I thought I would treat people to an earlier update this week, as I've been gifted with some amazing tributes and these two are from two particularly brilliant authors, so I don't want to keep them waiting.
I can only hope that I have done justice to these two, they were both incredible submissions with so much detail that I was really worried about not doing them the justice they deserved. Hopefully everyone likes them.
Again, my submissions will be a little erratic, I try to write in the evenings but if I am not in the mood I can't force it otherwise I am not doing justice to the tributes I have been given. When I update I do try to make them quite long so at least you're waiting for a longer chapter as opposed to waiting two weeks for like a thousand words.
As usual, this story will contain strong language, violence, scenes of sexual nature, possible triggers and flashing images.
I hope you enjoy.
Chapter Two
Superiority
Arizel Thymscar
17 years old, Female, District Two
I knew that she was trying to be kind, trying to be supportive in a motherly way. I did appreciate her efforts; I knew how much she wanted to make up for it… But I could never get over the fact that she was the very reason that my real Mother was dead. Whenever I looked at her, the only thought that ran through my mind was that, if she had been paying more attention, maybe the accident would never have happened. I saw the guilt in her eyes; I knew it hurt her too. But at the same time, she swept in so quickly to comfort Father after the accident… She must have known what it would have looked like…
But she did it regardless, and Father fell for it anyway.
My train of thought had distracted me from the important task at hand, arranging my Reaping outfit. Thesrell had picked out a summery dress for me, short, but not in a sultry way, with a lace up back and an almost white colouring that made my light olive skin look much darker than it was. She'd also put out a slate-grey neck-scarf with a pair of low heels. It wasn't what I would have chosen myself, but nor did I want to make such an obvious insult to her. I had been debating the pros and cons for almost half an hour and I really needed to come to a decision.
In the end, as guilty as I felt, I returned the dress to the cupboard neatly. But the second the hook of the hangar clipped against the metal clothes-rail inside, a pang of guilt stabbed me in the gut like a knife. I huffed, before taking the outfit she had chosen back out. Iguessed that it would still look good. At least I didn't have to worry about choosing one myself. I was never great at dressing to impress.
District Two were lucky in the regard that our Reaping had been moved to the evening, rather than early morning, giving everyone time to be leisurely and courteous about it. Of course, people in District Two tended not to worry about the Reaping anyway. Usually people knew in advance who the volunteer tribute was going to be, as selected by the mentors at the academy, and as far as anyone could remember there had never not been a volunteer. It was the strongest candidate, the wisest, and the most likely to bring us another proud victory, it was usually an eighteen year old, but sometimes they chose younger. This year, however, the mentors hadn't selected a girl.
There were only about three eighteen year old girls at my academy for this Reaping, one of them was certainly only there because her parents wanted her to be, good, but was never going to go for the Reaping. Another was only there for the boys, again, good, but had no intention of being good enough to get selected. And the third one simply wasn't very talented; she put in a lot of effort, but she just wasn't up to the standard that she should have been after her years of training. Apparently the same thing went for the other academies in the District as well. It seemed that the year of the 80th Hunger Games hadn't been very popular year to reproduce.
The seventeen year old girls however, my year, had a lot more competition than the year above us. In my academy alone there were thirty four girls competing. The classes got smaller over the years, as people dropped out or were asked to leave, but my year was still one of the biggest. Since there were so many of us, it would have taken too long to arrange the final assessments for two year groups; so instead, they left the girls Reaping open.
It was fine by me, I was happy to wait until next year, finish off my training and have the best chance of success. Not to mention that winning a Quarter Quell was an honour that District Two did not yet hold. Of course, with a glaive in my hands I had a pretty amazing chance at success anyway. Attica on the other hand… She was practically scratching at the walls for a chance to volunteer. She was well suited for the games, cruel, unfeeling, selfish, unemotional, calloused… The down side would be that the Gamemakers would probably be forced to kill her off before long; after all, it wouldn't be right to have an insane girl win.
I smiled to myself, before I took a look in the mirror.
Thesrell hadn't made a bad choice. I actually looked quite good. I smiled and reminded myself to try and thank my Stepmother for the outfit. The finishing touch was my hair, which always took a while. Luckily that had been the first thing I had done when I had started getting ready, assembling it into my 'Reaping updo' which replaced the usual messy bun I would use the rest of the year round.
My updo was a refreshing style in comparison to my Sisters. Attica would forever have her hair down, her thick wavy locks always hitting the middle of her back, whilst Azalea just copied her. I needed something to set myself apart from the bitch and her minion. Other than the fact that I was the triplet that people respected. The one that people liked. Outside of bed at least…
Thinking of my two siblings made me want to stay in my room until they left the house, but much to my displeasure, I didn't have the time to do that.
I had one more person to see.
I stepped into my shoes and walked into the hallway, shutting my bedroom door behind me and locking it aggressively. I didn't trust Attica not to be pathetic and juvenile. Especially considering how desperate she was to volunteer. There were many far more worthy candidates in our District and she would never get the spot. She would be in a foul mood when she got home, and I was the closest one to take it out on.
As I climbed down the stairs and glanced into the kitchen, I saw the pair of them both disrespectfully eating the food that Thesrell had prepared for the Reaping celebrations that evening, Attica with that typical analytical expression on her face, looking at the food like she was victimising it. She was dressed like a harlot, with a short grey skirt, a thin leather belt and an almost sheer blouse; I didn't know who she thought she was; she looked like she should be stood outside of a brothel in District Six. We all heard the rumours about what that place was like.
Azalea wasn't quite as bad, with her skirt coming to at least her mid-thigh, though she was also wearing stockings underneath. However her cold stare was the thing that caused my problems, flicking over to the front door just as I was preparing to open it, catching me in her snare-like vision. Her blank face flinched into a scowl.
"Don't you look, pathetic." Attica's sharp voice called out just as I was reaching for the door handle, making me sigh with irritation. I had hoped to get out without dealing with them. Attica was usually so self-involved and Azalea was usually so quiet that between the two of them they didn't notice much else. Azalea didn't make any comments, but she pulled a twisted smirk that agreed with her sibling.
"Don't you look like someone the Mayor would rent by-the-hour." I scoffed in return, keeping my hand poised on the doorknob in preparation for her to fly into one of her rages. I didn't want to have to deal with her drama right now.
She was most likely dressed like the harlot she was, to try and impress the male tribute, if she were to get the chance to volunteer. Our full, peachy lips and smooth cheeks had gotten all three of us some attention over the years, but I had never stooped to her level. She often wore minimal clothes to the academy, trying to make herself more noticeable. She got more attention than I did.
But then I never tried.
She tried to pine for the boys older than us, which is most likely what she was doing wearing her skimpy outfit on Reaping day. Even though there weren't that many of them in my academy, were all pretty ferocious; it was smart to try and catch one in a honey-trap if she was planning to volunteer. Smart for her at least. Each of the academies had their own assessments, the winner of which then went off to the final evaluation. But I knew who went to the final from our academy.
He was somewhat of a maverick, always going against what the trainers told him to do and deliberately aggravating people for some sort of kick. He could go from being stoically silent and moody in the corner of the room, to the centre of attention in a heartbeat. I had spoken with him a few times; he was a brute. But a brute who could look at me with his near-grey eyes and somehow make me blush. I think he knew it; it was a power trip and nothing else.
I still rooted for him though. He broke conventions and went against most of what the trainers said. But he was still one of the best competitors I had ever seen from my academy. Attica had never taken much notice of him; knowing her it was because she thought he was cowardly by using a ranged weapon. In all the games we watched, the District Two males always used close combat as their preferred choice. A bow, by comparison, seemed feeble.
But I had seen him hit a target in the head one hundred times.
Nobody had been so skilled with a bow since the 74th Hunger Games. I sneered a little. An outlier won the games, a moody girl from District Twelve who wreaked havoc in the arena. I had heard a rumour she had gone a little mad; she killed her District Partner when she dropped a nest of tracker jackers where he was sleeping, despite apparent romantic confessions from him. She struggled alone through the arena for a while, luckily avoiding the boy from my District when he spotted the girl from Eleven running from the scene.
In the end, Twelve skulked and hunted through the arena, killing all of the remaining threats with the skill of a formidable huntress. They played footage from those games almost every year. I tried to hate her, but I had to accept her skill. After all, she had killed a quarter of the tributes herself. I could begrudgingly accept it, but Attica never could.
"Why don't you come here and say that to me again, Sis'?" The girl in question seethed, standing up and digging her fingers into the lacquered wood of the table with a ruthless scowl on her face. I huffed out a breath in response; she was in one of her moods. Nerves from the Reaping, I expected.
"I'd love to, but I'm the only one in this family who seems to pay any respect to our Mother…" I retorted with a blank expression, pulling a bunch of flowers out of one of Thesrell's vases and marching out of the door without another word. It was only after I had slammed it shut and walked half way down the drive, that I realised I hadn't finished my sentence, but I shrugged it off.
Visiting Mother was more important on Reaping day.
I put on a watery smile, before walking in the direction of the graveyard.
Quirinius Crayton
18 years old, Male, District Two
"You don't think that you'd fancy… Y'know, getting ready?" Saturn asked again, the fifth time that he had asked me in the last ten minutes. The fifth different way he had asked, in the last ten minutes. Different wording, inflection, emphasis… He was nothing if not persistent. That and irritating.
Unfortunately, neither of his key qualities were helping my concentration.
Having dozens of other potential volunteers in the room was one thing. Their collective chatter, shouting, grunting and arguing droned up into a crescendo of white noise that I could block out as one existential mass. However when it was just Saturn with his infuriating, apparent pre-pubescent, high pitched, 'my balls haven't dropped even though I'm eighteen', voice… It was so much more infuriating.
Once I had made it clear that I was ignoring him, with a soft turn of my head and a lazy glare, I tightened my arm once again. The bowstring was biting my fingers with its tautness; the metallic arms bent enough to really require all of the force from my muscles. My teeth were gritted, my eyes tightened, my arms trembling… I was a breath away from sending the arrow deep into the swinging training dummy, my line of sight perfectly lined up against the mannequins featureless face. I breathed…
"I was gonna wear…"
I released with my breath, the arrow soaring through the air with a piercing drone, thudding into the shoulder of the grey mannequin and making it flail about manically on the chain it was attached to. The irritating rattling of the chain however was nothing when compared to Saturn's voice cutting through my ears like a screeching Mutt in a poorly designed arena. I threw the bow to the floor with a violent clatter in fury.
"I don't give a fuck what you're wearing you mongrel!" I snapped at him, swinging around and levelling him down with my shadow blue eyes and a snarl on my lips. "You made me fucking miss!" He looked pretty blank at my words. He was used to it by now; I wasn't bound by the societal etiquette that most of the District stuck by. If someone acted like an idiot I'd call them one and that would be that.
"I'm sorry…" He muttered satirically. "Remember to ask the other tributes to keep quiet when you're shooting at them too."
"They won't be going on about their fucking clothes though!" I snapped back, gritting my teeth again in the waste of my final arrow. It would be the last one I would shoot until I got to the Capitol, and because of Saturn it wasn't even in the head. I had hit that same mannequin square in the face half a dozen times in a row and because of one squeaky boy, I broke that record. "Fucking idiot…"
I moved passed him moodily, feeling too lazy to be dramatic and angry about it, and making a move back to the entrance to the Academy training Centre that I had been walking through five days a week at least, for the past ten years. No more. I didn't need to train again, not here. It was the Capitol next.
"I'm happy to take your place if you've lost confidence."
My laugh was booming in the deserted entrance hall, it echoed from the high ceilings and back down again. He gave me a flat little glare from his honey coloured eyes, but I just shook my head in amusement. He could never take my place. There were probably twelve year olds at the Academy who could beat him in a fight. And he had been going to the muscle work sessions that I had been skipping over the years. Pathetic.
"You didn't even make it through the sparring." I reminded him, making him turn his head away slightly with a thoroughly irritated expression on his face. It had been embarrassing. He had been paired with the guy from the Academy who was useless, the one who had rich parents who coddled and babied him and told him how talented he was on every day that parents visited to watch training. He couldn't say boo to a goose. Yet somehow he managed to not only punch Saturn square in the nose, but to completely overpower him and knock him on his arse.
Saturn was removed from consideration after that.
"Fighting's not my thing." He grunted with irritation, storming past and towards the exit with heavy-footed steps. "If I'd been born in Three I'd be crushing guys like you." He returned, making me let out a booming laugh once again.
"Kid you exist for guys like me."
"Well, I'll remember how little you think of me next time you need a lock picked." He returned with his back to me, with this frightful little tremble at the end of his sentence like an offended little girl.
"There won't be a next time." I told him forcefully, but he was out of the door without even bothering with a reply.
Pussy.
Saturn, like most other people, were far too easily hurt. They were just fucking words. I hadn't hit him, hell I hadn't so much as flicked him, yet he was acting like I had shot him through the kneecap with a barbed tipped arrow. It wasn't the first argument I had had with him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He usually worked out how much of a wimp he was being and came back soon enough.
I wished he was more like Glacia. She was good at training, hell she could have easily got the girl's spot if she had tried. But she didn't want to be in the games, and always underperformed in the final assessments just enough to stop her from reaching the top spots. But she had a family to support and they didn't earn much working the quarry, so she knew she needed to get a job and help them. I guess I respected that.
She joined the Academy to have fun and to get some guys. She knew what she wanted and took it. Personally I thought she should have forgotten about what her family wanted and just gone for it, but I could sort of understand where she was coming from.
But I certainly didn't agree.
My family where the opposite, they always tried to steer me in the direction that they wanted. All they went on about for years were manners and behaviour and do's and don'ts and I got tired with it. It took them years to work out that I didn't care, and that I'd eat my food with my hands and I'd bite my nails and I'd run in the kitchen if I damn well wanted to. They got it eventually.
They were so bloody relieved when I said that I wanted to join the Academy. But then of course, after a few terms there, when I had settled down on using the bow, they were mortified. Suddenly for my birthday they bought me an expensive training spear to 'encourage' me to use it, and when we sat down as a family and watched past seasons of the Hunger Games over dinner, they would always compliment the strong District Two males using spears and javelins to murder their competition.
Eventually, they stopped pressuring me. And I got good, quick. I 'opted out' of most of the strength building and muscle development to practice with the bow instead; most of the Games I had watched has seen a more muscular and powerful tribute get overwhelmed by a smaller and faster opponent. After all, it didn't matter how muscular you were, all it took was one speedy thrust with a knife and you were done. The trainers tried to complain to my Parents, but by that point they were just happy I was training at all.
And then, on my assessment day, I proved my knowledge right in the sparring, and by this point I didn't miss a target; I usually got them right in the face.
I saw some of them gritting their teeth when I was announced as the volunteer for the 99th Hunger Games. The fame and fortune and glory falling into my lap as it rightfully should have. Having said that, even if they'd have picked someone else, all that mattered was who got to the stage first. The trainers, Escort, the Mayor, they were just advisors really, what they said didn't actually matter.
But the Reaping claxon, on the other hand, did matter.
It went off as I was walking away from the academy; about five minutes after Saturn had run away like a girl. I felt the tiniest fleck of guilt after that. But I dismissed it quickly.
Saturn was the sort of guy who came from the sort of family who absolutely had to dress up for the Reaping. He had been dressed semi smart when I had persuaded him to pick the lock on the Academy door for me and he had still been in the same outfit when he left. It was smarter than what I would be wearing. Yet of course he had to be wearing his absolute best. He cared about fashion more than most girls. He got very excited about the Reaping to see what the Escort would be wearing.
I did wonder about him sometimes…
I had no such concerns. I was wearing a sleeveless vest that showed up the muscularity in my arms well, with a pair of close fitting trousers that I had only kept because they accented my crotch pretty well.
I didn't bother with dressing fancy and smart; the Capitol got enough of that from District One every year. When they saw me for the first time, swaggering onto the stage with all of my confidence, they were going to be seeing me. Not some force-smiled illusion that had been dressed up by his parents in his finery that he wore once a year, with an extra special speech prepared and a well quiffed head of hair. They would see a confident man, wearing clothes he had trained in, his lean muscles still glistening with sweat, his short undercut hair swept to one side of his head in convenience and nothing else.
That is the man the Capitol would see when I volunteered.
As usual, the queues were ridiculously long to get into the central square of the District. But nobody really cared when I pushed in front of them. The older volunteers got respect, and although people didn't all know who the volunteer that year would be, they all knew there had been one chosen. As such, they liked to make sure everyone older than themselves got better treatment.
After all, if I was mentoring one of these brats in a few years-time and they had kicked up a fuss about me cutting in, they wouldn't be getting far in their arena.
The sour-faced woman pricked my finger and took a blood sample, before I walked passed the line of Peacekeepers and into the walled-off square. It was walled off, because three of the four sides of the square had tiered seating, like an amphitheatre. A stadium. When I watched the Reapings in Twelve and Nine I always found it laughable that they had so few people huddled in their little town squares, even with all of their families coming to watch too. The entire population of Twelve and Nine would have fit in our town square with room to spare. We filled it to capacity and there was always a lot of pushing and shoving from the standing section. Our families watched from big projections outside or at home.
The sheer size of our District demonstrated our superiority. My superiority.
As the area filled up, the stands getting swarmed by twelve, thirteen, fourteen and fifteen year olds, whilst sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year olds stood, with the eighteen year olds closest to the stage, I felt a swell of pride. I had beaten out everybody else in the stadium. I had been chosen above them all to be the Volunteer. That thought kept me blissfully in thought as the Mayor began his usual speech, talking about why the war started, which I never quite understood, and where we had come from, which I had never bothered to understand. I couldn't care. It had happened. It was done.
I looked to the future.
The Escort was next, as usual. Cordelia was dressed extravagantly once again, with a long bloom of blue material bursting out of her waistband and spanning the entire length of the mayor's stage leading into the building behind her, the doors of which were forced to remain open because of the length. I was sure Saturn would be giddy with excitement, but I started to limber up. It wasn't unheard of here for people to get violent. It usually only happened if a tribute wasn't chosen, like with the girls this year, but I wasn't taking any chances…
"We will begin, as always…" She haughtily explained to us, after emotionally recovering from the video we got every year, a long dwindling piece about war and Panem that I hadn't paid attention to once. "With the women."
Her fingers swept the glass bowl containing all the names of the girls in the District, hovering like a bird of prey above its meal. The girls' names were more important than ever, without a selected volunteer, and from my memory, a fairly meagre pool of eighteen year olds to choose from, it could be interesting. Hell, there was always a chance there wouldn't be a volunteer. It was a Quell next year so a lot of the seventeen year olds would be saving themselves for that.
I gritted my teeth.
If I got stuck with a twelve year old I'd throw them off of the train.
"Arizel Thymscar!"
My ears perked up, my head turning to the seventeen year old section in apprehension and amusement. I knew the Thymscar triplets. Everyone did. Especially any straight guy. After all, it was three identical girls who were all pretty damn hot. It was practically a fantasy come to life, apart from the fact that two of them were infamous for being utter bitches and the third was the most non-sexual person I'd ever met. I could never tell them apart. To me they were 'Loud', 'Quiet' and 'Bun'. Bun was the non-sexual one, but I noticed that if I stared at her for long enough, she'd start blushing.
It happened every time, like clockwork.
And sure enough, Bun was the one who walked out from the bunch of Seventeen year olds, walking to the stage pretty confidently for someone Reaped. She looked like a Mother, dressed how she was, with a white-ish dress and a grey scarf that made her look like she should have been taking blood outside of the arena.
For a moment, I was wondering whether my Quell hypothesis had been correct, that Bun, Arizel, would be my District partner. But then, as she was climbing the steps, my doubts were removed.
"I volunteer!"
The voice was smug and somewhat irritating. I turned to see and I froze, just like Arizel had done.
It was Loud. Her Sister.
Arizel Thymscar
17 years old, Female, District Two
I was stood uncomfortably, my body trembling from a number of factors: the anticipation of being Reaped, the strain of holding the position half way through climbing a staircase and the sight of Attica stood in the aisle, staring at me with her disgustingly evil grin.
I had to make a quick decision.
I had rationalised myself by this point. I was more than capable to go into the arena and fight, my weapon skills were top class and I knew enough about survival to not need to worry. Even missing the Quell had advantages; the lack of interest in this game meant the competition would be fierce, not to mention that the Quells were usually considerably harder.
The 25th wasn't so bad, it decreed that the Districts had to select the Volunteer, a practice we had continued to use.
But the 50th had used double the number of tributes and the arena had been deadly, it was chaotic and the bloodshed was extreme. An outlier had one those games, Twelve at that. It just showed that in some circumstances even the outliers had a good chance to win. The 75th had been one of the worst, apparently there had been some growing unrest in some of the Districts, and as such, 'to represent the cost of war on the innocent' if a tribute died in the arena, their immediate family were executed. Even in my view, it had been extreme.
Yet, since then, that President had passed away, and the new one was more generous with the Districts. At least that was the rumour. I grimaced again, watching Attica slowly walk towards me. The Quell rules had been written years ago, the same person who wrote that 'families would be executed' had written whatever would be occurring next year. I had to make a decision quickly.
I also had to wipe that grin off of my Sister's face.
"I reject her volunteering." I said, to the Escort first, who looked a little dazzled by my comment. It hadn't been done before. I quickly walked up the rest of the steps and got to the microphone in the centre of the stage. "I reject my volunteer!" I called out, watching the crowd begin to murmur as my Sister slowed down, her face twisting into a scowl of fury.
"Oh I…" Cordelia struggled, looking around for help on the matter. "Mayor?"
No.
I was not going to let Attica get into the arena. Not over me. It would have cemented every time she called me a name, every time she threatened me, pulled my hair, tripped me up, broke my belongings, insulted me in public, humiliated me… I would not let her win this too.
I was panicking when I walked over to the bowl with the boys names, putting my hand in a plucking one out at random, before walking back over to Cordelia and tried to put it into her hands. I knew that once the boy had been read, the girl was cemented, that was how it worked. That was what needed to happen.
"Now just wait a moment dear…" She shushed me, instead focusing on the Mayor and trying to find an answer from him. Attica by now was only a few steps from the stairs and judging from her face it would get violent. I didn't care about that. But there was no way I would be letting her take my place.
That morning I hadn't even wanted it. Yet when I got face to face with how much I would lose if Attica was the tribute, let alone if she somehow won. My life wouldn't be worth living. She was older than me by a few seconds and she had used that as an excuse to boss me around all my life. Not this time.
Somehow I wasn't even thinking that I could probably have been avoxed for what I was about to do.
No.
The Capitol liked spunky tributes.
"Leo Var…" I read into the microphone, ripping open the paper slip in my hands as I trembled so much from the adrenaline that I threatened to throw the slip into the crowd.
"My goodness, what do you…?" Cordelia chimed from somewhere behind me, but not before a male voice from the front row boomed.
"I volunteer!"
He wasn't that tall compared to some of the boys, taller than some but not remarkably so. He was leaner than the others as well, his sleeveless top showing off his toned arms as he swaggered out and overtook Attica with his amused expression. I half scowled and half smiled, before I realised what I had done.
I had been so hung up on not letting Attica compete, that I had just thrown myself into the arena without much thought. And of course, my District partner was the man whom made me blush when he looked at me in the Academy, the one who was pretty efficient at landing arrows in a mannequin's face. He was the one I would be competing against at some point. I would have to kill him to win.
But when I glanced back to Attica, everything was okay.
The girl was actually crying with rage.
I was more than ready to win, to come back to her crying little face.
That was more motivation than I could have ever hoped to achieve.
Quirinius Crayton
18 years old, Male, District Two
I was amused beyond belief about the Reaping. There hadn't been such an eventful one since the year that two boys had gotten into a fist fight and the Escort had ended up falling off of the stage.
I was impressed with Bun's spunk. I wouldn't have expected her to have it in her.
My parents had been the first ones to say goodbye, wishing me the best of luck and talking about how much honour and pride I would bring to the family if I won. My Father was a little too familiar for my liking, we weren't close. But I let my Mother have her hug before she got on her way. They were a couple of few words and it was almost awkward in the room once they had said all they needed to say. We had an understanding where I respected them enough to listen to them, if they gave me my space. It didn't leave much room for affection. It was almost nice when they left.
My brother had been the next one in, telling me to be careful and to remember to think. I told him how boring he was but we both knew I was teasing him. He gave me a big hug that reminded me of how it felt to be a kid again. I always went to him to complain about the rules and he largely ignored me. He was the sensible one with focus and ambition. He didn't volunteer in the end; he dropped out to take a job with an explosives expert and was doing well for himself. Our goodbye was somewhat disrupted by some thudding next door, but we did our best to simply ignore it. I loved my big Brother more than I cared to admit.
Glacia and Saturn had to share, and I was almost surprised that the latter turned up at all. He was moody in the corner whilst Glacia told me how good I would be, but I coaxed him into the conversation when I sarcastically mentioned how 'fabulous' Cordelia's dress had been. Glacia gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek, whilst I held out my hand to Saturn, who just hugged me instead.
"Please come back…" Were the last words that I got to hear from anybody, before they were both taken out of the room, leaving me alone with the camera in the corner and a sudden bittersweet feeling. I knew I could win, that much was obvious. But it would be such a change in my life for when I returned, I would be a Victor and I would have all the fame and riches that I wanted. But I'd be expected to settle down and have a family… Did I want that?
I was sat on my own for a little too long, before Cordelia came and got me, knocking on my door politely and looking pretty pleased with herself considering what a catastrophe the Reaping had been. A tribute had lead the Reaping. But then again, it would probably be all the Capitol would talk about for weeks and the attention might look good for her. I personally didn't see how it could possibly look good for her, but then I didn't understand the Capitol's trends much myself. They seemed to get in a fix over the smallest thing and bring it up year after year after year on the television. It was a nightmare to keep track.
"Arizel?" Cordelia asked for the third time, knocking on the door to her room softly, calling against the wood like a Mother trying to coax out a small child with sweets. "Dear we can't be late for the train…" Of course, when she looked away from the door, her demeanour changed completely; as if Arizel wouldn't have a hope of hearing her if she turned the other way. "This is ridiculous!"
"Sorry…" Arizel said somewhat snidely as she opened the door to her room, just as the Escort complained. "I didn't mean to waste so much time…" She continued, making me zone out as I focused in on her. I was a little annoyed that she had taken her bun out. I liked calling her Bun, it was cute and I was damn sure she would have blushed like hell from it. Not that I wanted some epic TV romance from her, just a few seeds of my superiority planted in her head would have sufficed.
Still, she blushed hard every time I looked at her.
So that would still be an easy way to get my kicks…
Arizel Thymscar
17 years old, Female, District Two
"You have five minutes." The Peacekeeper said, as I turned around to see who would be visiting me. I sighed to myself with irritation. Attica and Azalea.
I was surprised that the pair bothered to see off the Sister they so hated. I'm sure Attica would shout and scream so much that the Peacekeeper would be dragging her out by the scruff of her sheer blouse before long. She'd already taken off her stupid cord belt. I grimaced at the thought of why she would have had to take that off. Maybe she stripteased the Mayor to try and get my spot as tribute…
My insult seemed quite on the mark after all.
Azalea sat down on the arm of the corner chair without a word, sitting right in front of the camera that had been my only company for the past half an hour. Whilst Attica came up to me with a deep breath, seeming exceedingly calm given the circumstances. I was baffled by her sudden change in character.
"You know how much I want to be the tribute…" She almost sobbed, laughably pathetic in her current situation. "You didn't even want it…"
"Look, Attica." I cut in assertively. "I wasn't going to let you take my place. Yeah I know how much you wanted it but tough luck." I told her. "I got it, I'm the tribute and if you really want it so bad, you can take my sloppy seconds next year at the Quell. If you're good enough." I added with a scoff.
"You cheated." She scowled, which was the most like her usual character that she allowed herself to get, yet she composed herself very quickly, considering what she must have been feeling. "But it doesn't matter either way. I will not let you take my glory. Take my place. Everything that I have spent my whole life working for…" She got worked up again, but managed to bring herself back down. "I have no other choice…"
"No, you don't have any other choice." I agreed with her angrily. She was being weird and out of character and I wanted her to go. I cursed that we got longer than the other Districts did. Apparently most only got three minutes per goodbye. I had to put up with five. "You will let me take 'your' glory because you cannot get it. It is my glory, sweetheart. It always was and it always will be." I paused angrily, turning away with a scowl. "Now who's being pathetic?"
I looked out the window angrily; content to give them the literal cold shoulder until they were asked to leave. I looked down at the Mayor's gardens and the beautiful home and pictured my house in Victors' Village. I would make sure it had a beautiful garden. Mother always liked gardening, she had taken such good care of the few flower arrangements we were able to fit in our window boxes. I would do her proud with a proper lawn.
I'd almost lost myself in thought, when I felt a sudden movement behind me and was whipped with a tight sharpness digging into my neck, yanking me backwards violently into Attica, losing my footing and falling slack, struggling to scramble back to my feet in my heels. The pressure of whatever was digging into my throat was growing immensely as my hands scrambled up to try and get it off, trying to slip my fingers in between it and my skin to prise it loose. It was her fucking belt.
I gasped for air, but I couldn't get anything into my lungs, I couldn't even manage a scream or even a wheeze. All I had was silent gasping as I limply clawed at the cord belt around my throat, crushing my windpipe and making my lungs burn. I kicked my legs out as violently as I could manage; hitting the floor and a chair, but it did me no good.
I tried to flail back, claw at Attica's face, but I could barely lift my arms anymore. I slopped backwards and she yanked her hand holding the belt and I almost doubled over, bending my back at an unbearable angle, my legs giving way as I ended up half-sprawled on the floor and looking up at her.
She was going to kill me…
I tried desperately to gasp, to beg her to stop, she could have the Games if she wanted, I didn't care, not this much. My ears were throbbing with the sound of blood and my chest felt as though it was going to explode from the pain. The feeling of pressure just behind my eyes was excruciating as my vision became blurred and black, tears slipping over my eyelids and down my face.
My own Sister…
Killing me to get a chance to die.
I tried to focus on her, my head moving desperately as her blurred figure slowly faded from view. Fading into a deep pit of darkness with nothing else.
Nobody would put flowers on my grave.
I would just die, forgotten or a scandal.
The first tribute to die before leaving the District.
Mother would have been so ashamed…
Attica Thymscar
17 years old, Female, District Two
Her body was still, lifeless, heavy.
I kept the hold on my belt as long as I could, knowing that she might just be unconscious for now. Azalea had been talking through the entire ordeal, saying good luck and we loved her, as we had discussed, to keep the camera fooled. The bitch had stolen my spot.
I was just taking it back.
I kept an eye on the clock; I wagered that two and a half minutes would have been enough to have killed her. I released the loop on the belt and let her body flop to the floor like a sack of potatoes, quickly getting to work on undressing myself. I had to change into her clothes in less than a minute to be safe. I cursed at her choice of dress, a lace up back that was terribly difficult to undo, especially with the adrenaline pumping through my veins. In the end I decided on pulling it off of her as quickly as I could and trying not to worry when I heard the sound of fabric ripping.
It felt ridiculous as I put it on; I felt like some naïve little orphan from District Eleven. The low high heels were actually easier to walk in than my own, and as I pulled the scarf tight around my neck, I felt a little uneasy. My clothes were easy to shove onto her body, she was heavy limbed now and it would have been very difficult to have put anything on her that was more complicated, but I managed.
I pulled the pins and grips out of her hair as fast as I could, before I frantically looked at the clock, seeing we had almost no time left, then signalled to Azalea to begin the next part of the plan.
When my pathetic excuse for a Sister stole my place, I knew I would get it back no matter what. Azalea and I formed the plan together, to block the camera and kill the bitch. We'd then pretend she had fainted, and Azalea would leave supporting her, dressed as me. Then, once I was on the train, Azalea would throw her out of my bedroom window, making it look like 'I' had killed myself out of frustration. The plan was perfect.
We proceeded like clockwork, making sure her hair was covering her face when we called my name, both of us supporting her as the Peacekeepers entered to tell us it was time to go. Azalea supported her as she helped to carry her out, and the Peacekeepers thought nothing of it. I had been irate at the Reaping so I guessed it wasn't a surprise that 'I' had passed out.
Then Father and Thesrell came in as the adrenaline was still pumping. I couldn't bear to stand still as Thesrell started swooning and complimenting me on how good the dress she had picked out looked on me, how lovely I was and how happy she was that 'Attica' wasn't competing in the Games. I had to grit my teeth and force a smile as she said her scathing words. Father was a little scornful, but not enough to show that he really cared that 'I' had stolen 'Attica's' place.
He couldn't even tell us apart. I was counting on that.
They left, not long after, early. They had gotten the hint that I wanted some space and they gave it to me. My pacing slowed to a stop and I stood quietly in the centre of the room, the glazed wooden slats of the floor baring the full scrutiny of my gaze. Exactly where I had killed my Sister.
She had deserved it, I was first born and I deserved to be respected. Arizel had never respected me, she always undermined me and ignored me and I hated her for that. Everyone liked her, they thought she was the 'sweet' one and the 'nice' one and I couldn't stand it. I wanted people to respect me, and they never would if she was there, with her stupid bun hairstyle and her stupid demure expressions.
She made me sick.
There was a knocking on the door, before my Sister's name was called… My name.
I had to get used to it. For all intents and purposes, I was Arizel now. Nobody would call me Attica again. Nobody could.
But I would know. And the glory I got would be mine. Mine alone. Maybe I would get my name changed in 'honour of my dead Sister' when I won the games. Then I could live as Attica again and Arizel would slowly fade out of existence…
"Arizel…" Yes, that was me now. . "Dear we can't be late for the train…" I scoffed, taking a deep breath and slowly walking over to the door, trying not to look too full of adrenaline as I reached out for the brass handle.
When I turned the handle I would no longer be Attica Thymscar. I would be Arizel Thymscar.
She wasn't friends with my District partner, so it wouldn't be hard to fool him. And all of the other tributes didn't know who I was.
I would be fine.
And I would win.
Quirinius Crayton
18 years old, Male, District Two
She was different to how I would have thought… Not only did she not have her bun anymore. But she wasn't blushing. I didn't think it could be some newfound confidence that had suddenly emerged, some loss of innocence that made her pull a flirtatious little smile when she caught me staring at her, her almost grey eyes laced with innuendo and suggestion. Even when we had shook hands on stage she had blushed at me like a thirteen year old looking at me topless.
Something had happened to make her much more confident.
I took a deep breath and turned, staring out of the window into the dark streets as the car headed towards the train station.
I was going to find out what that was. The bitch wasn't going to get the better of me.
That's for sure.
In Memoriam:
Invidius Glasswhistle- Killed by: Lucretia Cachexia
Having a thin high heel embedded through his eye
Arizel Thymscar- Killed by: Attica Thymscar
Strangled with a cord belt and thrown out of a building in a staged suicide
So my second reaping, thank you very much to the submitters for these two tributes and I hope you felt that I have done them justice. There is a little more for Arizel and Attica but because of the nature of their story twist, I had to.
Now, what did you think about the twist there?
Attica?
Arizel?
Quirinius?
Do you think Quirinius will find out what has happened?
The review box is below...
Now, cue Panem Anthem:
I have had a submission for every available space left, and they are all being considered currently. Unfortunately we are at the point where the majority of tributes have been filled and I am going to be reluctant to accept tributes who are too similar to what I have already got.
Please don't be disheartened if you've not gotten in yet, there's more slots to go and I'm not in a rush for them. (Apart from the D4M) At this point, you should also be considering submitting a backup district as I may juggle people around to create dynamics with district partners... And if you are submitting two tributes, I am taking longer to decide on these to give everyone a fair shot. The only two authors who have submitted two tributes were both exceptional. (And both in this chapter...)
District Details
District One: Luxury: Population 24,315
Female: Giada Beauchamp- 18
DamBaudelaires
Male: Narce Valentine- 18
District7axemurder
District Two: Masonry: Population 231,254
Female: Attica Thymscar- 17
One True Victor
Male: Quirinius Crayton- 18
Josephm611
District Three: Electronics: Population 195,329
Female: Ashni Ayres- 15
Taylor1103
Male: Kinnick Holtz- 16
AKLNxStories
District Four: Fishing: Population 111,453
Female: Koral Shelly- 17
Misfit-right-in
Male:
District Five: Power: Population 134,345
Female: Gwynyth Wattson- 17
LiveFreeOrDie
Male: Brites Steinla- 16
later . glader
District Six: Transport: Population 784,453
Female: Lowelle Sable- 17
LordShiro
Male: Padget Geare- 17
Goldie031
District Seven: Lumber: Population 26,354
Female: Juniper Alameda- 18
TheDancerSG
Male: Javor Acton- 1
Josephm611
District Eight: Textiles: 122,134
Female: Eloise Falcon- 17
Atherva
Male: Stark Conwell- 17
OneTrueVictor
District Nine: Grain: Population 15,346
Female:
Male:
District Ten: Livestock: Population 19,234
Female:
Male: Haidyn Rivendell- 18
Goldenmoonhuntress
District Eleven: Agriculture: Population 138,546
Female:
Male: Saffron Stride- 16
ThePocketwatchRipper
District Twelve: Coal: Population 7,935
Female: Celine Dust-18
Nordic Nonsense
Male:
