"I get it; you apologized. Now, can we please move on?"
Roland Blackstone, 18
District 2 Tribute
Smoothing out his hair in the mirror, Roland prepared himself for the upcoming social. The Volunteer spot for males was his already; hence, his family had hosted a huge party in his honor. He made sure his tuxedo was crisp and his tie was impeccably straight; making a bad impression on anyone had consequences.
"Hey, that tuxedo will look better with a bow tie."
Using the reflection of the mirror, Roland eyed his younger brother, Remus. Perhaps. He remained silent, acknowledging his presence with a head nod, and picked a red bow tie to go with his black tuxedo. Fitting it correctly, he examined himself and nodded an affirmation.
"Thank you, Remus." He hated throwing away words in private situations like these, preferring deep thoughts, especially with his younger brother, but his mother had raised him to become a polite boy, and habits like those weren't easily forgotten.
"Yeah, no problem."
They stood in comfortable silence for who knows how long, Roland busying himself with gelling his hair.
"Roland! It's time to greet the first guests; they're starting to arrive!" A shrill shout pierced through the peace and he recognized it instantly as his mother's voice.
He nodded towards his brother in an unspoken gesture that he was about to leave the room, which Remus returned, and Roland descended the stairs, pasting a smile on his face for the guests.
"Good afternoon, Mother."
"Good afternoon to you as well," she replied. "It's exactly two o' clock; that's the time I put on the invitations. We have four hours before the Reaping at six o' clock."
He nodded gravely at her words in response.
Ding!
"I've got it!" he answered when the doorbell rang. The first guests—wonder who they'll be. His expression went from stoic to a bright smile prepared to welcome and receive.
Opening the door, his originally faked smile turned genuine as he saw Alexis, Matt, and Styx, his best friends, standing there together. "Good afternoon, and welcome to the Blackstone household."
As his mother left with an I'll-leave-you-alone-with-your-friends expression, he relaxed and dropped the formalities. To anyone else, he wouldn't have changed anything, but they were his best friends, and he didn't worry about having to present his "best self" to them. "Hi everyone, nice to see you again."
A chorus of "you too"s rose up from his three best friends.
"Congratulations on the Volunteer spot, Roland—you must have put so much work into it," Styx said.
I have, indeed. "Thank you for your compliment, Styx, but I must say, getting the spot is one thing, Victory is another."
"Still, with your dedication and patience, I'm sure you'll be back soon."
"Aw, thanks," he replied, unsure of what else to say that didn't involve the fact that he had to do the immoral act of killing children.
Thankfully, the doorbell rang again; it almost never got awkward with his friends, but he didn't want to upset them with throwaway comments like the ones he used for the regular public.
More people filtered through the door and into the large dining hall, who he all greeted with the same brightness and patience he had with people. As the guests stopped coming in at last, his parents offered a toast and the party began.
Songs were played, and people went throughout the hall, some dancing, some chatting, Roland flitting from group to group with small talk, engaging everyone in conversation.
"Hey, Roland, you've been skippin' us?" He heard a lighthearted tone coming from the center of the room, slightly left of where he was.
"Valerie, sis!" Roland recognized the voice and purposefully walked over to her group. "And nope, I've just been rotating around the room, and y'all are in the center, so it's obviously going to take more time to get to here, ya know? And hey Diana, hey Minerva."
They all stopped their chatting to look at him. "So, how are you all?"
"We're great," Valerie spoke for the group. "Just talkin' a little bit about the politics nowadays, the Capitol and the Games, with your volunteering so soon."
"You all gossiping about me?" he joked.
Diana, his other big sister, looked shocked. "No, we'd never, Roland! We didn't mean it like that, it just came up, with it being your party and all."
"Come on, it was just a joke, lighten up..." he tried, to no avail. Changing the subject and keeping his blunder in mind for later advice, he replied after a brief silence, "So, what do you all think? Like, about the Capitol and stuff?"
Said Minerva, politically correct to a fault, "The Capitol is doing a brilliant job of running Panem with a firm hand and intolerance towards rebellion, especially in the ratty outer districts."
"Yeah, some outer districts have, in fact, worked their way into this. Panem is a brilliant nation dedicated to helping the able and hard-working to achieve their dreams; however, some people just don't work hard enough, unfortunately. But you work amazingly hard, of course," Diana, Minerva's twin, said. "I admire your persistence and effort. And as Father says, 'The diligent and determined will be the ones rewarded.'"
"I don't really have any political beliefs; that's why I wanted to hear y'all's," Valerie said. "How about you, Roland?"
"Well, I'm pro-Capitol, of course. They're—as Diana and Minerva said—supportive of our goals and we, the hard-working ones, will be rewarded. But as for the Hunger Games, I feel like killing children is just wrong, if you know what I mean. I've probably told y'all a bunch a times before this but—"
He stopped mid-sentence as the shock hit his older siblings.
"You mean, you didn't want to train? Roland, if you aren't willing to do this, you won't win..." Valerie drifted off, realizing what she said was wrong as Minerva stepped on her foot. "Sorry, I'm trying to stop being so impulsive all the time. You know I didn't mean that..."
It hurt, but the important thing was to shake it off and not dwell on such negative thoughts. He'd be able to kill in the Games—it was just that he didn't like to and how he absolutely had to Volunteer to uphold the family name.
It was always like this. His many siblings were all either younger or older than him, leaving him as the middle child, forgotten in the midst of all the fancy achievements and statuses the others, successful in their jobs, got. He was just that guy in the middle who made hurtful comments and put up extroverted facades to hide the true deep thoughtful person he was within.
Stop dwelling on your inside thoughts. Other people and family are what matters—you have to console them you'll come back. He shook the negative and self-depreciating comments on himself away and said, "Guys, don't worry. I'll kill when I have to, and I can succeed with hard work." Hard work had become a mantra. "I'll be back before you know it!"
"We know you will," Diana responded, and as Matt, his boyfriend, called him from the other side of the hall, she added, "I presume you must continue your rounds?"
"Yep, see you all later!"
Roland found Matt in the chaos of the party, who coaxed Roland's previous emotions and thoughts out of him with legendary skill and reassured his doubts that he wouldn't be able to kill when it came to it.
"'Good' and 'evil' are mere concepts created to draw us in; to stop us from becoming our own selves. Screw them."
Sarisa Karlen, 18
District 2 Tribute
Even though her Volunteer spot for later that day was granted, Sarisa still found herself accepting the second-place contender's challenge in the ring. She'd just had an overall terrible week; she knew she'd gotten the thirty-seventh question wrong on her final the second she turned it in despite her checking, and it may have brought down her perfect 100 in math. To add insult to injury, when scores were put up, everyone saw her less-than-one-hundred score and she heard the gossip.
Let's just say the louder ones were... silenced, she thought with a smirk of satisfaction. Fighting was one of her favorite hobbies and always helped when she was in a vengeful mood.
And earlier that day, she'd heard Ambrosia Argus telling her clique that she'd been deserving of the Volunteer spot—and that Sarisa wasn't a valid contender. Sneaking away with that knowledge, Sarisa'd kept it in her head until this moment; she'd expected Ambrosia to challenge her again, and had been planning her fighting strategy since.
Despite her natural defensive reaction to Ambrosia's insults, Sarisa managed to focus on the battle at hand, shunting the thoughts to the side. They wouldn't help her in a fight—it was always cleaner to stay level-headed, cool, and collected. She grabbed her slightly blunted sword from her sheath with the ever-satisfying sound of metal on leather and faced Ambrosia.
The other girl stood a mere 5 feet, 8 inches to her six feet, one inch, but Sarisa knew there was more to her than that—she wouldn't have made it this far in the Academy otherwise. However, most female trainees were the ones who got in via flirting with officials, who never learned how to use a weapon; she would admit silently, with her protesting pride, that Ambrosia was not one of those girls, despite her associating with them.
Associating with anyone was a terrible idea. Other people held her down, never did anything properly, and prevented her from entering her "calm space" where she got all her best ideas and plans. And this girl before her had tried sassing her behind her back, thinking she wouldn't hear. No such luck.
Sarisa started processing possible plans and layouts for how she was going to proceed, her mind whirling with thoughts and strategies. She finalized it in a matter of seconds, and sliced upwards at Ambrosia's face, who raised her own sword to block it, like she thought.
However, Sarisa had decided to do something different; feign a strike up and use her momentum to bring it back down at Ambrosia's chest, who hadn't realized her tactic. Gotcha.
The blow stunned Ambrosia, who leapt back in surprise, sword pointing straight at her. Sarisa could have just ended the fight there with a sidestroke and quick slash downwards again, but decided not to. She deserves this punishment; I'll tire her out and she'll feel how it's like to be humiliated, but this one will be in front of everyone else. It was lower than Academy standards and for sure would have been counted as an "evil move" or whatever they called them nowadays, but Sarisa didn't care. All that was in her mind was payback for her wounded pride, and she would get that payback, even if it costed her.
Sarisa advanced upon the other girl and played with her like a cat would a mouse, faking lunges and stabs at the other girl's chest with her long arms and reach. She would win, and she would do it gracefully, shattering the other girl's pride. Remaining calm, she parried a weak thrust and retaliated with her own stronger one, sending jarring movements of shock up Ambrosia's blade, despite the blunted swords they were playing with.
Time to do some actual damage, she thought. Playing was fun and all that, but the audience gathered was evidently getting bored. Regardless of the fact that their swords weren't sharpened nor wouldn't slice cleanly through flesh, Sarisa went for the offensive knock-back strategy, striking at Ambrosia's joints with the flatter sides of the sword. Ambrosia's body almost everyone else at the Academy envied would be black and green and purple days after and Sarisa's wounded pride was now sated.
"Do you surrender?" she asked, to further taunt her.
"Never," Ambrosia responded, hate in her eyes despite the overcoming pain, and flashed her sword again, crashing it into Sarisa. To only meet her own sword, the force of Ambrosia's blow snapping the metal of Sarisa's in half but sending the other girl's flying into the wall, inches above an innocent bystander's head.
"Now, you will surrender."
"Hell, no!"
Sarisa couldn't help herself—she threw a powerful punch towards the other girl's head, and there was an audible clunk when fist met skull, and Ambrosia seemed to black out. She'd came up with multiple ways her plan could end, and this punch was one of them, however unlikely it may have been if she had been someone else.
She left the ring without a last glance towards Ambrosia; she didn't care.
There were still a few more hours until the Reaping, so she felt clear to sit down in a corner, replaying the fight to herself, apart from all the other trainees. A soft hand then grabbed her wrist, and Sarisa quickly turned, fist poised to strike the person who had invaded her personal space, when she stopped.
Oh. It was Sierra Lamille, her ex-girlfriend who had broken up with her to be with Collin. Raising an eyebrow, the gave a pointed look towards the girl. "There's a thing called personal space, and you're violating mine. Go away."
Sierra returned with a hurt expression. "Sarisa—I know you think you're a bad influence and whatnot, but—"
"I'm not hearing it. Why don't you run over to your boyfriend—who's it this time?—over there? Unless you want to get beat up as well?"
The other girl was rendered speechless, and Sarisa breathed an inside sigh of relief. It was over; her rage wouldn't overwhelm her self-control and though she had hardly any morality, she didn't want to hurt the girl. She was the daughter of the mayor, after all, and laying a hand on them wouldn't go unpunished. Sarisa thanked her logic and repressing of impulse.
Unwanting to listen to the whatever Sierra was going to say as she opened her mouth, Sarisa turned her back and strode through the Academy doors without a backwards look. She'd made up her mind, and that was that.
She started walking back and as she entered her family's house, her younger twin siblings, Clementine and Elliot, greeted her excitedly.
"Did you win? Are you the Volunteer?" they asked together expectedly.
"Well, what do you think? I'm Sarisa Karlen." she replied with a smirk. "Besides—I'm making sure you'll learn from the best."
Clementine squealed, as did Elliot, despite his attempts to remain "manly."
"When do we get to learn how to fight? Teach us now!" Clementine was bouncing eagerly.
"Please?!" entered Elliot to put on a facade of politeness and self-restraint; however, anyone could have told that they were both uncontrollably excited.
Footsteps sounded, and the three of them turned to see Sarisa's father, Sebastian. "Children, calm down. You'll learn when it's time—Sarisa and I will both teach you soon—when she comes back," he added.
"Seriously? Thank you so much, Dad and Sis."
"No problem, guys; it's our pleasure. Now, Sarisa, you have to get dressed for the Reaping soon—we have your outfit ready, and one for when you come back as well."
She smiled out of gratitude, a rare occurrence. "Can't wait to see the latter."
"Winning the Games was ninety-nine percent mental. Physical strength did little good."
Sapentia Papirius, 24
District 2 Female Mentor
In a crisp blouse and dress pants, Sapentia was more formally dressed than the escort and a few other mentors, especially the younger ones. But after all, she was the most recent Victor and she needed to make a good, solid, and capable impression.
Tybrus, at the projector, pressed a button and the obligatory video showing of the Capitol and their crushing of the rebellion came up. Nearly half of that stuff was staged, she thought, rolling her eyes at the way the citizens in the crowd cheered the fake news on. As the video came to a close, the mayor made a speech and the Reaping began.
"Our first tribute will be..." the escort's hand rustled around the males' bowl, finally settling on one.
I don't get why he took a long time; it's not like there will be no Volunteers, she thought, not impatiently, just noting.
"Regalus Lorde!"
"I volunteer as tribute!" A deep and smooth masculine voice arose out of the crowd, cold and confident but somehow still energetic and bouncy as the applause rang loudly. It painted a pre-tribute picture in her mind: a smiling muscular guy who sort of seemed jumpy, almost. And as the Volunteer emerged from the rows, Sapentia found her perception almost right.
"What is your name, Sir?"
"Roland Blackstone," he replied, poised and sure of himself. Sapentia noted his lean muscles and toned figure, judging him for his bulk. She was thankful he was Tybrus's tribute—she didn't think that the physically-oriented ones were her forte and wished they could just choose mentors to fit the tribute instead. But there was that stupid mentor-to-gender rule.
"And is there anything you'd like to say before you're off into the arena?"
"Yes, thank you," he said, as the escort passed him the microphone. "I'd just like to say that I've worked for this spot and I will come back to bring glory to District Two and the Blackstone family. Thank you to all the trainers who chose me, and thank you to all who supported me. See you all in a couple weeks."
"Thank you, Roland. Now, on to the females!" the escort
"Teresa Van Houten!"
"I volunteer as tribute!" a calm voice called from the crowd.
My tribute, she thought. Hopefully as collected on the inside as she comes off like now.
A blonde-haired girl slowly and carefully but not unconfidently, ambled up to the stage. Her applause was significantly less than Roland's, but now that she thought of it, Sapentia knew the Blackstone family; they were famous throughout the district for having an almost monopoly on the architectural business, and they'd thrown a large party (to which she wasn't invited) a few hours before. Or perhaps it was something else contributing to that as well. Murmurs spread through the crowd as well.
"My name is Sarisa Karlen, I'm eighteen years old, and I will be our district's next Victor." Her voice was strict and commanding, her features were sharp, and she had a smirk on her face.
"Ah, thank you, Sarisa. Is there anything you'd like to say? Perhaps how you've came so far?"
"Yes—all my life, I've been a nobody in this district. Training has been my way of pushing the limits of what I can do, and for me to find a place within. When I win the Hunger Games, I'll finally have a place, and you all will finally know who I really am."
"Thank you as well, Sarisa. And with that, ends the Reaping. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds ever be in your favor!"
A/N: Sorry for not sticking to the schedule—I was busy with competition and a Bat Mitzvah. I also struggled writing conversations because, well, I suck at conversation (even in real life), but I'm getting advice from one of my best friends, who's an extrovert, so hopefully it'll improve. If any of you have tips in general as well, I'm open to all of them and greatly thankful. :)
Apart from that, you may have noticed that I've taken out the song lyrics. Apparently, it's against the fanfiction rules. So I've added quotes I came up with that I feel represents the tribute/mentor.
And I also realized too late that I did not insert a "Weapon of Choice" section in the tribute form. My apologies for that; if you had a specific weapon of choice in mind for your tribute, please PM me with it. Otherwise, I'll just choose one for them based off realistic-ness for their build.
QOTC (question of the chapter): What were Roland and his sisters talking about at the party?
How did you like this chapter, and what did you think of the tributes? Predicted placements? Charts are bae ;)
Veni, vidi, vici,
Tigress
