The 50th Annual Hunger Games

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  1. The 50th Annual Hunger Games

    It is the day of the reapings.

    You wake up, and your mother insists you dress in your best clothing, a meal, either meager, or plentiful, sitting on the kitchen table. You must hurry if you're to be ready by the time the reaping begins.

    Everyone gathers in the Square, and after registering, stands in clusters with other children of their age group.

    A woman, your escort, walked up onto the stage, approaching the microphone in between the two glass reaping balls. As she reaches into the glass ball for your gender, you glance back at your mother, heart thudding in your chest. It probably won't be you.

    The escort calls out a name.

    It's yours.

    @Fernweh -
    @SinisterOblivion007 -
    @Quiet Musician -
    @Shadicmaster -
    @Raven -
    @Lizzy -
    @lethal_fever -
    @Megilwen -
    @Hayverly -​
    #1 Rainjay, Jul 11, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 15, 2014
  2. Edward Lovesky

    Edward was unmistakably bored. Before the names were even called he raised a hand in the air.

    "Excuse me. I would like to volunteer!" Edward said loudly and rather clearly.

    There were gasps in the crowd. Most of them were the saddened looks of those he once called professor. His parents looked the most surprised and insisted that Edward didn't know what he was signing up for, but that was a lie. With an intellect like Edward's he definitely knew what he was signing up for. He gave his parents a cold glare before walking up to take his place as the male tribute for district three. What did any of them care that he might die for them? He was there to prove that this was just a sick game that justified the killing of innocent children as entertainment for the rich.

    "0101 0011 0110 1101 0110 1001 0110 1100 0110 0110 0101," Edward muttered to himself before smiling in a sort malicious way at the crowd.

    (OOC: The above is binary code for the letters S.m.i.l.e. In other words, Smile)

    Tsutey Windrider

    "Yahweh Windrider!"

    Tsu'tey's family gripped their youngest son and held him tightly. There was a pain that emanated from them so powerfully it moved those around them to tears. Yahweh broke down into tears. There was no way he would survive the Hunger Games. Tsu'tey took a deep breath and kept his voice steady as he spoke to his brother.

    "You must promise me you will take the burden providing nourishment to the family," Tsu'tey whispered to Yahweh in the language that only they knew.

    Yahweh looked up at his brother horrified. Before his family could object, Tsu'tey walked up.

    "Me. I volunteer," Tsu'tey said as he walked up.

    "Tsu'tey no! Please," Kalini yelled after him, but the guards prevented her from getting any closer to oldest brother.

    Tsu'tey's parents were sad, but they had never been prouder. Baruk smiled sadly at his son and muttered a prayer to him wishing him the best on this horrid journey.

    "To protect our own," Baruk whispered, "That is what it means to be a Windrider. Never forget why it is you are fighting."
  3. Rowan Tahney Waking in the small cot she called a bed in the morning, the light pouring from the small window on the wall across from her over the floor, Rowan opened her eyes to greet the morning of the reapings. The morning where thousands of children would gather in the concrete squares of their districts, facing death as they looked up with small, glistening eyes at the stage before them. The morning where twelve children would be selected for their utter doom in the event they called the Hunger Games. Some part of Rowan couldn't comprehend why people had children anymore. They only lived horrible lives in the lesser districts with the threat of the Games looming over their heads until adulthood, and in the upper ones, they spent their entire childhoods training for the ultimate fight to the death, with no other real purpose but to try, and fail, to achieve the Capitol's screwed sense of 'glory'. The entire ordeal made her sick to her stomach.

    Still, she had to endure yet another reaping, crossing her fingers behind her back and desperately wishing and hoping that her younger sister didn't get chosen. The girl was only thirteen, only on her second reaping, and although she had yet to take tessarae, or even need to, it hasn't been before unheard of twelve year old children being picked regardless. Some thought that the Capitol cheats and puts in extra names just to spite the districts, just for further entertainment. Rowan would be damned before another one of her sisters was reaped.

    Yes, the year before her elder sister had been picked, the year right before she would have been free from this curse. And she almost won, too. But she was felled by the Career pack, her body torn right open by the brutal teenagers. It sickened her, too, that the upper districts enjoyed this bloodshed and combat. They enjoyed training for these events, and desired to volunteer. There were times when ten or fifteen children would volunteer all at once. Organizing who would go into the games took upwards of a half hour sometimes. And they would zoom in afterwards on the faces of the volunteers who were sent home; they were angry, upset, crying. But not because their lives were saved. Because they didn't get a chance for 'glory'.

    Rowan roused herself from these thoughts and climbed to her feet, making her way to her sisters cot across the room. She shook the smaller girl awake gently; the young girl only looked at her with her doe eyes before nodding and sitting up. The girl didn't show a sign of fear, but Rowan knew she was petrified. That's the way her sibling was. Quiet, stoic, even, but a wave of turmoil inside. She helped the girl dress in her best clothes- another sick tradition the districts shared- before the two made their way out into the small kitchen. Their parents had prepared a fine meal, and they each ate in silence. Neither of them brought up the loss they encountered the year before.

    And before they knew it, the reaping had begun. The parents had to stand behind the rope barriers, clinging hands and watching as the Peacekeepers checked in each child before sending them off to their age groups. After every child had arrived, the reaping would begin, and Peacekeepers would begin to roam the streets, knocking on the door of any occupied household. There was no excuse for failing to attend the reaping. If you were sick enough, you would be allowed to remain at home, perhaps. But otherwise, you had to come and watch. It was a public spectacle after all.

    Rowan sighed anxiously, pulling on the sleeves of her blouse as the preppy escort climbed atop the stage. Their escort was nothing unique, compared to the other districts, but was still equally annoying. She flipped back her long, fake, plastic hair and smiled at the crowd before announcing herself and the games. They should be excited, she said. It was the fiftieth Quarter Quell. Everyone should be anticipating the games! And they should all feel proud for a chance to enter. Rowan failed to muster up this emotion; she could only feel hate. Pure hatred, from deep in her gut.

    "Ladies first!" The escort called before turning to the large glass ball full of white paper slips. Rowan cast a glance towards the form of her younger sister, leaning forward onto her toes, wide eyes staring at the stage. Rowan wished she could hold onto her hand, but the Peacekeepers would beat her to the ground first. She tore her gaze away and focused back up at the escort on stage as she pulled the paper open and held it before her.

    "Grace Lawson!" The escort called out into the mic. A wave of relief rushed through Rowan. It wasn't her. She was safe. It was-

    She froze. It was Grace. Her best friend. How could she have forgotten about her? They were supposed to meet in the morning before the reaping, they were supposed to-

    The fifteen year old girl had already begun walking stiffly up towards the stage, her brown hair tied up in ribbons and curls on her head. It must have taken her mother hours to prepare. Rowan watched as she scanned the crowd, searching.. searching for her.

    Suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore. The hatred from her gut poured out into actions, into words. Rowan found herself tearing through the crowd, slamming past the Peacekeepers lining the crowds of children, and called out- "I volunteer!"

    Ash Livell There was only one thing Ash wanted most from the world. It was the thing she had trained for for almost her entire life, the thing that was ingrained into her body, her blood, her very DNA. Since birth, this was the only goal set out for her. The dream her parents held and desired for her to carry out. They had both failed at their chance; now they wanted their baby girl to take a shot at it. And Ash didn't mind trying. She had taken hold of their dreams and goals and ambitions and made them her own since youth, growing up under the mantra of "Win or go home. Win, or die." She had always planned on taking it the full way, taking her dreams to the full extent possible. And this was her chance. One of her last chances. She felt she was ready for the task.

    She could win.

    Standing in the crowd of children, many of them with knowing smirks and leery grins, she kept herself composed, eyes turned upwards towards the woman on the stage before them. The stage in her district was left up permanently, never requiring to be built and erected before the reapings. It was there for show, a reminder of what many of the children around her trained for. It was a promise. She so wished to stand on that stage, looking down at the people she grew up with, smiling with the knowledge that she could win. She would win. She knew it could happen. She just did.

    So when a small girl, of perhaps the age of fourteen, was called from the stage, Ash called out before the girl could even begin to sort through the shock.

    "I volunteer!" She exclaimed, raising her hand into the air to be seen before stepping out into the concrete path cleared by the Peacekeepers. Several voices cried out after hers, volunteering as well, but it was clear they were all too late. She made it first. She followed the path up the steps with a triumphant grin, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she stood beside the escort, back straight, smile broad- everything her father had taught her to do. The escort simply accepted it as is, and continued on with the reaping. It was normal for her. She didn't even ask if Ash held a relation to the small girl it was so common. Many young children didn't fret about the reapings here; most of them were replaced with volunteers within moments of their names being called. Ash supposed if she were that child, she'd feel grateful. But now that she had the opportunity in her hands, she would probably destroy anybody who tried to take it from her.

    That was a mantra she probably should save for the Games.

    The meetings with her family, and her friends, were brief. A few minutes each, for them to remind her of tips and tricks she learned, to wish her luck, to congratulate her. A boy, just a year older than her, arrived, pecking her on the lips and giving a knowing smile before leaving her with a rose. Just a small, simple rose. She held it in her fingers carefully, looking at the thorns until the Peackeepers arrived, towing her onto the train that would bring her to the Training Center. To her future.
  4. She walked in order like she had done every year. 'The reaping once more we have to walk this path. Once more they'll call out a name and say may the odds forever be in your favor but of course it's for show. Once more the poor boy and girl family's will be in tears. But this year will be different no matter who is called I will volunteer. I don't care any more I'm tired of being beaten to a pulp just for being alive. I'm ready i no longer care if I die in the games but I'll at least try to survive for as long as I can.' As she thought all of this the reaping began. They called one of her attackers but still she raised her hand and said as loud as she could. "I volunteer as tribute."

    Her mother shocked and cried out. "No Astrid don't." But before she could say anything further the peace keepers keep her quit. Astrid walked up onto the platform where now everyone could see. the woman who had called the other girls name said "Why deary what is your name?" "I am Astrid Gaynor." She had said. "Well there you have it Astrid Gaynor is the female tribute of district five." Astrid glanced at her parents and saw her mother in tears but her father just stared. 'I wonder if they'll see me off.' Her hand went to her locket and griped for a second before releasing it. She fallowed the peace keepers and escort so she could see her family and friends if she had any friends. To her surprise both her father and mother did come to send her off. It was short but she thought it was sweet of them to see that they cared. Her father hugged her and her mother hugged her than kissed her on the forehead and said, "Astrid if you stand a chance please try and come back to us. We love you." Astrid held her tears but never did let her eyes of her mother as the peace keepers came to escort them out and right before her mother was gone Astrid whispered, "I love you guys too." Once they had left she was led to the train to head for the capital for her training before the hunger games.
  5. "You do not have to volunteer my darling." The voice of Goldie's mother was soft, an attempt to be soothing as she watched the girl brush her hair. Instead of responding, Goldie set her brush down and stood before moving to the beautifully designed reaping gown laid on her bed. She and her mother had gone just days before to a luxury dress maker, a tradition for the most well to do families. Goldie was shown the best materials they had to offer; reds, blues, greens, sapphires, and violets. Eventually after many discussions on the color best suited for her skin and eyes, a rich emerald and shimmering gold was selected. On the word of Goldie. Of course the dressmaker did a fabulous job, and she had better for the amount of funds the Lockes had put into creating the dress. In fact hers was one of the most anticipated gowns, mostly due to her socialite of a mother's ridiculous tendency to exaggerate. "Would you like some help sweetie?" With a even sigh and folded hands, Goldie turned to her mother and finally spoke. "Get out, I don't want to tell you twice." Silver looked shocked when her daughter spoke so coldly to her. Opening her mouth to speak, the woman thought better of it, "Well, hurry it up darling. We leave in ten to make an appropriate entrance." Insufferable.

    After Goldie zipped the gown she loosed her hair around her shoulders and cleared her throat. All the bells and whistles were accounted for, each and every single one counted in the reflective glass of the mirror. The impeccably tailored overly expensive dress. One. Beautifully curled golden hair. Two. A 24 karat gold emerald encrusted hair comb. Three. Platinum family crest ring. Four. Well contrasted heels in a forest green and of course crystal adornments. Five. Goldie stood there assessing the dress and every single detail, that's when she realized the most important detail. With a balled fist, she walked over to her night stand to pick up the long and delicate chain. A specially made trinket from her father the night before. An apology for the fact that he wouldn't be there for the day of her reaping or volunteering. It was a six second hourglass, one she had once asked for when she was younger. After making sure no other girl but her would be able to volunteer, he asked his beloved daughter to accept her token for the games. Everything was planned, right from the start. Six.

    - - -

    There were drinks and food all laid out for the special event that had swept over District One yet again, every child under the age of 18 was dressed for the occasion. One of the perks of being in a wealthy district is The Reaping becomes a party, however attendees such as Goldie Locke found it to be silly frivolities and she made sure most knew it. "Honestly Goldie, could you be anymore of a drag. Make face darling, there is Mr. Belacourte. Smile." as soon as the rounded man shook his mother's hand and turned to her. Goldie looked up at the man and smiled a perfect toothy grin. "Hello Mr. Belacourte, I sure hope that your daughter doesn't get reaped on her birthday!" She laughed humorlessly. "We all know what that means, now if you'll excuse me. I do believe they are starting I don't want to miss President Snow's special message." She began to walk off but a thought crossed her mind, plastering a smile on once more she turned to the pale looking man whom her mother consoled. "Also Mr. Belacourte, fingers crossed yes?" She crossed her fingers excitedly before filing in past the velvet tie-offs.

    After the formalities were through, the peacock of an escort called out the large overflowing glass bowl out onto the platform. "And as always may the odds be ever in your favor, ladies first yes?" There was a roar from the swarms of parents, mentors, and hopeful volunteers. Goldie however was not amused in the slightest, but she was ever so patient. "Our first tribute is, Goldie Locke." Without further ado, she made her way up to the platform. The strange thing was the heavy silence that lingered over the crowd, once she made it to the platform, she shook the hand of the escort before turning to the crowd with a raised eyebrow. Meeting several pairs of eyes, she challenged anyone who would like to volunteer. But her father had for once come through for her. The fool. Folding her hands at her waist, she smiled pleasantly but without pride. It was a little more cruel than that.

    "Now, as for our gentlemen tribute!" And so he reached into the bowl once more.
  6. Grey woke up early that morning, her adrenaline kicking in as soon as her eyes flickered open. She was more angry and bitter than scared, but even so, she couldn't suppress the knot in her stomach. She walked into the kitchen where her cousins were all busily getting ready and eating a small breakfast.
    "I laid your dress out over there." said her Aunt and pointed toward a light blue dress that one of her cousins had outgrown.
    Grey angrily took a bite of bread and stomped over toward her dress and began to change out in the open in front of everyone, not really caring at the moment. Her cousin Abby looked at her and rolled her eyes, "Being angry doesn't solve anything." Grey clenched her fists slightly because she really didn't want to be messed with today. "Yeah well being a passive fuck doesn't solve anything either." she snapped and everyone in the room fell silent. Grey pulled her dress on quickly and didn't bother to adjust it even though it was twisted and lopsided. Then she grabbed her shoes and walked out of the house to go feed the animals, ignoring everyone's shocked faces.
    By the time the reaping rolled around she had only managed to enrage herself even more. She kept a fierce face plastered on as she was checked in and waited for the names to be drawn. Although deep down she really didn't want her cousins to be reaped, she refused to actually show any sort of affection outwardly. They all exchanged worried glances except for Grey. She kept her eyes glued on the stage. As their escort daintily placed her hand into the glass bowl, Grey couldn't help but roll her eyes in frustration. Even so, she felt hot and worried as her heart began to race. The seconds between when the escort selected a slip of paper and when she read the name seemed to drag on for hours.
    "Grey Atkins!" she said cheerfully and smiled. Grey only heard a ringing in her ears as she heard her name being called out. Although she didn't look scared on the outside, she suddenly felt like throwing up. "Where are you dear?" the escort called softly and the other children around her stepped away. A guard grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the stage to get her to start walking. Standing on the stage she squinted into the sun and tried to look at passive as possible.
    However, as soon as she was taken back stage she broke down in tears.

    David woke up before the sun rose, and sat on his bed in the dark blue of the early morning, thinking about how he had made it this far. This was his last reaping. He still felt numb from the loss of his father, but he smiled softly as his youngest sister stirred in her sleep. He got up quietly and walked out of the room. He glanced in a mirror and smirked to himself. He wouldn't get picked. He had made it this far and hadn't, there was no way they'd call him now. He prepared some breakfast for everyone and woke them up to eat before he started to get dressed in his best clothes. Before his father died he had only had ragged dress clothes, but his mother had given him his father's suit to wear today and although he felt proud to be wearing it, he felt even better about how good he looked in it. He waited until everyone else had eaten and then he took the last few bites for himself. He spent most of the morning making jokes to ease the tension and make his younger siblings less scared. He couldn't stop noticing his mothers worried glanced though.
    At the reaping he stood proudly, but glanced over at his family every now and then and would smile reassuringly.
    First the girl was chosen, and then the escort walked over to the male tribute bowl. "David Lancaster!" she said happily and smiled brightly at him as he began to approach the stage. He adjusted his suit as he walked up the steps and then stood on stage with his hand clasped behind his back.
    After the reaping, he waited in a small room for his family to arrive. When they did he hugged his mother tightly and then looked at his eleven year old sister Lindsey. "Hey, you're the oldest one in the house now, okay? You've got to help mom take care of everyone." Lindsey nodded, but her eyes where filled with tears. "Just until you get back." she said as her voice shook. "Yeah, just until I get back." he said and smiled softly.
  7. Adam stood there as he listened to the mayor's speech. He kinda blacked out during the choosing of the female tribute. He zoned back in when there escort said "And now for the boys". He felt as though he was going to be sick. He was so worried he might be chosen. His plan was to wait until he was 18, he would be stronger and smarter and have a better chance of surviving. But this family had lost a lot of money when his father became ill and couldn't work, so Adam had to get tessere. He hadn't before and it made him feel so scared. He braced himself as she announced the name, hoping to god it wasn't him. Then she said it "Adam MacDonald". He felt so bad, like he was going to puke. He slowly walked up to the stage and puked a little in his mouth. He swallowed it quickly and stood there, as stiff as a brick, trying to hold back tears, and wondering how he would say goodbye to his family. After the reaping he sat in a small room, pacing up and down the length of the room, waitng for his family. He hugged his younger sister and promised he would win. Afer his mother left with her he turned to his father and said "I won't win. It's impossible. But if i die it will mean one less mouth to feed. Store up the money you would use on me. Build a better life". He hugged his dad and then slumped back in the chair and puked all over the floor.
  8. Coriander woke before the rising of the sun, as always, and sat in bed, using a small lamp to write a small bit in a journal she pulled from under her mattress.
    'Reaping #1.
    Chance of being picked: low
    Chance of volunteering: high
    Tension....: unbearable'
    With that, she put the journal away and got up, searching through her closet for something to wear to the reaping, as well as having to decide what her two younger siblings would wear. Her brother should be able to dress himself so there shouldn't be worries on that end, but what of breakfast? She couldn't tell if her father would be up to the task or not with having to get the two rowdy two year olds to get dressed, so she forced herself to get up and make a simple meal of toast and some eggs, two per person, before heading to the bathroom to take a nice long, hot bath to ease her nerves. The sound of kicking and screaming and fussing, though, signified her peaceful morning's end as she let the tub drain, dried off, and went back to her room in a towel to dress and do her hair. The morning was pretty busy, but she didn't mind. At least it was something to take her mind off of the stress of her decision, the one she wouldn't have even told her brother about, not even her father.

    Everyone expected a rather average reaping, a bustle and fight over who volunteers, a rush of enraged careers who didn't make the cut, and parents who are wishing their prize babies good luck, but today was far from the case. Edward Lovesky, a new kid in Cori's class, volunteered before even the girl's name had been called, something beyond unorthodox, but certainly not against the rules. And so he was carted up, leaving a rather flustered Raliana Dunskey to pull the female tribute's name. It wasn't Cori, just as she had predicted, but it was her best friend, Laura, only a year older than her. With a pent up sigh of relief struggling to get out, Cori forced her hand into the air.
    "I volunteer as tribute!" Slowly, Cori looked around, girls stepping away from her, all silent. She couldn't help but think how there should be more people vying for her position, but she remembered that all the real fighters had passed the age limit. Very few of the children now really wanted to be in the games, even if they went to the career academy. With slightly shaky legs, Cori walked up with peacekeepers behind her, climbing the steps to the platform, taking a deep breath and calming her nerves.
    "And just who might this little munchkin be?" She asked in her ever flamboyant voice. At least that was the same. Same is a good thing.
    "Im Coriander Cicillia." was all the girl could utter, though. She envied the cool, perfectly level head that her fellow tribute shared, felt horribly incompetent in her performance. None the less, the ceremony moved on and they were hauled off to their final meeting with family and friends. But... no one came for her. Not even her brother to whom she was so close. Not the girl she volunteered for, none of her school mates, no one. Lightly biting her lip, she held the small, engraved cpu that was on a chain around her neck.
    "Im sorry.... Terrian...." she said softly as she closed her eyes, standing up and letting the peace keepers escort her to the train, a train she would either come back on with enough riches to sustain their family for years to come, or would never come back on at all.
  9. Marcus woke up earlier then he usually would any other day. But he had good reason to; it was Reaping day. He sat in bed and sighed, standing to get himself cleaned up and dressed. Once done he sat at the table with his own plate of breakfast and two other plates prepared. After finishing he began to wait for his mom and dad to wake up.

    "I see you woke up early, Marcus." His mother sighed as she walked into their small kitchen, dressed and giving him a sad smile. His father soon followed, looking rather tense.

    "Yeah." Came the teens reply.

    They spent the rest of their time together in silence, and before long they were on their way to the square. Marcus stared blankly at the very cheerful escort as she made her way up to the stage. He ignored most of what she had to say, mouthing the words "-and may the odds be ever in your favor." while rolling his eyes. They made it seem like having children kill other children was an honor! He began to pay attention when the escort began to dig into the male tribute bowl first..... What?

    "Why not try something new I always say!" The escort laughed, pulling out the piece of paper that would decide someones fate...

    "Marcus Weaver!" She called, smiling brightly. Marcus froze, only for a split second, before making his way up to the stage. He stood straight, eyes dull with hidden hatred as he stared ahead.

    "Here is your male tribute for district twelve! Now, for the ladies!" She announced.
    Hailey's mother woke her up and told her to get dressed, hugging her tightly and reminding her how much she loves her. The teen nodded and did as told after her mother left. Once done, she began to make her way to the square, not in the mood to eat. She stood tall, straight. She frowned as she watched the escort, ignoring what they had to say until she went over to the bowl for the female tributes of district six.

    "The lucky female tribute for district six is..."

    'Please, not me. I don't know if I could-' Hailey couldn't finish her thought process, because the escort opened their mouth again to call out the name.

    "Hailey Willson. My, what a lucky young lady!"

    ' I'm not lucky, every other girl here is....because they can live a little longer. ' was Hailey's thought as she walked on stage, staring at the silent crowed as the escort went to the bowl for male tributes.
  10. Scarlett fiddled with the necklace around her neck as she stood in line amongst the other girls her age waiting for the reaping to begin. She bounced on her toes a little, earning a few glares from the girls standing around her. She couldn’t help the nervous energy that was causing her motion, normally that energy came out in a steady stream of words, but she couldn’t very well start up a conversation during the middle of the reaping. Well, she could but she doubted her companions would approve, nor the peacekeepers come to think of it. If she craned her neck in just the right way, she could see her parents clutching each other tightly. She could understand why they were worried, anyone’s name could be drawn from the bowls after all, but really it was unlikely that hers would be pulled. There were so many girls here, and she knew of quite a few that took the Tessarae. She was lucky enough to not have to do that.

    Glancing around, she notices a few girls already crying. It was certainly a somber time, she sighs, so unlike the end of harvest feasts once a year. She smiles slightly at the thought. One more year after this reaping and then she’d be free of all this. The smile falls from her face and she stopped her bouncing as the escort stepped up on stage. There was the normal speech and video from the President before the escort stepped up to the first bowl.

    “Ladies first! And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

    Scarlett snorted softly, earning a few more glares from those around her. It was an odd thing to wish people. Which odds were they hoping were in your favor? She thought. Most people of the lower districts hoped that their name wouldn’t be drawn, but these games were a favorite of the people of the Capitol. So were the odds they were wishing was that your name would be drawn, because it would be an honor to represent your district? The escort had chosen a name from the bowl of the girls names and a hush ran out through the assembled girls as she unfolded it, even Scarlett had stopped fiddling and moving.

    “Scarlett Willow.”

    Scarlett was shocked, it appeared as if the odds weren’t in her favor today. Taking a deep breath she makes her way up on stage, looking only straight ahead, knowing that she’d be unable to continue with any dignity if she were to look back at her parents. She knew her mother was probably sobbing into her father’s arms. She stands up on stage looking out over the assembled boys and girls as the male tribute was selected and called.

    “David Lancaster.”

    She watches as he walks up to the stage as well and bites at her lip again. Well her chances just slimmed a little more, she thinks as she looks at the large man, because seriously he wasn’t a boy in the slightest. She gives him a smile before they are led in for their last minutes with family. Her parents don’t say much before she is ushered on the train.

    “May the odds be ever in your favor Scarlett.” She hears her father say before the door closes behind her. Man she was really starting to hate that phrase, she thinks as she steps onto the train, trying to keep herself in what little control she had left.
  11. Too Early.
    There was a cold feeling that ran through Walter’s body. It was not because he was afraid of what was to come, or rather, what needed to be done. It was because his brother Ruben had splashed him with ice cold water as to “properly” wake him up. “Stacey and Neil said wake up”, Ruben demanded coldly.

    Walter shot up out of his peaceful state. His head was throbbing from waking up too quickly and his body was shivering from the water dripping down his sides. He did a lousy job trying to keep himself warm, wrapping his arms around his body from the breeze that was just the still air in his room. From the corner of his eye, he found that it was still dark outside. “The sun’s not even up”, Walter tried to say sternly as his teeth clattered.

    “Well tell that to them.” Ruben was at the door holding the bucket. It was quite obvious that he was getting impatient.

    After drying up, Walter went to the living room where Stacey and Neil were sitting on the couch, already prepared. It seemed that they've gotten ready hours before Walter was given his surprise wake up. “You guys look snazzy”, he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he stood in front of his aunt and uncle.

    “Why aren’t you ready?”, Stacey asked, very concerned and slight anger in her tone.

    “Oh, well, you see, I did plan to get ready on time for the reaping. You know, I took a hot shower last night, made sure I smelled oh so good. I forgot being on time or just good enough wasn’t accepted here. So then just a few minutes ago I was awakened and given another shower by surprise. It was cold, freezing actually. How nice of Ruben.” Walter mockingly stated, giving a chuckle at the end for good measure. He wasn’t too angry. He found being up early (too early) for the reaping day was a little redundant, but he sure wasn’t mad for having to be up earlier than expected since he had enough sleep anyway.

    Stacey leered at Ruben, who was in the kitchen and hadn’t acknowledged or noticed her stare. She then looked at Neil worried. “I suppose you can just sit with us for now, and you can get ready for the reaping later”, his uncle stated. Walter sat in front of them, crisscross on the floor, chin resting on the backs of his hands, and looking up at them like he was a little kid.

    “Speak away, my man”, Walter said casually. And they discussed how Walter would volunteer during the reaping. It was his last year to be able to enter the Games, and knowing that his chances were slim since many others wanted to volunteer, he had to make his move at precisely the right time.

    Ruben was in the other room, the kitchen, sitting down at the table and listening to the conversation as he drank coffee. His hand clutched into a tight fist around the mug. He felt envious that his brother may have a chance to be in the Games, the chance that he himself never got because they were simply stolen. All those years of training wasted, all his muscles now useless. He felt old, too old for this matter. All he could do now was hope that his brother would be too late to volunteer. Those chances were very slim, he knew. Stacey and Neil had a clever and very precise plan.

    Walter stood in front of his mirror, fixing a few things before he had to go to the Reaping – tucking his shirt, tying his tie, putting his glasses on (they were only for style because he thought he looked cool), combing his hair (which was sort useless since it was always a bushy bundle of black curls). Ironically, he treated this day like any other day. He was so calm and confident about what was going to happen, if not, a little excited to enter the games.

    He looked into the mirror and tried not to think about anything, but also tried to think about everything. Weird, he thought, but I guess it’s only because I’m a human. A human, yes. Human, well, not quite. His way of thinking about times and events like these were out of the ordinary, even for careers. Surely, other careers would be feeling some adrenaline through their nerves. Walter was just so calm it was scary.

    Still looking at the mirror, he found another figure walking toward behind him. It was his brother, Ruben, which wasn’t so hard to figure out since he had flaming red hair and pale skin – much contrary to how Walter looked (black-brown hair, lightly tan skin), or how everyone in the family looked.

    Ruben was breathing down his neck. “You better not screw this up.” Of all careers in District 2, Ruben was probably the scariest and most intimidating. Walter was never fazed by him, though.

    “You need to chillax, man. I know what to do. Raise my hand when the Escort is still pronouncing the name, keep my mouth open so I can easily and quickly volunt-“

    “I’m not talking about the reaping. I’m talking about your life.” Ruben walked away just like that. Although extremely envious of his brother’s chances and support, hoping that he would be too late to volunteer, he still worried about what would happen if he did enter. Knowing that Walter didn’t take anything seriously, at all, he was sure that he would be one to die too early into the Game.

    Of all things - nearing the reaping and having to volunteer, what would happen in the arena, his possible death- Walter chose to worry about the way his brother acted. He’d been so distant and mean since after a few years their parents died. Did he suddenly get immensely affected by the traumatic event? Or was it something else? Walter didn’t know.

    That much thinking got him nervous for the wrong reasons. “I need to go pee…” Walter whispered to himself.

    The Reaping.
    There were many whispers among the crowd of teenagers. Cunning looks were plastered on the faces of older careers, seeming as if they all planned to kill someone and were just waiting for the right time, which was sort of the case. Walter just had his usual crooked half smile on, looking laid back and calm because he wasn’t feeling intense about anything. He didn’t need to look intimidating and superior, and he didn’t want to; he thought that was stupid. Some boys leered at him when he made his way into the crowd. Walter just ignored them, but just for his amusement, “Nice weather we’re having”, he said with possibly the most annoying and most fake smile on his face. He turned to face the stage.

    The crowd went silent, gradually but quickly, as the Escort made their way onto the stage. “Welcome to the Reaping of the Annual Hunger Games. Shall we begin?” The Escort’s voice was sort of cartoony and overenthusiastic, which unsurprisingly complemented their appearance.

    Of course, “Lady’s first”. The Escort always had to say that for no particular reason. It was like that every year, and like every year, there were many to raise their hands to volunteer as tribute after whoever was chosen, to which a girl with dark hair, pale skin, and light eyes won that spot. Walter kept his eyes on her. The way she walked up stage was scary. He caught her name – Ash Livell.

    “Now for the boys.” The Escort slowly picked a ballot from the glass ball. Ever. So. Slowly. Surely, it aggravated many (just choose the name already. You don’t have to be so melodramatic). Walter was just getting ready to volunteer. It gave him time. The atmosphere was dead silent.

    The Escort wasn’t even halfway finished with pronouncing the name. Walter shot his hand up, but did not say a word. Many looked at him shocked. Was this even allowed? Didn’t the Escort have to finish calling the name and then ask if there were any volunteers? His aunt and uncle in the distance looked at him with pride and joy in their eyes. Of course, they had found loopholes in the rules. Clever fighters the Zolnerowichs were. Walter kept his hand up in the air, which seemed like forever since he was waiting for the exact second the Escort was finished calling the name.

    Immediately right after the last syllable, Walter yelled out as loudly and as quickly as he could without sounding too insane as already perceived, “I volunteer as tribute.” Many other hands shot up after him, of course too late, and they lamely fell back down into the crowd. There would have been more hands up if the others weren’t so shocked.

    Walter moseyed on to the stage, keeping his cool composure and even having a chat with Peacekeepers surrounding him. Of course they ignored him. That stupid half smile was still on his face.

    Many of the boys, presumably those who were 18 that had lost their last chance, glared at him as to say, “This boy? Why this boy?” or “That wasn’t even fair.” Some boys just looked at him like he was crazy, because he sort of was crazy. “He never takes his training seriously. He’s definitely going to die first and lose this for us.”

    Short Meetings.
    Walter had a very short meeting with his family. His aunt and uncle hugged him, smiles and tears on their faces like he'd graduated high school. They acted like he was going to surely win. For real. Walter acted like it wasn't that much of a big deal, like it was "just a game". Ruben was a little too worried about things.

    "You need to win," he told Walter.

    "Yea, dude, I know. We'll the great prizes and stuff afterward."

    "It's not even about that. Seriously, protect yourself. You always try to have fun, but you can't this time. Not now." He gave his brother a hug. Walter struggled to hug him back because Ruben was much more muscular than him.

    The Peacekeepers barged in to take Ruben away. Was that even five minutes? It felt like only 30 seconds. Before the Peacekeepers could tow him out, Ruben ripped something off his wrist and dropped (threw, really) on the floor. Then he was gone. The door slammed shut.

    Walter looked down at what his brother dropped. He knealt down to pick it up. It was the leather bracelet their father got for Ruben for his birthday when they were younger. Engraved on it was the family crest - a knight surrounded by a lions on shields and encircled by a wreath of leaves. This was to represent what the meaning of Zolnerowich - "soldier". The bracelet was passed down for many generations of the Zolnerowich family. Of course, only the oldest child could have it.

    Their father never believed in being a "soldier" of Panem (careers), but he did believe in being a soldier of one's own life. At least that's what Walter remembered when he gave the bracelet to Ruben. Their father made them promise to never train for the games. They had broken that promise long ago.
    #11 SinisterOblivion007, Jul 14, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 15, 2014
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  12. Ember yawned and stretched out her long limbs, fumbling around while she blindly crawled out of bed. She rubbed her eyes and rolled her shoulders, listening for the annual 'pop' that always came. She stumbled over to her worn out dresser, taking a nice long look in the coal dust covered mirror. She groaned softly to herself, grabbing up her hairbrush and begining to pull it thought her hair. It's reaping day..
    of all days, this had to be it.
    Nothing special was supposed to happen that day, it was just Ember's excuse at the moment. She winced as the hairbrush caught a tangle and yanked at it, pulling a few blonde hairs out. Ember growled. She closed her eyes, picking up a grey ribbon on her dresser and tying it into her hair, creating a not-so-neat bun. She turned to look at it and decided it was fine; besides. It's just the reapings.

    Ember's name would be in eighteen times, considering the tesserae. She'd almost always took it. Hardly ever needed to, but every little bit helped. She practically flung on a grey dress, making sure to match the ribbon in her hair. Slipping on black shoes, she ran down the stairs, pressing her hand against the wall as she did. She shivered at the cool wood, while enjoying the feeling of the grain against her skin. She was suprised to find her father standing there, in front of the stove. The smell of sugary oats and butter filled the small room, as did the scent of brewing coffee. He never makes coffee.. Ember smiled. She layed a hand on her father's back, swinging herself around to kiss his rough cheek. He had bathed, and shaved. "Morning, papa," Ember said as she sat down at the kitchen table. It was suprisingly sturdy, made by her grandfather many reapings ago. "Morning. You look beautiful, is that your mother's dress?" He asked, only turning his head a little bit from his cooking. Ember nodded in response, only to remind herself that he isn't looking. "Yes, it's the nicest one I have. Either this or the green one." Her father crunched up his nose, making a 'ewgh' sound. Ember laughed, plucking a hair from her face and placing it back over her head. "Have you taken tesserae this year?" Her father asked. "Mhhm, as I do every year. It'll be in eighteen times," Ember replied, speaking in a jolly tone as if is was an average, ordinary day.
    Her father cringed. "That's an awful lot, hun. I think this year should be the last that you take it." Ember sat up straight, staring at the back if his head, because she knew he'd feel it. "Why do you think that, papa?" she asked innocently, while staring icy daggers at him. "Well, next year it'll just keep adding up and adding up. It makes me uncomfortable..I don't wanna lose you, hun." Her father sighed, bringing over two bowls of oatmeal and coffee mugs, still steaming warm. Ember smiled, taking a bite of the gooey goodness. "I'll be fine papa, I promise."

    The Reaping

    Ember marched with the other kids along the road, on their way to the reaping. She saw a few familiar faces, just some kids she'd seen in school. They hardly noticed her. With her drab clothes and firm walk, she fit right in. She didn't mind. Sticking out was usually bad around here, with the peacekeepers. If you were different, that gave people a reason to think you were too different. When I come home, I'll make papa some of his favorite acorn soup...I'll have to buy the basil, though. It shouldn't be too expensive, Moira usually has it all for a good price. Ember thought, walking along at a comfortable pace. She glanced at the other kids, scanning their faces for any emotion. Some where cocky, most others were afraid. Especially the younger ones. She saw many children, just coming in at the age of fourteen or thirteen. Even younger, maybe. But their names would only be in once, one name amongs hundreds of others. She smiled at their fear, knowing she felt the same on her first reaping. That was the day a girl was chosen, maybe seventeen. She started kicking and screaming, yelling at the peacekeepers to let her go. She was one of the first to die, poor thing. Among all her stray thoughts, Ember didn't notice the registration table. She stumbled up to the table, a peacekeeper grabbing her hand harshly and poking something into it, drawing blood. Ember didn't really mind, though it hurt. Her fingers were pressed down onto some paper, her blood leaving a print on the paper. The peacekepper gruffly told her to move on, and so she did.

    Ember felt a jerk as she ran into someone, a young boy. She swiftly apologized and realised that it was nearly time for the actual reaping, the time when some unlucky person's name would be called. Ember found her way to her area, females around the age of sixteen or seventeen. She stood firm, glancing around without turning her head. It was dark and cold looking, every grey or black, sometimes a dirty shade of white. Everything else seemed to be metal of some sort, even more cold. Ember crinkled her nose. It smelled. She never really liked the smell of coal, if there ever was one. Maybe it was the smell of hard labor, or dirty people, maybe even smoke. Either way, she didn't like it. Her head turned as she heard someone walking up the stairs to the stage. The escort, all dressed in fancy colorfull clothes. Poor thing sticks out like a sore thumb...maybe she things the same way about us. Ember listened faintly, giving most of her attention to her thoughts. She heard the lady's squeaky voice, babbling on about something. "Ember Sparks!" she heard it. Her name, being called. She didn't realise it was called, however. She looked up, glancing at the escort. Her name was called once more, and it came it Ember's attention that maybe she should begin walking. Or running. Either worked. She walked out of the aisle, her eyes slowing growing wider and wider. Peacekeepers took up positions on either side of her. She swallowed harshly, clutching for the necklace that hung on her neck. She held on tight, as if it was her lifeline. It was her lifeline.

    "Papa.." Ember squeaked, unable to talk. Her father swiftly walked up to her and grabbed her in his strong arms, hushing her like he used to when she was a child. She felt like a child, she felt the needs of a child. Not much was said, only her father whispering encouraging words in her ear. "You can do this, can win, I know you can. You're strong enough. Just remember; you have to stay strong, you can't ever give up. You can win this." Ember nodded, her hair messier by now and her tears making her cheeks itch. "But papa, I have to kill people.." she gasped for air, finding it almost as hard to breathe as it is to speak. "I know, hun. I know, but you can do it. Don't think about it, just stay strong and come home..okay?" she nodded rapidly, sniffling and wiping her nose. "Come home to me, Ember." She felt her father ripped away from her. She reached her hands out to him, but the door was already shut. She fell down onto the couch in the room, allowing her father's words to echo in her mind.

    "Come home to me."
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  13. Rowan So quick, so quick for the goodbyes. She only got a few moments with each; minutes, but they felt like seconds, seconds dripping away as the clock in the corner of the old room ticked, ticked, ticked. She hugged her sibling, her parents, her friends. Grace showed up last, tears overflowing blue eyes, body quivering, clothing rumpled.

    "R-r-rowan! Why? Why would you-" she broke off, sobs over taking her. Rowan enveloped the girl in her arms, fighting back tears of her own.

    "Because... I had to. I couldn't let you go in there. And..."

    "But your sister. She... she went in too. And.. She died, Rowan. She died! What will your parents think?"

    Rowan stiffened and then straightened up, looking away from Grace as she thought for a moment. It had just occurred to her... What if she did win? Her sibling had failed, but what if she, of all of her family, managed to win the Games- the Quarter Quell, too. What if she managed to fight to the end and won the glory and the money and the prize? What if she brought home a better life for her family, for Grace... for everyone she knew? There were no laws that she couldn't share around her wealth..

    "They'll be grateful. Because I'll win."

    And that was the last of their meeting. Grace was towed away, Peacekeepers grabbing onto either arm and half dragging the protesting girl out. Rowan only watched in misery, sitting atop the moth-eaten couch in the room and staring at the old clock. Somehow, it still told the correct time. It ticked away. She noted it got stuck on the 6, swinging back and forth until it continued ticking. How often did they have to reset clocks like those for them to still be accurate?

    After what then felt like centuries, two Peacekeepers came back, gesturing for her to rise. She stood up and following them out- one put a hand across her lower back, and she had to fight not to flinch away- and led her out the back of the building to where the train was. A small group of people were there, presumably to see her off. She determinedly looked away from the ground, focusing instead on her fingers, fingers that were pressed into a fist, as she boarded the train and made her way into the small seating room.

    Small? For a train, it was huge!

    Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, beautiful wooden tables were bolted to the floor to prevent them from shifting and sliding, and glasses, carved elegantly, were on each table, filled with fruits and candies and god-knows-what. She was so enthralled, just taking in the magnificence of the room, when the train shifted, lurching forward and throwing her off her feet to her knees. She swung her head towards the window- they were moving past the building, and she couldn't see the crowd outside anymore. She missed her chance to see her family one last time.

    The train rocked her side to side, gently, as they traveled along. Truly, the train didn't rock have as much as she would have anticipated it doing so. She knew little of the science of it, but it seemed incredibly unstable. But instead, it felt... comforting. Not that she needed comfort, of course. Ash wanted to be here, more than anything. It was her dream to be here. She didn't need comfort, she needed triumph.

    As soon as she boarded, she made for the small fruits and candies, investigating them before picking a small bowl of the delicacies to eat as she sat comfortably in one of the leather couches. She watched the male tribute enter too, a male she didn't recognize- not surprising, considering the size of her district- and then turned herself back to her fruit. He was none of her business. Of course, she had to start thinking about alliances. Usually those from districts one, two, and four allied together, but she would have no idea who she was up against until later in the evening, at least, if they decided to show them the reapings. She hoped they would. She didn't want to have to wait until she saw everybody parading outside in stupid tree costumes to make a first judgement. It didn't feel as ... accurate... as the reapings would be. Did they cry when they were called? Did they fight back? Did they go solemnly? Did they volunteer?

    She hadn't paid enough attention to the reaping of the boy next to her. She knew he volunteered, and volunteered quickly. She thought she had been fast, but this boy, perhaps, had been even faster than she. He also wanted to be here, but for what reason? Surely it couldn't be the same as her, or perhaps it truly was as simple as. If it was, they would make a great alliance. But if the reason was more personal, things could get tricky. She eyed him for a moment longer before taking a bite of a juicy, ice cold cherry, pit removed, skin as red as red could be. Paradise.

    She would be getting a lot more of this before long.
  14. IC: WHAP! The light bandages wrapped around Robin's fist slammed into the punching bag, a light succession of attacks following as he kept on his toes, timing his strikes to a slight beat in his head, his trainer watching, carefully noting each slight movement, even the tiny twitch of Robin's right eyelid whenever he drew back for a hit with his left hand. A few more minutes and Robin slowed to a stop, grabbing a towel off the rack and drying his hair with it, the sweat causing it to spike everywhere when he did.

    "You really should be getting rest," the trainer said, her lips twisting into a slight smirk. "Reaping Day is tomorrow."

    "Can't sleep."

    His trainer's smile only widened, and she threw him a water bottle. "Your left is still weak, and you need to work on preventing that wink."

    Robin shrugged and took a drink from the bottle before responding. "They don't know me like you do, Kathleen." He kissed her cheek and grinned, throwing his towel over his shoulder and sipping once as he stepped back and started to walk away. "I couldn't have asked for a better trainer. Tomorrow, let the odds be ever in my favor."

    The jovial mood was gone, and those last 8 words were dead serious as the door closed behind him.


    Most children had that horrible, horrible feeling of just not knowing as they waited for the Reaping, their pulse pounding in their ears, the thump, thump, thump so loud they could barely hear when the name was read, to sentence or save from death.

    Robin Grecia, on the other hand, knew he wasn't going anywhere but to the games.

    The only mild shock came when his name was actually pulled out of the bowl. "The male candidate is... Robin Grecia!" the woman yelled, and he was only then aware of exactly how much his pulse had been thudding in his ears.

    He raised his eyebrows slightly as he started to move toward the stand, then smirked once he arrived, raising a hand over his head as those same 8 words were said, drinking in the applause of the crowd, his mind already analyzing how to get to this stage again.

    Or die trying.

    OOC: Late post is late BAAAAH
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  15. The Pull.
    Walter barely had seconds to adjust from the short meetings in the waiting room until the Peacekeepers arrived to tow him to the train. He wasn't surprised to see them, knowing that they were always a little too quick and seemed to be in a rush. "You came just in time, boys", he chortled apparently a little too sarcastically since one of them elbowed him at the side.

    Walking down winding halls, he tried to keep conversation with the Peacekeepers. That never managed since they always ignored him. It must be boring, their jobs, having to keep quiet under helmets and pretend to be statues that were actually alive quite evil. Walter finally gave up talking, but he didn't stop amusing himself. So instead, he started to change his speed - slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. It was funny seeing the Peacekeepers trying to keep up with him, as coolly as they could, as he distanced himself further and further, and seeing them bump into each other whenever he stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Race you to the train, then?" Walter suggested. However, this only earned him another hit to the side, so he stopped messing around and sauntered along with the Peacekeepers surrounding him.

    The Train.
    The Peacekeepers were gone now that they pushed Walter into an empty room. In the room were the entrance doors that led to the inside of the train. Sensing his motion, the doors swiftly slid open when he walked toward them, and in a blink of an eye, he saw the inside of the train and entered casually. He felt the doors close behind him. The train immediately and unexpectedly began to zoom out of its stagnant place, causing Walter to fall pathetically on the carpeted floor. "I'm fine, I'm fine", he grunted as he stood himself up and put back on his glasses, though no one was around to hear him.

    He looked around the compartment, observing the place. There were many tables and chairs and unnecessary decor placed everywhere, yet the area seemed very spacious and welcoming. There was a lot of prepared food on the middle table, which he hurried to because he was starving, shoving whatever into his mouth and gulping down after only a few chews. He felt full after a couple minutes and lazily collapsed onto a couch, patting his non-existent belly.

    Walter gazed out the window for a little bit, then looked away because he was getting a bit of a headache. The view outside was only blurred lines and different colors considering how fast the train was traveling. He instead stared blankly and somewhat stupidly at the space in front of him and making a few weird faces as to make the headache go away, but that was only for a little moment when he realized that there was someone in the compartment.

    How had he not noticed her - the female tribute - when he walked in? Maybe it was because he reacted too quickly when he saw the food and didn't pay attention to anything else around him. Or maybe it was because she was very silent and made herself invisible, if not, blend in.

    Walter took the chance look at the girl for a little longer because it seemed she wasn't paying much attention to anything around her, let alone him. The first thing he thought to do was to introduce himself or at least say hello, but he held himself back. She was intimidating and didn't seem to want to be bothered.

    But a lonely train ride to the Capitol didn't seem all that pleasant to Walter. He got up from the chair at his end of the compartment to make his way to the female tribute at the other, along the way grabbing one more piece of bite-sized chocolate (One more piece wouldn't hurt, he thought to himself). He ungracefully flopped on the chair in front the girl, making himself comfortable. "Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, how are you?" he asked inquisitively, then threw the chocolate in his mouth.
    #15 SinisterOblivion007, Jul 23, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 23, 2014
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  16. What irritated Marcus most was the fact that his parents didn't have enough time to say goodbye. His mother was in tears and his father stayed tense and silent for most of the time. They each said their piece and each gave him hugs, didn't let go until the Peacekeepers had to pry them away from him. Marcus didn't cry, he wouldn't allow himself to, even when he felt like his heart just shattered into glass and was stabbing his insides. The walk to the train was in a daze, and once he made inside he stared at the table, shook his head with a light scowl then sat to stare out at the scenery, watching the blurs pass by blankly. He was sure the female tribute was there, but at the moment he didn't feel like striking up conversation. He felt...hollow and almost numb for the most part.

    ' I'm gonna have to do something to keep me from thinking of mom's face...' He thought with a sigh.


    Hailey hugged her mother and father tight, telling them that she'd do her best. Once the Peacekeepers came to take them away and she had only moments to herself she bowed her head and took deep breaths. A couple of tears fell at the thought of her parents losing another child; but she quickly wiped them away. ' Sis, I hope you're watching and taking care of mom and dad while I'm in the games, wherever you are.' She thought with a bitter laugh. It didn't take long before the Peacekeepers came, hauling her off to the train. Once inside, she went to the table and began to eat whatever small fruit was there, not really in the mood to eat much. She sat, noticing that the train didn't start moving until the male tribute came on the train. The train jerked forward and began to leave District Six.

    ' I most likely won't come back to them.' She thought sadly as she glanced at the male tribute curiously.
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  17. Astrid walked onto the train. She didn't care to socialize with anyone especially not the other tribute she knew she would need to find a way to avoid him. The mentors on the other hand she new she would have to talk to them who every they were. 'Great. I wonder who they are? Maybe they can tell me how to survive for a little while so that I can make it look like I'm trying. I'm actually not sure why I volunteered at this point other than to get away. I'll try to make it look like I stand a chance for as long as I can I guess for my parents sake.' She walked till she saw a few chairs and a table. 'Maybe they'll show up here.' Within a few minutes a women appeared. "Hello you must be Astrid. I am your mentor Taylor." "Yes that's me. Umm... Were is the other tribute and the male mentor if you don't mind me asking." Astrid replied. "They are in another section of the train. The boy thought you would like to have very little contact. Why that is I'm not sure. Now you will have to see him at meals and when we first arrive and simple things like that." Taylor was smiling at Astrid. "Umm... He's right I would like that. I'm not big on friends or making any. So any thing else we need to discussed now?" Astrid said kinda getting tried of talking for it wasn't something she did often. "No not necessarily. But you will need to make some friends. One of them will be me. Another you will need to try and make it the Capital. And lastly if you can other tributes or at least one it may prove useful in the end. And that is all I'm guessing you wish to get some sleep by how you sound. There is a room over in the back on the right." "Thank you. I will try to make friends. So are we friends already? Or is that not how it works." "Haha... Your funny I like that. Yes we are friends but that's not usually how it works. You will have to usually share more about your self and each other then your friend ship will slowly grow." "I'm glad. So In that case latter maybe you and I can do what that getting to know one another thing. But first if you don't mind the nap thing sounds like a good idea." "That's fine have a good nap Astrid." "Thanks." Astrid got up and Moved to the room that Taylor had told her about and laid down for a short nap wondering what might lay ahead of her.
    #17 Raven, Jul 25, 2014
    Last edited: Jul 25, 2014
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