I-III.
Florian Yarrow, 15
District Eleven Male
Angraeca Tribe
The Tapia tribe is the last to reach the platform. They seem to know that they've already lost, walking the final distance with their items in hand. The man - his female counterparts haven't joined him on the beach - claps for them when they finally reach the platform, giving a wide smile to us all. "Congratulations to all of you! But only Catharantha will receive immunity today - Angraeca and Tapia, both of you must choose one player to be eliminated."
He hands a small statue to one of the tributes with purple bandanas. It's small, golden, and shaped like a dolphin - a short round bar attaching the dolphin's body to the base below. "This is what immunity for your team looks like in this game. Every round, the winners will receive the immunity idol - keeping them safe from the vote. The rest of you will face a tribal council to determine who will leave."
He gestures to a path close to the beach, flaming torches forming a long line through the jungle. "Please follow the paths to your first tribal council, Angraeca and Tapia. Catharantha will wait here for further instructions."
The girl from Eight, Baize, limps beside me as we walk towards the path. "Are you okay?" I ask, peeking over at her ankle. It's an angry, swollen red - she'll have to cut the sneaker off if she wants to be able to sleep barefoot tonight. "That was a hard fall you took there."
"It hurts," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall."
"Of course you didn't!" I reply. "Why would I blame you? It's not your fault the ladders were so hard to climb."
She falls into a miserable silence, and I flash indignant looks at the others. They're watching her foot as well, sneaking glances when they think Baize isn't watching.
When we reach the place where the gamemakers must have intended us to decide who'll leave, I take a seat on one of the stumps and watch the others through half-closed eyes.
Finley Ammeti, 14
District Three Male
Tapia Tribe
We've already formed little groups, little alliances among our group of eight. The careers sit in a silent trio, heads lifted up high and watching for any signs of movement in the jungle. The rest of us huddle in duos, yet I sit alone at the edge of the bench. I don't want to be here. I don't even know what we're doing here, yet I know that I don't want to be a part of it.
Our supplies lie to the side of eight torches, each propped up in the ground. In the centre of the clearing is a blazing fire, lighting what promises to be a hazy dusk. An involuntary shiver, cold and clear, makes its way down my spine.
"Welcome," calls a voice. I turn in my seat, quickly noticing the shorter woman from the trio step out of from a hidden path in the forest. "I'm Cleo - Lance and Atropa will be helping conduct Angraeca's tribal council. I know this is all new to you, but it won't always be this fast. Today, however, you'll only have an hour to choose who will leave. Please, discuss. Panem is waiting."
The group is silent for a moment, then another, then another.
"We could always..." murmurs a girl, who falls into silence. Then she lifts her head up once more, eyes flashing. "I don't want to die, but they volunteered for this. They chose this."
The three careers all react viscerally - the boy from Two spits on the ground, his eyes dark and brooding. The boy from Four raises himself up from his seat, fists clenched and ready to be thrown. The girl from Two, however, is quiet in comparison. She lifts her head and stares into the accuser's eyes, then back towards the outliers.
I watch her push away from the boy from Two, closer to the rest of us.
Lazuli Oberyl, 18
District One Female
Angraeca Tribe
"Lance, you do the honours," says the tall woman - Atropa, she said her name was. She fades back into the jungle, probably to the safety of that hotel plopped in the centre of this jungle, and the man gives us a toothy grin. I raise an eyebrow, unimpressed - he's not bad looking, per se, but he seems like the type who thinks he belongs on every poster in the Capitol. There's a reason he's stuck behind a desk every day and not frontlining the promos for these Games. I don't like people who are full of themselves.
Then again, I probably wouldn't like myself if I met her.
"These torches are lit every time you come to tribal council - as the resource that will help make your life less miserable on this island, fire represents your life on your tribe as well. You will all have one hour to choose who will be the first to have their flame put out. You're choosing who you want to die from your ranks," he announces to us all. "One hour - sixty minutes to choose who you'd like to leave your tribe. You'll have more time to choose in the future, of course, but I advise you all to begin discussing this decision immediately. Your vote is everything on this island - use it wisely, or find that your flame isn't as strong as you think."
Titus murmurs something under his breath. I roll my eyes in response - I still don't know why he was chosen as the volunteer these Games. Did they know we weren't killing anyone this year? Because Titus doesn't have much going for him with only fifteen years to bulk himself up. Maybe his career needed another few years in the oven.
For an awkward moment, the rest of the group remains silent. It doesn't surprise me - they don't seem like the type to think for themselves. "We're working together as a team, right?" I pipe up, waving off Lance's frown. "I know you want to call it a tribe, honey. But if we're working together, we're only as strong as our weakest link. I think we all know who I'm talking about."
As I thought, everyone else turns around to stare at the deadweight from District Eight. I can almost hear the gears turning in their brains, it's so predictable.
I smirk. It quickly fades away, and I'm sure to erase any emotion left on my face. It won't do me any good to let them know how easy they are to read. Not yet.
Mikael Samer, 15
District Five Male
Tapia Tribe
"If you want to survive, maybe you should think about kicking out the person who did the worst in this challenge," shouts the boy from Two. His dark complexion is turning red, and I can see the anger written across his face. "We don't need good-for-nothings here. If you keep us, you keep your strongest players."
"We can be strong without you," says the girl from Twelve. I look towards her - those are the first words I've heard from her all day. "We don't need you. We have each other. We're strong too."
Makenna, the girl from Six, is whispering furiously to the girl from Nine. I watch them nod and look towards the girl from Two, who remains quietly in her seat. Do they want to vote her out?
"Just choose the young one," says the boy from Four. He nods towards me, and a wave of pure terror washes through me before I realize that it's not me he's talking about - it's the girl from Nine. "It's not like she kept up with us - she could barely make it up those ladders. She'll slow us down."
"That's not fair!" the girl shouts. Her eyes blaze, and the career shifts in his seat - he seems to be surprised that she's standing up for herself. "You don't know what else we have to do - you might need me. I can run as fast as you, just not as long. It's not my fault I'm short. I have a vote, just like you."
"But do you have the votes to keep yourself here?" the boy replies. He turns towards us all, his tone sweet and cloying. "Zirconia and Aasim will vote with me - we just need two more, right? And we have another small one here if we need a kid around."
"I'm not a kid," mutters the boy from Three. He's visibly agitated by the argument, but he's kept quiet through this as well. "And Ryelie didn't fall in the mud like the Two did."
"Aasim did a lot more than you all-" the career begins, but the boy from Two waves him off. He scowls at us all, contempt replacing his previous anger.
"Look - you need us here. Me and Lavern can get you through this," he shouts to us all - the girl from Two looks up, then towards the other girls. "I trained my whole life for this, and I'm not going to have a pack of outliers ruin this for us. You can't do this. You don't deserve to be here. The Nine couldn't even carry anything, and neither could the Twelve - you're useless. I know where my vote's going - the sooner we get rid of the young ones, the better."
Ryelie Sammons, 14
District Nine Female
Tapia Tribe
Tears begin to well up in my eyes. Makenna places a comforting arm around my back, hugging me close towards her, but I can't contain myself. They spill down my face, leaving shiny trails on my cheeks that scream to the rest that I should go home. I'm weak, they think, weak, weak, weak. Why would they want to keep me anyway?
No, I decide as Aasim continues to rant to the tribe, I want to stay. He can't tell me that I'm nothing - I'm small, but I'm not worthless. I have as much power as he does.
"You can talk. But we all choose," says the girl from Twelve. She pushes her hair out of her eyes impatiently, scowling as well. "We all decide."
"Then decide that voting out the Nine girl will get us further in the game." The boy from Two is adamant, pacing back and forth in front of the rest of us like he's some kind of high-and-mighty overseer in the fields. "You might have a choice, but you're tossing away your vote if you choose anyone but her. I'm not going to be held back by you outliers."
A clump of dried mud falls off of his shirt, and he sits back down on his bench. The boy from Four is busy talking to the boys from Five and Three, who sit back and listen - are they considering what he has to say? Are they okay with voting me out?
I feel a pair of eyes fixed on me. The girl from Two is staring at us, caught between the brewing Aasim and the urgent boy from Four. I don't think to nod back, but Makenna leans forward - enough of a welcome for the girl to move towards us. "If you need me - just don't vote me out here, and I won't you," she murmurs, her face sympathetic, warm, radiant.
I nod, and Makenna whispers the name of the person we'll be voting for.
Brendan Reeves, 18
District Ten Male
Angraeca Tribe
"Why are you going to do that to her?" the boy from Eleven objects, his voice breaking as he glares at us all. "Don't you have - have any compassion? Why her?"
I duck my head down, taking the chance to avoid being the target of his outrage. We all know who we're voting for. Even if Florian doesn't realize that it's the only right thing to do.
"Should we vote him instead?" murmurs the girl from Five, twiddling her thumbs as she waits for the argument between Lazuli and Florian to die down. "Might as well give him a chance to save her if he's gonna be so passionate about it."
"Eh, no point in making yourself a target," I murmur back. "I want us to have a shot at winning - Penny, you said your name was?"
"That's me!" She grins, then turns back to speak with the girl from Seven. I look back down to the ground, only looking back up when Lance gestures towards us.
"Please stand up - when Atropa gestures towards you, please head to the stand over there and write on the slip the name of the tribute you would like to vote out in this tribal council," he announces, looking towards us all. I'm the first to go, hastily scribbling down a name and folding the slip in half. Atropa takes it and waves for the next girl to go.
Like clockwork, we write down our votes and take our seats once more. I wait for the tension to break, so focused on the ground that I don't realize that Lance is speaking until he calls out the first name. "Lazuli Oberyl," he calls, and the girl from One scoffs.
"The second vote goes to… Baize Damask."
Baize moans in her seat, and I swallow back a sigh of relief.
"The third vote goes to… Baize Damask. The fourth vote goes to… Daveth Brass," Lance calls, and I nod. Unless someone doesn't want to go with the easy option, the Lazuli and Daveth votes were Baize's and Florian's.
"The fifth vote goes to… Baize Damask." Lance pauses, staring at us all. "The first person to be voted out of the Angraeca tribe…"
"Baize Damask, please bring me your torch immediately."
I hear the girl limp away, her weeping loud and steady. But I don't look up until the crying fades away and Penny nudges me to leave.
Lavern La Vernet, 18
District Four Male
Tapia Tribe
I feel confident in the results of this vote. The talk with Finley and Mikael seems to have gone well, and the Twos will vote with me easily - I just have to wait and hope that the two outliers haven't let me down.
Cleo taps her foot, and I realize that I've not yet written down my vote on the slip he's given me - I jot down Ryelie's name and fold the slip in half, putting it inside the jar as he instructed us to. I'm the last to vote, and the others are silent when I sit back down. Now, we wait.
Cleo hums to herself as she thumbs through the eight slips, opening each up and shuffling them back into the pile. "I will read out the eight votes - whoever receives the majority must stand up and have their torch extinguished immediately. You will then be escorted out and to your final destination."
"To die?" whispers the girl from Nine, her eyes brimming with tears once more.
Cleo doesn't reply.
"The first vote goes to… Ryelie Sammons," Cleo announces after a moment. "The second vote goes to Aasim Habibi. The third vote goes to Aasim Habibi."
Aasim shifts in his seat.
"The fourth vote goes to Ryelie Sammons. That makes for a 2-2 split."
I don't move, only wait. It's all I can do for now.
"The fifth vote goes to… Aasim Habibi."
Someone whispers to another tribute, but I don't look up.
"As does the sixth. The first person voted off of the Tapia tribe… Aasim, please bring me your torch," Cleo calls to us all. The words seem hollow, undefined, unreal.
Aasim doesn't move - not until Cleo takes a step towards us does he stand up and grab his torch. For a moment, he holds it out for Cleo to extinguish - the next, he grabs the torch and breaks it over his knee. "I - you shouldn't have done that," he snarls, turning back towards us all. He stands there, panting and glaring, his body shaking with anger.
When two peacekeepers step out of the jungle to escort him away, hands poised on their holsters, he deflates.
And then he's gone.
Seibold Carrington, 18
District Eight Male
Catharantha Tribe
We all know that we've dodged a bullet today.
Alona is at the front of our little pack, carrying our supplies and laughing with Urie about a joke that I can't quite make out. The three younger tributes hang between us all, playing catch with the flint we found at the beginning, and Silas and Fleur walk beside me. They have our water jugs in hand, holding the tough fibre that's been woven together to create the jugs with one handle each.
"What do you think we'll be doing next?" asks Silas, giving me a quizzical look. "You think we'll be doing stuff in the water?"
We both turn towards Alona, who's oblivious to our stares.
"I don't think… I don't swim," I confess. I blush, thinking of the dingy duck pond in the middle of Eight's sorry excuse for an urban park - if someone swam there, who knows what they'd come out with? "You don't do that sort of thing in Eight."
"We have a few creeks in my part of Seven," Silas replies. "Shallow, but up to your hips if you wade far enough. I can do it a bit."
"I can," Fleur murmurs. We both turn to her, my eyebrow raising. I didn't know that they had places to swim in Eleven. She turns away, thumbs fiddling with the handles of her jugs. "We… I liked to go to the water hole when I was a kid. The boys went most nights, but the girls could on weekends - if we were careful, we could get a half-hour of splashing around before curfew was close. If we do something out there, we won't drown."
"And if the younger ones have to swim?" Silas asks.
Fleur and I don't answer. We just watch Arthur, Martha, and Keaton throw the flint behind us, chattering away as they follow.
"Hey!" Alona shouts, and we all hurry our pace to catch up. She and Urie have disappeared around the huge trunk of a tree, and we jog around the bend to find them standing on the wide, vast, shimmering expanse of a beach. White sand stretches out for as far as I can see, waves washing the side of the shore into a dark gold. In the distance, things flutter away into the treetops - birds.
We've found our camp.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO COMMENT
I've been sitting on this for a few months, but I think this is the time to post. I hope you've enjoyed the read, because I've been stressing out about wording this first tribal for quite some time! Hopefully, you'll see how it'll evolve as the triplets figure out their formula for the competitions and tribals. The game has only begun, however, and our first alliances are forming... thoughts? Will you miss our first two out? Who'll be the next tribe safe from the vote? Who's already becoming a contender for our winner?
I'll see you with more words in the future - that's a promise. Until next time, TheAmazingJAJ