Skyfall

Let the sky fall;
When it crumbles;
We will stand tall;
Face it all together.

District Eight Reapings

Mohair Trill, 18 years old

Adagio picks up his pace just as I turn another corner. The sound of both our footsteps hitting the mansion floor echoes around the large rooms that we pass. Each room is bigger than three or four of the houses I used to see everyday in the bad side of the district. Adagio doesn't know how easy he has it, neither does Cadence, but I do. I may live here but each and every day I miss the unity back in the district between the poor. I don't miss the quality of life, having to grovel for food and live amongst the starving and dying. But I do miss my friends. I miss them all.

Adagio doesn't let me see them anymore. Not if I want to remain here.

"Mohair, you do realize that today is the reaping? Cadence needs you in her room this very second!"

If I can put him off for as long as possible, it means I won't have to see her. Cadence. What happened to her?

It's a classic love story, or at least it was at first. Me, the poor little teenager working day in day out, to get any amount of money to live by. Cadence, daughter of the richest man in District Eight. We met in the factory, since Adagio owns it. Cadence made the first move, talking to me like I was one of her own. You don't usually hear tales of that. Normally the rich ridicule and mock those inferior to themselves, but not Cadence, and not Adagio. We fell in love. Adagio, ever the charitable man, wanted me to live with him and his daughter in this mansion.

It was a dream come true for a low life like me. Everything I could ever want. But with money comes power, and that's exactly what Adagio and Cadence had over me. If I wanted to ever have money and a place to live in, I had to do whatever was asked of me from the man that once seemed so generous. I married Cadence which I actually was pleased about. She wasn't all she seemed either.

My hands brush against the scratch marks underneath my collar, still throbbing, and one or two of the most recent still bleeding. She's a violent girl and I can't defend myself. I tried to. Once not that long ago. Adagio exploded into a fit of rage and nearly cast me out. I want to survive but the price of that is to be their little puppy. If I'm ever kicked out he won't ever let me return to my job, and he'll make sure no one else will employ me. I'm stuck. Stuck for the rest of my life with this family and I cannot do anything about it.

His hand brushes against my shoulder before clamping down hard, causing me to yelp with pain. His firm grip is enough to get me to stop. I turn around slowly and try not to look directly into his pale blue eyes. Icy eyes. Evil eyes. Cadence inherited the same colour from her father.

"Were you running from me Mohair?" he says with the calm yet terrifying manner he's had ever since he revealed his true self to me. "If you were running, that could very well prove rather bad for you. Don't you like me Mohair?"

A chill runs down my spine, I want to struggle from his grip. I want to do everything in my power to get away from this maniac, but I remain still and let him smile that devilish grin.

"No of course you weren't."

"No sir. I'm very sorry if it seemed that way," I say to him. My teeth are so clenched together I feel they may shatter at any second. In the world I live in all I ever do is be polite, well-mannered and obedient. That's the Mohair everyone sees, everyone that I'm allowed to see at least. The list isn't extensive.

But inside of me. Deep down but getting closer and closer to the surface everyday, is the other side. The side these two brought about the minute they ruined everything. It's like a demon clawing its way through me, wanting to be released. It's angry. I'm angry. I hate everything that's ever been done to me, and I feel like just exploding into one big ball of rage and letting everyone know just exactly how I feel.

It's never come to that though. Calm. Professional. Polite. Never angry. Never anything but what Adagio and Cadence like to see of me. I'll let him torment me, and I'll let her torture me, simply because I'm a human being that wants to survive. I have a mansion to live in. I have food and drink whenever I so desire. But I have no freedom and no real life. He stole it from me.

"Come now Mohair. The reaping is very soon and your darling wife wants your opinion on her dress she had specially tailored and delivered to her," his grip loosens ever so slightly, I nod my head and briskly walk off, but do my best to make it look like I'm not trying to run away from him.

The entrance hall has two staircases leading upwards either side and joining together at one balcony that overlooks this room. A single red door leads deeper into the mansion where the majority of the rooms are. It took some getting used to, when it first got bad I used to think I could hide and I'd never be found. I was foolish back then. Adagio has his secrets within these walls and nothing I do nor say can remain hidden from him.

When I finally reach Cadence's room I knock as is required of me. I wait patiently, Cadence is not one to get up instantly for any visitor except her father. When she realises it's me she rolls her eyes and lets me through. I kiss each of her cheeks gently like a husband should do and wait for instruction.

Cadence is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, but that beauty is tainted with the evil within her. It hurts to even look at that long blonde hair and that pale face, with those icy eyes. The other Mohair inside almost howls at the sight of her, but I smile and do nothing as she twirls for me.

"Well, what do you think?"

Horrific. Ugly. Disgusting.

"You look radiant Cadence. You'll be the talk of the district."

"Obviously."

And so for the next half hour my time is occupied with complimenting my demonic wife and letting her hit me if I do something, anything, to displease her. There's nothing else to my life here. Just pain and misery, a never ending cycle of torment.

Woven Jones, 16 years old

"No, no, no, no, no. Do you not know anything?"

I look down at the little man and shake my head left and right a few times, maybe if I do it long enough I'll get the message through his brainless skull.

He looks at me with watery eyes and I can't help but sigh. Incompetence everywhere. When he goes to raise the brush again, I knock it hard out of his hands and it lands with a splash in the paint below. It sends a wave of red over his legs, he squeals with shock then bursts out crying. I don't know why I have bothered with him all these years. He's never gotten anything right, but for some reason I hire him straight back again to help me with whatever I need done.

It's not my place to have to tell him how to do his job is it? No. No my job is to help my father rule the district whilst these men get on with what we pay them to do. But no. No, I have to stretch myself even further than I already have to every day, and do what he should be doing.

"Look... Mr...-" I've known him for so many years but why bother learning the names of people so bloody useless?

"Evana."

"Yes look Mr Edana, I hired you to paint my room, not to make a mess of it alright?"

"Evana."

"What?"

He looks down and shakes his head, wiping away the last few tears that I can see dripping down the bridge of his nose and his cheeks. Maturity at its finest. I swear this district has an never-ending supply of dimwits.

I raise another brush and dab gently at the paint that he's already made a mess of on the wall. With precise yet quick wrist movements, I've added a beautiful little coat over the old pink I want rid of. Mr Edana looks up at me and for a second I think he looks a bit angry. Yes, I understand why an old man like him might not like to be told what to do by a sixteen year old, but he has no choice. I'm the mayor's daughter, I'm powerful, and he does what he is told or he can go deal with the Peacekeepers and what they might have to say to him.

"Now Mr Edana, see, isn't that much better? I have to go deal with a few things but when I get back I want to see this entire wall covered from top to bottom in this lovely red paint. Thank you."

I don't usually say thank you but a little bit of politeness won't hurt me. It's true I'm far superior, it's true in fact that I'm better than everyone in this entire district, except those of the same class as me. It's not a lie and it's definitely not something in my imagination. It's pure fact, and I hope that people start to realise that. If Mr Edana has a problem with me he can keep it to himself because, quite frankly, he says a word against any of my actions I'll have his tongue. Same goes to everyone.

Our house is one of the biggest in the district. It's by no means the largest but that's simply because we have to be on the inner part of the district, and there just isn't the space for such a large mansion. I'm sure we'd be dining in the biggest building ever made if we didn't have our duties with the common folk. Unfortunately we're just so important and essential to the way things run that we have to be here.

We get a never ending cycle of the poor and filthy coming to our doors with requests. My baby's sick. We have no food. Our family won't survive the winter. Blah blah blah. I'm surprised we've stuck with it for so long. If I was in charge, and when that day does come about, I'll make sure that the door is barred to those who can't pay some sort of entrance fee.

Someone barges into my shoulder. It throbs almost instantly but when I turn to scream them down, they've vanished into another room. I could give chase and order them punished for their insolence and the attack against me, but I haven't the time.

When the endless amount of corridors finally open onto the main hall, I see my father and the rest of my family sat around the large dining table. Sometimes we're allowed to eat in our own rooms but it's reaping day and breakfast shall be served here, so that if the worst happens at least we'll have spent quality time together.

By the looks on each face I can tell this is the last place they'd rather be. Same here. But family is family and no matter how much my siblings irritate me to the point of wishing I could have them arrested, I still love them.

"Ah Woven, I trust Mr Evana is treating your room with care?"

I could lie but if I did father might have the man removed and I want my room done.

"Yes, Mr Edana is doing very well. It should be done soon," I giggle and take a seat next to Lien who rolls her eyes and turns to face her twin: Nylon. Today is their first ever reaping but they don't seem nervous in the slightest. Good on them I suppose. I don't want some crying and sobbing siblings damaging our family reputation. It means the world to me that we're the highest of the high here in Eight and I do not want that ruined.

"I have a meeting with our esteemed guest Lokki in about five minutes. I trust you'll watch over the kids, dearest mother?"

My grandmother looks him up and down and nods. She's a strong old woman but rarely speaks unless necessary. She wrote down that she was saving her strength for when it was needed. Father says she's tough enough already so what she's saving her strength for I have no idea.

"Anyway. Eat your breakfast kids. We have a big day ahead of us."

Unlike normal families I suppose, no one chatters amongst themselves as we dig in to our feast. But we aren't a normal family. We're so much better, so I don't mind the absence of idle chit chat. Even amongst my siblings I am the oldest, and most definitely the one they should look up to. Power is everything, and power is something I most definitely have.

Ander Selvage, 17 years old

The wind picks up the second I step through the front door of my house, a sudden gust lifting my hair up and sending it everywhere. Bits of blonde fly in my mouth and strands attack my eyes, causing me to nearly trip right down the little step leading out to the district.

"Watch yourself little brother," I hear Herculon's voice, and feel his giant hand smack me on the back. More footsteps behind me as the rest of my family step through to join us on the walk to the Square. I pull the final few strands and tuck them behind my ear, pretending not to feel the warmth rising to my cheeks and Herculon's giggling as he walks away from the rest of us. Jehan, my other brother, doesn't wait either and proceeds on ahead leaving me with my parents. Fun.

"Come on Ander, let's just get this over and done with."

I feel my father's hand on my shoulder and shrug it off. Everyone's so touchy today, I don't like it. I wish I could be with my friends and just roam about for a bit, turn up ridiculously late or something, this is all pretty stupid anyway. But no, reaping day is family time. Although I don't see Herculon or Jehan having to wait for us to catch up.

"No need for that," he sighs and I lead the way through the patch of mud that is our front garden, and out to the crowd heading for the "celebration."

My mother tries to make the tiniest advance on me, a soft pat on my shoulder, a smile when I look over at her, but it doesn't lighten my mood. If anything it further irritates me. I'm not embarrassed anymore to be out in public, but she's a reminder of why it all went to shit in the first place. I love her, but walking alongside her just brings it all back. The looks my way don't help either and I bite my lip to not curse, and keep my hands in my ripped pockets as to not do something stupid.

Tension is high amongst the district already on reaping day. The Peacekeepers would jump for joy at the opportunity to bring a baton across my cheek over the smallest of fights.

Today I have to just keep a cool head and pretend not to see eyes looking at me and fingers pointing. It's no secret that I look different with my feminine face and my long blonde hair. It's partly down to something just happening at birth I guess, I'm no doctor, but it didn't help with the way my mum brought me up all those years. The desire for a daughter was so strong I was her little doll... she shouldn't have done that.

It brings up emotions I'd rather not feel. I block out my parents shouting for me to come back as I push on forwards, jogging at a reasonable pace so as not to gain more attention to myself than I already have. Some people laugh, but the minute I make eye contact they shut up instantly. I'm much more confident than I used to be, it's no lie that I'll punch the living daylights out of anyone that tries to assert themselves over me, based on how masculine they think they are.

This reaping is just a get together of all the people in Eight, meaning all the bullies are in one place. But so are all the outcasts like me, like Coir, I admire his confidence in himself. He's partly why I am the way I am today I guess.

Some loud people push in the lines, leading past the tables and into the Square. I recognise the faces as the bullies and try my best to lay low a bit. A few girls giggle at me as I join behind them and one of them even winks. I look down at my feet and spend the time trying to think of anything but the people around me. It's hard though, all their voices seem to fight over one another to come out on top. I'd slam my hands over my ears but what's the point?

"Next."

I'm surprised over everything I can still make out the Peacekeeper's voice. He looks at me but through his visor I can't make out any expression, or any snigger that he might be trying to hide. I've had run ins with these guys before, but nothing too major. Just a quick tackle to stop me from beating someone up too much and then ordering me home. Maybe they sympathise with me and that's why my punishment isn't more severe. Or maybe I just bring about more fun for them because no one else gets into fights around here. I don't know. What I do know is that these needles bloody hurt, I try not to jump as it goes into my skin and he scans my blood.

I give him the coldest look I can and march on through. Up on stage, things seem to already be under way. Mayor Jones is unfolding the treaty and several peacekeepers are circling around looking for latecomers. I better get a move on then.

Some people get out of my way as I sidestep through the section to find a space. Others aren't so compliant and forcefully get in my way. Those guys don't last very long, I elbow some in the groin and others in the stomach. I'll pay for that later but they can't do much right now with every Peacekeeper in the district sporting a gun and being ever so close.

"It's about time you showed up," I smile slightly when I see Coir waving a hand over at me. I settle next to him, the guy on my other side keeping his eyes on the stage ahead.

"Couldn't be bothered to turn up early."

"Always the rebel."

He winks at me and looks to the stage as the escort walks to the centre. He says his name, funnily enough he doesn't seem that different to us lot. Maybe better dressed but no stupid makeup. I'm glad. Appearance means a whole lot to these sort of people, even in Eight it matters an awful lot. It's good to see someone at least not trying to overdress to impress us. If I wanted to do that I'd cut my hair.

"Hello District Eight, it's a privilege to be here with you all. It looks like it might rain soon so I think I'll get the reaping started straight away. Good luck to you all, oh the excitement." Still as annoying as you'd expect though.

"Ester Mill!"

The girl called up looks as average as ever. Nothing about her stands out, but I feel for her. Poor girl. No matter the ridicule I get in this district, I don't like to see people get killed for the Capitol's entertainment. They don't deserve that. When the escort seems pleased that she's settled he goes over to the boy's bowl.

I've never really thought I'd get reaped. It never seemed like it would ever happen. Coir looks as confident and happy as always. In someways I wish I was him, maybe inside I tell myself that I don't care what they say, but why would I fight back if I did? I do. I really do care.

The boy called out isn't me. Thankfully.

Mohair Trill, or whatever, actually smiles when he's up on stage. He doesn't look like he's trained secretly so something must be up. The escort seems pleased with him, more pleased than with Ester. I hate how they judge each tribute based on how they look and their stage presence.

"Woven Jones!"

Wow...

Even I didn't expect that. The Mayor stands up but a Peacekeeper has to hold him back, as his daughter skips up on the stage and waves at us all. Any sympathy I had is gone straight away. She shouldn't die but why wave? I heard she was stupid and arrogant but come on!

It doesn't settle after Woven's been reaped. Some people are whispering and others are shouting abuse up at the escort. The rich community sticks together, to see one of their own get reaped must be awful to watch. I barely hear the next name.

"Ander..." I look at Coir and see all colour gone from his face.

Oh... shit.

Everyone turns to face me. All eyes on me. I'm going into the Hunger Games. Me. I look around, maybe there's a way to escape. This isn't fair... I never took out tesserae or anything... why me?!

I give up trying to break free as Peacekeepers move in on my position. What's the point.

I walk up towards the stage, keeping my eyes locked on the reaping bowl. When I'm up there I ignore the looks everyone is giving me and do my best to keep the anger at bay.

If I'm going to die I'll go out in a fight. Mohair and Woven are still smiling. Ester looking blank and emotionless. Are we all fighters? Are we all willing to kill to just make it out alive? I am. I have to be. No matter the jokes and teasing, I want to return here. I have to return here; this district needs to see that just because I have long hair and a pretty face, I'm not something they can make fun of. Maybe the Hunger Games is the answer to that.

Ester Mill, 18 years old

Well, this sucks.

My hands and feet feel numb as my heart thumps slowly against my rib cage. It's a bit difficult to take in; everything sort of happened so fast. My name was called first. I'm a tribute in the Hunger Games, I can accept that, or I can at least try.

It's difficult though, to try not to see the future. What awaits me once I leave this room is a life I never thought I'd live. The finer side of everything awaits me after just one simple train ride, and then death. Fear. Pain. Sorrow. It'll all hit me eventually, I should be glad for the numbness washing through me and still staying as strong as ever.

I can't have made much of an impression, but then again I don't exactly care much in the slightest. I barely managed to hear over my own heartbeat resounding in my ears, the names of the other tributes. I saw some smiles. I saw some anger. It was all pretty much a blur, but those sort of emotions, a fire in the gut, an excited smile, those are the sort of things the Capitol will eat up. I wasn't special. I actually like it.

Staying in the background was never my forte. I never really used to understand the words 'be careful' because they never made sense to my young ears. Childish ignorance to the harsh world around us; that's what those I interacted with would say, when they realized what I was doing.

It's all been a mess since then. Previous ways of thinking torn apart at the seams, questions circling my mind about what is right and what is wrong. It's left my mind blank. It's difficult to see past the common perception of things nowadays. Coward at heart ladies and gentleman. Passionless and completely dull.

When the creaking of hinges reaches my ears, adding to the dull thump that I am currently hearing, I look up. This moment isn't one I ever thought I'd have to live through, it's not something I prepared for either, but here I am having to go through with it. I can't even cry. I don't know how I'm supposed to react.

Zara walks up to me first, my parents hanging back a bit as the door closes behind them. The pair of us are identical, sometimes our mother and father can't even tell their own children apart. If I'm going to miss anyone more than anything it's Zara. I feel something stir through the ever-growing numb sensation, I will miss her, I really will.

"You don't let them change you sis, alright. I've seen it you know. We both have. You stay true to yourself and your beliefs. I'll be watching and I can't see you change."

Change into what? Any form of change might be something I'd be willing to accept. Zara's more open minded than myself, letting her head get filled with outside nonsense and letting what others say sway her decisions. I don't do that. The things I do believe do not bend to the will of others and do not change for anything. Maybe, in a way, that means I won't be doing any changing whatsoever.

"They said that you were allowed something to take with you. I want you to have this Ester, wear it around your wrist or in your hair."

A blue ribbon is gently draped over her fingers. I've never seen it before, but I accept it with a half smile and a nod of my head.

"I'll wear it always," I say as I wrap it round my wrist and tie it with a little knot. I shake my hand to check whether it's loose but it's perfect. As I look back up, both my parents have stepped forwards and without any words, wrap their arms around me and pull me into a hug.

Zara is stuck in the middle, with no one talking in this room I can hear her trying to mask her crying. Please Zara, do not cry for me. I want to say something to make her feel better, anything to instil some kind of relief into her that I'll be okay. But I can't lie to my sister. Things aren't looking up, and if I wanted to I could delude myself with believing that I very well might make it out alive, and be back to return the ribbon and give them all another hug.

There is no point though. No point in lying, so I just let her cry into my dress and keep my chin rested gently on my father's arm.

For such an outspoken man he's awfully quiet, my mother not saying anything either. The silence is welcoming, it feels like it might even be helping reduce the inability to realize what I'm getting into. I know I'm going to be dead, but I don't feel fear or sadness or anything over this overwhelming fact. Is it a blessing that I'm not crumbling down into floods of tears and begging to not be forced to go? Or should I count it a curse that I'm struggling to feel the tiniest amount of human emotion, any emotion that would fit this kind of situation?

I don't know.

When the door is opened again, the hug is broken, I feel the wet patch soaking through my dress but I don't squirm. Zara wipes away the tears from her eyes and cheeks, my parents both say 'I love you,' and that's that. They disappear with the Peacekeeper's back being my last view, before the door closes.

I thread my finger through the underside of the ribbon, pull it up a bit, and twirl it. If by some miracle a wave of everything hits me and I can't bare the pain any longer, I will twirl the ribbon to remember Zara and what awaits me back at home. It's not much of a life, everything is just confusing, but it's still a life. Even I know that a life without much purpose is still better than death and the pain that goes before it.

The Peacekeeper returns finally, five minutes after he closed the door. I stand up obediently and follow him through to the outside. I look at everything as it flashes past me and take a deep breath.

Zara, mother, father; I will do all I can to get back to you. No matter the cost.

Skyfall by Adele

Author's Note: Time for a long author's note!

Two days ago I finally wrote up a proper schedule for this because it's summer, I am doing nothing, and I need these reapings done and out the way xD Every day (unless something gets in the way) I will be writing two POV's – so that's a chapter every two days :D It didn't exactly go to plan yesterday though since I was going to update then, I know excuses seem to come out my mouth literally with every single chapter but due to reasons I won't say without embarassing myself, I was in a lot of pain, so yeah I wasn't up to writing. But from tomorrow onwards, two POV's a day! With that in mind the reapings will be done soon. It's better for my sanity ;)

Also I want to thank people who bring up my annoying, comma-less sentences that seem to run on and on. In author's notes I don't really care but reading back over my work I can't believe I never spotted it. I'm beginning to work on it, this chapter will not be perfect because I've only just started to try and get better but hopefully, with time, you'll see some differences :)

Another thing (I have a lot to say this chapter). Some tributes I originally created, wanting to get this story up and running. One male from District Twelve has changed because someone submitted, one tribute that is mine I have already written but I won't say who that is, but the two District Eleven Males are still mine – I don't even have personalities for them, I picked random weaknesses and make it up when I get to them. So anyone, either authors who have a tribute or would like one, now's your chance! Please PM me and the first two will get to submit. I don't want my own tributes really, the only exception being the one I've already written. Oh and on the topic of tributes changing, Noam was never fully submitted due to certain reasons with the author, I now have a replacement submitted for one of the D9 males, so the blog has been updated!

Question time!

Out of these four, who is your favourite and why?

One final thing, previous chapters I've mentioned review or blah blah will happen and I feel awful. I won't say that. But I've noticed reviews have gone down considerably. Chapter 2 had about 30 something and the previous two have between 9 and 10. I'm not saying I am not grateful, thank you so much to those who do read and review! I won't force anyone to review and I will not threaten tributes anymore because I don't just decide on deaths based on who reviews. But you submitted to me and it would be nice to hear from you, even if its just a sentence. Thanks for reading, hopefully you'll see District Nine in two days :D