Forum Thread

Living in District 5 had never been interesting. It was always the same thing. Get up, go to work, eat, sleep. Rise repeat. There was nothing worth the trouble here in the boonies where the most exciting thing that could happen is a malfunction in the dams. Once upon a time, Asahiko had liked work. Had liked submerging himself in the raging waves and diving under to replace broken tiles and connect fraying wires. He had liked the feeling of isolation that his job gave him but as the years passed so did the rose-tinted lens. When he had been "promoted" (code for reassigned because no one could keep a job in the hell hole they lived it), Asahiko found that working was just the capital's way of pushing their problems onto them and ignoring it in favour of partying in their utopia

The games were much the same. They were used to control the population, both in terms of obedience and numbers. Why would anyone rebel when there wasn't any able bodied person to rebel with? Sliding on his nice pair of work pants, Asahiko sighed and half-heartedly adjusted his ragged hair. Reaping days always brought out the melancholy that thrived in the Districts, filling the streets with dread and inevitable death. Asahiko had long since grown numb to the fear, his hunched form buckling under the sadness and the celebrations. Normalcy, after all, was an illusion to mask just how horrid everything was. There was absolutely nothing that could distract from the fact that each year the capital made a festival of a tragedy.

It was with these dour thoughts that Asahiko dragged himself to the reaping, not quite listening to the names being called. He never cared for these things anyway.

---

It was after they had been tagged that Seyoung finally let go of Hwa's hand, one hand coming to smooth out any stray hairs. "Stay safe, Starlight." He uttered, running a hand through the coarsely dyed hair. It came as a surprise for Seyoung to use their old nicknames for each other, back when names had been to dangerous to give but trust still had to be built. Now it was rarely used, an affectionate reminder of their beginnings and a hope for the future

Hwa only beamed and nodded with a tinkering giggle. "You worry to much. I'll be fine Sparkles." She cooed, leaning into the touch briefly before stepping back. "Okay, now tell me where to go. I have no idea what I'm doing." At the admission, Seyoung threw his head back and burst out laughing, drawing incredulous stares at the sound of joy during an event meant to lead a lamb to their slaughter. But even as glares were passed over their heads, Hwa couldn't help but smile. Things would be alright, even if it did take a while for the two of them to school their faces back into neutrality.

"Over there, with the girls. You're up front because you're a baby." Seyoung teased, pointing to where she would have to go. Hwa stuck her tongue out, unable to come up with any witty replies, as she walked backwards towards where she was supposed to go. Hwa couldn't really understand why people were separated into boys and girls because Hwa didn't really fit in either, the labels of either gender not quite fitting with what Hwa wanted. It was fine though, Hwa could play the part of a girl well enough so she wiggled her way to the front, beside the other clammy faced girls. To those beside her, Hwa gave bright smiles and comforting squeezes to their hands before someone with ostentatious clothing stepped up on stage. Her wild wig and colourful clothes were jarring among the drab background, marking her as an outsider among the crowd. Despite this, she carried herself with poise and grace, clearing her throat delicately. And just like that, Hwa's first reaping began

Just as Seyoung had warned, it was a monotonous affair. The lady droned on and one about the capital, about the glories of the games, and most importantly reminding the masses that they were inferior in every single way. It was a little infuriating, Hwa had to admit. It seemed like forever when the speech finally ended along with the gruesome video which showed someone bashing a tribute's head in with a brick. It had made Hwa's stomach roll in disgust and she could hear a few of the girls down the roll emptying their stomachs. Many children in their district didn't like to watch the Games, opting instead to work on the fields for experience while the adults were glued to their chairs, watching the morbid display of capital might. For many, it would be one of the first times watching someone be brutally murdered. The Capital woman gently coughed into her fist, high heels clacking across the floor as she shuffled back up towards the microphone.

"Now wasn't that just wonderful? Oh it brings tears to my eyes every time I watch it." She fake sobbed, even going as far as to dab at her dry eyes. "With that over though, we come to the good part. As always, Ladies first." The lady once again did her little shuffle, hands wiggling above the clear bowl stuffed with blank slips of paper. Hwa held her breath as those perfectly manicured nails dipped into the sea of white, sifting around the waters until acrylic claws grabbed onto one specific slip. Hwa didn't know why her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, deafening everything. She figured it was the nerves of her very first reaping and that it would pass soon. It wasn't a big deal and she took deep breaths to calm herself. Slowly but surely, the ringing faded and her racing heart slowed into a steady thrum. Putting a hand over her chest, she breathed out and directed her gaze back onto the stage only to see the capital woman staring right at her.

"Hwa, dearie. Come on up. You've been picked."

---

District 9 REAPING

Majoree Sinclair.

Majoree Sinclair.

Majoree Sinclair.

The Sinclairs were a long-standing noble family of District 9. Rumoured to be descended from Capitol citizens, they'd received the top privileges after the war. Wealth poured in through their investments and the workers who slipped around Majoree as a child. Even from the young age of six, she'd wondered about those people- wondered why she didn't have to stay in one of their houses and receive the same red welts on her cheek that the maid's children had.

Sinclairs are special, she was told. You're one of them. They're beneath you. But even with those sharp words bouncing around her brain- a Sinclair was chosen for the Reaping a Sinclair was chosen for the Reaping- She'd continued to wonder.

Once, a gardener's son had caughten ill. Majoree had crept to his side and offered him the same thing Chia had offered her- a thick soup of her own childish concotion.

For once she received one of the same red welts. She was yanked away, and the soup splattered on his face. As she'd been pulled along the hallway by the arm, her eldest sister spitting curses and admonishes, she'd never been able to forget his expression.

Confusion.

He couldn't understand why she'd been kind to him.

A child her age couldn't understand the concept of kindness.

Even now, she felt like laughing. At the world- at the words which spelled across the piece of paper the woman in the front held up. Majoree Sinclair, Majoree Sinclair- AT THE STUPID NAME WHICH STILL-

Chia's hand slipped from hers.

Eyes all on her, she crept up, clutching the folds of her dress in her hand. Her palm was sweaty. She tried to wipe it away, but it just smeared on the silky fabric. Each step felt like a mountain of its own- One challenge after another, but one she must surmount in order to face death- in order to die she had to work-

For the first time in her life she had to work. She would've laughed had it not been so chillingly ironic.

"My dear, how lovely you look in your dress! It's simply beautiful on you!" Her affected accent would've made Majoree laugh if she hadn't felt as sick as she did at that moment. "Well, cheers for our female tribute of the year! Majoree Sinclair!" She smiled broadly.

Majoree wondered distantly if she'd see Chia looking at her now- if her expression would be as sickened as Majoree's heart felt right now. "Glad to be here." The words felt like lead in her throat. Clearly, the Capitol woman had never had such an eager tribute before. Her smile somehow managed to grow.

Thankfully, she didn't start on more empty compliments, instead starting for the second bowl. "Boys next~"

A feeling roared in Majoree's ears. A poor boy. Someone who'd have paired perfectly with the girl she'd expected to see in her place. Someone who she'd have to get close to- who she wouldn't just have to pity on a screen, because oh god she was going on with him...

The lady tsked as a slip fell from her fingers. The crowd exhaled as one. She took a new one, and they all held their breath again-

She unfolded it, and the name she read said...

---

To be honest with you, Faith really couldn’t care less about the reaping. Or maybe she cared too much. Either way, her gut feeling told her she would be picked. And then so be it. If she was picked, then she would compete. “We’re all going to die in a couple years anyway. What does it matter that we’re shortening it?” She remarks, to the utter surprise and shock of others. Faith is pulling her boot out from the mud when she remembers the Reaping. She goes up there, carrying with her a small metal box, a creation of her own— being from District 3


Lilith skips out of District 8, her hair in pigtails. She smiles, waving at everyone. Granted, the smile was rather sinister, and doll like, but it was a smile nevertheless. “It’s the day of the Reaping, I hope I get picked. It’s the day of the reaping, I’m gonna stab you with a stick.” She sings, to the tune of ring-a-round-a-rosie. Her voice was clear and sweet. She looked and acted the part of a doll. In her hands, Lilith carries a doll, that looks something like this.

---

*Grimm would quietly slip way from her house, she was expecting that she would be picked, it had to happen. She was nervous, she knew she wouldn’t be coming back. She reminded herself of her oath she had to keep. She quietly and swiftly made her way to the train station. She began to thing of all the helpful ways her body had for the games. She was small so that made her harder to find and harder to hit, she was mute so she couldn’t make any noises that would give away her positioning. And her greatest attribute was her extraordinarily great knowledge and practice of tending to injuries and sicknesses. She just hoped she wouldn’t be put out as an easy target due to her flaws. She would find a bench and would wait for the train*

---

Aether only felt hollow, no emotion to go with her beloved brother's sudden death. She just felt empty, and that's what she was. An empty well sprouting a pool of tears. She now had nothing, nothing to live for and nothing to lose. She sat on the ground in front of her brother for what felt like ages until peacekeepers burst through her door and demanded that she came to the reaping. She said nor did anything, which prompted them to grab her by the arms and haul her outside. Through the emptiness that filled her head and muffled her hearing, she could pick up that the ones who grabbed her ordered some of them to take care of Dante. She couldn't even lift her head to look at him one last time, or lift her arm to break free of the grasp of the peacekeepers. She was dragged all across the ground, getting her once beautiful dress all muddy and torn. It wasn't long before she arrived at the stage and thrown into the crowd of girls. Everyone was looking at her and watching as this happened, seeing as how she was the last one to get there. "Ah, there she is! Poor Aether, look how miserable she looks!" The obnoxiously dressed lady on the stage cheerfully spoke, clearly putting on an act. Aether just laid on the floor as everyone had their attention on her, and murmurs about her begun floating around. Some had caught on about what happened, hearing her scream, seeing her expression, and seeing the lack of her brother's presence. Some rumors even began to spread, like how she had murdered Dante in cold blood, or something similar to that.

"Now, let's begin, shall we?" She announced, pointing to the screens set up behind the stage, where a video begun to play. It showed examples of the gruesome things everyone would be expected to see in the arena, but all Aether did was stare blankly at the ground below. After the video played, a glass bowl with a sea of paper strips was brought to everyone's attention, and an announcement was made once again by the woman that the names would now be drawn.
"I volunteer as tribute..."
Aether spoke quietly, before another word was said. Of course, her voice was low and coarse, only heard by those around her. People begun to look at her again, which caught the attention of the one on stage. "I'm sorry, did someone say something? Oh, it's Aether! Honey, can you please speak up?" Hearing that voice only made Aether angrier, causing her to quickly stand up with the most violent look on her face anyone has ever seen.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"
Her voice boomed across the district, so loud that everyone could hear her. Aether slowly begun to walk towards the stage, her fists clentched and her teeth gritted. "My my, why so eager?" She looked around the crowd to hopefully spot anyone who came with Aether, but with the absence of said person and the whispers she heard, she finally pieced it together. "Oh Aether, sweetie, where's Dante? Shouldn't he be here, cheering you on in the crowd?" At that moment, she snapped. Aether was already on stage, so all she had to do was make a quick movement towards her throat. she grabbed the collar of the fancy jacket the woman was wearing and nearly lifted her off the ground, her fist so tight it was purple. "He'd dead..." "N-now now... No need to be brash... I was only-" "He's dead... Dante is dead... All because of YOU!" Before Aether could do any damage, peacekeepers quickly pulled them away from each other and stood between the two, probably to protect the lady. She, on the other hand, was fixing herself up with shaky hands and doing her best to continue like nothing happened. "Ahem... Anyways, let's move onto the boys!" From there, Aether couldn't focus on her words anymore. She fell numb to her senses and stood there silently, waiting for something to happen. She only barely saw a scrawny kid be called up to the stage, terrified out of his mind, before her hand was raised and her name was called.

"Say hello to the tributes of District 10, Aether Vollenthroe and ....!"

Normally, now would be a time for everyone to say goodbye to their family, but it wasn't like Aether had any. Not anymore at least. She watched from afar as the kid said goodbye to his own family, and them taking glances over at her while doing so. They had a look of both fear and concern, like they wanted to comfort her about her brother, but were too scared of what she would do.

---

Reaping day. His least favorite day of the year, right after his birthday. He hated this day, because every passing year increased his chances of being chosen, of being sent away to the hellish battle royale that was the Hunger Games. He was considered an oddball by most kids in this district. Most kids trained their entire lives, willingly, for a chance at the Hunger Games. Not him. He trained, sure, but not because he wanted to go, but because there was a possibility for him to go.

Maybe he wouldn't be chosen. Maybe he would luck out today, the last reaping day for him. The reaping started with the female tribute. A small child, no older than 12, was chosen. He watched in silence as an older girl, closer to 15, stepped up and volunteered. So concluded the reaping of the female tribute of district 4.

"And now to choose the male tribute of district 4," the man annouced, putting his hand back in the orb. Kendo waited. And prayed, to whatever god could save him from the games. ". . . Our male tribute is... Kendo Sato!"

His blood ran cold, and it felt as though someone had stabbed him in the heart. He was a runner in a marathon, only a few more steps to go, only to trip on a rock. Falling at the final hurdle. If he hadn't been chosen this single year, he would have been able to live his life, free of the worry of being chosen. But his hopes were shattered, as the crowd parted around him, and he was taken away by the Peacekeepers, away to the Hunger Games.

---

His father's words wrung in his ears as he made his way to the square. Was it actually happening? Was it? Or was he delusional?
"Jason. You know how much we have spent on you. From your training...to education...to all your needs. It is time that you repaid us son, and I believe you are very ready for it. Now, go forth, and volunteer, like your grandfather once did. And I know you will succeed. You will return."
And so he sat through the reaping of the female tribute, thinking about these words. And so he continued till the male tribute's name was called out- not his. It was an 18 year old from his school. "Mark Luthor". He did not know him, and he did not have to volunteer. But did he not? Did he actually have a choice? As he glanced over to where his dad sat waiting, he was looking right at Jason. Glaring at him. The expression was clear...if he did not volunteer...no, he had to volunteer. And so, without another thought, he got up from his seat, and jogged down towards the stage, before anyone else could take the place. "I volunteer!" He shouted, through masked emotions. Anyone who saw him now would feel he was just another career, eager to participate. Even his friends back at school, knew he had been training for it. Little many people knew that he did not actually want to volunteer. He marched up the stairs of the stage, muttering "I volunteer" again."Very well!" The woman from the Capitol replied. "Jason...Hill! It is then. The male tribute from District 1."
He was scared, he was angry, and he was just a lil bit confused, as everyone cheered for him. His friends, to his father. His mother however, was silent. Looking at him with pursed lips. But he had mastered to mask his emotions well enough not to show a concern in the world.

As he was given the chance to meet his loved ones over back at the tower, he greeted everyone through a mask, acting as if he had been planning it all along, volunteering for sport. The meeting with his dad and Emily was short and abrupt, with him saying, "I'm proud of you. May the odds ever be in your favour." and Emily, not knowing how serious it was, the Hunger Games, joked about how he was finally going to the arena after making a fuss about it for 5 years!
A group of friends came to meet him, and they cheered him on and told him he could do it. But they were all obviously jealous, and some even scared. Scared for him? Couldn't be- or were they scared about losing a friend? However things turned out, he wouldn't be the same as he had been. He would either be changed, or scarred. Scarred for life with the blood of 23 in his hands. Of course, he wasn't planning on killing all of them, but knowing how it was to be a chain reaction anyways, you could very well say the victor killed em all.
The only person, that saw through his mask, was his mother. She came in hurrying through the doors, being very late to meet him. They almost had the doors shut, but his family's reputation let her pass. "Oh Jason, my dear Jason...take care of yourself, okay? Don't die. You have to come back for me- you have to." Tears welled in her eyes. Jason was surprised, knowing how strong his mum was. Did she actually not believe him, despite all the encouraging words all those years? "I will mumma, I will come back. It's just a matter of 4 months- don't cry too much!" He attempted a shake smile at his joke, but finally gave in, and leaned on her, as she sat by him, crying into her shoulders. Right then, was when the peacekeepers came in, stating it was very late, and he had to be taken to the train now. Through shaky breath, his mother gave him the last piece of advice he would hear for a while..."Remember, do not kill any more than you have to." It seemed strange to him, how the Hunger Games revolved around killing others, but it also made sense. She probably meant for him to stay out of bloodbaths. To let the game progress naturally until he needs to kill someone, either out of self defence, or...to win.
Finally, before the peacekeepers split them apart, her mother popped something into his mouth. It was a chocolate. A small chocolate, with a berry at its core. He loved this handmade treat, and he had not had one of these in years, with his mum stopping to cook. He used to get one of these everytime he did a good deed... whether it was to do a chore, or to help someone out. Now, going out to the Hunger Games felt nothing more than an elaborate chore to him, set up by his father. And so, with the taste of berries and chocolate mixing in his mouth, he finally let them take him away, off to the train.

---

“Faith Lynn Ryder. You have been picked.” Faith strolls up the stage causally hands in pockets. She then heads to say goodbye. I know it’s painful mama, but I won’t be gone long. I’ll emerge victorious, I promise. Her mom smiles, squeezing her shoulder gently. The pair sit in silence, until the Peacekeepers shove her onto the train. She doesn’t mind, simply waving cheerfully at her mother, before heading for the train.

“Lilith Amber—“ Before her full name is called, she skips onto the stage, her finger pressed against the speaker’s lips. “Shh, shh. There now, don’t speak any further and you’ll be fine. In fact, have a lollipop.” She shoves one into the speaker’s mouth, before skipping away, still holding her doll. Moments later, said speaker collapses. Lilith grins at the Peacekeepers, her pigtails swinging from side to side, as she hopped on board the train, then off again giggling at the struggling peacekeepers who were confused and also trying to revive the speaker. She skipped several rounds around them, seemingly overjoyed

---

Kendo stepped onfo the train, fidgeting and nervous, but he knew, that it didnt matter. No one would miss him anyways. It wasn't like his parents cared. He took a moment to gathrr his thoughts, as he sat down. He cursed internally as the situation sank in. It was the last year for him before he could be done with the reaping, but no. He had to be chosen. It probably had something to do with the 64 slips he had put in. But still, he knew people who put in more. "Nothing to do but wait, I guess."

---

It was right when the peacekeepers began escorting the family out that they finally begun to spoke out and call her name. "Aether? Aether, dear, would you like to come over?" The mother's request gave her a strange feeling, one she had felt minutes prior. Her tone was soft and caring, like her brother's, only with a small, well masked fear lingering in the words. It comforted Aether to hear something like that again, especially after what had just occured, causing her to listen. She slowly got up, pain plastered all over her face, and hesitantly walked over. Once she sat down, a warm hand slowly landed on her cheek, sending shock throughout her body. The feeling was almost identical to the feeling she felt with her family, when she still had them. The solid wall around her heart began to soften and pent-up emotions begun to pour through her. Tears began to fall, and her head did too. She shut her eyes tight and looked at the ground, streams of tears flowin down her face. She began to mutter unintelligible things, but the words that could be heard consisted of 'I'm so sorry', ' Why am I like this', and 'Why is this world so cruel', among other things. "There there... It's going to be ok..." She could still feel the presence of the male tribute, but it wasn't awkward. It was more comforting and mourning.

After a long moment was taken for Aether to let out her emotions, the boy's mother started off with a strange request. "If anything ever happens to my son... Please, please make sure it isn't painful..." She could see that his mother had a tear in her eye as well, but her voice never wavered. "That goes for you too, son... Please make sure Aether doesn't die alone, or at least not painfully..." Before anything else could be said, the family was informed that they had to leave immediately, to which they did, leaving the boy and Aether to sit alone, in complete silence.

"I-I'm so sorry... I can't imagine what you're going through..." Was the little whisper that came from the trembling boy's mouth. He was pretty down as well, but still felt the need to comfort Aether. She had no clue why, considering they never knew each other and the only thing that's changed was his mother feeling sorry for her. Speaking of, wasn't his family one of the more... let's say, prejudiced? She would always give Aether skeptical looks as she walked by, and every time she walked hom from the butchery, her clothes covered in blood, she would always turn away and act like Aether was a freak. Her son and husband picked up on this behavior too, always avoiding her and acting like she was a serial killer. What the hell was this... As soon as a poor, lonely 16 year old was sent off to a place where she would be forced to kill, everyone felt sorry for her. What sick joke was that? What changed about her situation? Why did people suddenly pity her, now of all times? Why did they never help her when she actually needed it? Her brother had to deal with her stupid messed up head alone, and no one bothered to help him. He had to deal with the fact that his beloved sister could go insane and start a killing spree for so many years, it must've been unbearable for him. No... His death wasn't just in the hands of these stupid games, it was in the hands of the people of the district too.

---

You could hear a pin drop before a furious yell burst out from the crowd. "What are you doing?! They're twelve! A child! Are you seriously going to let a child die just to save yourself?!" Squeaking in surprise, Hwa whirled around to find Seyoung writhing against two Peacekeepers, eyes blazing with desperation as he howled and hollered. "We are all victims here yet you choose a child to be your scapegoat?! How low can you seriously go? You all shou-urk" With a firm slam of the back of a gun to the head, Seyoung fell silent and crashed onto the dirty floor, unmoving, a small pool of red leaking out from under Seyoung's head that dyed his brown locks a rusted black. Rationally, Hwa knew that Seyoung wasn't dead, just unconscious but that didn't stop the fear from lancing through her body. She oh so desperately wanted to leap off the stage and run to her brother's side but a sharp look from the Peacekeepers on stage kept her firmly rooted in place, watching as Seyoung's prone form was dragged away through the dusty roads and out of sight

In her head, Hwa kept repeating that Seyoung wasn't dead. He was alive, she had seen the barely visible rise and fall of his chest, she knew that it would take a harder blow than that to crack open a skull, she knew that there wasn't enough blood shed to be life threatening. He knew it yet it didn't stop the hysteria that sprinted around in his fear addled brain, fueling the panic. Seyoung was going to die and it was all her fault.

As if the whole debacle didn't happen, the Capital woman tittered into the mic. "Now that was certainly exciting!" She chirped, her out of place accent driving home how twisted everything was. "But we mustn't delay the fun for much longer! From the boys, your tribute is-"

---

"Asahiko Akaho"

The name was repeated again as no one came forth. It was only after the third time, the announcers voice taking on a worried and slightly annoyed edge, did Asahiko finally step forward. It was fun, watching others squirm when they realized who exactly held such a sunny name, his appearance in no way matching it. Sauntering up to stage, he shook the female tributes hand and grinned, letting serrated teeth do all the talking he needed to. The small squeak of terror she let out was so hilarious that he wheezed out a rattling laugh before striding away to wait by the train. No one would visit him anyways.

---

Raiyhan Vale.

The male tribute of District 9.

Can he please step forward?

Raiyhan's smile faltered. Him? Tribute?

He couldn't process this horrifying truth.

He felt dull, all of a sudden, as the words echoed in his ears.

Tribute. Tribute. Tribute.

He looked around, but no one spared a glance his way.

No one, said anything.

No one cared.

Tribute. Tribute. Tribute.

Raiyhan made his way silently to the podium, his once cheeky grin replaced by a grimace of horror.

He glanced at the female tribute of his District, a girl he barely knew.

He would have to fight with her, against her even.

He wasn't prepared for this, never thought of his name being Reaped.

As his heart hammered in his skull, a thought reverberated in Raiyhan's mind.

I can't win.

I can't win.

I can't win.

I'm going to die.

---

Minya Reedshaw.

The small girl lifted her gaze up to the Tribute she'd have to fight with. His hand, extended. She took it, slowly, her hands shaking from the sudden news. Her eyes watered. The male Tribute was far too stocky, she'd never have any chance in the world of being able to win a fight against him.

He's right.

I really am a tiny mouse.

That will be squashed in the Hunger Games.

My blood splattered all over the floor in the Arena.

A tiny mouse.

Me.

A tear ran down her olive skin. Useless tears, she called them. They served no purpose but to show weakness. Minya couldn't show weakness at a time like this. In front of the Capitol. She had to be strong.

"Minya! Min-ya!"

A figure ran to the front of the crowd, eyes wide with terror.

"Min..ya!"

The voice sounded far away, muffled.

"You can't go!"

It was shrill, and sounded like it came from a small child.

Minya couldn't speak, her throat was as dry as sandpaper.

"...please!"

Yelena Lux was terrified of the arena. But she did what it took to save her sister. Alora was the shining light of the Lux family, and Yelena privately knew that Alora would one day bring change. She had a chance to win, but she and mama both recognized that Yelena was in no condition to take on 23 other tributes. But she would still fight, fight to return to her sister. Fight to return to the twins, who had been born no more then a week ago. Mama had allowed Yelena and Alora to name the girl, and Oran and Haylen name the boy. Yelena and Alora had spent a lot of time thinking of a name, and had settled on "Alya." It kept with tradition, in naming after light. Haylen was the oldest, Oran the second oldest, Yelena the third, Alora the fourth, and now the twins, named Alya and Apollo, were the youngest. Yelena smiled when she thought of Alora. Her fellow middle child. Her favorite sister, but you couldn't tell Haylen and Alya that. Yelena felt a tear slide down her face. She would never see Alora again.

---

Alora sat in her train car, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. Yelena had sat in this very train car 5 years ago. She would never return. Alora refused to accept that she might never return either. Alora would avenge her sister no matter the cost. "You should start by meeting the other tributes." she murmured to herself. That could wait, she would finish her meditation first. The meditation was more important then anything. Alora thought about her strengths and weaknesses for a moment. She almost undoubtedly had the most stamina of any tribute coming to the games. She wasn't particularly big, which meant that brute force wasn't an option. However, she had skill on another level when it came to hand-to-hand. She sparred everyday, everyday since she was 12 with no exception.

Alora owed it to Yelena to fight. She had to come back from these games. It would shatter her family if she died. If not for herself and for Yelena, she had to win for her family. Alora would do anything to keep her family safe. She bit her lip. She would have to kill 23 people to make it out. Including her district partner. She would have to survive on very little food and water, and survive the elements. Not to hard. Probably. Alora sighed. The presentation ceremony would be her chance to win some initial sponsors. Hopefully she could pull it off.

The train moved faster then Alora's eyes could follow. It almost gave her motion sickness, watching as cities and plains flew by her. The train would most likely be at the capitol soon, which meant Alora only had a few more moments of quiet and peace left. A few more moments of Serenity before all hell broke loose.

"Alright capitol. Get ready to meet Alora Lux."

Agria was numb. It was just like the very first time that Auntie had hit her. Just the same...

The silent little girl with a tangled head of dark red hair struggled against the grip of the old man, sobbing voiceless tears. Despite having long grey hair and wrinkles that creased the skin around his eyes like crumpled paper, he was just as strong as ever. "Quit your crying," he snapped, and the angry look on his face caused the little girl to stop, sniffling and hiccuping now. The man took her to an impressive brick building, knocking on the door. A much younger Auntie answered with a huff. "What do you want, Slyvester." "Found another orphan for your litter," he sneered. The old man threw Agria foward, so the three year old fell on her hands and knees in front of Auntie, who barked, "Stand up." She did, shakily. "What is your name?" She shook her head, gesturing to her mouth in hopes to explain that she couldn't answer. Auntie hit her across the face, causing Agria to stumble back, blood coming from her nose, skin stinging from the hit. She could not remember her parents, only soft hands and warm voices, but this was not something they did. "Brat can't speak," Slyvester sneered. "But I found her hanging around her parent's old place, and remembered her. This one here's Agria, the Donnelman's snot-faced scrub." Auntie crossed her arms and looked down at Agria. "Fine. Pay up." And Slyvester handed her a bag of coins, then, with an iron grip, Agria was dragged into the brick house. She didn't cry or struggle. She was absolutley numb.

Agria followed the Peackeepers without struggle, not daring to look back. She knew that they could be just as violent as Auntie. So she did not struggle, only walked with them, head down and hands clasped together. They waited for someone to visit her. No one did. Agria expected this. Minutes of what was probablly the last moments she'd be alive in District 2 ticked by, until..A man came to see her. Agria looked up at him, surprised. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "This isn't right. No child should be here. But I can only give you this." He took something from his pocket and pressed it into her hand, then fled quickly and quietly, not even giving the girl his name. She opened her hand to see a simple leather necklace, with a glass version of a white lilly. The plant that she loved. How did this man know? But before she could do anything, she was being led away to the train.

On the train, Agria didn't hesitate to find the smallest corner she could, curling up into a ball. It brought back memories of when she was little, hiding from Auntie in hopes of avoiding punishment, but to no avail. This time, the punishment was death, for a crime commited long before the thought of Agria was conceived. She clutched the necklace in one hand, slowly running the other over the bright red marks on her face.

---

Jason had welled a tear in his eye as he was dragged by the peacekeepers onto the train, though yes, he wiped it before he was on it. He couldn't show weakness to anyone, much less his district partner. District 1 was the last stop the train took before setting out for the Capitol, therefore he was to be the last tribute to set his foot on this damned train this year. He went straight to the compartment allotted to district 1, where Alora already sat. He sat by her as she meditated, not betraying a sound of disturbance. He did not know Alora, but he had definitely seen her somewhere, probably at school. He sat in silence, as she did, relaying the conversations with his mumma and papa in his head. And about Emily. His ill-mannered yet loving sister. He could not bear to never see them again, however they were. Especially his mum, after seeing how sensitive she was towards him that day. Jason did not speak a word even after she was done meditating and saw him there and only spoke when the staff came and set their table with food. And however good the food back at his house was, this tempted Jason too. Obviously, the Capitol would not provide even the luxuries of districts with stuff as good as theirs. "I'm Jason" he gently introduced himself, as he took a serving of pasta.

---

Minya Reedshaw.
I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order. —John Burroughs

The tears had long since dried up. Minya felt hollow, and empty. She couldn't comprehend the recent events of terror.

"Minya! Min...ya!"

Minya silently shuffled into the train, sat down, and buried her face in her hands, shaking. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the vivid colours of the Capitol carriage.

The sickly scent of the Capitol food made her retch. She hated this.

The District 7 Female Tribute is....

Minya Reedshaw!

Minya winced as the memory haunted her. The small girl left out a loud sob. It was horrible, terrifying. The thought of inevitable death in the Arena. She couldn't stand a chance.

The District 7 carriage was empty, the male tribute of 7 was nowhere to be seen.

Probably saying his goodbyes.

She assumed. Minya had already said goodbye to her siblings, trying not to cry as she hugged them all individually, wiping away their tears.

Minya! You can't go!

Shrieked a shrill voice.

Minya!

Echoed a slightly lower voice.

Her many brothers and sisters.

Minya started to sob.

"Like hell you are..." Aether grubled before practically stomping to the train, the boy following close behind. She could faintly hear him apologizing for so many unrelated things, as well as some pleads that she would just calm down. She knew he was hurting too, but that didn't mean they had to get soft and cry about it together. She had only done that for a brief second, and it allowed her to get her thoughts organized. She did feel slightly sorry for him, though, after what his mother had said. He must've felt that his mother had no hope for him in the arena, and she went as far as to ask an insane killer to make sure his death wasn't terrible. How pathetic was that? He probably had no hope in himself either, considering how weak he was. Besides, his family was one of he main feeders in the district, and they never laid an ill meaning hand on any animal. How was he expected to kill in the arena if he can't even kill an animal? She walked faster as the boy caught up to her before finally arriving on the train, where she found the further spot away from everything and sat down. She glared at the male tribute, the district trainer, and the speaker from earlier as she hugged her knees and let her eyes peek out over them.

"She's the girl who killed her parents..."
That's what the trainer spoke of as soon as they saw her, talking among the three quietly like she wouldn't hear. All of them, including the boy, all took turns glancing back at her and muttering awful things about her, not having a care in the world. They didn't even bother to invite her over, why would they? She would just ruin the only conversation that was going on. Aether begun to grow tired of the three and buried her head in her legs, closing her eyes tightly as scenes started to run through her mind.

---

Yelena listened as her fellow tributes discussed strategies. She was a career, which entitled her to a pack of allies. Allies she didn't particularly want or need. Yelena crossed her legs and closed her eyes. She allowed herself to keep listening to the careers talk but did not say anything. She would keep the impression that she was above the games. Above the murder and above the people. That was the attitude of district 1. That was the attitude Yelena would keep.

---

Alora did not respond to Jason for a solid two minutes. "I know exactly who you are." she said finally. "My mother knew your great-grandfather." she added, opening one of her golden eyes to examine Jason, who was enjoying some pasta. He was a career, as she was. But was he above it all, like she was? Or was he happy to be here, and happy to be in the games? Was he happy to have a chance to murder and torture and kill and be a puppet, like so many victors from district 1 were? Alora refused to ask the questions that burned in her head. She would act above it all. She would act like this was a mere distraction, and a waste of time. She would follow in her mother's footsteps. She would shine her own path.
"Yelena would be proud."

---

Adrienne felt the walls close in on her. With no family to say goodbye too, she had boarded the train promptly and without struggle. The peacekeepers had given her sympathetic looks. They knew she didn't deserve to die. Adrienne caught someone staring at her and stared back. Surprise flickered across her face when the person turned away, their face red. Most of the time they just disappeared when they caught her looking at them. "Sort out what's real and what's not Adri, get yourself together!" she whispered. A sharp stabbing pain in her temple caused her to wince. Adrienne closed her eyes, attempting to ward off the headache. But it didn't go away. Adrienne opened her eyes again. Her face felt damp, she rubbed under her eyes. Tears. Crying. Screaming. Pain. The headache attacked her with surprising ferocity.
"They odds are low. But never zero."

District 9 Reaping

The girl's face barely betrayed a twitch. And yet, terror was clearly evident in her eyes- in the faint glisten at the corners- at the way they widened slightly as they met a pair of blue eyes in the crowd. Her throat visibly bobbed as she swallowed, but she managed a refined smile. She turned to Raiyhan and offered her hand.

Traditional.

All Tributes had to do it. Share the honour of representing their tributes in a game of gore and death.

She looked directly at him, light blue eyes piercing through him. Her hand remained outstretched.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, too quietly for anyone but the two of them to hear. "That you will have to die."

---

District 7 POST-REAPING

The crowd billowed around Riggs, puffing up like a hot air balloon, all avoiding the flaming boy in the center. He felt a grin edge up the corners of his lips. Already they could feel he was different. Not someone to be mourned- someone to be feared. The person who truly didn't belong.

He spotted the girl from earlier- she was already heading up to the train. Quick one, ain't she? He started towards the train himself. People noticed and parted, providing him a clear path to his destination.

No one touched him.

He chuckled under his breath. Really? Did they think being a tribute was contagious? That he'd infect their children? How ridiculous. The pigs of 7 were truly stupid.

Then a hand caught the back of his shirt and he went rigid.

Riggs whipped around, tearing the fabric loose, ready to rip a good one on the foul creature who'd dared- dared-

His anger faded away, replaced by confusion.

A little boy, barely four years old. His hair was brown, atypical. Skin a tanned that the poorest of the poor all possessed. Brown eyes welling with tears. And yet, as he traced the features of the face, and the freckles-

The freckles.

Oh.

Was this boy related to Primrose?

"She called for you. I heard her." His voice was choked with tears. "W-Why wouldn't you help her? She- big sis- she needed you!" More tears sprang up.

Riggs had a vague memory of Primrose mentioning her family at some point- she was quite attached, for some strange reason. He hadn't cared too much, so she'd gotten all huffy and left early. One of their only fights.

The pig was grabbing at his shirt again. Riggs unpeeled the grubby paws from the formerly clean fabric, and smoothed it out as he stepped away from the runt.

"And that's my problem... why?"

Those brown eyes went wide.

"You- you were her friend- she- she always said you-" Riggs didn't have time for this. The Peacekeepers were crowding in already.

"Go." Was his cold response as he turned away.

He didn't see if the boy listened- or if he continued begging, pleading, screaming- all noises were lost in the furious roaring in his ears. Served the swine right if he got shot for it. He was just as pathetic as everyone else in this District- Riggs had pretended, but Primrose was one of them too. The worst one. And that pile of bacon was just about to follow.

He took steps forward, each one dragged down by the weight of a mountain. But he continued, across the paths, through the sallow-skinned, dirty people. He slammed his feet down on steps, heading through the Peacekeeper's office. Headed down, gravity seizing him at every moment.

Then he took the last three stairs up to the train.

He could smell a blood far more metallic then the silver of the train.

The door shut behind him. The train started to rumble.

Someone was sitting in an aisle, atop plush seats that she- a pitiful District- did not deserve to touch. He took the final step forward and addressed her.

"Hello, Mouse."

---

Minya Reedshaw.
Colors are the smiles of nature. —Leigh Hunt

"Hello, Mouse."

The gruff words from another Tribute, from a fellow member of District 9 roused Minya from her sadness. She lifted her small head, her curls falling limply at the side of her head, and her eyes stared directly upwards, dull in colour. Her cheeks were red and puffy from crying, and more tears began to fill her eyes. Minya wiped them away quickly, not wanting to show weakness in front of the unfamiliar male.

"Hello, rat."

She retorted weakly. Her breaths came quickly and heavily, on the brink of another round of pitiful sobbing. It was useless now, to cry. It just brought on more sadness. Right now, she should be focused on ways to win the games, maybe finding out more about the tributes she would have to fight against.

"Come to insult me more about my size, have you?"

Minya asked dully. She didn't care anymore, his insults were useless. They were of no value, and wouldn't do anymore harm. The damage was already done. Minya rubbed a small, fragile hand across her cheeks briefly, before letting it drop limply back down, against the side of her plain shorts.

"Call me mouse, small-

Talk about how you're going to squish me, aren't you?

How I'm going to be crushed in the games?"

Minya glared at him, but the sorrow behind her eyes was clear. The anger she tried to show was slowly melting away, replaced by the sadness that threatened to shatter her. The inevitability of all this.

She was going to die.

There was no other way to put this.

She, the mouse, was going to be crushed, by the better Tributes.

Minya, was going to die.

---

Raiyhan Vale.

Who's...surprisingly fine with being carted off to certain death, unlike the others. A little strange, but who am I to judge?

Raiyhan stared into the stranger's eyes.

"We were all going to die sooner or later. Death just came early, this time."

Was all he said.

He took the girl's hand in his, his face betraying no more emotions.