This one's from a book...

Anger is the leader of the group. So much is certain from the demeanor of both her and her four siblings, who each differ to her judgement in most any situation. It simply makes the most sense; Anger is the one most aware of their situation. She feels it the most, that aggravating, building frustration that life seems to constantly add. Needless weight that keeps on coming. Just as it seems that there's no further need for the rage, just as life appears to be easing back and letting them breathe, it mockingly smacks them once more with some burden or other. It is - more often than not - the laws of the land (unfair to say the least, though "draconian" might be more accurate) that push them down into the mud, crushing them and stifling Joy's feeble exuberance. If it isn't that, then it is Sadness noting - almost daily, it seems - the hunger pains that stab and twist their guts, and Anger's predictable response to them. If by some miracle they weren't feeling half starved on a day, then the people around them more often than not sufficed to worsen Anger's temperament. The worst part of all? None of the five emotions could blame their host's neighbors for being so callous. They were, after all. It's just what life does to people stuck in this situation. It makes them bitter. What few friends they have mean so much more because of it.

But right now, the little red brick wasn't touching the wooden console. A few collected red orbs haphazardly stacked across the crooked wall is all her handiwork for the day. Most of the others are tinged deep violet. This day, particularly, is always an unpleasant one. Every year it comes, and every year they meet it with the same resolute dread. Fear's slim figure is all but a twig as she stands at the console, breath held in bated anticipation. Neither Anger nor Disgust, nor Joy, nor Sadness have anything to say (though the latter is fighting watery tears). Each feel the same thing that Fear feels, though far and away the tall sister held the most anxiety. Just as Joy is the most prone to laughter, and Sadness to tears, Fear is the most prone to... well, herself. A little caricature of their host in a panicked state, she stands with lip bit, swearing that her heart is pounding away (though she's uncertain if she even has one). Sweat might possibly begin trickling down at any moment. Still, the silent tension that swamps the room bullies them all into keeping their mouths shut.

'Not us,' thinks Fear, begging to... who? Whoever will care, she supposes. 'Not us. Anyone else but us...'

It started, and each of the five flinch in some way while - on the monitor - their fate is slowly pronounced. Agony. The torturous few seconds between waiting and release is nothing short of unbearable. Even if they are sentenced to death, such a thing pales in comparison to the twisting knife of time, the handful of clock ticks that are far too slow. The five stay still, and watch in rapt attention. Never once do they dare flinch. Never once do they move as they await to hear whether Fate has noticed them, or if - fingers crossed - it has chosen another victim for the day. The terse looks chiseled on their faces were not dissimilar to how they often feel out in the woods, hunting. In those silent moments, their host is a deadly foe for any unfortunate animal in their path (said unfortunate creatures tend to have a fate awaiting them at the other end of a butcher's knife). Now, though, all the bravery is gone though the silent concentration remains. It is this time every year that they feel as though they're on the other end of the hunt. As though Fate has them in her ice-cold sights, bow drawn.

Fate fires.

The blow does not strike them, and - for the tiniest second - relief sweeps them. Smiles and cheering almost commence. Sighs of ease almost break the silence. The tension almost goes away, before being yanked right back as reality sinks in. It wasn't them who Fate's arrow pierced. It was their closest friend. They will be the one to die.

"No..." Fear says, and - hands trembling - begins a panic.

They all panic.

Every last one of the five figures scramble in a frenzy. Disgust and Joy both have the words cut from their throats, horrid gasping all that's left behind. Anger screams, tears streaking her face. Incoherent, animalistic rage pounces across her, and she - in turn - pounces on the console as Fear continues her worried work. To heck with the splinters and the crooked wires sometimes poking and prodding; this is a catastrophe. Sadness is nothing but a screaming, crying ball of tears, the salty drops smearing down his face and staining his greasy overalls as he stumbles to the console. His fists slam into it again, and again, and again, a protest against the world. Against the way that life is so cruel to anyone, blindly stepping on everyone. In the end, though Anger is the leader, it's Fear who stumbles away from the console, over to the little wooden drawer next to them. She struggles to yank it open. It's jammed. Its crooked side is stuck, and she finds herself screaming a plethora of curses at it as it mocks her with its creaking laugh.

Snap!

It breaks open, and the purple figure reaches in to pull out the one item it contained; a lightbulb. A dusty, little idea. An idea so horrid, so terrifying, that Fear took it upon herself to hide it away from the others, but now she does not hesitate to jump the distance to the console and shove the thing in. Nobody questions it. They all know what the idea is. That, or panic still has blinded them to anything but their narrow, tunnel-visioned terror. Regardless, Fear doesn't second-guess herself.

It's said that bravery is the absence of Fear, but this is often untrue. Bravery is often what happens when Fear realizes a greater consequence coming, and - though all common sense points to escaping the situation - the terror felt on behalf of others is more than enough to push Fear to do things so uncharacteristic of the usually timid, trembling creature. So, as the idea comes in, and as its dusty surface heats to a glow, their host does something brave indeed.

Meanwhle, on the outside, a single figure walks down the lines of grim-faced people in a dirty crowd.

Primrose Everdeen. Her name had been called out, the sound as heavy as a hammer's fall. Just as she approaches the stage, though, a disturbance in the sea of District 12's residents. Like the waves of the Red Sea, they part before a single girl, whose pounding heart and screaming lungs propel her forward to the stage.

"Prim!" she cries, her voice a hoarse bark of desperation, "Prim!"

Just as the younger child arrives at the stage, her elder swoops in and throws an arm between her and the officials awaiting above, as though they were predators about to attack.

"I volunteer!" her voice gasps, then, more loudly, not a scrap of hesitation as she repeats, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Okay, so, the answer is Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games, as she takes her sister's place in the first book. I don't like nor hate the Hunger Games series. I mean, I only really enjoyed the first book and movie, and saw the second film, and have read the entire series, but - in the end - I just like the first book the best. But the movie's not worse or anything. So, I dunno.

Who cares? Hint time!

1. I told it all in present tense, just like the book's presented. Sorry if that was weird to read, but I just wanted to thematically tie in there.

2. Everything about HQ, from the emotions' clothing to the console, emulates the poor state of District 12, where - obviously - Katniss grew up.

3. Anger is definitely a leading emotion for the "Girl on Fire," no doubts about it. Her temperament is volatile, and she is defiant to the end. That's Katniss. This isn't to say she's someone you couldn't get along with (though I don't think I would), it's just that she's definitely predisposed to Anger.

4. I tried letting you know about her being a hunter without making it too explicit.

5. The light bulb about her volunteering. This is a bit of extrapolation, I'll admit, but up until Prim gets called, I don't think Katniss ever once considered volunteering to be a good idea.

6. I did not explicitly call Prim her sister, but - rather - their "closest friend," and I know, you could argue that belongs to Gale at this point in the story, but I had to work around the familial tie to Prim, otherwise I just thought the hint would be far too big.

7. Notice that Fear fuels bravery, and I really believe that to be the case in many instances; in this instance, her fear for her sister blew away any fears of her own fate, and she willingly threw herself into the line of fire to protect her sister, without question. That's a good example of bravery not necessarily being the absence of fear. In fact, I'd argue that fear is necessary for bravery to take place, otherwise you're not being brave, you're just doing what's right. Bravery means knowing there's danger and taking the risk anyways.

Temporary Note: stay tuned for another entry tomorrow (to compensate for the lack of an entry last week)!