District One

The Morning Of

Zeal Arcas (18)

you have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve
and i have always buried them deep beneath the ground
dig them up, let's finish what we started
dig them up, so nothing's left undone

flaws — bastille

Zeal had always been a curious boy. He spent most of his childhood trotting up and down District One with his brother Fervour, exploring areas that usually escaped his comfortable, upper-middle class lifestyle — not that District One had strictly 'poor' neighborhoods like the ones in the more peripheral Districts, but Zeal still marveled at the way some people seemed to live in a much less ostentatious way than his family did. He had always thrived for simplicity, for a life of quiet and meaningful reflection, detached from his parents' hedonistic lifestyle and the way even little Fervour seemed to prefer expensive toys to the simple ones that Zeal would always ask for.

At age eighteen, Zeal still felt disconnected from nearly everyone around him. He knew that he was a privileged young man and that most people would kill — quite literally — to be in his position; he was, after all, an exceptionally handsome boy, all tall and lean and blond with bright green eyes, who also happened to come from a very privileged family that had always supported him. He joined the Academy when he was thirteen out of sheer support for his brother Fervour, who had always dreamt of becoming a Career once he turned eighteen; Zeal had turned out to be an exceptional warrior where his little brother was only a fairly mediocre one, but the boy had been happy to cheer his big brother on when he was selected by his mentor to volunteer for the 90th Hunger Games. It had all been set in stone way before the Reaping Day, as it was customary in District One — the Academy Council would study their prospective candidates closely for a month or two, and a handful of them would later on undergo exhausting but often stimulating examinations that would determine who was to become that year's volunteer. Zeal had never really understood why nearly everyone around him was so obsessed with the Hunger Games — he gathered that a life of fortune and luxury in exchange for killing a teenager or two wasn't too bad a deal, but the way some of his classmates wept in agony when they weren't elected as volunteers, knowing that they were eighteen and they had just blown their last chance at participating in the Hunger Games, still astonished him even after years of training.

He always woke up early on Reaping Days — not because he felt particularly interested in the ceremony, but because he always felt as though he needed some alone time before being thrown into the societal humdrum that was to go down to the Central Square for the Reaping. It was a festive day for most people in District One, with parents buying cotton candy for their children and groups of young teenagers hanging out together and wearing their fanciest clothes, taking pictures wherever they went. The possibility of being reaped didn't even bother them, because they knew that there would always be an older, more trained Career to volunteer for them even if their name was selected by their Capitol escort — most kids didn't even go onstage at all, and the Peacekeepers consented to their brattish ways simply because they happened to know that their parents were amongst the most influential people in Panem. Zeal had never really gotten along with most of his peers because of that, and one of the things that intrigued him the most about the Hunger Games was to finally get to see what other kids his age may be like — he wondered if he would ever get along with a boy from Ten, or if he would have anything in common with a girl from Six. He knew that he wouldn't interact with them much, because he would join the Career pack as soon as they all got to the Capitol, but his curious nature made him wonder if he might find a kindred spirit among the poorer kids, since he had never been able to find one among his District One peers.

"I can't believe you're up already, Zee."

Zeal flashed a smile towards his brother as he held his coffee mug in his hands. Fervour was nothing like him — where Zeal was rational, pragmatic, and terribly logical, Fervour followed his instincts wherever he went and tended to be a lot more passionate about everything. Zeal had never felt attracted to a girl — or a boy, for that matter — whereas Fervour had already had several girlfriends over the course of the years; where Zeal was pure quietness, Fervour was a hurricane of emotion and loud comments and charismatic smiles. Their differences didn't make him love his little brother any less, though — if anything, he admired the way they completed each other's personality and, quite simply, the way his brother understood every single one of his choices in spite of their differences.

"I'm a morning person, you know," Zeal countered finally. "I needed to let it all sink in before mum wakes up and goes all berserk over my suit and how I should gel my hair because I look a lot better that way."

"I really can't believe you're going through with this." Fervour shook his head quietly, before dipping a biscuit in the bowl of milk that Zeal had left there for him when he came downstairs. "I mean, I always knew you were good, but I never thought you'd actually — well, volunteer and everything. I thought this wasn't for you."

Zeal offered his brother a vague shrug before taking a sip from his coffee. "Well, yeah, I don't know. I guess I just want to understand why everyone's so obsessed with the Games and everything. You know I've never been that into them, but being there might... I don't know, change my mind about it?"

"That's definitely a weird flex, but okay," chuckled Fervour, shaking his head lightly. "But I'll be here to support you anyway. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do." And, for the first time in what was going to be an excruciatingly long day, Zeal did a small smile before ruffling his younger brother's hair. "I'll try my best just to make you guys proud, kiddo."

"You'd better," Fervour countered. "Dad might get real mad if you don't!"

The two of them chuckled together, knowing perfectly well that all that their father wanted was for Zeal to come home alive and well. Their parents had encouraged them to join the Academy like most of the children in their District did after finishing their primary education, but they had never pressured them about actually volunteering for the Games — their mother thought that they had to be genuinely sure before taking such an important decision, and their father had always told the two of them that he would support them no matter what. Zeal knew that he was lucky in that sense — some parents were obsessed with sending their kids off to the Games to establish themselves as one of the major families of the District, knowing that a Victor child would ensure them a life of prosperity, luxury, and endless holidays at the Capitol. But Zeal's parents had never been demanding in that sense, and the boy had always felt thankful for that.

"I can't believe you're gonna be on TV all the time starting today," Fervour muttered, a delighted smile on his face. "Do you think they'll want to interview me after you leave?"

"Hm, yeah, I suppose they will," Zeal shrugged. "I mean, they usually interview the tribute's closest family and friends, and I don't have that many friends, so."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Fervour said, an understanding hand on his brother's shoulder. "We can't all be as popular and as well-liked as I am."

Zeal let out a hearty laugh and punched his brother on the shoulder. "Asshole."

"I'm still your favourite person, though," Fervour countered, a mischievous smile on his face.

"That is very true, Fer."

The two of them ate the rest of their breakfast in a peaceful, understanding silence, with Fervour humming occasionally to a song that he had heard on the radio the previous day and Zeal quietly tagging along by tapping his feet to the beat.

"Zee?" Fervour asked finally, his tone much softer than usual.

"Hm?"

"You're gonna come back, aren't you?"

Zeal looked back at his brother and pursed his lips quietly. He wanted to come back, of course, because he had never even considered the possibility of dying at age eighteen and he was fairly sure that he had what it took to win the Hunger Games. But he also happened to know that being completely certain about it was foolish and even a little dangerous, so he shrugged his shoulders before downing his coffee.

"I'll try my best, Fer. I promise."

"Good." Fervour nodded quietly, and then offered his older brother a faint smile before leaving the table. "Because your homecoming party will be a total shitshow if you don't."

Zeal almost smiled, knowing that his brother would become his fiercest supporting starting that day.

Cassiopia Aindris (16)

tell me again about how it hurts
being awfully loud for an introvert

monster — dodie

"Is your hair done?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Did you put on the makeup I bought for you?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Does the dress fit properly?"

"Yes, Mother, for God's sake."

Cassiopia blew the thin strands of baby hair that curled around her forehead in a rather useless attempt at trying to keep them off her face, then stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing the crimson dress that her mother had been going on about ever since she told her parents that she wanted to volunteer that year — she was only sixteen, and some older, more athletic girl was supposed to volunteer instead of her, but Cassiopia had it all figured out — hell, she would beat her to a pulp before walking onstage if she had to. The 90th Hunger Games were hers for the winning, and she wanted to prove her otherwise distant parents that she was worthy of their love and understanding; she wanted them to see that, in spite of being their eldest and their only daughter, she was stronger and braver than any of her three younger brothers. It wasn't like she hated them, though — Altan was fourteen and a walking stereotype, with his body already quite toned and ready to volunteer in a couple of years; Angus, who had only just turned twelve, was a lot more like Cassiopia and she tended to shower him with gifts and affection, even if the boy tended to ignore her more than anything else; Arraus, at age ten, already showed exceptional leadership skills and was liked and encouraged by everyone, while Cassiopia's natural peppiness was generally frowned upon. She didn't want to act all butthurt around her siblings — they were only children, after all — but she often felt a pang of jealousy whenever her mother complimented Altan's progress at the Academy or her father acknowledged Arraus's natural social skills with the tiniest of smiles.

"You're doing this," she told her reflection once she had perfected her eyeliner and toned her red lipstick down. "You're doing this and you're so totally gonna win — you were born for this, even if Mother and Father refuse to acknowledge your talent."

"You talking to yourself in there again, Cass?" Altan's voice came from outside, followed by a snicker. "You weirdo."

Cass frowned, but decided to ignore her brother's derisive ways. He generally ignored her as often as he could, but Cassiopia knew that he was the one feeling jealous that day, simply because he wasn't the centre of attention for once.

She did a pleased smile as she tousled her hair, which had been tied into a neat bun by their maid earlier that morning, and then replied in a chirpy tone, "Don't worry, Al! I'm almost done."

Her entire family stared at her as soon as she came out of the bathroom. Her three brothers were wearing similar suits — Altan's was a dark purple, Agnus's shone in a bright, sapphire blue, and Arraus's had been fashioned in a creamy mustard tone that matched his dark blond hair perfectly — and her parents were wearing their best outfits too; as prior Victors, it was their duty to go onstage and support the current escorts during the Reaping, particularly if something went wrong during the volunteering process. Her parents had already told her that they would be happy to intercede in her favour — which thrilled Cassiopia to no end, because it was the first time they genuinely offered to do something for her. They had largely ignored her for most of her childhood, particularly after her brothers were born, and she had always craved their attention and support more than anything else in the world. That was precisely what had driven her to volunteer that year — she wanted to make her parents feel proud, and she wanted them to realize that their daughter was just as valid as their three sons. Cassiopia wanted to prove her worth to her family more than anything else in the world, and she would die trying if she absolutely had to.

"You look good," Arraus said finally, offering her the feeblest of smiles. Her brothers weren't exactly warm around each other, but little Arraus was perhaps the one who was closest to acting even remotely brotherly towards her every now and then.

"Yeah," Angus agreed quietly, shrugging his shoulders. Altas just snorted and glanced down at his hi-tech watch, probably reading a message that one of his numerous friends had just sent him.

But it was her father's tiny smile that thrilled Cassiopia the most. "Good luck, kid."

"Thank you, Father," she nodded solemnly — then immediately pressed an affectionate kiss to her father's cheek, knowing full well that her family weren't the touchy type but that they would let her do whatever she wished that day. Her father just coughed and did an awkward smile, but didn't reprimand her like he normally would; that, to her, was more than enough.

"So, uh, we'd better get going, shouldn't we?" Altas muttered finally. "I need to find a good spot so that the journalists can come up to me when you volunteer."

"Yes, baby," his mother replied brightly, pressing a kiss to Altas's head. Cassiopia wrinkled her nose discreetly, because her mother never kissed her in spite of being the most physically affective out of the four Aindris children, but she quietly nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, let's go," she said, smoothing the hems of her dress quietly.

"Keep your head up, Cassiopia," her mother instantly reprimanded her; there was, however, a bright smile on her face. Her mother would simply do that most of the time — call her names, throw spiteful reproaches at her, all with a polished smile on her face. She had spent an entire life practicing, after all — having won the Hunger Games at age seventeen, the woman had spent her entire adult life attending Capitol banquets, hosting soirées for her elegant friends, and generally letting other people know how perfect her life was in spite of the scar that the Hunger Games had undeniable left inside of her. Not that Cassiopia knew about said scar yet, anyway — she would only understand the way her parents might have felt after the Hunger Games many days later, while screaming for water and food and mercy under the pouring rain of an Arena.

"Yes, Mother," Cassiopia replied, smiling at her nevertheless. Her mother's harsh tone was not going to ruin the day for her — she knew that her parents would feel immensely proud of her as soon as she walked onstage, and that even her siblings might acknowledge her newfound popularity with sincere smiles before she left for the Capitol. It was all a matter of time, she told herself; she would make them proud and, eventually, she would be deemed worthy of their love and appreciation once she came back from the Hunger Games.

"Well, off we go," her father said, ushering the boys outside; the three of them just groaned and fiddled with their ties as they left the house. The man looked back at Cassiopia and raised a finger at her before adding, "Do not let us down, kid. Understood?"

Cassiopia nodded curtly, knowing that her father liked it when she acted as desensitised from everything as he did.

"I will not let you down, Father," she echoed, a firm expression on her face.

"Good," her father muttered. He then looked away from his eldest daughter and simply left the room, leaving Cassiopia and her mother all by themselves.

"Let's go, then," her mother said, her tone not necessarily unkind for once. "We'd better get there early if we want to find you a good spot."

"Yes, Mother," Cassiopia replied obediently, quietly clutching her mother's old sash inside her pocket. She had taken it from her parents' bedroom earlier that day, because she wanted to take it as her token — not that her mother would ever know of it until it was too late, of course.

Her mother offered her something that vaguely looked like a smile, then left the room in search of her husband and sons.

Cassiopia, as always, followed suit.

So! That's the first chapter right there. I honestly didn't expect it to end up being this long, but both tributes somehow inspired me to write a long ass chapter instead of the somewhat short introduction that I had initially expected it to be :') anyway! Hope you all enjoyed it. I thought I'd do this little cute thing where I'd assign each character the lyrics to a song that suits them and their personality; I tend to channel the way I feel about the characters I write through songs and/or moodboards and I thought I'd share that bit with you lot because why not.

Coming up next: District Two Reapings! Stay tuned for more, woohoo.