Dryden and Tremera
District 4: Fishing
The three Erythrys walk into the town's square, older brother Lind and younger sister Tremera followed by a staggering older gentleman. The man, their father, hadn't left the house in days, nearing his first week. They looked like a typically normal family, save for the daughter, confined to a wheelchair her brother had made with his own hands and a greying eyepatch covering an eye. Seeing the communication equipment, all the cameras and microphones, Lind stopped, resting his hand on his sister's shoulder, motioning for her to stop. She did, wanting to know what he would say, since she knew there was a chance of her leaving and never coming back.
"Good luck." was all he said before walking in front of her, moving to where everyone over eighteen went, following their father. She sighed, hoping he would have said more, but in today's world, you took what you got. Wheeling herself over to her age group, getting a few solemn nods from people she knew in town, Tremera tried to calm the beating of her heart.
It was impossible, she told herself. With all these other kids here, I'm not going to be the tribute. Never. Losing herself in the cadence of her thoughts, she didn't notice when the mayor strode out onto the stage, made in a day's time. She also didn't notice the escort, a young man introduced as "Demetrius De Hurle" gaining a couple laughs from the younger crowd.
Snapping back to her thoughts as Demetrius reached his hand into the ladies' jar, announcing, "Ladies first," she held her breath with all the other girls, crossing her fingers, and hoping beyond hope it wasn't her. And then, like a gunshot fired, the escort said, "Tremera--" pausing at her hard-to-pronounce last name, but she already knew it was her, as did her fellows, who were all looking towards her with mixed looks. Confusion, fear, sadness, some even happy, that it hadn't been their name he had drawn.
Dread filling her insides, Tremera called out, as Demetrius stumbled on her name, "Erythry. It's Erythry." Her voice was loud, defiant, making itself heard by everyone, as the dark haired girl wheeled herself out into the carefully made aisles, he face resolute, not showing anything to these people, who would sacrifice children like this.
Demetrius called out the second name, getting it right at the first shot. "Dryden Chanirsil." The little boy cried out a swift, "No!", before quickly making a run for it, getting caught almost immediately by peacemakers. He was sobbing as they had to drag him up to the stage, calling out to every god he had heard of.
The peacekeepers led the two away, into town hall, allotted ten minutes, only six hundred seconds, to speak with family. As if that was enough time to say goodbye to people you'll never see again. Most likely. With Tremera's legs, she doubted she'd get through the first day. Her father didn't come, only her brother, who wept with her silently, the first time she had seen him cry.
Finally, as the ten minutes were drawing to a close, Lind said to her, "No matter what happens in there, no matter what you have to do to survive, I will still love you all the same, as if you had never left. I promise you that." He said, setting his jaw and patting her on the head gently before he was led out.
Dryden's family all came, his brothers not saying anything, his mother breaking down, and his father telling him strategies and maneuvers that would hopefully keep the small boy alive. Finally, he told Dryden to keep breathing normally, don't let yourself get worked up, else he'd have either an asthma attack, a panic attack, or a panic attack caused by an asthma attack.
Then, the ten minutes were up, and his mother, screaming and crying, shouted over the shoulder of his dad, who was trying to lead her out without making a scene, and failing, "I love you, my baby!"
