Author's Note: Cinna has always been my favorite character in the Hunger Games. So much of his story was left untold in the books, and I found myself wondering just what his backstory could be. What if the 74th Hunger Games hadn't been his first year as a stylist? Why did he ask for District 12? What made him so different than the rest of the Capitol citizens? And so this is my answer, two years prior to when Katniss's story begins, with the 72nd Hunger Games. (Told in two points of view, Cora's and Cinna's.)
And of course, I don't own any characters in the books, or the world that Suzanne Collins has built.

Cora

The sky was dark. It always seemed that bad weather came on the reaping day. At least, every year that I could remember. I shook my head, scolding myself. Weather was the least of my concerns right now. I needed to pay attention. Stay calm, I told myself. Breathe in, breathe out. Six pieces of paper. That wasn't very much. Six was less than seven. But it was more than five. More than four. I tried to pay attention to the weather instead.

The mayor's speech was ending, and Julietta Silver stepped up onto the stage as I smoothed out my green dress. Six times my name was entered. That was all.

"Welcome, welcome District Four!" She cheered, her long blond hair bobbing as she moved. Each year her hair seemed to alternate between shades of pastels. "What a lovely day for the reaping!" I couldn't help but cast another upward glance. Cloudy skies and fog. Not exactly my idea of lovely. "It is time to announce our tributes for the 72nd annual Hunger Games. Let's get down to business! And as always, may the odds ever be in your favor!"She strutted her way over to the glass jar and reached in gleefully, as though she were poking around for money, and raised a slip high in the air. She repeated the task with the jar's twin beside it, and hurried back to the podium.

"Our lovely lady is… Miss Cora Sweetgale!" Julietta declared. The air was knocked out of my chest. Six was too many after all. Inhaling deeply, I made her way up to the stage beside Julietta, my heart pounding. My name. Out of all them. I would be strong up on this stage. I would be brave. Julietta continued on. "And our dashing young man… Percy Waters!" The small twelve year old was ushered up beside me, and he grabbed quickly for my hand, his blue eyes searching my own with fear. I felt a stab of sympathy for him- when Percy was younger he had been bitten by a shark- luckily only a few toes were lost- and he had been timid and jumpy ever since. Percy wouldn't last in the arena, and he seemed to know it, standing there trembling in his blue suit. I tried to comfort him.

"It's okay Percy. Someone will volunteer for you." I whispered, struggling to reassure him. "Someone will help you." Sure enough, Julietta extended her pale pink hand to the crowd.

"Do we have any volunteers? Any young women interested in taking the place of Miss Sweetgale?" The girls in the crowd glanced at each other nervously. Though District Four had been known for Career tributes, the girls weren't so willing to go this year. I couldn't blame them. Last year's games were vicious- the only weapons had been awful spiked maces. Still, my heart sank with the weight of what that would mean."Any strapping boys?" Julietta continued. Even among the boys, a hush of discontent swept through them, but this time a tan hand shot up near the back of the group- they had a volunteer. A tall boy made his way up to the stage as Percy quickly ran back down. Julietta clapped her hands happily. "And you are?"

"Ronan Spare." He said confidently. I wasn't surprised. I'd known Ronan for a while- he was only fourteen yet incredibly strong- not to mention incredibly arrogant. He'd been dying for a chance to enter the games. He had a real chance of coming out a champion. Julietta Silver smiled and took my wrist in her right hand, and Ronan's in the other.

"District Four we have our tributes for the seventy-third annual Hunger Games! Let's have a round of applause for Cora Sweetgale and Ronan Spare!" She shouted in joy. I turned my gaze back to the clouds. The gray sky was not sympathetic. Six had always been far too many.

Cinna

"You're lucky Marcello let you work with me Cinna," Annette said curtly, as we sat together in front of the television. "If he didn't think you had so much potential, you'd be stuck with Eleven or Twelve." She flipped her pale-rose tinted hair over her shoulder. I knew I was lucky to be a stylist for District Four. I knew I was lucky to be working with such an experienced stylist. But I still couldn't shake the anxiety back of my mind. The Hunger Games were big. This was my chance to debut as a stylist. But that big debut began with the two of us sitting together in her apartment waiting to discover who our tributes would be. We had talked a little bit before hand, mostly at meetings, or if we happened to run into each other at a party or shop- but most of our previous interactions had been strictly short and to the point- without the awkward in between moments facing us now. I quickly learned that for all her skill, Annette was just as proud. Things are done her way, and in true Capitol fashion. Today, she made it clear she wasn't thrilled at the prospect of working with a first- time stylist.

I was thankful when the logo for District Four came on the screen, before changing to the reel of the reaping. We waited in silence as Julietta Silver ran through the motions and the mayor of the District gave his speech, while Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, and Magdalene Sharp stood beside the stage. I barely listened to them. I just wanted to see the tributes- the two children our work would revolve around for the next week. And soon enough, they were chosen. Mentally, I took note the strong points of each. The girl was short, and though she still looked healthy, she was pale compared to most members of District Four. Her long brown hair would be easy to work with, and her gray eyes were striking. The boy was so young, so timid- how could I prepare such a young child? No, I wouldn't have to, for the screen showed that there was a volunteer. An older boy approached the stage. He was tall, and muscular as well. His golden hair was short and spiky, and he reminded me slightly of the past victor, Finnick. They stood together side by side, as Julietta Silver clapped her hands and the audience cheered. I glanced over at Annette to gauge her reaction.

"I want the boy. He's got potential. Lots of it," she spoke eagerly as she watched the screen flash the names of the two tributes. "Ronan Spare," she read. "Yes. He's got guts, that one. You're fine with the girl?" she added, turning towards me.

"Of course," I replied politely. Annette was the senior between us. I knew how it worked. Looking back at the screen, I tried to capture the face of the girl in my mind. Cora Sweetgale. Though she still looked like a child, the television said she was already seventeen. One year away from escaping the Games. What could I do with her? Her hair was long, with sideswept bangs and pieces that stuck out slightly on the sides. But it was her eyes were what struck me. Next to Ronan, she didn't seem to have a chance- but those eyes. Her eyes looked far stronger than her body let on.