Laurent Veinot
District 1 Male
Age 18
3 weeks before the reaping
"You can't be serious." Laurent nods, slowly and thoughtfully tucking a strand of his messy mop of dark brown hair away from his eyes.
"I am!" Analis says, way louder than she probably should have. Laurent sighs, putting his finger to his lips to quiet her. He shoots Analis a glare as there's a sudden shifting in the bedroom beside Laurent's.
"No freaking way."
"Yes, I want to volunteer."
"She's brainwashed you, these games are fucking pure murder Analis." Laurent reasons with his younger sister, his voice not above a harsh whisper as he watches Eamon's, his little brother's, light flicker on. The yellowish glow flutters across the hallway like a swarm of insects. Not unlike the ones that attacked the wine grapes last summer.
"No, they're not, they're fun, and besides, volunteering is the only way to bring victory back to One. Can't you see we're becoming laughing stocks in the Capital?"
"Forget the Capital, I can't let you die." Laurent whispers, trying to keep the pain and emotion from seeping from his lips.
"You don't believe in me, do you?" Analis skeptically scowls. Her wavy blonde hair flies wildly in the sharp breeze that ripples through Laurent's open window. Analis's light emerald eyes shine fiercely bright, even in the dim darkness.
"That's not true, it's twenty-three other tributes, Carnel's convinced you the odds are good. When they're really not. Please, don't listen to her."
"Try and stop me." She hisses under her breath. Laurent takes a deep breath, remaining calm as his sister angrily fumes. Analis is known for hardly ever losing her shit, but somehow, someway, their Aunt has done something to her brain. She's convinced his little sister to volunteer, even though she's only seventeen.
She's only a year younger than Laurent but he feels the need to protect her. He's the oldest, it's his job with their mother being too busy and their aunt… well, she's not a good option. Laurent absolutely hates Carnel and the fact she's been able to convince Analis the games are safe. That she needs to bring honor back to One, when she really doesn't.
It shouldn't be her responsibility and Laurent doesn't know what he'd do if he lost his sister to the games. As much as he hates killing and training, the truth is staring him so blatantly in the face. She's going to try and volunteer and nothing he can do will stop her. Laurent hates seeing his playful, fun-willed sister turn on herself in such a way. But it's to be expected, all they ever hear their aunt talk about.
They live with the woman and due to the fact their mother often spending her days working, they get to hear from her a lot.
"I will, because I'm your older brother." He says as Eamon's door opens with a harsh creak.
"What's going on?" Eamon whispers into the night, standing in the doorway to Laurent's bedroom. Or he shouldn't call it a bedroom, it's more of a tight closet with a few blankets on the floor.
"Nothing, please go back to bed," Laurent whispers.
"Your brother is being stubborn." Analis mutters under her breath but Laurent hears. He lets out a small, wiry sigh before turning back to her.
"You know I don't like losing my head or getting angry with you, but I want you to know that if you volunteer, I'm coming in after you to make sure you get outta there."
"Only one of us can make it out though…" Analis says, her voice slowing as she processes his words. "Only one of us can go."
"Or neither of us," Laurent replies.
"Carnel won't be happy then, you both know that." Eamon pipes up, and both Analis and Laurent whip around back to him, the siblings both having forgotten he is still resting in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. He's only four years younger than Laurent but wise beyond his years. He's a lot more mature than his peers for fourteen.
"We can try and reason with her." Laurent suggests, trying to keep the exasperation from lacing his voice. He knows neither of his siblings quite see his side to the disagreement but he has to try and make them see, no matter what.
"She's making perfectly valid points though." Analis says, "we need to bring honor back to One."
"Why one of us? Why not any of the other trainees?" Laurent whispers.
"I think Aunt Canel's onto something with the family of victors that are loyal to the Capitol and that being One's ticket back to the spotlight."
"Well, fu- screw One." Laurent says, almost cussing in front of his younger brother but catching himself.
"WHAT?!" Analis cries, her voice all the sudden loud and high, "we live in One!"
"I don't care about the District, please, I care about you, Analis." Laurent says.
"Well you should, and I do care, deeply, about the state of our declining District."
"I don't though, our District can go to hell, you, however, mean more to me." Laurent reasons, running a hand through his messy mop of dark brown hair.
"Don't say that," Eamon pipes up, defending his sister and Laurent bites his lip. He's not one to get angry or upset and often beholds his temper, but his sister is about to waste her life away over the lies their aunt has fed to both her and Eamon. She's conditioned them to believe the things she wants and that makes Laurent so mad because he cares deeply about his siblings.
Laurent takes a deep breath, calming himself before replying, "whatever, but please Analis, sleep on it?"
"No. I'm volunteering, you can't stop me. Aunt Carnel is right, a popular family in One needs to bring home more victors, it'll boost One's status."
"Status shouldn't be worth your life." Laurent reasons.
"I've been training, I'll win, trust me." Analis whispers, her voice faint like a strong whisper.
"See, it's that kinda confidence that'll get you killed in an instant," Laurent replies.
"I can win, I know I can. And," she rolls her eyes at her older brother, "I'm going to bed."
"Fine, get some rest, see you tomorrow for our early shifts." Laurent says and she spins on her heels, pivoting in place.
"I think I'm going to go back to bed as well," Eamon says, not waiting for a reply before slipping outta the doorway like the speedy stick he is.
Laurent stands there for a second, watching both of his siblings' doors shutting before he crumples into his pile of blankets. And soon enough, he's able to drift off to sleep.
Blue Hollis
District 7 "Male"- NB
Age: 15
3 weeks before the reaping
Blue knocks on the cottage's front door, scanning for any sign of beehives through the rough, overgrown weeds that surround the side of the neat little house. Wildflowers bloom along both sides of the house, bright budding colors that radiated against the chilly District Seven sunshine.
For a second, no one answers. Leaving Blue standing on the porch, hands weighing down the pockets of their sweatshirt. They continue awkwardly standing there for a second, feet rooted to the oak floor. Blue slowly lets out a small sigh, but, just as they're turning to leave, bewildered by the Collens' absence, the door swings open with a loud thud. The pine beholds a young man who smiles at Blue. They turn back to face him, holding their breath. Blue's eyes trace the man's tall features, lining his dark, shaded irises that trace the veins under his skin, creating blood-shot, overly red and puffy eyes, probably from a lack of sleep.
They smile, holding their hand out to shake Mr. Collens formally. Blue loves pretending to act all formal, even if it's always not necessary. Mr. Collens seems taken aback by the gesture but does, in fact, reach out and shake Blue's hand.
"Blue Hollis, here for the worker hive removal," Blue says, oddly confident in their words.
"Oh Blue! Come on in! The bees are out back." He says cheerfully and takes a stride back so Blue can step into the house. They hesitate for a second before following the man into the cozy little domicile.
The ceiling is a little low, but Blue isn't the tallest so they shoot the man a small grin as Mr. Collens starts to lead him to the backdoor. Blue takes in the house for a second, marveling at it's features compared to their home. Blue enjoys the silence for a second, admiring the pure calmness that is the complete opposite of their own.
Being one of seven siblings definitely entitled a life of chaos but Blue doesn't mind. It means less attention on them from their parents. And less attention means more freedom, more freedom to do what they wish. Most teenagers would use that as an excuse to drink or drop outta school but not Blue, they take the opportunity to slip out into the backyard and spend their days under the pale, clear crisp sky. There's nothing more enjoyable than listening to a delicate hum coming from their beehive.
In Blue's opinion, bees are better than people. They would much rather spend an afternoon outside with the yellow, tiny animals than awkwardly standing, words unspoken, with some other people from their class. Blue hates awkward situations with a burning passion and often will go out of their way to avoid them. Which, most of the time, means avoiding people altogether.
"Thank you." Blue mumbles as Mr. Collens opens the broken and rusty backdoor. He seems nice enough but something about him made Blue get a bad sorta aura. But that's probably just Blue being paranoid, Mr. Collens is probably a very nice man who loves his wife.
Speaking of his wife, where is she? She's the one who requested Blue to remove the hive from the couple's backyard. They'd presume she'd be here to help them find it. But even if she's not, that's alright, it's their business, not Blue's.
"No, thank you." Mr. Collens sighs, closing the door behind Blue as they step out onto the cracked and crumbled pavers that line the back door.
Blue shakes off the bad and eerie vibes they get from the young man and get to work. Quickly they open their transport case, pulling out the bundle of protectant wear out. Blue takes in the wildflower scenery as they continue pulling on the white protective suit over their jeans and worn T-shirt.
They make their next moves quickly and carefully, extracting pieces of the hive in sections. Slowly laying the pieces down into the case, smiling as they work. Blue's hands fly over the honeycomb, tracing its hexagon pattern with their pointer finger before lifting that section up into the transparent glass case.
Blue had saved up for three months to buy that case when they were only eleven years old. Best purchase they have ever made. Blue loves the thing to death. They find satisfaction both in helping others by removing the bees and helping themself by gaining more bees for their backyard hive.
They slowly and cautiously lift the last piece of the hive into the case, making sure that all of the worker bees are located safely inside before shutting the lid. Blue lets out a heavy sigh, hands running along the side of the glass panel box.
Suddenly there's a high-pitched scream coming from inside the house. It's an extremity of pure anguish and terror. Blue whips around, confusion lacing their figure as their eyes pick apart the cottage. They can't tell exactly where it came from or who made it, but Blue did know one thing for sure: a pleasant afternoon is suddenly now an escape case. Or at least a get-away-and-get-the-peacekeepers-involved kinda thing.
The fastest way out would be to go around the side of the house, run through the wildflowers, and out onto the cobbled street. Blue takes a deep, strangled breath as they throw off their protective gear. They roll it up, grabbing both the suit and the case.
"This way." Blue whispers to themself, ducking into the overgrown weeds.
They dash this way and that, avoiding anyone as they rush out into the street. Blue has never been the fastest runner but when there's someone else's life possibly involved, they can book it to the justice building in no time.
"Collens." Blue pants as they open the giant double doors. The golden doors highly expensive looking for such a middle-class District. Blue is met with a collection of white-suited peacekeepers, all armed, which makes Blue quiver just the slightest.
"What's your name boy?" One of the peacekeepers asks, turning to face them.
"I'm not a boy but it's fine. Tt's the Collens." Blue heaves, setting down his case as one of the peacekeepers bends down with him.
"You heard h- them, the Collens are in trouble, are you waiting for an invitation? Go." The head peacekeeper commands, turning back to Blue, there's a concerned look that hints in his pupils as he purses his lips, "you need any help? What did you see? Can you get home alright?" he asks.
"No, I heard a scream and I can get myself home."
"Alright, thank you it seems we've had some other rather strange reports from the Collens, so thank you."
"No problem." Blue softly smiles, still terrified and shaky but glad they could help somehow.
They pivot on their heels, quickly making their way out and away from the justice building and the screams it beholds.
Tessida 'Tess' Wovey
District 8 Female
Age 16
3 weeks before the reaping
Tess sits quietly beneath the small tree, tucked in its comfortable shade. Even in the winter months, District Eight always has rays of August heat some days. It turns out today is just one of those days. Tessida loves those days, loves the heat- perfect weather for adventuring. Not today though, she's only just started preparing for her next thrill.
So, she plants her nose in a book of quite literally, plants. Written across the pages in a nicely typed manor beholds knowledge upon knowledge of any type of plant she could even think of.
"It's not like there are many plants in Eight anyway," Tessida mutters to herself, slowly looking up from the clean, milky white pages that swam before her. She watches the people in front of her move about the square, unfolding into normal, daily plans. She watches carefully their movements, their talk, their personas, all of it.
It's all in the way her brain works and watching people helped her. Not in a way she could explain, it just does. Besides, she likes watching people interact in ways she knows she probably never will. It's not that she hates others, no, she just doesn't like the part when she has to pretend to be someone else entirely.
"You should go out today, even if it's just a small adventure." Tess tells herself, "even if it's barely preplanned. Be spontaneous for once." Her words spark an idea in her head, even though she's not much of a spontaneous person herself.
She scrunches up her features, thinking hard on the subject for a second. What's the worst that could happen anyway? Whippings again? And even that wasn't bad, she survived, didn't she? Tessida bows her head, tucking a small strip of fabric in her book to mark its place. She rises herself off the soft grass, smiling as she darts between the bodies bustling through the District's Town Square.
Suddenly someone grabs her wrist, whipping her around in place. She starts to let out a small scream, heart pounding, before she recognizes the features before her. For a second, Tess can feel the girl's emerald green eyes looking her up and down, observing her like Tessida likes to observe the people around her. Calico lets a small sigh escape her mouth before turning away from Tess. It's clear her grabbing Tess's wrist was a desperate flinch and not meant to happen.
Still, A painful blow strikes Tessida's heart at the silent movement. She feels like ripping her chest to shreds as her ex-girlfriend lets go of her wrist. Tessida can feel the instant tension rise between them as she lets her arm sweep down to her sides.
Neither girl says anything, just stares, or, Tess stares and Calico looks onward but doesn't walk away. Tessida's eyes burn holes into Calico's back as the dark-haired girl takes a step backwards. She can feel the tears coming on, even from the small interaction. She takes another step back, fingers balled into fists. Nails pierce against the soft, tan flesh of her palms, staining the tops of her light fingertips a dark crimson.
Tessida's mind spins a mile a minute as the world around her freezes, pulling apart the people that waltz around the pair. Her head feels light and airy, like she could just float away if her feet weren't held to the ground like lead bullets.
How her feet haven't burned holes in the cracked cement beneath her, she has no idea. They feel as hot as lava, burning like lasers under her soles. Yet, they continue backing up as if all on their own. Her movements feel robotic as she stares at the girl's back, eyes narrowed to keep the tears from slipping out from the corners of her dark eyes.
After a few steps, Tessida whips around and starts tearing off in the other direction. Calico's voice stings in her ears, pain even worse than the whippings, worse than any punishment she could think of. She tries to block out the memories that bombard her like a rushing flood.
The time they had sat up in her attic, laughing as they joked about everything under the sun. The time the pair had watched the sunrise over the factory lines. They had smiled for hours before the sun popped it's head through the lines of smoke that rose to the vibrant sky, threatening to choke out the swirling colors as morning fell upon them. The time they had explored an abandoned factory itself, going through the old boxes all marked with the names Zach and Savannah.
Tessida knows that eventually Calico's image will fade, but for now, it burns so badly. It's a yearning for the person she once was with her. The true Tess. Now that girl is buried somewhere deep beneath the layers of faces, masks and facades, never to be seen again. And that's how Tess likes it, not having to show her inner self will certainly lead to less heartthrob. Less heartbreak when that person decides to up and leave.
In turn, she prefers to avoid people, burying her nose in books. Traveling to new worlds where ex-girlfriends don't haunt around the District, praying on her heartstrings. Worlds where she can do all the adventuring she wishes and not worry about the repercussions.
It's not like consequences played much of a factor in Tess's world. She only ever has done something that big, once and she paid dearly for that. Paid dearly, yet, the whippings- but the pain didn't even come close to the demons that dug their claws into her chest at the thought of Calico.
"Get your mind away from there," she whispers to herself, quiet enough to avoid the ears of the people that surround her.
The people march past her, all rushing to get to their shifts at the factories that scattered the District. Everyone worked at one of them, for there isn't much else to do in Eight, so might as well flow with their place in society.
Arobyn Marston
District 1 Female
Age 15
3 weeks before the reaping
Arobyn flies through the forest, a dagger pinned carefully to his side. His legs burn with the heat of a thousand suns but does he stop to rest? No. His breath comes in short gasps but he doesn't dare risk looking behind him as the shadowy creatures float above the treetops. A small hiss rises down, invading his ears, overtaking his pounding heart.
He dashes through the undergrove, the dark capes getting closer and closer. He tries to scream but his mouth clamps shut, forcing out a horse whisper only. His jaw burns as his teeth grind together, the taste of iron seeping into his tongue. Arobyn can practically feel the demon's foul breath as he sprints through the pines.
"Arobyn." The collection of black figures cry out, descending from their high positions amongst the leafy tops.
He tries to say something but his jaw doesn't open. His heart pounds widely in his chest, beating to its own terrified melody. Footsteps ring like chimes behind him, creating a cold sweat that clings to his forehead.
That's when he turns around, hand flying to the bayonet tucked neatly in his belt. He unsheathes the weapon, waving it wildly at the monsters as they descend upon him. He looks them up and down, fear practically trickling out of his ears but does he show it? No. He remains calm as they slowly make their way towards him, circling around his body.
"Arobyn." They call again, whispering his name into the wind as he hears a small scratch of an animal in the distance. So he isn't alone after all.
Four of the seven cloaked monsters turn to the sound, capes flowing behind them as they levitate a few feet off the pine needle floor. Their long flowing cloaks hiding their outer appearances.
The other three advance towards him. They take no look at his dagger, flying slowly towards him. For a second he stands frozen, but then quickly acts on the adrenaline that pierces through his veins. Arobyn takes a step forward, throwing the dagger at the first shadowy figure. It flies through the air like an arrow, finding it's mark in his target's chest- or what he thinks is his chest.
"Arobyn!" someone shouts and there's a sharp tug at his shoulder, shaking his head Arobyn turns back to the monsters. "Arobyn," the voice says again, this time louder.
Arobyn shakes his head again, steering himself away from the daydream as he looks up into a pair of deep brown pools of bittersweet chocolate. Aya lets out a small laugh as she bounces on her heels, shooting her best friend a small, cheeky smile. He stares at her for a second before darting his eyes to the notebook that lay spread out before him, tales of dragons, monsters, heroes and witches interlacing the pages.
Heroes.
In all his daydreams, Arobyn is the hero, no longer the slightly overlooked youngest child of the Marstons. It's not like his family hated him or he hated them, they just never really understood his ideas. His mother tries to be supportive but Arobyn can see it in her eyes, she's confused by him and how much time he spends in his own head.
"How's it going?" Aya asks, her voice sweet and silky as she turns around his small closet of a room.
"Good, what about you?" Arobyn says, his head still drifting a tad bit to the forest he was just running through.
"Great!" Aya says, shooting him a grin as he looks back down to his notebook. "I know you were imagining something, tell me everything." She has always loved listening to his stories.
"It was the forest." Arobyn sighs, still not sure if she means her words when she asks him about his fantasies.
"Like dense jungle terrain?"
"Yes exactly." Arobyn nods.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes, and dark hooded figures were chasing after me. All I had was a small throwing dagger to defend myself, so of course, at first I chose flight."
"And then?" Aya replies, her features practically hanging off of his words.
"Then I turned to fight them, knocking out the first and then…" Arobyn says, losing his sentence as he hears footsteps outside his door.
"Then?"
"Then you came, wait, how did you even get in here? My windows shut?"
"Not locked though." Aya chuckles, sending a mischievous smile his way.
"Oh god, you wanna sneak out don't you?"
"Not necessarily…"
"Don't lie." Arobyn laughs, smiling at his friend as she turns as red as a tomato.
Aya giggles for a second before admitting, "alright maybe a little. I just wanna do something fun, my parents have me cooped up all day."
"I'd take that, my sisters and parents always want me doing stuff out and about all day."
"Jeez, this is why we're friends. I keep you from locking out society- don't try and tell me you don't want to, and you keep me from going insane with my parents."
"I guess so." Arobyn shrugs, running a hand through his messy mop of brown hair.
"So, loser, you wanna do something?" Aya asks, pushing open his rusty window with a grunt.
"Don't hurt yourself, that metal is rusty." Arobyn warns, concern lacing his features as his best friend precedes to throw caution into the wind as she leaps through the frame.
"Oh come on, it's not even that far to the ground, this is the way I came in." She calls, making Arobyn rush to the window. He knows she's gotten into his room through his window several times but never has he thought to go out of it himself. Uneasiness clings to his stomach as he looks over at Aya, only a few feet below the window. Butterflies flap in his chest, pattering the nerves that flutter through his body.
"Just jump, you'll be perfectly fine." Aya rushers as he sighs, throwing his right leg over the frame. Arobyn takes a deep breath before sliding down beside his best friend. She holds up her fist and he bumps it with his own. "See, that wasn't so bad."
"I guess so, that's not the scary part though, it's the idea of getting in trouble that worries me."
"Well don't let it, if your mother asks, I'll take the blame."
"Thank you." He mouths as Aya throws his arm around his shoulder, launching into a rundown of her newest project.
A/N: Annnnd we're back with another chapter! Staboom epic shit. This was actually a really fun intro to write and I really enjoyed these peeps. I'd love to hear your thoughts tho! Who do you think can make it the farthest? Any favs this chapter?
Anywho, I'm sorry about not posting last Mariesday, I had some irl things come up on top of the fact I had very little motivation to write. But I got outta that slump, I think, and am here to present 1/3 of the tributes! Hope you enjoy and yeah, that's all I got. As always- have a good day/night/afternoon.
Bye for now,
Marie