Reapings

Isa Torres, Victor of the 11th Hunger Games

Isa sinks down into the couch of the youth center's office. It's already been a long day, even without the stress of having to attend the reaping ceremony. A year ago, Isa was in that crowd that is now gathering in District 1's square. Today she has a bag packed and is waiting to catch the next train to the Capitol along with the newest pair of tributes. It's truly amazing how time flies when the world is breaking down around her.

In a matter of days, Isa's entire outlook on her life changed dramatically. She became a Victor, one of the most coveted people in District 1, and yet has never felt so small in all of her nineteen years. She didn't know that the memories of the other tributes would follow her around like whispering ghosts. She didn't realize that every word would feel like sand in her mouth when she spoke about the arena. Isa thought that she would feel deserving when she won, but instead she feels cheated. The Hunger Games are nothing like the trainers said they would be.

"Isa," Cedric whispers from beside her, giving her a soft nudge. Isa jumps at the movement, wide eyes turning to her fellow Victor. She can taste iron and reaches up to her bitten lip, blood smearing her fingertips. Cedric takes a piece of gauze from his pocket and offers it to Isa, who takes it gratefully. She's still having trouble remembering that she isn't in the arena anymore, even nearly a year later. "You don't have to watch."

"Of course, I do," Isa says, her voice shaking. The truth is, she would like nothing more than to turn off the screen in front of them and return home. She doesn't want this reminder of the games, not when the pain is so fresh. She already can't stand the guilt of two more kids volunteering for the same sick reason that she was roped into last year. She wants to run back to the Victor's Village, into the shiny new home the Capitol built her last year, and hide in her sheets for the rest of the day.

Cedric opens his mouth to say something more, but the screen flickers to life before he gets the chance. As Victors, Isa and Cedric are no longer required to attend the reaping ceremony in person. They are supposed to be at home packing for the journey and preparing to meet their new tributes. Isa can't even remember what she threw into her bag early this morning before they both headed to the youth center. Cedric has become one of the trainers here since it was built, despite being a Victor from pre-academy times. Isa expects that she will be asked to teach here eventually as well, but for now it's still a place she finds a lot of comfort in. Isa spent almost three years at the youth center before she volunteered, and it's more of a home than she's ever had.

They both stare ahead at the screen as the familiar District 1 square comes into frame. Isa recognizes the Escort onstage as the same man from last year, Adonai, with the same slick white hair and regal suit. He grins at the crowd and Isa sinks deeper into the couch, dreading the voices that she knows must be coming. She can't believe than anyone would be so stupid as to volunteer, but Isa also knows that a year ago she did just that.

"The time has come to select the brave young people who will represent District 1 in the 12th Hunger Games. As always, ladies first," Adonai announces. "Ashara Nox!"

Isa stiffens at the name and Cedric instinctively places a hand on her shoulder. She holds her breath as the camera pans around, searching for the girl or any potential volunteers. Finally, an older blonde girl steps into the aisle with a proud smile on her face. Her strides are long and steady, but there is no mistaking the resemblance. She looks just like her brother. Isa can't stop herself from shaking as she prays, for the first time today, that someone will volunteer.

There is no such luck. Ashara reaches the stage and accepts Adonai's hand as it helps her up the steps. She flashes him a quick smile and, loud enough for the escort's microphone to pick up, she speaks. "I suppose this saves me some trouble."

"Oh?" Adonai asks. "Do explain."

"I was hoping to volunteer," Ashara says, her smile faltering for only a short second as she swallows down her nerves. "Like my brother."

"Good fortune indeed!" Adonai laughs, leaving Ashara in the center of the stage to approach the second bowl. "Now for the boys."

He's only just grabbed hold of the paper slip when a voice calls out from the audience. A muscular boy with dark hair and skin steps into the center aisle, his hand held high above his head. His eyes are wide and his chest rises and falls quickly, but there is no mistaking the words that escape his lips. "I volunteer!"

"It seems we have a volunteer," Adonai says, excitedly tossing the slip back into the glass bowl. He skips over to meet the boy, reaching out a manicured hand to help him onto the stage. The tribute's face pales, eyes widening further upon seeing the escort up close. "Tell us your name."

"Romello Dupree," he says, raising his chin as the name leaves his lips. Romello holds his hand behind his back, no doubt to quell the shaking in his fingertips. Isa can remember the feeling of being on that stage as if it were only yesterday. The nerves, fear, and excitement mixing together like the slushy components of a bomb.

Isa cannot concentrate on the volunteer, her eyes are glued solely to Ashara. Cedric notices the tension growing in his friend's shoulders and gives them a rough squeeze. "It's not him."

"It's worse," Isa says. "How can it be her?"

"There were no volunteers, the center knew that," Cedric says carefully, though Isa can see the uncertainty in his voice. It's too much of a coincidence that a Nox was chosen. Isa knows that this can't just be chance, not after Asher. Other dead tributes are long forgotten by the next year but Asher is still mentioned now and again. He and Isa were favourites last year, but that's not the only reason he's remembered. It can't be just chance. She opens her mouth to say so, but Cedric squeezes her shoulder even tighter. "Not here."

Isa nods, shakily returning to the screen as it fades into District 2. She tries to push the thoughts of Ashara and conspiracies away, knowing that there is nothing she can do about any of it. Another escort is on stage, Isa thinks she introduced herself but she can't recall a name, with two glass bowls poised on either side of her. She reaches to turn off the screen, but Cedric's hand stops her.

"They'll probably be working with District 2," Cedric says. "We need to see who they're up against."

"Now we will select a brave young woman," the woman says. "Congratulations-"

The name is lost as the camera pans away from the stage to find a blonde girl walking up the aisle, her shoulders back and her head high. As she reaches the middle of the crowd, she stops and raises one hand towards the stage. "I volunteer as tribute."

"It appears we have a volunteer," the escort says, doing her best to sound surprised. In reality, it's uncommon not to have volunteers in either 1 or 2. The fact that Ashara was reaped and no one volunteered in her place is almost unheard of at this point. Of course, according to Cedric training has been down all year. The escort pulls the volunteer up onto the stage and the girl frowns for a moment as her foot catches on the last step. She quickly regains her confident smile and nods curtly to the escort, removing her hand from their grasp. "What's your name, darling?

"Aristona Villiour," the girl says proudly, taking a slow breath as the escort leaves her at center stage. Isa glances briefly at Cedric, who bites the nail of his thumb nervously. She's not only beautiful but confident. It's going to be difficult for Romello and Ashara to compete for sponsors with someone like her. Never mind if she has half the training District 2's usually have. They're at least as deadly as District 1, and some would say more so. The fact that they usually come from money tends to help them out.

"Wonderful, and joining Miss Villiour will be-" Once again, Isa doesn't concentrate on the name as the camera finds a tall boy with dark features walking up the aisle. His hand is held high like Aristona's, but he does not say a word as he walks quickly to the stage. Isa finds that she is uncomfortable with the silence that settles on the screen.

The escort also doesn't seem to know what to do with him. She holds out the microphone as a hint, but the boy says nothing. Finally, she prods him a bit more obviously. "Do we have another volunteer?"

He nods sharply but leans away from the microphone as it's pressed closer to his lips. To most, he would look simply annoyed by its presence but Isa can see the flash of fear run across his face. Isa would not mistake that expression anywhere. For some reason, he's frightened though she can't tell of what. Isa makes a mental note to discuss this with Cedric later. Any weaknesses that they can find in District 2 will only benefit their own tributes.

"What's your name?" The escort says, her smile becoming more and more forced.

He looks from her to the microphone once more before he takes a slow breath and leans slightly towards it. "Delias Vayne."

Isa can feel the trepidation in his voice. It's deeper even than she expected, and the letters seem to melt together in his throat. He steps away from the escort as soon as the words are out, stepping to stand beside Aristona. She turns and gives him a slight smile as she brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Delias nods quickly and takes the hand that she offers him. She wonders if they know each other, but before she can decide the screen fades to the commercial break.

Claude Patiens, Head Gamemaker

Claude laughs with the other Gamemakers as the images of the District 2 tributes join District 1 on the wall screen. He insists that the team heads join him each year to watch the reaping ceremonies. It is one of the more boring aspects of the Hunger Games if you ask him, but it offers a chance to bond with the others before their serious work begins. They have been preparing for the 12th Hunger Games since the last one ended and Claude is extremely proud of the work they've done thus far. It's taken him a few years to get into the swing of arena control, but he is finally starting to feel secure in his place as Head Gamemaker.

He looks around the room at his newest crop of team heads. It's been difficult to find exactly who he is looking for each year, but he feels like this is the closest he has ever been. The only Gamemaker remaining from his time as an assistant is Yulia, the Head of Muttations, who was spared firing because of the obvious success of her designs. No one else except Claude survived the mass firing that followed the 6th Hunger Games and Claude isn't surprised. Tulio bit off far more than he could chew by trying to manipulate the base climate of the arena. The technology is advancing, and Claude thinks they might be ready to try again in the next few years. This year, however, only fully tested elements will be used in the arena. Claude will not make the same mistakes as his predecessor; he cannot afford to.

In his first meeting with the President, where Claude was offered the position as Head Gamemaker, he had half a mind to ask what had happened to his former boss. At the time, Claude figured that he might have be transferred to somewhere else in Panem and shamed for the mess that he created in the arena. Months into his new job, Claude searched the databases to look for him. It's not that he was sentimental, just curious and a bit apprehensive. He'd received his initial job as assistant so close to the Hunger Games when the old assistant quit without a trace, and now Tulio hadn't contacted him at all. The least Claude expected was a congratulations and when he didn't get it, he became suspicious. It didn't take a lot of searching to find out what happened to Tulio and Donte. It appeared as if someone almost wanted Claude to know.

"It's time again to welcome District 3's newest tributes," the escort says, fluttering her impossibly long eyelashes. "First up is Miss Capri Romano!"

Claude watches impatiently as the camera scans the crowd of young ladies until finally a girl is pushed out of the middle crowd. She has a pronounced frown spread across her lips and her brown hair tied up in a frizzy ponytail. Capri crosses her arms over her chest and tries to fall back into the crowd, but the Peacekeepers reach her before she gets far. They spin her around and point her towards the stage. She pushes away from them and begins walking, but as soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs she bursts into tears.

The escort pulls Capri into her side, but the girl pushes her away just as quickly. The escort wrinkles her nose but recovers in seconds, leaving Capri by herself at center stage as tears continue to fall down her cheeks. To her credit, she tries to cover her face but it does little to hide her fear. Pity as she had been doing so well.

"Now for the boys. Welcome to the stage, Erdan Yates!"

Claude raises an eyebrow as a loud profanity soars through the screen. The word is cut off, but the voice is intriguing. Claude is always interested in the tributes that are willing to fight back even if they make the others' jobs more difficult. It's easier to send muttations or other changes towards them, because in his mind he can convince himself that they almost deserve it. Claude leans forward in his chair as the young man is pulled from the crowd, his face red and eyes wide. He doesn't exactly look like much, an illusion to a feral dog comes to mind, but he's already doing better than his district partner. Panem loves a fighter.

Erdan is prodded towards the stage and turns often to face the Peacekeepers that surround him. The escort extends her hand to help him on stage but he slaps it away, feet pounding up the steps as he bites down hard on his lip. The two tributes refuse to look at each other, Capri with tears still dripping down her chin and Erdan with his face twisted in an effort to stop his own tears from falling. The escort has to grab each of their hands and pull them together in a handshake. Their hands drop limply back to their sides as the scene fades into District 4.

"Interesting boy," Claude muses, leaning back once again into his plush chair.

Annika raises an eyebrow from beside him, eyes flickering to the larger screen as images of the two new tributes join the others. "Interesting pair."

Claude is about to ask what she means but is stopped when the District 4 escort begins their introduction. Lately, there have been more and more volunteers from the coastal district though they have yet to bring home a second Victor. If they continue their trend, Claude wouldn't be surprised to see their tributes rise to the level of 1 and 2 eventually. The Capitol has started to back them more as well, especially the volunteers.

"Now is the time we all look forward to, when we will select the brave tributes that will represent District 4 in the upcoming Hunger Games," the escort says, her nervous smile evident. She looks young, though Claude doesn't know many of the escorts personally. They've become an important part of the prep process, accompanying the Victors to ensure that everything goes smoothly. They're next to useless as actual mentors, but as rule enforcers they work just fine. Victors have been known to be particularly unpredictable. "Let's begin with the young ladies. Noemma Dobra."

Claude holds his breath along with the rest of District 4, waiting to see if there will be another volunteer this year. As the camera pans around, it becomes evident that no one will be taking this girl's place. A pretty girl with plain brown hair walks carefully into the center aisle. Her face is flushed but her expression is neutral, as if she were only walking to school and not to her potential death. Peacekeepers trail behind her but she needs no directions. Noemma takes the escort's hand and steps on stage, a close up revealing a couple of tear lines running down her cheeks.

"How wonderful!" The escort exclaims, patting Noemma's hand before she heads to the opposite end of the stage. Her hands grasp a solitary slip of paper, but only the first syllable of the name is read before a sharp voice calls from the audience.

"I volunteer!"

The camera immediately zooms in on a tall boy with his hand stretched over his head. His face is neutral, determined, and reminds Claude of the boy's district partner though more confident. The tribute lets out a slow breath as he walks to the stage, his eyes staring straight ahead and ignoring the eyes following him. It's almost like he doesn't even realize anyone is watching.

"It appears that we have a volunteer, how exciting!" The escort cheers. She pulls the boy up on stage beside her and shoves the microphone between them. "Tell us your name."

"Jordan Kalisco," he says, staring down at the microphone. He moves to stand beside Noemma, whose expression remains blank but with more even tears slipping down her face. They lock eyes and she extends her hand, tightening her lips into a thin line. Jordan takes her hand and shakes it quickly, giving her a solemn nod. They both look away from one another just as the screen darkens and returns for another commercial break. Claude wishes there weren't so many interruptions, but it does help to keep people on the edge of their seats. The Capitol has grown to love their tributes and it's an exciting day across the nation to meet them for the first time. It makes sense to draw it out as long as possible. There is only so much time left for them.

Eason Bowers, Victor of the 8th Hunger Games

Eason brushes the crumbs off his chest as the commercial break starts again. He would much rather be watching, well, anything else but the Capitol controls his screen just like they do every other part of this house. He thought that when they offered him a house, in its own new part of District 5 no less, that he would finally get to live the way he wanted. Eason has begun to realize that the Capitol never gives things away for free. Not only does he have to get on the train in a couple hours with his tributes, but he can't even watch the shows he likes. Talk about a raw deal.

He tries to sit up straighter on the couch, but all of his limbs feel heavier than they should and they refuse to move more than a couple inches. Eason sighs, allowing himself to sink into the cushions even further. He see the pill container on the coffee table and attempts to reach for it, but once again his hands don't listen. He huffs, wishing that there was someone else here right now to help him but also enjoying the alone time. It's easier to get on without his father constantly hiding his pills or forcing water down his throat. Eason doesn't care that his father doesn't like the habit. Eason doesn't like the empty feeling in his chest when he skips a dose.

It's hard to believe that it's been four years since he left for his Hunger Games. It's even harder to believe all the things that have changed since then. At sixteen, Eason was well on his way to getting an apprenticeship in a plant workshop and eventually moving into a cushy job of materials testing. The Hunger Games weren't even on his radar back then, but even all these years later they're all he can think about. Eason would say that he was a good person back then, but not anymore. He hates the person he's become but there's no other choice but to live with it and numb the senses with whatever prescription his Capitol doctor can prescribe.

"Let's begin with the selection of this year's tributes," Mykel, District 5's escort, says and Eason laughs. They just had to hire the most chipper man in the Capitol to give out a death sentence, didn't they? Eason would love to kink that perfectly straight nose of his with a solid punch to the face. The Capitol would probably forgive him, hell even if they didn't, who cares? "Ladies first. Welcome to the stage, Emilia Rorfile!"

The camera finds the girl as she steps through the crowd, her face blank with mouth hanging slightly open. She hesitates on the last step into the aisle and crouches down, holding her face in her hands for a moment. Peacekeepers descend on the girl, lifting her up by her wrists and pointing her forwards. Emilia nods at the guards and walks stiffly to the stage with only a few prods from behind. When she reaches the escort, Emilia stands beside him with a blank expression.

"What a fucking idiot," Eason murmurs to himself, watching the girl just stand there like she's been struck with a frying pan. He can't believe that he'll have to attempt to help her in the Capitol. He might as well stay home at this point. If only that were an option.

"Now for the boys," Mykel announces gleefully, completely unaware of the shaking girl beside him. Eason's glad that Mykel didn't join him in the Capitol for his games, he was lucky enough to get some rich idiot that blubbered on about how well he could do if he just tried. Turns out the idiot was right even though Eason's not sure he's happy about it. "Doran Ibarro, come join us on stage!"

The camera finds a younger boy as he walks dutifully out into the middle aisle. He looks around as if not believing that it could possibly be his name that was called. It was you, get used to it, Eason smirks. Eason has seen a million tributes like him and none of them won, he can't see this guy being any different. It's easy to see that he's about ready to shit himself even as Doran attempts an unconvincing smile. Eason rolls his eyes as the Peacekeepers bring him to the edge of the stage and Mykel pulls him up beside him.

The two tributes look at each other with sad expressions and Doran attempts another shaky smile as he extends his hand. Emilia stares at it for a moment as if she doesn't understand but then takes it warily. Mykel puts his hands on each of their shoulders and smiles out at the crowd. Asshole. These kids are doomed and everyone knows it, but Mykel's smile feels like it's just rubbing it in.

Eason blinks and District 5 has already faded away. He's all but forgotten the names of the newest tributes, but figures he'll have plenty of time to learn them if he so chooses. Their train doesn't leave for another couple hours at least, so Eason stays put. He tries to reach for his drink but only manages to knock it onto himself. Eason groans and brushes stray juice off his clothes, realizing that he'll have to change.

"It's time again to welcome the two brave tributes who will represent District 6," the escort says grandly. Eason can't help but think he looks almost identical to Mykel, but all Capitolites honestly look the same to him. They're probably wearing different 'fashions' as they call them, but Eason's never cared to notice any of that. "First we have Chiara Truist."

A girl with a thick head of curls pushes through the crowd, biting her bottom lip as she makes her way to the aisle. Her face is flushed red and she pushes away the first Peacekeeper to reach her. They respond by all pulling out their batons and holding them in front of their uniforms. Chiara clenches her fists at her sides but eventually turns and storms to the stage. She keeps her arms tucked into her chest even when the escort offers a hand to help her up the steps. As she stands beside the escort, she dips her chin and a couple of tears drip from the tip of her nose.

"Only idiots cry," Eason mumbles. She'd almost earned his respect for even trying to fight the Peacekeepers, but everyone knows it's stupid to cry at the reaping. It's like cutting yourself out of the running before you even show up to the race. At least his tributes didn't cry.

"Welcome, darling," the escort says, flashing Chiara a grin before she moves to the second bowl. "Next we have Fitzroy Gordon."

It takes a few moments to find the tribute, but luckily he's already standing near the edge of the aisle. Fitzroy steps out and the camera zoom in on him immediately, taking in the hard frown that covers his rather pretty face. He stuff both hands in his pockets, a tactic that tells Eason that the boy's hands are probably shaking like leaves caught in a tornado. He remembers the feeling pretty well, it's the same one he gets every time he enters the training center. That hasn't gone away even four years later.

Fitzroy also climbs the steps without assistance and reluctantly stands beside Chiara. The escort instructs them to shake hands and, while Chiara turns to Fitzroy as she's told, he keeps his hands in his pockets. Finally, the escort pulls his hand out and practically shoves him into Chiara. Fitzroy barely maintains his balance and stiffly shakes her hand as he narrows his eyes at both of them. Chiara returns the expression easily.

"District 6, I present your tributes," the escort announces as both step away from the other. "May the odds be ever in your favour."

Eason sighs as another commercial break comes on. He knows that he should pack for the trip and also probably change but he has no desire to get moving. This happens every year, but the Hunger Games still never fail to bring out the worst in Eason. He doesn't know why he has to go with the tributes. He's already done this shit, won his Hunger Games, killed some kids that probably didn't deserve to die. That should be more than enough to warrant letting him spend the rest of his life on this couch. It all just feels like a punishment for surviving, as if living at this point isn't hell enough.

A/N: Hey all! I'm struggling to meet this 3 day update schedule y'all, but I am really trying my best here to get these chapters out in time. There is a lot of stuff happening right now (I'm literally fine, just busy) so if I am a couple days late don't hate me. This is the first of two reaping chapters and I know that there isn't a lot of interest in these, but I wanted to introduce some more changes before we head into the Capitol. Mentors are a thing now! And escorts joining them as well! Fun stuff, plus some closure about Tulio et al. from FE.

Did any of the tribute reactions surprise you?

Which was your favourite POV?

We're getting there. Soon we will be in the Capitol and we'll get to have all the interaction you crave but for now you'll have to be okay with a little district partner handshake. Stay safe out there and always remember that BLM and ACAB, there hasn't been enough change to stop reminding people of these facts. Thanks for the reviews and I'll see you next time!

~ Olive