0.1
prelude
the capitol; one year ago
Thalia thinks she might be in love.
The boy from District Four is like something straight out of a dream. He's graceful and athletic, confident but not overwhelmingly so like the other volunteers can be. He doesn't need to throw himself at the camera, it's drawn naturally to his quiet charm. The girls at school overlooked him after the Reapings, too busy fawning over the boys from One and Two. Thalia was fine with that. It meant she got to keep him to herself, hold him like a secret and watch his interview again and again just to catch his smile at the very end.
His name is Lance. And he's going to win.
It's past her bedtime, but there's no way her parents were going to let her miss the finale. They'd woken her up just in time, sensing that the Games were pushing towards a close. They even got Clio out to watch, though she looks significantly less enthused. While Thalia sits between her parents on the couch, her sister has secluded herself on an armchair towards the back of the room, legs pulled up against her chest while she stares at the broadcast with a grim look on her face. She's been a terrible bore recently, but Thalia isn't going to let it sour the night of Lance's win for her.
"Who else is left?" She whispers to her father.
"I'll give you one guess," he responds, throwing a look over her head towards her mother. Thalia knows what that means: it's the girl from Ten. Her parents have been debating for weeks between her and Lance would win, and she's guessing they upped the stakes of their bet before waking her.
Thalia looks over at her mother too, who smiles but says nothing. She doesn't like chatter during broadcasts. Thalia turns her attention back to the games.
There's a storm shaking the arena, not the first but certainly the most intense. She would expect nothing less for the grand finale. A couple of days ago the wind was just taking branches down and tonight it's uprooting trees; lightning leaves the ground looking scorched where it strikes. There must be something wrong with the rain, because Lance had cried out when he first touched it and even now he's grimacing. He's making slow but steady progress towards the mouth of the Cornucopia, fighting against the wind.
It looks like he might be limping, but Thalia can't tell if it's an injury or the pushback from the wind. "Is he hurt?" She asks.
"One of those mutts caught him," her father says. "See his leg?" He points, and Thalia looks closer as the shot changes to give her a closer look from the side, his left leg is soaked with blood below the knee. "It's a miracle he hasn't bled out yet."
"I love you both dearly," her mother interrupts. "But I am trying to watch."
Thalia looks for a throw pillow to hug against her chest, and feels her father's hand reach up to give her hair a comforting ruffle. Lance makes it just far enough through the mouth of the Cornucopia to be shielded from the rain before collapsing, breathing heavily, his hands and knees pressed against the sleek metal floors.
"Where is she?" Thalia whispers.
"Thalia, hush."
Now, she has full, unshakeable faith in Lance. She knows what he's capable of, she knows that he's going to win. But it's hard not to worry about the girl from Ten. They'd all underestimated her at first, and that's what got most of Lance's group killed. It's what got Ten's own district partner killed.
And now Lance is alone with her, wherever she is.
Having taken a moment to breathe, he starts to push himself back up. The sound of scraping metal echoes from somewhere further inside, startling him. Thalia hugs the pillow tighter, watching his expression shift from confusion to fear as he stares down whatever is in front of him, something she can't see yet. He reaches for the scimitar strapped to his waist but isn't quick enough to draw before he stumbles in his haste to back up, and he might have been able to catch himself if not for his injury - instead, he falls backwards. The camera flips.
And emerging from the darkness further in the Cornucopia is the girl from District Ten, her face briefly illuminated by a lightning strike just outside. Her face is smeared with blood and her eyes are wide and dark as she steps towards him. Thalia can see what the scraping was from now, the shrill sound of the enormous mace she's dragging behind her against the metal floor, leaving a thick trail of blood in its wake.
She's moving very slowly. It gives Lance ample time to scramble backwards in his sitting position, but he makes no attempt to get to his feet. His hand is nowhere near his scimitar anymore. He goes until he slips into the puddle of muck that's formed back outside the mouth of the Cornucopia, a slurry of mud and sand and blood that he was struggling to walk through before, much less stand up from now. And he stops.
"What?" Thalia asks no one in particular, leaning forward in her seat. "Why isn't he getting up? He can still get up! Why isn't he doing anything?"
But Lance simply puts his head back, grimacing as the rain touches his face. The girl from Ten finally reaches him and places a foot on his chest, hair falling to obscure her face as she looks down at him. Lance opens his mouth, but there's a loud crack of thunder as he begins to speak. Thalia can't make out a word.
"Get up!" She whines.
"Sorry, love," her mother says. "I think it might be over for your boy."
Whatever Lance is saying, his opponent has stilled long enough to hear him out. His lips are still moving, but his voice is too quiet even as the thunder subsides - until the tail end of his speech, the very last word:
"-Please."
The girl from Ten takes her time lifting the mace over his head, clearly struggling with the weight of it, and brings it down hard.
Thalia and her father both groan in unison. Her mother cheers. Clio remains silent, staring grimly ahead.
Lance's beautiful face is already mangled when the mace comes away, broken and twisted and bloody, but she brings it down again. And again, and again, and again. Her movements feel frenzied, wild like one of the mutts hidden in the jungle, blood flying in every direction. And only when he's gone from mangled to unrecognizable does she stop, letting the mace fall to the side and collapsing into the muck beside what's left of him.
A cannon fires. Thalia throws herself back, sinking into the sofa and pouting.
"Ladies and gentlemen," comes the announcement, somehow louder than all the thunder and rain. "I present to you the victor of the sixty first annual Hunger Games - from District Ten, Posey Padovana!"
The storm subsides as the anthem begins to play. Thalia's mother rises from her seat laughing, delighted and applauding. "An excellent game! She played very well."
"It's not faaaaair," Thalia whines, sinking lower into the cushions. "I wanted Lance to win!"
"I'm inclined to agree," her father says, rising from his own seat to stretch. "We spent good money sponsoring that young man, and he choked."
"It was a good show," her mother says. "Isn't that what matters? I enjoyed it, I know you enjoyed it too. Thalia?"
Both of them look down at her, still pouting in her seat. They stare at her, then at each other, then at her again. Mother raises an eyebrow, and finally Thalia cracks, allowing herself a smile. "Alright," she relents. "Yeah. It was fun."
"And Clio?" She turns to address her older daughter, but the chair has already been vacated without so much as a goodnight. Thalia watches her parents share a concerned look, but neither comment. "Well, my lovely. You should be off to bed now."
"But-"
"No buts. There's nothing more to see, not until tomorrow. And you do still have school."
Thalia groans dramatically, pushing herself up off the sofa and tossing her pillow aside. She kisses her mother and father goodnight and dashes up the stairs to her room, eager for it to be the next day so that she can discuss the events of the night with her classmates.
And as she settles in bed, she reflects on the Games' conclusion. On the image of Lance's face, a gory, unrecognizable mess. It's such a bummer, really - he was really cute, and she just lost like, three bets. But her mother was right. It was a good show.
Thalia can't wait for next year.
If any of this sounds familiar, you might have read a SYOT I tried writing three or four years ago. I was enthusiastic about it at the time, but I also wasn't thinking very far ahead. Things ended up fizzling out after I was overwhelmed with life, school, and general poor planning. But I've been rereading The Hunger Games, and I never really let go of the basic idea of the story I wanted to try writing, and honestly? I don't have nearly as much going on in my life now as I did the first time I tried something like this. So after taking the time to make some more concrete plans, I'm ready to give it another go!
I'm not entirely sure how the SYOT scene is different now than it was a few years ago when I was poking around, so please bear with me as I work through this, lol. Now, before we get to the fun stuff, some things you should know:
1. This story will not take place in the canonical world of The Hunger Games books and movies. None of the events of them happened, this is pretty much going to be it's own thing as I assume most SYOTs are.
2. You may submit a maximum of two proper tributes, but depending on the number of submissions, I might accept one without the other. If you would prefer that your tributes are accepted as a pair or not at all for whatever reason, make sure you include that!
3. This will very likely be a partial SYOT. I don't anticipate getting 24 characters, and I honestly don't think I'd know what to do with that many if I did. I'm aiming for somewhere between 8-14 main tributes to accept, but that number could go slightly higher depending on interest.
4. It's not first come first served! I'm going to be setting a tentative deadline on my profile, and choose from the characters that have been submitted. If I don't accept yours, don't be discouraged! Just because I didn't feel like they were right for my story doesn't mean that they can't go anywhere, and it's never anything personal against the quality of the characters.
5. Once inside the arena, I'm going to leave a lot of things up to fate - meaning, I have a trusty set of dice left over from D&D, and I will be rolling for certain decisions! I'll override rolls if I think something would suit the narrative better, but there's definitely going to be some things that are a surprise even to me. This is just something I think might be fun.
6. I'm also open to suggestions, especially if you have input on your own character's decisions. So read along! Engage! I'm hoping for a fun collaboration here, let's make an interesting story together!
Which about does it! The form is on my profile now, tributes will be accepted through PM only! I know the form might look long, but don't worry - a lot of sections are optional and just there for fun. I look forward to meeting our tributes!
