Many Tributes, Many Districts
Part Two
Rustic Rivendale, District Five
Rustic twiddles a long strand of her blonde hair between her fingertips, as she sighs looking out to the dismal lands of District Five. What on Earth did I do to deserve such a crappy district? I don't have a career pack or even one of the pretty districts. Rustic sighs again, looking out to the almost barren lands of district five, there was not much to see but the clouds of ash that settle in the skyline.
The only good thing about district five is the money that surrounds such an important, but ugly, district. Rustic pulls herself up from the patch of grass that she had sat on for some time, in hopes of catching a glimpse of something remotely attractive or interesting. Alas, there is nothing that would tempt Rustic away from her small but luxurious cabin on the edge of the district.
How Rustic wishes she could be back in the Capitol so she could again wear one of her lavish ocean blue gowns and have her hair styled above her head in adventurous ways. District five doesn't provide the correct locations for nice clothing, nor does it have stylists to deal with her somewhat unruly blonde mop of hair.
But no, she must be watching over the tributes that will surely die because they aren't careers from one, two and four. They aren't intelligent like three and they don't understand food like eleven, they are practically as hopeless as district twelve and twelve is the worse. How Phoenix, district twelve's escort, remains so positive is beyond Rustic and her mental capabilities.
Which, let me tell you, are few and far between.
Rustic goes to her room, lit by a large chandelier made from diamonds. The floor is carpeted by bear skin and bleached a white shade. The walls are painted a pale orange shade and covered by small rhinestones, on Rustic's instruction. She does love things that sparkle. They almost distract her sometimes.
She picks out a dress made of the finest satin in the Capitol. It is a fuchsia shade and the bodice of the dress is embroidered by golden thread. She pulls the soft fabric over her head and shimmies slightly in the dress to make sure the large slit down the middle shows of her tanned, well sculpted legs.
She walks out of the house but before she does, she picks out her rhinestone silver shoes, shoving her feet in them before running as she realises she will be late for the reapings and surprisingly enough, she does want President Willows to have her executed.
That's what happened to the last district five escort, Gecko Rivendale, Rustic's brother.
Before Rustic has to go onto the stage she meet with the twelve annual Hunger Games Victor, Precious Don. Precious had extremely tanned skin and deep brown eyes, and her hair matches the shade of her eyes and cascades down her back in curls. Precious has always dressed simply and now she is wearing a white linen shirt and a pair of battered old jeans and sandals encrusted with jewels. Around her wide eyes she wears a blue eye liner.
"Rustic, darling!" she coos, running over to the younger escort, hugging her tightly to her body, allowing to breathe in her scent of pine wood.
"Oh, Precious, dear you look fabulous!" Rustics says, her tone over the top and completely and utterly fake. I hate this Bitch.
The reason behind this is simply because Precious is intelligent, beautiful and simply charming, Rustic hates it when people can out do her. And Precious does, in every single god damn way.
They walk onto the stage hand in hand, despite the fact they both hate each other more than the government hates the rebels. When Rustic makes it up onto the stage, she makes sure to swish her hips and show of her model like legs. She can see Precious tutting and she makes a mental note to make her life a living hell this year.
"Hell you district five beauties, I hope you are all doing well and may the odds forever be in your favour," she says, before delving her hands into the bowl for the girls of district five. "Jemima Lerato!"
Jemima initially protests strongly, fighting against Peacekeepers fiercely. She slams her head into the face shield of one of the Peacekeepers and Rustic can't help but gasp as she watches a little blooded tooth fall to the floor. It is then she gives in and makes her way up to the stage. Jemima is an intimidating presence simply because she is so massive. Jemima is a very tall woman of dark skin colouring. She has a thickset, curvy body. Her eyes are dark brown. Her poofy, thick black hair is cut at the shoulders and continually held back with a navy bandana. She wears a white shirt and a navy skirt.
"Lovely start Jemima, boys next!" she says before picking out a name from the large bowl on the other side of the stage that takes up most of the centre of district five. "Welt Watt!"
He breaks down and pushes everyone out of the way. He looks around scared and tries his best to find an escape route. He looks to run but every corner he goes to, there's too many people there or peacekeepers are waiting for him. He realises that there's no escape so he drops onto his knees, pours out crying, and begs for someone to volunteer for him. Rustic watches on, almost sorry for the little boy.
Almost.
When he finally pulls himself up from the floor, he walks onto the stage with a very deflated and broken look upon his features. Welt has dark black hair hangs in a mop over his forehead, hiding his face. He has yellow eyes that sparkle in the midday sunlight with a peachy complexion. A tear falls onto his sparkling gray-blue hoodie. Alongside the hoodie he wears dark wash jeans and light brown boots.
Rustic grabs Jemima and Welt hands, lifting them high above her head, as she gives the camera her award winning smile.
No seriously, it has won awards.
"Thank you district five!"
Rustic walks off the stage, with the two tributes hands still in hers despite the fact she wants to break free from these grubby little urchins. When they reach the Justice Building both of the kids run off in different directions to say their last goodbyes to their families.
Rustic goes to meet up with Precious so they could get on the train together. The one fault of the Justice Building is the fact there is only one elevator, precious got there first and as Rustic runs, precious keeps it open. When she finally gets there, after realising that heels aren't meant for running, Precious presses the up button, leaving Rustic to sulk on the ground floor.
Bitch.
Indigo Ballantynn, District Six
Indigo wakes up at the crack of dawn, as the light creeps through his white curtains and the shimmering beams settle on his eyelids. He has to blink a few time before he is able to open his eyes and face the bright rays of light that always disturb his pleasant sleep.
He slowly pulls the cream coloured duvet from his body, letting the air from outside to cool his body. And for a few moments he lays there, inhaling deeply and exhaling deeply as well. He thinks about everything the games has brought him, fame, fortune and luxury. He also thinks of everything these games have taken from him innocence, youth and sleep.
He lies to himself constantly that he sleeps pleasantly, without nightmares and visions of demons from beyond the grave. But in reality all he sees the death of all his once pure tributes. He had looked after a small girl named Eyre. She was only twelve when she was reaped, her eyes were a caramel shade and her hair fell in golden tresses. When she entered the games she was the first target in the bloodbath and one of the older tributes from district two snapped her neck. Her district partner Tove made it to the last three but was beaten Bale from district four.
Around Indigo's pale wrist he wears the small golden charm bracelet Eyre once wore. He finally pulls himself up from the bed, ruffling his dark brown hair out of his eyes and making sure his bracelet is in place. Eyre is the only tribute he actually cared about.
He goes over to his large closet and begins to feel through all of this soft clothing trying to pick out something suitable for such a great day. In the end he picks out a rather acceptable suit in a beige colour, with matching beige trousers and to finish of the look he wears a navy blue shirt and a grey tie. He shoves his feet into some sensible shoes and he jells his hair up out of his pale face.
He walks through the doors of his bedroom into the living room he has changed about to make it suit his personal preference. The large sofa, covered by large cushions sat in the middle of the room and in front of it the large projector that often showed talent shows, modelling and other such trivial things. Around the room he has many potted plants and books of all colours, shapes and topics. In reality Indigo is a shy man who would much rather read his books than spend time with the over top members of the Capitol.
He goes to the stove, ready to make himself some scrambled eggs but before he does he notices something almost haunting.
The dress Eyre wore in the arena, until this year the tributes would wear their favourite clothes into the arena. The 40th annual games made it compulsory for all to wear life benefiting jump suits.
The worse thing about the pleated sunflower colour dress is the large crimson blood stain down the middle of it, the blood that trickled from her head all the way down to her dress as she died right at the start of the games.
Hands quivering and shaking he picks up the dress and holds it close to his body, remembering all about the little girl he cared about so much. He feels his tears soaking into the dress as he whole body quakes with a broken sensation.
"I failed you Eyre," he whispers.
He finds inside the dress there is a small piece of card with writing upon it, he opens the card and begins to read the printed lettering.
You think this is cold Indigo?
Just wait to see what we have in store for this year's games and your tributes.
Think of crossing us, and we will cut of the life support for your precious little sister Clarity.
You don't think we'd do that?
Try us.
Bonus Willows, President of Panem.
His knees now buckle and he falls to the floor, a sobbing wreck has he clutches the dress the young girl once wore. He just sits there for a while, cursing the games, cursing the President and cursing his weakness that he let them see. You should have been stronger.
He gets up from the floor, his skin stained by his tears of his so called weakness.
Little did Indigo know his weakness is simply called compassion.
He walks out of his house and through the crowded streets of district six, he sees crying parents and shaking children all preparing themselves for the games. All preparing to die.
Indigo makes his way behind the large stage, to meet with the mentor for these young kids. The winner of the 35th Hunger Games stands awkwardly behind the large stage, as he plays with a ruffled white shirt he is wearing. Tele Ways, somehow manged to survive the games with only two kills, how he did this is beyond Indigo's knowledge. Tele is a man almond shaped eyes, deep brown pupils and soft ruffled brown hair. It is known that Tele is of Asian descent, whatever Asia is.
"Hello District Six, are we ready to have a fabulous year? I know I am! So ladies, which one of you lucky bunch gets to spend a whole month with yours truly?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows before shoving his hand into the large bowl of names. When he is satisfied with the piece of paper, he picks it out and unfolds it reading the name aloud. "Opal Storm!"
Before the young girl named Opal can make it to the stage, an older girl barges past her, pushing her out of the way so she can make it onto the stage. Wait is someone from six actually volunteering? This never happens, literally never.
"I am Cyra Belmonte and I will bring honour to our district!" the young girl beams, her light brown eyes glistening as she speaks.
Cyra is a fair-skinned girl, with a taller-than-average height. She possesses a more lean and slender build. Her eyes are light brown and her raven hair is cropped short in an undercut style, with the longer layers sweeping towards her left eye. She wears a cream coloured shirt dress, with the addition of a cropped black blazer and lace-up ankle boots.
Interesting.
"Onto the boys," he says before unfolding the sheet of paper in his hands. "Orion Blake!"
"I volunteer!" a young boy screams.
This boy runs up to the stage and stand there proudly, as if signing up to die is something to be proud of. He has short wavy black hair and dark brown hair along with a fair skin on his body. His face is a bit boxy but the rest of him is rather average. He is dressed simply in a black shirt along with brown trousers. He also wears grey shoes.
"I am Verne Barrett!" he declares beaming at the young women in the crowd.
Indigo watches on in horror as a young woman that resembles Verne breaks down and falls to the floor sobbing and wailing as she watches her son stand on the stage ready to become a murderer. This must be his mother.
"Thank you District Six! Until we meet again," Indigo says with a fake smile plastered upon his face, leading his tributes off the stage and into the Justice Building of this District.
The floor is made of a shining marble, one that reflects the appearances of Indigo and his tributes. Tele follows them through the door shortly afterwards. He looks to the young tributes, who may or may not survive the games.
"I don't do inspirational speeches… Just try your best!" Tele says, as if his words may lift their spirits.
Cyra simply flicks her hair and walk out of the room with a silent confidence. Verne says goodbye quietly before leaving Indigo alone with Tele. They stand there for a moment, their faces puzzled.
"Since when did District Six have volunteers?" Tele asks perplexed.
Indigo just shrugs in response.
Kids these days.
Saffra Yule, District Seven
Saffra breaks the rules, Saffra breaks the rules many, many times in many ways. The rules enforced by Panem mean nothing to her, she doesn't want to be constricted by the rules that mean nothing to her.
She will do anything she wants to, if she wishes to have a romantic entanglement with a mentor, she will. If she wants to openly protest against the games she will. And if she felt like bad mouthing the President, she will.
It is fair to say Saffra gets in trouble a lot with the Capitol but luckily she is a great talker and can lie her way out of any situation and if this doesn't work, she reminds them that she, Saffra Yule is dating Apollo Cornia, Head Gamemaker. This gave her a lot of power in politics and ways of the games. This also meant she could protect a tribute if she cared for them. She had her ways of persuading Apollo and she knew he would always give in to her demands.
People often criticize Saffra, claiming that she doesn't love Apollo and only dates him for the advantages his wealth and power provide him with. But that is not true, she does love Apollo and of course the money he has makes him more attractive but she would still love him if he was a poor man from District Twelve.
So she wakes at the crack of dawn, to find Apollo lying next to her, his face nuzzled into the depths of the pillow and his arm draped around her waist lightly. He had tanned skin, deep blue eyes that twinkled in the dim light of the morning sun. He had short soft sandy brown hair styled so some of it was scrapped to the side. Saffra sighed slightly looking at the beautiful man before her. They had been dating for three years now, it is only a matter of time before he asks me to marry him she thinks to herself.
She curls up beside him, nuzzling her head into the nook between his neck and head. And for a while they just lay there, like that, in perfect silence.
A few moments later she pulls herself from the bed and she hears the very annoyed moaning escaping from the lips of Apollo but she smirks in response. She pins back her medium length black hair, with a strange invention called chop sticks. Apparently chop sticks are part of her Asian ancestry.
Not that anyone in Panem knows what Asia is.
She throws on a pleated yellow dress, with lace around the bodice. She slips a pair of black ballet pumps on and a large chunky golden chain around her neck as well. She is a simple but elegant dresser.
She walks out of her home, only to have her name called from above, she looks up to the large, canopy of leaves from the willow tree. He jumps down from the willowy and thin branches to meet with her. This is Shout Vics, named very accurately so as this young boy doesn't seem to have an inside voice. His skin is a pale shade and his eyes a pale blue hue. His jawline is well defined and his cheeks sculpted by his high cheekbones.
"Hey Saffra, you excited for this year's games then?" he asks cheerily.
"Of all hells I have dreamt of, there is none worse than that of the hunger games," she snaps back.
"So that's a no then," he smirks in response.
Saffra goes to storm off but before she can, Shout has already looped his arm through hers and he walks at her almost lightening pace. It is fair to say she would much rather be snuggling up with her boyfriend then sending young kids to their deaths.
After the usual speech from Bonus Willows and the talk about the importance of the games, Saffra begins to pick which young girl is destined to die.
"Emmy Stevens!"
From the crowd emerges a tall girl with deep green eyes, eye which flicker with fear of the games and all that follow with the child murdering games. Her short brown hair is jelled out of her face and as she moves Saffra notices the way her long black dress shimmers and sparkles. When she reaches the stage, she says nothing and instead she quivers uncontrollably on the spot, Saffra wants to reach out and hug her but she doesn't want to become too attached. Instead she just picks out the male name.
"Jackson Strome!"
Jackson is relatively normal looking, with shaggy blonde hair and warm, chocolate brown eyes. His hair is somewhat long, reaching a bit past his eyes, and a bit on the curly side. Saffra noticed how he teared up as he walked to the stage. Yet, he stood there stoically, lower lip quivering, and his arms crossed, hair falling into his face. Of course she had to have scared tributes, tributes she would want to hug and love but tributes that would die all the same.
"Goodbye and good luck district seven!"
She leads the young people back to the Justice Building, with Shout hot on her heels. She wants to fill them with hope, pride and confidence but instead she shoos them on to say their final goodbyes to their loved ones.
If only I could save both of them
So despite popular opinion I am not in fact dead, I was just busy with life and other such things concerning life.
HAPPY NEW YEAR! Wow, how can it be 2016 already? Where has the time gone? But I hope you had a good celebration and best wishes for the upcoming year ahead.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and soon the reapings will be over so we can start the train journeys and also the training sessions which I am excited to write.
Thank you to all who have followed this story religiously, it means a lot! If you have an OC in this story, especially this chapter, you should be reviewing so I know I wrote their character right. If you don't review I can kill off your OC... Just kidding... Or am I?
Question time!
Who was your favourite escort?
Who was your least favourite?
Favourite mentor?
Least favourite?
Tribute favourite?
Least favourite tribute?
Did you enjoy the chapter?
Until next time Capitolites!
~I've been Jotunheim Storm~
Thanks xoxo