Author's note: Thanks to youngpatriot for Seamon (which, by the way, is pronounced Shay-mon. Just FYI.) and Anita, Red Roses1000 for Varia, and for Dresden. Also, thank you to CelticGames4 for both escorts.
Chapter 5: Reapings, Districts 5 and 8
Seamon Devier, District Five Male, 42 - youngpatriot
"Regina! Did you take my yellow hair ribbon?" Seamon's sixteen-year-old daughter, Reagan, asked her twelve-year-old sister.
"No!" the younger girl called from the bathroom. "I don't have it."
"Then why can't I find it?"
"You know girls, it would be easier for you to find your belongs if you cleaned your room once and while," said their mother, Marylnn.
"We do!" Regina replied, while Reagan only sighed.
Trevor, the oldest of Seamon and Marylnn's children at eighteen, met his father's glance across the table and rolled his eyes. "Girls. It took me less than ten minutes to get ready. What takes them so long?"
Seamon shrugs. "Women just tend to take longer than men, at least all the women I know. Their appearance takes more work than ours, and therefore, more time."
"Well, Dad, with your hair disappearing like it is, of course they take longer," Trevor said, cracking a grin.
"Haha," Seamon replied, unamused. His dark hair was receding, but at least he still had most of it. "Very funny."
Finally ready, Seamon's wife and daughters joined them at the table. Seamon did his best to ignore the empty chair that remained. Three years ago, that chair had been filled by his son, Deacon, who would have been seventeen now, if he hadn't been lost to the Hunger Games at age fourteen. The months following Deacon's death had been the hardest of Seamon's life. Losing his son had caused him to sink into depression, and during that time, he had been neglectful towards his other children, so much so, they they had gone to live with his sister-in-law, so that he and Marylynn could grieve. As a result, Seamon felt like a failure as a father. He couldn't even care for his children in the moment they needed him most. Never in his life had Seamon ever felt so selfish.
The family was quiet as they ate, as they usually tended to be during meals before the reaping. Losing Deacon had put a strain on the whole family, not just Seamon. This time of year was always hard, with everyone nervous that another one of their own would be reaped. This year would have been Regina's first reaping, but with the Quell twist, Seamon and Marylynn were the ones in jeopardy. Seamon was nervous for himself and his wife, but knew there was no use in dwelling on it. The most logical way to react to reaping day was to focus on the tasks ahead, which included making sure his family was as prepared for the reaping as they possibly could be and out the door in time.
The family filed out the door at around quarter to ten, since they lived less than a mile from the Justice Building. Once there, Marylynn planted kisses on her children's foreheads while Seamon hugged them goodbye, assuring them that they would see each other soon before the kids headed to the sidelines. Marylynn and Seamon didn't speak as they stood in line, but rather clasped each other's hands. With their fingers pricked, Seamon stood to the side and faced his wife. She bite her lip, looking unsure of what to say.
"Try not to worry, Marylynn," Seamon said gently. "The odds of one of use being chosen are extremely low."
"That's what we thought three years ago," Marylynn said, her voice wavering.
Seamon sighed. "I know, but with losing both Deacon and my brother to the Games, the chances of a third Devier being reaped is even more decreased. It would be like the same tree being struck by lightning three times in it's life."
Seamon wasn't being optimistic. He never was one to look on the bright side and imagine the best in a situation. Instead, he was simply stating the logical truth. To have a third member of one's family reaped into the Games was statistically unlikely, what with all the other slips in the bowl each year. Understanding that, Marylynn nodded before kissing her husband's cheek and departing for the women's section.
Maneuvering through the crowd, Seamon spotted his best friend, Weldon Wright. He and Weldon had grown up as neighbors and had been close ever since. Though the pair lived a few blocks away from each other now, they still got together to smoke cigars and chat, just like they always had.
"Good Morning, Weldon."
Weldon held up a hand in greeting, but grunted. "Hmph. Not a very good morning, though, is it? Thought I was done with these reapings and only had my kids to worry about."
"That's the Capitol for you," Seamon said with a sigh.
"All too true. Want to come to my place this afternoon, since we have a day off?"
"Sure. That would be nice," Seamon agreed.
The two men quieted as the mayor came to the stage. After a short speech, Mayor Escott introduced the victors and the escort. Though District Five had one of the highest victor counts of the lower districts, only three victors were currently living. Silex Ramon, Akila Mo, and Meyer Wilson sat lined up in a row. The oldest, fifty-six-year-old Silex, could be seen out and about in the district, "spreading around hope" as he put it. The other two, thirty-one -year-old Akila and nineteen-year-old Meyer never left their cozy homes in victor's village, with exceptions coming twice a year during the reapings and the victory tours. The escort, an older woman named Belphoebe Faustina, had seen the younger two victors to victory. She was a short and chubby woman, with a fluffy pink wig upon her head, her face covered in pink make-up to match. For a Capitolite, her outfit was simple, but she was covered in gold necklaces, bracelets, and rings decorated with a variety of gems. Seamon couldn't be sure how old she was, since she had obviously had several cosmetic surgeries over the years. He suspected she was at least in her fifties, probably older, as she had mentioned adult children for years, and even a granddaughter for the past two or three reapings.
"Hello, District Five," Belphoebe said brightly. "Let's start with the mothers. I'm a mother myself, as you know, with three wonderful children. They're all adults now, of course, but I do love them dearly, as I'm sure all of you love your own offspring. Let's see here… Varia Staves!"
A trembling woman with a blonde updo stepped out of the crowd, tears pouring from her piercing blue eyes. Halfway to the stage, Varia stopped walking as she glanced out into the crowd of non-eligible citizens. At that point, she began to sob harder, and stayed frozen in place. After a moment, a peacekeeper came forward and dragged her roughly by the arm onto the stage.
"Don't worry, dear," Belphoebe said to the sobbing woman who stood by her side. "You'll see your family soon. Is there anything you'd like to say to the audience."
Varia shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was thick with tears. "No. N-not here."
"Alright. Suit yourself." Belphoebe then moved on to the male's bowl and withdrew a name. "Seamon Deveir!"
Seamon gasped, stunned at hearing his name. Deveir. He had hoped he would never have to hear his surname at a reaping again. Yet, here it was, for a third time. He broke out in a cold sweat and took a shaky step forward. Seamon quivered so badly as he approached the stage, that he felt surprised when he made it without falling over.
"Hello, Seamon," the escort said cheerfully, as if he were meeting an old friend rather than the woman who would lead him to his death. "Anything you would like to say?"
Unable to speak, Seamon only shook his head. Belphoebe told him and Varia to shake hands, and they did so, before being shoved into the Justice Building. Alone in a room, Seamon sat on the edge of a chair, staring at the door in shock. At any minute, his family would enter, and he'd have to say goodbye for the last time.
Regina was the first to burst into the room, her body quivering with tears as she barreled into him, burying her head in his chest. The rest of the family followed behind. Reagan and Marylynn were also in tears, while Trevor swallowed hard, keeping his emotions back as he tried to seem strong and manly. "Dad, don't go!" Regina cried. "This isn't fair!"
"The Games aren't fair, Regina," Seamon said, hugging his youngest daughter. "It's about time you learn that."
"You'll come home. I know you will," Reagan said. At sixteen, Reagan was still a dreamer, as well as a daddy's girl. She believed he could do anything. Seamon had no idea where she got her never ending optimism. Certainly not from him.
Seamon didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. How could he tell his children that he wasn't coming home to them? They would think he didn't even want to try, or that they weren't worth it. Perhaps they deserved a stronger father, a better one. One that had a chance. It wasn't as though he would step off the plate early. That would send a terrible message to his family. No, Seamon would do his best to stay in the shadows, and possibly manage to scrape his way into victory when all the other tributes took each other out. He doubted that would be the case though, and didn't want to fill his children with false hope.
"Look, guys," Seamon began. "I… I know I haven't been there for you all as much as I should have been after we lost Deacon, but... I do love you. I hope you know that. You don't deserve this, to lose not only your brother but also your father in this way."
"So you're giving up," Trevor muttered angrily. "Just like Deacon did."
"No, he isn't," Marylynn said, laying a hand on her husband's shoulder. "He's going to try his best to make it home. Isn't that right, dear?"
Seamon nodded. "I won't just give up, but chances are small that I will suceed. I just want to prepare you for that."
Trevor stayed silent, while Reagan joined in the hug her father and sister were sharing. Marylynn wrapped her arms around them as well, looking expectantly at Trevor. The young man sighed, before he too, embraced his family. One by one, he gave each member of the family a tight squeeze and told them he loved them. Marylynn was last, and he kissed her lips, long and slow, knowing it would be the last time his lips touched hers. Then, they were gone. Weldon was his last visitor, but being a pessimist himself, he didn't have much to say. Soon, he left the room as well, leaving only Seamon's thoughts to keep him company.
Dresden Lume, District Eight Male, 41 -
The blonde woman had left his bed an hour ago. Dresden hardly missed her. He hadn't even bothered to remember her name. To him, she was simply a distraction, nothing more. He couldn't even love her, not romantically. While he didn't care what gender he slept with, Dresden's romantic orientation only included other males, not that he had loved anyone romantically in twenty-three years. Sex and cigarettes were his only means of escape.
Dresden wasn't in the mood to leave his apartment, but he did anyway, only because reapings were mandatory. Dresden would never show his face in the center of the district if he could help it. He would take his time walking to the reaping. He didn't have far to go as it was, living near and working at the closest factory to the square. Dresden hated reaping day. It reminded him too much of Matthias, his ex-boyfriend, who had volunteered out of the blue and then proceeded to break up with him during goodbyes when they were eighteen.
As he trudged to the reaping at a slow pace, he came across a rather large family. They paid him no mind, but rather concentrated on arriving to the reaping on time. There were eight kids in all, with the oldest being at least twenty and the youngest around age eight. The youngest one was tearing ahead, with his mother trying to call him back repeatedly. The father must have been around Dresden's age, but looked twenty, even thirty years older. He had a crooked back and a lame leg, and hobbled around using a wooden cane. Dresden smirked. The man was pathetic. Dresden's life sucked, but at least he could walk. The couple must be stupid, too, for having so many kids in a dismal place like district eight. As much as Dresden liked to taunt the man and his family, though, in reality, he was jealous. Although the man was crippled, he had a loving family, something Dresden's life lacked. He'd be caught dead before he admitted his envy, however.
Dresden let the family distance themselves from him, while he peered into the windows of the shops he passed, wanting to kill as much time as possible before the reaping. He didn't plan to buy anything, not that the shops were open anyway. Dresden never bought more than the necessities he needed to survive. He didn't own many outfits, and bought only enough food and water to get by one. Much of his money that he earned was from his part-time job at a factory went towards rent and cigarettes. Occasionally, he would pay the people he slept with, while other times, they paid him. On rare occasions, the sex was free.
Many of the people walking by gave Dresden weary looks as they passed. Dresden figured they were concerned that he was planning on breaking in, or perhaps they were simply appalled at his appearance. Age had not treated Dresden well. His unruly dark hair was strewn at many odd angles, and his blue eyes were sunken. While he was tall, he was bony, and his limbs included sharp angles. He knew he wasn't the type of man most people wanted their children around.
As he expected, Dresden arrived at the justice building at the very last possible minute. No one was left to be checked in, and most of the peacekeepers had taken their places among the crowd. Dresden headed to the sidelines, but was stopped by the bark of a peacekeeper.
"Hold it! Every adult citizen must check in."
Dresden stared at him, perplexed. "I don't have children."
"How do I know you're not lying? Get over here before I force you."
Dresden sighed and stepped towards the peacekeeper, stating his name. The peacekeeper pricked his finger and looked up his name. "Ah ha," he said. "You're lucky it's the reaping and I don't whip you for lying."
This was unbelievable. Scowling at the peacekeeper, Dresden crossed his arms. "I'm not lying. I really don't have kids."
"Says here that you do," the peacekeeper argued. "A bastard son. Does the name Teresa Howell sound familar?"
Dresden thought back to all the women he could have possibly impregnated. Teresa Howell. Teresa. The more he thought, the more the name Teresa sounded familiar. At one point, a tall figure with brown hair came to mind, though her face was blurred from memory. Yes, it was quite possibly that he could have knocked up this Teresa woman, though Dresden supposed it really didn't matter. Teresa hadn't contacted him thus far, so why should she now? Dresden could stand with the other men at just this one reaping, and then go back to his miserable life. Nothing would change. Without anymore prodding, Dresden took his place in the very back of the crowd of men who had ever fathered a child.
Dresden didn't pay attention to anything on stage. Neither the bald mayor nor the two sorry-looking victors interested him. He barely paid attention as the red and navy colored escort gave his speech and reached into the woman's bowl.
"Anita Lang!"
A trembling woman with blonde hair stepped out of the crowd of women and walked to the stage. Dresden sighed, wishing she'd hurry up so the reaping could end and he could go home. Finally, she stepped onto the stage, and the mayor shook her hand.
"Welcome, Anita," Absalon said. "It's an honor to meet you. Best of luck. Now, for the males." Too slowly, he pulled out a name. "Dresden Lume!"
No fucking way. Stunned that his life could get even more shitty, Dresden choked on his own spit, which turned into a hacking cough, an effect of years of smoking cigarettes. Once he could breathe again, the cough turned into a loud, bitter laugh. Of course he would find out he had made a kid with some random girl, and then get reaped because of it, all in the same day. Instantaneously, the men around him formed a wide circle, trying to get as far away as they could. Zombie-like, Dresden staggered to the stage, thoughts of Matthias flooding his head.
"Welcome, Dresden," Absalon greeted. The man seemed frightened of him, and Dresden couldn't blame him. "Ladies and gentlemen, you're tributes! Anita Lang and Dresden Lume! Shake hands, tributes!"
Anita held out her hand, and Dresden hesitantly took it. Her hands were rough and dry, and after a brief handshake, Dresden was glad to let go. The woman looked to be in almost as bad shape as him. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back, and her pale face was beginning to show age. She must have been around his age, give or take five years, but it was hard to tell. Dresden nearly chuckled to himself. This woman certainly wasn't getting any sponsors based on her looks.
Eventually, he and Anita were guided into two separate rooms. Dresden briefly considered telling the peacekeepers that he could just be taken to the train, that he didn't have anyone he needed to speak with before he left for the Capitol. He decided against it, simply because if he did, he would surely have to face some awkward conversations with Absalon and the mentors, Georgette and Kente. At least with Anita on the train with him, the victors would have somebody else to bother. Chances were he wouldn't have much opportunity to be by himself during the day until he was in the arena, so he supposed he should take advantage of the time he did have.
After about a minute of sitting in silence, Dresden was surprised to see the door open, and Valleria Khallis step in. Valleria wasn't a friend, but rather a close acquaintance who happened to work at the same factory as he did. At night, she worked as a middleman, or a pimp of sorts, giving recommendations to Dresden and others about who should sleep with who. Heck, he had even slept with her brother. Dresden was just waiting for her to drop him, just like everyone else in his life had.
"Hey, Dresden. How are you holding up?"
He only shrugged.
"Yeah, dumb question," Valleria said. "You know, I never knew you had a kid. Who did you knock up?"
"Some woman named Teresa," he muttered, having already forgotten the woman's last name. Shit, Valleria was nosy. Why did she care so much about this when he didn't give a fuck at all?
Valleria nodded in understanding. "Do you have anyone else coming to visit you?"
Dresden scowled. "What do you think?"
Valleria held up her hands. "Sorry, sorry, good point."
The two of them didn't speak for a minute or two before Valleria stood up. "Well, I should go. I just wanted to wish you good luck in there." Dresden grunted. "I mean it. You don't deserve this."
When Dresden didn't reply, she left the room. It didn't take Dresden long to realize that maybe he didn't want to be left alone as much as he thought he did. How he wished he had Matthias coming for him to say goodbye. Of course, if Matthias was still alive, he likely wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. He wouldn't have slept around, and he and Matthias probably wouldn't have adopted kids. He wouldn't have been eligible to be reaped, and probably would be headed back home hand and hand with his boyfriend right at this moment as they discussed how pointless it was to have reapings be mandatory for everybody to attend. Of course, there was also be the possibility that Matthias still would have broken up with him, even if he hadn't volunteered for the Games. There was a possibility that everything would be the same.
Dresden broke out of his thoughts and glanced up sharply as he heard a timid knock at the door. "Dresden?" the voice of Absalon called out timidly. "It's time to go."
Time to go, indeed. Time to go to hell.
Author's Note: Hi there. :) A bit short of a chapter. Sorry about that, hope no one minds. In good news, we only have four more tributes to see before the reapings are done, so yay for that!
On another note, a friend of mine, CelticGames4 (creator of Justus and Circe) and I will be starting a collab SYOT starting on June 15th! We both will likely be focusing most of our attention on our individual SYOTs, so no worries that this won't still be updated. Be on the lookout for that. :)
