Day 2:

Charles Thomson, 16
District 6 Male

So far, the trio of Darra, Weller, and Charles were doing pretty well. They all woke up on the second day feeling pretty refreshed. Which was good because Charles had no doubt they'd need all the energy they could get. And it surprised him he managed to sleep as long as he did, because there was this sense of unease and paranoia following him around. Like anything could happen at any moment.

They had received quite a few sponsor gifts so far. Correction: Weller had received all the gifts. While they ate slices of bread for breakfast, two more silver parachutes floated down, carrying an old photo of Weller's family, and one of someone who might've been one of his friends. Judging by Weller's expression, he looked ready to cry. Charles felt pretty bad for him.

But the most valuable gift of all had to be the arena map they had gotten yesterday. It was just a paper with grey circles and brown lines connecting them, but at least they had an idea of what the arena looked like. Although, the biggest problem was that they had no clue where exactly they were.

Darra flipped the map over and over. "Man, this is confusing. There's just no way to tell what is what."
"But at least we know how the whole thing looks," Charles pointed out. "And the directions. Right?"
Darra just shrugged, narrowing her eyes in thought.

Okay, he wasn't gonna lie. These two were a little terrifying. Hell, they had both killed someone and he saw it happen. He liked them, but yesterday had made everything much too real. So Charles was doing his best to be the peacemaker, or as little of a bother as possible. Because he knew exactly would be the first to go if they all fell apart.

Weller had taken it upon himself to carry most of the supplies. "Shall we get going? Lead the way, Darra."

Darra stuck her arm out, pointing in a random direction. It wouldn't have mattered where they went anyways. The only reason they were moving was because it would make it harder for someone to track them down, and Charles remembered what happened last Games when the tributes refused to move for too long. They were hunted down by gladiator mutts.

He wasn't a big fan of all the flimsy bridges he had to cross, made of old wood and scratchy rope that left red marks all over his hands and splinters in his skin. But they were necessary if he wanted to trade one boring flat stone island for another.

A gust of wind picked up and Charles shivered.

Darra checked the map again. "Okay, I think we're...wait, no...uhhh..."
"Did you lead us the wrong way?" Weller asked her.
"Hold on, hold on! So if that is north..." She gestured vaguely. "Then...no, that would be east...hmmm...so we came from there...yeah, yeah that sounds like...alright, I know where we are now. No worries!"

"We're totally not worried, Darra," Charles said sarcastically.
"Come on, I said I got it."
"Fine. We believe you."

"Guys. Quit the yammering." Weller's voice suddenly became very low. "I think we've got company."
"What the...shit!" Darra cursed. "You've got to be kidding!"

In the distance, approaching them on a wooden bridge, Charles could see a speck of white, paired with two flashes of red. Uh-oh. He knew exactly who those three were.

Darra checked the map again. "Did I lead us...aw fuck. Guys, I am so sorry."
"Don't worry about that now." Weller dropped one of the bags on the ground and began digging out weapons. "We got a fight to take care of."

Charles fumbled through his bag, looking for his darts. He didn't really have anything to shoot it with, but he wasn't about to go into this fight weaponless. He grabbed a few of the darts and the vial of poison that came with them, careful not to prick himself, then he let the bag drop to his feet, and stood up, scanning the area-

And suddenly, there was a knife sticking out of a hole in his chest.

"Got one!" Toren yelled and the girls next to him made a few cries of acknowledgement. Charles felt his fingers grab at the knife handle, but it hurt too much to pull out. The pain in his chest was spreading to the rest of his body. He felt dizzy. He tugged at the knife again and it all felt so fake...

Darra yelled something at him. It sounded like she was calling his name. Then the girl from 1 tackled her and Darra easily blocked her knife, then knocked her to the side. Weller was taking on both from District 2 at once. That wasn't good. Charles had to help him, before Weller got himself killed. But now, he was slowly sinking to his knees, then listed sideways. He felt...numb. Dull.

The hard rock felt very cool under his skin. It was just so inviting.

"Charles?" Suddenly, Weller was shaking him, holding him only a few inches off the ground. Charles blinked in surprise. His ally slowly helped him sit up and he curled over the knife.
"Wha...huh..."

"Charles!" Weller sounded so worried. "Don't move alright? Oh God...Darra, a little help here! Do we have any bandages!?"
Charles peeked over Weller's shoulder to see Toren's body sprawled out, with a shiv sticking out of his head. His clothes were soaked in the blood that pooled out from underneath him.

A cannon fired, somewhere in the distance. For Charles, it felt like the entire arena was shaking, threatening to throw him off.

"Don't worry...he's dead." Weller shifted Charles in his arms. "I got him. He's dead. The girls ran the second it happened. You'll be okay, we can fix this. Darra's getting some stuff right now, but stay with us, alright? Just a little longer? Please? Charles. Charles! Come on, man! Charles, can you hear me!?"

Acacia Hazeldine, 14
District 11 Female

BOOM!

That was the second cannon she had heard today.

They were down to just over half of the tributes left. Somehow, Acacia was still one of them. Both of her allies were dead, but she was still here. She had supplies to keep her going. She wasn't injured either. And if everyone else kept killing each other...

Damn it. Why couldn't she have done more to rescue her allies!? She could have warned Lily. She could have saved Astrid. She could've taken out both of their killers in revenge so nobody would be harmed by them again. But she had done none of those things. Rather, she ran to save her own skin.

Would she have done it if it was Viridis and Oriole in trouble instead?

How could anybody live with that!?

"I know you feel bad," she muttered to herself. "But you've got to keep going. Your brothers need you."

It was only the second day, and she sure as hell wasn't gonna give up that early. Astrid and Acacia wouldn't want her to do that. Neither would her brothers. Viridis was probably beside himself and worried sick, and made her want to throw up to think about. And would little Oriole ever understand what was happening? How could she or Viridis explain to him that there was a big possibility Acacia was never coming back?

The Hazeldines had already lost so much. She couldn't let them lose her too.

At least she was almost at the halfway mark, so that had to count for something, right? Maybe nobody expected her to be the one to outlive her entire alliance. She was only 14, which Acacia supposed wasn't exactly a big deal, but realistically, she should've been such an easy kill.

She wasn't gonna let that happen, though. She had fought and cried to get out of the initial skirmish alive. She had family that needed her, brothers that relied on her. To die now would be to let them down, to let her mentor and allies down, but most importantly, let herself down.

There was a small beeping noise.

Acacia looked up to see a silver parachute hovering over her head. Slowly, it drifted even closer, and it was carrying a parcel along with it. Finally, the parachute was so close, she practically jumped up and grabbed it, pulling it towards her along with the parachute.

It was a plain loaf of bread. And the smell of it alone was enough to make Acacia's mouth water before she even fully unwrapped it. Bread could get quite expensive in 11, depending on how much you were buying and who was selling it you. And finally having an entire loaf to herself was practically unheard of.

It would pair really nicely with the jar of peanut butter she had sitting in her bag.

Acacia tore off a small chunk of bread. It was soft, chewy, and surprisingly, still a little warm. The bread stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she almost choked on it. Acacia quickly wrapped up the loaf, and stuck it into her bag with the rest of her supplies. She'd have to conserve this for later.

She then picked up her sickle, the only weapon she had. Small, but even a weak weapon was better than none. It gave her a fighting chance.

She now had to cross a somewhat broken bridge, that had several planks missing. Acacia gripped the ropes as hard as she could, the tight strands rubbing against her sweaty palms. Every step she took caused the bridge to shake violently from side to side. Acacia closed her eyes and stifled a groan. Oh, what a way to go. Thrown off a rickety bridge and plummeting into the sky.

But she made it across. Why was that so hard? There were bridges everywhere! And as the days would drag on, each bridge would eventually become worn down by the tributes crossing it. Or maybe the Gamemakers would break them on purpose.

Acacia took a small sip of water, just enough to refresh her parched throat. The breeze picked up, and she shivered. It had been really cold last night, and she had to sleep on the hard stone, using her bag as a pillow. And she kept waking up every fifteen minutes or so, just to make sure she was alone.

That was a scary feeling. Knowing that if there was anybody nearby, they wanted nothing more than to kill her.

Not that Acacia was afraid of being alone. No, that didn't scare her one little bit. But the terrifying thought was knowing she possibly wasn't.

No more cannons had fired yet, but she recreate their sounds in her mind. Acacia would occasionally count who was left, or who had died, just to keep track of things and distract herself. She didn't have any meals to cook or brothers to put to sleep, or homework that needed completing. It was...kinda driving her nuts? She didn't realize how much she needed routine until now.

After maybe about two or so hours had passed, she ate another chunk of now slightly cold bread for lunch. Acacia chewed slowly, as if that would magically create more bread for her to eat. But if she were to rush her meal, then she'd just feel even more hungry. No, she had to ration, ration, ration.

They didn't call it the Hunger Games for nothing after all, she thought to herself and snorted.

Clair Ivory, 17
District 12 Female

Leave me here to wither and die.

Now where did that thought come from?

Clair knew they were living on borrowed time. Time that they had unintentionally stolen from their district partner. How was it that they managed to outlive Stryker? And why did they feel so guilty about it? Stryker had way more going for em than Clair ever would. Ey had allies, support, people who would miss em. It should have be em who was District 12's last chance, not Clair. More rotten, rotten, rotten and horrible luck.

Maybe their luck had done them some good, though. They were still alive.

Clair didn't really want to die.

Someone had sent them some water and they really appreciated the gesture. Clair knew all too well what it was like to go hungry; as much as they were used to it, it was a horrible, painful feeling. Especially after a week of indulgence in the Capitol and more or less being a bit spoiled by all the rich food. They wouldn't wish starvation upon anybody.

They took a tiny sip of water, enough to feel is rush over their lips, but it was little more than just a couple of drops. But if they didn't find any food soon, they were screwed.

Clair remembered being about thirteen or so, maybe like a month or two after they became a teenager. A really bad ice storm hit District 12 and badly affected anybody, but street rats like themself were hit the worst of all, since they had nowhere else to go. One older girl, maybe around the same age as Clair now, was nice enough to let them into her makeshift shelter for the night.

The shelter wasn't big enough for the both of them. Clair had woken up to find themself pressed underneath the frozen body of the girl. She had passed away overnight.

Another kid, literally nothing but bones, was dead too. People starved to death all the time in 12. It never got less horrifying, though. What a terrible way to go, slowly slipping away and tormented by hunger pains as the days wore on until there was nothing left but a rotten corpse.

Huh. And they called this pageant the Hunger Games. How hilarious.

Clair collapsed against the rock, careful not to hit their head too hard. They probably should keep moving, but knowing their rotten luck, they'd run right into someone that had like two battle axes and a bunch of knives. Clair would be dead faster than you could say "Game Over."

So, why not stay here for a little bit longer? They'd be able to see any threats approaching them. Plus, they were starting to run low on energy. They hadn't slept very well last night. So lying here, feeling slightly cool but not cold, made them drowsy enough to close their eyes...

Clair felt like they were falling and they suddenly sat up, rubbing at their eyes.

What the hell were they doing!? Giving up!?

Clair Ivory may have just been some street kid from the District 12 slums with nobody left to love them. They literally had nothing to their name. But they had...well...themself. How could Clair expect anybody to care about them if they didn't care about keeping themself alive?

If Clair wasn't rooting for Clair, then who would?

Damn. They didn't mean to get all philosophical and poetic like that. Clair was not the type. There was nothing deep about their current situation. They were stranded above ground on a tiny stone island with a bunch of other teenagers who wanted to kill them. Find the poetry in that!

Oh shit...what the hell was that?

It looked like somebody was approaching them. And Clair was not gonna stick around any longer to test their luck. Thankfully, all they needed was their water canteen and they could easily escape over the wooden bridge onto a connecting island.

Crap. The other person saw them.

Oh no, oh no, oh no...

They were out of bridges. But the nearest island was so close, Clair could practically jump onto it. Was it worth it to try, though? What if they fell? Crap, they didn't have much time left to make a decision. The other tribute was closing on them and they didn't really want to fight.

So they jumped.

Their ankle twisted harshly underneath them and Clair thumped to the ground on the their side. They rolled over and groaned in pain. They hadn't broken anything, thank goodness, but their knees were all scraped and bruises dotted their legs and arms. The other tribute was no longer following them.

God, that was beyond scary. Clair knew they had to get up and get off this dumb island, but they felt really tired all of a sudden. Their heart was beating like crazy, a fast rhythm echoing in their ears. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Now what?

15th place: Toren Kollath, District 2. Stabbed in the head by Weller.

I feel kinda bad about this death because while I really wanted the Careers in this story to play a huge role, I couldn't really find as much for Toren to do. In comparison to the Elise vs Stravos showdown, he always felt just...there. He still helped advance things and he was great for the inevitable fight between the two largest alliance that I could see him being a victim of. And I think he really nailed that early Career concept. Thanks for him, its-suzuka!

14th place: Charles Thomson, District 6. Stabbed in the chest by Toren and bled out.

I loved this little poison nerd so much. I always have a soft spot for tributes who use more unusual weapons like hand-to-hand and poisons. Plus, Charles had that funny little rivalry with Corbyn pre-arena. However, I figured that in a fight against the Careers with his alliance caught off-guard, Charles was at a huge disadvantage. I feel bad because I did want him to go further, but I couldn't figure out how. Thanks for him, Reaper!

Current Alliances:

That Didn't Go As Planned: Elise, Bellona

That Really Didn't Go As Planned: Darra, Weller

Team District 8: Twill, Claodis

Probably Still Friends: Zilla, Red

Who knows what she's doing really: Amelia

Still Got The Fists Of Doom: Veles

Understandably Paranoid: Acacia

Probably Doing Something Bastardly: Stravos

Jump by Van Halen playing in the background: Clair

Kills:

Stravos: 2 (haruhi, Lil)

Toren: 2 (Charles, Argen)

Bellona: 1 (Corbyn)

Amelia: 1 (Stryker)

Veles: 1 (Cleveland)

Darra: 1 (Gear)

Weller: 2 (Toren, Adella)

Stryker: 1 (Astrid)

As the Games go on, the tributes are gonna start dropping like flies!

And as I'm sure you've heard in ANs from my other stories by now, school's gonna be starting up soon, and progress on my SYOTs will become a lot slower as a result. I'll still try and keep things as consistent as possible though.

Remember, sponsoring is still open! And I'll see you with the next chapter!

-Vr