Marina Grotto, District 4

As Marina stepped out of her home, she was surprised to see Gem Warden standing alongside Delilah and Tila as they waited to accompany her to the square. "What are you doing here, Warden?" She practically spat, sneering at the other girl. They had been friends, just a few short weeks ago. But that had been before Marina had proven to be better. "The best fit for District Four this year," as the head of the academy had said.

"Oh, I've put that all behind me, Grotto," Gem replied with a smirk, "See, once I realized why they picked you over me, I got over it."

Marina scowled, confused. "What do you mean, why they picked me?"

"Oh, sweetie, don't you know?" Gem's voice took on a sickly sweet tone as she spoke. "No one in this town - no one that matters - really likes you. Your giving those of us who are actually serious about the games a bad look. So you're just going to be cannon fodder."

"Don't listen to her, Marina!" Delilah burst out, hurrying over to Marina's side and hooking her arm through hers. "Gem is just jealous, even though she said she'd be nice. Besides Tila and I matter, and we like you."

"Of course we do!" Tila squealed, standing at Marina's other side. She held out a necklace, strung with blue pearls and long, spiraling shells that ended in wicked points. "We even made you this for your token."

"Ooh," Marina said, eagerly taking the necklace. She clutched it in her hand, quickly realizing how comfortably the shells would fit between her fingers, and how easily the sharp tips might pierce someone's flesh. "It's perfect," She practically purred, not seeming to notice Gem pushing past them to head on to the town square alone.

The three girls turned to starting heading to the square themselves, taking their time. They picked up others as they went along, acquaintances and well-wishers and hangers-on. Half of these people, she knew, wouldn't so much as glanced at her a few weeks ago. At best, a lot of them had known her as the rat-faced girl from the career academy who was usually out half the night partying. The change in their attitude had been swift, but Marina didn't care. She was the female tribute for District Four, and soon to be their victor. Everyone would be acting like this, one she was back home.

The reaping itself was, as always, a bore. Marina didn't know why they kept up with all the pomp and circumstance. Everyone already knew who the tributes would be, after all, and that was all that really mattered in the end, wasn't it? Still, she knew she had to follow the rules, and wait patiently for her time to volunteer.

The girl who was called from the drawing looked underfed and barely old enough to have been in the reaping at all. The faded, patched dress she wore looked like it had been made for a girl twice her size. Marina didn't hide the contempt on her face as she took the stage. She was making the whole of District Four look pathetic. But at least she wouldn't be up there long.

At the subtlest nod from Four's mayor, Marina raised her hand above the crowd. "I volunteer," She called out, not wasting time in leaving the crowd and taking the stage.

Not even waiting for the escort to so much as ask her name, she edged her way in front of the mic. "My name is Marina Grotto," She said, "Remember that name, Panem, because I am going to be the Victor of the Fifth Quarter Quell."

Lucas Hunter, District 7

"Think we'll get through again this year?"

Lucas looked over at Jaime, who leaned against the door-frame of their shared room. "Of course," He replied, smirking at him, "Not like you and I have that many entries, after all." He looked from his friend to the mirror, making sure his short red hair was neatly parted. He tucked the grey t-shirt he wore into his dark jeans. It wasn't much, really, but it was the best he had. Given how tight things always were at the orphanage, he was lucky to have that.

"Oh, of course," Jaime replied with a snort, "Not like Darrow always picks us first when she needs to pick up the slack."

"Hunter! Glenn!" As if on cue, the sharp shout of the Orphanage's matron made both young men straighten up and make their way through the door. Apparently, they were late, the other orphans crowded around the front door.

"Look on the bright side," Lucas whispered as they fell into place at the back of the group. Miss Darrow scowled at them, checking their name off a long list. "At least you and I have the same amount of slips in. Same chance of getting picked."

"And probably the same chance of surviving," Jaime huffed. "You think Darrow's going to throw any money our way if any of us gets called?"

"Of course not. But the rest of the district will," Lucas replied confidently as they filed out of the orphanage and into the street. They quickly joined the crowd already making their way towards the central square of District Seven. Besides the Justice Building at one end where the stage now stood, and the train station at the other, there wasn't much to the square, only the large, ancient trees that bordered it. Lucas had always liked those trees, liked how you could see where one tree had shifted its growth or been scarred by lightning or dropped a limb, unlike the neat rows of carefully tended trees that dominated most of the district's landscape. He gazed around at them as he waited in the section with Jaime and the rest of the seventeen-year-old boys, trying to pick out changes since the last time he'd spent any length of time in the square. He hadn't since the last reaping, he realized. He'd taken up a job as a lumberjack shortly afterwards, since he was old enough to start working as one.

His attention was finally drawn away as the reaping began, with the same dull speech about the Dark Days (Lucas was almost certain he could recite it by heart) and a reminder of this year's Quell twist. He watched as the female tribute took the stage, before the escort's hand dipped into the other large glass bowl, drawing out a slip from within and slowly unfolding it to read it out.

"Lucas Hunter!"

He was surprised at how calm he was, when he heard his name. Fear and sorrow barely brushed his mind. He could do this. He could do this. He'd survived so far - no parents, having to fight the older, bigger kids for what scraps he could get his hand on, working long hours out in the elements first as a planter and then as a lumberjack. He was strong and fast and could swing an axe as well as anyone else in the district. That already gave him an edge, didn't it?

The escort tugged him over to stand to the left side of the mic once he had ascended. "District 7," The escort said in a deep, booming voice, "I give you your tributes for the One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Fifth Annual Hunger Games! May the odds ever be in your favor!"

Lucas straightened to his full height, finding himself grinning. He would do this.

Dowlas Grieve, District 8

Dowlas Grieve had never liked the near-silence that followed when a name was called at a reaping. He understood why it was so quiet, of course. Anything said would be disrespectful. The last time Eight had won the games had been nineteen years ago, a year before Dowlas had been born. Each year, he'd watched two people make the long walk up to the stage, heard their footsteps echo against the tall buildings that flanked the central square of the districts.

He hadn't expected those footsteps to be his this year.

In his last year of the reaping, too. Dowlas thought he might have a chance at escaping. Poplin, his older sister, had slipped through last year. That left his younger brother Serge and his younger cousins - who might as well be sisters - Lace and Velvet, to get through. He hoped that his going now might save them from the arena. The odds of two people being reaped from the same family had to be low, didn't it?

Lost in his thoughts as he tried to puzzle out the numbers, he barely noticed as he reached the stage, nearly tripping on the stairs on his way up. The escort simply smiled, apparently totally unconcerned. Dowlas had never liked her. Her pinched face made her look like a weasel. It didn't help that this year, her hair and skin was dyed snowy white, with her lips and eyelids painted pitch black. Her dress was the same white of her body, the hem lined with fur. Black-tipped ermine tails dangled from it, swaying with each little move she made.

He worked with the furs that came into the district from Ten. Unloading them and sorting them, mostly, but occasionally doing some prepwork to cut or dye some of it. If the dress was a newer one - and it probably was, he somehow didn't think an Escort would be caught dead wearing something old on Camera on reaping day - he had probably handled the pelts that had become part of that dress somewhere along the line. If he mentioned it to her, would she care?

Probably not.

As the escort gently pulled on his arm, guiding him so he stood just so besides her, he looked out over the crowd. Reality hit him suddenly, knocking the wind out of him. It was all he could do to keep his shoulders from sagging, to resist the urge to curl up into a little ball. He was not going to win. District Eight did not have the funds to truly support him or the girl who'd been reaped. He wasn't particularly strong or fast. He didn't even want to deal with the idea of killing someone else at the moment. This, in all likelihood, would probably be the last time he stood in District Eight.

But still, Panem was watching. If he wanted to have a chance at all, he had to look somewhat capable. He drew himself up and squared his shoulder. He was quite tall, towering at least foot above both the escort and the female tribute, so at least he had that. He didn't smile, but let his expression stay grim, hoping it might look at least a little bit intimidating.

Probably not.

"District Eight," The escort announced, "Here are your tributes for the One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

A/N: And there you have it, our first reapings! I will probably do one more chapter before moving onto the train rides, just to keep things going. There are still plenty of spots open for tributes. I've also added a shorter Bloodbath tribute app, if you want to submit for that, but I'm capping those at 8.