Hera Cambridge, 18
District 2
It was the day before the Reaping for the 100th Hunger Games and Hera Cambridge was flying high. She had worked her ass off for the past several years to be selected as District 2's female volunteer, but especially this past year. Finally, Hera had the opportunity for everyone to know her.
Well, that's not to say most people in District 2 didn't already know who Hera was. She had always been a popular girl, between her confident personality, attractive appearance, and wealthy status, not to mention the time she was almost kidnapped. Hera didn't like to think about that part of her life. It had caused her a lot of problems, and she didn't care to dignify it with a thought.
Regardless, Hera would never be satisfied until everyone in Panem knew her name. And what better way to do that than to win the Hunger Games; and a Quarter Quell no less. Not to mention, no mother could ever ignore or belittle her daughter if she was a Hunger Games Victor.
The day of the Reaping was a sunny July day, and Hera was spending it at an abandoned armory with her three closest friends, Athena, Aphrodite, and Delia. The armory was where most of the teenagers would hang out in their downtime. The cracked cemented floor and the boarded up windows made for a pretty cool edgy aesthetic. There wasn't technically any legal business there, and while no one wanted to call it a black market, there were a couple of tables set up with vendors selling food, drinks, and homemade jewelry.
Athena was Hera's best friend in the world, and the two had been attached at the hip since birth. She was maybe the only person alive that Hera trusted implicitly, and the two told each other everything. Hera's only reservation in volunteering for the Games was that for the first time in her life, she would be without Athena. She was still struggling with the idea. In a moment of extreme, never to be repeated vulnerability, Hera told Athena that if she died in the arena, it would be up to her to lead her friend group.
Aphrodite had been friends with Hera and Athena since they were little, but they never developed the same bond with the two girls as they had with each other. Still, Aphrodite rarely left the other two girls' sides or didn't consult them before she picked an outfit.
As for Delia, she was still sort of on probation as far as being the girls' friend went. As a result, she ended up being the butt of a lot of mean comments, like the time that Hera told her that her acne was really clearing up lately. But Delia didn't seem to mind as long as she was involved in the friend group. Still, the girl was clueless at times, which tended to infuriate Hera. Delia was definitely on thin ice.
While Hera and her friends were in the middle of one last gossip session before the Reaping, they were approached by a younger boy, probably about fifteen. He had a smirk on his face, and clearly thought he was hot shit. Hera figured he was pushed by his little friends to approach the pretty girls to prove he wasn't a pussy. Hera looked between her friends, their eyes seeming to say "check out this kid."
"Hi, Hera," he said, pushing his hair out of his forehead. He was sweating. "You look really nice today."
It was true. It wasn't for a few more hours, but Hera was already dressed for the Reaping. Her dress was knee-length and candy apple red, with a sweetheart neckline and lace detailing in the skirt. Most redheads couldn't pull off that shade of red, but something about Hera's appearance helped her wear the dress with confidence. She knew that the boy meant that she looked especially nice, but she thought it would be fun to screw with him a bit.
"I always look nice, creep," she said, rolling her eyes and leaning back in her chair. She laughed, and her friends took this as an invitation to laugh themselves. The boy stood, looking uncomfortable for a moment before forcing a laugh himself.
"What, did I hurt your feelings?" Hera asked, furrowing her brow in false sympathy.
The boy flinched slightly and chuckled, trying to regain his composure. He's clearly not used to being regarded as a child the way Hera did.
"No, I just-"
Hera's features softened before she spoke again, a genuine albeit slightly condescending smile forming on her lips.
"Hey, it's okay. I was just messing with you. Thanks for the compliment."
With that, Hera stood up and gave the boy a soft peck on the cheek. His cheeks flushed and he ran back to his friends, whooping victoriously. That'll give him something to tell his friends about.
Hera turned back to her friends, laughing about the boys' immaturity before she sensed she was being watched. Granted, there was usually someone looking at Hera, but this was enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She looked up and met the eye of Castor Schultz, the boy chosen to volunteer alongside her later that day, who was staring at her intensely. He seemed to not be focusing on anything in particular. She grimaced at him and rolled her eyes. She hated it when boys stared.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked, her voice turning cold and angry.
Castor opened his mouth as if to say something, then decided against it and closed it.
"Thought so," Hera said, not breaking eye contact. "You have a problem with me, Schultz? Solve it. I'll see you on the train."
Hera motioned for her friends to follow her out of the armory. She still had some time before the Reaping, but she wanted to be one of the first ones there. Besides, she thought she should probably take her time walking there. She didn't want to be all sweaty the first time she was broadcast to the entire country.
Castor Schultz, 18
District 2
"I always look nice, creep."
The redheaded girl spit her words in such a way that they were heard by everyone across the armory. Castor glanced up and noticed everyone else around the armory trying to watch the drama unfold without looking like they were paying attention. He returned to his sketchbook and kept drawing. It was the morning of the Reaping, and he was doing what he always did to calm himself down: sketching the thing occupying the most space in his mind. And today, it was his soon-to-be District Partner, Hera Cambridge herself.
He had already gotten the basic details of her face drawn. Her full lips, her strong nose, the way the sunlight gleamed off her hair, parted directly down the middle. Most people thought Hera was beautiful, and objectively, they would be correct. But Castor had a hard time seeing past her nasty personality. She was the type of girl to go after people's insecurities to make herself feel better, then play it off as "just a joke" when they got upset.
One thing people didn't seem to realize about Castor was that he not only noticed everything, but he remembered everything as well. This skill was honed from a young age, when Castor's father would sit him in front of the television and make him watch hours of Hunger Games reruns and quiz him afterward in the hopes of one day raising a Victor. With Castor being selected as District 2's male volunteer, his father's wish was getting increasingly more likely to come true.
So yes, Castor still remembered the time when they were twelve years old, and Hera compared him to "outer District trash" when he helped a girl who had just fallen down the stairs.
"What, did I hurt your feelings?" Hera used the same voice to talk to the boy hitting on her that Castor imagined she would use on a baby. It was high-pitched and condescending, and met with a slight pout of the lower lip and a cock of the head.
Castor re-focused on his drawing and slowly erased the toothy, dimpled smile that he originally drew on her face. After thinking for a moment, he sharpened the girl's teeth until they all ended in a point, much like Enobaria, winner of the 62nd Hunger Games. Castor thought this fit her personality better than the sickly sweet smile he had given her before.
He couldn't hear what she said to the boy after that, but the patronizing half-smirk on her face told him everything he needed to know. Quickly and with purpose, Castor added a pair of small pointed horns to the top of her head, just above her eyes.
When he looked up again, he watched as Hera planted a kiss on the boy's cheek. He had a feeling she meant it as an affectionate gesture to someone younger than her- someone she couldn't help but think was just pinch-your-cheeks adorable- but Castor thought it was predatory. She shouldn't be trying to manipulate a much younger boy into thinking he had a chance with her.
The boy left in a hurry, and Hera and her friends erupted into laughter at the poor boy's expense. Castor was getting angry. He was sick of people like Hera and her friends thinking that they could walk all over people and do whatever they wanted without consequences. He zoned out a bit, consumed with the frustration that not only did Hera exist in his world, but that she of all people would be the one following him into the Capitol in just a few hours.
"Can I help you with something?" Hera's irritated voice rang through the armory, and once again, everyone looked up from what they were doing to catch the drama.
Castor snapped himself out of his trance quickly enough to realize that Hera was talking to him. Shit. He was daydreaming, not intending to look at anything, but ended up staring directly at the queen bee herself. He opened his mouth to explain the situation before realizing that it was no use. Even if it was the truth, Castor knew that Hera would have too much pride to believe that he was doing anything but checking her out, so he simply shook his head and continued to look at her, waiting for her to make the next move.
"Thought so," she said with a snarl. "You have a problem with me, Schultz? Solve it. I'll see you on the train."
With that, Hera and her Band of Bitches left the armory. There was a small silence before everyone went back to what they were doing, allowing Castor to go back to his drawing. He liked how it looked so far, but he could tell it was missing something. Something to top off how Hera really was. He erased her eyebrows and drew them back on more slanted and angry. That was better, but it still didn't have the same effect that he was hoping for.
He stuck the end of the pencil in his mouth, chewing slightly on the eraser (he knew it was a terrible habit) before reaching his epiphany. He had been determined to keep the piece in black and white, but he impulsively plucked a crimson pencil from the case and added a few dribbles of blood going down her chin.
Perfect.
"Ready to go?"
Castor looked up to see his friend Luna standing above him. She was smiling, her eyebrows softened and her light brown eyes lit up the way they always seemed to be. She was very pretty, and attracted a lot of attention from some not-so-great guys. Because of this, Castor had taken on the role of her protector, in a way. While not the most confrontational guy, he had no qualms defending her to hell and back to any trainee who acted at all creepy or predatory to her. Castor was a bit confused as to why she didn't seem to want attention from any guy at all, but he figured it wasn't his place to ask.
"Go?" he asked. "What time is it?"
"Almost one," Luna replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Reaping starts at two."
"Shit," he said, stuffing his sketchbook and pencil case into his messenger bag. "Do I look okay?"
He was wearing simple black pants with a white button-down, a few buttons undone and the sleeves pushed up his forearms, giving a slight peek at his muscular arms and chest. Luna was silent for a moment, nodding her head.
"Yeah," she said, fixated on his shirt sleeves. "Yeah. Let's go."
The two walked the distance to the square side by side, cracking jokes along the way. They completed their sign-in process and walked together into their respective areas. Luna walked with him to the 18-year-olds' section, then got up on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Good luck," she said softly, looking into his eyes, her cheeks pink. He smiled and thanked her before she walked over to the other 17-year-olds.
What was that about?
Scoria Thebes, 28
Victor of the 89th Hunger Games: District 2
Scoria was thrilled to be mentoring this year. Not only was it a Quarter Quell, but the two tributes produced by District 2 looked especially promising this year. The girl, Hera, was a knockout, her hair shiny and red, her body lean and lithe. It was clear she wasn't just a pretty face, though. There was a fire in her eyes that practically begged others to try to cross her. It was no wonder Cato had called dibs on her.
Castor was nothing to dismiss immediately, either, and Scoria was pleased that she wound up with him. He was tall with broad shoulders and clearly knew his way around a weapon. But he wasn't a monster like a lot of the would-be volunteers from District 2. It was clear just by looking at him that he was a human capable of emotions and rational thought. Scoria knew that his chances were good.
As for Scoria herself, she had been excited for this year ever since she had done the math years ago and figured out that the 100th Games would be her turn in the rotation to mentor. District 2 had several other living female victors besides her, so it had been a while since Scoria had mentored. Still, she had been doing mock-mentors for the years that she wasn't in the Capitol, keeping a journal of how she would have mentored the tributes as opposed to Lyme, Enobaria, or any of the others still standing, and she liked to think she always had better plans.
Sure, Scoria's fighting skills came in handy in her time in the arena, but what really secured her win was her pragmatic and analytical nature. Scoria Thebes always had a plan, and she never let her emotions get the better of her. Most tributes found it unpleasant when they finally had to turn on their allies, but as she was running her rapier through her former allies' hearts, she felt no remorse at all. She had known that that would have to happen eventually, so she prepared herself for it.
Scoria hoped to use the same practical knowledge that helped her win her Games to lead Castor Schultz to victory. It wouldn't be the first District 2 Victor since Scoria's Games, but it would be her first time mentoring a Victor. Granted, she had only ever mentored one year, but she had faith in herself. Besides, Castor didn't seem like he would need much guidance.
Overall, Scoria couldn't be further from pleased.
Thanks to IVolunteerAsAuthor for Hera and Mykindleisawesome for Castor!
1. Who did you like better, Hera or Castor?
2. What did you like about them?
3. What didn't you like about them?
4. Thoughts on Scoria?
5. Any predictions?
