Hey everyone, it's Paradigm of Writing here with a new chapter of Death Under the Sky, #10: Short Circuit Bloodlust, which is our District 3 reaping! I am sorry that I keep on having to push back these updates by several days at a time, but these are the chapters in my stories that require a solid time schedule and sometimes with school that is just not allowable which is really irritating and all of that good stuff. Today we'll be meeting Iory Hathaway and Fallon Lewis, made by MirrorSpirit19 and cymrel respectively. Enjoy the chapter! I have a super important announcement at the end that I need you all to pay attention to, so read and then be prepared!
Iory Hathaway: District 3 Male P.O.V (15)
Glades of green grass were plucked with immense force as fifteen year-old Iory Hathaway sat in the ivory glade field overlooking the financial sector of District 3. He yawned, leaning back against the emerald pillow of nature, letting the sunlight his skin and the tenderness of its warmth knead his legs. Today was a good day, despite the fact that the reaping concerning the matter of the Hunger Games happened to be in a few hours, but even then he truly wasn't that worried. People fretted one way or another about it and in the end all the brainiac had to say was, "Slow down and breathe. Don't forget to take a breath when you feel like you'll pass out." Which… then happened to be all the time actually.
He examined a petunia between his fingers, how the soft and delicate rosy petals counteracted the iridescent stem. It was one of the only places in Three where there wasn't a heap of technological trash right next to it, or massive solar panels to fuel the connecting trains between Five and Six. Iory liked taking time to examine nature, he often felt like he was being too caught up in the business matters of Panem instead of taking time to observe and enjoy what truly mattered… the environment.
All the districts did this, ruining their home by constantly building massive arenas to host live death competitions, mass production of coal to exhume a mountain which would soon turn into an empty husk, destroying fields to grow and plant artificial trees just to strip them down for faux lumber… why it absolutely riddled a complete despising pit in his stomach that little could appease. Running and escaping to the hill often helped with that, but seldom did it mean much when all he had to do was roll over and see the trash of District 3. Iory snorted to himself.
"We're so smart yet we cannot see the slow poisoning of the planet around us. How ironic. My district makes technology to save people from this fate of ecological destruction, yet we do it while trying to prevent it. Perhaps humans are too stupid for their own good…" he trailed off.
His gaze went back to the petunia, the bone beach expanse of the blue sky, the halcyon sun in the sky. Time could slow down on this hill, or it could speed up, Iory didn't care. He particularly liked when the sun would hit his skin and illuminate it like a ghost, due to the pale complexion of most who worked in District 3. His emerald eyes glittered and shone behind a facet of compassion, which Iory exuded above all other emotions. Screw being evil and cold hearted to others, it's how Panem became the dictatorship now known to everyone.
Iory's light oak hair blended in well with the grass, and had he chosen to wear green today, he could've blended straight in with the hill. Often times when he would lay out in the openness of Panem, he'd think to places far away. Did someone else have the same passion like he did towards the simplistic details in life? He particularly took interest in the ruts of the stone steps leading to his favorite spot, or how the wind made slight breezes to move the hairs on his arm when a gust went through. He took much at full speed, and absorbed all he could. Not to say he didn't have a dark side.
Thanks to his parents being workers primarily in presidential safety, or the dealings of making sure President Ammadeus slept well at night, his family, the Hathaway's, found themselves stuck in the middle class. Not snobby enough to make the .05% of the first class, and not poor enough to counteract the 70% of the lower class, Iory managed to be friends with everyone on the side of the spectrum, and thus it gave him power. It created a darker side to him by that, as he had multiple opinions floating in his head and he'd often mash them all together to form one strong, vocal point.
He loved nature, hated humans. They always messed everything up, and he could have a pitiful desire to be perfect when nothing ever could be, especially if the Homo Sapiens touched it. When Iory found out the scientific name for mankind, he never referred to other people as their name, but that Homo Sapien, or look at her, that idiotic Homo Sapien is killing her flowers with acid, not water. He had little value in the emotions of others, because they were all so stupid and deserved to have nothing less.
Iory, despite having that perspective, did not find all humans to be despicable, and rather warmed up to plenty, including his family and close friends. He could have time for love, but viewed himself as demisexual, where he had to know the person and become intimate with them before he'd even consider dropping into their pants. People would consider him to be mean, but he liked to choose the more sophisticated term of assertive. He never jumped to conclusions hastily, and often would sway in his opinion on most things. Iory, however, couldn't stand the mankind gits who thought they were so much better than everybody else, and that you all started out on an even playing field and had to work your way up that ladder to be called 'better'.
The boy sat up, frowning. "Perhaps that's where my strong dislike comes from…" Iory didn't know how to lie, and if asked about it, there'd be his answer, straight up and truthful. When he was watching the 1st Hunger Games and saw how deplorable Homo Sapiens acted towards other Homo Sapiens, his disgust for one particular individual went through the roof.
Ryder Cole. The very first male to represent District 3 in the Hunger Games, and how he did a mighty pitiful job at doing so. Gave the whole wrong impression of his home. Not everyone acted like a stuck up snob, not everyone stabbed each other in the back (although that did happen, not as frequent as Ryder made it out to be…), and in general his actions favored unfavorably on everyone back home. When he lost his head over Ellen dying, the boy had trash talked her a few days before, as admitted in Ellen's interview with Louis Grande, to then lose his absolute sanity over someone he knew he didn't like. Joining the Careers, to once again get back at a group of people who did nothing to him, then abandoning them like a pollen spore from a dandelion to the wind. Showed cowardice above all else, how he truly had no intention of staying. Joining the so called 'enemy', where he faced Jake Quipp eye-to-eye and cockily grinned while moving one hand to the knife at his waist… how despicable. If you hated someone and wanted them dead, say it to their face.
Iory would have. He knows he would have, and would do if given the chance.
Then the entire pity me, pity me speech he had given to Mako Narcis and Nydia Jones moments before he died. To win over Panem's hearts when they all knew what a lying scumbag he truly was. All the things that ran through Iory's head on a day to day basis. He couldn't help but smirk when the dark haired boy had received a sword through the chest in betrayal, the very act Ryder himself had hoped to commit then got flipped to rear its ugly head in. Iory recalled laughing himself to sleep that night because of it.
It wasn't to say Iory was insane or anything, but he just didn't care for those he didn't like and you had to be pretty shitty if he didn't like you. Plain and simple, lock everything up and throw away the key.
The fifteen year old rested his head back down against the grass. A… strange thought, to say the least, entered his head. "If I am to be selected to go into these Hunger Games, will I react the same way Ryder Cole will?"
Iory sat up, just after immediately laying his head down, in a reverse and backwards movement. He frowned. He truly didn't have an answer to that. He wanted to say absolutely not, I'll be faithful to those I care about. Then again… would he like anyone he came into contact with? Besides his district partner, there'd be no one he'd like, no one that'd matter to him. Did that justify slamming a sword into their throat and ripping out their intestines? Iory didn't think so.
He rubbed his temples, a commonplace action the boy did whenever he felt stressed and couldn't come to a logical, unbiased answer. Half of him wanted to resort to ethos and care, while the other part said, remember what you constantly say, those you don't like can die, just like Ryder Cole! Would he be any better than the evil men that ruled Panem?
Iory didn't think the hill felt so comforting anymore after that. He stood up, cracking his back, once again looking over the scenery to examine District 3, his rightful home, a place of nurturing warmth. He snorted. Hah, as if. Humans… all deserved to die…
The boy blinked. Did his mind flip that easily? A gust of wind blew through the vicinity, and Iory hugged his sides tight. He wasn't liking the view that much any longer, his so called safe haven turning into a fresh hell.
He began to back up from his normal spot of relaxation before breaking into a quick run, yelling and shouting all the way as he ran back into town.
"I'm a monster! I'm a monster!" he howled.
Iory lived a lie. Believed one thing that came flying out of his mouth, then shut up and cursed everything in his head. How could someone live like that? Win a Hunger Games no less? Bullshit. The brown haired male stopped when his shoes hit the gravel, the comforting stone step pathways causing his run to slow to a jog, then to walking speed, and before stopping against the side of the nearest building.
He had started to sweat, something Iory rarely did. He wiped off the glistening liquid from his brow, starting to dislike the true intent of nature. His mind did an entire run around full circle while spending an appeasing afternoon on the hill. Iory bent over to take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling with ease.
"Never again… never again do I go back up there when I am acting normal, as it doesn't even exist in me. I'm a damn paradox, something that should be locked up in a cage with all the other animals that deserve to be there. I'm no greater than Ammadeus Snow, than Ryder Cole, than the homeless man who speaks eighteen different languages who parks himself five feet from my front door every Tuesday morning to hear the sparrows sing. If I hate my own people that much… what does that say about me?"
Iory shuddered again. That wasn't a question he, or anyone else needed to answer for him.
Fallon Lewis: District 3 Female P.O.V (17)
On days like those where she was nervous, seventeen year old Fallon Lewis let her sister do her hair for her while sitting on the front porch of their rickety house sitting uncomfortably on a slope built unevenly, and definitely not made for a place of dwelling.
The girl hummed softly to herself while her sister, Maisie, who was thirteen, worked quickly and effortlessly at braiding and combing through the tangled knots. The older sibling had just gotten out of bed after all, despite it being late in the afternoon, almost close to dinner time at 6 P.M. Fallon's gloriously bright fox red hair hued a radiant amber in the waning rays of the sun from above. Fallon decided to stay in slumber for such a long time because, on days like Reaping Day, she was nervous and didn't want to spend many of her hours tirelessly doing nothing and thinking about some impending doom on the way up.
Maisie, who had vibrant and bright halcyon curls for hair wrinkled her nose at another colony of knots. "Fallon, did you roll in weeds before you got up? There are so many tangles, that solving how to fix the accelerator on President Ammadeus's car would be easier than this."
Fallon rolled her eyes. She loved her sister, don't get her wrong, but Panem bless her when that mouth opened up and another snarky comment like that came out, the older girl resisted every urge tingling from every pore to punch the loved one straight in the larynx. She made a tight smirk. "And how would know how to solve the accelerator on President Ammadeus's car anyways? You don't even know what one looks like. Besides, he drives a limousine, takes the train, flies, or simply walks whenever he has a destination he needs to be at."
The blonde threw her hands up in the air. "Do you want me to continue doing your hair or not?"
"Fine, but don't act all high and mighty when this is all said and done."
"Why? Is there something I'm not getting," Maisie shot back. "Or are you too embarrassed to admit you were lazy and wanted attention?"
Fallon decided not to comment. No need in getting in an argument over sleeping schedules and hair appearances. What mattered were the games. How someone's life could be gone in seconds. There was no reaping last year, the kids had been taken at random and in the middle of the night with pallid letters tacked to their doors in the morning on why their children were gone. Ellen Dosse lived down the street from her, and while she never spoke to the now deceased pallid haired girl, the sight of knowing she once existed hurt more. Maisie and Fallon both were viable in this reaping to be selected, and if her own sister had to be thrown into a ring full of cruel adversaries with a boy she didn't even know… Fallon wouldn't even hesitate to throw that hand in the air and scream the infamous words, I volunteer!
She had no selflessness in her to deny she wouldn't be good at training, constantly lugging and wielding a torch to meld pieces and parts to together for technological shipments in the next hour of being given the assignment, plus how quick on her feet she could be. Fallon would like to tell herself she could survive if given the chance, and she wouldn't be afraid to voice that if the time came. All she had to do was survive one more year after this dreadful evening was over. Maisie had five more to take on.
Fallon cleared her throat. "Hey, sis…"
"What?" Maisie asked.
"Do you want to talk about the reaping?"
"Why on Earth would you want to discuss that?"
"Last minute jitters I suppose," she said, actually somewhat confused on why she would do something so stupid. "To get everything uneasy out of my system, I guess. And yours too, as you know we're both thinking the same thing. Only reason I asked you to do my hair is so I could detract your mind from the Games."
Maisie placed an expression of complete confusion on her face. Hands left Fallon's hair, a ghost of a presence replacing the tender fingers that were once there. "If you did this to make me not think about, you're even worse than I thought for just bringing this up now."
Fallon shrugged. "At face value it may not work, but…" she turned to stare at her sister, emerald eyes locking together with emerald eyes to show a bond only siblings had together. "Sitting here having you work at my hair made me realize, if we ran from talking about it, when it comes time to stand in that square shortly, it'll be brought up and we spent the entire afternoon banishing it from our thoughts. It's a coward's way out, and I want it out of the way."
The blonde shrugged. "I suppose you make sense. Away you go, sis."
She took a deep breath, unsure of why this even bothered her in the first place. "Confidence, I've got to think confidence otherwise I'll get nowhere," Fallon coached herself in her head. She licked her lips. "If I was to be picked, would you volunteer for me?"
Maisie bit back her tongue, almost saying no as the question didn't fully register in her head. "Absolutely. Do you mistake me for some type of heartless bitch?"
Fallon let the curse word slide. In the Lewis family, it was known to all that they said their minds, and should expletive language be used, so be it. "Not what I was getting at… but sure. And no, I don't."
"Should I expect the same from you?" her sister interrupted her, before the redhead could input another word.
"Are you-"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I am. You have the knowledge that your sister will volunteer for you if the occasion arises, which we pray to all things holy that it doesn't, do I get the same assurance?" Maisie had crossed her arms over her shoulder, no going back now.
Fallon bit her lip hard, hard enough to draw blood. Her right eye twitched slightly, something about how the droplet fell against the porch and splattered gave her a strange form of uneasiness and the chills to creep down her back. "You do; you can have that reassurance."
Maisie nodded. "That's what I like to hear, amazing job being truthful sister."
She opened her mouth to speak another line when a loud bell sound reverberated throughout the area, coming from the Justice Building. Only meant one thing. Reaping time. The older Lewis sibling's face darkened visibly, causing the younger to shudder slightly. "It's here in District 3 where our fates shall be decided."
The blonde quirked a smile, getting the reference of Fallon quoting an old time fiction legend that she managed to pick up at the local library, J. R. R. Tolkien's, Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Powerful novel, one of the best in the genre of good versus evil, and how it prevailed despite suffering many hardships.
Fallon held onto Maisie's hand as they walked to town square. Her sister was old enough to walk alone, but she couldn't risk the fact that they could ultimately have all they lived for shattered in one explicable moment when Cranston Ervack walked on that stage and pronounced their untimely death by the cause of the Reaping.
Her mind wandered back to the quote. Why did she say something so amorous at a time like this, where everything needed to be serious? Sure… the connotation made perfect sense, but did the general fact that it came from fiction and not some real life person matter? Fallon, for some reason, found this very taxing. She couldn't stop thinking about how she couldn't be serious even in the most uptight, firm section of her seventeen years on Earth.
She squeezed Maisie's hand, taking another quote. "Whatever happens, stay with me."
"I don't know if that'll be possible," the younger girl replied back grimly, when the two had reached the square. "One can only hope fate and probability haven't worked together and against each other this time around."
Both girls stood stock still in the center of town square, noticing the boys and girls around them that had started to group together, while waiting for the reaping to begin. Each had a stone of worry and a stone of optimism placed in their hearts, where they cycled back and forth between the two. The little angel and the little devil sat on Fallon's shoulder, whispering commands.
"Let go of your sister's hand, it won't hurt, at least not after the next five years. NO! Hug her, keep her tight. Let her die in that arena! Never lose sight of Maisie Lewis, or so help me to Ammadeus's underwear I'll-"
"Shut up!" Fallon growled.
Maisie blinked. "Something the matter sis?"
The redhead shook her head, realizing she had spoken aloud, and there were a few sideways glances being tossed her way. "S- sorry. Arguing with the demons plaguing me inside my head. You?"
"Never letting go of your hand." the younger Lewis girl replied heartily, smiling big.
The doors to the Justice Building ripped open with a yell and wild pull of the handles, and out hopped the victor of the 1st Hunger Games, Cranston Ervack, in his seventeen year old glory. Fallon frowned. She happened to be the same age as him. Was she like him? Was he like her? She wanted to ask him that question.
The victor's bright emerald eyes, a commonality she noticed among many in Three, took center stage, such as his gaping smile. Was Cranston Ervack on some form of medication? He seemed to be the only one showing glee and happiness in a world full of depression and civil matters such as death and betrayal.
"Good evening District 3! If we haven't had the chance to be acquainted yet, my name is Cranston Ervack, the victor of last year's Hunger Games." he howled into the microphone.
Maisie frowned. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"He took some marijuana from District 9?" Fallon smirked back.
"Exactly."
"As you all know," Cranston was rambling on the stage, "It is time for District 3 to see which of their lovely children will be sent off into the Hunger Games and more than likely die a horrible, painful death. Ryder was amazing and all guys, but he died in the worst way possible. Don't be like him, whoever gets his spot. Just… just please."
A murmur echoed through the crowd. Is he insane? Did Cranston Ervack hit his head really, really, really hard on the way out here? "I'd rather go back to doing your hair." Maisie groaned to herself.
"I'm going to skip all proceedings and go straight to selecting the young female who'll be representing District 3! Get ready, young ladies," shouted the male victor into the microphone. That was when Fallon had noticed the two large bowls that had suddenly appeared on stage, filled to the inexplicable brim with white slips of paper and fancy ink manuscript dotting out the names of every poor female and male placed in the reaping. Cranston dug his hand into the bowl and retrieved a paper. He went back to the microphone. "And the female is…" he began.
"Don't make my promise come true… please, oh please…" Fallon begged to herself in her head back on the ground.
"Maisie Lewis!" Cranston shouted.
The two girls locked eyes, the siblings and their hearts shattering in two. Emerald eyes widened and the words spewed out before she could help herself. "I volunteer!" Fallon screamed over the noisiness of the crowd that had recognized the name that had been called.
The victor peered from his spot on stage. "Well, lassie, come on out then."
Threatening to spill tears down her cheeks, Fallon squeezed her sister's hand once before walking up to the stage. Her heart hammered in her chest, quick pounds and booms killing her with each and every step. Maisie was screaming, screaming her name, but Fallon dared not look back, dare not tempt the waters to cause her to break down. An out of his head Cranston had selected the male tribute while she made her way to the stage, a Mr. Iory Hathaway.
Fallon made an attempt at looking interested, seeing a male with shockingly illuminating iridescent eyes and oak hair, a rather canonical look-alike to the victor on stage. She didn't care. She didn't give a shit about who would be her partner. Only one thought flooded her mind.
"I've failed my sister. I've failed her." Fallon thought bitterly to herself, before bursting into tears, collapsing into a huddle of hair and clothing on stage.
The road to winning any year of the Hunger Games would be long and arduous for her, she could already tell.
There we are guys! Damn… another chapter out. I know it isn't 5K, and I'm sorry that I fell just under the mark, but I'm happy to have this one out as it is. So… that was #10: Short Circuit Bloodlust. This entire title doesn't refer to just one tribute, but Short Circuit refers to one and Bloodlust refers to another… who do you think? Did you also get the reference I made to Luna from District 6 with Iory's P.O.V? If not, go read it again to see where. Now, the news! I am doing another, yes another, reaping chapter for Death Under the Sky on Sunday, in two days, perhaps around the same time, more than likely earlier in the evening. Reason behind it is to make up for the times I've pushed it back. Secondly, instead of doing another SYOT for 2017, I've settled on doing a fanfiction going over my take on the Dark Days. Sure, we have our canon and we all know how it ends, but how many of these stories actually write about this as a whole story in full? It'll be a prequel to Capitol's Strike, which I think you'll all appreciate.
I did the random number generator for the chapter on Sunday, and with only three districts left, being 8, 9, and 11, we've got District 9, meaning we're going to the grain and field lovers, the same home where Rye Henderson and Eve Gladius reside (remember them?). I'm super excited, we only have three more reapings to go, and then we'll be at the games themselves and all the stuff that's fun to write (don't get me wrong here, though…), and damn, it'll be good. So, please review, let me know what you thought! And be prepared for the quick update on Sunday, be ready for it. Love you all! Have an amazing day! Bye!
~ Paradigm
