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A long time ago, things were good. Peace and harmony ruled and people could go about their business but then came the war that nearly wiped out humanity. In order to maintain the hard-earned peace, 12 boys and 12 girls, called Tributes, are put in an outdoor arena where they remain to compete in a nationally televised event called the Hunger Games. The rules are simple: Keep the audience entertained and stay alive by any means necessary. Every citizen must watch as the youths fight for survival against death until only one remains or a full year has passed.

It is now the year 30XX. Your job is to survive the Games for as long as you can in hopes of escape. But even if you do, can you survive the Horrors within the Capital?

Robin was sitting on a rooftop as she watched the sunrise, a small blackish gray tentacle popped from her back and slunk onto her shoulder. Robin slid off the roof and allowed the gravity to pull her down before a pair of wings sprouted out of her back as she suddenly hovered just inches from the ground and floated down daintily. When her feet touched the ground her wings turned back into tentacles again and disappeared into her back as she started home.

Gabriella was working her part time job as a deep-sea treasure hunter, she had just finished her shift and was heading to her shared home with Robin and Harmony. Harmony was already at home, her fingers danced over the old rusted piano, that with Harmony's powers came to life.

---

"Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for."

There was a short moment of silence in the grand room, leaving Terra to bow and let his grey hair fall forwards before he stood and pushed it back. After a few moments, three sets of hands started their applause. Phenix, his father. Cherry, his sister, and Lara, his mother. Terra stepped forward and sat with his family as Cherry stepped up, her elegant stride framed by a few sets of wings. They would vanish soon, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Correcting her stance, she began.


"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!"


That earned another round of applause after she curtsied, Lara and Phenix smiling. Glancing at the clock, Phenix sighed. "I'm afraid we must cut this short. The Reaping demands our presence." Nodding, Terra and Cherry starting up the stairs, waiting until they were out of their parent's sight before sprinting to their shared room, quickly closing the changing curtain in the middle of it. Cherry grabbed a silky green dress, examining it before nodding and starting to change into it. Terra chose a red velvet tuxedo with a black tie, quickly unbuttoning it and setting it on his bed to change into it. After but a few minutes, they drew the curtain back and started for the door, Phenix and Lara greeting them in a grey suit and a blue dress, respectively. After a collective examination, the family departed.


---



Angie woke up slowly, yawning and rubbing her eyes as she trotted to her wardrobe and collected a pink dress, changing into it before slipping on socks and shoes. Scampering about the house, she found breakfast ready and waiting, evidently from her parents expecting her to be up sooner. She looked nothing like her parents, truth be told. That was because she was adopted by a couple that were quite heartwarming, if unable to have children of their own. Derek, her father, had most of his body replaced with robotics. He was strong and fast, though gentle in a shocking way. Her mother was a quiet woman, though with enough love to give for both Derek and Angie. They lived a quiet life, money from Derek's father's will having bought them a large, beautiful house and elegant clothes. Hearing something move as she was eating, Angie turned. Around a corner, out of the sun, a spindly wing-limb stayed slightly hidden. Vines were draped over and around it for decoration. "Good morning, Luke!" Angie set down her toast and ran over to the demon, hugging his long legs and looking up at him. "Are we going to go to the Reaper today?" A low, long chuckle resonated from Lukian. "The Reaping. Maybe, if you want to." "I do, I do! It sounds like fun! What do they win if they have their name drawn in the raffle?" Lukian was silent for a moment. "They have a chance to go to another game and win a lot of glory." Angie giggled in delight. "I want to go! It sounds like fun!" Lukian sighed, but agreed to take her.

There was a room and a man. He was tall, lanky, and the edges of his brown leather shoes peeked out from underneath the oak desk. He leaned forward a little, the edge of his blue shirt sleeve brushing the surface as he tapped his fingers, watching the clock. Eventually, the long skinny black hand moved once, and the door to the room opened. He leaned back in his chair, enough that his knees scraped against the rim of the desk as a girl entered the room. Her long dark hair swung back and forth as she walked into the room. Her shoes barely made any noise on the carpeted floor, and she moved a few feet in before stopping. The officer that had led her in stood in the doorway. The man looked up at him, smiling a little as if the entire situation amused him. "Thank you, Officer Perkinson. You can close the door." He nodded nervously, stepping out of the room. He stopped just as he was closing the door. "I'll be right outside if you need anything, sir." "Thank you, Perkinson, but I don't think that will be necessary. Miss Ramesh here won't be a problem." He nodded again, closing the door all of the way. Once he had left the room, he gestured for Zoe to take a seat. She did so, the strange gloves that completely covered her hands, acting like handcuffs making a loud clunking noise as she sat down. "Miss Ramesh, can you remind me why you're in jail?" "Because I spoke out and the Capitol wanted me to shut up," she replied evenly. "Seems you've forgotten," the man said lightly, reaching for a file and opening it, reading it without taking his eyes off of Zoe. "Zoe Ramesh, Age 17. Arrested for attacking three Peacekeepers, setting a small building on fire that nearly killed 8 people, and petty theft. Do you have any idea the damage you caused that day, Miss Ramesh?" She looked down at her lap, saying quietly, "I didn't mean for the building to burn down. That was an accident." "And yet it still happened. We're lucky we put it out before anything else got destroyed. He leaned forward once more, setting down the file and resting his elbows on the desk, still not taking his eyes off of her. "Miss Ramesh, your anger is a danger to society. But based on the improvements you've been making over the past 6 months, and the fact that technically you were supposed to be let out in 9 months after this date, we're letting you out early. On parole." "And why's that?" He shrugged. "Mostly because the Hunger Games are coming up. You ever watch the Hunger Games, Miss Ramesh?" "Yeah." "Well, you are still eligible for the Hunger Games. And by Capitol law, that means you have to be entered." "So you're letting me out to die." "If you are picked, you'll enter the Hunger Games like everyone else. If you die, then there's one less criminal in the world to worry about. If you don't, then you'll be a victor. On parole." He took out another piece of paper and slid it towards her. "This is the terms of your parole." She glanced down at it, taking in the information. "So I either die or win and live a half-life." "Isn't that better than jail? Oh, and for the record, you'll be on parole even if you're not picked. So I suggest you read these terms carefully." "What about the gloves?" She asked, holding them up. A pair of thick leather-looking gloves covered her hands. One was a metal bar with a slightly metallic screen. "Those stay on, for now. As you know they've got hydraulic lining. Constantly damp, constantly canceling out your ability. There's a combination lock on them now instead of an electric automatic one. If you can get them off during the games, congratulations, you'll burn the place down. We'll fit you with new ones when you come out. If not, you'll have one hell of a handicap." She licked her dry lips, swallowing. "Alright, where do we start?" "By you getting your eyes off of me like a pair of laser death beams and on that paper."

"ERIC!" A woman said urgently, hurriedly typing away at a computer. "Eric, bring me those files before this customer pulls out. We can't afford to lose another one!" "You mean you're too greedy to admit that the customer is actually right in this situation," Eric muttered, hurrying to a long panel covered in holders and pulling out two manilla folders. Cradling them in his arms, he walked down a long hallway to the room with the woman who was panicking at the computer, pushing open the door. As she shoved her glasses up her long, thin nose, he handed her the folders. "Here you go, Mrs. Enshower," he said smoothly, his hands clasped at the wrists behind his back. "Thank you," she said, not taking her eyes off of the screen. "Really, these people are the most hard-headed I've ever seen. Oh, I shouldn't say that. Eric, make a note of that. Never insult your customers, even if they're not in the room." "Of course Mrs. Enshower." *Sometimes I want to shake some sense into that woman,* he thought dryly. "Alright, go get me some coffee." "Yes, Mrs. Enshower." He walked out of the room, rolling his eyes. Eric hated this job, he really did. But you don't pass up the chance to work in a bank like this. Capitol or not he was doing well if it weren't for the boss that he absolutely despised. How could someone that old still run a bank? He reached the back room, taking a cup in his hand and walking to the tiny, rickety old coffee machine. As he prepared it, he heard two of the bankers, that he assumed didn't realize that he was in the room, talking. "The Hunger Games are coming up, y'know." "Yeah, thank goodness I'm too old to qualify." "That assistant, what was his name? Daren?" "No, no, it was Eric." "Eric, right. Eric's only 16 the last time I checked." "How does a kid get a job at 16 here, of all places?" "Kid's got some weird talent, maybe he used that. My point is, he qualifies for the Hunger Games." "Wouldn't that be a sight? He's too stuffy anyway, he'd never make it." "Can you imagine a kid like him all out on his own? No ability, nothing?" Eric heard a loud snicker, and one of the voices said in a mocking tone, "Oh, look at me, I'm Eric. I'm so high and mighty that I'll win the games by keeping my nose up in the air." Eric felt hot liquid spilling onto his hand, and he looked down suddenly to realize that not only had he been pressing down on the button, but he hadn't been paying attention and the cup had overflowed. Cursing under his breath, he stopped the machine, and drew out the cup, grabbing a few paper napkins from the flimsy dispenser and mopping up the mess, wincing as the rough surface of the napkins scraped across the part of his hand that had been dripping in scalding hot liquid. "Suppose I'll have to look out for rain, then," he called out, silencing the laughs that had been quietly echoing from the next room. "Wouldn't want to get soaked if my nose was up in the air." He left the room to give his boss her coffee, smirking. He'd show up to the Reaping. He'd show those people that he, the last living Ramesh, was much more then they had ever bargained for, even if he had to volunteer for someone.

---

The night had dragged on forever. Jaxon had been up all night busy at work. He had taken up a job in night security. It didn't pay much, but it allowed him to avoid being spotted by civilians. Unless of course, on the rare occurrence that some poor soul would want to rob a busted down sandwich shop. This meant that he was up all night fearing the worst- that Maci would be taken away from him again. He had just gotten her back, he couldn't imagine losing her again.
When he woke up the next morning he immediately knew that something was wrong. His suspicions were confirmed when Maci wasn't laying in bed next to him. Had the Capitol tracked her down? Jaxon wanted Maci's fears to be nothing but a delusion, but his sudden paranoia would lead him to believe anything.
Asher had assured them that they couldn't be found if they follow his instructions. Still, what if Asher was wrong?
Jaxon sits up quickly and storms around the trailer. He has only taken a few steps when he spots movement outside of the window. He finds Maci with Asher. Like every morning, the two were busy sparring with each other. Jaxon takes a moment to watch her. He can't help but stare at her with an affectionate look. She had grown in the arena. She was now a force to be reckoned with. She was tougher, braver, and far more affectionate and caring. She had started working in low-end hospitals. He didn't believe her when she said it because she wanted to stay under the radar. He knew that she loved helping those in need.
....
Sometimes Maci thought that she had two abilities. She always seemed to know when Jaxon was watching her, it was both something that he admired but also found irritating. Ducking under a jab, she vaults away from Asher and turns around to look back at Jaxon. His hair had grown long, something that he disliked, but she thought that it suited him well. His eyes widen in surprise, then turns to amusement. He steps outside and the two meet in the middle, giving each other a hug as if they haven't seen each other in years.
"You look stressed" she observes.
"Why shouldn't I be?" Jaxon replies honestly.
"Because there aren't any victors in our bloodline" Asher responds as he steps forward to join the two. His expression was calm, it always was. It was very eery, especially when he was enraged, which happened often.
"Then do we really even have to go?" Jaxon asks.
"I'd rather we don't go, it seems a bit counterproductive to hide from the Capitol all year only to return during the one time when we can be easily swarmed by Peacekeepers... but Maci is determined to go" there it was, Asher's enraged tone.
"Come on Asher, the Capitol is changing the rules of the Reaping again. They obviously have something up their sleeve-"
"So that should be why we should avoid going to the reaping" Asher points out.
"Or we could take a chance and possibly find out what the Capitol is planning- if they are planning anything!" Maci sighs, she can tell that Asher isn't totally convinced.
"You can stay behind," Jaxon tells Asher as he wraps an arm around Maci. "But if Maci wants to go then that's a risk I'm willing to take."
"You two are a pain sometimes." Asher grumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose. His eyes suddenly fluttered open and he meets both of their gazes with an annoyed expression. "Of course I'll be joining you two, but we'll be leaving as soon as the Reaping ends" his tone leaves no room for argument. Not that Maci and Jaxon would want to argue.
...
It doesn't take long for the three to get ready for the Reaping. They dress casually, not being able to afford anything fancy. The three try to walk as calmly as possible. But there is tension in their shoulders, and they seem to be looking around, expecting trouble, but trouble never comes.

Some people say that home is where the heart is. Lauriam didn't know if that was really true or not. After all, he didn't really have a heart. At least he didn't think he did. Preposterous, some might say. Because Lauriam was a kind young man, one who helped others readily and devoted his whole life to taking care of his sister. Because Lauriam could be seen, every morning at 7 on the dot with not a minute too early or a second too late, humming as he watered the plants displayed in his shop, each organism treated with care and love. Because everyone knew not to pick on Strelizia and if you do, you risk incurring the wrath of her overprotective brother as the scrawny boy would rip anyone who dared mess with his sister to shreds. Because Lauriam was a kind boy with a big heart. He would have to be, being the sole caretaker of a sickly girl two years his junior with no parents in sight. After all, their parents had abandoned them to live in the Capital. Everyone knew that it was the parents who didn't have a heart, not the perfect son that they had left behind. But Lauriam would still argue otherwise. The sins of the father were still the sins of the son.

To Lauriam, where home was is simple. Home is in a field of Bird of Paradise flowers, his sister standing amongst her namesake; laughing without a care in the world. Home was the smell of soil and earth, of cat fur as the twin stray cats that Strelizia had taken in began to shed. Again. Home was Strelizia. And Strelizia was home. It was that simple. But home was not were the heart was for Strelizia could not hold what did not exist. Given the chance, and he had been given them multiple times, he would have left her alone, wailing and crying in a dark alley just as their parents had done to him. Like father like son. For what reason did he stick by his sniveling and weak sister's side was a constant topic of thought for him. Perhaps it was because she had nothing in the world apart from him. Lauriam was the sole rock in her life, her protector. Or perhaps it was to satisfy his own twisted desire to be needed, to be wanted, to hold on to that right to still exist because what good is a child who couldn't do anything for anyone? But ultimately, the past is the past and Lauriam had risen above the hurdles life whacked him over the head with and he was now living comfortably, devoting most of his time now to teaching his sister less practical but still important lessons.

But even without a heart, Lauriam was content with his lot in life. He was as kind as he was cruel, his duality keeping other kids from picking on his family. After all, the area that he had lived in for so long wasn't exactly the kindest nor the safest. At least the housing was cheap. Like each morning, Lauriam woke up at 6, crawling out of bed with the rising of the sun. With half lidded eyes, he gently watered the plants living on his window sill, changing into more suitable attire for the day as he made sure that each plant got their needed moisture. After shaking his sister awake (who wouldn't be up for another hour but at this point it was just as much of a habit as it was tradition), Lauriam would heat up yesterday's leftovers before heading out to his shop at 7 sharp, humming as he began to water each plant with meticulous care. Greetings were given and received, shop keepers and shoppers alike giving their morning wishes to the familiar boy with dyed hair. The only difference today was the presence of the "Closed" sign, even as the flowers perked up after their morning watering. With a satisfied nod, Lauriam ducked back into the house, and knocked on Strelizia's door again. "'Litzie, no more '5 more minutes' we'll be late!" He called, plating up the earlier made breakfast. There was a muffled groan from the room before Strelizia finally stumbled out, hair mussed and eyes bleary.

"Laur, where?" She mumbled, nearly tripping over her feet as Luriam handed off her food.

Ruffling her hair, Lauriam led her sister to one of the chairs in the room, sitting her down as he began to run his fingers through her hair. "Reaping, remember? Its a Quarter Quell so we'll have to be careful. I don't know what the theme is this year." Pulling his sister's hair into low hanging pigtails, tying them off with Bird of Paradise stems that he plucked from the nearby plant. Strelizia hummed busy stuffing her cheeks with porridge. It was kind of adorable. With a smile, Lauriam ruffled his sisters hair, ignoring her sounds of complaint as he picked out the nicest clothes that she had to wear to the reaping.

---

As Robin, Gabriella, and Harmony headed to the reaping, Robin's tentacle poked out of her upper back again. Gabriella gently poked the tentacle under Robin's shawl. "Your tentacle's doing that thing again."

Robin rolled her eyes. "It does that, still can't quite control it yet." The tentacle slowly retracted into Robin's back again. Harmony's eyes flitted about as if trying to see, which in reality, she couldn't. She couldn't see at all since birth having been born blind.

---

It was time for the reaping. Zoe's prison uniform had been replaced by a cotton light blue shirt and thin black pants, the most that they could do to make it formal was give her a hair tie to tie her hair up with. With Zoe having no family that was available to send fresh clothing, that was the best that they could do. Of course, Zoe hated it, but at least she was getting out of prison. If it was to die, she would die shaking her fist and throwing a few choice words in the Capitol's face. Though when it really came down to it she knew that she would do everything to get out of there. She didn't want to die in a world of the Capitol's design. They had controlled everything, she intended to be the one who decided when and where she died. But not yet. Not while she could still defy the Capitol. That would have to wait until after she won. The police car pulled up near the building where the reaping would take place. There were a few families that were already walking, but the few that were nearest to the car immieadeintly looked away and sped up. One Peacekeeper opened the door, moving out to the back where Zoe was sitting. Two Peacekeepers had been assigned to her, since, technically, she wasn't on parole quite yet. The Peacekeeper opened the door and helped Zoe out. Her hands were clasped in front of her, no handcuffs necessary. While one Peacekeeper walked behind them, the other had a firm grip on Zoe's arm. *Even after saying I'm ready for parole, they don't trust me,* she thought, slightly amused by that. Everyone was so afraid of her, and yet they refused to show it. They avoided the subject like the plague. But that Zoe didn't care about one bit. She did look around at the others around her. There were a few groups that didn't seem to have noticed her yet. Would their reactions be like the others? She knew that her "crimes" had been recorded and that she wasn't exactly unknown. But, it wasn't really breaking news in any sense. So, perhaps, maybe they didn't know. Zoe didn't know their situations, or even how much they cared. She wasn't one to assume, especially since after her own father was taken in by the Capitol they had a hard time with money, so she never once made any final assurances to herself on how they would react to her, or if they even would. All that she could do was wait and see. But after a minute, she turned to stare straight ahead, her ponytail swinging from side to side as she walked. She was almost tempted to speed up, get it to smack one of the Peacekeepers in the face, but she didn't want to go back to jail. She knew that it was her fault that she was in jail, besides the accident that was the main reason why she had been there in the first place, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Eric had returned to his apartment when the news that the Reaping was about to begin had reached him at work. He had been given leave by his boss, which was rare. But of course, the Reaping meant special circumstances, and special circumstances meant near miracles. He stood in front of his apartment, digging in his pocket for his keys. He finally found them, unlocking the door and stepping inside. A short while later, he was standing in front of a mirror, fiddling with the dark blue tie that matched the dark purple suit that had been a begrudging Christmas gift from one of his coworkers. He may have had a fairly good-paying job, but it didn't mean that he earned any more than enough for the bare necessities. Things were expensive if you weren't in the Capitol. In fact, upon closer inspection, it was clear that this suit was well worn. But it was good enough. And besides, even if Eric was picked, no one would notice those tiny details that were only so clear since he was standing right in front of the mirror. With a deep breath, he straightened his tie, fixed the collar of his shirt, and scooped up his keys and wallet from the bed where he had placed them while preparing for the Reaping. Running a hand through his hair, he quickly made it out of the building, in double time. To most, it would have seemed that he was actually excited for the Reaping. But in truth, Eric just absolutely hated being late for things and it was, after all, a bit of a walk. He started off, joining the groups of people going in the same direction. He blended in rather easily with the crowd, as most had done their best to dress up for the occasion. Good. The only reason that Eric would be stepping into the spotlight would be to join the tributes on the stage. Call it foolish, call it dramatic. Maybe it was even pride. But really, that was just how Eric worked.

---

Several odd looks were thrown here and there as Angie strolled easily towards the Reaping. It clearly wasn't common to see a young girl go to such an event, but a young girl alone? That was a completely different idea. However, Angie was blissfully unaware of the stares and looks and glanced. There were a few people that gained her looks and glanced, though. One of them seemed to have need for bodyguards, seeing the two Peacekeepers near her. That did spark Angie's curiosity. Her father was plenty wealthy, but she'd never seen him with any bodyguards. Unless, of course, you counted the handgun constantly hanging on the wall and the amount of heat he could produce in his mechanical hands. Angie's stride quickened a little as the strange woman vanished into the crowd, hoping to catch up a little.


---


Terra and Cherry followed their parents as they were told, their eyes fixed ahead and their backs straight. They were the noble Osiris family, they had to keep up appearances. However, they found that few people actually looked at them. Terra was almost tempted to slouch a little, seeing as nobody was turning towards them. His back did ache... Cherry's whisper broke through his thoughts. "Don't you dare." He straightened up a little, his twin giving a satisfied sigh as they proceeded into the place where the Reaping would soon occur.

For the most part, Zoe stared straight ahead. She didn't return any of the glances that came her way, and she didn't seem to react to the fact that for the most part, people gave her a wide berth. On the inside, it did hurt to have people avoid her. Why didn't they realize that it was an accident, the burning of the building? The rest wasn't, she meant it with all her heart when she punched out that Peacekeeper, she meant to steal from the Capitol. That was a message. The only message that she could make. But not only had it landed her in prison, but people avoided her. They didn't see it the way that it really was. They were blinded by the Capitol but refused to see the truth. They refused to let someone open their eyes, and preferred this tortured existence. Zoe was drawn out of her thoughts as she realized that she had the strangest feeling that she was being followed. Of course, they were surrounded by people, but this felt...different.

(Oop, sorry it's short)

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A few mutters sparked up as the young Angie made her way towards Zoe. This young woman interested her, so, as any young child might, she was intent on trying to figure something out. Slowly, she managed to draw closer, until she was nearly directly behind a peacekeeper. A small face flickered in the Peacekeeper's shadow, Lukian's subtle reminder that he was there. Gathering a bit of courage, Angie stepped forwards, hoping to introduce herself.

The Peacekeeper could immieadeintly sense that someone was behind him, and he turned around. Zoe felt his grip shift, so she knew that something was going on. Why else would he turn around? She turned around as well, and this time, without intention, her ponytail smacked the other peacekeeper in the face. As he rubbed his face indignantly, eyes blinking, she had already turned her attention to the little girl behind her. One, no kid that young should be here. None of them should. Secondly, why was she alone? Zoe figured that she saw the Peacekeepers and was asking for help, and she was young enough that she wouldn't know who Zoe was. The Peacekeeper was about to say something, but Zoe interrupted him. She wanted to talk to the kid. "Hey kid, need something?"

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After a moment of what seemed to be thinking, Angie extended her right hand towards Zoe, the left one staying behind her back. "I'm Angie. What's your-..." She cut herself off, seemingly thinking of a better thing to say: "And you are?" She'd heard her father say it, so she had supposed it was just a fancy way of greeting.

"I'm Zoe, Angie." After a minute of hesitation, Zoe stuck out one gloved hand. She hadn't thought about how awkward shaking hands would be with these things. But Angie didn't seem like the kind of person to mind those things. "Err...are your parents here? I don't think they'd want you hanging around me." *No one wants their kid talking to an arsonist,* she thought with a hint of amusement.

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"They're at work," she said simply. "But Luke is here with me, so that's alright." Whoever 'Luke' might have been, it didn't seem he was really looking out for Angie. At least, it wouldn't seem that way to anybody but Angie. However, to Angie, Luke was just over there, in that shadow. Or just behind that tree, stretching towards the branches and becoming undetectable.

"Ah..I see." Was Luke an older brother? A friend? He didn't seem to be around, or very responsible. An 8-year-old really shouldn't be talking to a criminal. An 8 year old shouldn't even be here, though, so maybe she was overthinking the situation. "Angie, you, you do know that strangers are dangerous, right?" But it still nagged at her why this little girl was being so confident in front of a total stranger, and she wanted to know if she would react the way adults did. So it was a little experiment.

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"Welllll...." Her voice had grown a little louder as she went on with the word, as if working up to something. "Since I know you and you know me, you're not a stranger anymore, right?" She said it so confidently that one might have been able to believe it, if it hadn't been coming from the mouth of an eight-year-old. Almost like she'd had it planned, or had somebody tell her what to say. She remembered what Derek had said when justifying why exactly he and his wife should adopt her: 'She's bright, courageous, funny, friendly.. She's the perfect daughter.'

Things were getting dangerous. Or at least, that's what Asher, Maci, and Jaxon thought as they stood in line waiting to check into the Reaping. Asher looks obviously uncomfortable. This was it, this was proof that he was still alive and that he had attended the Reaping. He considers fleeing, but thinks better of it, he'd rather die than be a coward.

The Peacekeeper fixes the three with an astonished look, the poor girl looks like she is going to faint when she registers that Asher is the one and only Asher Lam, the man who was supposed to be long dead. Asher glares at her and gives her triumphant smile before leading Maci and Jaxon deep into the crowd, far from the Peacekeeper's gaze.

Maci stands next to Angie. At first, she ignores the girl, at least until she realizes that she is alone. She glances around, wondering if her parents might've lost her. Her eyes lift up to glance at the Peacekeeper holding Zoe. An alarmed look crosses over her face and she immediately lowers her head to the ground, trying to act socially invisible.

Jaxon senses her unease and opens his mouth to ask her what was wrong, that's when he notices the Peacekeeper too. He gently grabs her and holds her in front of him, shielding her from his gaze, just in case he happened to look over at them.

After a few minutes, the Osiris clan soon approached the Reaping. As they confirmed who they were and entered the area, Phenix started to look around, slowly analyzing the crowd. After but a few moments, he gasped. "By god, it's her..." Turning to his family, he smiled. "I've just spotted an old friend, and I'm going to speak to her. If you would like to come along, you may." At that, Cherry pinned herself to his side and they started over towards Maci. Gently setting a hand of Jaxon's shoulder, he whispered, "Why, the Lam collection.. I didn't fancy seeing you here."

Jaxon visibly tenses up, expecting a fight. Even Asher had managed to pick up on his unease. He clenches his jaw and faces Phenix with clenched fists.
Unsurprisingly, it's Maci who ends up calming the two down. She gasps in surprise and pulls Phenix in for a hug. "Phenix? It's good to finally see you again!" She pulls away and beams at him. "It's been forever! How has life been treating you?"
Asher makes a small warning sound in the back of his throat. Both for how loud Maci was, and for what she had said. Maci may trust him, but he certainly did not. Maci ignores this, it felt good to talk to an old friend again. Although she does remind herself that she should avoid drawing unwanted attention.

With both siblings having changed into the least ratty clothes they had, Lauriam gently took Strelizia's hand. As they were about to walk out, one of the strays came up to tangle her body in between the sibling's legs, meowing loudly. "Lauri, did you forget to feed the Chirithies again?" Strelizia giggled as she picked up the mewling kitten.

"I was going to do it later today..." Lauriam defended himself with a laugh but put down some cooked chicken from the night before into the kitten's bowls. He was way too weak for his sister's whims anyways. He also wouldn't admit it ever but the cats were growing on him, the twin animals reminding him a lot of himself and his sister. With the house pests fed and purring content with their lives, the siblings finally set out to the Reaping. While the Ponderosa name wasn't an exactly unknown name ever since his no good father won the games, Lauriam never made an effort to flaunt of his lineage. Certainly he never told Sterlizia about it, preferring to keep the only part of his life untainted by that man's influence far away from the pain the name carried. Keeping his hand in hers, Lauriam led Strelizia into the wealthier areas where signs of their poorer upbringing was more evident. There was a group of Peacekeepers slightly down the road with a girl and a young child so Lauriam steered clear of them keeping his sister close. While he could respect peacekeepers and their duties, it didn't mean that Lauriam had to like them. The stigma that poorer kids like him brought was enough for him to be wary of authority figures. It didn't help that when it was finally their time to be registered for the reaping, both siblings blood was taken a bit more forcefully than the rest, eliciting a pained little yip from Strelizia. "Hey!" Lauriam barked, shooting a glare at the unapologetic peacekeeper. "We're people too, asshole."

"It's not worth it Lauri. Let's just go." Strelizia hurriedly whimpered, pushing him into the reaping arena itself. Lauriam snarled one last time but allowed himself to be pushed away. "You really don't have to do that every time." She sighed once they were situated in a relatively less crowded area. "I can protect myself Lauri. I'm thirteen. When you were thirteen you already opened up shop."

How many times have they talked about this? Lauriam had honestly lost count but it was something their sibling refused to let go of. Stubbornness was an acquired trait after all. "This and that are different, 'Litzie. I'm not letting you go through what I went through and if that makes me overprotective, then so be it." You're already weak enough. As if to prove his unspoken argument, Strelizia muffled a cough into her sleeves, Lauriam frantically pulling out a well worn medicine bottle and uncapping the dented white cap. "See? You don't worry about yourself enough so someone has to." He chided lightly, gently rubbing his sisters back before pressing the home grown herbs into her hand.

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