Promises Of Heaven: The 57th Hunger Games!

by cynicz

REUPLOADED. On the morning of the first day of the 57th Hunger Games, 24 tributes are forced into a treacherous arena filled with beasts, traps, and other rival tributes. Which of these 24 can overcome these terrors, and make it home alive? NOTE: We'll be in the actual Games soon, you can just read from there if you want! T because it's the Hunger Games. R&R!

3. Reapings: D7, D8, D9

REAPINGS PART 3

Hey, sorry I haven't been updating a lot. I just had the second half of my art exam today so at least that's done with, but I have a Spanish speaking assessment on Monday so I'm not sure when I can next update. If I can, I'll update at the weekend. Sorry! So here are the reapings for D7, D8, and D9. Enjoy!

Head Gamemaker, Lytavia Pyrisian's POV

I look at all my nail polish bottles and try to decide what colour to use, finally deciding on 'New-born Baby Blush Pink' just as Larsson calls "The reapings are back on!" I grab the bottle and quickly shuffle back down to the lounge, plonking myself down on the sofa. I untwist the cap of the nail polish and place a streak of pink on my left index finger just as Claudius Templesmith introduces the district seven reapings.

"District seven! Welcome to the reapings of the 57th Hunger Games!" the escort says enthusiastically into the microphone. "Let's do the boys first for a change, shall we?" He scampers over to the large glass orb filled with blue cards on the left of the stage. And then grabs a card and holds it out to the audience as he walks back over to his spot, centre-stage. The escort flicks open the card with long nailed fingers, and grins as he eyes the name. "Your male tribute this year is… Fry Yeardley!"

"EEEP!" I squeal and jump, ruining the nail polish I was just doing on my left pinkie.

"Oh God, he's not-" Larsson starts to say, when I interrupt him.

"Yes! His sister Florence won a few years ago! The 54th Games, I think. Oh the brother of a past victor! Fabulous!"

"Isn't it just?" Larsson speaks enthusiastically.

He walks up to the stage, taking small steps. Once he reaches the stage, I take a good look at him. He is fairly well muscled, like most people from seven, and has brown hair that is short round the sides and slightly longer on the top, sweeping down over his forehead and stopping above his thick eyebrows, which are creased worriedly.

The escort gasps loudly into the microphone. "Fry Yeardley, the brother of Florence Yeardley, who won the Games 3 years ago everybody! How old are you, Fry?"

"Fifteen." He replies. The crowd cheer half-heartedly as Fry takes two steps backwards and stands behind the escort as he makes his way over to the girls' orb. He quickly grabs the card that is right in the centre of the orb, laying on the surface of the ocean of pink. He saunters back to the middle of the stage and opens up the card. "Celeste Hettie!"

A scream permeates through the air. The cameras quickly spin around and zoom in on a small girl with wavy brown hair pushing through the crowd. Some Peacekeepers are making their way through the crowd to her easily. This girl will not get away from my Games.

One of the Peacekeepers places a hand on her shoulder, and she slams her small fist right into his gut. But when she turns around, there is another Peacekeeper in front of her, and she can't get away. The two Peacekeepers hoist her up, holding her under the arms, and she kicks and screams right up until she is stood in the middle of the stage.

"…Erm. Well how old are you, dear?" the escort askes her slowly. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder which she quickly shrugs off.

"I'm only fourteen." She says in a croaky, trying-not-to-cry voice. All of a sudden, tears form in her eyes. Wait a minute! One of her eyes is green, and the other is blue.

"Eugh! Look at her eyes! Larsson look at her eyes!" I squeak.

"Your tributes this year, ladies and gentlemen, Fry Yeardley and Celeste Hettie!" About 30% of the crowd clap, but very slowly.

"Those reapings were a bit dramatic!" Larsson exclaims which is true. A victor's brother and someone who tried to run.

Claudius Templesmith announces the district 8 reapings, which are sure to be a disappointment after the district seven ones.

"Welcome to the 57th reapings, district 8!" chimes a small, rat like escort. "Ladies first!" She says as she struts over to the pink-filled orb on the right of the stage. She pulls out a card with a flourish, and opens it while still stood by the orb. "Azula Markham! Come on up Azula!"

A girl with long, copper hair walks up to the stage, looking dazed with glassed over grey-green eyes.

"How old are you, hun?" asks the ratty escort. Azula doesn't reply, just bites her lip and looks off into some world hanging in front of her eyes only. "Azula?" the escort nudges the girl.

"Oh! What?"

"I asked how old you are, dear."

"Oh... I'm fourteen."

"Azula Markham, everybody!" The crowd does not applaud her. "Well, now the boys!" She scampers over to the boy's orb and yanks a blue card out, right from the middle of the ocean of cards. "And your male tribute is, district eight… Sarkal Olin!"

A small boy, with dark skin and dark hair walks up to the stage, with a solemn look on his face. "How old are you Sarkal?"

"Please, call me Kal. I'm 13." He says into the microphone.

"Well, I'm not sure about the girl, but he's so small, I can't imagine him getting far. Unless he can hide well and run fast." Larsson says. I agree. That's the only way the small ones survive in the Games, that or being allied with someone strong. I didn't hear the last thing the ratty escort said, and before I even finish thinking about the deaths of the smaller tributes in past Games, Claudius Templesmith is announcing another break.

I continue painting my nails, and Larsson starts to flick through this morning's newspaper, the front page story being about how the reapings are today. Next thing I know the district nine town square in on the TV.

"Hello district nine! Happy Hunger Games!" hollers the district's escort. "Ladies first, as usual!" she shuffles over to the girls orb in her nine inch heels, and wiggles her fingers over the mouth of the orb, before plunging her hand in and taking out a card. "The district 9 lady for this year is… Daisy Brunswick!"

Slowly, a curvy girl with dark, curly black hair walks up to the stage. "How old are you girl?"

"I'm sixteen." She says in a calm, quiet voice.

"Daisy Brunswick, everybody!" calls the escort, gesturing her baby blue fingered hand towards Daisy. "And now for the boys!" She shouts, as she walks away from Daisy and towards the blue card filled orb. She plunges her hand deep in to the cards, rummages around for a few moments, and then pulls one out. "And the district nine male for this year is… Ganymede Leonis!"

A few sniggers come from the crowd as a boy with dark hair makes his was up to the stage. "Ganymede! What's your age?"

The boy stands in silence, until he finally mumbles something inaudible into the microphone. "Twelve, you say? Well ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for this year," the escort grabs Daisy and Ganymede's hands, "Daisy Brunswick and Ganymede Leonis!"

The screen fades to black as Daisy and Ganymede are ushered into the Justice building, and Claudius Templesmith announces another break. After the break, will be the last three reapings, district 10, district 11, and district 12, and then all twenty-four of my tributes will be on their way to the Capitol. Then in a matter of days, my Games will begin.

So I hope you liked it. I only realised that D7 was so dramatic when I re-read it… haha. Well anyway, just three more reapings, then I think I'll go straight to the chariot rides and the tributes' POV.

Please review!

Jamie.