0A/N: Finally, District Twelve, the last introductions! :D Platrium finally gets to see their tributes! :D Enjoy, and hopefully this is out on Sunday? xD
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sex, drug abuse, sexual scenes and profanity
(The sexual scenes aren't descriptive at all, or I hope so at least, so don't worry xD)
I'll tell the world, I'll sing a song
It's a better place since you came along
Since you came along
Your touch is sunlight through the trees
Your kisses are the ocean breeze
Everything's alright when you're with me
And ah ah ah ah ah, you're my favorite thing
Ah ah ah ah ah, all the love that you bring
But it feels like I've opened my eyes again
And the colors are golden and bright again
There's a song in my heart, I feel like I belong
It's a better place since you came along
It's a better place since you came along
Carmen Ionique-Astron, 17
Resident of District 12
Stay At Home Mother
"Mommy, I'm hungry!" Cobalt mumbles, rubbing his stomach.
"I'm making breakfast, don't you worry honey," I say with a small smile. I turn back to the rusty black stove, watching as the blue-orange gas flames erupt from the burner, the tips of the tongues of flame curling around the curved black iron sides of the pan. I use a greasy plastic spatula to flip the eggs inside; sunny side up, just like Cobalt likes them best. I let them cook for a moment longer, and then I flip the two fully cooked eggs expertly onto the spatula before depositing them on a chipped white ceramic plate. I walk over to our scarred dining room table, which sits in one corner of our small shack.
Cobalt sits all by himself, the big, puffy green sitting chair dwarfing his small four year old frame. He grins happily when I set down the eggs in front of him, and flips them over, inspecting them curiously, prodding the eggs and shredding them open to see how the yolk spills out. His sister, Aramis, a year younger than him at three, sits in an old oak rocking chair on a pile of pillows in her cute yellow dress. She waits patiently for her eggs, staring at the third of five chairs at the table. One year old Bonnie beats her tiny fists against the plastic tray of the old, faded baby pink high chair. We had to cut off parts of the legs so the high chair didn't stand two feet higher than the table. I quickly grab a small can of peaches out of the pantry, and mash them some before scooping them into a plastic bowl. I look around for the little green spoon we use to feed Bonnie. It has a squishy handle and she only eats with that spoon. I open drawers and look around for it, biting my lip. She's not going to eat, my baby needs to eat. My children all need to grow up nice and strong, and if Bonnie stops eating-
I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, and turn around to see my husband, Aristotle, smiling softly, holding the little green spoon in his other hand. He chuckles and I sigh, pouting, and he just laughs a little bit more before kissing my forehead.
"Go feed little Bonnie. I'll make Aramis her eggs." He kisses me again, and I squeeze his hand as I walk over to the dining room table, spoon in hand. Aris is the love of my life, and I'll never let go of him. It all started in an alley when I was eight years old. I was singing, trying to get enough money to buy myself something to eat so I wouldn't starve to death. He heard my voice, and thought it was pretty, that I was pretty. He started following me around, and orphan himself, and before I knew it we had this little shack, I kissed him, he kissed me, we became one underneath the covers, I gave birth to Cobalt, and I was signing a marriage contract at the Justice Building before toasting a loaf of bread with him in our shack's fireplace, Cobalt, just a babe then, watching with a giggly smile. My smile doesn't fade as I think about Aramis being born, about Bonnie being born, and now our fourth bundle of joy, due any day now. It's been almost nine months since my pregnancy started, after Aris and I had some fun like we do almost every night. I chuckle to myself as I crouch down beside Bonnie's high chair. I dip the spoon into the bowl of mashed up peaches, and spoon the soft, sugary fruit into her mouth. A bit dribbles down her chin, and I use the tablecloth to dab the juice off of her soft, round, rosy baby cheeks. I smile at her, and she smiles at me, wrapping her chubby little fingers around my thumb.
Aris walks over to the table, a plate full of scrambled eggs in his hands. He sets it down in front of Aramis, and she tries to eat on her own. Her fingers fumble around with the fork, and Cobalt helps her eat, trying to tell her how to hold the fork with a mouth full of eggs before he finally swallows them all in a huff and folds her fingers around the fork, showing her how to hold it. I chuckle, and continue to feed Bonnie. Once I'm done, I carry the bowl over to the sink. It's strange not to head out to the well about a half mile away to wash our dishes; until soon after Bonnie was born, we couldn't afford water to come to our house. We got electricity while I was pregnant with Aramis. We used to have to walk a half mile there and back to get water, and we only had a fire for light until Aramis came around. We still don't really have heat or air conditioning, although the fireplace acts as a good heater. As I wash out the dregs of syrupy peach juice from the bowl, Aris spoons scrambled eggs onto two plates, one for each of us. I towel dry the plastic bowl and put it on its shelf before grabbing my plate off of the counter. Aris kisses me again, and we sit down at the table. Bonnie plays with a rattle, consumed in her activity, Aramis fumbles with her fork, trying to eat on her own a sort of succeeding, and Cobalt munches down the last of his breakfast. He then scoots out of his chair, running his hand across the wooden backs of the skeleton-like wood chairs we sit in. Aris ruffles his hair as he opens one of the two doors that lead off of the main living area. One door leads to our bedroom, the other to the kids' bedroom. Cobalt waddles out a moment later with a small book, and he starts trying to read it on his own allowed after he sits back down at the table.
"The...cat...ahty...ayty...ate! The cat...ate...her...fohd...food...happ...happil...happily!"
"Good job, Cobie!" Aris and I say in near unison, and I laugh as he rolls his eyes. I look into those eyes, round brown orbs dappled with specks of gold. They captivate me. They've captivated me ever since I met him in the street as I sang, as he walked. I remember the song I was singing that day, and our hands fit together naturally as I begin to sing the song. My kids fall quiet; they love when I sing.
Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow. Lay down your head, and close your eyes. And when they open, the sun will rise. Here it's safe, and here it's warm. Here the daisies guard you from every harm. Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true. Here is the place where I love you.
The last note fades from the air, and Aris grabs me close, pulling me onto his lap so that my legs straddle his waist. He kisses me, and I can see the lust in his eyes. His lips taste like eggs and coffee, and his hair smells distinctively of Aris.
"It's only morning, Aris, and we have to watch over our children we have now before we can make more!" I giggle as he presses his lips to my neck, his hands gripping my hips tight. He sighs, and kisses my cheek before returning me to my seat.
"Killjoy," he jokes, prodding me. Our children watch with slight smiles. They like when we show affection for each other, and Cobie likes it especially because he's figured out when we're in affectionate moods towards the other spouse, we are usually nicer and more willing to get him what he wants. He stands up, and drops of his book back in the kid bedroom. He returns with another, and Aris and I finish our meals before we take all the plates and cutlery and carry them to the sink. I start washing them as Aris walks into our bedroom and dresses up in his work clothes. He got lucky; he has a job as a clerk at a grocery store in the Seam, and it's a decently paying job, enough for this modest house on the fringe of the Seam. Once he's all dressed up, we share a long, passionate kiss. He also kisses the kids, and then he laces up his boots before walking out the door to head to work. I watch him walk down the dirt road before I turn back inside.
"Bath time!" I bellow, and the kids squeal, hopping to their feet. Bonnie babbles and I grab her, holding her to my chest as I chase slowly after Aramis and Cobie. They giggle and run into their room, collapsing on their cots, burying themselves under the covers. I smile as I sit down on the foot of Aramis' cot. I finally coax them out from under the covers, and I get them to wait in here. I'm going to give Bonnie a bath first.
I pull the big silvery tub out of the pantry, where it lives when it is not in use. It's more of a huge, glorified pail than anything that we wash ourselves in. I fill it up halfway with tepid water from the sink, the warmest it gets out here, before filling it with suds. I grab a soft washcloth and dip it in the water, and start washing Bonnie after I've stripped off her cute little green t-shirt and her little baby leggings, along with her diaper. She squeals and whimpers a little bit, but I'm gentle, careful, making sure that I don't hurt a hair on my little girl's head. When she's done, I dry her off and put on a new diaper and a set of clothes. Each kid only has two pairs of clothes since that's all we can afford. They take a bath every week, and we rotate clothes every week. It's a little uncleanly to most, but our life isn't "traditional" or "right" to most people. I had Cobie when I was thirteen. I lost my virginity when I was a preteen pretty much. The weird thing is that I feel like I'm already an old grandmother. I feel so much older than seventeen. I'm so much more mature than the other seventeen year old girls I see, happy and unburdened by life's worries, just focused on getting a date, maybe feeding their families if they're really poor, but most girls are still shallow, naive. Childbirth and motherhood shreds the haze of naivety, and I was already crystal clear, seeing the real world, when I was eight, singing in the streets, meeting Aris. Life hasn't dealt me a kind hand, but I've turned it around. I have a handsome, faithful husband, three beautiful children, and a fourth on the way, and we're all well fed and healthy and have a humble little home. We're an imperfect family, but we're a family, and that's all I need.
I can't stop drinking about you
I gotta numb the pain
I can't stop drinking about you
Without you I ain't the same
So pour a shot in my glass and I'll forget forever! (Wow oh)
So pour a shot in my glass 'cause it makes everything better! (Wow oh)
Darlin' tell me what more can I do?
Don't you know that I was meant for you?
You say I feel like heaven on earth,
But you'd never know what heaven was if it wasn't for her
Gaylord Parthenia, 16
Resident of District 12
Bartender
"What type of drink would you like there, Miss?" I ask, quirking my brow sexily. The girl is around my age probably, I can't really tell that well in the relative darkness of the bar. The colorful, undulating dance floor lights shed some light over here, but not enough for me to see her that well, but I can tell she must be beautiful. She puts her chin in her hand and scans the light up board of all of our drinks that is on the back wall, just above all the liquor bottles.
"I don't really know what I should have, hon. What will two dollars buy?" she asks, slapping two bills onto the counter.
"Ooh, one dollar bills?" I say softly, teasing her, my eyes flashing up to hers to see how she reacts.
She chuckles. "I'm not a stripper by trade, but I'd be happy to show you some stuff any time you like," she says. It's her turn to quirk her brow sexily. An explosion of rainbow light from the dance floor highlights her, and I see her pretty auburn hair and pasty, freckled skin, rosy cheeks heated up from attraction and probably whatever she drank earlier. Her speech isn't slurred though, so maybe she finds me attractive and this isn't a drunken booty call. Hopefully it's not a joke. I just broke up with Mandy and I just need to get over that bitch. Sure, we were only dating for a little over a week, but she was toying with my heart. She said she loved me on the third day! How is a boy supposed to react to that?! And then she just flat out breaks up with me a week into a relationship because I won't say it back to her! I like moving fast in relationships, but that's just ludicrous. She was also sort of mad about the fact I got drunk, though, too. But what can I say? I work at a bar, and it's a waste to leave the half finished beers and shots to rot on the counter, only to be slurped up by the young little busboys. A boy has gotta feed his hobby. Mandy said I "had a problem with alcohol." She even used the fancy word people always say around me, "alcoholic." They say alcoholic gingerly, disgusted, like it's a bad thing to drown myself in a bottle. Girls break my heart all the time. Maybe if my love life wasn't absolute trash I would stop drinking so much. Than again, I get over girls quick. I'm a resilient fellow. Mandy just broke up with me before my shift started. I just need a couple of drinks and a little more time, and the slate will be wiped clean. I can speed up the process by scoring this pretty little redhead tonight.
"So, what drink you gettin' for me, bud?" the girl asks. I snap out of my reverie and look up to meet her eyes.
"Sorry, babe. Two dollars can buy you a Peony Martini. Give it a go, baby. It's a real knock your socks off drink."
"Yeah it is!" her co pilot says in a nasally voice. "I've been hear before, it's a real one and done, and I know that's what you're looking for tonight Peyton!" My friend and co-worker, Thor, also works behind the bar. He asks the nasally voiced friend if she wants anything, and Nasal Voice breaks away from this pretty redhead in front of me to go order. Peyton rolls her eyes as the girl leaves.
"I'm getting over a break up, and of course Tina has to bring it up, the little bitch. Sorry," she mutters.
"Don't worry about it, I just went through a break up too, it was really tough," I mumble as I pour and mix together the Peony Martini. I love mixing together the alcohols and juices, pouring them and watching them provide a paradise in the middle of a hellish world to my customers. It's satisfying to watch them get drunk and leave behind the world's problems, the problems that pervade into their lives. I pour the brownish liquid of the Peony Martini into a martini glass with ice, and then I hand it to Peyton. It doesn't look very appetizing, but it's a good drink to get you drunk fast.
Peyton hands me the two dollars, and I put them in the register as she downs the whole drink in one gulp. In under a minute, as I'm pouring some vodka for her, she's already really tipsy. I put the vodka down in front of her, and she hands me three more dollars, saying that's all her money. She drinks the vodka quick, too, and then she just sits there, staring at me, her head cocked to the side.
"Damn, I am so drunk already!" she giggles. "You look so hot...what should I call you, baby?"
"Lord," I reply smoothly. "And you're not bad yourself." She giggles drunkenly. We flirt back and forth for a couple of minutes until the look on Peyton's face hardens and I suspect she's somehow already sobering up. She clears her throat and interjects into the silence between us that's just appeared.
"So, look dude. You're smokin' hot but I'm just looking for a one night stand. I just broke up with Tommy and that asshole, we were engaged! And he was fucking my cousin Lily! Damn him! But I just need a quick fuck to take my mind off of him. Up for it, Lord?"
"My shift's over in ten minutes. Wait by the front entrance. I live in the apartment up top with my buddy Thor. His shift's already done, he's probably up there with our co-worker Cressilda, she's an...earner of one dollar bills. They won't mind if I give you a signature rough and tumble time."
"I'll be waiting for you, sweetie," she says, leaning over the counter and kissing me messily, her makeup smearing all over my face. She staggers over to the front entrance and sits down at a table by the door, staring at the flashing lights of the dance floor, mesmerized. I almost feel bad that it was so easy to snag her, but then again she's probably thinking the same thing. At least I didn't have to lie this time to get a hook up.
In ten minute my shift ends, and I grab one of the beers left on the bar, downing it all in one gulp. I throw the can into the trash and then I walk over to where Peyton sits by the front door. I take her hand and lead her to a door in the back corner of the bar, wreathed by shadows. It leads to a dingy stairwell. She can barely walk, and I have to literally carry her in my arms up the stairs. She doesn't complain, just mumbling about Tommy. I'll make her scream Tommy's name tonight, because when I fuck her I bet she's going to pretend it's her boyfriend. That's what girls like Peyton, fresh off a breakup and looking for a hookup, do. I've gone down on enough girls like her to know what to expect. She'll feel guilty when she's done, not even stay the night, and go weeping off to Tommy or whoever's house, weeping about how she wants to be back with him after she did something so naughty. It's just sex. It's human nature. There is a reason why it feels so good. It's because you're supposed to do it. I don't get why people are bothered by sex. It's fun and universal and everyone wants it, and whenever I do it I'm always very careful and safe, making sure nothing bad will happen. What's not to like?
I set her down on my bed once we're in the apartment. Cressilda and Thor are doing shots in the kitchen and will probably get so drunk that they'll do something they'll regret afterwards, knowing them. I once dated Cressilda. One of the few relationships that actually ended okay. Peyton's already undressed by the time I close the door, and I'm stripping down, too. I'm on her then, and the night passes in a lovely blur as she spasms beneath me. When we're done, I kiss her forehead and lay down next to her, sighing happily. She drifts off to sleep, and I contemplate life's mysteries, my mind beautifully numb.
A/N: Today we had Carmen and Gaylord, both courtesy of the ever amazing Platrium! These two were definitely different, and I really did love writing them, they were a total blast to interpret and present Platrium.
The intros are done! YAY! xD They were fun, but lets be honest, we're all ready to move on to the Pre-Games. Next chapter will be a recap of the Reapings, just a Capitol program that shows everyone's reactions and reveals who volunteered and who was Reaped and the like. After that, 12 goodbyes in a chapter. Then 12 trains in a chapter, and we're off into the Capitol, where I'll have a lot more chapters than last time that will be exploring the tributes before and after training, and also looking into our stylists and mentors. So yeah. I have a lot planned for Pre-Games.
Ah, 222 reviews, how awesome you guys are! You're all just the best!
I put up a new poll about your favorite tributes now that the Reapings are done. Go vote for your Top Six favorites!
I'm still figuring out a sponsor system, but I will figure one out, do not worry y'all. It will involve trivia.
Here is the trivia question. This is easy, so it's worth one point.
Who was the Head Gamemaker for the Tenth Annual Hunger Games, Oceanside?
Who did you like better, Carmen or Gaylord? Overall thoughts on this pair? Predicted placements? Thoughts on the writing?
Until Next Time,
Tracee