Cardis Mekota, aged 15
She's the least important and the most important person in the room.
All eyes are on Cardis now as she slowly lowers her gaze to the pieces on the board. The three brutish men across from her chuckle; she's some lowly kid and she'll never win the earnings sitting in the centre. Her father slowly paces around them all. He doesn't break his stride, but reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. This isn't her first high-stake match.
She conjures up every little tip she knows, every little detail she's been taught. She may be young and she may be small, but she can outwit her opponents and outsmart them. She's going to win.
In chess, white goes first. Cardis insists on playing with the black pieces. She never makes the first move. Rather, she builds up the egos of these men, so it's all the more satisfying when she tears them all down. She slides a pawn a space up. Harmless move, playing it safe. She prefers going on the defense. No need to get cocky.
Chess isn't her best sport; she's a master with the cards, her namesake. She's the future heir of the Mekota gambling ring, so it's important she knows how to master every little game. Her father, the ringmaster himself, wants her to build up her skills. He brushes by her yet again, and Cardis is relieved by his familiar presence. He's trained her well.
One by one, the pieces scatter. Cardis claims a minor victory when she snatches up a measly white pawn. But it's only a pawn. It's not a high-value target. And Cardis always aims high, hits low. Her bishop comes in grave danger, but her next turn allows her to steer it to safety and take a second pawn in the process. The men grumble along themselves.
Cardis shows no emotion. Her face remains blank.
"We are not losing to some girl," one man says.
Daddy just chuckles. "That would be a shame, wouldn't it? Ah, but I've taught her well."
"Too well," says another man. He touches the brim of his hat. "But don't get too excited, lass. We're just going easy on ya."
And the game begins for real.
Cardis says nothing; she's too focused to talk.
She loses her rook when the men make their first "real" move. Daddy frowns slightly and it's a little bit crushing so Cardis retaliates with a splendid sequence that takes out a knight and two pawns. So she's getting somewhere. She sacrifices a pawn of her own, but it's just a pawn and it gives her the opportunity to remove one of the bishops. Enraged, one of the men slams his fists on the table. Daddy snickers and the tiniest smile appears on Cardis's face, but she regains her composure.
"Easy girl," Daddy whispers. "Take it easy."
But he means no mercy.
Those coins glimmer in the dusty basement they call their arena and how Cardis wants to snatch them up for herself, but she can't. Not yet. She needs to prove that they belong to her. She's got a good lead, but it's not over until it's over and she has her eyes set on the king. The silly little king in his silly little castle surrounded by his silly little pawns merely at his disposal.
"Little girl," one man whispers.
"Little girl," his friend teases.
"You can't beat us," the third one cackles.
"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Daddy replies. He's smug and he has every right to be. "I think you've made a very grave mistake."
As they glance back down, the three men gasp and shout. They wiggle their grummy little fingers as they reach out towards the board, as if the can somehow change their fate. But it's Cardis's turn now and she has no plans of showing them mercy tonight.
Checkmate.
Daddy folds his arms. "Fork it over."
It's a big win tonight as Cardis and her father shove the coins in a leather bag and smile to themselves. Daddy's proud of her, a rare occasion. She must've truly done something great to make him proud of her. "You performed well, my little ace."
Cardis finally lets herself smile. "Thank you."
"Tonight was a good run. But you still have a lot to learn. There were so many moves you made that could've led to your downfall. We run a strict business here and we have no room for wasted potential. So don't let it go to waste."
Since when has Cardis ever let anything go to waste? "I promise I'll train harder."
"Good. There's another gig across town tonight. I want to see you do your best."
Cardis promises she will.
She'll play them all like pawns in her personal games.
Doella Rhumes, aged 33
She hates it when the doctor visits them.
That's because Doella doesn't like being reminded of death. She's seen too much of it. She's been the reaper herself, back in the 58th Hunger Games. She's lost so many loved ones, family friends, and even her enemies.
But nobody can escape death.
She holds her younger brother's hand as the doctor does his thing, then comes back out shaking his head. Doella swears her heart has stopped. "Is he okay, sir? Please tell us he's okay!"
"His condition's worsening."
"We know," Maurice says with a hint of bitterness to his voice. Then it softens as he asks, "Is it the end?"
The doctor shrugs. Doella doesn't like that. If this is it, she wants to be certain.
"Maybe it would be a good idea to start saying your goodbyes." The doctor gives them that same old look of sympathy he's been giving them for the past month.
She pushes open the door, to find her sick and frail father lying in his bed. Like all the other beds in Victor's Village, it's too big even for her father who towers over her by at least a foot. He's dying. She knows. This might be the end.
She doesn't want to say goodbye.
Maurice hesitates beside her. He's always had an awkward relationship with their father. The doctor closes the door and leaves them be. Doella and Maurice just stare at the weak old man before them. They don't really know who he is.
"My children," Father whispers, so quiet he can barely be heard. "My children. Come here."
They stand on either side of the bed. Doella holds her father's hand and something doesn't feel right. His skin lacks the warmth it used to hold, reassuring her, giving her hope. He look so tired.
"You're so big," he whispers. He gently strokes Doella's palm with his finger, tracing the liens of her hand. "Your hair is longer."
"Yeah..." Doella gives her father's hand a squeeze. "I'm here."
"Are you staying?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Good, good." He relaxes slightly. "Where's my son?"
"He's right here." Doella glances over her shoulder. Maurice hovers near the door.
"Can I see him?"
"Of course," Doella whispers. She beckons for Maurice to come over. Slowly and hesitantly, he does. "He's waiting."
Her father stretches out and he hand cups Maurice's face. "My boy..." he trails off. "My son."
"Yeah. It's me." Maurice's face is emotionless and Doella pretends she can't see the single tear sliding down his face.
It's a strange moment, because Doella remembers the years they've spent as each other's throats, and the screams echoing across the hall as she buried her face in her pillow and fought the urge to cry. The utter hatred and disagreement, Maurice's desperate rush to move out and their father's joy at finally being done with him. All that's melted away and she realizes how much Maurice actually looks like him.
"I'm sorry, my boy. I'm so sorry. I wish I never said all those hurtful things about you. I love you so much. I love you, please, I want you to know that. Can you forgive me?"
Maurice hesitates, then looks at Doella. She just shakes her head. It's not her decision to make.
"I...I don't know...yes...yes, I can. Dad, I'm so sorry..." Maurice tails off. He has a vacant look in his eyes. "I'm sorry too."
Doella feels a wave of relief wash over her and the invisible weight is lifted off her shoulders. Everything is suddenly peaceful. She's not smiling, but she's not crying anymore.
"Good..." her father whispers. "I think...I'm ready to go now."
"No, no, no, no, no...Dad!"
He leans back and closes his eyes. Maurice ducks behind Doella and she wants to run away too, but she doesn't. She stays. She promised she'd stay until the very end, no matter how near it feels. She'll be there for him in his final moments.
She's already said her goodbyes.
Maurice has made amends.
There's nothing left.
"I hope I'll meet your mother again. I've gone so long without her. Maybe your sister will be there too. Do you remember your grandparents? Ah, probably not, Doella was only five when they passed. Maurice, you weren't even born! I believe in afterlife. You should too, if I'm going to see you again..."
Doella never hears him finish that thought.
He breathes, and then he's gone.
But she'll see him again.
Eight months later, Doella Rhumes is Reaped into the 75th Hunger Games. She tries her hardest to survive, but compared to Finnick and Johanna and the brother-sister pair and the star-crossed lovers, she's nothing. She dies in the bloodbath, another dead statistic in the cruel, cruel game. Rebellion breaks out and Maurice Rhumes sacrifices himself to defend his sister's home in Victor's Village, a hideout for innocent civilians caught in war.
But they'll meet each other again.
So, that was the D10 females for both the 74th and 75th Games. District 10 has always been my favourite district, so I really hope I did them both justice. What do you think? Do you like them?