The thin paper robe that Hopper is wearing doesn't protect him from either the cold room or the inquisitive gaze of his stylist, whom he immediately designates as 'the squirrel.' Her actual name he didn't notice in the slightest, nor does he care to ask again. He just fixes his eyes at the opposite wall as she takes measurements and paws through a panel of colors in a booklet like a rodent digging in the ground, looking for something buried. 

Hopper soon finds himself given undergarments to wear as his full standing measurements are taken. This process he find tedious, but after what feels to the boy like an eternity, he is finally fully dressed for the tribute parade.

"Don't you just love it?" inquires his stylist, grabbing him by the shoulders and smiling down at him, clearly feeling pleased by her own cleverness.

The boy standing in the mirror doesn't look like Hopper, he thinks. His shoes are designed to make him appear an inch taller, and his hair is combed back in a way that he never would have done himself. Hopper never verbally protested throughout the whole process, except for when the squirrel had insisted upon using contact lenses to change his eye color, which Hopper had to be held down for. His eyes are now a weird shade of violate, having previously been an unimpressive brown. But its the formal-ness of his dress that really puts him off. A full conductor's outfit with a polished hat, a vest, white gloves, and a conductor's watch. He doesn't really recognize himself dressed in this manner. It occurs to him that he would have worn a uniform like this had his name not been picked, but as these thoughts hit him he quickly tries to push them away. Thinking about such things is too painful. 

A train conductor's outfit? If only Dhina Freight could be so lucky.

In keeping with the longstanding capital tradition of oversexing things that should not be sexed, Dhina finds herself wearing a sort of Sexy Elevator Operator's Uniform.

For fuck's sake.

Seriously?

The tributes wait while their horses and chariots are being led outside into the human corral where they stand. A few stylists occasionally make adjustments to a costume or fuss around a bit, but for the most part the tributes stand around and try not to look too embarrassed. 

The costumes are everything from elegant to ridiculous, as has become usual for these events. Some of the costumes have become the norm or expected, such as district twelve either dressing their tributes as sexy coal minors or as lumps of coal, the later being the case this year. But then there's also district one, which is usually the most elegant. This year doesn't disappoint, as their male tribute wears a leather kilt with brass bands and bracelets to represent the fine leather goods that come out of the luxury district, while the girl tribute is in a white mink dress and a headpiece with so many onyx gems that she looks visibly uncomfortable trying to hold her head up. 

The horses are being brought out from the stable and being harnessed into their chariots, and some of the tributes, the younger ones especially, pet the horses to distract themselves. 

A few other stand out costumes include a cowgirl and a raging bull getup from district ten, livestock. A ball of yarn with the front crocheted into the shape of a sexy Adonis-esq chest. This would have been tacky enough, except the boy wearing it was only twelve and looked more like he was nine; clearly the stylist had come up with this idea before the reaping. The much older girl who stands next to him smiling broadly and feeding sugar cubes to the blue-roan, beribboned Clydesdales that are to pull their chariot is much better dressed. Her entire outfit is blindingly silver, with a crown of silver wrapping around her head and bits of silver woven into her ornately braided hair. At first glance one might wonder what this has to do with district eight, textiles. But if one looks closer at her outfit, it becomes apparent that her entire gown is made up of sewing needles. Dull, of course, but this is not apparent unless looked at up close. She is the picture of a beautiful tribute. 

The district four tributes are a stark contrast. The girl tribute has been lowered into a giant mermaid tail on the chariot, leaving almost no room for the boy, who is dressed as a simple fisherman. Her ornate costume includes real scales that cover her breasts in a dark pattern, and her face is covered in smokey dark make up and her dark hair flows behind her. Unfortunately, this outfit makes her look about thirty, with too much makeup and the dark siren like get up far too engulfing too the point that it is obvious she is a young girl in an adult costume. The male tribute, on the other hand, in his simple overalls, fishing rod, and straw hat, looks like a teenager dressed as a child. Its not a good look.

There was the usual competition between the two stylists from district seven, who every year for the past five promise not to antagonize each other with their costumes. Every year they break it, of course, with one or the other dressing their tribute like a lumberjack and the other like a tree. This year the rivals had outdone themselves, with the girl dressed as chunks of wood pulp to barely cover her flat chest and privates, and the boy as a paper presser, with a sexy leather apron and a paper mold to hold up as a prop. The two stylists stand off to the side, arguing about how if one dresses their tribute up as something inanimate, the other cannot dress their tribute like someone or something that destroys it. It is the same argument every year.

A few stragglers are brought out of the prep building, including a sexy elevator operator. She is led to a chariot where two sleek, silver horses are being hitched up. Next to the chariot, as if he were overseeing the operation, stood a well dressed train conductor, his head held up at attention.

"What... Are you wearing?" demands Hopper, getting an eyeful of his fellow district tribute's costume.

Dhina takes her place beside him.

She feels vulnerable and disoriented and she just wishes that people would stop looking at her.

But that's not about to happen. She can hear the crowd waiting further down the road, roaring their approval as the District 1 chariot wheels out onto the stretch.

She can't be unseen. So she'll be funny instead. She can do funny, right? Put on a wry tone, roll her eyes, use some excessively big words for things?

"Capital folk seem to have some highly misleading impressions about my ancestral vocation."

There. Nailed it.

Hopper wants to say something and tries to open his mouth, but he is frozen by Dhina's retort and so he stands with one hand raised as if to make a point. 

Luckily, a strange noise coming from the stable catches his attention, and both Hopper and Dhina look around, curious.

A disturbance from inside the stable catches many of the tributes and their stylists off guard. Heads turn and peacekeepers are quickly called in so as to keep the tributes from investigating the noise themselves. They try to keep things going as scheduled, but the handler in charge of signaling for when the tribute carriages are to go is holding everyone up, except district two, who he waves on through in order to make space for the next carriage

"What is going on?" demands the squirrel, trying to get a view into the stable while attempting to straighten Hopper's hat at the same time. However, her attempts at getting a glimpse at the commotion is foiled by a wall of peacekeepers who block out the view of the stable and hurry the rest of the tributes onto their carriages without letting them see.

In a few moments someone is led out and brought to the back of the lineup, from the sound of it. None of the other tributes are allowed to turn around and look. Instead things are gotten back on course and after a nearly five minute lead for districts one and two, district three is allowed to progress through the tunnel and into the public eye. 

[Developer's Note: In future iterations of the Hunger Games, assemble tributes at their chariots half an hour before the parade begins and Do Not allow the lead chariot to enter the tunnel unless all tributes are accounted for.]

Everything here is weird and uncomfortable and ominous and WHY ARE HORSES SO BIG this whole setup with the parade tunnel is really setting Dhina on edge.

She watches the District 3 chariot depart. Then the District 4 chariot.

The District 5 chariot, still containing only its female tribute, gets pulled aside though? And so, all too suddenly, it is Hopper and Dhina’s turn.

The chariot is wheeled out through the tunnel and all of a sudden a loud roar meets the ears of the tributes. The sound is deafening, and the flashes of cameras and the bright lights are all too much. The music swells and the Panem Anthem blares over loud speakers, and a spotlight points at the tributes.

Don't throw up is what Hopper tells himself as he gets his first glimpse of what awaits outside of the tunnel. The music is painful and it seems too big and overwhelming. But then he remembers what his mother told him. 

'smile for the cameras.' 

Hopper forces a grin and raises one hand in a tentative, polite wave. When the spotlight hits their chariot, the boy's grin becomes genuine and he starts smiling from ear to ear. 

The music comes to a crescendo and Hopper raises his arms above his head and lets out a loud 'wohoo!..." The crowd cheers and... laughs. Hopper doesn't notice this, however. He is too lost in the moment and the sound of the cheers and applause. The boy likes the spotlight.

The girl does not like the spotlight.

The chariots reach the circle where they line up, each pulled by a team of well trained horses whose color or other attribute match the district thematically. The images of each tribute is blown up on giant screens for all of the capital to see. The missing tribute from district five wasn't on his screen, however. He was ducked down so that only the top of his costume, that being the tower of an electric plant, was visible. This left his female counterpart, a twelve year old girl wearing a dress with wide petticoats and a radiation symbol on her chest to look like a nuclear reactor cooling tower, to stand and wave awkwardly, trying not to stare down at whatever he was doing. The blaring music slowly dies down at the end of the Panem Anthem and from a giant podium raised high above the stands, the president comes forward to give his speech. 

This president is first term, a forty-five year old, ferret-like man who is known to wear ties of mink fur and be much more competent in planning than his demeanor suggests. He stands at the podium running his long fingers through his silver-dyed hair and  adjusts his note cards before speaking into the microphone. 

"Welcome tributes, to the 15th annual Hunger Games, our nation's reconciliation for attempted treachery by rebels from the thirteen districts. We thank you for your bravery and your sacrifice in your participation in this event, and may the odds be ever in your favor." He pauses and allows the crowds to cheer. After a minute of applause and cameras flashing, the president continues. "As a token to our tributes in my first year as president, I wish to grant an act of mercy to our brave tributes. During the first few games, the tributes were on their own. After five years we begun allowing supplies to be dropped in at 'feasts,' held at the cornucopia. At year ten, we decided that those supplies could be air dropped in based on the wishes of donors who wanted more action. However, this year, we wish to implement a new way in which patrons to the game can participate. And so now from this time forward, citizens who wish to 'sponsor' a tribute may pay to have specific items sent to the tribute of their choosing."

This proclamation stirs the citizens and there is applause and much murmuring; this goes on for several minutes until the president raises his hand once again.

"So I say once again, may the odds be ever in your favor."

The  chariots regroup in front of the training center.

[Developer's Note: One of the shortcomings of earlier iterations of the Hunger Games was a lack of investment on the part of the districts. This stemmed largely from the lack of interactivity. They could watch their tribute on a screen and root for them if they wanted, but it didn't really feel like something they could impact the outcome of. But this will no no longer be the case!

By giving districts a chance to buy advantages for their tributes, we create a sense of investment and responsibility. If their children die while under-equipped in the arena, it now feels like something they could have done something to change if they'd been willing to.

Naturally, this will deepen guilt within and animosity between districts, and this is the primary purpose of this rules revision. The significant potential wealth transfer from the district sponsors to the capital is just a tangential bonus.]

She knows she is hardly the first person to think this, but 'may the odds be ever in your favor' is a really dumb thing to say simultaneously to a bunch of people that will be mutually attempting to kill each other.

Dhina keeps her thoughts to herself as the chariots rattle along to the end of the parade route.

Hopper is still smiling and waving as the chariot approaches the training center, genuinely feeling excited to have just been in a parade. When the chariot comes to a stop he hops off and takes a bow, and the cameras eat it up. The flashes are blinding but the boy doesn't care, the adrenaline pumping through his blood making him feel wreckless 

After a minute of photos, escorts and mentors come to collect their tributes. The reporters make way for Euphemia and Detta, who approach the chariot with purpose.

Hopper's jubilance dies down when he sees Euphemia come close, and whinces when she puts one of her hands on his shoulder.

"Inside. Both of you."

Without additional fanfare, she ushers the children towards the training center.

The boy tribute from District 4 is already in the building, but the girl tribute--struggling to walk in her mermaid-tail dress--is lagging behind.

She tries to pick up the pace when she notices Detta, Dhina and Hopper about to overtake her.

She trips.

Hopper sees the girl in the mermaid dress trip, and no wonder, the fin is solid at the base but she had been pulled out of this part; the base was left on the chariot. The dress held her legs tightly together and made walking nearly impossible. 

Upon seeing her fall the boy breaks out of Euphemia's grip and bolts up to her, quickly taking her hand and pulling her up to face himself. "You ok?" he asks, breathlessly. She pants slightly, and but then both youths attention is caught by the flashing of the cameras.

“Thank you.”

She doesn’t look at the cameras.

”My name’s Emily.”

"I'm Hopper. District 6. Transportation," says the boy, allowing her to put an arm around his shoulder to help her balance  as they make their way into the training center.

The cameras follow behind them, stopping at the door as the tributes cross the threshold into the training center lobby.

“Well. I guess a little transportation is just what I need right now?”

Detta holds the door open for the three children, then enters the training center herself once they’re all inside.

"It seems that you do. Elevator Operator? The door." He states this flatly, smiling at Emily and giving Dhina a side lowered glance.