Marlee Chasner, District Six Female, 17 years old
The reaping's have never been the same since my father died. Mornings filled with sweet words of encouragement, small games to keep me occupied as I went and watched as two people were essentially sent to their deaths had died when he did. For the last year, and this one, the reaping days have been filled with work.
I was only fifteen when my father died. Nobody knew what happen to him but I've always had the suspicion that my mother did something so her son, my younger half-brother born of an affair, could inherit my father's business. Chasner Industries was his pride and joy, a thing passed down through the family for generations. Usually it went to the eldest son but I guess he must've known that Jack was never a full Chasner and I was named as the inheritor. In fact, I'm sure that because Chanser Industries has a reputation of being a small, homely and reliable business, I was permitted to live in a house by myself despite being fifteen. The Peacekeepers were always a little more lenient in Six, especially when it came to the business that would always fix whatever they needed no matter how many times they broke them.
As I said, work's dominated my reaping mornings ever since my father died. I'm determined to have it live on in full Chasner hands. It's Chasner Industries, not Futon-Chasner Industries. Besides, my father made the company and reliable place to go to and I myself have a reputation for being maturer beyond my age as well as repair skills that rival my father's, so work coming first is a priority that I consciously choose to uphold, even if I'm also known for hating small talk and not smiling often.
Which brings me to now. I'm working on a customer's engine; he was a regular customer of my father's and thus I know his business is imperative - even if his small talk is boring and, quite frankly, exhausting. I know he doesn't mean to distract me from my work, but the questions he asks are always just that; distracting.
"Is it your last reaping?" He asks me as I work hard on his engine, remembering the tricks my father had done as well as what I've read in the books he left.
"Second to last," I mumble, hoping my answer would silence him whilst I got through one of the more stressful parts of this particular repair but, just as my luck would have it, he doesn't relent.
"Ah, are you excited or nervous?"
I shrug, not answering his question and instead choosing to immerse myself further into my work. I hope he gets the hint but, as always, he carries on.
"I remember my last reaping - I couldn't wait to get it over and done with."
I hum here and there in time of what I think is him talking; I wouldn't know considering I'm trying to do my job right. I'm sure at the end of the day he'd rather have the job done right with little conversation than a shoddy job with a lot of talking.
It isn't until he asks me when I'm getting ready for the reaping that I stand up and muster the best smile I can at him.
"Right now," I say, running a hand scarcely through my hair to make sure I don't get any oil or grease in it, "I'll need to order in the parts to continue this tomorrow, if that's okay."
He nods and smiles in gratitude, "They say good things are worth the wait."
I continue to smile until he leaves, immediately going to the catalogue and making a note to order the various parts I need to finish the job. Before going into the house to get ready I give myself a once over in the mirror, cursing myself for wiping my forehead and leaving an oil mark across it.
Hawker Boeing, District Six Male, 17 years old
Reaping's are always a little weirder in District Six. There's been accounts from victors that other tributes always talk about how they spent the morning with their parents, usually having some deep meal and hope that it's not the last time they're able to do so. That might happen in Six, but really more people care about morphling. That's the deal with our family. We're divided in two; my mother and father are involved heavily in the morphling addiction business in Six, being among the most prolific dealers out there whilst myself and my older brother, Jaguar, live together away from them.
It's not a bad setup; Jaguar and I don't need anybody else but each other - as long as we have the other we'll be okay.
Reaping mornings are always oddly fun. We usually invite my best friend Felix over and spend the morning playing a few card games whilst eating some of the nicer food Jaguar receives as part of his hovercraft pilot training regime. He doesn't receive a lot of food but it's usually the decadent stuff from the Captiol; probably to get him used to it so when he goes to live there as a pilot he'll be used to it.
"Only two more years and you guys'll be free from it all," He says as he bites down on an elaborate looking pie, "There's such a freedom getting past it."
Felix and I look at each other before nodding. "Yeah I can't wait," Felix says, shuffling his cards and flashing a smile at Jaguar, "So close but so far away."
"Ain't that right?" I say in agreement and we all laugh airily. The great thing about us three is that we don't need jokes to be pulled to have a good time; we calm one another and give a level of security and amusement that we wouldn't get otherwise. Saying that, no matter how calm we make each other, nothing can take away from the impending reaping.
Felix and I are ready hours in advance and the process of eating breakfast together and playing card games is just a way to waste the time before we have to go to the Justice Building. Some reaping mornings are quicker than others, it all depends on how much you're dreading it. This year, Felix and I have decided we're a seven on a scale of ten; ten dreading it the most. We've joked that, knowing one of our lucks, one of us would be reaped. I'd like to think there's an unofficial pact between us that, if one of us did get reaped, we'd give the best advice we could during the goodbyes.
We finish the game we're playing rather quickly, handing the cards back to Jaguar. He looks at us once, twice before grinning.
"One more game before the whistle goes?"
Felix and I look at each other before nodding and smiling; might as well - it beats standing outside the Justice Building and waiting for the inevitable.
Nobody's PoV
District Six is always such an unsightly district to view the reapings of. Much like Three, District Six has large chimneys that billow smoke, taking away from the beauty of Panem. It's a necessary thing to ensure such high quality travel, but it's always at the expense of impressions of the District. Besides, Panem already has enough to look at with the morphling addicts who stare aimlessly at the screens and the reapees. You can always tell when people are staring and not taking it in and those who stare aimlessly without another thought in their head. It's such a contrast to see the reapees who, for the most part, haven't succumbed to the addiction yet, and those who've had years addicted to the painkiller. It's haunting, more the reason why Six isn't seen as highly as other districts.
Their escort is a military man, coming from a long line of high up commanders in the Capitol. District rumour is that his grandfather was the one who led the Capitol to victory and was the one who nudged the president into deciding that Thirteen should be obliterated. Needless to say the way he conducts the reapings is regimented, perhaps something needed in a District where nobody really knows what's going on.
The way he does his speech sounds as if it's intended as a pep talk but comes across as orders being barked at. Some of the younger reapees cower together whilst some of the older ones roll their eyes. No doubt the next school day he'll be made fun of for the way he talks to them.
As usual, people look at him but don't pay attention. Though, to be fair, those from Six barely pay attention to anyone. The only time interest is piqued, especially for the non-reapees, is when the two names are chosen and thus it's no surprise that when the escort marches to the female bowl without announcing it, the square goes quiet and people wait on bated breath.
"The female tribute for District Six in the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games is," He barks as he breaks the black seal, "Marlee Chasner!"
A decently tall girl emerges from the seventeen-year-old's section, her brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She's decently tanned and has cold, hazel eyes. The camera pans as she stomps to the stage with her fists clenched. Clearly being reaped has made her more angry than being upset, not that her expressionless face would allude to any single emotion. She takes her place by the escort and refuses to look at him, eliciting a glare from him before he goes and chooses the male tribute, marching in a similar fashion.
"And the male tribute for District Six in the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games is - Hawker Boeing!"
Another from the seventeen-year-old's section, Hawker walks down the aisle with visible shock on his face. He looks to be quite tall but his thinness might add to the illusion. Whilst Marlee had a muted brown hair, Hawker dons a more striking reddish-brown colour with grey eyes that look around in fear. Whatever nervousness he shows is only further emphasised with the image of his district partner stomping her way up whilst he walks and takes his time.
It's clear that the escort isn't as satisfied as he could be with the two tributes as he lazily presents them to the District. Whether that's because he knows that the morphling addicts won't care and will only bet to try and get more money to fuel their addition or because both tributes have seemingly offended him for different reasons, nobody knows.
The two shake hands before being led into the Justice Building.
Whilst Marlee has some spunk to her in comparison to the meek Hawker, neither make a considerably impression on the Capitolites.
WE'RE HALFWAY THERE!
Ahh I just want to get into the Games! The way I do tributes is I write down key stuff like weapons, strengths, weaknesses and game strategy when I get to the reaping so I'm already thinking about things like the Bloodbath and it sucks! I just want to write it!
But, nonetheless, here are Marlee and Hawker! Thank you so much to 66samvr and Sparky-She-Demon for them respectively; I hope I did them justice!
I plan to try and update this story quickly so we can get into the good stuff, so District Seven here we come!
As always, reviews make me happy!
~ Oli
