Reapings:
District Eight:
Ruben Van der Valt's POV:
Blood. Sweet, fragrant blood.
The smell tickled my nose and I chuckled to myself. I ran the cleared liquid over my forehand, savoring the feel of it as it colored my pale skin red. I wished it would stay, staining my arms with the memory of death.
I sighed. How I wished this had been human blood. I looked to the side of the chair, where the decapitated body of an orange cat lay, its intestines protruding from its stomach, its blood mingling with the dirt of the floor. I kicked it, seeing a little more blood come out. Once again, I let out a laugh at the joy it gave me.
Many people said I was psychotic for loving the feeling of blood and kill. I disagreed. People liked many bizarre things. Some liked clothes, some liked other people. Was it too strange that I liked blood?
I got up and stretched my arms above my head. I wiped my knife on my pants, loving the fact that it stained my pants red. Some vague thing tugged at the back of my head. It was something today, something important.
Of course! Today was Reaping day. The day when two kids would be selected to go into the Hunger Games and die pathetic deaths. I sighed again. Not one death in the Games was artistic. Most were straightforward, simply stabbing. If someone had an imagination, it would be a beheading. But nothing which caught my eye. Nothing that treated me to the beautiful sight of spilled blood.
I took off my half-torn shirt. I needed to go to the Reapings, so I might as well have gone wearing normal clothes. I took a look at my pants. The left leg was torn in half, exposing my leg from below the knee. The right leg was relatively normal. I decided to leave it be. I couldn't care less about what I looked. I grabbed a shirt off the dusty sofa which sat five feet from me. I couldn't remember the last time I had cleaned it, but I didn't care either. The shirt I had in my hand used to originally be of a white color, but the white had faded to a dull bleached gray. I slipped it over my head and ran my fingers through my long black hair. My hair fell to my mid-neck, brushing my skin. I barely cut it, and when I did, it was with a knife, which led to my hair being choppy and uneven.
District eight was as foreign to me as anything outside of Panem. I lived secluded from the entire district, just beyond the edge of the forest. I had some idea that our district specialized in clothes (or something like that) but that was all I knew about it. My earliest memory was that of my father murdering my mother, and hanging himself shortly afterwards. That had been when I was four. By some way or the other, I had ended up here, in this run-down house.
I strived on foods from the forest. The forest supplied me with ample meat, and when things got a tad dire, with ample vegetation. I contented myself in killing the pathetic animals that crawled the grounds of the vegetation, but my main liking was killing people.
Their screams, their fear. It was intoxicating and addicting. I'd made my first kill at the age of nine. It had been a five-year-old girl, who'd gotten hopelessly lost in the forest, and ended up in my clutches. Her pleas for help as I sliced up every part of her still rang through my ears, giving me a pleasure unknown to people who hadn't experienced this feeling.
Occasionally, some passerby would get lost in the forest. They'd be the newest addition to my collection. I ran my hand over the dozen bottles lined against the table. Each bottle contained the blood of a victim. Some had turned a strange shade of brown, but I didn't care. It still gave me satisfaction, knowing I had murdered twelve people in beautiful, artistic ways.
Right. I needed to get out of this place. The Reapings were going to start, and I didn't want to be late. I wanted to see the faces of the kids who would be killed in the arena. I wanted to gauge whether or not they would scream loud enough to appease me. I wanted to measure their capacity for taking blows before their cannon blew.
At eighteen, my name was in their quite a few times. I had taken out tessarae, because sometimes, I wanted food outside of the forest's provisions. I didn't really care much about the Games, just about the fact that they sometimes out up a good show. But of course, that was rare, and an eye-catching death was yet to come.
I didn't bother showering. I had done so before going out to kill the cat, which was just two hours ago. I liked keeping myself washed, but didn't bother doing so with my house. I opened the door, not wanting to waste any more valuable time, and shut it behind me. The forest greeted me with open arms. I saw a squirrel scurrying up the branches of a tree, and briefly considered satisfying the urge of gutting it. I shook my head. I could do so later. Right now, I had to be present for the darned Reapings.
Chuckling once more as I pictured the look on the squirrel's face when I killed it, I set towards the direction of the Reaping Square. I would need to ask directions, in order to get there, due to not knowing one single thing about my district. But all the boredom of the Reapings would pay off when I came back.
A squirrel was waiting for me…
Bellona Irving's POV:
"Come on Bellona, you can do better than that!" My father urged, as I sparred with him. Letting out a low growl, I pushed harder, letting my makeshift sword graze the right side of his arm. He laughed. "That's what I'm talking about!"
I grinned. "So, Dad. You think I'm gonna win this thing?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. The question had become something of a joke in our household. My father let out a bellowing laugh. "Win it? Those careers are going to wish they were as good as you!"
"Oh honestly Ronan, you need to stop. She'll become so full of herself, it's unimaginable! Enough with the praise!" My mother said, smirking. I knew she was kidding, of course, she'd always reprimand my father for praising me too much. Though I couldn't say I minded it.
My parents were known throughout District Eight. Caspian Irving was the victor of the forty-forth hunger Games, and my mother, Michelle had won exactly two years after that. They'd met at the victor's village. And fell in love. And all that bull.
My parents weren't always about the games. There used to be a time when my mother was a sweet little girl. But after winning the Games, they had been pampered by the Capitol. They got everything they'd ever asked for. And soon, so would I.
I, being the daughter of two victors, was obviously going to volunteer. I'd just been biding my time, training every day with my parents, waiting for the moment when I turned eighteen. And now that I had, I couldn't wait to get myself into the Games. Eight hadn't had a victor since Tony Clouds won the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games. And that was simply by running away whenever someone got within fifty meters. Bor-ing.
"Get ready, already! We want you to be perfect for your big day, don't we?" my mother said, ruffling my hair. I rolled my eyes. "Mom, I'm going to volunteer for the Hunger Games, not participate in a fashion show."
Nevertheless, I ran up to my room, and threw on a spaghetti strapped gray dress and a jade-green necklace. I smirked to myself. Being the daughter of two former victors had its perks. Sure, I didn't have friends. Sure my relations had been for show. But every time I thought about the glory of winning the Games and living in a lavish house of my own, other thoughts went clear out of my mind.
I mean, usually, in outer districts, no one volunteered. There had been a crazy girl from Ten last year, but she'd been taken out quickly by the female tribute from Seven. I sniggered. I wasn't going to let that happen to me. I would be winning these games.
People feared the Games, thinking they were some form of torture. For me though, the true motive behind the Games was clear. They weeded out the weak and gave the glory to deserving people like myself. The Capitol may have been too frivolous about the whole thing, but they must've had some true geniuses in their midst if they thought up of this.
I flew down the stairs and wasted no time as the three of us shuffled out of our house. The reaping square was only a five minute walk from our place, so we refrained from taking the car. I could feel adrenaline coursing through my entire being as I took each step. Each stride forward took me a step closer to my target of winning the Games. I barely noticed when we reached the Square.
I quickly joined the eighteen-year-old girl's section. I was just in time. Our escort Mist walked up to the stage her blue gown falling in layers of fabric behind her. She didn't waste time. She used to be real cheerful and peppy, but over the years, she'd become dull and boring. She didn't bother giving a speech.
"Ladies first, huh?" She said. She walked over to the girl's bowl. I tensed, feeling every nerve in my body scream with anticipation. The moment was finally here!
"Abigail Winfred!"
My hand shot up in the air. "I volunteer!"
A collective gasp could be heard the rippling through the audience. A girl had started making her way to the stands from the fifteen-year-old section, crying. Her tears had stopped and she looked at me with big green eyes. I snickered. How pathetic.
Calming my excited nerves, I walked up to the stage with a confident step in my stride. As I made my way over to Mist, I caught sight of the camera and smiled. I waved at it, which earned me a confused look from Mist. She held out the mic to me.
"May I know the name of this young brave lady?" She asked, obviously happy to have some drama. I smirked. "You may already know it. You already know my parents of course. My name's Bellona Irving, and I can promise the whole of Panem that I won't let down the name of the Irving family!" I exclaimed. Mist laughed.
"I'm sure you won't." She patted my back. She made her way over to the boys' bowl and fished out a card.
"Ruben Van der Valt!"
My eyes scanned the crowd for my would-be opponent. I could see some agitation in the eighteen-year-old section. A tall boy stumbled out as though he'd been pushed. He turned to glare at the person with a look that sent goosebumps up my arms. Something about his gaze was unsettling. He looked, unbalanced, maybe even insane.
He caught himself and grinned, as though he'd just realized something pleasant. He walked up to the stage and stood beside Mist. He was at least six foot tall, with muscular arms and long black hair. I knew immediately that he was a threat.
"You want to say something?" Mist asked, seemingly disappointed by the lack of drama. The boy took the mic and spoke in a hoarse, creepy voice.
"All I'm gonna say is that Panem will get the treat of seeing some truly masterpiece deaths this Hunger Games."
I grinned. So, my District partner had some spunk. He was obviously useful; I'd just have to find a way to manipulate him into helping me. The two of us shook hands, and the moment we did, I could feel his eyes boring into me, as though gauging how much I'd scream if he attacked me.
As we were led into the Justice building, I thought about him. He didn't seem like the sharpest twig in the lot, but had a lot of brutality to offer. I could use that. A plan had already started forming itself in my mind. I couldn't wait to implement it!
My good-byes included only my parents, of course. My mother offered me a necklace as my token, beaming with pride. I refused her, pushing her hand away. "Emotional value is too overrated." I said. Her smile grew wider.
"Oh Bellona, I'm sure you're going to show all of them! Remember to give them a good show during personal training. And of course, don't forget. You have to get in with the careers." She said. My father laughed.
"Oh, Panem is in for a treat!" he exclaimed. The two of them gave me quick hugs before walking out the door. I felt glad. I'd been hoping they didn't get all mushy-mushy. I needed my mind clear. I could find my way into the career alliance, and then I'd make their very alliance fall apart.
I smirked again. Panem was indeed about to be served a treat.
Ruben Van der Valt's POV:
I could barely control my laughter. Every inch of my body screamed out of elation. I could picture each one of them. Each tribute as they screamed as I pulled out their blood, drop by drop. It wasn't the killing that fascinated me. It was the pain of the tributes. Every scream was like honey to my ears.
It had been a stroke of luck, getting Reaped. My District partner seemed fiery and confident. She would probably be ruthless too, being the daughter of victors. I chuckled. District Eight had an interesting duo this year.
I took in a deep breath. I couldn't wait until the Games started. I curled my fingers, trying to get the feeling of someone's neck as I squeezed the life out of them. It wouldn't be long before I was known as Ruben Van der Valt: the artist who painted his masterpieces in beautiful, red, blood.
~.~.~.~.
A/N: I know, Ruben's goodbye is short. But that's how the creator wanted it. honestly, it couldn't have been very long, seeing to the fact that he doesn't have all that many friends. *cough* any friends *cough*
Thank you to minhosgirl and WGGTD1916 for these amazing tributes! I'll have a lot of fun writing them! they certainly are different!
Right. So, there are a few things I wanted to talk about. Firstly, I've been asked quite a few times how I'm going to choose the victor, and I think it's time I give y'all the answer.
The victor will be chosen based on quite a few things. I will put up a poll after the Reapings, because I obviously wouldn't want an un-popular person to win. I will also judge based on the abilities and weaknesses of the tributes. Also, your reviews will help me gauge the popularity of the tributes. The frequency of your review does affect the chances of your tribute's survival, but it isn't the main criterion. Hope that clears stuff up! :)
Also, do you guys want me to ask questions at the end of the author's note? Should I do the questions here and replies by PM, or replies here and no questions? Do tell me! :)
Oh and if I haven't already mentioned this, I'm completely absolutely open to requests and suggestions. I'm always ready for advice; I am a new author after all. Anytime you wanna tell me sum'n, feel free to send a PM!
Reply time!
To lifelong potterhead: Well, I can't really say now what will happen in the Games, but I'm glad you liked her! And the suggestion was cool (though again, I can't say what I'll be doing. The last thing I need is to spoil my own story, lol XD) and don't worry! Suggestions are more than welcome!
To Reader Castellan: Lol, even I liked his hair! I had a laugh myself when I wrote about Nick's joke on the stage. Dunno how I thought of that. On a side note, I actually didn't notice the ref of Krista's last name! The only ones I thought I made were Matt and Flint! Hehe. ;)
To Santiago. Poncini20: I certainly hope I don't make her fall into a cliché, she really is an amazing character! Also, as you requested, here was D8! Hope it was good! Thank you so much for the chart, it helped me understand your opinion of the tributes a lot! :)
To Josephm611: I'll be frank with you, Absalom deserved justice. He is an amazing character, and I sure hope I can write him well as the story progresses! I'll be sure to keep your advice in mind for the future chapters! As for Nick, I respect your opinion, and strong opinions are perfectly welcome, along with critique!
To Embers to Ashes: I agree, it was sad. I felt sad myself. :( Thank you so much for the compliment and I really hope you liked this chapter too! :)
To Mystical Pine Forest: Thanks! I'll try my best not to make her cliché! And the creator of Absalom deserves some serious credit for thinking up of so many details, eh? I've already started loving your SYOT and cannot wait for an update! It's amazing! :)
To MidnightRaven: Well, Nick is Nick. I mean, she volunteered for the Games and her comment was "the cow says moo". I myself didn't catch the Alice in Wonderland reference, and it surprised me that you did! :D And I initially thought Nick was cliché too, but when I read her reason, it seemed more… reasonable. Lol. XD
To AgentWriter: Thank you! I'm so glad you liked Nick! I'll admit, I'm quite proud of myself for thinking up of her response! :P And her reason for volunteering was really touching, eh? I'm so glad you liked the D7 tributes, I liked them too! And I hope the A/N at the beginning of the A/N (?) cleared up your question!
To Sally the Lioness: I'm so happy you liked them! And it's okay! I made two references, one of whch was Matt, and the other was Nick's brother Flint(which is Scott's name in PO5). As pointed out by Reader Castellan, I made another one in Krista's last name Adams! XD
To deny: Thank you! I loved the characters as well! Hope this is good!
To WGGTD1916: Oh it's okay! Don't worry! I'm so glad I wrote Nick well; she deserves Justice! Glad you liked Absalom! Hope this update was good! ;)
To maliceismyname: I'm so happy that you guys liked Nick's… response. Nick and Absalom are amazing characters and I'm so glad you liked them! I respect your opinion! Thank you so much and I hope you like this! :)
Alrighty! I can't deny going a tad ecstatic whenever I see any increase in number of favs, follows, reviews or all three! It makes me so happy! I hope you guys enjoyed the chappie! Thanks for the AMAZING reviews! I think I've gone around telling literally everyone that my story crossed 115 reviews!
See y'all next time! :)