THE REAPINGS
FEY/DISTRICT 1/17
The look on her face is almost laughable.
Oh, how she would've loved the spotlight. But who am I to let her have it? Anyway, no one would sponsor a girl named Twinkle. Even by our standards, that's pretty ridiculous. I can feel the eyes of my parents, even those of Fright, my trainer, boring into my back. I know I was supposed to train for one more year, but I am not about to let that twit get into the Games. And now she never will, because she is 18, and I took her place.
I stride confidently onto the platform, my smile genuine. I wave to the crowd, blowing a kiss to Twinkle, who fumes and would probably storm off if she could. The escort, who is especially funny looking this year, shakes my hand. She is dressed in all yellow, the hem of her skirt studded with gaudy gemstones.
"Boys next!" She trills, and reaches into the massive bowl. I scan the crowd, wondering who will volunteer this year, completely ignoring the woman onstage with me because the name she reads will be irrelevant. Finally, the name - which I ignore - is called, and a voice calls out to volunteer. A tall, well-muscled boy steps forward, attractive face made even more so by his charming smile.
"What's your name?" The escort asks.
"Tron. Tron Blackery," he replies, grinning at the cameras.
"What a nice name," the lady croons, and I do hope she gets transferred to another District because I don't want to have to put up with that voice after I win.
"May I announce," she begins, leaving an unnecessarily long dramatic pause, "this year's District 1 Tributes: Fey Goodsmith and Tron Blackery!"
MABLE/DISTRICT 8/15
"She doesn't look that bad," Talon comments, casting a sidelong glance at me.
"Your face looks that bad," I spit back. His hazel eyes narrow as he frowns.
"Look," he says, "I'm just trying to make conversation." We're watching the recaps. The District 2 female, a girl named Indira, is onscreen. Her long, silky black hair is perfectly curled, her green eyes brought out by carefully applied makeup.
The boy takes the stage next, and, in stark contrast to the other Careers we've seen so far, doesn't even look at the crowd. He stands with his arms crossed, looking strong, dangerous. I lean forward to catch his name. Akylas. It's strange, but I've heard stranger.
The District 3 Tributes, Beck and Orion, both look 13 or 14. They won't pose much of a threat, I'm sure. Then again, neither will I. Both Tributes from 4 are volunteers, as per the norm. The boy from 5 is only 12, and I feel a surge of pity for him.
I look away from the screen as my own name is called. Talon, however, doesn't. "You looked nice," he says.
"Gee, thanks," I reply. "I made sure to look nice for my death sentence."
"Would you two at least try to be civil?" Our escort, a blue-haired woman named Sofi, asks.
"Why bother?" I retort, standing up and turning to face her. "Only one person can win. What point is there in making 'friends' that you'll just end up stabbing in the back eventually?"
"Or being stabbed by, what with your charming personality," Thorn mutters, his shaggy brown hair obscuring most of his face.
"You take that back!" I yell, whipping around and grabbing a fork from the table. Sofi shrieks, and a strong hand grabs my wrist. Fray, Talon's mentor, stands beside me, long fingers wrapped around my arm.
"Save it for the arena, kid," he says, a ghost of a smirk on his face. He lets go, and I relinquish my weapon. Talon and I sit on the couch, swaying with the movement of the train, our stony silence unbroken until a phrase from the television catches my attention.
"What's this? We have a volunteer!"
CORVID/DISTRICT 12/16
She still isn't talking to me.
"The least you could do is thank me."
"For what? Putting yourself in jeopardy - you, the only reason for me to win, to come home - I'm supposed to thank you for that?"
"Yes."
Thistle just sits there, angrier than I've ever seen her. That's okay. I didn't come here to be her friend. I came to protect her.
"This is exactly how it all started, you know."
"Her volunteering had nothing to do with the failed rebellion."
"It had everything to with it!"
"Besides," I continue, "she volunteered to take her sister's place. I volunteered to come with you. To help you win."
"Yeah, right. More like we'll both be Bloodbath material," Thistle snaps back.
"You don't know that," I counter calmly.
"Yes, I do know that, Corvid," she sighs. Her expression softens. "What do you think the twist will be this year?"
"Dunno," I reply, shrugging. "Something nasty, I'll bet. It is the first Quell after the rebellion, after all, and we all know that those cards aren't drawn randomly."
"It's odd, them not reading it aloud," Thistle comments. I nod. Odd is an understatement. Not even the Capitolites know what the Quarter Quell rule change will be this year.
Only time will tell, I guess. Only time.
Edit:
SPONSORSHIP:
What? I failed to mention that you'd be able to sponsor a Tribute? That's probably because I just decided you could now. Surprise!
Im not sure if this really qualifies as an SYOT since I've got the Tributes pre-created. They will be posted on a Wordpress site ( ...).
Also, instead of a point system, depending on the value of the sponsorship gift, you'll have to wait a certain amount of days before sending another.
GIFTS:
Food and Water:
- A canteen of water (1 day)
- A gallon of water (2 days)
- A half dozen iodine tablets (1 day)
- A roll (1 day)
-A loaf of bread (2 days)
- Broth (1 day)
- Full meal (3 days)
- Small group meal (feeds two, 4 days)
- Large group meal (feeds four, 5 days)
Weapons:
- Knife (3 days)
- Spear (4 days)
- Sword (5 days)
- Trident (5 days)
- Bow and 6 Arrows (5 days)
- 6 Arrows (3 days)
- Other (PM me)
Other:
- Burn ointment (2 days)
- Medicine (3 days)
- Sleeping bag (5 days)
- Jacket (3 days)
- Socks (2 days)
- Night vision goggles (6 days)
Other ideas for sponsorship gifts? PM me! I'm sure I've missed some. Also, if you'd like to send a gift, PM me for that as well. You can sponsor as many Tributes as you'd like, and multiple people can sponsor a single Tribute, but you may only send one gift at a time.
