*Note: as it's a full year before the 88th Reapings, these three actually are a year younger than they're listed. However, I've left them the same as they are on the blog/cast list to try and avoid confusion. Enjoy!

Vikram Lamentations, 18*, District One Male

July 2nd, 87 ADD

It was a hot day for a funeral.

There were only about ten people in attendance anyways. Few ever came. They were all clearly feeling the heat, sweating and fanning themselves as the final words were spoken over the caskets. The same could not be said for the two fallen children inside those caskets. But Vikram wasn't focused on the heat- he was focused on the heaviness in his chest, the wetness in his eyes. He'd been to so many of these funerals, but they never got easier.

In front of him, the caskets began to lower into the earth. Their shining nameplates, labelled Bianca Yves: 11th Place and Paris Laurent: 2nd Place, quickly disappeared with them. Workers began shovelling soil on top of them, burying the dead tributes, and the few who had gathered started to turn away. Before they left, Vikram offered them his condolences, even hugging Bianca's weeping mother and Paris' little sister. He cried with them. Then they all left, unable to bear the sight of their children's graves any longer.

Vikram stayed, though.

Vikram always stayed.

Instead of leaving, Vikram went for a stroll around the graveyard. He'd been many, many times, and he knew its paths well. He traced his way to last year's tributes, Duke and Adora. He'd stopped by recently, and the flowers he'd left on their graves were still fresh. Beyond that were Glowla and Virgil- he made a mental note to return on a cooler day and get rid of those weeds. He gave a solemn little nod to each of them and kept walking.

He didn't really want to go home. There was probably no one there, but there would be eventually, and he didn't feel like being criticized. His family had never been a fan of his habit. To be fair, he'd never been their biggest fans, either. He'd go by the Academy, but he knew what was happening there- the trainers were picking apart Bianca and Paris' performances, using them as cautionary tales for upcoming trainees. And the other trainees were probably making fun of the dead. Dishonoring the dead. Vikram didn't need to hear that. These people had died for District One, and they deserved so much better.

He wondered what it would all look like next year. After all, this was his last funeral before his own. Would they say his name with reverence? With sorrow? He clung to the idea like the safety blanket it was.

When I'm gone, they'll finally love me, he vowed to himself. They'll finally understand.

It was all he'd ever wanted.

He looped back around to the freshly laid graves of Bianca and Paris. The workers had just finished up, leaving Vikram alone. He bowed his head, paying his respects, before he forced himself to head home. He always had to leave eventually.

Unfortunately for him, the house was not empty when he returned. The Lattershine family butler, Cobalt, was waiting by the door as Vikram walked up.

"Your father has just returned from the Capitol," Cobalt warned.

Vikram immediately tensed. "Where is he?"

"In the kitchen," Cobalt replied.

"Thanks," Vikram said. Cobalt was one of the few people in his life Vikram could stand, and he was grateful every day that his father had saved the man from the electric chair all those years ago. It was one of the rare good things his father had ever done.

Cobalt inclined his head in reply. Vikram gritted his teeth, bracing himself- there was no way to get to his room without passing through the kitchen- and went inside. Immediately, the air conditioning hit him, making his skin prickle. Vikram ignored it and headed deeper into the house.

He found his father in the kitchen, as Cobalt had told him, fixing himself a drink. He kept walking, but his father's words stopped him in his tracks.

"Back from the funerals?"

He turned slowly, fumbling for a reply. He'd been hoping his father would ignore him back- clearly, that hadn't worked. "Yes. I'm going to change- it was very hot."

"Mmm," he father murmured. His eyes met Vikram's. "Please tell me you weren't actually mourning them."

"Father," Vikram said faintly, "it was for-"

"Bullshit," his father cut in. Perhaps several years ago, his expression would have changed, but he was several Botox sessions beyond that now. Instead, he glared at his son with all the vigor he could muster. "Thank God you changed your name. You're too much of a goddamn softie to be a son of mine."

He took a swig of his drink. Meanwhile, Vikram fought against the lump in his throat. "Father-"

"And you're still planning on Volunteering, eh?" he interrupted again. "Planning on joining your friends in the ground?"

"Stop it," Vikram pleaded, his broken heart twisting in his chest. "They died for our District."

"They died in vain," his father scoffed. "And you will too, if you even get picked. Seems like you're too busy crying all the time to train."

"I thought you wanted this?" Vikram asked. Was nothing he did good enough for this man? There were tears in his eyes, he could feel them, and he desperately hoped his father didn't see them. It would only make things worse.

"I wanted you to man the fuck up," his father jeered. "Now fuck off, will you?"

Trembling, Vikram turned and left, practically running up the stairs and into the refuge that was his bedroom. He peeled off his sweaty clothes and headed straight for the shower, turning up the pressure so his father wouldn't hear him cry.

They'd see. They'd all see. His horrible father and his cheating mother and his self-centered sister, a year from today, would finally understand what it was to mourn. They'd throw the most magnificent funeral for him and sob and wish they'd appreciated him when he was alive. His nameplate would read Vikram Lamentations: 2nd Place, just like Paris' had. And Vikram would be free from them forever.

They'll understand.

Boe Killarny, 15*, District Ten Female

August 14th, 87 ADD

"What happened this time?"

Boe didn't bother trying to hide her bloodied knuckles or bruised cheek as she replied. "Some kids were pickin' on Sable."

Her mother ushered Boe inside. Three of her siblings- her older brother Weiler, sixteen (sporting a black eye), younger brother Robin, twelve, and her younger sister Sable, Robin's twin- followed her through the door. The group joined the eldest Killarny sibling, Winifred, in the kitchen. There, her mother began to patch up Boe and Weiler, starting with Weiler.

Winifred caught sight of Boe's knuckles. "The walk home from Dad's is only ten minutes. How do you always manage to do this?"

"Those kids won't leave Sable alone," Boe replied. "And they brought some older kids with them, tryin' to intimidate us. But we weren't intimidated."

"No ma'am," her brother Weiler muttered.

"Good on you, protecting your sister," her mother affirmed. "Sable, you alright?"

"I'm- I'm okay," Sable stuttered. A telltale sign that she was not, in fact, okay.

"Maybe your father should start walking you kids home when you visit him," her mother suggested. "Then those kids might leave you alone."

"We can handle them just fine," Boe replied. "We handled them today."

"I mean, they did get a few hits in," Robin, silent until there was an opportunity for cheekiness, chimed in.

"Shut up, Robin," Boe shot back.

"I mean, look at your face!" he crowed.

"Robin-" Boe warned, already getting fired up again. Usually she preferred to defend others, but if her brother insisted-

Winifred rolled her eyes. "If you guys are gonna be obnoxious, I'll go study somewhere else."

"We are not obnoxious," Boe replied, offended. "Why, you wanna fight too?"

Winifred didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, she scoffed, grabbed her book off the table, and stalked off in search of a quieter spot.

Meanwhile, their mother was bringing Sable a cup of water. "Drink that, hon, you'll feel better," she told her.

Sable nodded shakily and started gulping it down.

"Robin, take Sable to your room and help her calm down," her mother ordered.

Robin saluted, then took his twin sister's hand and led her out of the kitchen.

Her mother turned to Boe and Weiler. "You two," she began.

Boe figured that in any other household, she and Weiler would be in for a good reprimanding. That was what usually happened at school, anyway. They didn't care that Boe was defending her friends or even herself- no fighting allowed. However, Boe's mother was of a different philosophy. After all, Boe had picked up on this tendency somewhere.

"I want you to keep looking out for Sable," her mother continued. "This is the third time this month that little gang has gone after her, and I don't like it."

"The gang is twelve years old," Boe replied. "We can handle them."

"You said they had older kids with 'em," her mother said.

"Well, yeah," Boe replied. "We can still take them."

"That's right terrifying to a kid like Sable," her mother countered. "And you know she stutters more when she's scared, and that makes everything worse."

"Will it ever go away?" Weiler asked. "The stutter?"

"Maybe if she's not worried about bullies," Boe said. "We've just gotta keep lookin' out for her and she'll be fine."

"Do us all a favor and don't tell your father about this," their mother said. "He'll just worry himself sick about it."

"Of course," Boe replied. The Killarny parents were divorced, but on good terms. Boe may have inherited her mother's demeanor, but her younger sister Sable definitely took after their timid, unsure father.

Quinn chose that moment to burst into the Killarny home. "Boeeeee!" she shouted. "You ready?"

Boe's best friend strode into the kitchen, her hair as wild as her eyes. Behind her was her younger sister, Tyra, who looked a little uncomfortable with just bursting into Boe's house. Weiler took the opportunity to slip out of the kitchen- he'd always been more of an introvert.

Quinn noticed the fresh bruise on her cheekbone. "Woah, what happened?"

"Usual stuff," Boe told Quinn. Then she turned to her mother. "I told Quinn and Tyra I'd hang out with them today."

"Well, at least wash your knuckles first," her mother said. "Don't want that getting infected."

"Yes, ma'am," Boe replied. She headed over to the sink to finally wash the blood off her hands.

Tyra sighed. "I wish you'd consider talking out your problems for once."

"No point with those kids," Boe replied. "I'll smack 'em around as long as it takes until they get the message."

"The message being?" Tyra pressed.

"'Stop going after Sable,''' Boe said.

"You could try, you know, telling them that," Tyra replied.

"Oh, come on, Tyrannosaurus, they don't have brains up there," she said, smirking and tapping her temple. "This is the only way they'll learn."

"Hey, lay off," Quinn said, nudging her sister. "It's Boe. She's got it handled."

"Thank you," Boe replied. "That's the spirit."

"You girls want a snack before you head out?" her mother asked. "Where you goin', anyways?"

"We're fine, thanks," Quinn answered. "And I've got a gig tonight playing with the band, and these two promised they'd come."

"Well, have fun!" her mother said. "And Boe, it's a school night…"

"I know," Boe replied. "I'll be back at a respectable hour, promise."

Her mother nodded her approval. Boe quickly finished tending to her bloodied knuckles, not wanting to keep her friends waiting. After all, they had plans, and Boe wasn't one to let people down. Especially not the people she cared about.

After throwing on a much cuter top, Boe, Quinn, and Tyra were out the door and on the move. It was hard to believe that life could get much better than this- keeping her little sister safe, summer nights with her friends, freedom in her every step. She had it all, as far as she was concerned, and that made her fearless.

It felt good.

Cloud Juniper, 16*, District Eleven Male

August 17th, 87 ADD

Cloud really wanted his ukulele back. He couldn't have it, but that didn't stop him wishing.

It was a rare day with nothing to do, no obligations, and Cloud was taking full advantage of it. By Cloud's definition, that meant laying outside in the warm grass, staring up at his namesake as they swirled in the sky. He closed his eyes and brought his hands to his chest, pretending he had his wooden ukulele in his hands. It wasn't difficult- he'd made it himself, and he knew every inch of his instrument like the back of his hand.

He hummed to himself, plucking at the imaginary strings. The lyrics started floating through his mind, and he sang them in his heart as he played his imaginary ukulele.

Black clouds are behind me,

I now can see ahead,

Often I wonder why I try,

Hoping for an end,

Sorrow weighs my shoulders down, and trouble haunts my mind,

But I know that the present will not last,

"And tomorrow will be kinder…"

Cloud's eyes shot open and he stopped humming, looking around for the voice that had joined his. It only took him a few seconds to spot his older sister Star, sitting down beside him in the grass.

"Star," he whispered, all sense of peace gone, "you know we can't sing that."

"Cloud," she replied teasingly, "there's no one around to hear."

Heat rose in his cheeks. "But Dad-"

"Dad's not here either," Star interrupted, more gentle this time.

Cloud relaxed a little as he released a sigh. "I wish he was."

"Me too."

They weren't talking about their adoptive father, Mr. Foxton, anymore. He was the one who'd stayed behind with them, who they referred to as "Dad" because, well, that's what he was. They were talking about their birth father, the one who'd left them almost ten years ago. Star remembered him better than Cloud, who could barely remember his father's face. It was there still, but it was fading, and it terrified him.

All Cloud really had anymore was his family ballad, and there was no way he was letting it go.

"You think we'll ever find him?" Cloud wondered.

"I don't know, bud," Star replied. She shifted onto her back, laying beside her little brother on the ground. "We have to make sure we don't get found before we go looking for others."

"That's a good line," Cloud murmured. He made a mental note to write that bit of wisdom down somewhere. I could probably pull a poem from that one…

"Thanks," Star replied. She squinted at the afternoon sky, silent for a moment, before she spoke again. "What do you think that one looks like?"

"Which one?"

She pointed, directing his gaze off to the right. "Right there."

Cloud considered. "A duck."

"A duck?" Star asked, incredulous. "Then what's that pointy bit?"

"Its horn," Cloud replied.

"Since when do ducks have horns?"

"He's a very special duck. He's the last of his kind," Cloud answered.

"Does he have a name?"

"Billy."

Star looked over at him. "That's a very plain name for a duck with a horn."

"But it has a bill," Cloud replied, his mouth curving into a smile. "So he's Billy… get it?"

Star smacked him on the arm, but she was smiling. Cloud laughed, rolling away from her.

"I want to hear more about Billy," she said. "Got a story for me?"

"I always have a story," Cloud replied. He thought for a moment. "Billy's on a mission."

"What kind of mission?" Star asked. She was two years older than Cloud, but she'd always loved his stories, from the more serious, artistic ones to the goofy, unedited tales of magic ducks. And Cloud loved telling them, especially when he didn't have to hide.

"Well, he's the last of his kind," Cloud repeated, wheels turning. "But there's a prophecy that somewhere out there, there are more horned ducks. But since their horns are so valuable, they're hiding from hunters. Billy wants to find them so he can be safe with them."

"Cloud," Star said softly, catching on to the metaphor.

"But he's being hunted too, since he's one of them," Cloud continued. "So he needs a safe way to travel."

"Cloud…"

"So he turned into a cloud," he finished. "He's up there, looking down at the ground, searching for his friends. He hasn't found them yet."

He finally rolled over to look at his sister, whose eyes were full of sorrow. Part of him wished he'd picked a happier story, but sometimes the sad stories were the ones that needed to be told.

"Cloud," she whispered again. "Maybe… maybe we could get the instruments out from under the porch, just for tonight. I'll try to convince Dad…"

"It's okay," he sighed. "We can't. I know. And after last week with the Peacekeepers, there's no way he'll agree to that."

Star, a self-professed "plant nerd," always had the Peacekeeper's eyes on her. Cloud didn't understand what was so illegal about bringing plant-made medicine to neighbors, but apparently it wasn't allowed. Especially not when it was tied to a forbidden culture. She'd had a run-in with them last week, and after the incident, their adoptive father was even more wary than usual. It was justified, but it didn't mean Cloud liked it.

Star sat up and changed the subject. "I found some primrose today, and I managed to sneak some home. Want to help me replant it?"

"I'm okay," Cloud replied. "Have fun."

She reached down, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be right over there if you need anything."

Cloud nodded wordlessly. His sister stood, brushing a stray blade of grass from her skirt, and headed over to the garden she kept in the corner of their small backyard. Meanwhile, Cloud kept watching the sky. Billy watched him back, and Cloud felt a twinge of sympathy in his chest.

He and Billy really weren't all that different in the end. At least Billy knew for a fact that the other horned ducks were out there.

Because hope as he might, Cloud couldn't be so sure about the Covey.

Hi everyone, and welcome to the first round of intros! Thank you to Paradigm for Vikram (as well as Vikram's moodboard!), chcolate for Boe, and StephenSwiss for Cloud- it's awesome to have you guys back again. I'm really looking forward to hearing what everyone thought about these three, as I had a great time writing them! It looks like each kid's intro will end up being about 1k, which is where each of these clocked in at (including Vikram; I know his looks a lot shorter). And as you might have noticed, we're keeping it chronological, so not everyone has had their birthday yet.

If you're wondering who's up next/when we'll meet everyone, there's a list on my profile! I'll see you guys next time with Georgette, Abner, and Mila :) looking forward to hearing from you guys!

-r-b