anything too 'sexy' but Cinna had managed to make them look sophisticated, as if they were little queens who ruled over their own worlds.

Pruna grinned, waving back at Sandy. Glad that she was here. Nothing was quite as stupid when Sandy was there. So she was on her best behavior as Cinna put the dress on her, it was tighter than anything she had worn before but she could still move in it.

Once the dress was on properly and she caught sight of herself in a mirror she grinned. She liked this dress, it was different than the little girl dresses she had worn before, but it wasn't complicated or impractical. She reached across to her arm to feel the material.

"This do be being really cool." She glanced over at Sandy and grinned even more to see that their dresses were almost the same.

Sandy had let her eyes flutter closed, a habit she'd developed from the various fittings, dressings and styling she'd endured in the past months. Sometimes she dozed off but not often. As the tickling, touching hands finished their work and she heard Pruna speak up she dared to open her eyes and see herself in the mirror.

First a peek, then wide eyed with surprise at the girl looking back at her with a solid stance and proud shoulders.

Who was this girl?

"Whoa."

She looked back to Pruna and found herself just as amazed by what the proper outfit could do for a girl. She'd always thought of Pruna as younger then her, though her age was unclear to Sandy. But as she looked now there was a new level of strength added to what significant power Sandy already knew Pruna possessed.

She was compelled to draw these things, and then paint them.

Turning her gaze back to the mirror she dared a rare smile. They had become so few and far between since her arrival here that she was at first positive she'd forgotten what her smile looked like.

But no, this was a new smile. A confident, proud smile.

"Really...really cool." She agreed.

Something was going to be different about this fitting, and the Signless knew it before he even set foot in the room. Part of the prep today had been to sharpen his horns to points instead of rounded nubs, and his previously-blunt triangular teeth had received the same treatment (he had almost cut himself absently running his tongue over them). Before now everything had been about softening him up, about making him appear smaller -- even smaller than he already was -- and this was anything but that. Of course, he assumed it had to do with what he'd done in the previous arena, and the thought wasn't particularly pleasing to him. But he trusted his team and he trusted Cinna and if this would smooth over that blunder, then fine. It wasn't like you could market a murderer as soft or gentle, anyway.

"So," he said by way of greeting, "no more 'approachable', I take it?"

Cinna nodded at the question. "Does that bother you?" he asked after a moment as he started to unwrap the clothes he had brought. He helped the Signless into them, carefully wrapping his Tribute in the carefully crafted garment.

"A little," he admitted, helping Cinna dress him, inspecting the outfit as it took shape. As he had been expecting, it was very different -- all shades of ashy blue and shiny bronze, except for the splash of bright red at his throat. And it was so sharp, not loose-fitting or overlarge like they'd been doing before at all. Even the leggings -- he would always insist on leggings -- had artful tears in them. Everything about this outfit was dangerous.

"I don't know how I feel about being seen as aggressive. But I can't exactly protest, can I? The entirety of Panem saw me cull two people." He shrugged hopelessly. The feathers at his throat and shoulders shone as they moved.

Cinna's jaw tightened just a bit. "You aren't the only one," he said. "That I'm taking this turn with. All of District 12 will be joining you." He made sure the collar laid right and then ran his hands over the Singless's shoulders.

For a moment, he just looked at the clothes, ignoring his Tribute's face. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hide his emotions well enough just then. When he finally did look up at the Singless's eyes, his own were carefully enigmatic. "I'm sorry for all of this," he said then. "I know it's got to be a lot to deal with."

He wondered how much Cinna knew, about what things had been like since he'd arrived back in the Capitol. How it had taken him ages just to leave his room, and even longer to leave the suites. How he'd nearly collapsed permanently under all the guilt and the self-hate and the hopelessness and the only reason he wasn't dead now, permanently dead, was because Karkat was harsh enough to tell him truthfully how selfish that would be.

"Yes. Yes, it is." He gave a thin smile. "It just piles up more the longer I'm here. But I'm glad that it isn't just me, that it isn't because of what I did. I was wondering how the feathers fit in to that."

But if they weren't in some way symbolic of what happened in the arena, what were they about?

Cinna smiled a bit. Then, after stepping back to admire the way that the Singless looked, he thought he might as well explain. "Before you were brought here, before any of the the Tributes from other worlds were here, Katniss wore a pin into the Arena. It had a Mockingjay on it. That's a bird that is a mix of the mockingbird and one of our jabber jays. The Capitol made jabber jays during the uprising to spy on the rebels. After that whole mess, they were released into the the wild and mated with the mockingbird," he cleared his throat a bit, letting the Signless know that he knew he was rambling a bit.

"For a while, the Mockingjay became a bit of a fab. I'm hoping to recapture a bit of that by assigning you each your own birds." He shrugged. "I guess I stopped seeing the point of playing with coal and fire when none of you are actually from the mines."

"Ah," the Signless said, mulling that over in his mind. It made sense, really, to try and recapture Katniss's success. He'd watched her Games recap enough times with Karkat to know just how much the Capitol adored her and Peeta.

"Does my bird have a story as well?"

"It's called the Luzon Bleeding-Heart," Cinna explained. "It's a type of dove." He fixed a bit of The Singless's hair, molding it carefully around his horns.

"Do you know anything about doves?" he asked. "Perhaps choosing one of them for you means I haven't completely abandoned the idea that you're more at peace than people want to think you are."

"I confess I don't. Not more than that they're a type of featherbeast," he said. "Are they a symbol of peace, for humans?"

There was still a lot about human culture he didn't know, after all. The simpler things he could pick up, but metaphor and reference ingrained in specific cultural things were not as easy.

Cinna nodded. "They are. Though this one is probably extinct. We can't really go back to their habitat and know for sure."

"And you think dressing me as one will make it seem like I'm still who I was when I got here?"

He looked at himself in the mirror, watching the way the feathers caught the light. He certainly didn't look like the same person. He didn't much feel like the same person, either.

"No," Cinna said. "I need you to be better than that," he explained after a moment. It wasn't just about who he had been and who he felt like he was becoming to Cinna. It was the statement that had to be made.

Still, there was a tinge of worry in his eyes as he considered all of the ways that The Signless might dread what had been happening to him.

"Better than that," the Signless repeated, his brows drawing down as he mulled it over. "Better how? I'm sorry that I'm asking so many questions, Cinna, I just want to be sure I understand. Nothing lately has been better."

Cinna put his hands on the Singless's arms, to show that he understood how difficult this all could be. "Please don't worry about asking me questions," he said. "There may be some things I can't tell you, but asking is never a bad thing."

He felt terrible about all of this, and for a moment it showed in his face. He seemed tired, and worn, but he hid it quickly enough. "It's all about putting on a show," he said. "You need to put on the best possible show."

"Right." He didn't seem much enthused by the idea. "A show. A show to inspire the people who like to watch me die for their amusement."

It was probably the most obviously anti-Capitol thing he'd said since he got back from the arena or would say until the next, but Cinna was one of the few people he trusted not to care. Or at least not to tattle.

"You'll understand if I'm not really excited about doing anything for them."

He wasn't really familiar with the districts, after all. What he knew of those who were paying attention to whatever show he'd be putting on was solely what he'd experienced in the Capitol.

Peeta was Portia's 'Number One!', as her assistants always told him, something that Peeta found pretty funny. He had expected that once more new people came in, that they'd all be sharing stylists, and that wasn't a problem. She never dressed him in anything too crazy. Suits in soft colors, then hard, depending on the season. Uncomfortable clothes tempered with comfortable ones.

But it was funny, that Portia did defer a little to Cinna. A change from the past tributes, the ones before the 74th, Peeta knew. But now it was all about working together. And Portia, Peeta, Cinna, and Katniss were a team. But Portia had only given him some basics, and then told him Cinna had the rest, and that she'd see him when he was done.

That worked too. "Hey, Cinna." His voice was better then it was right after the arena, but still, getting your throat clawed out by a raging troll? Tended to leave some emotional damage that was bad enough for it to become physical thing.

"Portia told me to come see you."

Cinna's smile lit up his calm face for a moment when he saw Peeta. Portia had darkened his hair a bit and spiked it up just a touch. It wasn't anything to make him stop being the sweet-faced boy that the Captiol knew him as, but it was enough to harken to the image of the bird that Cinna had in mind for him. Other than that, Portia has only put him in his under shirt and leggings, it was Cinna who would have the coat and suit to put on him.

"Yes," he said. "I have the rest of your Crowning attire. I had an idea for the entire District, and luckily Portia lets me get away with my crazy ideas." He smirked just a bit, as if he would never doubt Portia's faith in him.

As he started to unwrap Peeta's clothes he thought he might as well check on the boy too. "How are you holding up?"

So long as he wasn't being injected with anything, or forced to wear really skimpy clothing, Peeta was fine with it. Paint him, fix his hair (and then have Katniss fix it later), whatever they felt they needed to do. Peeta really went with whatever was going on in regards to the stylists.

"Portia lets you get away with a ton of stuff. Or that's what she tells me, and I can't see her lying that much." Peeta only had to look at the clothes and shoes the women had to wear, and he never complained about his own clothes.

Ah, there the question was. "I'm doing all right. I'm..." Peeta swallowed hard. "I think we all thought that Victors don't go back into the arena. So when it... I don't know. My speaking is getting better, the nightmares, not so much."

Cinna was quiet for a moment and then, finally. "It was really hard to watch you two be back in there for a lot of people," he explained. "You changed the Game, so watching you have to struggle again was... difficult for your fans."

He spoke carefully, and while he didn't list himself as one of the 'fans' bluntly, it was still implied. Katniss was the one he was betting on, but he felt something for Peeta too.

He was sure that once the blood started to run, they couldn't tear their eyes away from the screen, no matter how hard it was for them to see it all.

"We did, didn't we?" Peeta smiled crookedly, looking down at the ground. They had changed the game, at least that one time. They'd done something that had never been done before, and no one would ever forget that.

"It was a struggle, but in the end..." He trailed off for a second, before looking back to Cinna, determination in his eyes. "In the end, I did exactly what I'll do if I have to again."

Peeta was betting on her, too.

Despite everything, Cinna managed a small smile at the determination in his eyes. It was comforting, in a weird way. It wasn't like Cinna wanted to see Peeta give his life away so easily, but there was the fact that Katniss could still inspire such thoughts and actions in people.

Betting on her meant more to Cinna than just expecting her to win the Games. There was so much more at stake for him and the people of the world.

"I think a lot of people can say that."

It hadn't been as easy as he says it is. There was this sheer panic moment, where he saw the end of his life before it happened. It froze in front of him. It could only have been a second, maybe two. But that slight hesitation that had to be pushed back, as far as possible.

Peeta would never talk about it. "I hope that maybe my example will... maybe. I think that would be hoping for too much." He smiled. "But Katniss is special. To a lot of people, especially me." An echo of his words before. Katniss was special, and now that they knew it all, that just meant Peeta would do whatever he could.

He could be the background to making her shine. "So." Peeta coughed. "All I know is we're doing something with birds."

Cinna chuckled a bit. "Yes," he said. "I hate to admit it, but it's inspired from Katniss too." He managed to look a little embarrassed. "I felt like we should ride the Mockingjay trend before it complete dies out."

Of course it was, and Peeta laughed, shaking his head. "I don't want that trend to die out. I'll be honest, whatever thing we might be doing, so long as it isn't being set on fire, is good for me."

He grinned. "Don't get me wrong, it worked out great. But if you had all of us standing outside a train, ready to go, and on fire? I could see a bad nickname come of it." Peeta could see it now.

'The Blazing Inferno makes it's way to District Twelve!'

"Anyway... so Katniss is a Mockingjay still. Please tell me I'm not a pigeon."

And Prim? What would he make Prim look like? She wasn't a warrior... in the traditional sense. She wasn't fighting anyone in the arena. No. Her battles were fought by keeping her face still, not showing how she really felt. Making everyone feel like she was okay, that she only needed what help they could give them - without making them feel like she didn't need help, that they weren't needed in her lives.

It wasn't that she didn't want to look like a warrior, to draw strength from her clothes. But she couldn't afford to look like a warrior.

And Cinna didn't even try to make her into one. After he's done with the Tributes, he brings her coat to her personally. It's warm looking, and fluffy. Not in a cheesy, forced kind of way though. It's soft, comforting, and a little reminiscent of a duckling.

"Sorry it took me so long to get this to you," he said when he unwrapped it for her. It had the pockets they had discussed, hidden among all of the fluff. "I've been busy."

She smiled, nice and wide- reaching out to gently touch it. IT's fuzzy. It's nice. She ha to smile when she touches it. She likes it very, very much.

Cinna smiled at her reaction, pleased that she liked it. "Let's see how it looks on you? I might have to take it in a bit..." He had actually gotten the measurements perfectly, but it was impossible to tell for sure when it was hanging up and not on her body.

She nodded, quick and eager, trying to draw the fabric up and over her head. SHe was just trying it on, not actually getting changed into it - she hadn't quite considered that doing this might interfere with the fit...

New clothes, form fitting clothes, were still relatively new for her.

Cinna let her try it on, enjoying the look on her face and how much she seemed to enjoy it. He was used to fitting people who had a mission with this clothes, who needed them to survive. Watching someone who just seemed to enjoy them was honestly refreshing and sweet.

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