Cashmere Guin, 15

Victor of the 64th Hunger Games

Her brother reached out a hand, feeling the soft fabric run through his fingers. He pulled away, observing the dress his little sister wore with a frown. He was a muscular young man, aged only sixteen, yet his trademark smirk was gone and his mischievous green eyes were now filled with fear.

"They don't give luxury away for free, sister," he finally spoke.

Cashmere looked down at the dress, running her hands along her waist where the silver material hung tightly. The siblings grew up around luxury yet never experienced it to the extent the Capitol did. Their days spent fighting around a fabric shop while their parents tore their skin with needles and machines. They more than anyone understood the price of Luxury and for a dress made from material so fine, so rare that even her seamstress mother never laid hands on it, the price would be far greater than money.

"The President assures me it is just a meal," she spoke softly, trying to convince herself of the truth her brother, Gloss wished to bring to her attention.

"Then I'm sure our President wouldn't mind me tagging along…as your escort," Gloss grunted. The sharp lines of his face and strong build aged him by a few years most of all in the low light of her bedroom. As a child, people said they looked so alike, they were mistaken on multiple occasions. They were too alike. The more they strived to distinguish themselves, the worse they made it.

Once Gloss took up throwing knives within the class, finishing top of his year. The next year, Cashmere also took up throwing knives until she had beaten her brother. When they were both skilled with the weapon, they gave up and moved on to the next competition. For as long as she could remember, they competed to be better than the other. Friends, weapons, fitness, even the Games. Yet, when pushed came to shove, they were siblings before opponents and this was one of the rare moments when Gloss felt the need to protect his sister.

"I don't need your help," Cashmere spoke softly. "I can take care of myself-"

"This isn't the Games, Cash," her brother hissed. "Lodging an axe in someone's skull isn't a victory in the real world."

"Then what good would your presence do?" She asked, a lump in her throat. "You can't throw a spear at them, you can't argue your case. If they want me alone, they will ask you to leave and there is nothing you can do about it. You utter a word, you rebel in any way and everyone we love is dead...isn't that the warning you gave me when you won?"

Gloss sighed, running his hands through his golden hair before awkwardly crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you want me to do then?" He asked, his eyes defeated. "I know what it means when they arrange a meeting with a victor and someone with power...I've experienced it first hand...I can't sit here and let them do that to my own sister-"

"We don't have a choice," Cashmere interjected, not able to look her brother in the eyes. "It's a small price to pay for our safety...for the safety of our family." Gloss didn't reply, giving a quick nod before vanishing from her bedroom, leaving the door swinging behind him.

When she was sure he was gone, she turned to the window and wistfully looked out over the Capitol. A view reserved for the Victors and Tributes of District Twelve. She killed both of their Tributes this year. The small girl with an axe to the chest and the tall, lanky boy with decapitation. At the time she felt nothing but pride as she cleaned off her blade but now, she felt almost cold at the thought. A month ago, the Twelve girl lay in the same bed she did at night. Maybe she even looked out over the same view of the silhouetted buildings against the setting sun or the pond that circled Tributes walk, the water dancing in the gaze of street lights. Maybe she thought about home, whatever that looked like.

As a child, Cashmere had always imagined them living within a mining tunnel, canaries as pets and coal dust lodged deep into their skin. That was until her brother visited upon his victory tour. He came home and told her about all of the Districts but Twelve stuck out to her the most. It wasn't industrialized like Three and they didn't live underground. Instead, they lived in shacks on the verge of collapse or packed into one bedroom flats in tall, red brick buildings with small shops underneath. Children walked the streets, their skin clinging to the bone while the cemetery overflowed with the dead, crushed by caved in mine shafts or starvation. More children had passed on through thirst, illness or hunger than had been killed by the Games. Cashmere thought of these images when moments of regret found their place within her mind. She convinced herself it was for the best those children died than live the rest of their days back in misery.

She caught herself in her reflection, her tears glistening as they rolled down her face and her body trembling ever so slightly with fear. She was a girl who topped the class from her year, the first choice to volunteer for the Hunger Games, the girl with the most kills from her year, beating her brother. She was a warrior but nothing frightened her more than a lack of control in her own body. For tonight, it wouldn't be hers, it would be whoever paid the highest price for her. Her body would ache, her body full of fear and fight but all she would be able to do was smile and pretend she was happy. When her brother told her that Victory was not worth the price, she had assumed he was trying to retain his glory. Only now did she understand he was trying to protect her. He always did that but she never listened, always assuring herself he wished for her downfall. One peice of advise he always spoke but until now was met with a cold reception was to smile. Smile until her face ached and until the people around her were convinced it was real. Swords, shields and survival skills can only get you so far. Sometime a smile could be the difference between life or death.

She straightened her back, puffed out her chest and smiled the toothiest grin she could muster against her tears.

This SYOT is more of a back to basics story. There aren't any bells or whistles just a normal Game, normal SYOT. It takes place during the 66th Hunger Games song long before Katniss' time but in a period where you will know a lot of the mentors. Although Finnick won the year before the Games within this story, I haven't seen many SYOT's that open with Cashmere's POV. I thought it would be interesting to have an insight into her mind, considering she is only about fifteen according to the Wiki.

Go nuts with your characters, I have seen it all by this point. Submit via PM, review submissions will be deleted. The form is on my profile along with the Tribute form. I hope you submit and I look forward to seeing what you come up with!