Fyvie Maebre- 18
District 1F
The Morning of the Reapings
A melancholy tune filled the room as I let the bow glide over the strings of my violin. My music often reflects my emotions; whether happy, sad, angry or pensive. Today however, my music spoke of wistful longing and loss. I had been chosen as the District One female tribute, and as the unspoken rules suggested, it was either volunteer or become shunned by the rest of the district. That would mean no more concerts for music-obsessed Capitolite visitors or District One elitists.
It wasn't that I lacked confidence in myself. My mother had enrolled me in one of the most prestigious academies in the district from the ripe age of eight. There was a reason that I had been chosen as a volunteer. My sadness came from the realization that if- for some dreadfully unfortunate reason- I didn't return from the arena, my ten years of honing my skills and establishing myself as a prominent violinist would be for naught. If there was one thing I loved as much as my violin it would be my mother. She had far surpassed the definition of a loving parent, supporting me in all my musical ventures.
I'm not quite sure why she enrolled me in the academy. I believe it had something to do with my father, who left us when I was just a baby. For what I've heard he had been obsessed with the games, training fifteen hours a day with few liberties. However, all the effort he put in was tossed to the wind when a stronger, more charming boy earned the role of the volunteer that year.
I don't know much about him other than that my mother met my father during their final year of training. After the 26th Games came and went, my father did his best to cope with the loss of his dream, but it took a toll on his relationship with my mother. He left after my birth, with his only desire that I be enrolled in training, so that I could fulfill his dream. His dream. What about my dream?
I checked the clock, which revealed that I had less than fifteen minutes until the reapings would begin and my fate would be sealed. Sighing, I set down the violin, walking to the small mirror positioned beside my bed. I had already changed into my reaping outfit; a flowing gown adorned with stars and planets from another galaxy. I ran a comb through my hair, eventually retiring to the living room where my mother was waiting.
She smiles when I enter, flashing her brilliantly white teeth. "You look beautiful," my mother tells me as she kisses my cheek. "Thank you," I gush, sadness momentarily fading from my eyes. I wish so badly that I could express to her how I really feel; who I really am. But, I think better of it. We walk to the reaping together, her arm around my shoulders. As we walk, we pass excited children, eagerly awaiting the reaping of this year's volunteers. I group of children giggle and point as I walk by, whispering- no doubt- about the person who has filled the highly coveted position of female volunteer.
When I reach the registration station, I part with my mother after waving in her direction. The peacekeeper pricks my finger and motions me forward towards the eighteen year old section. A few girls shoot me odd glances, looking at my dress with disdain. I shrug them off. I'm generally too immersed in my music to care what they think.
Now I wait, tuning out the yearly reading of the treaty of treason and the usual spiel that goes with it. As the district escort, Flavia Valencia takes the stage my fists tighten in anticipation. Here it is, the moment that they've all been waiting for. As Flavia reaches a glove hand into the bowl I begin to devise a plan. I don't need to volunteer. I don't care if the district hates me, all I need is my mother and my beloved violin. But the second the escort utters the name of the chosen tribute my brief moment of bliss is dashed, along with my entire future:
"Fyvie Maebre, please make your way to the stage."
A tear trickles down my face.
Rex Burgs- 18
District 1M
The Morning of the Reapings
I burst through the front doors of the training academy, a sweaty mass of confidence. As I make my way down the stairs I practically flatten a young trainee, who darts away with fear in his eyes. As he should, I smirk to myself.
As a 240 pound, living boulder it isn't uncommon for my presence to warrant such a response from even the strongest of academy members. That, and the fact that I make it my mission to terrorize anyone who crosses my path. Ever since they had the gall to tease me before my massive growth spurt, I've made sure that no one would ever pick on me again.
As I exit the academy gates, my equally intimidating girlfriend, Brenda grabs onto my bicep giggling. "Aw look at the little jerks run," she chuckles watching as any stragglers disappear at the sight of me. I laugh along with her, pulling her in for a kiss.
If there is one person who I truly respect, it would be Brenda. She saw potential in me, even when the academy trainers turned me away. She and I shared a common feeling of hatred for the academy, both of us having been rejected initially. Even after she had developed into a gorgeous, strong woman she still lost the spot of volunteer to Jewel Lustere. I grin evilly remembering her death during the bloodbath, at the hands of one of Brenda's dear friends.
But Brenda saw potential in me. She took a broken, bullied boy and made him into a tribute; a victor. Of course I would never express these vulnerable thoughts out loud, but if it weren't for her I wouldn't be standing here today as the male volunteer for District One.
Even after the fateful accident involving the hospitalization of three other tributes during last year's volunteer selection, she continued to love me with an ever-blazing passion. Even after everyone hated me, blamed me for cheating and for shedding poor light on the district, she still cared.
Taking her hand in mine we dash over to my house which is situated minutes away from the academy. She waits outside as I quickly change into a bedazzled muscle shirt and beige slacks. I apply some gel to my black mohawk, blue eyes flashing as I spare a brief glance at the mirror.
Brenda whistles as I reemerge from the house and as I go to force her into a gentle headlock, she steps out of the way with impressive reflexiveness. "You should know not to take on your trainer," she quips playfully. "Oh you're on!" We chase each other down the streets until we reach the registration station, where we part ways. "You've got this Rexy," she whispers into my ear before disappearing into the viewing gallery.
I grin as my finger is pricked. I stroll towards the eighteen year old section, oozing with confidence. The eighteen year olds give me a wide berth, glaring daggers as I position myself near the front of the section. They're just jealous of you Rex.
I tap my foot impatiently as the mayor reads off the treaty of treason in a voice that suggests he respects its message, unlike other districts. I stretch as Flavia taps on the mic, eager to see who the female volunteer will be this year. District One tributes aren't made aware of their district partner until the reaping has commenced. "Fyvie Maebre, please make your way to the stage." The girl who walks onto the stage looks like she's trying to conceal tears, to some success.
I wait for someone to volunteer but no one does. HER!? This must be a joke. Sure, she's good at combat, but other than that did she really have what it takes. No matter, I'll kill her in the end anyway.
The boy's name is barely called before I strut up to the stage before shouting "I volunteer," into the mic. Everyone booes when I take the stage, but I don't hear them. I focus my sights on Brenda in the gallery, cheering me on. All I think about in the moment is her, and how my victory spoils will help us live lavishly together.
Flavia grabs the mic back with a shocked look on her face. "Well now young man, what's your name?" I grin from ear to ear as I tower above the crowd.
"Rex. My name is Rex Burgs, and I will be the victor of the 69th Hunger Games."
A/N
Well here is the first round of tributes, as promised! I do hope you enjoy these two tributes, and I hope that I did them justice in the eyes of their submitters. What do you think about these tributes? Who is more likely to win? A huge thank you to Gomex for Fyvie, and to wiifan2002 for Rex.
Here are their phyical descriptions:
Fyvie: Fyvie is a young woman with medium braided brown hair that she keeps tied up. Fyvie eyes are uniquely grayish, and change to hazel or brown in the sunlight. She has a more petite body size with small muscles. She has light skin that almost seems to be pale most of the time. Fyvie's fashion style is on the artsy side. She likes to wear theme matching clothings most of the time. Most of the time she loves to wear galaxy themed, oceanic themed, and yellow themed outfits. She has a nose piercing from when she was younger but she hardly ever wears her nose rings. She loves to change her hair style everyday it seems like either the color, braid type, or the style of it.
Faceclaim: Thomasin McKenzie
Rex: Black Hair in a Mohawk, Light Skin, Blue Eyes, Height is 6'6, and his weight is 240 pounds