I was hoping for all the forms to come in but I should have known that would be a long wait... anyway here's Two. Updates will be slow until I finish Swing Vote but then I can focus more on this.
Nero Inculta, District Two male (18)
"Yes, like that Nero Inculta."
It was probably the single most common thing I said upon meeting someone new. Yes, I was named after Two's first Victor. Yes, I was his nephew. No, he didn't tell me the secret of how to win the Games. He died less than a year after his victory, remember? Before I was born? Uncle Nero may have been good at winning the Hunger Games (well, he did it once, anyway. Really there would have to be a pattern to say he was good at it) but he was terrible at money management. Six months later he had so much debt he went back to the quarries. He was a lot better at dodging Tributes than he was at dodging falling rocks. Rest in peace, Uncle Nero.
Despite my indifference about some guy who died before I was born, I was alike my uncle in some ways. Namely, that I was volunteering for the Games. Two was one of the richest Districts but we weren't as rich as people thought. Our fledgling new "Career" industry was about our only chance of prosperity. If I didn't take a chance I'd be stuck working for Catullus all my life breaking rocks and swinging sledgehammers. Not that I was ungrateful. Swinging that sledgehammer eight hours a day meant picking up a sword on the weekends felt like picking up a feather. The throwing knives were so light it was like throwing a paper airplane.
Personally I was really excited to see where the Academy went. As soon as it opened I was one of the first to sign up. I'd always been an early adopter. They say "look before you leap" but I preferred "he who hesitates is lost". I was a strong guy. I was a kinda smart guy. I was a pretty handsome guy, which didn't matter but it was nice to have confidence. Anyway, I had as good a shot as anyone at winning the Games.
"It's not too late to back out," Mason said after a sparring match. He wiped some sweat from his forehead.
"What would I do that for?" I teased.
"To not die," Mason responded. I was never good in psychology class but Mason and I were definitely examples of nurture over nature. Mason came from a poorer family and people always picked on him. Years of bullying had left him cautious and pragmatic. Meanwhile I was The Great Nero Inculta's nephew and that meant I was automatically the best thing ever. It was the main reason I started hanging out with Mason- he was the only one who treated me like a normal person.
"I get it. I really do," I said. "But, like... I could die here, too. Working in a quarry isn't exactly the safest job." It was a retread of a conversation we'd had a million times. Mason was "lucky" enough to work as a low-paid janitor while I was on the front lines breaking rocks. Worst-case scenario, a falling chunk of granite took me out like it took out Nero the First. Or a driver doesn't look where he's going and flattens me like the father I never even got to know. Best-case scenario... I'm forced out at forty-one with ruined knees and busted shoulders and spend the rest of my life walking with a cane like half the other middle-aged quarry workers. There just aren't many options in Two. Might as well seize a faint but brightly burning chance at a life beyond any of our dreams.
"This isn't one of your long-shot schemes," Mason said, his smile reaching his mouth but not his eyes. We'd had some good times putting together plans with big payoffs and big risks. Some of them even made good, but it seemed like somehow they always evened out in the end. The Hunger Games would be the one that made or broke me once and for all.
"I guess it's just my life. And I have to live it," I said. All in. In for a penny, in for a pound. Balls to the wall. A million other old cliches about putting it all on the line and changing your life for better or for worse. I knew what I was getting into, probably better than Mason thought. I knew that if I lost the Games I would die. I guess it was just easier for me to see that everything carries risk. Everything leads to death eventually. All we can do is use every bit of our lives for all they're worth. Even if it means betting it all on a chance to win it all back a hundredfold. Double or nothing. Victory or death.
Nailah Nebit, District Two female (18)
District Two is a land of contradictions. We fiercely brag about our independence but most of our wealth comes from the Capitol. We're held up as bold warriors who fear nothing when really only a small minority of us train. Most people in District Two have normal District-related jobs, like anywhere else in Panem. For every Academy student there's ten kids working 12-hour days in the quarries. And honestly a lot of them are stronger than most of us. Training for the Games doesn't mean you'll win. It means you'll almost certainly be in the top eight. That still leaves seven Tributes to die.
I knew my parents had reservations about me training. Honestly I agreed with them. I stuck out a lot in the Academy. I didn't mean that in a "I'm not like other girls" way. It was just that I was a lot more cautious and conservative when it came to my strategies. I was one of only three girls in my class who used a bow and arrow. A lot of people looked down on it for being a remote weapon. That was why I wanted it. There was a reason that the bow, and later the firearm, pretty quickly and completely wiped out the use of swords on the battlefield. The point of a war isn't to win in a grandiose fashion. It's to not die.
"Watch that pot," Teta said, looking at the garlic browning in olive oil. My grandmother and I always made dinner on Saturdays. It was a way to help out around the house and it also gave me time to connect with my history. Teta was around before the Dark Days. Not only did she know a lot of invaluable national history, she also knew about our family's heritage. We only had tiny bits of that left now, from the grape-wrapped mahshy rolls we were making to the meaning of the name we shared. Once Teta told me that story I asked my parents why they named me "achiever" if they didn't want me to volunteer.
I turned down the heat on the pot. The last thing I wanted was scorched black garlic bits in our mahshy. If Teta was commenting on the garlic then that meant it was done. She knew if she told me too early I'd get overcautious and turn it down before it was ready. Like everything else, cooking was about balance. It was something I'd been working on, both by myself and with the Academy counselor. With Dr. Talc most of our work was focused on helping with my anxiety in crowds, I found the same principles applied in other areas as well. One thing I was working on lately was the idea of "a good start". I didn't need to try to stop having social anxiety overnight, or even ever. Instead of burning myself out trying for that I could work on little things that would help a little. Maybe I would never be a celebrity playing to a massive crowd, but I could use my breathing exercises and the little bracelet I liked to fiddle with and I could do my day-to-day living without trouble most days.
Every time I cooked with Teta I wished I could ask her about all the exciting war and culture stuff they had way back when Egypt was still a world power. Of course Teta didn't know any of those stories- she was eighty years old, not eight hundred. All my family knew about that was what we could find in history books. But I did know they had archers back then, just like me. And I knew warfare was a long and delicate process and it took cunning and patience before the kingdoms were united. And I had my ring. I liked to pretend it was from ancient Egypt but probably it was a bit more recent than that. It had been in my family for at least five generations and probably the records from before that just got lost in the Dark Days. None of us could read the hieroglyphics etched on the inside of the band. I liked to think it said "Nailah". Me and my grandmother, winning the Games and making a new legacy. A couple of achievers.
