Soren Sinclair
District 5 Male
Age 18
3 weeks before the reaping
"You ready?" Keaton whispers, his voice raspy but strangely quiet. Soren takes a deep breath, nodding back at him as he tries to keep the worry from lacing his tan features. He doesn't even want to think about if they were to get caught sneaking into Mr. Java's office, the consciences would be horrid.
"I know that look, com'on we're so close to figuring out this murder, her murder." Keaton says, slightly shaking his best friend's shoulder. His words shake Soren from his slump, but not entirely in a good way. He's not exactly sure how he should feel about the act anymore. The murder of his long-time crush had deeply shaken Soren's view of the world around him.
He does know one thing, Alida's death awoke the inner detective Soren had thought he rid himself of when he was a young teen. When he was younger he used to pretend he was solving cases everywhere around the District, acting like he could crack even the toughest of crimes. He would even carry around a small magnifying glass in his pocket, always scanning for clues.
That dream has since faded but his curiosity hasn't, and besides, Mr. Java has been embezzling money so he could very well at least know what really happened to Alida.
"I guess," Soren says, his voice comes out slightly shaky as he tries to keep as much emotion from leaking out as possible.
"Let's go then!" Keaton smiles a little too happily for Soren's liking but he knows that's just how Keaton is- always so optimistic. He chuckles lightly, grabbing Soren's forearm and lightly tugging him forward. Pulling him out into the night's frosty, winter air.
Soren's footsteps are very hesitant at first but soon he takes a deep breath, letting Keaton pull him forward through the night. The pair race through the darkness of District Five, letting go of the worry that clings to Soren's mind constantly.
His shoulder-length black hair whips slightly at the edge of his greyish purple beanie, as if wanting to be let free into the wind. But Soren won't take off his hat, never, not even with just Keaton-
Suddenly, in the distance, Soren sees a shower of sparks alight. Against his will, they shake him from the trace he'd brought upon himself and bring him back to the dark reality of the night.
His grey eyes scan the small flame, unable to tell how far in the distance it is. The fire is at least a good distance from the pair, so Soren isn't too worried. It's probably just the peacekeepers training or something, nothing much. The fire should be out very soon.
"Fire?" Keaton asks quickly, but Soren just nods. "Fire," Keaton repeats, motioning to the flames in the distance as if he could stop them with his bare hands.
"No, leave it be, it's probably just training for peacekeepers or something." Soren whispers, his voice barely audible in the night.
"We should at least check it out, Mr. Java can wait. There could be people dying!" Keaton says, and as much as Soren's face tries to plead with him, Keaton's feet take flight. His footsteps pound on the loose cobbles of District Five as he races away. And for a moment, Soren just stands there, confused at his best friend's actions.
He knows Keaton always tries to do the greater good, so he shouldn't be very surprised. It just can get a tad annoying every once in a while.
Soren sighs lightly, the idea of turning around and heading home courses through his mind, but only for a split second. It's replaced quickly with his loyal instincts.
Scarlet blood drips down his hand, as he pivots on his heels. Soren uncurls his fingers, he hadn't realized he'd dug his nails so deep into the soft flesh of his palm. A bit of a nervous tick sort of ideal he'd wish he could drop.
But he just wipes his hands on his black shirt, before cursing his friend and taking off into the night.
Soren's run is not as effortless as Keaton's, nowhere near close, but he tries. He's already tired after just a few minutes but the flames are growing larger and Keaton isn't going to stop. Not now. Soren can tell that his mind is set on putting this flame out. When Keaton's determined, he won't ever quit. Both he and Soren do that, it's one of the few things they have in common.
Soon, they get to the house on fire and much to Soren's surprise, there are no peacekeepers around. He lets out a sharp gasp, pulling his dark greyish purple beanie father down his forehead.
Whilst he helps Keaton grab the garden hose, Soren lets his gaze slowly sweep around. He scans for any sort of evidence, curious as to who started the flame. He gasps again, watching a slim, shadowy figure leap from a neighboring rooftop, sprinting into the night. The form disappears into the darkness and Soren can't help himself. He's now the runner, his mindset on catching the villain.
Keaton nods at him, as if understanding and Soren starts off towards the figure. They slip through the night, a hood covering their face and much of their body. Soren forgets about everything around him, the idea of catching the pyromaniac filling his mind. Catching the killer is all he can think of, pure adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Chasing after the criminal is very much out of Soren's comfort zone and 'normal'. At any other time, he'd hate to put himself out there but this person could have killed someone. Someone like Alida, and he isn't going to let them get away with that.
From the way the person moves, it's probably a woman but he could be wrong. He's learned it's best not to assume, not until there's proof. Proof is the biggest part of a detective's job, the hardest piece.
Gathering a mighty sum of courage, he starts to pick up speed and soon he's right behind the figure. He takes a steady breath before throwing himself at them. The shadow lets out a feminine grunt, struggling to keep her hood on.
She digs her nails into his arms, struggling fiercely against Soren's grip.
"Who are you?" Soren whispers, but just as he does, the girl sends a punch to his face. He lets go of her for a split second, dazed and confused. Yet, that's enough time for the girl to slip away from Soren, only her amber eyes striking him as she escapes. "Fucking shit." Soren curses. He pulls his beanie, which had become loose in the chase, down farther, turning and heading back towards Keaton- the figure long gone.
Arnau Armendarez
District 10 Male
Age 18
3 weeks before the reaping
Arnau rests the small of his back against the rear of the barn, leaning against the rusty metal. His gaze slowly watches the sun heave its way down the horizon. The sunset's colors swirling around the herdsman, painting a vivid avenue panning through the sky.
Arnau turns away, slowly counting down the minutes until his shift is technically over.
Of course, during the winter, farmers have less work than in the hotter months. Especially in such a nowhere town on the outskirts of District Ten, such as his own. However, he loves livin' where he does, it gives him and Othniel the freedom to cause as much trouble as they please without gettin' into hell by the peacekeepers.
Only three more minutes now, until Arnau can go home for the night. He'd finished his maintenance for the day but his 'shift' didn't get out for another few minutes. And even though, most kids his age would just leave- Arnau knows how important honesty is and feels responsible for finishing his job. Stirring up trouble could wait.
Arnau likes to think he's responsible, always making sure the job is done- and done correctly. Otherwise, he'd have to redo what he's done, and that's never fun.
1 more minute...
Lots of folks have asked Arnau how he's able to tell the exact time of day, just by looking at the sun. To be honest, he doesn't really have a good answer for any of them. Over eighteen years, he's just kinda learned to read the sun. It's a weird skill his brain just kinda does.
"Look at that! Five!" Arnau beams, pushing his back off of the barn. He smiles at the setting sun, chuckling to himself as he gazes towards a dark brown Quarter horse sitting as patiently as him on the left side of the barn.
Before Arnau can think, he's on the horse's back. Being from the outskirts of District Ten, cars and motorcycles are extremely scarce, leading its inhabitants to turn to horses for transportation.
Arnau doesn't like calling Cocoa Puff his, because no animal technically belongs to a human but he has taken care of Cocoa Puff since he was a very young boy. He loves this horse and how much Cocoa Puff matches Arnau himself.
Lots say you never do know a horse's personality but he sees himself in the chocolate-colored mane of Cocoa Puff. In his dark eyes, Arnau can see he's patient, yes, but he loves to have fun and go for rides. He enjoys everything he gets, not taking a single thing for granted.
Just like Arnau.
"Giddy up!" he shouts into the wind, squeezing his calves slightly. Cocoa Puff takes off, heading towards the main road, away from the Henerson's old cattle farm. It's once great and flourishing nature, now a rickety few herds of cattle, most of which are inside for the winter. Yet, he still works hard for his pay, doing all he can for the extremely poor family of nine.
After a tenish-minute trip down the lane, Arnau pulls the horse to a stop. He jumps down, beaming to himself as he ties up Cocoa Puff's reins to the house's railin'.
Then, he turns, knocking gently on the doorframe to the small house his older brother lived in. Ari was twelve when Arnau was born, making the cowboy grow up as if he were an only child. However, even with the age difference, the brothers were strangely close- always getting along whenever they visited.
He's greeted with his sister-in-law opening the oak frame, she smiles sweetly at him. Elia wraps her arms around him, ruffling up his hair into a mess. Her laughter filling Arnau's warm heart. Elia has always been like an absolute sister to him and he loves to hear her happy.
"At least let the bloke in before smotherin' him." Ari chuckles punching his little brother lightly in the arm.
"Not a chance," Elia responds, but even with her words, the sweet woman lets go of Arnau. Only for him to be tackled to the ground by his little 4-year-old niece.
"I missed you!" Aya squeaks, hugging tight to Arnau's waist as he gets back up to his feet.
"I missed you more." Arnau says, gently letting go of her hands so he could kneel beside her. He digs in his jean pocket for a second before his hand comes out with a small paintbrush. "I got you something."
Aya's soft brown eyes practically glow as she squeals with excitement. "For me?" she asks.
"For my favorite kid in the whole world." He says, putting the paintbrush on her small palm. She squeals again, wrapping her arms around his neck, clutching tight to the brush.
"Thank you!" she says, letting go of her uncle before running into her room and grabbing a small piece of paper. There are already close to fifteen small drawings covering the length on the bottom, squished together to save space on the small page. Yet, with the brush and some paints Arnau is already saving up for, she could paint anything she wanted.
"You didn't have to do that, y'know how tight money can get with Mom and Dad." Ari says as Arnau gets slowly to his feet.
"I know, but I saved up for a few weeks to get that, I ain't takin' anymore than a few cents a day outta my check."
"I still don't like it, don't you have bills to pay?"
"Com'on loosen up, it's not even that much."
"Ari, let the boy have fun with his niece, you know your parents won't." Elia sighs, "would you like to join us for dinner Arnau?"
"I guess, whatever." Arnau's older brother huffs, rubbing his daughter's back lightly.
"I'd actually really like dinner with y'all if you don't mind, thank you for offering." Arnau smiles.
Lapis Jademoore
District 12 Female
Age 16
3 weeks before the reaping
Lapis slides the tan manilla envelope across the ivory table, peering at the man who sits calmly before her. Mr. Yroven's hands sit neatly tucked in his lap as he stares off into space. His eyes capturing a foggy appearance, beholding a facade that she could only guess lead to an enchanting daydream.
The young woman clears her throat, shaking the man from his trance. His glassy expression doesn't shift as his eyes slowly fall onto the girl's messy handwriting that decorates the top of the envelope. Letters loop across the folder, all chalked in the same inky blue penmanship.
"What's this?" the man asks, eyes peering at Lapis standing before him. She confidently taps to the title, eyes scanning the change of expression from Mr. Yroven. She lets her brain wander as she notices the way his teeth fall in a perfect line, cheekbones lined with late-night wrinkles. Stress pinpointed his features, bringing out the bags under his eyes. His dark iries deep like black tourmaline- one of her favorite gemstones.
"What's this?" he repeats, his tone firmer, as if doubting her work.
"You know what this is," Lapis repeats, standing up even straighter. She holds herself with a confident stature, standing her ground to the inquisitive man. He's playing dumb, she can tell. Lapis lets out a small, wiry sigh. She has no time for this. Doesn't he know she has other buyers to get to?
"I'm afraid I do not." The man whispers, his voice formal as he swallows forcefully, eyes staring at her as she searches for lies. She watches his black pupils dilate, only for a split second, then shrink back to their normal size. But that second was all she needed to sense the deceit formulating in his words.
Lapis takes a deep breath, letting the man think of what he'll say next. Only for a second, toying with his lie. Her gaze quickly scans the office around her. Tattered, old posters line every wall. They hold what she guesses were once colorful graphics of Capital bands and artists alike. She runs a hand through her dense, brown curls. Her eyes locked on the midnight blue, (expensive-looking) guitar leaning in the corner.
"You like music?" she questions, not necessarily expecting an answer but trying to loosen the tension practically dripping between them.
"No no." The man lies, slightly bowing his head in submission as his hands reach for the envelope in front of him.
Lapis narrows her eyes, she is no dummy. She watches closely and cautiously as his gnarled, thick fingers trace over her words. A small smile hugs her features as she crosses her arms over her chest in a triumphant stance.
"Fine." The man sighs, giving in to her subtle confidence. Lapis always likes to forefront her strengths, that way no one can see what's on the inside.
"Thank you." Lapis says, nodding twice to herself before pivoting on her heels. Her beaten, completely worn down sneakers squeak on the Major's wooden floor.
The entire District may be over here suffering but so long as the Major has a crystal clean office, everything is freaking fine. Lapis sighs to herself, the balance in District Twelve is unbearable. Leaving poorer families struggling to even pay for food, let alone rent.
Many of the kids are uneducated and starving. They're left out on the coal-covered streets because their families have too many mouths to feed. Left to fend for themselves.
Lapis's heart goes out to them, being from a poorer family herself.
She often tries to help them, giving them any extra money or food she has on hand. She is a bit of a thief because of them but Lapis always strives to have the right intentions. Trying her best to help those in need.
She turns, making her way across the District's broken cobbles as she ducks into the dark shop's entrance. It's her parent's gem shop, but in many ways, it's more so her own. Swiftly, she unlocks the door with a simple brass key from her pocket, watching as the door swings open with a clang.
"Mom!" she calls, "Dad!" When no response utters to her ears, she just shrugs. "They must be sleeping still." Both had an egregious tendency of crapulent and drug abuse, so she's not surprised they are still sleeping. Last night had been pretty rough on the pair and she's most certainly not one to blame them for it.
Indeed, they must be sleeping because Lapis enjoyed working in the early hours of the morning. It's easier that way. And it means she gets to spend her evenings to herself- and her own thieving business.
"It's not like I always steal." She murmurs to herself.
Lapis speaks the truth, or at least her truth. She only steals when the poor people around her need it the most. When they are about to give in to society's punch to the face- that is when she steals. And only from the people who can afford to lose a little. Those who could handle sparing a little loose change to help others.
"Open," Lapis whispers to herself, flipping over the sign on the front, wooden door. Not many buyers came into the shop, so she mostly came to them. Much like she had done this morning.
However, this morning wasn't a gemstone sale like the rest of them, not at all. It was information, knowledge she has sold to the Major who will, without a doubt, share to the Capital.
"But it's fake," Lapis smirks quietly to herself. She had given the Major dishonest information about where the Rebels were hiding. It's not like she could give away her colleges or where they were located.
Most are residing in the devilish depths of District Fourteen but a few worked their way into the heart of her own fiery district.
At that thought; Lapis can't help but smile to herself. The idea of the Capital burning to the ground, oddly appealing.
Lapis turns, sliding her heels across the broken floor, nails poking up like gophers in the springtime. The soles of her feet, dancing this way and that as she takes in the small shop. She'd practically grown up confined in these walls and the idea of one day leaving them and starting her own life is scarier than she would like.
She loves her parents, but she can't just leave them. Without her, they'd completely crumble and fall to the deep depths of alcoholism and drug abuse. More than they already had.
"I can't let that happen." Lapis nods to herself, as she dramatically pulls back the curtains- of which are used to cover the shimmering, glass window. "Nope."
Anna Yannicelli
District 7 Female
Age 18
3 weeks before the reaping
Anna knows that everyone is a victim, at least to some brave and daring extent. Anyone and everyone, in their own entirety. Humans were simply created to become prey. They are weak and feeble, just a bunch of organs fronting the idea of near-death, very much avid prey for her. For, Anna is a huntress, and a huntress doesn't show mercy.
Hunting is what she is living for, chasing prey gives her such a feeling of power. Which is why she chases the young lumberjack through the thicket, her heartbeat steady as the sun above the treetops. She's done this many many times before, hunting is an extension of who she is- there's no denying such a simple fact.
The man's screams rip through her body. He shouts for anyone that could assist, yet, Anna will herself not give herself to be rattled by them. Her mind still and calm as she flies through the forest.
It's not often she gets the likelihood of a kill, but when she does- it excites her. Animals are predictable, trackable, killable, but humans? Humans are smart. They can cover their tracks, twist their paths. They make much better targets than the typical animals she executes normally.
However, this man is terrified and to Anna's dismay, does little of the liking. He runs sloppily through the evergreens, footsteps pounding with unease.
She knows he's had a very big head start, but she couldn't care less- she's quickly gaining ground on him. His auburn hair, similar to Anna's, shines under the sun in a glint of helplessness. His dark eyes glance back, only to be met with a face of all the rumors floating around District Seven.
The foretells of a huntress, hunting unsuspecting lumberjacks and kidnapping little girls. Stories of her. She can tell, many have learned to avoid her part of the woods but few stupid souls bear the truth, try to laugh in her face. But she dares to prove them wrong, no one tries to outsmart the girl of the woods.
For, she lost her feeling of remorse a long time ago. Most of her emotions died alongside her mother when she was younger. Left in the blink of an eye but she could care less. Years of solitude have since shredded all sense of humanity.
The man is only a few years older than her, quite young and strong but she's faster- and she's smarter. Anna knows these woods like the back of her hand, she could walk then with her eyes closed.
She quickly catches up to him, only a few strides behind the boy. A devilish smile tracing her features, tracing her eyes in a feeble adjustment to the woods as she springs onto the boy's back. He screams, falling back as if she'd struck him with her own hand.
Anna does not flinch, pinning the boy with her knees as she pulls out her sharp, twisted dagger. She twirls the small blade between the soft tips of her forefinger and thumb. The knife's lustrous sheen collects fragments of uncharted light stands under the steady grip of a young hunter. She can't help but admire the forged lines deep in the beautiful blade. The damascus steel layered, creating a stunning sea of rays drifting along the surface of the cold dark grey metal.
The young man struggles under her knees, fingers clawing into the soft earth, trying to escape her clutches. She lets out a light sigh, loosening her grip on his back. He scrambles to get away, but she doesn't let him- instead she turns him over.
His features look strangely clean for a lumberjack of the inner District. The man's lips part in a terrified circle, chocolate eyes pleading with Anna herself. Pleading to spare him, begging for just this once.
Anna can see the hurt and pain radiating from his iris but she doesn't let it hold her back as she drives her dagger into his left bicep. Blood spatters her face like paint as he screams at the top of his lungs. He hits her leg with his fist, trying to get away but she has too much of a grip on his torso.
She lets out a dangerous laugh, bringing her knife- still lodged in his arm, up to his shoulder. She can feel the muscles as she slides through them, opening up his arm. Blood explodes from the veins in his forearms as he shouts into the crisp air.
Anna basks in his pain, letting his screams seep into her skin- satisfying her bloodlust as she continues slicing. She drives her knife around his collar bone, swirling like a spider web. Smirking to herself, she grabs ahold of the man's face with her right hand.
She draws her knife from his collar, to his temple, lightly putting pressure on the blade. It pierces his skin, so she drags it down, slicing apart his cheek as his screams of agony slow to a standstill. His body is still warm so Anna guesses he's unconscious.
She keeps pulling the knife across his features, meeting her other cut across his collar. In a T formation, she keeps going, gritting her teeth as she feels the body beneath her turn cold.
To anyone else, the sight of someone's insides being cut across and ripped open, would be terrifying and disgusting but yet, it thrills Anna. Gives her the essence of life-
Suddenly, she hears a call from someone in the distance, a shout that instructs her train of thoughts. It's probably just someone coming to help the man who lays cold beneath her grip but humans are fun to play with. She jerks to her feet, sensing the person's movement from very far away.
"Two kills in one day? How lucky." Anna whispers to herself, her voice raspy and hoarse, due to the fact she hardly ever speaks herself. There's never been a need, not when she lives alone in the middle of the woods.
The huntress tucks her knife back into her belt, laughing slightly to herself as she takes off in the direction of the shout.
A/N: Annnd we're back on track with another update! Staboom! Sleepy Marie here to say- once agin, that she is sorry this too soooo long. Next time, I'm not going to procrastinate, I swear.
Anyway, I really have nothing else to say betides now that we've meet a good chunk of tributes, favs? Least favs? Who do you think will make it the farthest? And yeah, that's all I got. As always- have a good day/night/afternoon.
Bye for now peeps,
Marie