Author's Note: I am proud to present the second, and last, part of my hunger games reapings. Not much to say except enjoy and I will see you down at the bottom of the screen. End Note.
District 7
A brisk breeze blew through the trees, the sound of rustling leaves sounding through the large grassy clearing in between the woods where the residents of the district usually worked. Birds sang and flew to and from their nests. Tall, strong oak trees created the boarder of the clearing. At the far end stood the large metal stage, adorned with television screens and solar panels.
The sun shown down on the woods, something that seemed to happen a lot as the majority of the people watching the stage were tanned. Many of the perspective tributes were fit, having strong builds despite their respective sizes, hardened from the hard work they all took part of in the woods, felling and transporting trees, each one looking to the stage, their gazes as hard and strong as the oaks that they worked with. None of them were eager to be there. Some may have even been scared, but they all stood firm, perfectly reflecting the export that they produced.
This is what Benita Rivas saw when she looked out onto the district that she had been assigned to, a group of hard workers in their natural habitat, ready for what came their way, desired or not.
Dressed in a simple evergreen sundress she made her way across the stage to address the people. She wore no makeup. Her hair was sleek and black, yet long and straight, no creative hairstyles, no product. Were it not for her position on the stage, it would be hard to distinguish her from any other resident of the Capitol.
She approached the microphone that had been placed on the stage for her and tapped on it once, leaning in nervously before talking into it, her voice soft.
"Um… Excuse me please." Any talking in the crowd stopped and all eyes turned to her. "T-thank you…" She paused and took a deep breath, regaining herself. "Allow me to start again. Thank you for welcoming me into your district. I have been here for three days now and have seen a lot of your beautiful home. It almost makes me sad that I have to leave, but sadly I must, and it is my job to select two of you strong residents of district 7 to accompany me back and take part in the games."
There was no response from the audience, no claps, no nods, no looks of joy, or anger for that matter. Just silent watching. The peacekeepers moved to wheel the bowls over but Benita held her hand up to stop them. Moving gracefully across the stage she took the bowl of female names and wheeled it forward herself before moving back and bringing forward the male names. She gave the peacekeepers a thankful smile as she did.
"So, without any more unnecessary ceremony, the young female who will be sharing my ride to the capitol shall be…" she plucked the card from the top of the pile. She looked at the card and looked a bit saddened by the name, but quickly hid it. "Hollis Sewell!"
A loud scream came from the male side. "NOOOOO!" one of the older boys, around 17 cried out. The tall, strong man started pushing his way through the crowd, across the isle and to the female side where a small girl of 13 watched him, panic on her face. She stood at 5 foot even, her long, braided hair started further up her head, allowing her slightly larger, tanned forehead to show through. She watched him, her hazel eyes begging him to stay where he was until he final fought his way to her and wrapped his strong arms around her. Despite her being obviously younger and shorter she somehow seemed bigger than him as she wrapped her arms gently around him, comforting him.
Tears flowed from her eyes but she remained in control of herself as she spoke to him softly. The older boy, her brother, seemed to be soothed by her words. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulder and looked into her eyes before speaking to her, his face hidden from view. Hollia nodded as her brother spoke as the peacekeepers made their way to the two, pulling the older sibling from the younger and leading her to the stage.
"Mizell" the young girl called back to her brother. "Remember what I said before. I'll win. I promise, I'll be back." As she turned back to the stage her face sunk a bit, unsure of how well she believed her own words.
Benita met Hollia on the stage. The young girl looked up to the escort who looked back with care before pulling her into a hug, The girl gratefully hugged back before releasing and taking her spot on the stage, sniffling once but trying to hold a her composure.
Benita watched the young girl before making her way to the other bowl, picking one out. Before she could pull it out of the bowl a voice called out.
"I volunteer!"
There was a wave of gasps and murmurs as a tall boy with messy, walnut hair stepped forward, slowly. He was surprisingly pale for his district, and not as well built as other boys. He was thin, good looking even, but his most distinguishing feature were his eyes, which were completely glassed over.
The murmurs continued until they were interrupted by the cry of a young female.
"Indigo, what are you doing?" A 16-year-old girl with long hair of the same color came out from the crowd to approach the 18-year-old boy. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek. He smiled, his head turning to her general direction. Reaching up he felt her cheek and moved his hand towards her mouth, placing one finger over it, effectively shushing her.
Without another word he turned towards the stage, feeling around to make sure he didn't run into anyone. One of the peacekeepers stepped forth and gave him a hand, guiding him to the stage. Everything was silent.
The peacekeeper guided the young man to the stairs of the stage, placing his hand on the banister, which he used to guide himself the rest of the way up. Benita looked at him, walking over and placing her hand on his shoulder.
"Are you sure?" she spoke softly to him and he nodded. She guided him to the center of the stage and sighed; now speaking into the microphone. "Well then young man, why don't you introduce yourself to the world?"
She guided the male tribute to the microphone and he began to speak. "My name is Indigo Weller, and for those of you who can't tell, I am blind." He paused and smiled at this. "I look forward to seeing you all in the arena." He chuckled at this before stepping back, Benita taking the microphone back.
"Well then, thank you. Now, please, both of you shake hands." Indigo turned towards Hollia's general direction and held out his hand, which she took and shook, though she was obviously confused.
Benita nodded and looked out to the rest of the district. "Thank you all, Happy Hunger Games." She turned back to the two tributes and her tone changed to one of worry. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."
District 8
The city was a dramatic change from the previous districts. Whereas the majority of the other districts had a more rural feel or had more factories than cities, District 8 was very much a place to live first and work second. City blocks held tall apartment buildings, stores, and restaurants. There was a warehouse or factory hear and there, but the city feel was not dominated by them.
The residents were the epitome of fashion; as well they should be with this being the textiles district. Whereas other district citizens were dressed in their Sunday bests, the residents of district 8 went far beyond, wearing the latest fashions of their district in hopes of being seen by people in the capitol and having their shops and businesses discovered by more prestigious customers.
And indeed, rather than entering from the wing of the stage as was custom for most escorts, Jasper Pennington walked towards the stage through the isle between the boys and the girls, taking time to look at the wondrous outfits that surrounded him, pausing to feel the material, truly enamored by the crowd's ensembles as each one cheered and reached for his attention.
He himself was dressed in a very flamboyant suit, no two pieces the same color, yet all of them bright and somehow matching. He made his way to the stage, climbing the stairs backwards as to continue watching the district as they cheered him, soaking it all in.
He took his place in front of his microphone and smiled to the district.
"Thank you, thank you all for your warm welcome. It feels so good to be here, seeing all of your smiling faces, all of your wonderful clothes, I can truly see why district 8 is the lead in all fashion exports." This brought a cheer from the crowd. "Now, you all know why I'm here, and it's not to go clothes shopping." He pointed to one of the males in the audience. "Though I'll take one of those in my size to go" He chuckled. "It's my job to once again pick the two youngsters to take their place amongst the 24 in the 61st annual hunger games."
This quieted the crowd. Jasper knew fashion, and loved it, and they knew him for it, but he was also about business and knew a job needed to be done. He nodded to the two peacekeepers waiting in the wings who came in, wheeling forth the name bowls.
"So, without further ado, the name of the lucky female tribute this year is" He reached into a bowl and pulled out a card at random, unfolding it and reading the name. "Sora Lev!"
There was a silence that swept through the audience. Right in the front of the female crowd stood a very pretty 16 year old. She stood at about 5"8' with pale skin and a light layer of freckles. She was thin, her platinum hair flowing down her back, a few locks in her face, accentuating her dark blue eyes. Her long, blue dress hung from her shoulders, dipping low in the back, but just enough in the front to be both sensual and yet somehow modest. She gawked at the stage, and then started looking around frantically at the other girls, as if looking for one of them to step in. All of them looked away from her, avoiding her gaze.
Sora's gaze turned hard, her face turning angry as she pushed two of the girls next to her out of the way and made her way to the stage. She looked back to the crowd. "I guess what they say is true. You never know who your friends are until you need them, and no one is safe." She turned her attention to the man standing at the back of the stage, the mayor of the district. "Right dad?" She didn't wait for an answer as she took her spot on the stage, flipping the few strands of hair behind her ear and looking dead at the camera, putting forth the most apathetic look possible. She didn't care anymore, and that was what she was showing to the capitol.
Jasper nodded, watching the girl's face turn cold. "Wow, what a show already? The daughter of a government official, picked and scorned by the friends she held dear. You can't make this stuff up." He spoke with a smile and a showman's attitude. "Well, let's just hope that the male tribute is just as entertaining."
He reached his hand into the bowl of male names and pulled out a card, unfolding it has he read aloud "Avish Cerall!"
In the middle of the male crowd stood a young boy of 14. He stood at about 5'7 with a rounded face, thick jawline, and long straight brown hair that fell down to his shoulders, however, what stood out most about him were his jade green eyes, magnified by the pair of thick glasses that lay resting on his nose, an unusual thing to see on people, especially in a more well to do and fashionable district such as 8.
Dressed in a black tuxedo like suit, the young boy was paralyzed, looking out with a blank stare. Jasper watched, unamused and nodded to one of the peacekeepers who made his way to the stunned child, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders.
As soon as the peacekeeper came into contact with the boy he began to struggle, fighting to get free, crying out. The peacekeeper kept his grip and led the boy to the stage forcefully as Jasper watched.
"There we go, our second tribute ladies and gentlemen, and what an entrance. So this year we have" He turned to Sora. "A princess," he turned back to Avish "and a mouse." He chuckled out loud. "Seems to me like this will be either a very interesting, or very boring game this year."
With that he bowed to the crowd, whose reactions were mixed at the moment, turned away, and walked towards the government building, the peacekeepers leading the two teenagers behind him.
District 9
The sun was high in the sky, shining its rays down on the crops and fields that the district had worked so hard to grow. The district itself was mostly made up of the fields, large beds of dirt going on as far as the eye could see, different beds holding different crops, wheat, barley, many different types of grains. There were watery fields with rice patties growing out of them far off in the distance.
The stage for the reapings was built next to a large red barn that usually held equipment for the day-to-day workings of the district residents, who now stood in next to the fields, divided by gender as with all the other districts. The majority of the population was strong and tanned from working in the fields all day. All of them watched the stage, silent, composed, resigned to the idea that by the end of this day, two of their children would no longer be with them, perhaps never to return again.
Bernardo Rich swooped across the stage to his microphone and looked out to all of the residents, pausing before he began. The middle-aged escort was no stranger to the products exported by the district or the hard work that was put into each and every crop. He inhaled deeply, exhaled, and began to speak into the microphone.
"That's the smell of hard work. Every crop that is produced by your district is a gift to this country and a testament to what true manual labor can produce. That's what makes District 9 one of the greatest export districts around, despite what anyone else might say." He looked out at his audience once more but got no reply, not that he was expecting one. This was Bernardo's fourth year working with this district and he was no stranger to their habit of holding back any reactions when it came to the games, it was probably for the better anyway.
The two bowls of names were already set up in on the stage for him to go through. Looking back at them he turned to his apathetic audience and smiled. "Well then, without further ado, I suppose it's time to choose the two tributes that will represent your district this year."
Turning back to the bowls he circled the first one, pulling a name out before taking his original spot back, unfolding the card and read the name aloud.
"Roshan Davis!"
In the middle of the crowd of females stood a young girl, only 13 years old. She was short, only about 5'2". Her skin was a shade similar to milk chocolate while her hair, which was done up in a ponytail that hung down to her shoulders, was a pure black. She had a small build, looking malnourished yet still seemed somehow fit. Her face was washed, though the effects of working in the dirt and mud all day was still there, having a few blackheads lying around it. Her arms and lets, which were visible due to her short sleeves and skirt, were covered in tiny scars. They looked like nothing but scratches now, but many of them looked like they had at one point been much deeper.
Hearing her own name caused Roshan to flinch for a minute, then she started looking around, as if not sure what was happening. She looked around to some of the other people around her who were now staring at her. She leaned over to one of them and whispered something to her. The other girl looked even more startled and responded frantically, making motions to the stage. Roshan nodded, looking up at the stage, then waked towards the isle. She looked back to the girl she was talking to and gave her a reassuring smile, catching her by surprise before making her way up to the stage and taking her spot, smiling at everyone in the district. Her smile wasn't one of joy, or of humor, but one of consolation, making others thinking she was perfectly happy so that they wouldn't worry.
Bernardo smiled with her, his less reassuring and more contented with the tribute that he had selected. Without another word he turned back to the bowls and reached into the other one, pulling out another card.
"This year's male tribute will be Jay Young."
The male tribute seemed a few years older than the female one, and it showed. He was taller, by almost 10 inches, though a good portion of his height came from his legs, and he had long arms to match. He was a thin boy, also underfed with much darker skin than his soon to be female companion, cropped black hair, and dark brown eyes. Despite all of this, if it weren't for all of the people watching him in bewilderment, he would have faded into the crowd.
He wore a bewildered look, one of surprise, not sure that he had heard right. He looked up to the stage and pointed to himself. Bernardo nodded in response. Jay nodded back and looked around him, his face turning to one of awe as he started making his way towards the stage. It was clear that he didn't know quite how to feel, his face switching from being shocked to being amazed, to so many other emotions, both positive and negative as he took his spot on stage next to Roshan, still uncertain on how to feel.
Bernardo smiled and nodded, looking from both tributes to the audience, to the cameras, making sure that everyone saw him. "Perfect, simply perfect. Such enthusiastic tributes, who could ask for anything more? Ladies and gentlemen, Capitol citizens, I thank you, all of you, for sharing this with me and wish you all a Happy Hunger Games. May the odds be EVER in your favor."
He turned to the two tributes and ushered them back stage.
District 10
Shana Acevedo grimaced as she stepped out from the government building and onto the stage, holding her arm up to shield her eyes from the sun. This was her first year working district 10, never before had she been in such an environment where wild animals were held. The smell was the first thing that she noticed. Her black dress carried in the wind that blew across the large, dusty expanse of land, dust kicking up in the breeze as well, rustling between the divided residents of the district.
Though not many people in the capitol knew just what it meant for a district to produce livestock, but one look at the district's population usually cleared up any confusion. Every male over the age of 14 was well built and strong. Even if they weren't big and muscular, they were all strong and tanned. Every person in the district, young or old, had a sense of maturity to him or her. One look in their eye and you could tell that they had knowledge beyond their years, ideas on life and death, and the lay of the land. Their job was the birth, and murder, of animals, living beings, and it showed through the wizened eyes of every resident.
This caused Shana to take a step back, never having seen anything like it before. She regained her composure and looked out at the audience, clearing her throat into the microphone.
"It is my honor, to stand here before you all, residents of district 10, and other residents of the capitol, as official escort for this district. As such, it is my distinct honor to select the lucky boy and girl to journey to the capitol and take part in the hunger games, one of whom may return to you with all of the glory and wealth that comes with being the best of the best." She spoke with enthusiasm, but something about her tone seemed off. Perhaps it was that she was put off by all of these people staring at her, but she tried to put that aside.
"So, if the peacekeepers will please bring forth the tribute names?" as they did she turned to face them, and then the audience, "We shall begin."
She turned away from the audience and took in a deep breath as she reached into the first bowl, pulled a name out, and composed herself before turning back to the district, unfolding the paper to read aloud.
"Jamor Lovet!"
That's when the screaming started. From two different people in the women's section there was screaming. An older woman in her 40's in the back was crying hysterically, wailing cries of "NO!" calling out the name. Near the front, a much younger woman was holding onto the 12 year old tribute, for dear life. For her age Jamor was a bit tall, her silky black hair fell down to her shoulders with bangs that hung down just into her deep green eyes. She was thin, practically frail with scrawny arms and legs.
"I VOLUNTEER!" the older girl was shouting at the top of her lungs. "Don't take her. She's too young. I'll go instead!" She didn't move from Jamor's side. She just kept shouting. "My name is Ule Lovet. I will take her place. Just don't take my sister, Please!"
Shana looked out to the two sisters, holding onto each other, then looked over to the peacekeepers. One of them pulled out a list of names and searched through it. He brought the list over to Shana and pointed to something on it. Shana nodded then turned back to the microphone.
"According to our records you are 19 Ms. Lovet and are therefore not allowed to volunteer for these games."
Ule shook her head. "NO, NO, I only turned 19 last month. I can do it. Please!"
The peacekeepers walked towards the sisters and forced them apart, Ule still screaming. Jamor was unable to talk. With everyone watching her and the overwhelming feeling of what was going on around her all she could do was reach for her sister, and be moved by the peacekeepers, her pale skin turning as red as a tomato. They dragged the younger girl to the stage where she stood, looking away from the audience, unable to face them, knowing she wouldn't be doing so again. The crying in the crowd continued, but now was getting more distant as another peacekeeper dragged the older sister away from the stage, her fate to be unknown to Jamor.
Shana looked to the female, making sure that she wasn't about to run. When she was satisfied with the young girl's shock she turned and pulled out a name from the second bowl before reading it into the mic.
"The second tribute this year will be… Trent…"
"I VOLUNTEER!"
Everyone turned to find the source of this outburst. A short, skinny male of 17 started making his way through the crowd. His black hair was cut short. His skin was just as pale as Jamor's, but despite his thin appearance, he seemed somehow well built.
People started muttering under their breaths as they walked buy. He made his way to the stage, pushing people out of his way, a sick, almost sadistic smile on his face as he took his place.
Shana offered him the microphone to introduce himself. "My name's Alex Tate, owner of one of the top slaughter houses here in good ol' District 10." His smile widened as he turned to the female tribute next to him. "I look forward to seein' you at the games." He tried to hide the sick thoughts he was having, but his sadistic nature was peeking through anyway.
Shana took the microphone back from him and gave a forced chuckle, she was obviously creeped out by the performances that she had seen that day, but she worked through it.
"And there you go Capitol Citizens, your tributes from District 10. Lets hope that this turns into an eventful game this year. Happy Hunger Games."
She looked behind her, now speaking more to the young girl than the older boy. "May the odds be ever in your favor."
District 11
District 11 had always been the largest provider of produce for the capitol as a whole. Anytime one bites into any fruit or vegetable it's hard to imagine anything but the fields and orchards that span across the entire district. That being said, while the district itself is exactly as one would imagine, luscious, green, expansive, the people on the other hand were surprising to behold.
Whereas the fields were vibrant and full of food, the citizens were not. The majority of them seemed underfed and over worked. It was definitely a surprise. Patsy Drake, the official escort for district 11 had always heard that it was the strictest district when it came to enforcing laws and rules, but had no idea just how far that went.
The first observation she made was the peacekeepers. The sheer number alone seemed to outclass any of the other districts by far, but more than that, how actively they seemed to work was impressive as well. In other districts, the level of peacekeeper guard was minimal, usually restricted to a few lined up front of the stage and in the wings, here they seemed to be just about all over the place, keeping watch and guard over their charges.
Many of the older, and even some of the younger members seemed to have what appeared to be scars on their visible areas, and presumably more underneath their clothes. Patsy couldn't help but look at them and feel sorry for the whole district, to be so different, and so put upon.
She made her way up to her microphone and waited for the attention of the residents. Most of them were already quiet and attentive with the exception of a few smaller children. Two peacekeepers stepped forward, causing the older kids next to them to get their attention and quiet them down. This seemed to visibly disturb Patsy.
"Ummmm, yes, thank you." She spoke with nervousness in her voice that she tried to cover with a sweeter, more caring tone. "It's a pleasure to be here, truly." She looked around, hoping for some sort of reaction, something to help the awkwardness of the situation, but nothing came. She took in another deep breath and nodded. "As escort for district 11 this year it is my distinct honor to select the tributes for this year." She turned around to find the two bowls behind her already. She reached into the one designated for girls and pulled one of the cards out.
"And so, the first tribute of district 11, your female, will be miss…" She unfolded the card. "Petrichor Oakley"
The 18-year-old female tribute flinched from surprise. She had a tall, slender figure with enough muscle from working in the fields all day. Her hair was long and black, falling free just past her shoulders. Despite the impoverished nature of her district, her clothes seemed to be just a little nicer than those of the other residents.
She looked around to the other girls who looked at her with looks of pity and sorrow. She shook her head and put on a brave face, showing them that it was all right. She steadily made her way to the stage. She stopped as she passed the mayor of the district, looking right at him. He tried to look away but she shook her head and hugged him, hard. He hugged her back, holding back a few tears. She pulled back from the hug and he kissed her forehead. She nodded as she let go of him and took her place on the stage.
Patsy watched this, her face turning saddened as she watched the emotional display. As the first tribute took her place on stage she looked to the audience and wiped a single tear out of her eye before turning back to the crowd.
"Yes, well. Perhaps we should move on."
She reached into the other bowl and pulled out the second card she found, opening it to read.
"Eli McCall!"
The young man who was called looked around with complete disbelief. He was short, only 13 years old, with dark skin, black skin, and light brown eyes. His disbelief turned to fear as he looked around him. Many of the other boys around him moved away from him, creating a nice space with him in the center. The young boy started to cry, unable to control himself.
Behind him, an older boy made his way through the crowd towards Eli. This boy was a dead ringer for an older version of the younger one, 17 years old with the same features, with a few differences. His shoulders were much broader and he had a much more muscular build.
The older boy placed his hand on Eli's shoulder. Eli looked up at him and was met with a reassuring smile and nod. The little boy was even more shocked now as the elder stepped passed him and looked to the stage.
"I will take his place. I volunteer to be the male tribute. My name is Dayo McCall."
Dayo took a step towards the stage when Eli grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Dayo turned to look at him, smiled and tussled the boy's hair before turning back and walking to the stage, breaking free of Eli's grasp. He made his way up onto the stage and stopped as he passed Petrichor. He smiled as he looked to her.
"Fancy meeting you here Pet."
She couldn't help but smile at this. "Still protecting your little brother are you Dayo? You know it's gonna be the death of you one day right?"
He nodded. "Probably, but lets just hope it's not today."
Pet nodded. "Here's hoping."
With that Dayo gave her a quick hug. "Good luck Pet."
Pet hugged him back. "You too Dayo."
He let go of her and took his place on stage.
Patsy nodded as she watched the show of sportsmanship between the two and couldn't help but smile herself.
"Thank you all, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
District 12
Pitiful. Truly this is the only word that can be used to describe a district of this low caliber. Inferior in just about every meaning of the word, not just to the capitol, but also to the other districts as well. District 12 was well known for being the poorest of all the districts, its main export being coal, a product that is used so infrequently in the capitol that it was practically obsolete.
Enoch Love looked out onto the district with a grimace. Out in front of him stood nothing but a shambles. The people of the district were thin, underfed, malnourished, unkempt, and filthy, even if they had taken baths, the stain of coal still showed on their skin. There were no paved roads in the district, and the area in front of the stage where the residents stood was nothing more than a sandy lot that otherwise would have just as well held some sleeping homeless.
The houses of the district were in major disrepair, or rather, should have been slated to be condemned had the district had any money to replace them. All in all, it was quite a poor excuse for a home, and Enoch was not happy to be there. He looked around at the dirty people below him and set out a long sigh into the microphone.
"Alright, alright. Happy Hunger Games everybody." He spoke with a rather snide, uninterested tint in his voice. "As duly appointed escort between your district and the capitol it is my… pleasure," he stretched out that word. "To be here in front of you and pick which two of you will be fighting for the capitol. So lets just get it over with already."
There was no reaction from anyone in the crowd, not that he really expected one. They all knew what this meant. Two of them would be picked, two of them would be leaving, and none of them would be coming back. They knew it, he knew it, the entire capitol knew it, but he couldn't rightly say 'let's pick which two of you will be dying this year.'
He turned his back to the residents without care as he moved himself to retrieve the two bowls of names, having seen that the peacekeepers didn't care to move and get them for him. He sighed again as he rolled each one to their place on stage and took his place back at the microphone.
"Good, now that that's taken care of," he shot a nasty look at the peacekeepers, "Lets start with the lucky female that will join me on my trip back to the capitol." His tone was devoid of any enthusiasm. He reached into one of the bowls and pulled out a card with the female's name on it. "Angela Forest."
There was a short, high-pitched squeak from somewhere in the crowd. In the middle of the female group stood a small, young girl with pale skin, dark curly hair, and large grey eyes. She was small and thin, underfed like the rest of her district. She hung her head and began walking towards the stage, her face hidden. As she walked into the isle she turned to face the males, finding one older boy in the crowd. She stopped place, watching him for a moment before turning away and hanging her head again. A few tears rolled from her cheeks to the dusty ground below her but she kept walking, completely devoid of any emotion by the time she reached her place on stage.
Enoch wasn't impressed at all, merely nodding in a feeble attempt to show acceptance of the female tribute. He turned away from everyone to retrieve a name from the male's bowl. Pulling it out, he unfolded it and read it before turning to the audience to announce its contents.
"Marc Sutcliffe"
There were several cries from the crowd, but all of them seemed to come from the smaller children of the district. Near the back of the males group stood a group of young boys all gathered round a tall 15 year old. He had light skin and long light brown hair. His face was thin, like the rest of him, yet he seemed somewhat well built, strong, muscular even. His grey eyes reflected the light of the sun as a few dabs of water seemed to form at the bottom, but he held them back.
The crowd of children stood close to him, holding on to his legs, some of the younger girls crossing the isle to join the boys at his feet. Marc himself was stunned, unsure what to do, but he managed to move enough to look at the crowd of younger kids gathering around him. His surprised face turned into a calm one as he knelt down to look at the kids.
"Hey, hey, don't do that. Don't worry. I'll be back." His tone was soft, delicate, caring. He tussled the hair of the boy closest to him and smiled. "Count on it. I'll be back and we'll do all the fun things we used to." The other kids just watched him, saddened, but somehow reassured.
With that Marc got up again and made his way through the crowd of kids towards the stage, gently pulling free of their grasps. Some of the younger kid's siblings watched him and nodded to him as a show of respect as the young children found their way to them, taking their hands and watching Marc.
Marc took his spot on stage and Enoch nodded to him, then to Angela. He turned back to the front, looking more to the cameras than to the people. "And with that we have our last two tributes for this year's hunger games. Thank you very much people, and I look forward to seeing you back in the capitol."
Without further ceremony he turned around and ushered the two tributes into the government building behind the stage.
Author's Note: There you have it, 12 more wonderful children to join us in the Capitol and fight to the death. I do hope you have enjoyed the reapings as well as the characters presented within. As with chapter 1 I would like your comments on that matter, which characters you like, which ones you hate, which one's you're rooting for, which ones you want to see thrown off of a mountain into a firey pit of pointy metal spikes (not to give any spoilers :P) and all in all, just what you think overall.
That being said, the Chariot rides are about two thirds of the way done. I will be away this weekend at Animenext, so I won't be able to finish until afterwards. But who knows, perhaps I'll run into you lucky readers there and you can tell me in person just how much you hate my writing. Looking forward to it, and once again, Happy Hunger Games. End Note
