A/N: I sincerly apologize for the long wait, I've been having some life issues. Anyway, it's good to be back, and hopefully I can finnish the rest of the reaping chapters without any more hiccups. :)

Moving on to District Eight!

A special thank-you to Percabeth1300 for the District Eight female, and charlieal12 for the District Eight male.

Question of the Chapter: After eight chapters of this, I'm pretty sure you all know what the question is by now.

~Ashes

District Eight

Nathania "Nat" Chambers, 15

With a content smile, Nat snipped the final string, finishing the tapestry.

She held it up, letting the sunlight filter through. It bathed the entire tapestry in a warm yellow glow, illuminating the snowy white bird that was taking flight.

Wouldn't that be so nice? To just fly away?

"Nat!" her father's barking voice startled her, and she quickly shoved the tapestry down under her bed. Her dad wasn't fond of anything that didn't make them money, and as far as he was concerned, tapestries fell into that category. Nat should've been making clothes instead, something that actually sold in the Capitol.

"Coming!" Nat called back, hopping down the stairs.

Her brothers were already sitting on the couch in the living room, dressed immaculately in their silken suits and ties.

Her father scrutinized her with a frown. "You don't look ready for the reaping."

Nat blinked. "What?"

"The reaping," her father repeated. "It's today."

"Oh." Nat felt heavy dread settle in the pit of her stomach. She always tried to make the best of things, but the reaping was one of those things that was just impossible to make the best of.

"Did you forget, Nat?" Ray, her younger brother asked.

"Yes, actually," she muttered sheepishly.

"Forget the reaping? Are you serious?" Jon asked incredulously. Nat shot him a frustrated look. He knew she was absentminded. He shouldn't be surprised.

Of course he wouldn't forget the reaping, because it was his last year.

And anyway, he was Mr. Perfect. No mistakes. No slipups.

It got really annoying sometimes.

"Well, you'd better go get dressed, then," her father said. He sounded exasperated, and Nat could already feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She worked so hard to please him, but of course, she'd never be as good as perfect Jon.

Nat stared at the mirror, sighing. Her hair just refused to listen to her. She'd tried to style it every way known to man, but there was always something wrong. She currently had it in a bun, but there was one strand that stuck out like a tail.

She was extremely tempted to just pull the mess into her usual ponytail and be done with it, but her father probably wouldn't approve.

Nat yanked out the elastic, frustrated. Of course, this was no surprise. Her hair never listened to her. It curled and crimped in every direction, brown strands shooting out from her head like they were attracted by static electricity. Nat tucked a piece of blonde hair back behind her ear. Streaks of blonde had appeared in her hair over the summer, but now that it was starting to cool down, they looked out of place.

"Hey!" a male voice called.

Nat jumped, startled. The yell had come from outside, but nobody in their right mind would be outside when the rain was pouring so hard. The other girls were probably freaking out about standing at the reaping in the rain, with their makeup getting ruined, but Nat loved the rain, the feel of the cool drops on her face. That's why she kept her window open.

"Nat!" the voice called again, and this time, she recognized it. A smile split across her face. Of course Daeson would be outside in this weather. After all, he wasn't in his right mind.

She leaned out her window, ignoring the rain that immediately started soaking through her hair. It wasn't ruining anything, anyway.

"Hey, Daeson." she grinned at him. "Enjoying the rain?"

"Absolutely." he held his arms up, and he looked so ridiculous with the rain dripping down his shaggy blonde hair that she just had to laugh.

Daeson laughed, too. "Great day for the reaping, huh?"

"Just wonderful." Nat put a finger to her chin. "Too bad we don't have one of those escorts who puts makeup on layer after layer. I'd like to see it all wash off."

Daeson chuckled. "That would be hilarious. But I wouldn't trade Librae for anyone else. She's awesome."

Nat nodded. She'd watched the footage of the all the reapings last year, and both her and Daeson had agreed on the fact that their escort, Librae Riffa, was definitely the most human one.

"So, what's up?" Daeson asked.

Nat gestured to her hair. "Trying to make something out of this mess that won't burn out people's eyes."

He laughed. "Well, I'm headed to the reaping."

She raised her eyebrows, glancing down at his dirty trousers and coat that was missing a button. Not to mention it was all soaked. "In that?"

"If I wear something nice, it'll just get ruined by the rain. A waste of money."

"It's called an umbrella."

"Umbrellas are for suckers."

Nat laughed. "Whatever you say."

"Are you coming?" Daeson smiled up at her. "Or are you going to put on an expensive dress and ruin it by tromping through puddles?"

Nat pursed her lips. She already felt the familiar anxious tug in the pit of her stomach, the one that told her to make sure she made the right decision, the one that was constantly second-guessing herself. What would her dad say? Then again, what would he say if she ruined an expensive dress?

She grabbed her worn brown jacket. Daeson was right; umbrellas were for suckers. She'd just keep out of her dad's sight. Simple.

It wasn't like she was going to get reaped.

Nile Baize, 17

The crowd of boys snickered as Nile got closer, and he could hear their whispers and mutters, but Nile really didn't care.

He was used to it by now, anyway.

They dispersed as he passed them, giving Nile a wide berth, like he was contagious. It wasn't like they could catch homosexuality. Nile kept his eyes straight ahead, away from their faces. It didn't matter what they thought of him. They were stupid and superficial, like the Capitol.

Which was kind of funny, because the Capitol had nothing against gay people. Unlike the districts, apparently.

Nile slid his ID card through the reader, then let it scan his pupil. There was a muted click as the door swung open, and he stepped inside. Conveyor belts crept towards the other wall, which was just one huge garage door. A hovercraft was parked outside, and workers were stacking the boxes onto it, dressed in rain jackets and shielding the cargo from the droplets.

Nile figured the weather was somehow reflective of the mood everyone was in today.

Reaping day.

Most districts gave the workers at least half a day off on reaping day, but not Eight. Boxes still had to be stacked, clothes still had to be sewn. After all, textiles was probably one of, if not the, biggest industry in the Capitol.

Nile took his place behind one of the conveyor belts, pulling on a raincoat and reliving a blonde-haired woman who gave him a kind smile.

There were two reasons why Nile even bothered with a job like this when he didn't really need the money. One, his mother felt working weekends here was good "socialization", and two, because the only person who Nile would even consider as somewhat of a friend was his boss, Big C.

Nile stepped into the rain, squinting his eyes. It really was pouring out. Or, 'raining cats and dogs', as the expression in the Capitol went. The wind whipped his rain jacket against his leg, and he heaved his box onto the hovercraft. For a second, Nile considered the possibility that the slips in the reaping bowl would be soaked through and impossible to read, and a small smile danced on his lips.

"What're you smilin' 'bout, Baize?" a voice demanded.

Almost as if he had sensed Nile's momentary happiness, Big C walked into the room.

There was a reason they called him Big C. He was tall and broad, with a shiny bald head. He towered over everyone and had a semi-permanent scowl on his face.

His real name was actually Cotton. It was quite a lot less intimidating, and frankly, ridiculous. It also annoyed the hell out of him.

"Just thinking about the possibility of this year's reaping getting canceled, Cotton."

Big C's scowl deepened. "I wouldn't count on it. A little rain ain't stopping them."

Nile sighed. "I know."

"Baize, why don't you go on and take off your rain jacket? Kaiden here can cover for you." Kaiden, who was working beside Nile, gave him a dark look. Nile frowned at him. Nile had covered for him more than once, partly because he was quite cute. Big C continued, "I've got a surprise for you."

Nile was caught off guard. "A surprise?"

A hint of a smile crossed Big C's face, and several workers stopped to stare. "Yep. Follow me, Baize."

Uncertainetly, Nile peeled off his rain coat and hung it up on the hanger, trailing behind Big C. The man led Nile to his office, and as soon as Nile passed through the doorway, he was bombarded by a woman dressed in a rainbow colored patchwork dress, looking extremely out of place in the dreary factory as she pulled him into a hug.

Nile smiled against the woman's shoulder. "Hi, Mom."

Intarsia pulled back to look at him, her lips curved into a smile. She looked quite a lot like him, the two of them sharing the same straight black hair and angular jawline.

She was only home for eight months a year, plus the day of the reaping. The Capitol wasn't fond of letting their designers loose at such an important time of year, but she always insisted. Intarsia Baize was a big name in the Capitol, one of their most well-known designers.

"Look what I have for you!" Intarisa thrust out a rectangular package, wrapped in shimmery Capitol wrapping paper and topped with an oversized pink bow.

Nile raised an eyebrow, and Intarsia shook her head. "Don't mind the peculiar packaging. It's the Capitol, you know."

He took it hesitantly, and as soon as he pulled off the bow, the paper disintegrated, leaving behind a good-sized book.

Nile brightened immediately. It was the Phantom of the Opera, a book he'd read so many times that his current copy was falling apart. He loved music books, particularily something called Broadway. He also enjoyed psychology books as well.

"You always know what I like Mom," Nile said, giving her a warm smile. "Thank you."

Intarisa hugged him again, her arms gentle and familiar. "You're welcome, Nile. Only two more years of this, and then you're free to come live with me in the Capitol."

She was right. Just one more year after this, and then Nile could leave behind this godforsaken district. It wasn't like the Capitol was heaven on earth, either, but no matter how annoying their citizens were, they had provided Nile's mother with a job, and so Nile was glad they existed.

Reaping

"Hello everyone!" Librae waved to the crowd, a small smile on her face. Her Capitol accent was slight, barely noticable. She had grown up here in Eight, after all. Her father had started the Riffa shoe line, so popular that they had been relocated to the Capitol after Librae's eighteenth birthday.

The crowd was a mass of multi-colored umbrellas, girls complaining as their dresses got splashed on, and people yelling as the wind whipped their umbrellas backwards. The rain was slanting heavily, but the reaping bowl was completely dry, the water vaporizing with a hiss as it got close to it, one of the Capitol's technologies. A miserable-looking citizen was holding an umbrella over Librae's head.

"The weather sure is reflective of everyone's mood today, isn't it?" she asked.

There were some chuckles from the crowd, and somebody whooped. The peacekeepers straightened their posture, guns at the ready, and Librae rolled her eyes.

This was only her second year as an escort, but she was already well-loved. She had hair cropped close to her scalp, and big brown eyes. She had no surges and wore no makeup but for a bit of eyeliner. She was dressed rather casually as well, and could almost pass for a district citizen.

"And now, please bear with us as we watch the video of the ever so dreadful Dark Ages." Her sarcasm was heavy, and when the crowd groaned, she sighed, as if to say, I know, I know.

After the video, Librae announced the mayor, with the same amount of sarcasm, and Mayor Cliffe took to the stage, a soaked-through citizen following in his wake and holding an umbrella over his head.

The Mayor started down the list, and when her name was reached, Millicent Barian, the mentor and victor of the 82nd Games, snapped her head up, her eyes wide, as if she wasn't sure where she was. She looked as if she was about to take off running, but the lady beside her holding the umbrella tapped her shoulder - which made her jump about a foot in the air - and whispered something in her ear.

She seemed to relax slightly. Millicent had gone into her Games at thirteen, young enough that nobody had expected her to survive, but she did. She had allied with her District partner, one of the strongest males in her Games, who had protected her. The Careers had come after them in the end, in the middle of the night, and killed her partner, resulting in her permanent jumpiness. She had been chased onto ice, which supported her, but cracked and caved under the weight of the Careers, killing them.

"Alright, now onto everyone's least favorite part." Librae gave the crowd a sad smile. "The reaping!"

Groans from the crowd.

She clapped her hands together, her lips pursed. "Onto the ladies."

Librae stuck her hand into the bowl and promptly pulled it out, as if it were burning her.

"Okay," she sighed. "And the female tribute of the 99th annual Hunger Games is... Nathania Chambers!"

There was complete and utter silence for a few minutes, and Librae looked as if she was about to repeat the name, but then a slim girl stepped out of the fifteen-year-old section.

Her brown hair had streaks of blonde in it, leftover from summer, and it curled and crimped in a misshapen halo around her head. She was dressed in an old brown jacket and black pants, and she was completely soaked through.

The crowd stared at her as she passed, and a blush crept over her face. She kept her eyes straight ahead, and her head held high, in the way that people do when they're terrified and trying not to show it.

She stepped onto the stage, raindrops dripping down her eyelashes, and somehow managed to conjure up a faint smile.

Librae looked highly uncomfortable - this was her least favorite part of being an escort - and stuck her hand into the boys' bowl, once again snatching back her hand as if she'd been burned.

"Um... Nile Baize!"

Once again, silence. Some people mused over the fact that the name 'Baize' sounded oddly familiar.

A tan, good-looking guy with clean features stepped out of the seventeen-year-old section. He stared his trek to the stage, and was quickly interrupted by a woman's screeching. She shot out from the crowd, and peacekeepers grabbed her by the waist, trying to avoid her clawing hands. She was dressed quite strangely, not in the usual Eight fashion, but in a multi-colored patchwork dress.

"No!" she screamed. "No! You can't! I'm Intarsia Baize! That's my son!"

Nile winced, and the peacekeepers dragged her back into the crowd. People stared at him with new eyes as he passed. So this was Intarsia Baize's son.

He stepped up to the stage, his face flat. Librae looked as if she wanted to dig herself a hole and crawl in and never come back out.

"Great..." she muttered, her voice devoid of all enthusiasm. "Your tributes, everyone..."

Nile turned to shake Nathania's hand, and then they were led away.