Reapings:

District Eight:

Asita Chaya's POV:

I opened my eyes, and realized the sun was just peaking through the blinds. I steadily rose myself out of bed, and quickly scampered to the nearby bathroom. I snatched my outfit from the previous day off the floor, and quietly shut the bathroom door behind me.

I slipped into my pale green dress, and next slipped my favorite black cotton jacket over the top. I thrust my feet into my boots, and I walk over to the bathroom mirror.

"Damn it, where is my makeup," I muttered to myself. Eventually, I found it underneath all of his toiletries, and I quickly reapplied the makeup that had been smudged from last night. I felt a tear staring to brim in my right eye, and I quickly wiped it away.

I was the whore of District Eight.

Almost every single person in this District knew who I was. Every District had their prostitutes. Some were more experienced than others. Heck, there were prostitutes that had been doing this for decades, while I had only been doing this for a couple years.

However, there were several things that set me apart from the other prostitutes of this District. I used to be malnourished, but ever since I started this gig I had gotten enough food to keep a lean figure, but not a figure that made me look like a refugee. Two, the one promise I made to any buyer was that I would be anything he wanted.

Some nights, I was the aggressive temptress. Other nights, I was the meek little girl. Exotic dancer, good girl gone bad, and even pretending to be certain people, I had done it all. All it took was the right cosmetics, outfits and wigs that I had either made or found in dumpsters, and a good job of acting.

Three, I was beautiful. I wasn't going to stand here and say that I was the most beautiful girl in the District, because I wasn't, but I was the most different. Most pretty girls in this District were like porcelain dolls. They had pale skin, brittle light hair, and hollow expressions. I had fairly dark skin, extremely dark, thick hair, and I was full of life. Well, at least that's how I acted.

I stepped out of the bathroom, and looked at the sleeping figure. My customer last night was actually one of my more good looking customers. You see, most of my customers were extremely old, ugly, or creepy. Otherwise, why would you have to hire a prostitute?

However, this one was only middle aged, and was fairly good looking. You probably are wondering why he would hire me for my services then. In fact, I was startled myself the first time.

And by the first time, I mean he was my first customer ever. When I was fourteen, my father was killed. To this day I don't know why, but he broke some law involving the Peacekeepers. Maybe he was a rebel in disguise, or perhaps he just got drunk one night and insulted a Peacekeeper. The point is, they killed him, which left me to fend for my younger siblings. My mother… well, she died when she gave birth to my youngest sibling. I remember a lot of things about her, but I tend to block her and my father from my mind whenever possible. When bad things happen to me, I just block out the bad memories, and move on with my life.

Anyways, I begged for money for a little bit over a year. My other brother who was twelve at the time when I was fourteen watched the other children and did odd jobs for money. We were determined not to go to a community home. They would have separated us as soon as we got there, and we would rather be dead than be away from each other. I was taught to stick with your family until the end, since at the end that's all you have.

Long story short, we almost starved to death. Until Mr. Right here picked me out. He was drunk and offered me a handful of money to 'do the deed'. Under normal circumstances, I would have said hell no and slapped him across the face. However, my starving sibling popped into my mind, and I practically tackled him to the ground right there and then.

At first, I hated it. I absolutely abhorred every touch. Every kiss was disgusting. Then, over the weeks, I started to like it. After a few months, I even began to love it. In fact, I still love it. Sex is fun. Sure, sometimes the guys are ugly and smell bad, but then other times you get some pretty decently good looking customers and you learn to enjoy yourself.

Don't you start judging me too. Would you rather me say 'woe is me, my life sucks! I have no choice but to sleep with men to feed my siblings!' Well, too bad, because that's not the case. I adapted to survive, because that's what I am. I'm a survivor.

Anyways, I strayed from the topic of my story quite a bit. The reason Mr. Right here chose me was because I looked like his dead wife. She apparently died two years ago in some tragic accident. Long story short, he pretends I'm her when we're in bed. I personally don't mind. The only awkward part for me is when he screams out 'Marissa'. My name is Asita, idiot, learn to get it right eventually.

I heard him let out a low growl, and he sat right up in bed. I stood casually against the door frame, and ran my eyes up and down his chest.

"Sleep well?" I asked innocently.

"What do you think," he grumbled.

"I think I tired you out quite a bit. It's Reaping Day, remember? You have to get to the town square early." I laughed.

He let out a low groan, and walked over to his dresser. I rolled my eyes, and threw the proper clothes at him. He was so stupid when he was tired.

"You have to be in uniform, Mr. Peacekeeper," I mocked.

"Are you ever going to call me by my proper name, instead of Mr. Something?" he complained.

I walked up behind him and put my lips close to his ear. "Maybe you'll just have to enforce it by pounding it into me," I whispered seductively.

I felt a shiver run through his body, and I let out a quiet giggle. Suddenly, my flirty, outgoing demeanor left my features. "In all seriousness, I need to go as well and help my siblings. Where's my money?"

"Over on the kitchen table," he yawned.

I walked over to the table, and picked up the money. I counted, and realized that there was more than he usually paid me. Well, I certainly wasn't going to question it. This was enough to not only feed us for a week, but also get some new material to make clothes for my siblings and I. I swear, Peacekeepers have more money than they know how to spend if they give bonuses to struggling prostitutes.

"See you later, Mr. Moneybags," I yelled as I walked out the door.

I heard him let out a growl of argument right when I slammed the door shut. At first, I tried to stay in the shadows as I walked home, but soon I could hear everyone's whispers.

"Looks like she screwed another one…"

"I bet she screwed your father, Max…"

"What a slut…"

I rolled my eyes, and let a frown grace my face. The sad thing was that half of the people that insulted me had been my customers at one point in the past few years. Finally, I decided I wasn't hiding from anyone, and I walked right into the middle of the stone path. I swayed my hips extra hard, and made sure to wave at everyone. I wasn't going to let ignorant pigs like them bring me down.

I finally made it home in one piece, and I tip toed in. As soon as I saw everyone was up and almost ready, I stopped trying to sneak about and walked right up to my younger brother, Aaron.

He was fifteen years old, and he tried to be the man of the household. He actually had a 'presentable' job at one of the factories, and he was fairly well liked. Plus, he also had grown into quite the looker. He didn't approve of my 'job', but it was what got most of the food on the table. His income would only be able to feed two of us maybe if that was our only source of money.

"Did everyone already eat?" I asked.

"Yeah, we were just waiting for you. Do you need some food?" Aaron asked.

"No, I'm not hungry anyways," I lied. Of course I was hungry, but to was better if I only ate twice a day. It was less money spent on food, and it kept me thinner. "Just let me go change."

I quickly walked into the bathroom, and started going through my piles of clothes. We lived in a one bedroom, two bathroom shack. Aaron and my brother tended to sleep in the bath tubs, which we never used since we didn't have enough money to buy running water, and my little sister slept on the couch. When I did sleep at home, which was rarely, I just shared the couch with her.

I finally settled on a longer green dress, and I slipped into it. It was one of my finer dresses, but it still had a slit in it on the right side that went up to my mid thigh. I decided to not wear my jacket or boots, and just stick with the dress and heels.

I stepped out of the bathroom, and made sure each of my siblings were dressed correctly. My other brother, Brock, was twelve and extremely energetic. This was his first reaping, and I even managed to find a fairly new tie in a second shop for him to wear. It wasn't straight, of course, and I quickly fixed that before moving on to my five year old sister, Daisy.

She was the mistake. I loved her dearly, but still she is what killed mom technically. I didn't blame her, but sometimes it felt like Aaron did. I picked up Daisy, and quickly fixed the bow on the back of her red dress. I grabbed the keys, and ushered everyone out the door. I locked it up tight, and we made our way towards the town square. This time, people were quieter with what they said about me. Whenever my brother was around, people stopped gossiping for two reasons. One, a good handful of people genuinely liked him. Two, let's just say anytime he heard someone disrespect me, they went home with a broken something.

We made it to the town square in record time, and we quickly signed in. I took out a few tesserae, but not enough that it would affect the tide of the reaping. Some kids took out five times as much as I did every year! They would surely get picked over me. Plus, I just couldn't get reaped. If I was gone… I just couldn't imagine what would happen to my siblings…

My brothers stepped into their sections, and I carried Daisy in with me to the seventeen year old section. I had no friends to hold her while I waited. I just held her, and tried to get her to stop babbling and drawing attention to us. The snickered and laughed at me, but I just ignored them. They could just go burn in hell for all I cared.

I looked over at this year's mentors. Last year, our only living victor, Raylin, went completely crazy. He poured gasoline everywhere, and lit everything on fire while throwing some sort of homemade bombs. He was screaming that he was saving us all from the Hunger Games. I just remember running away from him desperately trying to find Brock and Daisy, while hoping Aaron had made it away.

He was shot down by the Peacekeepers, and was replaced with victors from District Two. This year, our mentors were going to be two people from District One. I remembered seeing the woman, Agatha, on television quite a bit. She had been mentoring for decades, which was a good sign for our tributes this year. The male mentor was named Clinton, and he was extremely attractive. Even though I knew he must be at least in his thirties, I couldn't help but think he was my age. Dang, some people were just not affected by time.

Last year's escort also died in the fire, and she was replaced with the old District Ten escort, Muffy. Muffy was extremely… bubbly. She was wearing a short red dress that was to die for, and her blonde hair looked completely natural. Unlike most escorts, she didn't seem to change herself that much. She was naturally pretty, and she knew how to work it. Why change something when you know it already works?

"I am so excited to be a part of this District this year! You don't know how pleased I am to get to work with whoever these lovely tributes will be! Time to start with the ladies!" Muffy smiled.

She dug around in her Reaping ball, and I saw her grasp the life of one unsuspecting girl.

"Asita Chaya!"

That unsuspecting girl was me.

I felt my face turn into a mask of complete and utter astonishment. I had about two seconds before the cameras locked on to me. I quickly looked around for some place to put Daisy. I saw Brock fighting his way through the fifteen year olds, and he raced through the sixteen year olds. I quickly handed Daisy over to him as I heard Muffy yell out my name for the third time.

However, Daisy refused to let go of the neckline of my dress. "Don't go Sissy! Don't go!" Daisy cried out.

"I don't get a choice, dear," I whispered as I thought about what they were going to do without me. I just prayed they wouldn't starve… Perhaps they should go to a community home…

Finally, Daisy let go, and I wiped a tear that was beginning to trickle down my face. I spread a fake smile across my face, and began walking towards the stage. The game started now. Not on the train, and certainly not during the Chariot Rides. No, it started the second your name was called out.

I had to make an impression, and the impression I was going to make was confident. Confident tributes got sponsors. Beautiful tributes got sponsors. Confident, beautiful tributes got plenty of sponsors.

"Right here, Muffy!" I yelled out as I sashayed to the stage. I could hear the mixture of reactions from the crowd. Some were obviously happy to see me go. Others seemed to be affected by my goodbye with my little sister. Whatever the case, they didn't matter anymore. The Capital was my prime audience.

Muffy asked for volunteers, and of course there were none. I shifted my stance so that my right leg popped fully out of the slit, exposing my long, tan, lean leg. I batted my dark brown eyes at the camera, and kept my confident smile across my face. Last year, there were two pretty tributes that didn't use it right. Rouge, the victor, didn't use hers at all, and only gained sponsors because she was beautiful. However, she didn't gain any alliances from it, nor did she use it to enchant the Capital. Olivia wasn't the most pretty, but she overused hers. She acted like a complete slut, and threw herself at every guy. I was going to be the perfect mixture of both of them. I was going to use my attitude and my looks to gain sponsors, while also using it to gain an ally. A male ally.

Simply put, I would find the strongest, most reliable male tribute, and make him fall in love with me. Or, at least offer my body in exchange for protection. I knew this would be far more complex than just being a prostitute. Their lives were on the line, just like mine. However, I had to make it work. I wasn't strong, and I didn't know how to fight. My body and acting were my only weapons. I glanced over at Clinton. Perhaps this would be easier to do than I thought. It may be hard to get a tribute to fall in love with me, but how hard could it be to get someone of higher position to fall in love with me?

I put the idea in my brain for later as I watched Muffy pull out the boy's name.

"Lyric Kane!"

You have got to be kidding me. Well, he certainly wouldn't be the tribute I would make fall in love with me.

He made his way through the seventeen year old boy section, and I saw his light blonde hair bob through the crowd. Girls weren't the only people that looked like porcelain dolls in this District. Lyric Kane was the grandson of the man that ran most of the factories in this District. He has blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes that make him look just like a fragile doll. I've never really heard him talk, and he seems extremely naïve for his age. Maybe he would be fun to play with, but he certainly wouldn't be able to protect me in the arena. Unless I used his as a human shield, but then he would only have a onetime use.

When Muffy asks for volunteers, no one does. Shocker. We shake hands, and it looks like he just stares right through me. As we walk to the Justice Building, I feel my face begin to set itself into a determined scowl. I needed to get home. My family was depending on me, and no way was I going to let them down. I never had let them down, and I wasn't going to start now. Soon, the whore of District Eight was going to become the only victor of District Eight.

Lyric Kane's POV:

I stumble into the waiting room in a daze. I'm beyond screwed. I thought… I thought I would be safe. I never took out a piece of tesserae in my life. I never did anything to even remotely upset the Capital. All I ever did was sit at home, do homework, and spend time with my family. All I ever did was act like a good boy, and follow all the rules. Apparently that wasn't enough. Apparently, I still deserve to be sent into the Hunger Games.

I felt tears begin to roll down my cheeks. I was kind of smart. That was my only talent. I wasn't strong, I couldn't fight, and I certainly couldn't run to save me life, literally. How far could an above average intelligence get me in a game of skills?

Well, I guess I also had a logical business sort of mind. My grandfather owned practically all of the factories in this district. Even though I found it quite boring, my grandfather spent some time teaching me about business and people within business. How to find and deal with possible thieves, how to treat those that are working harder than others, and how to make people feel important and strong even if they are not.

Sadly, I never inherited my grandfather's cutthroat personality. That kind of personality would have definitely helped me in the Hunger Games, but I was more influenced by my father and mother who are extremely kinder than my grandfather. Morally, that was a great thing. However, it wasn't going to keep me alive for much longer.

Well, District Eight wouldn't be having a victor this year. Everyone knows Asita Chaya. She may be charming, but that's it. She is all talk, and no game. Now, if this were a contest where you charmed the pants off of people, she would win hands down. But this is the Hunger Games, where you have to kill. I doubt she could actually kill someone even if she wanted to.

Last year's tributes had a way better chance than we did. Both Jute and Azalea seemed like potential contenders, plus they were in love which meant they had each other's backs until the end. Sadly, the end was fairly soon and Azalea was killed in the bloodbath. It sent poor Jute slowly crazy, and after seeing about three or four of his allies die, he finally went off the deep end. Let's just say it didn't end well for him.

I was jolted out of my depressing thoughts by my family pouring in. My mom was already in tears as she ran up to me and surrounded me in a huge hug. I hugged her back as hard as I could, and I felt my tears beginning to run down my face again.

"I wish… I wish there was something I could do to help you," she sobbed.

My father was silent, and he rubbed my back as my mother and I embraced. My father may seem intimidating, but he really is one of the nicest people you'd ever meet. However, I didn't expect him to be the stable one in this moment. I expected him and my mother's demeanors to be switched before they entered.

"I never expected this to happen…" my father whispered.

My cries became louder as I choked out, "Don't you have some kind of advice? Anything?"

Silence was my answer, so I decided to ask another question. "Aren't you going to tell me everything will be okay! That I'll be back before you know it!"

Again, silence was my answer. It hit me harder than anything ever had that both of my parents didn't expect me to come home. They fully expected my death, and they weren't even going to try and believe that I could win.

"Why can't you just… tell me that I can do this?" I whispered.

I could feel the hurt spread across my face as my mother whispered. "Because I don't want to lie to you…"

Even more pain rocketed through my body before I pointed to the door. "Get out."

"Wh-a-at?" My mother asked.

"I said, get out." I hissed.

"Lyric…" my father murmured.

"Get out now," I yelled. The Peacekeepers stormed in and carried out my orders. They escorted my parents out and the entire time I glared at them. If my own parents couldn't believe that I might come home, how could I? As soon as the door shut, I fell to the floor. My grandfather's voice resounded in my skull You're nothing but a failure, Lyric. If you can't even get up off your sorry butt and act strong, then there is no way you can make it away from the Bloodbath in one piece.

I shakily stood up, and looked in one of the mirrors. What I saw I was disgusted with. A weak, sniveling child was staring at me. I grabbed the mirror, yanked it off the wall, and threw it across the room. I would be strong! I was going to win this! As soon as the Peacekeepers heard the crash, they stormed back in.

I grabbed another mirror, and tossed it across the room. I didn't care what anyone thought! I was going to win these games no matter what! I was going to show all of them that even if you are the weakest tribute alive, with the right spirit you can win! I smashed another mirror, and right when I was about to grab another one, one of the Peacekeepers slammed his riot stick against the back of my head. The world slowly began turning black before I collapsed in the shattered glass. I would win… I didn't want to die…

Review! Oh my gosh, I adore both of these tributes, no joke! Thank you so much owlchicka and OhSoVeryLovely for submitting these amazing tributes! Seriously, I had a ball writing them! Some tributes I don't even have to give life, because they just have a life of their own and both of these are those kind :D