District 9

Leilani Tareyn (17) and Hollis Pobarr (17)

Leilani looked around cautiously. Half expecting someone to reach out and jump her. Because that was what it was like when they announced the fact that they were making something called the Hunger games. When they explained the idea behind the Hunger games, She'd wanted to puke. It didn't help that Lili had.

Right there, in front of the whole District, Leilani's best friend had puked all over the ground. She remembered the ceremony coming to a sort of stop and then all eyes had turned to her. She remembered Lili lazily trying to wipe off the puke but knew it was particularly hopeless. Considering the fact that she wasn't wearing a long sleeved shirt and therefore has nothing for the... Vomit, to erm, soak up.

Leilani remembered it being so sudden that she'd barely react before Lili had doubled over and started puking. Horrible retching sounds coming directly from her mouth. Her reasoning afterwards had been that she'd been so disgusted, although fear was also written all over her face, and been poorly concealed. Leilani'd hastily tried grabbing her best friend's hair to try and keep it out of the projectile vomit, she'd succeeded, for the most part. Leilani thought the games were sick, yes, but genius. So very, very genius.

She partially wanted to applaud the man responsible. She wanted to ask how was it he'd come up with such an idea, such a genius idea. Because what better way to inspire fear and punishment than making their own kin do it? They weren't the ones murderring Panem's children. Panem's own kind were doing so. If Leilani was reaped and she killed, she murderred, she would be to blame. Not the Capitol, not the other tributes, only herself. Herself for raising the weapon and bringing it back down. It would have been her arm that'd ended another life. Not the Capitol's.

Lili had ranted on and on about how these games were inhuman and wrong. How Lili hated these games so. That maybe they should have participated more in the war to avoid this situation. Maybe if they'd faught, this wouldn't be happening. That if she was reaped and made into one of their tributes, it would be the Capitol's fault for even creating the Games in the first place. If she murderred it was the Capitol's fault.

Leilani disagreed with that. The Capitol wasn't the one who would bring down the knife that pierced another's heart. They always had choices, no matter how impossible or forced you feel, how pressured into a choice you feel you are, you still have one. A choice. Even if it got you killed, it was your choice to not murder. Leilani didn't give a Damn if it was self-defence. It was still murder. Leilani wasn't sure why this irrational need to sort of defend the Capitol was so suddenly arising, but she didn't like it. Because geniuses were most almost always insane. The creator of these games no different. These were the works of madmen, Leilani was positive. She wasn't defending them, she would keep protesting, she was just... Twisted. Very very twisted.

She wasn't sure if she would be able to, murder that is. She could hurt, hurt someone so much that they begged for mercy. Hurt them so that they bled, they screamed and cried. She could torture them to insanity, but kill? She wasn't sure. She just desperately hoped she wouldn't have to. Taking another's life was a sin. Taking another's life would deprive their loved ones of everything they held dear. If she would lose Lili, Leilani wouldn't know what she'd do. Throw a fit, sink into depression, unleash an uncontrollable rage? All of the above most likely. Then she would mourn. Mourn until she had no days no more.

Leilani would contemplate this over and over, expecting something different to arise each time. She kept telling herself the same things, over and over, same order, same everything. Same result, too, obviously. A new point to be brought up or a loop hole in the fine print. She was wrong, she never did, but she hadn't really expected to either. Just her mind filtering her hope into her despair, in a futile attempt to keep her going.

She wondered if she would enjoy watching the games, they'd certainly be interesting to watch wouldn't they? They were a game of strategy and real world knowledge. Leilani didn't care how educated you were, if you'd never set foot outside a textbook, never fully stood up for yourself, then you were as good as dead weren't you? Leilani had real-world experience, that made her dangerous. She had a taste for blood and war. But never did she seem to have on for death. Which would confuse her, how hard could killing someone be? In her mind she was always capable, wasn't she? So why did the sinking feeling in her stomach, telling her that if faced with it, she wouldn't. Why in the world did she believe it?

Leilani knew her limits, she had to be aware of them. If not, he ever was she supposed to be anything greater than what she was now? Know your limits. She just knew that these games may either crush these limits into oblivion or pound them so hard into her mind that they were all she saw? Who's to say anyways she'd even get reaped? Leilani felt a small smile tug at her lips at the thought. Why though, she wasn't quite sure.

The way they dressed it up as a sort of beauty pageant made Leilani's smile, her strange irrational smile, grow. It was genius, she wouldn't deny anyone the honours of it being called so. But when did the lines between genius and mad become so blurred? She wasn't sure. Leilani was just certain that the Games didn't make a murderrer. It just brought out the hiding one within.

But if you never even had one to start with, well, you were pretty much screwed weren't you?

District 10

Buck Chandler (13) and Haizea Lobo (18)

Buck bit down onto his lip hard to stop the tears from coming. Trying to focus on the pain of spill of blood rather than the knowledge he'd just received. Because the last thing he needed was to be publicly humiliated in front of all these people. His eyes searched the crowd eagerly, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone he knew. Ralphie or Haizea most preferably. He needed some comfort. Sure him and Ralph hadn't been on the best of terms since their falling out, but he was sure he could manage. Especially if he saw Buck crying, or just screaming uncontrollably. But Ralph had stolen, he deserved every little bit of criticism from Buck as he'd gotten, right?

Buck wasn't even sure anymore. He'd never been the best with feelings, or friends, considering his lack there of. Haizea was always nice though, he almost considered going to the butcher's just to see her. She was like the mother figure he'd lost, well, maybe more of a really mature older sister. It didn't take a genius to understand that Haizea was a lot more mature than what her age would like you to believe. One look into her brown eyes and Buck had wanted to leave, because even though she was one of his best friends, there were definitely times when she scared him. Especially when she got that certain glint in her eyes, or her face took on a strange look. One Buck could never identify. It gave him a nasty feeling, but he wasn't even sure if that was right. Just that it... unnerved him. She was strange and had seen things, she'd definitely seen things. The first time he'd met her, she'd practically oozed hostility, he'd been scarred off for a while to say the least.

Buck knew that if he was chosen he'd die. Not sure why, but Buck, was not Victor's material. He was scrawny and small, much smaller than most boys his age. He was also completely incompetent when it came to knowing who to trust. Buck was sure he'd either trust no one and end up dying alone, or make the worse alliance in the history of alliances and be stabbed in the back, countless times no doubt either. He knew Ralphie would probably make it far, maybe not to Victor's alley, but he'd definitely make it farther than Buck would. And Haizea? he wasn't sure, at all.

Buck thought the games were so horrible, what kind of sicko had imagined them? He listened to their mayor listing off several other things to do with the games, but he soon realized they were just some precautions. Precautions? In a battle to the death? You had to be kidding him. It was just some things about not committing suicide, or they, they'd kill your family. What? Buck bit down onto his lip harder, drawing blood this time. His eyes watered in a familiar sense of sadness and he just bit down harder, probably not the smartest decision but Buck didn't care. he didn't want another reason for people to criticize him, or bully him for. He was already a practically friendless loser, scrawny and small, but now he'd be known as a cry baby too. He ducked his head, just in case tears did decide to fall, at least now they'd be covered.

These games were absolutely disgusting, he didn't understand how their mayor could read that and not be disgusted. Feel ashamed or wanting to cry. he was pretty sure they had two children, one boy and one girl. Buck wasn't sure if they were of reaping age, but if they weren't then she could still have the decency to think about how the others were feeling. How they might be absolutely disgusted or tearful, because they were all at risk. Them, her public, they were all at risk, they were all fearful of her power, the Capitol's power. Maybe that was why she didn't look so unnerved, because she, nor were her children, at risk. And now her very being inspired fear. District 10 hadn't been the most rebellious District, these games were what cut that cord entirely. At least, Buck assumed it had.

He meant, who would cheer for the Capitol after something like this? because the Capitol wasn't just punishing the rebels, they were punishing everyone. Neutrals, Loyalist, their own kind. Buck didn't understand any of it. How could anyone still be loyal to the Capitol after this? He didn't understand people. Why would a human being create this, why would someone just like Buck think this up and create it. Force it upon the population, abuse their power, and then love themselves afterwards? His head hurt from everything he'd just heard. To the games, to the dead silence surrounding him. The District was absolutely silent, no one dared to speak. The only sounds were muffled tears and those who'd been to lazy to cover it up. Human were so complicated some were monsters some were not. What had corrupted man so much that things like the Hunger Games were real?

He thought some more, maybe the mayor wasn't so bad. She had to be somewhat relieved didn't she? No one she loved was dying in the next week. She must've been so relived, so thankful, that she didn't have the energy to put on a sad front. Maybe the cheerfulness was front, actually. Buck couldn't even tell at this point. All Buck cared about was how disgusting and vile these games were, how he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he'd been the creator. Buck chose to ignore anything brilliant of these games. Instead of seeing a genius, he saw a monster. But really, what even was the difference?

District 11

Sparrow Blackmore (18) and Thorn Willows (16)

Sparrow closed her eyes. Her back still stinging slightly, her whip marks not fully healed. It'd been days, but without the help of an actual qualified Doctor, she was pretty much screwed. Sage had tried to help, but being blind and all that, she hadn't done much. Her back was badly bandaged, her cuts were also most likely infected by now. She felt like actual crap, to sum it up. She'd barely been able to move after that excruciating pain that that man had decided to grace her back.

When she was forced By the peacekeepers out of her own house and into the street when she was barely able to walk without pain etching through her entire body, she had almost lost it. When the actual announcement was made, Sparrow had almost passed out. She liked to think it was the combination of the pain as well as the absolute monstrous Idea that the games were. They were a sick monstrous things that made Sparrow uncomfortable.

Because that was what they did, they made her feel strange. She wanted to bash the Capitol's heads in for it, but a small part of her found herself praising the Capitol. Which made her want to hurt them even more. She'd been so insufferably angry, so extremely irritated. She'd hated it. Her mind had been consumed with anger, she'd been seeing red and white. Her head buzzing lowly, it'd been tHe only thing she could hear. Just the low buzzing of her own emotion taking over, blocking out everything. Sparrow couldn't think straight when angry. And that was what these games had made her feel. They made her feel so damn angry.

Whenever Sparrow got mad, well, she had some rather destructive habits. As soon as she'd gotten home, practically staggered back due to the sock and pain, she'd punched her wall. Friggin' hard. The scariest part was that despite the horrible stinging pain that'd shot up her arm, she'd barely even felt it compared to the burning monstrosity on her back.

She'd tried applying some sort of plant that someone had told her helped, that didn't really work when you couldn't see what you were doing and the only other person helping you was blind. Not that she didn't love Sage, who was Sparrow's entire life. Well, now she also had a bandaged wrist to go along with her back. Not to mention a new window in the entrance way of their home.

Sparrow couldn't imagine getting chosen. Not only would that mean crap for Sage, but how could she even imagine murderring someone? If she died, Sage would be as well as dead. No one in the right minds would take her in. Sure they may like Sage, but when it came down to it, they weren't going to risk the extra mouth to feed. Especially one that wouldn't be able to work, ever. People knew how to survive, and that wasn't taking in the practically homeless blind girl.

And the thought of killing someone, was so unfathomnable that Sparrow had actually clutched her head and laughed. Laughed at her own stupid misery and insanity. She wouldn't know anyone's stories. For al she knew, by killing that seemingly well off boy from District 8, she was actually just killing off another Sage. That thought scared her, scared her so much she'd laughed. Messed up, she knew.

None of it seemed real, if you could imagine. Just like some bad dream, it wouldn't seem real until she had to watch someone she knew, devellope into a murderrer. Someone she knew die, someone she knew become everything the Captiol had forced them to. The stupid (genius) Capitol. She felt the familiar buzz of anger simmer through her. But forced it down roughly.

Sparrow hated being out of context, she hated it. How was she supposed to know of the boy she was about to murderred was a sain or sinner? How was she supposed to know of that girl she was about to kill had a family depending on her survival. She didn't know anything. She wouldn't know anything! And that killed her. She would have to murder, and it would be the Capitol's fault. So she was the one holding the knife, they were the ones controlling and pulling her strings. Like some demonic puppet master. They were disgusting.

How could she cope, even if she won, with knowing that she'd potential doomed an innocent soul to death? That she'd forced a family into poverty? She had moral, she had a conscious and was strongly driven by it. How would she able to kill? How could she bring down that knife knowing that her conscious had been screaming no that whole way. It's voice flashing in front of her eyes before the kill. That her survival, had meant the death of another.

Alliances, Sparrow wasn't sure what to make of them. She wasn't sure at all. They could be the greatest freakin thing she'd do in the games, or her worst decision ever. Because how were you suppose to know? Know anything about what kind of person you were allying with. They could be putting up a front, trying to charm or flatter their way to you. How was she supposed to know what was genuine and what wasn't?

Did Sparrow even have any past training that could help her In these games? Any skills that'd been long retained since childhood? She didn't think so. Unless you counted chopping corn the same as chopping flesh. She didn't even know basic first aid if her back was anything to go by.

Screw it, Sparrow didn't care. It wasn't as of she'd be freakin' picked anyways. Plus, as long as Sage was safe, Sparrow couldn't care less.

District 12

Lilith Cadow (13) and Alarik Dayne (15)

Lilith screamed. She clutched her head and clawed angrily at her hair. She couldn't take it. The voices, they were crowding around in her head, nightmares were coming back fully realized. She screamed again and she heard a crash from downstairs. And a shout. She didn't know who shouted though.

She was in an arena, her vision tinted red. She was running, her surrounding passing by her in a flurry of motion. She just kept running, her hair was sticky with sweat and plastered to her forehead. She stumbles slightly and falls, her arms bends awkwardly underneath her. A sickening crunch emerging. She's not crying but screaming, it hurts so much the tears won't come. Instead her voice is hoarse with screaming, screaming for pain. Until suddenly she clamps her mouth shut realizing her mistake. She's alerted the predator to her place of rest. The grass gently tickles her face as she watches the blood leave her arm and soak into the dirt. She's waiting now, for some reason, waiting for her predator. She knows she won't be able to escape.

Her arm can barely function, but she manages to get up, her arm hanging limply at her side. Lilith lets out a cry as a sudden movement sends her tumbling back down. She feels blood trickle down her face from where she bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. She can feels a bruise starting to form on her cheek, too.

Her predator steps into the clearing, her breath hitches. She'd led him right to her. She stares, it's the man that murderred her family. He smiles, but his face is blurred, the only thing visible are his eyes. A startling blue that shocks Lilith out of her stumper. She starts to back up, ignoring the pain in her arm, biting down on her lip to avoid crying. Frantically trying to escape, despite having time to do so before. Her arm hurts so much that she is crying now, tears prickle her eyes and moisture a tickles her cheeks. She's shuffling back faster now until she stops. Her back's hit a tree. She slumps down awkwardly and defeated, but still crying. The predator looms above her before bringing it down, the weapon down. Her vision flares with light.

And she's back, her brother holding her and rocking her forcefully. "Lilith! Lilith!" Her hands are still clamped down onto her ears, her voice makes an awkward croaking sound. Her voice still hoarse from screaming. She's scared, that's just been her uncle in the hunger games. He'd been coming to kill her, murder her. Again. This time it's just been in the personal hell the Capitol had created.

"Lilith." She turns her head and sees the brown eyes of her brother staring into her own. "Lilith." She gives an awkward head nod. He smiles, but it's sad and forced. Her mind is still racing, she can still hear the whispers too. Her personal demons throwing themselves in her face again and again. She feels the extreme pain of memories coming back again.

Her vision takes on a greenish hue and an oddly feminine voice carries through her mind. Piercing and cold. She clutches her head, as if it'd make it better. The voice carries through, but then it all clears again. Lilith is left standing, she sees her brother's arm on her wrist. She wonders vaguely if he'd lifted her up. Or if she'd gotten up on her own and almost fallen back down.

She still felt dizzy. Already her past nightmare and present one was mixing in. She can't help it, but these games have already taking hold of her subconscious. Now, combining her two greatest fears into one. And Lilith can't take it.

Hunted. Not again. Hunted to kill. No. Lilith can't take it. She can't be hunted again. Never again. Her brother's there. Looking at her with concern and anxiety. "I-" she is silenced by a wave of his hand. "No need to explain yourself. It's Ok." He bends down to give her a hug, his black hair sweeping across his forehead to cover his eyes. Lilith is stiff as rocks at first but soon leans into it. Squeezing her eyes shut so that the nightmares don't come flooding back.

They stay there, hugging, for a while. Lilith is greatful for the comfort. She'd thought the nightmares had been getting better, the constant voices and sounds, they'd been getting better. Right? She'd thought so, but these games had brought Everything back. Everything back. Her head hurt from all the thinking and fear. She couldn't take any more fear. Her brother was all she had, she couldn't cope without him. Lilith was not Ok.

The games were her worst nightmare relived, running away from predators. Trying not to get killed, to know that there was someone actively trying to kill her. Lilith had hated it, it had hurt her. Broken her. Shattered her. And now it was coming back, all those repressed memories and hurt. All the pain and death. She can see it clearly and it hurts. And for entertainment, for someone else's sick, cruel entertainment. She starts panting into her brother's chest. Heavily panting.

Then she's screaming. Screaming and screaming. Her mind is scattered. She drops to her knees bringing her brother down with her. She starts to shake and her brother hold her tightly to stop it. But then the nightmares reproach and his eyes are now bright red. Blood red, his face is contorting and suddenly he's the man who murderred her family. And she screams. Her mind consumed once again by her own fears, powerful enough to completely consume her. Until she's fully certain that what she's seeing is reality.

Sorry I got this out so late, but I had my brother's birthday to celebrate. So yeah... Poll's still up for you to vote for your favourite tribute.