Marley Deerlard; District 8
I'm scared. Which is pathetic, considering the task before me is far easier than the ones I'll be facing in a matter of days. Not even days now; hours. I jump when Caesar calls my name. Mentally scolding myself for this obvious sign of weakness, I skitter onto the stage with what I hope is a look of courage plastered onto my face. After greeting Caesar, I plop down into the soft seat.
"Hello Marley! How are you enjoying the Capitol so far?"
Not a good way to start off the bat. I have to look sweet; it's my only hope. But the Capitol is just so awful I can't possibly go about this kindly.
"Not very much," I sniff, a small smile slipping onto my face. The crowd laughs nervously; surely there have been Tributes to say worse.
"And why ever not?" Caesar gasps.
It's as good a time as any to bring up Hellard, my future fiancé by force. I was going to save it up for the big finish, but I've already messed up any chance of this going smoothly.
"Well, the Capitol is beautiful," I gush, "But there's a lot of people I'm going to miss if I don't come back."
"I'm sure you do. And who are some of those people?"
I glance down at my hands to gather my bearings so I don't burst into tears. My nails have kept their usual purple tone, but they are coated in actual polish, not the sticky fabric dye I'm used to. I wish I could sit like this for the next three minutes, but I have to answer sooner or later.
"Well, I have lots of friends of course that I'd like to see again. My parents, who I couldn't stand to let see me die. My little brother, Lorcan, who I've always had a special bond with," I trail off, leaving room for more.
"That's all? Beautiful girl like you, you must have a special someone back home!"
"Of course I do. Hellard, my fiancé," technically we aren't even dating yet, but I might as well embellish. The crowd lets out sounds that range from shock to excitement. I even hear I few cries of "Oh man!" Puffing out my chest, I continue on.
"He's the sweetest boy you'll ever meet. And if I don't make it back, I don't know what he'll do!" I doubt he'll do much but shrug. He clearly was never too keen on the arranged marriage tradition either.
"Well, I can guarantee you the most spectacular wedding Panem has ever seen; Capitol style! But first, you must win these Games. How do you plan on doing so?"
"Well, I'm very fast and sneaky. And I can do a little bit of everything," I stammer. I wouldn't even say these meager strengths are true. I'm not good at much. My heart swells with the stress of it all, the fear that in a few days I will be dead. But most of all, it aches with longing. Longing to just be home, snuggled up to Lorcan on the mattress, worn down to just the right amount of comfort.
Caesar snaps me out of my wallowing; reminding me it's not over yet. I still have a chance, and I won't go down without a good fight.
"Do you plan on having anyone to help you on your adventure?"
The anxiety of this reminder ties a knot in my already queasy stomach; I don't. The girls from 4 and 5 seem kind, but I never made anything official. Tim, my District partner, is a sweetheart. He's been very friendly and good at putting me at ease; but no matter how nice he seems, he's running on determination. He won't want a mess like me following him around.
"No I don't." I say with surprising confidence. "I think I'm better off working alone."
"Well I certainly hope that's true," Caesar says before kissing my hand. The buzzer rings, and I let out the breath I had held in for most of the interview. The crowd claps, at least; which is much more than I can say for District 3. But the Capitol's approval doesn't mean much to me; I still won't go out with ease.
Tim Hart; District 8
I'm called up as soon as Marley steps down. I feel awful; she sort of crashed and burned up there. As she walks past me, a nervous smile covering up the tears welling in her brown eyes, and I plant a kiss on her cheek that leaves the audience whooping and hollering. I didn't mean it sexually in any way; just as a friendly sign of reassurance; but I have a feeling the Capitol is going to twist anything I say or do that way. Not that I have a problem with this; it's not like I'm not used to using my appearance to get what I want. If that's what I have to do, so be it. But if I die, I want to leave something else behind, not to just be the sex-god from District 8 whose looks couldn't save him. I don't want to seem brainless, like District 4, blatantly announcing his weakness. I just need to be myself; if they like me, then good, more sponsors. If they don't, so what? I'll still have plenty of hopeful women bending over backwards to help me out, and at least I'll keep my sense of self.
Caesar slaps his hand on my back and I pull him in closer to shake his hand. I hope the crowd doesn't get the wrong idea about that.
"A firm handshake over here, everyone!" Caesar booms.
"You sound so surprised," I quip.
"Not at all, my boy! You've already captured the audience's attention with your strength."
"Just my strength?" I question with a smirk.
"Well, certainly your rugged good looks have a bit to do with it!"
"Well that's a big compliment. But just flexing at the Gamemakers can't earn you an 8 in training!" I say, determined to show I'm good at thing besides looking nice. Trying to prove I'm better than I am. It seems like everything I try to succeed in always leads back to that. My mother's constant comparisons to my dad. My bold attempts to get into girls' beds. And now I have all of Panem to impress. Can't a guy get a break?
"Well then, if that's not what you did, would you care to elaborate on how you did earn such a fine score?"
"Well, I used to play around with knives a lot when my mom wasn't around when I was younger,"
I'm interrupted by some silver-haired woman screaming "TIM, PLAY WITH ME WHEN YOUR MOM'S NOT AROUND!"
Ugh.
I'm repulsed, but I'm too good natured not to laugh and blow a kiss her way.
"I'll bet you'd like to take up that offer," Caesar snickers, "But I'm sure you already have a girl back home you can show off for."
I'm scrambling to get away from playing the good-looks card. Can't we let it go now?
"Well, there's one. My mom."
The crowd lets of a collective gasp. Dammit. Are you kidding me?
"Oh no! No, no, no," I sputter "Hell no, not like that!"
The audience sighs in relief. I bet that's the most stress they've felt all year.
"I love my mom, though. She's the only lady I care about impressing," I grin, hoping the crowd catches the hint "And I plan on making it back to her."
Silver-hair finds this the opportune moment to scream, "WHEN YOU WIN, TAKE ME HOME WITH YOU!"
The audience's robotic laughter roars in response. I feel my cheeks flushing with a number of things. Anger. Hurt. Embarrassment. I guess it doesn't matter what I say to them. They don't care if I'm intelligent or funny or have a family waiting back home. All they care is that I stand there and look good. And how long after the blood starts flowing will that last?
Artemis Traymon; District 9
The crowd falls silent when my name is called. I can feel my face burn hot with humiliation. Surely they've all heard about my outburst in training. They gape at me, the mothers clamping their colorful hands over the mouths of their children. Their eyes stare expectantly, as if prepared for me to leap forward and tear at Caesar's throat. This makes me even more determined to show them otherwise. Maybe I can act sweet enough for them to feel guilty about refusing help for my poor, deranged psyche. But, knowing I'm far from charming and the Capitol is far from merciful, probably not. I wish I would have planned out an angle prior to this; but the beefy Capitol guards refused to let me leave my room prior to these interviews. They, along with the Gamemakers, have probably been given strict instructions to ensure I have the least advantage possible at surviving the Arena. Wouldn't want a nutcase for a Victor! Disgusting people. I shouldn't have to play show-horse for them anyways, considering they're already having a lovely time counting down the hours until my death. So that's how I decide to play it. Detach myself from the outside world as usual. Maybe I'll come off as elusive or mysterious, instead of repulsed and homesick.
I'm concerned I won't take being in front of the entirety of Panem very well, since I can hardly function properly in my own presence and can only really hold a conversation with figments of my imagination; but when after I take a seat, Caesar and I make small-talk with ease. "Small" being an incredible over-statement; but at least I'm actually forming words. This in itself must come as a great relief to the audience, who seem to be loosening up tremendously after finding I am not foaming at the mouth.
After Caesar makes several attempts at pulling me out of my husk, it's clear he's getting nowhere. There's a low buzz throughout the crowd as they whisper amongst themselves. I can't tell if this is good or bad. I surprise myself when I look up to the cameras to find the nervous smile on my face looks less timid and far more conniving, while my eyes glint with calculation, gleaming a beautiful golden color brought out by the paint on my eyelids. I don't look as trembling and awkward as I thought; in fact, I bear remarkable resemblance to the tomcat that used to slink around the alleys back in 9. The silky black hair, the amber eyes, the air of craftiness. Surely I'm as alluring and hypnotic as that slinky cat. Hopefully I don't end up like he did, though; I killed him on one of my bad days.
"So," Caesar presses, "you received a tremendous training score of 9, leaving you tied for the second highest. As if that wasn't as intriguing enough, we've heard some interesting stories about your time in front of the Gamemakers."
My devious smile turns into one of genuine glee when I imagine how frantic the Gamemakers surely were, their eyes round and their mouths blubbering as they gossiped about my frenzy. I try to press down the smile, but I see it illuminate my triumph on the bright television. It looks far more evil than a smile should on my face, though.
"Please. They haven't seen anything yet."
Cedar Larkson; District 9
People start cheering the second my name is called. I should have expected this, what with my big show at the Opening Ceremonies and my general personable nature. I'm proud that I've found a way to get through to the Capitol through something besides brutality. It reminds me that no matter how twisted, they're still people too. And I may not be able to sling a spear, but people I can work with. If I can work into the crowd's hearts without cruelty, maybe I can get through the Games that way too. But I shouldn't press my luck just yet.
"Hello my lad!" Caesar chortles.
"Hey there, Caesar! It's nice to meet you."
"Not as nice as it is to finally meet you! You kept us all smiling on Opening Night."
"Well, it's my pleasure!" I say, waving towards the stands.
"You are definitely one of the favorites this year. But might I ask why you are so enthusiastic? Is it that you finally are in the great Capitol? Or are you just ready to get into the Games?"
"Are those my only choices?" I grin. If anyone else would have said this, the people would have been peeved, but they chuckle very good-naturedly.
"No, I'm just always like this. But I will admit being in the Capitol is great; although I think I might be losing sight in my left eye from all the colors. Whew!" I lift my hand to my forehead as if to shield away the pinks and blues that light up the City Circle. Everyone is guffawing, of course. It may come in handy now that I'm not taken too seriously, but in the Arena, that'll be my downfall. I have to play myself up a little bit.
"But certainly you aren't all fun and games. You received a 6 in training; not bad for one of our younger Tributes!"
"Oh, no, that was still fun and games. The Gamemakers are quite big fans of a good tap number. And if you sing along with it, you're guaranteed a good score!"
Even Caesar's face breaks into laughter at this one.
"Okay, that was a lie. But I am from District 9, where I've helped out in the fields since I was a kid. So I know my way around a blade!"
"I'm sure you're just as skilled at that as you are at doing a jig. And what are you other strategies for the Arena?"
"Well, I really just want to survive. I don't want to hurt anybody, but I'll do what I have to. And I hope to make some friends to help me out along the way!"
"That won't be a challenge for you! I'm sure already you have plenty of friends counting on you to get home. And what about your family?" Caesar queries.
"Well, my mom and dad of course. They both are the best. They work so hard for my family, and I'd love to bring them home some cash to help them out. Then my brothers, Rye and Garner, they're seventeen and six. I'm a little miffed that Rye didn't help me out at the reaping, but I've always showed him up anyways." I chuckle.
"And we're all hoping you make it home to gloat! We're rooting for you, Cedar," he finishes as the bell dings.
Well, I wasn't fearsome. But I definitely could have done worse.
Kyla Montay; District 10
I'm shaking in my boots when my name is called. I clamber out onto the stage, blushing the entire time. I can't do this. I can't be my happy, jovial self; even if I am about to burst into laughter at Caesar's likeliness to a blowfish. It's easier when you think that they are barely human, but it still is quite a task. I can hardly be myself in front of people I've known for years, let alone these batty brother-killers.
Hello, Kyla Montay! How are you tonight?" Caesar spiels.
"I'm good," I peep, "And how are you?" I try and force out a stronger voice at the last part, but my voice ends up cracking like a twelve year old boy and I flushed even redder.
"We're all doing great tonight! Very sweet of you to ask."
I let the slip out the smallest of smiles. This isn't so bad. It's not like these people are belligerent and crude directly. In fact, they're fairly humane up close and personal. But they aren't quite kind enough to sponsor a girl who barely has the guts to speak, let alone take someone's life.
"So, the Games begin tomorrow. What is your plan for survival? Caesar asks, offering up the most basic of questions for me to scramble up answers to. He really is a good guy, always helping out the Tributes as best he can.
"I'll stay out of the way for the most part, until things start slowing down. Then I'll come out fighting as hard as I can."
Caesar and I continue chatting, and I'm starting to warm up. I even get the audience to laugh a little bit. And that's when he asks it.
"So, it seems your last name is a familiar one," he turns to face the audience, "I'm sure we all recall Danny Montay of the 43rd Hunger Games!"
I'm too frozen for tears to spill. My breath catches in my throat. Caesar gestures to the large screens above. They wouldn't. They wouldn't.
Oh, but they do. The fear on my brother's face consumes the television. The girl from 6 storms after him. I look around frantically for some sort of condolence, some explanation for this act of ruthlessness. But there is none; the Tributes keep their heads down, picking at their clothing nervously, and the audience is in an absolute uproar. The girl from 6 swings the mace around her head; the cheers pause, the Tributes give me one more pained look of pity. And then I see, in the Capitol's full high-definition, the death of my brother once more.
Thorne Marks; District 10
That wasn't okay. It was hard even for me to watch Danny die again like that, but Kyla… They ring the buzzer early for her interview to end, but she still sits there, gaping at the screen. It takes a minute for her to collect herself and shuffle back to her seat, defeated. To make things worse, Bo, my mentor, is causing a scene in the stands, smashing her liquor bottle over the chair in front of her and shouting obscenities towards those over-seeing the interviews and just about anyone else around. The audience is in a tizzy; it takes Caesar slamming on the buzzer repeatedly until order is returned. Adjusting his ugly jacket like a chicken ruffling its feathers, he calls my name. And boy, I can't wait to give him a piece of my mind.
"Hello Thorne Marks, and how are you doing tonight?"
Jackass.
"Well, I just watched one of my good friends die on a jumbo-screen. You tell me."
"It was a most unfortunate death, wasn't it?"
"Clearly not enough for you people," I spit. Caesar doesn't even flinch. He's used to hostility from Tributes. I remember one year a girl from 7 smacked him right across the face. I'm considering following in her footsteps when he opens his fat mouth to ask more questions.
"Well then, how are you going to cope with the death in the Arena?"
"I have no problem with death. I do it all the time around the farm. And, using the Capitol's logic, people aren't much different than animals. Easily killed. There for your needs. I'm sure some of you even gather 'round to eat the bodies of the Tributes after they die, right?" I grin manically.
Caesar gulps.
"Filet of District 4? Wood smoked 7?" I try holding in my laughter at Caesar Flickerman's shocked expression as he scrambles to regain the upper hand in this interview.
"I've never had anything cooked over coals before. Does District 12 taste the best?"
I look over at the girl from 12, who's paling as I continue on. Next to her, the assholes from 11 looks like he's about to die if he doesn't get some oxygen soon. At least someone has a sense of humor.
"Mmm…" Caesar's eyes dart around looking for some help from the people filming, who only shrug and keep rolling. I smirk in triumph.
"So, you got a 7 in training. It's easy to see why, but would you care to elaborate?" he tries.
"I can tie a great noose. Wanna try it out?"
And with that went any sort of bond the Capitol made with me on Opening Night with my horse stunt.
"I'd rather see it in action on some of the other Tributes-"
"Of course you would," I interrupt.
"You made all of our heads turn at the Opening Ceremonies. Where did you learn how to handle yourself on a horse with such ease?"
What a MORON.
"Seriously? I'm from District 10. We cook up all of the horse meat that you probably tell your loyal citizens is beef."
The audience buzzes as people gasp and whisper to themselves. Bo is waving her arms wildly and throwing her head back with laughter. I'm doing pretty well, here. Surely my opportunity for sponsors has been wrecked, but it's not like these tight asses ever helped me get by before; why would they start now?
Lila Carter; District 11
I'm going to be a definite let-down after District 10's little show. No schemes of sparkly gowns for Lila Carter. Caesar calls my name, and I catch him flinching a little when I stand up. As expected, for a frail little man like himself. I've always looked rather intimidating, and my size isn't helped by the colossal heels I stagger in. Thankfully my mentor suggested I continue on with this gruff demeanor; it wasn't exactly far out of my reach.
"Hello Lila Carter! The first volunteer from District 11 in the history of the Games!"
I smile and nod curtly. I wasn't aware I earned that title. It's not something I'm completely proud of, but you have to do what you have to do.
"What inspired you to volunteer for your District?" he probed.
"Well, life was rough back home. This is my way out."
People are probably expecting more information, but even Annabel doesn't know my history. Why would I tell the entire Capitol? Besides, playing the pity card is not a good idea for me.
"Not only did you set the record with your subjecting yourself to the Games, you also hold the highest score of each of this year's Tributes! What earned you your incredible 10?"
To be honest, I'm not sure. I came in, did my thing, and got out of there as soon as possible. Phoenix Chases' eyes are shooting daggers in my direction; and it's only so long until that metaphor becomes reality. I'm sure she'd love all this attention I'm getting, but I don't. My big frame, volunteering, a high score; I'm a walking target.
"You'll just have to wait and see," I say, shooting a confident glare at the crowd.
"Ah, you're killing us! You can't be all brawn though; any loved ones back home?"
"My friend, Annabel. And my little brother, Lucas. "
"What about your parents?"
For a famed interviewer, he sure lacks grace.
"You said loved ones," I growl, recalling my family's absence in the Justice Building before my departure, "Besides. My dad died in these Games a while back. Never knew him."
The pull the same thing they did on the District 10 girl, and above me I see a dark-skinned man who must be my father struggle against a boy with sword, which ends bloodily. People peer at me as if expecting me to burst into tears, but I don't bat an eye. I honestly don't feel even a stroke of sadness. He left me alone. With them.
"Maybe his daughter will prove to be far more successful."
"She will." I state with certainty.
The crowd cheers wildly, and I catch a glimpse of myself on the screen. I look fearsome; my thick hair forming a sort of mane around my head, my green eyes contrasting my brown skin, the muscle definition in my arms highlighted by the flashing lights of the stage.
"How do you feel about the other competitors?"
"Most of them aren't really competitors," I venture, "Sure, they can chuck an axe and aim a bow. But that's not what you need to win these Games. You need to have an edge. One that most Tributes from places like 1 and 2 don't have".
It's a bold statement, but it's the truth.
"Well, that certainly can help you win. Allies can help as well. Do you have any to assist you on your journey?"
No, I don't. That looks like the common choice for this year; even the tiny girl from 6 is going solo. I glance over in her direction. Even her fluffy dress can't conceal her maturity. Anyone who couldn't see her capability from her wavering eyes and sneaky movements were certainly proven wrong from her feisty interview. She was calculative, she was hardened, she was a survivor; and she reminded me far too much of myself.
"No," I say, pulling myself away from the little girl, "No I do not."
"You, my dear, radiate confidence!" Caesar gushes.
"I have nothing to lose."
With one final smug grin, my buzzer rings, and I rise with assurance and the deafening sound of applause erupting throughout the Circle. I'm sure my step-father is eating every negative word he's ever said to me now; which means he'll be stuffing his face a hell of a lot more than he ever let me.
Arden Wade; District 11
Damn. Even from the beginning I've been grossly over-shadowed by Lila. Anyone else might be seriously ticked about being outshone by a District 11 girl, but it's fine by me. I want to steer clear of the attention. Pulling something like Lila is that last thing someone should do in the Arena; make herself the target. My name booms out over the stands, and I stagger up to the seat. Lights flash all around me, combined with bright colors that make my eyes squint even more than usual. What I wouldn't give for a drink right now.
Caesar tries to get the ball rolling with the basic questions, but he doesn't get very far. I can't play aloof and hostile as I'd like to, because Barka Blaine from 7 already had that in the basket. I decided beforehand to go with brooding asshole, since it'll make me look rough, but be unpleasant enough for me to fly by without much notice.
"You sure seem like a tough guy. You must have something to make up for your fairly low training score," Caesar tries.
I almost laugh at this. Caesar Flickman practically kisses the feet of every Tribute that walks on this stage, and it takes him a lot to feel otherwise; but I feel like I've succeeded.
"Well, I can't exactly jump the Gamemakers like I would at home," I growl.
"Looks like we have a fighter here, ladies and gentlemen!"
He seems very pleased with himself for finally getting something worthwhile out of me. Doesn't this guy have something better to do? Get his forehead waxed or something?
"So, how do you feel about your District partner? She's making quite a show here!"
I like Lila. She may look tough, but she's always been polite. She has one of those voices that sound like honey. She's had a rough way to go, but she's a nice gal. So I'll help her out with her little hard-ass act.
"She's the one person I've ever met that could kick my ass."
The crowd laughs on cue, and I catch Lila throwing me a gracious little grin. I wink her way, which fortunately goes unnoticed by the cameras.
"So no allies, then?"
Dammit. I don't. Yet. But I need to; the idea of going into that Arena with no one by my side makes me want to hurl.
"No. I'm a loner."
Sounds kind of tough, but a complete lie. Oh well; when I make it to the final 8 and they have to plow through interviews with all of my friends, they'll see I'm not a total tool.
"So no ladies back home?"
"Good one. No."
"I'm surprised! You're a handsome fella. Maybe you can find love in the Arena?"
Love in the Arena? What the hell is this guy on? They drip out morphling like it's water here.
"Yeah, I bet. The sunset on the horizon, the view from the trees. We look into each other's eyes,"
Caesar looks absolutely giddy.
"Then she stabs me in the gut and tears my intestines out of my asshole," I finish.
I'm not surprised when the bell rings shortly after.
Keishi Tayne; District 12
Wow. This is just another reason District 12 has only had one Victor so far. Not only are we the least appealing District, we're the last to be interviewed; the crowd is getting tired, the Tributes are getting bored, and Caesar Flickerman is running out of questions. But those aren't the only flaws of being last to go; with all of the beauty queens and blood thirsty brutes before me, I'm terrified. Not only do I have to go up against these people in a fight to the death, I have to compete in a popularity contest with them too. And up against people like Burl Lichten and Lila Carter, I won't stand a chance in either fight. Not to mention the fact the boy from 10 called me out, mentioning something about cannibalism!
When Ceasar calls me my name, it feels like a dream; all the swirling colors and lights fixed on me! Part of me feels sick; being all dressed up for slaughter. But I know that if I am going to die, I should live happily until then.
"Hello Keishi," Caesar say, kissing my hand.
I giggle softly and kiss his cheek before sitting down. He places his hand over the spot I kissed and pretends to blush, exaggerating how flattered he feels towards the audience.
"Hello Caesar! How are you?"
"Fabulous, Keishi! The Hunger Games are upon us, and we're having a wonderful start! How does it feel to be a part of this great event?"
"Umm," I smile, "It's definitely different. I just hope I stand a chance in these Games!"
"Well, a pretty girl with charm like you has to go far! How did you feel when you were reaped?"
"Well, I was scared at first. But then, I thought, you only live once, and I've had a good life so far, so I might as well take what comes to me! Besides, I'm very thankful none of my friends were chosen instead of me. That would be unbearable."
I only wish my friends felt the same way. To be honest, I was heartbroken no one offered to volunteer for me. I probably would have stopped them, but It would have been kind is someone had tried. I've never been anything but kind; I wish some other people would try it too.
"I'm sure your friends would love to see you come back home. And what about your family?"
"Well, I was born to two very loving, very young parents. They had no choice but to keep me. They were so very very young. It was many years before they decided to make things official and get married. A few more years after that, they had my little brother, Rivett. He's only six years old, and looks and acts very much like me already!" I can feel tears start to form in my eyes, but I wipe them away quickly. I need to show them that I am strong!
"They sound like excellent people. Just like you. What do you plan on doing to get back to them?"
"I just want to survive. I don't want to hurt anybody; I just want to get home. I'm small and I can hide very easily. Plus, I'm used to missing a few meals. Just because I'm sweet, doesn't mean you can count me out just yet!" I say with a smile.
"I would never, Keishi!" Caesar says warmly, "And do you have anyone to help you out in the Arena?"
"Oh, I'd hate to have someone be my friend, only to have them die later. I do not. My plan is to lay low until I have to."
"Well, Keishi, I sincerely hope that works out in your favor," Caesar says, giving my hand another kiss as the buzzer rings, and my time is over.
The Games are about to begin! I'm going to have one more chapter of the night before the Games that will be up TOMORROW, and then the bloodbath will begin. If you have a Tribute in these Games and have not yet reviewed, telling me your opinion of how I portrayed your Tribute and other things, I WILL kill your Tribute at the bloodbath! There is also a poll up on my profile on your favorite Tribute that I'd love for you to vote on. You may chose two, and PLEASE do not make both of your choices your own characters. I also need for you to do me a favor:
Fanfiction author missbeccaaa is currently writing an SYOT that three Tributes of mine are a part of. She is currently holding voting for Tributes for sponsorship points… and I need your votes! Please go read the amazing story (just one chapter length so far) and vote for 1) Roman Caulder 2) Harbor Aberdeen 3) Fruman Bane and then two of your choice! Don't feel like you have to vote for all three of mine, but at least pick one, since I'm showing you this great story! It's one of the few SYOT's I've read with completely realistic and unique Tributes, so go go go! .net/s/7826947/2/Seventy_One_Years