Training Outfit Hunger Games Novels & Stories

Callie headed for the spring with her stomach in twits. She'd changed into her training clothes at elder Nicolas’ house. It was a simple fitted pants and a sleeveless tunic that allowed for easy movement. The fabric was light and breathable, which she supposed was good for what was coming, even if the thought of getting into that freezing water made her want to turn around and run back the way she'd come.

/ /No, I just get amazed by you every time/ His face lifted back into its usual soft grin, and he went back to his discussion with Jackson. At least we had a mind-link now. At the far end of the dining hall were the heavy rucksacks packed with clothing, supplies, maps and sleeping equipment. I had a green shirt just like the men, the black cloak and hiking boots. /Do you have any more surprises for me then?/ he asked me again. Smiling I joked back with /You already knew I was the best one here. Anders didn’t./

We reached the arena’s door and I pulled on my jacket waiting as Aurora took the handle to pull it open. As usual eyes fell on me but it was nothing new seeing as I was used to it. Today, unlike the party where they had all seen me glammed up, I was dressed in my pack’s – Blue Claw – warrior outfit. It was what I had to fight in. Fitted brown leathered pants, armored straps attached to the sleeves of my shirt and a jacket where I could hide my knives should in case I would need them in a fight.

D; Mom and Dad says thanks. Was she being real? Were my parents grateful for something that I did? And why was I even concerned by it? I shook my head and dropped the device back on the table, refocusing my gaze on the large mirror in front of me. My battle gear had come in a while earlier this morning, it was a jumpsuit kind of style with tiny straps and it was made with snakeskin, for easier shifting. The competition would begin in an hour but the nerves were already starting to rise. Lord Hansen hadn't met me yet and Jessica was nowhere in view, I doubt that he had found out that his plan had foiled or that I had captured his goons.

"You always hide under those heavy clothes, Milo. But tonight is special. For Elena’s sake, and for ours, we need to show the Vances that this family is a collection of treasures." Milo retreated behind the screen. He stripped off his armor—the baggy hoodie and the loose jeans—and felt the cool air hit his skin. As he slid into the cream trousers, his breath hitched. The fabric clung. It hugged the wide, feminine flare of his hips and smoothed over the "bouncy" curves of his rear in a way that made him feel utterly exposed.

*** TEN HOURS AGO After I shower and dress in a pair of vintage-style overalls over a white crewneck, paired with my Nike shoes, I grab my tiny backpack and triple-check myself in the mirror, easily discovering tons of deformities. With the scratches and a bandage on my neck, I look even more poor quality. I have to swallow unnecessarily before earning the very slim courage to step out of my room. Caden is waiting in the living area. He is outfitted in two simple fabrics: fitted camouflaged pants pulled a couple of inches above his ankles and a fitted plain long-sleeve T-shirt that punctuates every muscle of his trunk.

Guys like him always aim to win. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes, forcing myself to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I felt surprisingly refreshed. Almost wired. I washed up quickly and got into my school's combat uniform—a high-support sports bra underneath and a fitting jumpsuit made specifically for field combat. I also pulled my hair up into a high ponytail for easier movement. Before leaving the room, I took one last look at the girl in the mirror. She was toned, tall, light on her feet.

I groaned, throwing the warm covers aside. The maids didn't give me a single second to breathe. Stripping me out of my silk nightgown, they shoved me roughly into tight, flexible training gear. Black compression leggings, a breathable sports tank, and thick combat boots. It was purely functional, offering zero padding for what was about to happen. Grabbing my arms, the guards didn't wait for me to tie my boot laces properly. They hauled me out into the dark, freezing hallway before I could even brush my hair.

He was already fully arrayed in the brilliant gold team leathers of the Crown Coffee Academy, his face heavily painted with formal pack cosmetics and his hair slicked back with expensive fat to mirror his high-born lineage. Mirelle, true to her venomous nature, had provided me with nothing but a coarse, unornamented linen tunic from the lower servants' bins. No oils were given to my hair, which I had simply bound up with a strip of raw leather, leaving my face completely bare to the wind. I looked like an unranked stray straight out of the outer trenches.