not great but it's done. aria district 11 art later maybe probably not
Aria was a vision of shiny bells and glittering fabric as she stood tall on her sleigh. She was sure that nobody would notice that the rims of her eyes were red. ❆☃❆ Ari had cried for the first time since her reaping the night before. She had cried until she couldn't breathe and then she had cried some more. The stylist doing her hair had held her and waited patiently for her to be able to speak again. She held onto him with all she could, forcing her face into his fur. She knew he was part of the problem, of course. She didn't even know his name, and he didn't want to know hers. But when all she could do was cry, all she could do about it was seek solace in the one place that offered it. Ari hadn't wanted to start crying. She had wanted to feel okay. She had wanted to spend every minute that was left in her short life feeling okay. But wasn't that how Lyra had gone? Didn't she want to avoid that? Ari's thoughts had spiraled like the fake snow around her spiraled now. She had never found the answers, she had simply been too tired to keep thinking. When she had been able to compose herself, she lied and told the stylist that she was self conscious about her scar and afraid of his sleeveless design. He had laughed at her. Chucked and smiled and put a paw on her shoulder and told her that he would make her look perfect. ❆☃❆ Ari certainly looked perfect now. Her outfit fit in well with the rest of the parade- especially the rest of the Flame-Chase. The stylists must have coordinated for them to all have golden blood in the design. It highlighted her scar, dripping from it the same way the actual blood had the day she had been hurt. If the scar was truly what she had been upset about, she would be much happier now. It made her look good without trying to cover up everything that was wrong with her. It made her flaws gorgeous. If only the scar had truly been what upset her, then Ari would be happy now. But it could never be just that. It was the way the horses reminded her of home and the way she would never be allowed to touch them. The way she didn't even want to touch them because they would never be her home. The way her dress fit perfectly and made her feel pretty but reminded her of dressing up at home. Everything her was nicer and fancier then home, but it would never be home. Not that she had a home to go back to. ❆☃❆ A rosetted tabby from District Eleven was toward the back of the parade. She didn't particularly catch the eye- the golden blood had been done forward and backward by now, and the Capitol was sick of it. The bells that jingled every time she moved were charming, but nothing special. But she smiled and waved and performed just as well as any other tribute. Maybe she could be someone's underdog favorite.
