A/N: Here it is, the Reaping Recap. For the first time post the end of Oceanside, we get to see Miss Victor of Oceanside, Serephina Manchas! I hope you enjoy her personality; she's still the girl she was in that arena 12 years ago, just older and colder and less emotional and...merciful? I don't know how to explain how she's changed, just read it and you will see xD Have fun reading our favorite Career gal! :D
P.S. For Reaping Reactions, I did not look at the forms. A lot of Reaping Reactions on the forms I felt were unrealistic for that character (lots of "Calmly walked onto the stage"'s), so I'm fitting the reactions to the characters as I've portrayed them. :)
I won't let her in
That would be callous and crass
A chip on my chin
You didn't want me back
Stark in the dirt
Can you tell that she's hurt?
So sharp and alert
She's such a clean breathe
Starting to emerge
I'm a ghost that I was
A sister of her
And I'm all the same creed
I'll never give in
How could I apprise you with all that she's sinned
She feels like hell and I know 'cause I've been
Serephina Manchas, 30
Resident of District 2
Victor of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games and Headmistress of the Grand Academy of District Two
The blazing sun, the beast of July, simmers overhead, baking the icy mountain caps of Two's mountains and nearly melting them, eliminating the cold winds and bitter snow that pervades the District in the soullessness of winter here. The stifling heat isn't unbearable, and everyone looks comfortable, chatting animatedly and laughing, laid back and relaxed. I even see two girls in the twelve year old pen playing paddy cake like they don't have a care in the entire world. Thanks to the Academy and our well trained volunteers, these children can play and giggle and smile, while in almost every other District in Panem the children are rigid, crying, filled with fright, mumbling things like It won't be me, it will never be me. Here kids can take as much tesserae as they need without consequences, while in the other Districts each tesserae taken is like stabbing yourself. I look at the peace I have helped found with violence, and proverbs spring into my head, but I quiet them as Cretta Lexanbridge and Mayor Braithwaite take the stage side by side.
I sit in a row of five chairs on the left hand side of the stage. I'm right in the middle. To my right are my elders, Clay Ross, my Mentor, and Brick Talladega, the legendary murdering machine. To my left are my underlings; Scylas Ondino, the strongest one of us here yet one of the most reserved as of late, and Lucia Theonis, fresh out of the arena, wide eyed and a bit nervous sitting next to four other legends. She's a legend now; every Victor in Two becomes a legend. She just hasn't realized yet how much her people adore her, how thankful they are for her sacrifice, for all of our sacrifices.
Mayor Braithwaite keeps it short and simple as always. He quickly states the bravery of our District and our volunteers, and how being loyal and hard working has paid off, making our District the richest in Panem and the favored lap dog of the Capitol. They do like our tributes, after all.
Mayor Braithwaite leaves the microphone, and Cretta takes the stage all by herself. She's a tough woman, unlike the ditzes that rule most of the other District stages. She's moderate in Capitol terms, wearing golden and forest green eye shadow and golden eyeliner and lipstick, her hair dyed forest green. She wears a dress with rich fabrics made of silver and gold, and in her dark green hair is a wreath of laurels. It's the same outfit she wears every year.
"Before we get started, let's commemorate the courageous Victors of Two! Clay Ross! Brick Talladega! Serephina Manchas! Syclas Ondino! Lucia Theonis!" Everyone in the square claps raucously, yelling their adoration and stamping their feet on the ground as is Two custom. We all stand and wave grandly at the crowd, grinning widely and genuinely. Even shy Lucia's smile is large and true, and she's still smiling when we sit down and Cretta flicks on the video. Everyone in the square watches it intently, obediently, honorably, politely, because that is the way of our people. We have nothing to fear in this square; watching the video without boredom or worry shows our true colors. The other Districts watch the video with discontent and worry, but we are different.
Once the video concludes, Cretta strides over to the female bowl. "First, our lovely ladies!" She dips her hand in the bowl and whisks a slip off of the top of the pile in the glass sphere. She reads the name allowed after opening the folded card. "Plautia Culoi!"
A promising Academy student, age fourteen, marches onto the stage, head held high, her smile blinding. I make a mental note to give her extra prestige points for her poise, grace, honor, and tranquility. Plautia stands ramrod straight beside Cretta as she shouts "Do we have any volunteers?"
"I volunteer!" a girl shouts from the eighteen year old section, and my smile widens as one of my prized students, Ardin Varnell, strides calmly onto the stage. This girl is a good bid for Victory, on par with Lucia in terms of skill, and she also has the tactical advantage on her side. I can easily see our row of chairs having a sixth member next year, but there has never been repeat District Victories. Of course, District Two would be the only District to safely make that happen, I am sure. I watch her stand proudly beside Cretta as Plautia returns to her pen, and I'm brought back to a time before the Academy, a time before my husband Roman and my four young children, Garry, Clarissa, Kate, and Gaius. I'm brought back to a time when an idealistic girl with too long blonde hair and a gracious stance and a wide, eager smile strode onto that stage to avenge her brother. I see the old me, and see many of the same things in the current me. I used to be so much more emotional, I used to be so much more young, so much more energetic. Now I am colder, but also older, more mature. I know the world now; I have a firm footing here. Honor is still at the top of my list, like it is in the minds of all of my Academy's cadets. I am the same girl who took the stage twelve years ago, yet I am so different as well.
Cretta traipses over to the male bowl. "And now for our gentlemen." This time, theatrically, Cretta mocks the other escorts dramatic rustles through the heaps of names, giving a pained expression to the crowd. They chuckle, and she reads the name of the chosen slip. "Kaedon Jute!"
A well dressed, handsome rich boy walks onto the stage from the seventeen year old pen. He's dashing and decently fit but I've never seen him at the Academy before. Most youth in Two are like him, rich and healthy but not cadets at the Academy. Most people think all we do in Two is train. This Kaedon probably trains at the Peacekeeper Institute of Two, which is less rigorous, and you are enrolled until age twenty five, and then you are spread throughout Panem to become Peacekeepers and spread and enforce the will and ideals of the Capitol in the Districts.
"Any volunteers for Kaedon here?" Cretta inquires lightly.
"I volunteer!" The rough around the edges male volunteer, Tyberios Palatium, crashes onto the stage. He was a debatable pick; none of the boys in this upcoming class were cream of the crop prospects like Ardin and her competitor for the slot, Venia. Despite his inexplicable chronic migraines, he was the toughest, most motivated, and most adept with heavy weapons in his class. While he isn't a master with tactics, light weight and distance weapons or speed and stealth, but we know the Games well enough to know that his brute force will carry him far. Tyberios is solemn and stoic next to slyly grinning Ardin.
"Congratulations, District Two, to your tributes in the Twenty Second Annual Hunger Games, Ardin Varnell and Tyberios Palatium!" Ardin waves graciously and Tyberios nods his head curtly to the cheering crowd after they shake hands. Then Cretta leads them back stage to bid farewell to their families, and the four of us older Victors stand in unison, Lucia standing a moment after, flustered, still grinning.
We march back stage. Clay departs after hugging Lucia and shaking the rest of our hands. He's the only one staying back this year. He'll hold down the home fort, watching over the Academy in my stead while I am gone. Scylas is our official Mentor, but I'm his unofficial co-Mentor. One, Four, Seven, and Eight also send an extra unofficial Mentor; it just works better to have only one tribute to watch over and nurture. Scylas is taking Tyberios, and I'm taking Ardin. Usually the better tribute goes with the official Mentor, but since Ardin is one of my proteges Scylas is letting me have her. He does favor Tyberios anyway and thinks he has what it takes to be Victor. Lucia and Brick are tagging along, too; the newest Victor is always present for interviews and the like in the Capitol for the first Games after their Victory, and Brick is just so damn patriotic that he likes to hang out around the Capitol and admire the cityscape, and maybe sometimes catch some quick drinks or walk into one of the more...private clubs and taverns, the ones nestled snugly in the back alleys of the glittering Capitol.
Since Two literally curls halfway around the Capitol, and we're so close to them, we have an hour after goodbyes where we wait in the Justice Building until we board the train so we don't get there way earlier than the other Districts' trains. I wait for some time, and then I hear the cursory knock on the door. Scylas nudges it open, and gestures for me to follow him out into the hallway.
"The recaps are airing; we have about a half hour until the train gets here, Headmistress. Let's go check over the others, shall we?"
I chuckle to myself; Scylas still thinks he needs to call me Headmistress. Same with Lucia. They're hilarious specimens of loyalty and patriotism. I follow Scylas out into the hallway, and we enter a different room that has a huge television hanging on the wall. Scylas already has pens and notebooks out on the two rigid plastic chairs sitting in front of the television. We sit down, and I flip open the notebook. It's one I've used for several years, and I mull over my past inscriptions about past tributes, some of whom became Victors, as Scylas flicks on the television. I flip to a new page and scratch down ONE at the top of the page.
The screen flares to life, and a golden seal of District One shimmers on the screen before showing an ornate mahogany stage and a speaking podium encrusted with small glittering jewels. Very One like. One of two female Mayors in the Districts, Mayor Milam, walks out, Escort Iono Sorrus, dressed in a flaring sun like outfit, his hair orange and fiery red, behind her. Esquiria, Kenyan, and Soren sit on the stage smiling slightly out at the crowd, all dressed to the nines. A quick snippet of the Mayor's speech, as well as the intro to the Dark Days video, plays on the screen before Iono selects the female tribute, his booming voice filling the square.
"Glint Macabre!" A lithe, cunning girl from the sixteen year old section, an obvious cadet or whatever they call Academy students in One, struts out of her pen and stands confidently next to Iono. "Do we have any volunteers for dazzling Ms. Macabre here?"
"I volunteer!" I watch as Ardin and Tyberios' first ally separates herself from the crowd of giggling blonde girls in the eighteen year old pen. While she looks like the lot of them, her back is straighter, her eyes clearer, her smile more vicious than most. She and Glint look like mirror images as they pass each other, Glint going back to her pen, the volunteer heading up to the stage, and I swear they must be siblings. But I know they aren't when the girl says that her name is Trinity Vegas.
Trinity stands proudly, garnering the admiration of her fellow One denizens gleefully, her chest swelling with emotion. Her killer smile, killer in more ways than one, remains constant, never wavering, as Iono plucks a male slip from the very top of the bowl with no pomp and circumstance.
"Michelangelo Mydea!" A plump boy stumbles out of the seventeen year old section, his big, fat rosy cheeks turning even redder and hotter as he hauls himself onto the stage, abashed looking, his jolly big stomach wobbling in the confines of his fine silken dress shirt. Iono gives Michelangelo a disgusted cursory look before calling out the call for volunteers; "Anyone volunteering for Michelangelo today?"
The boy hesitates for a moment, making Michelangelo blush redder in worry and start hyperventilating. Several people chuckle as the boy, with a swagger about him, a definite smile on his face, shouts "I volunteer!" Michelangelo moves faster than he probably ever has, quickly leaping down from the stage, his whole body jiggling obscenely. The boy swipes his hair out of his eyes and grins devilishly once he reaches the stage after exiting the seventeen year old pen. I detect something hollow about his smile, something off, something not excited, as he shouts with glee, "My name is Zircon O'Dile, watch out world!" It's not that he doesn't want to be in the Games; his glee is too genuine to be false and manufactured no matter his acting talent. No, something else is off. Maybe something that will distract him in the arena.
"One, give a big hand for Trinity Vegas and Zircon O'Dile!" Everyone in One applauds politely, a few daring souls whooping as the One seal in all of its golden glory fills the screen once again before fading. The scene changes, and I ignore the reaping of Plautia and Kaedon and the volunteering of Ardin and Tyberios as I scribble down plenty of notes about Trinity and Zircon. One's always our biggest challenger. Scylas tells me they look strong, powerful, just as we've trained them day and night to be. The Academy isn't just fighting. It's manners and strategy and composure and acting. The best Careers are jacks of all trades.
As the names of Ardin and Tyberios ring through Two's raucous square, the scene suddenly changes, the yells of joy cut off. A technology centered mustard yellow seal flashes over a dreary city. We're met by the somber, smoggy scene of Three. The streets are polluted, the air thick and gray, the buildings boring and uniform, the people rail thin and filthy, their heads drooping. The younger ones and some of the older ones cry and pout, but most are deathly silent, staring blankly ahead as Mayor Chipin and their flamboyant (to say the least) Escort, Luizy Cathede, waltz out onto the stage. The cameras show lone Takami sitting contemplatively at the back of the stage, his eyes closed in thought. A piece of Mayor Chipin's speech, and a flash of the video, and then Luizy stands before the boy's bowl. She always does things sideways; it's just her and her family's way. I inspect her odd garb; the teal turban, the flowy teal and lime green robes that would look Grecian if they weren't so outrageously colored. Tattoos of angels and hearts and other curious things cover her arms, hands, and face, and her makeup accentuates the strange markings. She giggles, tossing her curly hair, dyed lime green this year, over her shoulder before digging halfway into the bowl with her python-skin covered nails and selecting the slip of the male tribute. "Millard Vaith!" she screeches.
Millard stands stock still, and it takes a bit of coaxing from the Peacekeepers to get him moving. Once he's moving he does so willingly, moving out of the eighteen year old pen, his breathing quick and ragged, his cheeks flushed, his eyes darting around. I hear a strangled male cry from the background and the camera quickly zooms in on two stock still parents, definitely rich and powerful. A tear trickles down the wife's left cheek but other than that they are purely stoic, showing no emotion as their son stands next to Luizy. She asks for volunteers; no one does so although there is another strangled male cry, and the camera finds a boy in the shadows near the back of the square, older than Reaping age, much different looking from Millard, groaning in protest to the Reaping. Peacekeepers escort him away from the square as Luizy prances over to the female bowl and whisks a slip off the top.
"Fuj...Fujitsa LaMac!" Fujitsa strides out of the seventeen year old girl pen, trying to keep a level head. A girl in the same pen screams and holds onto Fujitsa's hand, trying to keep her in the pen. Peacekeepers break them apart, but not before the girl can kiss Fujitsa right on the lips. This starts an uproar, but a gunshot into the air by a Peacekeeper quiets everything down. Fujitsa's lip trembles as she mounts the stage, and her hands shake, but she manages to keep the tears in.
"District Three, here you have it, your two tributes for the Twenty Second Annual Hunger Games, Millard Vaith and Fujitsa LaMac!"
The smog and angst of Three disappear, replaced by the sunny, laid back coastlines of Four, the gray-blue seal stretching across the warm sands and cobbled paths of the cutesy capital town. A good four hundred kids are congregated in the square, half from the main city, the other half randomly selected through one communal lottery from the tiny fishing villages that line the coasts. The difference is obvious; the city kids are richer and prettier and healthier, and the fishermen kids are rugged and some of them filthy and unkempt, but all of them don't care much. Four usually produces both Careers.
Mayor Egron stumbles onto the stage. He's a man known to be too fond of whiskey, and he likes to drink up before the Reaping. At least he's coherent enough to mumble out a half decent speech as bubbly and excited Tytan Clortis, his hair dyed navy, his clothes all overly nautical, a big iron anchor necklace around his neck, bounces behind him. Mayor Egron steps away from the mic, Tytan presents the video, and then his hand is shooting into the girl's bowl. He snaps open the slip, yelling "Cordelia Nile!"
A girl steps out of the seventeen year old pen, fresh and clean, definitely a city girl. She's leanly muscled and doesn't look too frightened as she walks onto the stage. If I wasn't as perceptive I would have pegged her as a Career not ready to bid to volunteer, but I see her partially slouched stature, her thin, queasy smile. This girl isn't a student of any Academy; even Four doesn't teach them stage-climbing this terribly. She's probably just a fit normal girl. "Any volunteers?" Tytan croaks, drumming his fingers on his thighs. Everyone waits, and Cordelia blanches as the seconds tick by and no one volunteers. Soon she's breathing hard, and she starts to whimper a little bit, but she looks at someone in the crowd and manages to calm down. "No volunteers, I guess!" Tytan mumbles as he strides over to the male's bowl, and many girls whip their heads around to a girl in the eighteen year old pen who seems to be having a panic attack, probably the girl who was supposed to volunteer. The girl passes out, and Peacekeepers remove her and carry her into the Justice Building to be treated. Tytan sighs, shaking his head, before drawing a male slip from the depths of the bowl. He quickly unfolds it.
"Toco Sanchez!" A thin, grimy fisherman boy, his threadbare brown trousers sagging low on his hips, stumbles onto the stage from the thirteen year old pen, nibbling his lip absentmindedly. Before Tytan is even done saying "Any volunteers for Toco here?" two boys are already shouting "I VOLUNTEER!"
It's one of those rare cases where the Academies leave the two top prospects to battle it out to see who can make it to the stage first. Both males stand at the front of the eighteen year old section, and they jump over the rope corralling them in, and push off of each other as they make a mad dash towards the stage. They're both strong, eager, tall, malicious; Four will produce a good male volunteer to make up for their failure in the female department. The two boys start squabbling at the base of the stage, and the taller one lands a good punch on the other boy's nose. He stumbles backwards, his nose bleeding superfluously, and the other boy hauls himself onto the stage before the nose bleeder can react, shouting "Gotcha, Almieda!" before strutting like a true Career over to the microphone. He snatches it out of a startled Tytan's hands, and shouts, "Welcome one, welcome all. You're witnessing the rise of this year's Victor, Chavez Belasco, to the limelight." Every city kid except Cordelia and a few more reserved kids whoop and clap, while most of the fishermen kids remain silent and neutral.
"Four, congratulate your tributes for this Twenty Second Games, Cordelia Nile and Chavez Belasco!" The crowd produces adequate noise as the tropical retreats of Four fade to black. The reddish brownish seal of Five, the color similar to the deep rust color of Two's seal, and the camera swoops over the majestic red rock landscape of Five before zooming in on the square, were a couple thousand kids of Five have congregated, most of the kids in the District. Several dozen more trickle into their pens hurriedly as Mayor Rhianna Tenthal and Escort Ambrosia Heavenfall walk out side by side. Rhianna is dressed modestly in a tan pantsuit, but Ambrosia is decked out in a fluffy white number that floats ethereally around her like a herd of clouds moseying on around her. She wears a rainbow crown, and her voice is high pitched as she commemorates Five's only Victor, Anneliese, who waves quickly from her seat, dressed in a nice orange dress.
"Ladies first!" Ambrosia trills before dipping her hand gracefully into the female's bowl. Everyone holds their breath as Ambrosia slowly opens the slip. She pauses for agonizing suspense, and then shrieks "Bernadette Areli!"
In the twelve year old section, whispering, gasping girls step away from a diminutive girl wearing clothes coated with some type of animal hair. She's shocked into silence and immobility, but when the Peacekeepers prod her to get her moving she starts to cry quietly, and louder and louder as she approaches the stage. She's full out sobbing standing next to Ambrosia, who looks a little peeved by Bernadette as she picks the boy tribute. "Jayce Newman!"
A boy walks calmly out of the seventeen year old section, a smile slowly forming on his face. He's beaming once he reaches the stage, and he shakes whimpering and sobbing Bernadette's hand jovially once he reaches the stage. He seems a little uneasy, but he's smiling...glad? This boy confuses me; surely not even a trained Outlier would want to be Reaped if they weren't volunteering. He's thin although his clothes are nice, and dark circles are under his eyes. I cannot yet decode what is off about him, but just like with the One boy, there is something he is hiding.
"Congrats to Bernadette Areli and Jayce Newman, the tributes of District Five in these Twenty Second Hunger Games!"
Onto Six, just as downtrodden as Three, just as gray and polluted, the children just as thin and grimy. Several too many kids in their pens look high as the reddish seal of District Six melts away and the square materializes on the screen. A ruddy faced Mayor Ygritte shuffles out next to Escort Medusa Soldes. While Mayor Ygritte wrings his hands in worry throughout his quick speech, Medusa Soldes lavishes her time on screen, wishing well to Six's sole Victor, Calla Espenson, and congratulating the public on the lowered crime rates, lowered by twelve percent from the previous year. Several people in the crowd chuckle, and it's some of the only genuine laughter anyone in Six has ever shown at a Reaping. Medusa is dressed after her mythological namesake, her outfit a slim cocktail dress made out of snakeskin, and giant pumps made out of snakeskin, and rings and necklaces and bracelets made of snakeskin, and her best feature, the huge headdress she wears that has three dozen snake heads spurting from it. She evens wears contacts that make her eyes yellow and make her pupils thin to look like snake eyes. After the Dark Days video, Medusa is at the girl's bowl, swirling the mound of papers in the sphere pensively before hooking her hand around while deep in the pile. She pulls out the chosen paper, and reads "Liberty Miles!"
The girl stumbles out of the sixteen year old pen, hyperventilating, her entire body quivering in fear. She doesn't cry but she whimpers and drums her fingers on her thigh nervously, squinting her eyes closed and talking to herself in a quiet, firm voice. Medusa looks at her, quirking a painted green eyebrow before striding over to the male bowl. Her hands digs around for a while before she yells out "Fender Hopkins!"
The big, well muscled boy that emerges from the seventeen year old pen is wearing a Pride Of Six hoodie and jeans, and this is the first Outlier that's really got me on hold. He looks strong, and confident; the only sign of worry he shows his a rattling exhale once he reaches the stage. But his walk is purposeful, confident, his posture impeccable. He looks well mannered and relatable, the boy-next-door type of tribute that every Career fears; they are the type of Outlier that the Capitol simply cannot get enough of. He quirks a weak smile after shaking still mumbling to herself Liberty, and then the scene moves on to Seven as Medusa shouts "Your tributes, Six, for these Games, Liberty Miles and Fender Hopkins!"
The camera swoops over the forests outside of the capital city of Seven before zooming in on the square, the russet brown seal of the Lumber District filling the screen on top of the forests. In every city in the District a week earlier, a male and female "tribute" were selected to be sent to the main Reaping in the capital of their District. Each town and village sends two representatives, and out of this pool of representatives the final two tributes are chosen. The people all stand, quiet and worried, but cleaner and stronger, in the square. Oakes and Paula wave briefly to their public from the stage. Mayor Balthazar and Escort Razzle Junehop emerge from the Justice Building. Mayor Balthazar gives a normal, well articulated speech before Razzle takes the forefront. Razzle-dazzle in her way, and she's dressed in an ostentatious red gown covered with flashing lights that are shaped like leaves. She twirls for the crowd and gives them all a headache. After the video, Razzle waltzes breezily over to the girl's bowl, whisking a slip off of the top of the pile. In an airy voice she calls, "Ivy Cross!"
The girl steps out of the sixteen year old pen, shocked at first. Her nails fly to her mouth and she begins to gnaw as she walks onstage. However, she gains her composure, and a small smile starts to spread across her face, a determined, cunning, sly smile. She would be another Outlier to watch out for, this Ivy Cross. A boy just past Reaping age bellows in distress, calling, "Ivy, my dear!" She just gives him the bird, and sends many into laughing fits. Scylas chuckles heartily, and I can't help but crack a thin lipped smile. Razzle ignores Ivy's bold move, instead selecting the male slip carefully from the right hand side of the bowl, midway deep. She unfolds the slip quickly, and bellows, "Malachi Gunderson!"
A boy like an ox starts to move out of the eighteen year old pen, but a boy yells "I volunteer!" from the sixteen year old section. Malachi looks taken aback, staring at whom must be a stranger to him. The boy stumbles onto the stage, and several growl in recognition. The Peacekeepers all look unsettled, but the boy takes the microphone from Razzle's hands and declares, "Baron Arbor. I'll be the curse of these Games." He howls in laughter, and everyone looks uneasy in Seven as the image of its picturesque square and woods fade, being replaced by the industrial bowels of Eight's capital, Gwinnett. That pair from Seven will surely be formidable. If they work together with other strong tributes, they could overthrow the Careers on their path to Victory if they're sly enough. Razzle's parting words ring in my head; "Congrats to Ivy Cross and Baron Arbor, Seven's tributes in the Twenty Second Annual Hunger Games!"
The goldenrod yellow seal of Eight flashes across the screen before the camera zooms in on the square. Eight's the last District beside Twelve that does not use the Preliminary Reaping method. The square is bursting with over six thousand kids, all quiet and nervous and fumbling with their hands and breathing heavy, unsure what to do with themselves, unsure how to tamp out the nerves. Mayor Tweed and Escort Alexandrius Hamis strut onto the stage. A snippet of Tweed's average speech, a snippet of Alexandrius' average introduction prior to the video, and a quick shot of Uriah and Woof, and then Alexandrius is walking over to the girl's bowl. He's dressed like an old-timey monarch, in a red velvet cape that dwarfs his lithe frame. He also wears a big, chunky golden crown, and his face is dusted in golden makeup. He rights his shiny crown before pulling the girls slip and reading aloud, "Gaia Imani!"
A girl whimpers as she stumbles out of the fifteen year old pen. She shivers, hugging herself, as the tears start to roll down her cheeks. She's sobbing quietly once she gets to the stage, and the whole square is dead quiet. There is another woman sobbing, the girl's mother. She holds a young child in her arms, and a little boy of no older than seven or eight clutches his mother's hand. "Gaia?!" he screeches. "GAIA?!" His mother quiets him as he begins to cry.
Alexandrius ignores the little boy's outburst, slipping over to the male bowl. He selects a slip after a careful inspection of all of the slips inside the glittering glass bowl. He snaps open the slip, and announces, "Calico D'Amboise!"
"NO!" a boy from the fourteen year old section barks loudly. He fights the Peacekeepers as they walk towards him to force him towards the stage. It isn't a long, drawn out, sobbing no. It's an affirmative no, saying this is not allowed to happen. "NO!" the boy screeches again as the Peacekeepers nab him. "I AM CALICO D'AMBOISE! I AM MAYOR TAMMI D'AMBOISE OF BUTTON'S GRANDSON! UNHAND ME!" The Peacekeepers lift him together, and he kicks and screams and cries as he is hauled onto the stage. He starts sobbing, and while Gaia's tears stop by the time she's shaking hands with Calico, Calico's tears come full force, and he can barely shake Gaia's hand, he's shaking so much. The two younger tributes troop off stage after Alexandrius booms, "Eight, your tributes, Gaia Imani and Calico D'Amboise!" A shot of the golden grain of Outer Nine swoops across the screen, the bottle green insignia of District Nine overlaid on the rolling grain fields. Then a different scene is presented, one of thousands of gaunt Nine children, half from the port cities, half from the tiny villages that are sprinkled throughout the back country of Nine, where the real farms are. Everyone looks quiet, defeated, dreary, somber, already dead, as Mayor Listange and Escort Patrisa Ngostic tromp onto the stage. Mayor Listange gives a quick speech, his ugly putrid green suit hurting my eyes. The color must be in in the Capitol; the Listange's have a large presence in the Capitol. A quick shot of Unity waving bravely to the crowd is shown. The brave woman; she's lost every single tribute Nine has ever had since her Games, the very first. Then it's Patrisa on her own. She's a jiggly, larger woman who wears a big fluffy gown of a lilac color that looks like it is made of living lilacs; it probably is, knowing Patrisa and her obsession with flowers and the avant garde. She struts confidently in her lilac pumps, throwing her light green hair over her back, and brushing her fingers across her light green tinted skin and lilac makeup before she hobbles over to the girl's bowl. She plucks a slip from the bottom and says the female tribute's name. "Saffronelle Alumius!"
"Sage!" a girl shrieks as Saffronelle, or Sage, as others seem to call her, stumbles out into the aisle out of the fifteen year old pen. One of her friends begins to sob hard, and Sage lets a few tears slip down her cheeks. She tries to look brave and does admirably as she hoists herself onto the stage without help. She sucks in a rattling breath and keeps most of the tears at bay, although a few slip out. Patrisa struts over to the male bowl and digs around for a while before selecting the "perfect" slip in her opinion. She unfolds it and announces, "Luke Saturn!"
A cold, imposing boy walks calmly out of the seventeen year old section, his eyes narrowed, his lithe body well built. He snarls once he's on the stage, and I peg him as a threat. Any boy like that is a threat; it's not a question. He's not acting tough like Sage. He is tough. Luke shakes Sage's hand too roughly, and then they separate as they are lead back stage after Patrisa declares, "District Nine's representatives for the Twenty Second Hunger Games, Sage Alumius and Luke Saturn!" Nine fades, being replaced by the ranches of ten, the fole grass gray emblem of Ten shining brilliantly.
The ranches are replaced by the rickety square of Ten, filled with only around a thousand kids this time; they're very selective in Ten and sometimes pool together a dozen tiny villages for one Preliminary Reaping. The kids here are minimally richer than in most of the other Lower Districts, but many of them still are too skinny and dirtier than they should be. Mayor Laneso and the Escort, Fixtata Discos, walk out together, grinning at the crowds. Mayor Laneso gives a jovial, pump-you-up speech, trying to ease the nerves of the kids in the crowd. Oxen waves curtly at the crowd, and then Fixtata plays the video before twirling over to the girls bowl. She loves her last name, and as always is dressed like a giant disco ball, her hair, makeup, and heels all silvery. She prances around the stage giggling on her way to the girls bowl, and one she gets there she digs around for too long before dramatically taking forever to read the girl's name. "Miriam Park!"
A thin girl walks out of the thirteen year old pen, her eyes narrowed. She doesn't cry, although her hands shake and little bit and she begins to sweat. She keeps herself calm, cool, collected, and steels herself, clenching her jaw as she takes the stage. I'm impressed. Fixtata traipses over to the male's bowl, and selects the male representative for District Ten. "Rufus Braunvieh!"
A boy emerges from the seventeen year old section, one or two tears trickling down his cheeks. He wipes them away and tries to steady his breathing once he pauses next to Fixtata and Miriam. Miriam and Rufus shake hands as Fixtata shouts, "Ten, your tributes this year, Miriam Park and Rufus Braunvieh!"
Onto Eleven, rolling over orchards and farms and dirt roads full of wagons and trucks transporting fruits. The chocolate brown seal of Eleven shimmers over these scenes before fading, and then the square of Lima, the capital city, is zoomed in on. Nearly ten thousand kids from all around Eleven have collected in this massive square of District Eleven, and many are antsy and nervous as Mayor Wendell and Escort Phemia Empire amble out onto the stage. Mayor Wendell gives an impassioned speech that means nothing, and Pumpkin waves pleasantly to the crowds. Phemia speeds through the video, and then bounces over to the girl's bowl. She's dressed in an outfit that looks like marble, and she looks like a sculpture come to life, a new look from her this year. She digs around in the bowl for a couple of moments before pulling out a slip. "Soya Chaffer!"
A girl starts sobbing as she walks out of the seventeen year old pen, and mumbles audibly, "Bad things already happened to me, bad things already happened to me!" She starts hyperventilating, and she tries and fails at calming herself. She's shaking and she cries a little bit, but then she suddenly brightens upon realizing something. She grabs the microphone out of Phemia's hands. "Something bad already happened to me; that means I am going to be Victor!" Phemia claps wildly and the crowd looks at her like she's loony. Phemia then twirls over to the boys bowl and picks a slip. "Omri Plower!"
The boy looks stunned as he stumbles out of the eighteen year old pen, like he never thought this was going to happen to him. He collects himself once he's to the stage, and he looks confident and cunning once he's put together. He's broad shouldered and dangerous looking; another definite threat, I am sure. Then Eleven is disappearing as Phemia announces, "Eleven, your tributes, Soya Chaffer and Omri Plower!"
The grimy, polluted streets of tiny Twelve appear on screen, the coal black seal of the District nearly blending in with the dark, dreary background of the desolation of Twelve. There's not much to show besides starving children and hollow coal miners, so they zoom in on the square extra early. Only filled with just below a thousand kids, Twelve looks so small compared to the other Districts. Mayor Akite and wizened Escort Edna Trinket take the stage. Mayor Akite, new to the position after the previous Mayor died of a stroke, gives a purely shitty speech. He stumbles away, and Edna motions to Twelve's Capitol Mentor, the strangely plain Eris Glasshine. Edna herself is rather normal for an escort; dressed in a normal-ish light green and pastel yellow dress, her makeup the same color. She shows the video like a classic Escort; she's been an Escort since the Games began, after all. She then selects the female tribute, not screwing around, picking her slip quickly. "Carmen Ionique-Astron!" she announces clearly, her voice booming through the square.
"NO!" a male shouts from the eighteen year old section. "Not my...not my wife!" he sobs. A girl shuffles out of the seventeen year old section, sobbing but trying to smile. Everyone gasps involuntarily, and so do I. She's very pregnant, probably eight or nine months so. She awkwardly waddles onto the stage, and she tries to stop crying for someone, not just her husband. The camera finds who she is looking at; a woman around Carmen's age, and three younger children. They must be her other children, that is the only explanation. The oldest is crying while the other two don't understand that their mother and sibling have been sentenced to death. In most other Districts someone would save Carmen and her child, but this is Twelve. No one volunteers for the poor girl. Edna sighs audibly, looking sadly, truly sadly, at Carmen before selecting the male tribute. "Gaylord Parthenia!"
Several girls in their pens clap and hoot as a boy emerges from the sixteen year old section, sticking his tongue out at them. "WHORE!" one of the girls shouts, and a Peacekeeper quiets her. Gaylord rolls his eyes as he mounts the stage, concealing his shock and instead flashing a flirty, endearing smile and flexing his well built arms. Well, well built for Twelve at least. He waves to the crowd after shaking sobbing Carmen's hand. Edna yells, "Your tributes, Twelve, Carmen Ionique-Astron and Gaylord Parthenia!" They stumble off stage, and the recap is done.
"That was...interesting. Not a super normal year at all," Scylas comments. "Now let's get going, we can compare notes later. The train's here by now."
We leave the room, and I feel the weight of the notebook in my hands. This notebook helped save Scylas and Lucia. Hopefully it can save either Tyberios or Ardin as well.
A/N: So there you have it, the Reaping Recap! A lot longer than I thought it would be xD
One thing: I ned all alliances by the first day of training. I'm going to do training chapters by alliance and then one chapter for training from loners POV's. So yeah, if you want an alliance get it together ASAP.
edit: Tracee being stupid again. To set up an alliance you must PM the others authors/submitters and then tell me the agreed alliance. Here are the alliances in existence: (alliance names not permanent if you guys think of something better PM me it)
Careers: Zirc, Trinity, Tyberios, Ardin, Chavez, Cordelia? No outliers I am keeping this relatively canon Career pack
Girls Meet World: Bernie, Libby, Gaia, Sage, Carmen
Optimism Meets Pessimism: Soya, Lord
Showstoppers: Ivy and Omri
Moments: Jayce and Miriam
Also, an alliance is not essential. Most tributes would not be in an alliance right from the get go in a normal Games. I'm going to be doing alliances realistically this time and this means that they all won't last forever unlike most of the alliances in Oceanside. Feel free to do alliances all I am saying is that they are not that important and I like writing solo tributes just as much if not more than alliances. And everyone's going to be on their own anyway at some point :)
A lot of you have been commenting on how some tributes are cliched, and I agree, but I accepted some of them because I have never written characters like them before and the reason I am doing this is to grow as a writer, not to make the most unique story. Not attacking anyone or anything just making a simple statement this has just been bouncing around my head as of late xD
Already almost to 250 reviews. Whew. Thanks so much everyone!
So far Ardin is topping the poll with 9 votes (We all love our Two girls, don't we? xD), and Fender and Ivy are just behind her with 8. To see the other results go on my profile, and vote if you have not :D
Edit: Both Ivy and Ardin have 9 votes now and Fender is still at 8, no other moves into the top 3 highest vote getters
So, what did you think of the Reapings? The reactions? Did I do your tribute(s) well? Thoughts on the writing?
Until Next Time,
Tracee