~WARNING~
This story will contain swearing, intense gore, and sexual occurrences. Only submit if you are tolerant and okay with this type of content.
Bloodline : /ˈblʌdlʌɪn/
(blood-line)
a set of ancestors or line of descent of an important person.
"the survival of a legitimate royal bloodline"
Celestia Snow
~17~
Capitol
"So, what do you think?" He asks tenderly, eyes soft and frail, compared to how they usually are, cold and malicious. It's not a very common thing to see President Snow in this way, he always needs to be powerful, scary, all the things a leader of Panem ought to be.
It was a very common sight to see him this way for me however, as I'm one of the few that can bring such an expression upon him. After all, I am his granddaughter. Despite this, I give him an expression to suggest I'm revolted, which I quite honestly am.
"Grandfather, you know I hate it when District 2 comes out victorious. It's so generic now, and this is no exception. All he is. . . is some arrogant asshole," I mutter spitefully. I hear the slight hum of a laugh that Grandfather gives, suggesting he knew the answer before I even said it.
"But you must like District 2, they provide action, death, they are part of the reason why The Hunger Games thrive!" he gushes in his calculating but croaky voice. I sigh, leaning back against the plush chair.
"You know I don't like the Hunger Games," I say bitterly, shaking my head. He examines me, a glint in his eye as he smiles.
"Aw, are you still upset about the 74th Hunger Games? Oh, is that why you hate District 2?" He wonders. I take a moment before answering, eventually giving in to his question.
"Maybe," I mutter. In all honesty, it is the truth, he was correct. Katniss Everdeen, she was an inspiration, to all girls out there. She was powerful, a warrior, I looked up to her as my eleven-year-old self. I was rooting for her and her lover until the very end, but Cato strangled Peeta to death, and threw his dead body into Katniss, knocking her off the Cornucopia and down to the mutts.
Ever since that moment, I have resented District 2.
"I hope you understand Celestia, why we need to have the Hunger Games," Grandfather says with a sigh. I roll my eyes, shaking my head slightly out of pure disgust.
"To keep the District's in line, yeah I get it," I groan. President Snow, I know who he is. I know that he is an evil and cruel man. I've known that for years. But as much as I try to sometimes, I am incapable of actually hating him. I love him, he is my bloodline, and there is nothing I can do to change that. He grins at me, nodding his head despite the heavy sarcasm that was hidden in my words.
"Now, you didn't answer me before, what do you think?" Once again, he raises the image up so I can see it. It depicts a young man, strong, muscular, brutish, with tanned skin and a shaved head. He has a triumphant smirk on his head, and holds a heavy looking war hammer. I'm revolted by him.
"I hate it," I inform him, turning away. This causes him to chuckle.
"Which means the Capitol will love it! Ryus Griftyte, Victor of the 79th Annual Hunger Games!" He calls out, his voice echoing throughout the room.
"Sounds horrible," I sigh.
"I think it has a nice ring to it," he comments, scratching his snowy white beard.
"Now, I must get this design sent to his stylist immediately," he exclaims, standing up quickly. He makes it a couple of steps, until he stops suddenly. I don't take much notice of it to begin with, but as time quickly passes, I notice the sound of his heavy breathing. It becomes more ragged, as he leans against the table. I finally look up as he begins to cough. My forehead instantly becomes creased with concern.
"Grandfather? Are you okay?" I ask hesitantly. It takes a moment for him to reply, but he manages to through the gasps and wheezes.
"Yeah. . . I'm quite fi-. . . I. . ." Is all he manages to get out, before he collapses onto one knee. Now I'm alert.
"Help! The President is hurt!" I cry out in disarray. It takes about a second for people to burst through the door. They stop dead in the tracks, spotting my Grandfather now writhing on his back, on the floor. I don't know how to react; I don't understand what is happening to him. All of this, has been so sudden.
As people surround him, my sight of him is blocked, and I cannot make out what they are doing anymore. I barely notice someone grabbing my waist, whisking me away so I am out of sight. Tears are streaming down my face, and I have begun to sob with despair.
"Get away from me! Take me to my Grandfather!" I screech, trying to escape the strong grip of the guards.
"Your Grandfather is receiving the best care possible, he is going to be okay," I hear one of them say. It sounds so far away, it's as if all my senses have completely drifted to another reality. My fight becomes weaker, and soon enough I'm a blubbering mess, held up only by the arms of the guards.
The next twelve hours or so are nothing far off agonizing. It's full of fear, waiting, and absolute mystery. What happened? What if he doesn't make it? What is going to occur if that possibility becomes a reality? I spend the time staring blankly at the wall of my bedroom, feeling the tears drip down my face. The silence makes my ears ring, as I run through every possibility in my mind, of what could happen. Did I just watch my Grandfather die? The thought, is too real, and undeniably terrifying.
My mind pictures his gasping face, as the color completely drained from it. I can clearly see the writhing figure of him on the floor, and the sweat that coated his face. Suddenly, I'm rushing into my bathroom, releasing all the built up sickness from my stomach. The acidic bile scorches my mouth, and the taste is horrid, yet I lean over the toilet bowl, staring wearily at the contents I had just spewed up.
I groan as I pick myself up, struggling to stand with my shaking knees. I manage to drag myself over to the sink, where I stare at myself in the flawless mirror. I wish I could look that flawless at the moment, but unfortunately, I look nothing of the sort. My cheeks are red, while my skin is pale. My eyes have rings around the, from fatigue and tears, my light blonde hair is a complete mess, and I just look plain sickly.
Grandfather says, I look just like my mother did. It brings more tears to my eyes, the thought of my parents. I never met either of them, I was only an infant. But I've lived all of these years, and never known what it feels like to feel the true tender hug of a mother, or the protective and humbled love of a father. I could argue that it's made me stronger, and more independent as a woman, but it's not nice knowing that you could have had something, only for it to be snatched away from you.
I was told that they were both murdered, poisoned in fact. I don't know the details, but I know whoever did it never got caught. My Grandfather was livid, and heartbroken. All he had was me, so I was raised a Snow. Now. . . All I've got is him, and the possibility of losing that, is the most terrifying thing I've ever had to experience.
"Celestia?" a voice calls from behind the closed door. I look up at myself again, sniffling away my sorrow. It is an effort to turn myself around, but I eventually do it.
"Yes?" I croak out. Agh, my throat feels like sandpaper. It sounds like my voice box has been ripped to shreds.
"I-I've been instructed to tell you that you're able to visit your Grandfather," the voice informs me, sounding quite shaky. I take some shaky steps towards the door, before opening it slowly. I face a random woman, who stands with her back straight.
"Is he alive?" I ask quietly. I watch her carefully, as she swallows.
"I'm not quite sure, I believe you should come see for yourself," she responds. I close my eyes, before sighing heavily.
"O-okay," I choke out.
Author's Note:
Hey there! My name is One True Victor, but you can call me OTV or Victor for short. Welcome to my first SYOT! I'm certain most people reading this are familiar with SYOT's by now, but I will still lay out my ground rules. What did you think of the first prologue chapter? What did you think of Celestia? I would love to know!
So, this is the first prologue, there will be another one up quite soon, and that will lead us up to the Tribute List! Now just because this is the first story on this account, don't let that discourage you from submitting! I have read countless SYOT's and even wrote one on another account! But I'm starting on a fresh slate, so here I am!
The Submission Form will be on my profile, as well as a constantly updated tribute list. I'll move onto the rules, and hopefully we can get this show on the road!
Compulsory Rules:
If you find these strict, don't let it deter you from submitting! For the majority, you can see where I am coming from.
1. Submissions must be sent in through PM. I will under no circumstances accept a submission sent through review.
2. You are not to submit a tribute from an existing SYOT. I want the tribute to be unique to the story, and its blatantly unfair to both myself and the author that accepted that tribute into theirs. So no recycling tributes UNLESS - the story never begun, or the tribute wasn't accepted. It doesn't take that long to create a tribute. If a tribute is caught being recycled, or I discover you submitted them to another story after mine, I will kill them off in the bloodbath. I am sorry, but even if they are my favorite tribute, they will be killed off.
3. No reservations! This is not first come first serve, I am up for quality tributes. If I start getting enough submissions I will give a deadline.
4. There is no limit to how many submissions you can send in! Feel free to submit as many as you want! However, depending on how many submissions I get, spots are limited. If submissions are low, I'll allow two per author. If not, only one per author. This is so everybody has a chance to have a tribute!
5. No Mary Sue's or Gary Stu's. If they are so cliché that they are basically unkillable, they won't even be considered.
I believe those are all the main rules, but I may add to it on my profile if any more occur to me. Now I will be adding what I call recommended guidelines. These are what you should follow if you want a tribute to be accepted, and if you want to make it far.
Recommended Guidelines:
1. Review! This is recommended as it is the most important to me. Reviews are great for feedback and constructive criticism, and it helps me decide where the story may go. Your say always tends to have an impact on the story, and it is what motivates me the most to write. If you get your tribute in and just ghost read, never showing that you're actually reading, don't expect the tribute to make it very far, because what is the point of them doing so when other people that are reading and showing support and feedback want theirs to make it far as well? The more you review, the more likely you are to make it far, but if you never review, I'll just assume you never read the story.
2. Make the tribute interesting and unique! Don't be afraid that just because they are a prostitute, or homosexual, or a devil worshipper, that they won't be accepted. I'm up for doing absolutely anything, and the more unique the better. But also, I do like the sane, normal, nice, loving tributes as well. So don't think if they are a little boring or they don't have that weird factor, that they won't make it either.
3. On my profile, I will have the basic appearance and common features for that District, as well as common name types from that District. I really would like you to make the appearance based on the District, and give them a good name. I'm not going to like a boring ordinary name like Ryan, or Charlotte, or Jack, John, Joanne, just don't give me a name like that. Give me a name that reflect the District style, and if you don't want to do that, make the name unique, like Xena, or Rem.
. . . I do love the names Zoey and Holly though, if you have that as the name for your tribute, you're already headed in the right direction.
That's it! Hope to get some fantastic submissions!