Alfred "Raven" Keats VI (14) D7M
I was often seen as a lucky person. Able to eat every day, able to read books that a lot of people didn't know existed, able to sit back and relax every day, I had a lot of things people would die for. I could play the piano my parents had whenever I wanted to, sitting on a bench hiding books the Capitol couldn't know we owned while playing the music it would definitely approve of, from the Capitol anthem to Peacekeeper training music. I didn't particularly like the music, but it was fun to be able to play it.
Up and down and up and down... I was playing a simple song, one I had easily memorized a long time ago. I liked it. I liked the ability it gave me to sit back and think, sit down and just relax for a bit, without seeming lazy. I liked that it gave me an excuse for me not talking to my family without forcing me to admit that I was scared I would pass my tuberculosis onto them. I liked that it let me make the words as I went, since it was just a string of notes, something a composer hadn't been bothered to write anything past that for.
Passing through an empty life
My friends that come and go
Suffering through a meaningless strife
With knowledge that few know
For when I die I shall return
Much stronger than before
The only facts for which I yearn
Will it be days of yore?
I know that I'll return from death
But when and where and how?
Once I breathe my final breath
Will I come back to now?
That type of song was a common occurrence for me. I was a ticking time bomb, left on borrowed time until I died or killed one of my loved ones. None of that mattered, though. When I died, I'd come back. I didn't know who I'd be. I didn't know when it would happen. Maybe I'd come back before Panem. Maybe it'd be before the idea of countries existed. It could even be in the future. But I'd be coming back, one way or another. And I cross paths with my family again, no matter how many deaths it took.
Yvette Ishi (12) D7F
Barley tea. Served cold usually, though you still have to bring it to a boil. Summer drink, my textbook read. It was just giving me bullet points on a whole bunch of different teas, one of my favorite topics to learn about. I really didn't have to know anything about it. We couldn't afford a lot of different types of teas; we were lucky to be able to have a constant source of simple teas, normal ones, off-brands. Still, I liked to learn about the other types. Some calmed aches, some were soothing. They were all so amazing to learn about.
Mushroom tea, I recited to myself, setting the table for the tea we were going to have. There had to be plates. There were special cups just for our cultural tea, as well as special forks and spoons. I put out the fancy sugar and the real cream, instead of just milk. Mushroom tea is supposed to reduce tumors, though it hasn't been proven yet. The theories have some evidence, but no proof. Most studies are done on animals, not humans. I should fix that sometime.
Chamomile tea relaxes the body. Mom could use some of that, I thought, remembering how much my parents worked while I set out the foods I had made. There were a couple of small sandwiches, as well as some mochi balls I had. Those weren't really traditional, but they were the best I could do when only given a day's warning to prepare a whole tea. I didn't blame my parents at all, but I had spent the entire day cleaning dishes, preparing clothing, and making sure we had proper cleansing supplies. You could use some chamomile tea, too. You need to get more sleep tonight.
Finally, when everything was set out, I called a guest into the room. Ms. Takahashi was the first guest to come into the room, and I darted out before she could see me. I wasn't to be in the room unless absolutely necessary until my parents had been seated. They could only go in once everyone else had been seated, so it was going to be a while. Luckily, I had ways of distracting myself. Poinsettia causes diarrhea and vomiting if consumed, though it's safe to touch. Poison ivy isn't safe to touch or eat. I suppose the same goes for anything that's actually named poison.
We heard a door slam, and my parents got up, filing slowly into the room, first my dad, then my mom. I was to go in last, bowing deeply before the guests. I bowed to my parents last, showing all the respect I had for them, then poured the tea. Even though it was a tradition, one I wouldn't have been allowed to ignore if I wanted to, I didn't mind it. My parents deserved the love and respect I showed them. Tea deserved every ounce of effort I poured into it. The guests were just as valuable as my time. Every piece of effort I put into someone else was effort well spent.
Sorry Raven's is short, it just seemed to fit the whole scene pretty well. I'll make sure the boy isn't forgotten ^_^