Hello, the games have officially begun! District One's reapings have been split into two, because it is particularly long, Luster is my character and I had a particular direction that I want to take with him and since I am in his mind... it ended up being nearly 2000 words. So enjoy this, and the other half will be up within the next couple of days! There are still 9 spaces left for tributes, so feel free to submit!

District One Male

Luster Ardor

Luster's first day of retirement was hardly what he expected it to be. The man had worked for over 55 years, and on his first day free, he was heading to a reaping, something he thought he had finished with many years prior.

He could barely remember what it was like, Luster had never attended any reapings as a viewer, he couldn't understand why crowds of people formed to witness children being ripped from their parents, sent off into the unknown. And, he didn't technically have children of his own, there was no reason for him to go flocking along with the rest of the population. Hell, Luster didn't even watch the games most years, there was no entertainment to be had in watching the future of the districts be mowed down, controlled by a bunch of rich politicians, sitting in their luxury homes. Sadistic bastards, he thought to himself, finally throwing his legs over the side of the bed, gasping as his feet made contact with the cold, harsh floorboards.

No matter how much money Luster earned, and it was but no means a bad salary, he never installed a heating. He knew he was one of the luckiest members of the district, and of Panem as a whole, but for some reason, he would never use his wealth to benefit himself. Luster was not a philanthropist in any sense of the word, rather, he just felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, that he had money and others simply didn't. He knew it wasn't exactly his fault, he had gotten lucky with his employment, and worked his ass off to get to the top, but still felt a nagging responsibility for those he had left behind in the process.

There was no time to focus on that now, however, Luster had more pressing issues at hand, namely the impending cloud of doom hovering over his head called the reaping. Last weeks news still hadn't suck in, this Quarter Quell was worse than anyone could ever have imagined. Not only did Luster have the fear of being reaped, but the worry of the other tributes, he could end up having to kill a five year old.

Luster's only saving grace in the whole situation, was his lack of family. He didn't exactly have ones he loved anymore. His wife had left in shortly after the birth of their son, taking the small boy away, and Luster hadn't heard from them since, for over 35 years. At least he wouldn't have to worry about anyone he cared for being reaped, or worse, being reaped alongside him.

The man closed his eyes one final time, vowing to banish his nerves and worries- there would be young children there, many who would probably have no idea what was happening, he had to be strong, if not for himself, then for them. Using all the strength his frail body still had, Luster pushed himself off the edge of the bed, leaning on the wardrobe for support as he pulled on the suit he had laid out the night before. If this was the last outfit he chose, he wanted to make sure he at least looked the part...

Final ready, and almost free from the torment of his mind, Luster pushed open his front door, having to bite back a grimace, once more because of the cold. He turned to the side, and up and down the street, people were doing exactly the same, making eye contact with one another, and offering a sad smile. Luster joined in the charade, knowing it was not helping him or any of his fellow neighbours, but knowing he would feel out of place if he just ignored them.

For once, everyone was in exactly the same boat. In other years, those older and without children would walk through the street relaxed, with an era of confidence, the most brutal of them sniggering as children clung to their parents in fear. But now, everyone had the same sense of dread within them and although Luster had lived through nearly half of the games, he had never experienced anything like this before.

As he exited down the street he fell into step with a mother, holding hands with her child, the young boy staring up at him. Luster felt a pang of pain echo through his body: the child could not be over the age of seven, and his name would still be in the reaping bowl. When he finally managed to look away, Lister felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. How dare the Capitol do this? Not only to him, but to the thousands of children across Panem. The games had been bad enough, but everyone had accepted that it was just part of the way the new world worked, but this was so far beyond that, an unimaginably cruel act that destroyed any sense of comfort or stability that anyone felt.

"Its okay, Mister." The voice jolted Luster out of his thoughts, and he moved his hand to wipe away the tears before anyone else could notice. The young boy reached out his hand, both to Luster and his mother's surprise, to grasp the old man's, rubbing his fingers across Luster's wrinkles. "We can do this, you can stand with me and mummy."

Luster look up and the woman for agreement, receiving a stern yet welcoming nod. Her face softened when she realised his age, and she lent across, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's a cruel cruel world, but he's right, we can get through this." The trio turned the corner, entering the square and Luster almost fainted in shock. It was busier than ever before, which was to be expected, but he couldn't quite get over the range of ages. Of course Luster knew that there would be a range of people, but seeing it in front of him was more traumatising than he could ever have imagined. Peacekeepers had given up trying to organise people into age groups as they usually did, children were crying alongside their parents, a group of elderly people stood huddled together, resigned to the fact that if they were picked, there would be no coming home. Luster supposed that he should probably do the same. He was 72. If they announced his name, this would be the last time he would see his hometown, there was no way that he could win over 23, most likely fit individuals.

No one had time to calm down, or even say goodbyes that could possibly be there last, because almost as soon as the last citizens had taken their place District One's escort arrived on stage. Luster's hand was still firmly gripped in the young boys and there was no way he would ever be able to convey his thanks. Had it not been for the family, standing with him, Luster would have been completely alone, and probably unable to contain his nerves.

"Citizens of District One." A pale white lady entered the stage, covered in gold necklaces, her body so stick thin Luster was convinced she would snap if the wind blew too hard. "I am Trilly Nighdrop, your escort for this games, and welcome to your reapings for the 125th Hunger Games." Trilly clapped her hands, fully expecting the crowd to join in, looking almost hurt when only a small group reacted.

A large cheer came out from the front corner of the pack, and instinctively Luster turned his head to follow the noise. Careers. Of course it was, even though they couldn't volunteer, they were still there in full force, more ready than ever for the games. Trilly stared them down, nodding in there direction, causing even more cheers.

"As you are all aware," Her eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in for the first time the diversity and amount of people present. "This years Quarter Quell means that there will be no age limit on this years tributes." Peacemakers began to wheel out the reaping bowls, full to the brim this year, and people throughout the square let out an audible gasp. "You're male tribute for this year's games is…." Trilly's hand dug around the bowl, knocking out names as she rummaged and Lister could only pray that one of them was his. "Luster Ardor."

He should have known he could never be so lucky.

When Luster didn't move, the child next to him met his gaze once more. "See Mister," he whispered, afraid that Peacekeepers would hear him. "I told you we would be okay."

Luster winced, of course he was happy for the child remaining safe, but there was no way to escape from the terror inside him. He bent down to his level, grasping both the boys hands in his own. "Thank you for your kindness, son, you must take care of your mother." He gave the boy and his mother one last solemn look, before taking a step forward, only to be greeted by peacekeepers. They escorted him up to the podium, and Luster couldn't help but notice the way the remaining audience bowed their heads, refusing to even look at him. His district had already written him off as a failure, and that fact only spurred Luster on. They had no faith in him, and although Luster knew he would never be a victor, he was determined to do better than they could imagine.

"Wait." A gruff voice rang out across the area, frantic and grasping, beggin for someone to listen. Luster, couldn't quite work out where it was coming from. "I volunteer!"

"We're sorry, sir." Trilly's voice was high pitched and everyone could tell she was loving the drama. "The rules we're quite clear, we are accepting no volunteers."

"You fucking sick bastards. You can't do this. I said I volunteer." Without waiting for a reply, the man charged forwards, pushing a Peacekeeper out of the way, making his way to the stage. "That's my father you can't do this." As soon as the man's foot made contact with the stage, a shot exploded, and Luster looked up just in time to see the body of his son fall to the floor.

It took a hard shove to Luster's back to make him realise he had stopped walking, the reality of the situation becoming too much. Not only was he going to die in a few short weeks, but the body of his son, a man he hadn't seen in decades, lay just a few feet from him.

"Mr Ardor, ladies and gentlemen." Trilly's hand made contact with the older man's shoulder, and he could clearly feel that she was shaking. Luster was too shell shock to speak or react, he just stood there, staring at the crimson blood that seeped from the head of his dying child.