District 11 Reapings

Daisy "Deathborne" Agricola, 15, District 11

"Daisy, you better finish your breakfast quickly or you'll be late for school again."

Daisy looks up from her meager meal, "I go by 'Deathborne' now."

"Look, Daisy, I love you very much, but I refuse to call you by that ridiculous nickname you've come up with. It's a bit depressing, don't you think?" Daisy's mother, Dahlia, responds, shaking her head, "If you'd really like a nickname, I could call you DeeDee, like your grandmother."

"Daisy is fine," the teenager relents quietly, as she chews on her piece of toast rather aggressively.

For the most part, Dahlia allowed Daisy to express herself however she wished. She accepted the self-pierced lip and berry-based hair dye, but even Dahlia had her limits when it came to new names. Despite this, Daisy's mother largely took a hands-off approach to her daughter's dramatics, mostly because she figured it was nothing more than a childhood phase.

Daisy, however, was confident this wasn't a phase.

After all, how could her grim outlook on life be a phase, when every day she walked outside only to see a world full of pain and suffering. Her walk to school was littered with starving families and sick children, all in need of a little food and a warm place to live. For all the wealth the Capitol possessed, it seemed unbelievable that so many people were forced to live in squalor like this.

District 11 was in shambles and no one seemed to care.

The Agricolas, themselves, barely made it by living on a tight budget, as Daisy and her parents spent every spare moment in the fields. It was grueling, unrewarding work which only ever served to benefit the already wealthy.

"I'm going to school, now," Daisy states plainly, dropping her plate into the sink before heading outside. Instead of heading towards the humble schoolhouse, Daisy made a hard turn in the opposite direction, racing towards the backwoods where she and her friends would hangout while cutting class.

Daisy didn't always skip school, but she had no passion for the million and one classes her parents wanted her to take. After all, why waste her time on an education when she was destined to spend the rest of her life working in the fields, anyway?

"Hey Deathborne, over here!" calls out her friend, Shadow, who's applying a dark shade of lipstick to her plump lips, "What's up?"

"Not much. I got into a screaming match with my mom this morning, but it's whatever," Daisy lies, nonchalantly. In truth, Daisy had a pretty good relationship with her parents, but she preferred not to admit that around her friends, as to avoid being seen as 'uncool'.

"Yeah, my mom was being a real bitch too. She got pissed at me for borrowing some money from her purse," Shadow complains, "So, I returned the money to her purse and took this instead."

Shadow smirks, holding out the tube of lipstick to Daisy, who takes it with a grin. After applying it to her own lips, Daisy applies it to the lids of her eyes as liner, to bring out her dark eyes. She doesn't have a mirror, so it's probably a bit more smudged than usual, but Daisy can't bring herself to care.

"I really hate it here," Daisy muses aloud, as she sits down against one of the trees.

"Me too," agrees Shadow.

"One day, they have to wake up, right?" asks Daisy, seemingly to herself, "One day they have to see that this isn't life. This is death."

Tomato Honeysuckle, 15, District 11

Tomato Honeysuckle was the best at everything. He was certain of it.

He was the quickest runner in his class, the fiercest fighter among his peers, and most definitely, smartest boy in his entire class, if not the entire district. Sure, Tomato had never actually run a race before nor fought another person. Furthermore, his grades were well...less than stellar, but none of that really mattered when you were simply the best.

Some people were just born with natural greatness.

"Why do we have to go to the reapings again," Tomato groans, as he enters the town square with his parents, "I swear we were just here last year."

"That is how the reapings work, Tomato," his mother replies, distractedly, "You should know by now that they take place every year. But you'll be fine. With all these tessare kids around, you have nothing to worry about."

"Whatever, it's still stupid," Tomato whines, rolling his eyes, as he separated from his parents. Crossing his arms tightly, he stands with the other 15 year olds, waiting for the reaping to begin.

Truthfully, Tomato was rather impatient and hated waiting for anything, much less something as dumb as the reapings.

Looking at the stage, he watches as Devella Price finally makes her grand entry. Two peacekeepers stand by her side as an ever-expanding skirt drags heavily behind her. Devella had been around for years, but today she appeared looking completely unrecognizable. Based on his observations, the idiotic escort had pearls implanted in her face, causing Tomato to laugh to himself.

For Tomato, this was merely further proof that he wasn't just better than all of District 11, he was better than all the Capitolites, too.

"Welcome District 11," Devella drawls into the microphone, causing Tomato to roll his eyes once more. She made the whole reaping process more dramatic than it ever needed to be. Why should he care if two more random kids from his district died again?

"It is my honor to be here to select this year's tributes. Shall we begin with the ladies? Let us have a large round of applause for Miss Daisy Agricola!"

Given that this had nothing to do with him, Tomato completely ignored the selection, the stage only reclaiming his attention when he hears the female tribute yelling from the stage. From the looks of it, Tomato decides she must be from the poorer side of the district, doning torn clothes and a cheap shirt.

She was a goner for sure.

"It's rigged!" the selected girl screeches, as Tomato realizes he has already forgotten her name. He supposed it didn't really matter, given that she would be dead soon enough. "They rigged it, so you all will have to finally open your eyes!"

Seemingly ignoring the girl's cries, Devella glares in the girl's direction as she moved on to the boy's bowl, wasting no more time in selecting a name, "Tomato Honeysuckle!"

For a moment his name doesn't register, but the second he realizes he's been selected, Tomato begins to scream. Folding his arms tightly, he stomps in place, throwing a bit of a fit as the boys around him slowly inch away.

Eventually, out of the corner of his eye, Tomato notices two peacekeepers heading in his direction and rather than being caught, he pushes through them, rushing up to the microphone.

"I am Tomato Honeysuckle, the best in all of Panem!" Tomato yells into the microphone, as Devella attempts to tackle the device back from him. "I will win these games and no one else will even stand a chance once I'm in that arena! No one!"

Eventually, between the joint efforts of Devella and the peacekeepers, they manage to successfully pry the microphone from his tight grip.

"Well, I'm sure we all appreciate your confidence, Tomato," Devella finally says, appearing entirely unpleased with both of this year's selections, not that Tomato cares at all. If she was too dumb to see that she had a victor standing right in front of her, then that was her fault, not his.

If anything, this reaping confirmed one thing: Tomato Honeysuckle was the best at everything and that included winning the Hunger Games.

A/N: I can't believe it, but we only have ONE intro chapter left after this. Thank you to SilverflowerXRavenpaw for Daisy and Willuna for Tomato! Let me know what you think about these two tributes they were both very interesting to write! Also, just so you know, the next chapter will include a mini check-in, just so I can know who's still reading this fic. See you all then! -Anya