Leslaw Valince (15)

His pale blonde hair was so light that the small strands held up by the wind melded into the background with the retreating orange sun. Suddenly, the boy's head popped up from the swaying wheat fields and scanned the rolling gold meadow. From the shadows cast by the small brown barn, Leslaw knew it was quitting time.

With a wide smile, he picked his knees up from the hard brown dirt and dusted off his jeans. Dodging the wheat stalks, he made his way to the brown dirt road. A stream of workers filtered out of the field. Leslaw noticed the different people in the fields. Black farmers, white countrymen, old veterans, and young bucks looking for a quick dollar followed the rocks on the side of the road towards the ramshackle buildings of District Nine.

Noticing the man in a thick white uniform and helmet, Leslaw strained his smile and started to walk by him. The large firearm in his hand gleamed in the fading light. For Leslaw, human interaction was always the high point of his day. A shaking giddiness ran through his blood when he could actually talk to others. Even the forced water break banter made him feel a small weight float of his back into the lavender sky.

"How's it going, officer?"

The pale man turned and looked at the boy in his eyes. Or eye. There was a reason most did not want to associate with Leslaw. His family history, and his appearance. He looked very odd for District Nine. Leslaw had only one eye open to viewing. A black eye patch covered the right eye. His other eye was an ornate copper color. The peacekeeper was taken aback at the eye color. Brown eyes had become rarer over his tenure.

"What is it?"

Leslaw huffed. "I just wanted to say hello."

The Peacekeeper rolled his eyes at the taller boy. "Get out of here. Reapings are tomorrow. Hurry, or I'll use this on you," he said while raising his semi-automatic rifle.

"Well, if you shoot me know, the I won't have to worry about the Games, will I?" Leslaw said with his glowing grin.

The Peacekeeper glowered at the slightly taller boy. "Just go," he shouted.

Leslaw waved and turned around. Seeing the empty road ahead, he briskly paced down the side of the dirt path. It was another day of solitude and harvesting in the fields with nothing but his tools and an angry Peacekeeper keeping him in line.

With nobody in sight, he mentally sighed. The smile evaporated like the remaining beams of sunlight through the small saplings next to him. His shoulders slumped further, and the peppy walk slowed to a slow trudge through the hard dirt. His journey always took him to this location. Spying the clearing between two large trees standing like guards in front of a museum, Leslaw inched closer to the small space.

He arrived at the strewn piles of charred wood and kindling flattened on the ground; his shattered livelihood shuffled at his feet. Every day, he stared at the wreckage as the moon began to lit the periwinkle sky.

As the days transformed into night, it became harder and harder for Leslaw to pretend to be happy. It was exhausting to appear happy to other people. His limbs never felt the nightly reprieve of the now melted springs from his scorched mattress. All his back muscles were accustomed to were the pebbles poking through the hot dirt in the town alleyways.

There was no family left for him. The remnants of his smile died.

He could hardly muster the strength to smile, but he had to do so. Nobody would want to cut him a break if he moped around. Sadly, he stilled remained friend and ally-less in the poor boondocks of District Nine.

All the energy he could muster by himself was to stare down at the pile of burnt wood and broken glass. Underneath the sparkling stars in the cool, summer night, Leslaw saw his lonely days fly in front of him, even with his dysfunctional family gone.

Erytheia Perzsi-(15)

There are very few places in District Nine that could be considered wealthy. To the residents, it was the cream of the crop when it came to structures. The elegant white mansions stood in small clusters that plagued the humble landscape surrounding them. Most stretched three stories tall and had the width of a small running track.

They had utilities and technology that few in District Nine really thought about or even had the pleasure of glancing. Plasma televisions, heated air conditioning, refrigerators, and walk-in closets swirled around in their dreams, while the owners sleepwalked through them with an air of entitlement.

"There's nothing wrong with being rich," Erytheia said as her heel clicked on the tile floor.

The small shopping center across the street from the town square was one of the few spots in District Nine that had any sort of luxurious items. The building was two-stories high and had a large glass ceiling. The lights and glimmer of the store signs hanging over the entrances welcomed the light breeze from the rumbling vents. It was a small oasis for the fortunate od the District. It was as close to the Capitol one could get without going into the Games.

Erytheia continued to strut down the walkway alongside the golden railing. Looking down, she saw the few well-dressed people in the District mulling around like hamsters in the hay-filled cage at the pet store display window. The energy permeated the air with a jcular fervor, as if another party was occurring later in the evening.

"I mean, our parents worked hard to make their money. Why is it a crime to have it?" The platinum-blonde haired girl whined.

Next to her, a shorter girl in a yellow blouse chuckled. "Because why would anybody like us?"

"They're just jealous, Darla. But they shouldn't be."

"And why is that?"

Erytheia made an overdramatic gasp. "Have you not been here the past year? Ths District has been getting better and better. And you know why?"

"If you mention his name, I'm going to cho-."

"Aslovee."

"Of course."

Erytheia groaned. "You don't get it. He won the Games. Do you think this place would have been built if it wasn't for that?" She flailed her arms around in the air. "You think that homeless shelter would exist if he didn't win? Would the streets be cleaner and smell less if it wasn't for him?"

"I guess no-."

"Exactly. He's the reason anything good has come out of this District since anything bread related. And you know, bread isn't good for you. It's starchy and bloats you up."

Darla sighed. "Why are you worrying about that. It's not like we're ugly."

Erytheia continued walking and looked over at the shorter girl. While her speech had been hasty, her thoughts were crystal clear.

District Nine had been a hell-hole since she was born. Her parents did have money (legal or not was yet to be determined), and she had plenty of goods and clothes to entertain her. However, there was nobody to hang out with or become friends with since she was such an outlier in an impoverished area. She did not think she missed out on much. Homeless people roamed around like reanimated corpses. The burning sun singed the golden fields of wheat where workers did nothing but toil and bear the stress of whips on skin.

Even with the attempted revolution, District Nine had little to offer. There were hardly any demonstrations against the Capitol. Katniss never even visited the District save for her obligatory appearance during the Victor's tour. Sure, she was comfortable. No Peacekeepers were trying to get her. Her parents money would assure her of that. But there were no boys, no friends, no fashion styles, and no real reason to exist in the District.

Then, Aslovee won.

Darla and her other "friends" (she didn't want to call them friends for fear of being to attached) called it an obsession. Erytheia knew better. The people in the Capitol obsessed over the Victor. Erytheia just had a very strong interest.

"Fine. I'm obsessed." She said.

"With what? Not eating bread?" Darla asked.

Erytheia stopped walking and faced Darla. "No. Aslovee. But can you blame me. This is the only good thing to happen here since I've been alive. And he came from right here. He's inspirational to others, Darla. He is a symbol."

Darla scoffed. "A symbol. Like you-know-who."

Erytheia grimaced. "No, not like Catgirl. I know for a fact that she just lucked into winning. But Aslovee fought. He wanted to be strong, and he cared about us. You can see it in his eyes."

"Are you crazy? I can't see anything. He was just a guy that happened to not die."

"And he is actually pretty smart. Not t mention, this place is a whole lot livelier."

Darla rolled her eyes. "You just like him because he looks good and has abs."

The brown-eyed girl gasped. "That is bullshit. I mean…that certainly isn't a drawback, but I like everything else about him, too."

"If someone told me you were actually a spy from the Capitol, I would believe them with how you act about this guy."

Erytheia slinked her head down and moved forward down the long walkway past the stores. Why could she not see just how much of a positive influence he had been? In fact, what reason did she have to not like Aslovee. He had it all from his tough persona to his low voice. He was a much better Victor than Katniss could ever dream of being. In fact, Aslovee would have made a much better Mockingjay. Then, she could actually move to the Capitol and become that news reporter.

Also, the new line of Cyrus's nail polish just came out, and it is not available in District Nine. They can't have it all yet, but she can try to enjoy the spoils of the Victor.

Which is why she couldn't wait for the next day.

Erytheia thought her lime green sundress went perfect with her light-tanned skin. With the subtle curls in her hair, she giggled while making a quick face at the mirror. Strapping on her thick silver bracelet with a blue jay encrusted in blue gems, she exited her large pink room and walked down the hall. The beige wall were covered in pictures of her mom and dad. They were starting to move up in age. His dad had whisps of grey hair skidding the edge of his sideburns. Even mom, with her skin cream, had a line or two just noticeable on her grinning face.

Walking down the purple stairs with golden rails, she stepped onto the hardwood floor and waltzed to the door.

"See you after the reaping," she shouted behind her towards the empty stairwell.

The reaping was as hot and boring as she remembered. The same small finger prick followed the corralling like sheep into the various age pens. She hoped any moisture in the air would not frazzle her hair. She needed to look perfect. However, the crowd was a little more restless than usual. It seemed that the positive energy clinged to them. Erytheia felt small shakes of excitement go through her bones as the possible Tributes chatted away in an almost festive manner.

A frumpy, smiling lady in her mid-thirties by the name of Barley Simmons cleared her throat and tapped the microphone. "Thank you ladies and gentleman. I'm glad that there is a little more interest in the Games this year."

The audience chuckled. The audience never laughed in these things.

"I know I've bored you all with the details, so why don't we see if who will make it two-in-a-row for District Nine, shall we?"

Barley looked down and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper. Finding a sharp edge, she yanked out a slip of paper.

"Our female Tribute is Miss Jenna Marbles."

"I volunteer."

Erytheia basked in the spotlight as she grinned manically. She could not believe it, but the audience was actually applauding. Whether it was genuine admiration, or appreciation for her sacrifice, she did not know. The happy faces nodded and pointed at her while she sauntered up the wooden steps to the stage.

Peeking past Barley, she saw Aslovee. He was exactly how she remembered from the television. His half-lidded, almost bored eyes looked at her while he sat as straight as an ironing board in his chair. He was wearing an all black suit, and his black hair was trimmed and straight. She wanted to tackle him right then and there, but that could wait till later. She had the Capitol to look forward to seeing.

"And what's your name?"

Erytheia waved at the crowd. "I;m Erytheia Perzsi," she said when she turned to face Aslovee. "And I'll be joining you in the Victor's Village." She winked at him. Surely, sponsors would pay attention to that.

After a few guffaws and cheers, Barley reached in and swiped another slip of paper. "Our next tribute is Mister Leslaw Valince."

The crowd quited as the tall, slightly muscled boy with an eyepatch walked up to the stage. He certainly stood out with his bright blonde hair and smile. His smile set him apart. It was wide, stretched, and a little unsettling. It was a grin that spelled either incessant glee or toppling grief at his situation. It did not appear he had any supporters. The people seemed more confused than upset, but that was how quickly attitudes changed in District Nine.

He came up and shook hands with Erytheia. For her, it was the beginning of a war of attention. If she wanted to win, she needed Aslovee on her side 100%. For Leslaw, he was used to little support. In a sense, he and Aslovee had that alike.

For the first time in history, both tributes were not on the verge of a nervous breakdown in District Nine.

Leslaw had a small thread of hope to hang on to that somebody would say goodbye to him. He was nice and friendly to all people he went to work with and met on the street. There was no reason to be an enemy with him. There was no reason to be friends with him. He was just another street kid with a dysfunctional, albeit, dead, family.

The leather white couch did little to comfort his tense back. HE was used to the had labor on his muscles, though. By all accounts, he wanted to win, but what would he come back to? There was nobody there o receive him. A few people could like him, but it would occur because he won, not because he was a human being.

With guards and cameras swooping by once in a while, his forced smile stayed plastered on his face. He thought it was funny. He would be ell-fed and prettied up just in time for slaughter in the Games. The lights of the yellow lamps and recess lighting above reflected off the marble floor. It was the only nice building in the District that he had been to.

Maybe his interesting appearance would help him with sponsors. Of course, with the most recent victor being from District Nine, he would hope that Aslovee's support would bleed over to Leslaw. They did have a trait or two that was similar, right?

A Peacekeeper tapped him on the shoulder. "It's time to go."

"To the free buffet on the train? I don't have any money."

The black Peacekeeper rolled his eyes. "It's on me, then. On the condition that you don't come back."

"Believe me. If I have to come back here and give you anything, I'd probably step off the mine at the start." Leslaw chuckled with his smile.

Thank you very much for reading. I apologize for the lengthy layoff. However, reality calls to me at times. I will work more diligently in the future.

However, MORE TRIBUTES ARE NEEDED. Please consult the Tribute list for opening. Only two per person. And please refer people to this. You get sponsor points.

Also, for sponsor points, my newest venture, Attack On Titan: The Musical, is available for your consideration.

Thank you. If it wasn't for your reviews and support, I would have no need to continue. Now, I have the precedent required to move onward!