Birch Ly, aged 17
Hello Capitol, Birch thinks to himself as he's standing in the middle of the Training Centre. It's kinda overwhelming, really. There's lots to see and do and it's clear that the Careers have taken over the place. they're huge show-offs doing all sorts of fancy yet impractical tricks with a knife or a spear. Yeah it looks cool, but when the boy from District 1 is repeatedly stabbing Birch over and over, is he going to care about a twirling spear?
It surprises him a little how nonchalant he is about his own death.
Birch just can't stand here forever. He makes his way over towards the axes station. He is from 7, after all. Everybody from 7 knows how to use an axe.
Except Birch didn't expect so many. He eyes the rack and he's instantly overwhelmed. There's all sorts of sizes, some sharper, some shinier, some with more intricate carvings on the handles. Some are design for chopping, some for throwing. Some of these weapons don't even look like axes at all.
Birch selects what he guesses is a standard axe, resembling the kind that exist back in 7. He takes a practice swing; it's heavier that what's he used to. The trainer couldn't care less, but she's still watching him from the corner of her eye, just making sure he doesn't chop anybody's limbs off.
Birch notices a dummy and takes a swing at it. The axe gets stuck in the chest. He has to wiggle it a bit before he can yank it out, almost losing the weapon in the process. The trainer's lips purse together. She's clearly irritated. Birch aims for the dummy's face, but misses completely. Finally, the trainer moves towards him.
"Would you like some help, kid? Because you obviously don't know what you're doing."
Birch's response is to cleanly cut off the dummy's arm in one simple swing. "I'm perfectly fine, miss. But thank you so much for the offer."
With that, he strolls away, leaving behind a scowling trainer and an amputated dummy.
Birch scans the area, looking for something else to do. Knots? Traps? Starting a fire? Eventually, he finds himself in line to use the Gauntlets. It seems stressful enough, having to run over the rough terrain while trying to beat everyone else's time. But then, he notices the trainers swinging things at the tributes.
The girl from 3 looks uneasy as she stands on one side of the course, then breaks into a panicky run, tripping as she goes. A trainer swings something into her leg and she loses her balance, toppling headfirst over the side. When she sits up, her lip is split.
Birch winces in sympathy as the Careers snicker in front of him. He is quick to slip from the line, in search of something else to do. That poor girl. She's marked herself as a weakling, someone to be offed in the Bloodbath. It's a sad but harsh truth.
Birch wanders around some more and ends up at the fire-making station. He supposes this would be a good skill to learn now, especially because he's never started a fire before. Fires are dangerous in 7, destroying trees, homes, and years of hard work.
Sitting next to a pair of younger boys, birch gets to work. As it turns out, matches are very fickle and he snaps a few in frustration. Once he finally has a spark, Birch adds as much kindle as he can to keep his fire going.
"That's impressive," a small voice says behind him.
Birch glances over his shoulder. There stands the lanky boy from 8, easily towering over him. "The fire. You make it look so easy."
"Oh, do I?" Birch asks, feigning an innocent tone.
"Um...yeah?"
The boy looks visibly confused and Birch finds it amusing. There's always a certain kind of fun he gets from toying around with hormonal teenagers. They all get so flustered and embarrassed, like the boy from 8 right now. He just awkwardly nods and Birch flashes him a sly grin. "Would you like to know what else I'm good at?"
"Axes?" The boy seems innocent enough, but Birch can tell he's faking. They're both faking. "I mean...since you're from 7 and all..."
"I can see why you'd think that, but that's quite a stereotype, actually."
"Oh? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You know, it's kind of a stereotype that District 8 is all weak and stuff, but we're not!"
"I'd be willing to believe that," Birch says in a low tone. He's caught the boy's attention now.
"Thanks! That was a compliment, right?"
"Of course, dear."
The boy giggles. "Heh, good. Sometimes I never know. I'm Jersey, by the way."
"Birch Ly," Birch responds, reaching up to shake the boy's hand. "But I'll go by whatever you like."
"Oh wow. I think I'll call you Birch. It's such a nice name. Mine's kinda lame, since it's a fabric. My mother picked it out for me and nobody in the family dares to talk back to her."
"Well, my mother picked mine as well and nobody in the district dares to even talk to her." Birch raises an eyebrow. "Would you like a tall and rigid birch tree as your ally?"
"You want to be my ally!?" Jersey covers his mouth, as if he's said something wrong. "That...that would be great!"
Birch smiles as Jersey sits down next to him, but the younger boy doesn't notice. He might stand a chance to live a little longer if he can wrap everyone around his fingers. First, he'll start with Jersey. Perhaps he'll rope in their district partners as well, if Maple's not too busy making goo-goo eyes at the District 6 girl to cooperate. He'll figure things out. He always has a way.
As long as that axes trainer doesn't come after him first.
Blight Jordan, aged 37
When the Quell twist is announced, a heavy atmosphere falls on the district.
Blight asks Johanna if she'd like to come over for dinner, but she's too busy destroying everything in her house out of pure anger. She'll calm down eventually. It just takes a long time. As he ducks when a ceramic mug comes flying at his head, Blight says that his door is always open to her. Then he leaves.
There's six people at the table. Blight, the triplets, his daughter's boyfriend, and his future daughter-in-law. Oake and his fiancee, Daisy, were planning on getting married after the 75th Hunger Games, but now they're thinking of pushing up the wedding date so Blight will be around to see it. It's a shame he'll never get to meet his grandchildren.
For the most part, the table is quiet. Blight is a very quiet man, so the silence doesn't bother him. His kids and their lovers all look uneasy; they struggle to break the silence. Everyone knows the truth; against potential Victors like Finnick, Lyme, Chaff, and even Johanna, Blight doesn't stand a chance. For as strong as they are, District 7 is pretty unlucky when it comes to Victors and Blight is accepting the fact he is going to die.
So he's going to make the most of the time he has left.
Oake mutters to his fiancee about wedding details. Blight watches his son with pride. He cares deeply for his kids and as a family, they've all been through so much together. Blight was a measly 17 year-old when his pregnant girlfriend gave birth to triplets, then passed away shortly afterwards. He took cared of them in her honour. Then, three months later, his parents took care of the children when Blight was thrown into the 55th Hunger Games and killed four people to get back to them.
Four people. One for Oake. Two for his sisters, Ashley and Sienna.
And one for Blight.
The subject eventually turns from marriage to babies. Blight doesn't mind because it breaks the silence that seems to bother everyone else. When Oake brings up the possibility of naming his children after someone as form of remembrance, Blight finally speaks out for the first night all evening.
"I don't want any of my grandsons to be named after me."
Daisy gasps and Oake's face scrunches up in confusion. But hen he starts to relax and says just one simple word.
"Alright."
"Good." Blight nods in approval, then makes a quick attempt to lighten the mood. "I'd rather pass on my genetics instead of emotional baggage."
Oake chuckles; that's the father he knows and loves. The mood lightens, but only a little.
"But Dad..." Ashley says. "Don't you want to remembered?"
"I want to be remembered, but not like that. I don't want you to name a kid after me and constantly compare us. I want you to share memories instead. Tell people about me. Give them stories. That's the real way to do it. That's what I did with your mother, after all. I never named my daughters after her. I gave them names that allowed them to be unique, then told them all I could about the woman who brought them into this world."
Nobody knows how to answer. Oake shrugs in agreement. Ashley seems a little upset, but she'll come to understand eventually. Sienna must think there's an argument brewing, so she keeps out of it and continues to eat her dinner, staring at her plate the whole time.
"Anyways...now's not the time for this. We still have six more months. Let's just have a beautiful evening together as a family."
Outside, the sky grows dark. When the meal is over, Blight carries the dishes to he kitchen. His children offer to help him. Four pairs of hands is faster than one and soon, everything has been cleaned and put away a lot faster than Blight expected. Soon, they all sit in the living room.
Someone has gotten a fire started and while it's quite impractical, especially inside the homes of 7, it creates a warm and cozy effect. An inviting atmosphere. Everyone was to curl up in the armchair surrounding the fireplace; nobody wants to be left out. And they won't. Here, they are all welcome.
That being said, nobody dares to sit in the big leather armchair because it's an unspoken rule and common knowledge that the chair belongs to Blight. He doesn't even his own kids sit there, especially when he's not home.
The kids joke than in Blight's will, he hasn't left the chair for anyone. Not them, not their own offspring, not Johanna, nobody.. And that is the truth. But it's not. Blight hasn't made things official, but he knows exactly where the chair will go because he falls in the arena. Lately, he's been thinking about his will and what will happen in the district once he's gone. He already has plans, even if he won't be alive for them.
Blight wants a small funeral. The district can have a big remembrance ceremony or whatever, but for the actually funeral, only close family is allowed to come. He wants to be buried under the shade of one of the giant trees growing in the cemetery. An exclusive spot, but he's got the money for it. He doesn't want any flowers; they'll just die after a few days and create this ugly sight.
Is it too soon for Blight to be thinking about such things? He supposes so. The Reaping is in six months and he has no idea which Victors go into the arena with him. Well, he knows some of the answers, but not enough for him to accurately say whether or not he's got a good chance of surviving.
But for now, he'll enjoy himself in the comfort of his family.