Welcome, everyone! Haha! I'm so giddy to finally get this ball rolling!
For those of you who submitted a tribute to the story, thanks so much! Your support is appreciated!
For those of you stumbling upon this, welcome. This is the actual story portion of my SYOT (All positions are filled by the way.) that stems from the prologue story "Who Would've Guessed". Reading that one is not really necessary, but it does hold a lot of important development on Kat and Slader, and there may be a few references to it throughout the story. However, I will try to explain as much as I can in this story so that anyone who doesn't go back and read the other can still keep up.
Oh yeah, also, Happy New Year! Yay!
Alright, last thing. This is just a head's up. I have all reagion this month so I have to practice... a lot. So updates will probably no be coming fast. Of course those that have been reading this for a while probably already expected that. I'm not promising anything faster than two weeks at a time, and once the reapings start, I'm hoping that can become a sort of normal updating pace since I'll already have some prepared. (I'm through five, and halfway through a sixth.)
Anyhoo, after this there will be one, possibly two development chapters, depending on how much I decide to do, and how behind I end up on reapings, so yeah, expect that.
Aside from that, have a good year, and enjoy!
I own nothing...except what I created.
~The Twist to the Twist~
One hundred years ago, the districts of Panem were cut down in their attempt at rebellion by the army of their Capitol, under the direction of a young man by the name of Cornelius Snow. This man fearing a new rebellion, devised a plan to keep these districts in line, by reminding them each year of the power of himself, and the people who were loyal to him. He created a game that required each of these district, 12 in total, to offer up tributes, one male and female between the ages of 12 and 18, to fight for their district in an annual Hunger Games. The last standing of these twenty-four would be honored forever by their district and the Capitol for their bravery, strength, and determination, and would forever be expected to keep peace between their own people, and the people their ancestors set out to destroy.
However, these games did not create respect, they created tension and contempt in the rebels' descendants, something that few of the Capitol citizens could see, or, in such cases like President Snow, had no intention of attempting to mend. But there had to be someone to both see and care about this rift, and, as fate would have it, this person would be the descendent of the president himself.
This is the story not only of the forty-eight children who were sacrificed either by their district or fate for the sake of a non-existent peace, but also of the girl who sacrificed her own life, and the life of her best friend, for the sake of mending what her family had broken.
This is the story of Katalina Snow...
The president's mansion was a place of the highest class, with its pristine white wall that swooped elegantly into high arches, or dipped slightly to form neat images. White marble floors, so clean that, if one wasn't precise with their manner of walking, there shoes would squeak anywhere they went. Servants made careful paths down these halls, carrying trays or sheets, or baskets of laundry.
One, holding high a tray supporting a small number of tall wine glasses, stopped abruptly from turning a corner, and leapt back, only barely avoiding being run over. The small girl who had nearly collided with the servant skidded to a stop, her socked feet not giving her enough traction for a proper stop. She managed to stop and make a course down the new hallway, calling an apology over her shoulder as she went.
Avoxes paused, and stepped out of the way as she raced past them, some smiling, and shaking their heads good-naturedly. Maybe she was a direct descendent of the very man who had taken them from their homes and cut out their tongues, but the young girl wasn't much different from the children in the Districts, and it was a nice reminder of home. Even if she did force them to be on their toes more often.
She raced down the halls, weaving expertly through the servants, and around the corners, careful not to try for too sharp of a turn again. As she finally reached her destination, a pair of tall, elegant double doors that swooped to the ceiling, and arched gracefully back down the floor, she slide to a halt, and took a moment to catch her breath. As she did, she made an attempt at smoothing down her bright, pink hair, and readjusting her jostled clothing. Sure, the president was family, but that didn't mean he expected any less professionalism.
Finally deeming herself safe for entry, the cat-eared girl, pushed on one of the thick wooden doors, and it swung silently into the garden beyond. Katalina Snow smiled to herself. The garden, despite all it really represented, was beautiful, with its neatly trimmed bushes that lined the walkways, and trees that reached majestic, leafy fingers to the sky, and were decorated with blossoming vines that curled up and around, and hung meticulously from the branches. And the most marvelous part, were the flowers that dotted the garden, spreading petals out like wings, and catching the sunlight in such a perfect manner that the entire place seemed as though it were glowing.
"You're not wearing any shoes."
Kat spun, and found her great-grandfather standing at the edge of the path, examining a bush of his roses carefully. Her immediate urge was to respond with an irritable, "Thanks President Obvious." but she managed to change it before his escaped. "I was in a hurry." Then, for good measure, she blushed sheepishly.
The man gave a thoughtful, "Ah." and continued with his work on the flower. Kat shifted from one foot to the other, waiting, but the man said nothing more.
"Is there a reason you called me here?" She tried to keep the impatience out of her voice, but it was still there. She could hear it, and she knew the aging man could.
"Of course there is," he replied calmly, glancing briefly away from his work. He made no further comments, and they stood in silence for what felt like hours, with him patiently clipping away flaws on his precious flowers, and her, standing in uncertain, yet impatient, silence in the middle of the neat, cobble-stone path. Then, just as she was about to open her mouth to prompt him into further detail, he continued, "The Quarter Quell reading is at noon."
Kat clamped her mouth shut, and allowed it to turn into a confused frown. "Yes, I know."
"You're not dressed," he went on, raising an eyebrow at a particularly tricky thorn.
Kat gave her head a shake. "Yes I am."
The man chuckled lightly, finally gaining control of his unruly thorn, then, stepping back to admire his work. As he ran the details of the plant over with an observant eye, he said, "Katalina, I don't believe we're on the same page. You're not dressed. Cinna has prepared a dress for you. He's in the design room on the first floor."
"A dress?" Kat crinkled her nose, causing the lightly colored whiskers underneath them to latch to one another and tangle together. "Grandpa, you know how I feel about dresses."
"This is the most historical event of your life, child. Even your mother's life, and possibly your grandmother's. Today, we celebrate the hundredth year of the Hunger Games. So yes, you will be wearing a dress." Then, when Kat's scowl didn't change, he added in his sand-papery voice, "The ceremony isn't even half an hour, you can survive it...and the after party."
"After party?" Kat raised an irritated eyebrow.
"What's a celebration without a little get together after wards, huh?"
"A tolerable one," Kat grumbled, but her grandfather ignored her. She was, after all, defeated, and they both knew it.
"Go on now, there's not much time left. And tell Lorell to do something about your hair," he dismissed, disappearing around a corner of the path.
Kat stamped her foot, and whirled, nearly loosing her balance. Stomping away jarred her feet painfully, so Kat settled for a roll of her eyes, and a groan as the thick wooden door boomed shut behind her. A passing avox stared at her as he passed, but said nothing, or rather, made no sign of what he might have said if he could still talk.
Shaking the thought away, Kat began her journey to the first floor, making her way through the hallway at a considerably slower rate then she had previously, and by the time she was pushing open the door to the room, Lorell was having a complete meltdown.
"What took you so long?" She demanded, ushering Kat further into the room, and shutting the door behind her. "You were scheduled to be here nearly an hour ago!"
"Didn't know," Kat replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Your mother told you, certainly."
"Which would explain why I didn't know," Kat mumbled, staring begrudgingly at her feet. Her grandfather must have guess she had ignored her mother's yammering and missed her appointment time, which would explain why she'd been called to his garden nearly half an hour after she should have been there, or, at least, if Lorell's time telling ability was anything to go by.
"You'll be cutting it awfully close. We may have to settle for something more simple for your hair." Lorell rambled on, bustling around the room with her face set in a concentrated scowl.
"Shame." Even the sarcasm went unnoticed the distracted woman, who paused by a short couch, which had been overtaken by an array of make-up products and hair irons, brushes, combs, and other accessories.
"Just braid it," someone recommended.
Kat's head snapped up, a grin already present on her face. The tall, dark man had appeared from behind the changing curtain, heavy and white, and was now standing with one side of the curtain pushed aside, smiling fondly. Lorell made a noise as though she had been hit, and said, "Oh that would be dreadfully boring!"
"But it's fast," Cinna pointed out, stepping away from the curtain, hands hidden behind his back. "Besides, her dress will be enough to draw everyone's eye." He grinned down at Kat. "Now, I have a surprise."
"Really? What is it?" Kat wondered, trying to peek around his back.
Cinna stepped back, chiding, "Well, it's not a surprise anymore if I tell you know is it?"
Kat pouted. "Well, I guess not, but it's not really a surprise if you announce it either."
"Touche." The man laughed. "Alright, close your eyes and hold out your hands."
Kat rolled her eyes, but obliged. Soon after she did so, she felt something smooth and rubbery being sat into her outstretched hand, and she gasped. "My shoes!" She would recognize the feel of those soles anywhere. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, they were their. The high-topped, shining things that were decorated pink, and lime green, and purple. "Oh! Thanks so much, Cinna!" She cried, attacking the man with a hug.
He chuckled. "Sure. Just, this time try to avoid mud puddles, yes?"
Kat laughed as she pulled away. The original pair of shoes he had made for her had been ruined on her trip to the Districts. She had been in the middle of a heated debate with her obnoxious companion, and had stopped, without realizing it, right in the middle of a large mud puddle that soaked them through and left them collapsing on themselves, and discolored. Cinna had been working on a new pair ever since her return, and in the mean time, she had been wearing a pair tennis shoes borrowed from her friend, Emery.
"And here's the best part," Cinna continued, moving back to the curtain. "Those will go perfectly with this!" And from the depths of the changing room beyond, he produced his dress, or rather, her dress.
She gasped, and Lorell made a sound of disapproval. It was a fuchsia, nylon, with a patch of purple that took up half of the skirt, and had been coated over with a smooth material that caught the light, and reflected it back out to catch the attention it demanded. Lorell sounded like she was having some sort of attack behind Kat. "You're not planning on sending her out for the Quell Reading in that!"
"And what's wrong with this?" Cinna's voice lacked significantly in the venom that the woman's comment warranted. "Do you not like it?" Kat turned to look at the woman, which seemed to only make her more uncomfortable.
"Well," She started hesitantly, looking everywhere but at the other two occupants of the room. "Well...It's dreadfully un-lady-like is all."
"Lorell, I'm dreadfully un-lady-like, so it's a perfect fit." Then, she grinned, and added, "Plus, I like it!"
So, ignoring all further arguments from the woman, she took the dress, and disappeared into the changing room. The room large, with plenty of space for storing piles of cloths, which it was intended for. Her mother and grandmother had been far more into shopping and cloths than she was. There were three long benches, stretching across three of the walls of the room, and pegs had been positioned above them for hangers. The final wall held only a tall mirror.
Kat turned away from this wall, and tugged off her sweat pants and tank top, folding them neatly and placing them on a bench. This way, the avoxes would know to return them to her room, instead of taking them to the wash. They were still clean, after all. Then, she proceeded to slip into the dress. The top was fitted tight around her flat chest, and the skirt flared out, as though she were spinning, slow and gentle, in it.
"I put the zipper on the side. I figure since you're going to refuse help anyways, I might as well make it easy on you."
Kat smiled, pulling the zipper into place and tucking it away neatly, calling, "Thanks, Cinna."
"Anytime."
She turned, and examined herself in the mirror. The dress fit well, and went well with her bubble gum hair, and ears. She ran a hand over her bare shoulder fascinatedly. She'd never worn a dress without any sleeves before. Her mother swore it could be done without a bust to keep the top up, but Cinna had designed a dress that did the job just fine on its own. "Is it on?"
Kat jumped, realizing that she had fallen into a day dreaming state. "Yeah!" She called, throwing back the curtain. "It's on."
Cinna smiled at the sight of her, or, maybe it was the sight of his work on an actual person, but the man was very good at making a person feel as though any smile he gave was meant for them, and Kat had decided a long time ago to just let herself think it was meant for her. It felt better that way.
"How do I look?"
"Like the Capitol's Sweetheart," Cinna replied fondly, ruffling her hair. "Now go let Lorell get to work before she has a heart attack or something."
Kat laughed, and obliged, allowing Lorell to tug the dried, pink strands into submission. She ended up going with a single, french braid that swoop from one side of Kat's head to the other, and sat in a rather dignified manner on her shoulder. It was obvious that she wasn't pleased with the simplicity of it, but it was all they had time for.
Cinna watched intently as she tugged on her new shoes, and offered a hand to help her to her feet once she was finished. When she was on her feet, he looked her over, and placed a hand over his mouth thoughtfully. "Is something wrong?"
From the couch Lorell made a sound of exasperation. "Oh, don't tell me you're finding something wrong now!"
Cinna waved a distracted hand at the woman, and said, "There's just something missing."
Kat looked herself over, and she could feel Lorell's eyes doing the same. "Cinna, there's nothing missing with that-"
"Ah-ha!" The man snapped his fingers, cutting Lorell off, and announced, "I know what it is!"
Kat heard Lorrell sigh in frustration behind her. "You knew all along," she muttered. Judging by the grin on Cinna's face as he began to fish something from his bag, she was right. Kat grinned.
He straightened, and moved swiftly over to her, holding out a pair of what appeared to be leather gloves, however, they were missing a rather important factor.
"Those won't cover my fingers," Kat laughed, shaking her head at the odd-looking things.
"I call them, fingerless gloves." He smiled, then added, "Eh, well the old magazine I got the design from called them fingerless gloves, but I thought it was catchy."
Kat took them, and slipped one on her hand. "How do they work? I mean, they're clearly not for keeping your fingers warm."
Cinna chuckled. "You're right, they aren't. They just look good, like sandals."
Lorell gave a rather un-lady-like snort. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.
"That's because we have two completely different ideas of the term ridiculous," Cinna whispered so only Kat could hear him. The girl stifled a giggle as Lorell crowed:
"What was that?"
"Obviously I was speaking to Miss Snow," Cinna replied calmly, straightening. "We should be heading out now. Don't want to be late do we?"
Lorell eyed him skeptically, but he was right. Lorell had no desire to be late for anything, especially not something so important. So she ushered Kat out the door and through the hallways of the mansion, to the entrance hall.
The hall was the most impressive part of the house next to President Snow's garden. The walls swooped high above their heads like wings, and branched off in swooping rafters that hung like sheets of satin from the ceiling to the walls, and met together cleverly around the sparkling chandelier that hung and gave off blooming buds of white light that gave the entire room a pristine, high-class glow.
"First impressions are the most important!" That was what her mother always said, and the entrance hall gave off quite the impression.
"Oh, Katalina!" Speak of the devil.
Kat twirled on her toes in the mock-dainty way that she knew irritated her mother to no end, and came face-to-face with the woman. Cordelia Snow was a woman of the Capitol's finest upbringing. Poised and proper, with long hair that she had been dying white for as long as Kat could remember. It was, as Kat had come to understand, tradition in the family to die the hair white in honor of the name and to show "class". Kat would be expected to do the same when she became a "lady", rather than a "young" or "little lady", whatever that meant. Her eyes were the same electric blue as Kat's, but other than that, the two had few features in common, mostly because they had been altered to such extremes.
Oh yes, another matter that made her "proper Capitol upbringing": She was annoying. "What is it you're wearing? You look-"
"I like what I'm wearing, Mother," Kat interrupted, crossing her arms.
"Well it looks dreadful! Cinna can produce much more elegant dresses!" Her mother sniffed, and played with the end of her own crimson dress that wrapped around her torso like a snake, an imaged made comical by the skirt opening stiffly and making Kat imaging the animal with its mouth held wide open, preparing to make a meal of her mother's pale legs and platforms. "Like mine."
"Maybe it's not elegant," Kat retorted, pushing back the urge to laugh at the image still playing in her head. "But, really, pink cat ears and tail don't exactly go well with elegant."
Her mother eyed her, sensing the sarcasm, but not sure where it was meant to be placed. Kat offered a toothy grin that caused the woman to roll her eyes. "We'll talk about this later," she warned before turning and trading her conversation with her daughter for a much more engaging conversation with Head Gamemaker Gorge.
Kat repeated her mother's act of annoyance, and took a seat in one of the large, white chairs that had been placed around the edges of the room, plopping her chin in her hand.
"Wow, I bet your mom's not happy about that!"
Well, this just kept getting better and better. Kat turned to see the new speaker, and the boy was already offering his teasing grin. He had come in from the door beside her seat, and was now standing by the arm, attempting to fix his cuff link.
"Why is it that you choose to be at your most obnoxious when I'm in a bad mood?" Kat snapped at him, reaching out and fixing the piece for him.
"Why is it that you choose to be in a bad mood when I'm feeling at my most obnoxious?" the boy countered, flicking the ends of his fire decorated hair out of his eyes. Slader Gorge was the Head Gamemakers son, and like a brother to the president's great-granddaughter. Well, except that, unlike family, when Slader was driving her up the wall, his presence made her face tingle with heat, and her palms sweat incessantly.
All the more reason to dislike him.
"Well, I think you look nice," Kat informed, her voice coming out very pointed.
Slader took the hint. "I didn't say I didn't think you looked nice, but we both know how your mom is. I'm sure the outfit is driving her insane to look at. I think she was hoping for something more..." he paused as though in thought, then cracking his mischievous grin he finished with, "Feminine."
"Right. So what you're saying is I look like a guy."
"Uh, no. I'm pretty sure those words never came out of my mouth," Slader replied, cocking his head as though he were trying to remember.
"But you implied them," the girl retorted sharply.
"Did not."
"You did to. Quit lying!" Kat snapped, punching his arm.
Slader frowned. "Hey! No hitting!" He objected, shoving her out of the chair in an almost playful manner.
"Hey!" She whirled, and gave the boy a more solid punch this time. "Don't push me!"
"I'll stop pushing you when you stop hitting me!" Slader snapped, shoving her, and sending her backwards, arms windmilling.
As she landed hard with a grunt, a sharp voice rang through the room, bouncing ringingly off of the walls. "Slader!" The boys face hardened, and he turned an irritated look to the tall, suited man that glided over wearing a disapproving frown. "What is wrong with you? I know I've taught you better manners!" This almost made Kat laugh. Head Gamemaker Gorge was around his son enough to teach him anything. Kat's mother was more like a parent than the man now sitting him roughly in the chair that Kat had just vacated was. "Now, apologize."
"He doesn't have to apologize," Kat spoke up feeling a sudden rush of guilt. She had just as much a hand in the fight as he did, even more, and she would not be treated as the victim now. "I hit him first. I should be the one getting in trouble." She was climbing to her feet as she spoke, straightening herself.
The man looked at her in surprise. "No, Miss Snow. He needs to apologize. It is improper for a man to lay an aggressive hand on a lady."
"Well, he's no man yet, only a boy," Kat retorted calmly.
"All the same. Now apologize, son."
"I don't want him to apologize!" Kat snapped sharply, and loudly, causing the entire room to go silent, and turn their direction. The man glanced around a moment, before his eyes fell back on the young girl.
"Miss Snow, I must insist-"
"She said she didn't want an apology, Blade," a calm, sand-papery voice rang through the hall, and the room turned quickly to find it's source. President Snow was standing at the top of the staircase, bushy eyebrows raised thoughtfully. One hand rested on the rail, while the other cradled a small box carefully. His regal manner was oddly belittling, as though, just by looking at you he could make you small.
The Head Gamemaker did not look pleased with this turn of events, but he bowed his head respectfully. "Yes sir. My apologies Miss Snow.
"Look at you, not making the situation any better," Kat mumbled.
"Katalina," The old man called, and Kat's head jerked up to look at him expectantly. He motion her over as he began his descent down the stairs, then, to the rest of the room he said, "Well, I don't know what everyone's just standing, staring for. Mingle."
On his command, the room went back to the low buzz of conversation, and by the time Kat and her grandfather had met at the bottom of the stairs, no one was paying them any more mind than was expected from the presence of the man. President Snow placed the small box, the box that held the cards of dozens of Quarter Quells to come, into her hands. She gave him a respectful nod, and tried to step back with it, but her grandfather still had a tight grip on the box. She paused, frowning, and the man bent low, so that he mouth was beside her ear, and flashed something in front of her face. "This is you're final chance to change your mind Katalina. I know what is in that box."
It was then that Kat realized what he was holding. It was the small white card that she had stolen from the box nearly a year ago, and replaced with a quell of her own. Her face hardened. "I don't want to change it."
"Katalina, your only twelve. You have your entire life ahead of you, you don't even understand the finality of death yet."
"Don't I?" She turned, meeting his cold gaze with eyes burning with hatred. "Do you honestly think I've watched twenty-three hundred children, ranging from my age to eighteen die and still don't understand death? Do you think that after watching hundreds of kids cry over fallen allies, people that they'd befriended and would never see again, that I haven't figured it out? I understand death perfectly, trust me. I know that once your heart starts beating your finished. Sure maybe your family and friends will remember you, but for how long? And even if they always remember you, someday they'll die too, and then your gone forever, unless you're special. Unless you do something to make yourself be remembered. You. You'll always be remembered as the man who started the games. If I have it my way, I'll be remembered as the girl who finished them."
"Since you're so perfectly clear on matters of life and death, then allow me to make one thing certain in your mind. If you walk into that arena a rebel...you. Will. Die," he warned venomously.
She held his gaze, and with as much venom as she carried, she replied, "So be it." Then pulled away, and allowed herself to be swept into position for the ceremony to begin.
~The Twist on the Twist~
"Arell! The Quell Reading is starting!" Arell glanced up at her little sister, Lynn, who was leaning from the door frame with one arm. She, herself had been sitting on the grungy counter top in their kitchen, watching the neighbors through the window contemplating how to get get her hands on their new pet, a small goat that must have cost a fortune to import from District 10. It would sell good in the black market.
Hopping down from her perch she snapped, "Have you gotten everyone else in front of the screen yet?"
She gave a thumbs up. "Everyone's present and accounted for."
Arell offered no praise for the work, although it may have been deserved, since dragging her father anywhere that didn't involve work or sulking was a difficult task. Oh well, Lynn knew her sister never found praise necessary. "What do you think they'll do this year?"
"No telling," Arell mumbled as they came into the small living room, where their father, and Lynn's twin sister were already waiting.
Rose was on the end of the couch, with her feet propped onto the rotting table that Arell had snatched a few weeks before. "I bet they'll send in little kids this year. Then Lynn or I'll go."
"That's your pessimism talking," Lynn scowled, flopping down beside her father.
"Your sister's right, quite being depressing," Arell growled, tugging on the younger girl's arm. "And move! You're in my spot."
"I don't see your name written on it," Rose responded irritably, but scooted over anyways.
"Don't have to put my name on it. I'm older than you, and smarter, and more skilled."
"And you carry knives," Rose grumbled, staring at her thumbs as she attempted to remove the layer of dirt underneath them.
Arell gave an irritated huff. Ever since that stupid Capitol girl had revealed that piece of knowledge to the two girls, that was all Arell ever heard. "You shouldn't be carrying knives. They could arrest you." "Knives are dangerous." "Why do you have to carry them, anyways?" It was annoying.
Luckily, Arell didn't have to reply, for at the moment the screen came to life with the Capitol seal, and the anthem blared through their small living room. And when the music quieted and the seal faded away, she was looking at the president himself, but he didn't look like his normal, smug self. Something about him seemed...off. He kept glancing behind him, and his face was set into a deep, unhappy frown. "Well that is odd."
"What?" Rose demanded, glancing from her, to the screen, then back again. "What's odd?"
"Nothing, just watch and be quiet."
Rose breathed irritably through her nose, and thumped back into the hard backrest of the couch, listening with little interest as the man made a speech about the celebration of one hundred years of peace, and the Hunger Games.
"Now, it wouldn't be appropriate to celebrate such a milestone with a simple tradition, would it?" The crowd cheered. "I agree, so for this year, we are introducing a new factor to our games. Instead of one mere twist, we will have four. The original twist for this year's Quarter Quell, as well as the three twists we have celebrated in the past years."
"What does that mean? How can they have four twists?" Lynn wondered allowed.
"Just listen," Arell snapped as the audience on the screen settled back down and the man began to continue his speech.
"This year's Quell will include forty-eight tributes representing the districts, half of whom the Districts shall vote for to honor the first and second quells, and in honor of our third, there will be two victors. For those of you who don't remember our last quell, the victors can come from any district, the same, or separate." A few hoots from the home crowd, then: "Now, shall we read the card with your fourth and final twist?"
The crowd erupted into a thunderous roar as the cameras showed a shot of the President's entourage, his daughter and granddaughter with their husbands, and the tall, dark-haired man whom Arell recognized as the Head Gamemaker, and beside him was a small boy who's hair was decorated to represent flames. Arell recognized him almost instantly. She'd had the misfortune of meeting him when he and the President's great-granddaughter had come to District 3 for whatever reason. Beside him was the tiny devil herself, wearing a dress that was peculiar even by Capitol standards, and even more troubling, gloves without any material to hide the fingers. The Capitol truly was going crazy.
She stepped forward, carrying the box that contained the quell twist, and opened it for her grandfather. The tension between the two was obvious as he removed the card that read, "100" on it's front. She remained in place as he examined the card carefully, face not flinching. "This year, to remind the Districts that their war hurt people on both sides of the conflict, the Capitol will present two tributes of their own." Lynn gasped, and Rose sat up straighter, mouth agape. Even her father seemed to stir from his trance with interest, but Arell didn't flinch. She was watching the "Capitol's Sweetheart.". "One tribute will be selected from the closest relatives of the current president of reaping age." Arell watched as the box fell from the hands of the young girl beside him, and papers skidded across the stage in every direction, but it wasn't enough. Arell could see the truth, the Capitol's Sweetheart already knew, maybe even had a hand in it. "And the second shall be selected from the children of reaping age or the highest possible ranking Gamemaker."
The boy's face fell into shock, and his head jerked around to look at his soon to be... Capitol partner? He knew she had a hand in it as well as Arell did. The rustic-haired girl sat back, smirking.
"Well, well, Miss Snow. Looks like you've gotten yourself in over your head."
I considered doing another POV, but I liked this as my ending so I was like, eh, what the hey? And I chose Arell for this particular role because I knew I wanted to do it from one of my tributes POV's, and I also knew I wanted the one I used to know that it wasn't a chance thing, that it had been rigged, and I felt that the best characters for that role would be either her, or my District 8 female Atra, but Atra has some eye issues, and besides, she's not quite as hateful towards Capitolites as Arell is, so I figured Arell would be the best. I think I may have one for Atra anyways though in the next chapter. What does everyone think? Yay or nay?
Well, I said pretty much everything else at the top, so, yeah, enjoy, and don't forget to review.
Oh yeah, new poll on my page, and Kat won fav. Character poll by four votes. Go Kat!