District 9 Pre-Reapings
Oswald Marigold, 14, District 9
"Os, I'm starving," complains Pavel, loudly, "We haven't eaten anything for two days."
"I know…" Oswald winces, watching as the younger boy picked at his tattered clothes, "If only that bread we found hadn't been moldy, we might have been able to make it through the day. Though, I suppose that is what's to be expected when digging through a stranger's trash..."
"Stop whining, Pavel. Os is doing his best. I can make it another day...maybe two…" Rilla chimes in, decidedly. One look at the bones poking out from her malnourished body implied otherwise.
"I'll take care of it," replies Oswald, "I'll just have to be extra careful today."
Oswald knows the layout of the market like the back of his hand. He has, after all, been studying it for as long as he can remember and as the food supplies dwindle, he knows it's time to once again put that knowledge to work.
Returning to the market like this was risky, especially with the increased Peacekeeper presence around the time of the reapings, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Besides, if he hits the bread stall just before noon, Oswald is confident he'll be able to lift two loaves of bread under the guise of the lunch rush. In the afternoon he'll have Rilla and Pavel distract the aging Mrs. Emmers long enough for him to swipe a few bushels of corn. And late in the evening, just as everything begins to close up, he'll scavenge for scraps with the hopes that one or two merchants might pity his plight or mistakenly leave some valuable goods behind.
It's not much but it'll be enough to get him and the others through the next couple of days...so long as none of those pesky peacekeepers catch them in the act. He's not sure he could take another beating.
The mere memory of the batons hitting his bare flesh was enough to cause Oswald to flinch, but he couldn't think about that now. Not when the others needed him.
Survival is all Oswald has ever known. Abandoned as a young child, he was left to live life on the streets. As the oldest of a small, tight-knit group of other orphaned and abandoned children, he slipped into a role of leadership and responsibility.
He's never really minded the role, but the pressure to provide could sometimes be difficult, especially given that he, himself, was all of fourteen years old. Nonetheless, he took his duties as a caretaker seriously and refused to fail his peers, regardless of the personal risk.
"Alright, you two stay here. Look after the others," Oswald instructs to his two younger companions, "I should be back within the hour, alright?"
"What if you're not back?" asks Pavel, worriedly.
"Os is an old pro," retorts Rilla, "He'll be back, I'm sure of it."
Oswald can only hope she's right.
Taking a slightly torn sack and slinging it loosely over his shoulder, Oswald takes one final look at the abandoned alleyway that they had turned into a makeshift home before slipping out into the harsh, bright sun of Nine.
The children here needed him and he would not fail them, not today, not ever.
Rudy Buckner, 14, District 9
"Rudy! Are you coming?" comes a yell from her open window, "The winner fights you next!"
Peering into the front yard Rudy catches sight of her three older brothers engaged in what appears to be a mock-wrestling match. Her eldest brother, Maximilian, seemed to be refereeing while Dylan and Brian rolled around in the grass, attempting to land a few properly placed punches. At the moment Brian had the upper-hand but Dylan was known for holding his own. Needless to say, it was a good thing her mother was out of the house this morning, for she would have surely thrown a fit at the sight of it.
Rudy, however, lives for this sort of thing.
"I'll be down in a minute. I'm just putting the finishing touches on my painting!" Rudy calls back, returning her attention to the artwork before her. Maximilian had been the one to teach her how to paint and how to fight. For Rudy, fighting and painting were one in the same, they merely two different mediums of art to master. Max always told her that a brush could be just as powerful as her fists, if not more.
For this reason, Rudy had always looked up to her older brothers, seeking out their advice whenever dealing with neighborhood bullies or arguments with her mother. Unzipping her paint-stained jacket, she haphazardly tosses it at her bed where it misses and crumples down upon the floor. For a moment she considers picking it off the floor, but decides against it, opting to barrel down the stairs and join her brothers, instead.
"Who's winning now?" she asks Max, as they watch their brothers spar intensely. The fight had considerably picked up pace since she had last looked through the window, though she noticed how careful her brothers were to avoid seriously injuring one another.
Luckily, due to her smaller size, she didn't have to restrain herself nearly as much. Her size, however, also meant that she didn't actually win all too often.
"I think Dylan is. If he can manage to pin Brian down for good, I'll call it," replies Max, "After your match we were thinking of taking dad's shotgun down to the field to try and nab a few birds. You in?"
"Fuck yes," Rudy affirms with a broad grin. She never turned down an opportunity to go shooting with her brothers, feeling glad to merely be included in their endeavors and adventures.
The shotgun had been in the Buckner family for ages and was far too old to be considered a threat to the Capitol. Furthermore, very few people could actually buy bullets from the single shop in town, where every purchase was regulated and tracked.
Maximilian laughs heartily, "Better not let mom hear your talking like that. She'd probably threaten to wash your mouth with soap for all those un-ladylike words."
"Well in that case, fuck that," Rudy replies with a cheeky grin. She loved her mother, she really did, but she had never been one to subscribe to her mother's ideals of femininity.
Max shakes his head with a small smile, before whistling loudly to end the fight, "Dylan takes it!"
Brian groans, but takes the loss like a true gentleman, as Dylan pulls him up from the floor. Both boys are covered in dirt and grass stains as Rudy eagerly awaits her turn.
"Alright, Rudy, come at me," Dylan encourages, as Rudy readies herself.
Just as she's about to rush at Dylan, Brian comes out of nowhere and swoops in, picking her up, laughing gleefully as he runs towards Dylan. With her newfound height advantage, she manages to throw a hard punch right at Dylan's jaw, that she worries might actually bruise.
"And Rudy wins!" Max calls out, as Brian gently places her back down on her feet and she breaks into a celebratory dance with the rest of her siblings.
Looking around, Rudy can't help but smile. She doesn't know what she's done to earn such a wonderful family, but as she laughs with her brothers by her side, Rudy thinks she must be the luckiest girl in the world.
A/N: Omg! We are getting so close! District 9 was a really fun district to write! Anyway, a huge thanks to Revenant12 for sending Oswald and to AlexFalTon for Rudy. Sorry for a bit of a wait here. I'm possibly thinking of transitioning to a weekly or bi-weekly update schedule for the next couple of weeks just to get me through the rest of a busy semester, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter, nonetheless! -Anya