It's been quite a wait. My mini hiatus is over now, hopefully you can expect regular updates from now on... Hopefully :D
So, I know my last chapter wasn't the greatest - I found it a little hard to write both of those characters - but I don't think it deserved the silent response it received. Thankyou to everyone who reviewed it, if you havent read it yet, you should go check it out. Remember, the more you review the longer your tribute will last (probably) plus the quicker I'll update. Reviews are my main motivation.
This chapter was a joy to write, I absolutely adore both of these tributes even though one of them is a bit of an arsehole. Thanks for these two amazing characters should be directed towards RueThisDay and for the lovely Savannah you should thank HoppsHungerFan. All of the tribbies I've received are amazing!
Kaine's POV's are written in third person so technically they aren't 'Point of Views' but I felt this was the easiest and most effective way of writing him.
So, here it is. Hope you enjoy! :D
Eliza Lirae – District 5 Female
Age: 17
"Who, me?"
I sit on a bench in the park outside the school. The clouds fly overhead, their fluffy white pillows drifting silently in the wind. It's a bright sunny day in District 5, with the sun out nice and high and the sky a crystal blue blanket.
Imagine what it would be like to bounce on a cloud, so fluffy, so light, peaceful and calm. No disturbances, no one to judge you. I wish I could live on the clouds.
A sudden shrill sound disrupts my daydream, schools ended for the day and the students begin to flood out.
Mya Hart and her group of… friends. Come out first. They're giggling and pointing over at a group of boys passing a ball down on the oval. I can hear the muffled words they share. I've been listening to these girls for a week or two now, and I've learned quite a lot.
Mya – I guess she's the leader of the pack – is the daughter of one of District 5's victors and she has a troublesome home life. Her father had something terrible happen to him in the arena and didn't really deal with it in the best possible way, turning to drugs and alcohol. And abuse, if I've heard correctly. She has an age long vendetta against a certain boy is constantly in her face. She's a bitch. Everyone says it, even her friends when she's not paying attention, back-stabbing, that's what Nova calls it.
Her closest friends aren't exactly very kind. They're no better than her. One of them said that they'd got paid to sleep with some guy and other claimed they lost their virginity before they were even sexually able.
I guess you'd call this kind of stuff gossip and say I'm nosy, but it's not as if I'm going to pass it on.
Mya turns to look at me as she walks past. She glares at me and mimes spitting at me, throat sound an all. I don't like it when people judge me, they hardly know who I am. They should wait until they truly understand me before forming an opinion.
My face lights up into a smile as she walks past. Unlike most of the people that attend school in the afternoons, I actually care about what other people think about me.
I only attend school in the afternoon. It's the only time it's free, the only time people like… like I can afford to go. Attending during the actual hours is only for people whose parents work full-time or somehow got lucky and own an electrical organization. Not for people who are one of ten living children or those whose parents can't hold a proper. Not for people who played on the streets as they grew up. Not for people like me.
We wait a few minutes until it seems like the grounds have cleared and then the few hundred of us who had been loitering began to file in. Hoping to be educated, so we could get a job or start a business, so we could break the eternal cycle our families are trapped in. But our hope is pointless. I've attended every day for the last seven years and almost every time they've just force-fed us Capitol propaganda.
I walk by myself. As always.
No, I mean, it hasn't always been like this. I used to be popular enough, at least as much as any other kid. I had loads of friends and they cared about me as well, they weren't like Mya's friends, no, these were real. What happened to them, you ask? He. He happened. He pulled me away from my friends and my life but at least I have one friend…
"Boo!" She yells, grasping me by the shoulders and shaking me.
I yelp in shock before barrelling over into a fit of laughter.
Nova's been my best friend for as long as I can remember. My only friend since about last year. When he tried to break all my outside connections, she held on. I guess you could call her a fighter. She's of Indian ethnicity (One of the only things I've ever learned that wasn't about history) with skin that's a caramel-like shade of brown. She's got this really short brown hair and eyes to match.
"Gotcha!" She says, her face alight with glee.
I smile. I'm about to say something but then she interrupts – "What are you doing after school?"
"Studying, I guess."
"Studying about what? The Capitol? Surely you know enough about that already," she says, arms crossed and one eyebrow cocked. I've always wanted to do that, cock an eyebrow, but whenever I try I just look like an idiot so I don't do it anymore, I don't want people thinking I'm an idiot.
"Sure," I say, "Surely there's more to learn about the origins of the Snow family." This is a joke. The number of times we've learned about the Snow family is phenomenal, especially after Coriolanus died. I guess it's kind of an inside joke.
"Pffft," says Nova, "Now you're just stalling."
Her face lights up, a smile cutting itself across her face, she always does this when she has an idea. "Let's skip."
I can't help but laugh at that. "Nova. Not everyone is as wise as you. I actually want to learn, I wouldn't show if I didn't want to."
Nova can attend school during the actual hours – her parents can afford it – but she chooses afternoons instead, so her parents make sure she actually attends. Whereas for me, it's completely by choice.
"Come on!" She says grabbing my hand and pulling my reluctant body back out the school gates.
"Oi!" calls someone from across the schoolyard. For a second I think I'm busted but then I remember we're not doing anything wrong. It's just Termo – one of his friends – running up the hill towards us.
"Someone told me to deliver this to you," he says, a shy smile crossing his face – we've always assumed he had the hots for Nova.
"Who?" asks Nova as Termo passes me the letter.
Termo just shrugs and sprints back down the hill.
I open the envelope and pull out the slip of paper. It reads:
Dear Eliza,
You have made the biggest mistake of your life. Bitch.
Watch your back,
- K.U.
I take a step back and relinquish the letter, letting it drift down to the earth. Nova doesn't normally go all nosy and stick herself into my business but she must have noted the fear on my face so she leans down and picks up the letter. Besides, she knows I've been receiving threats from… Him.
"Wow," she whispers as she scrunches it up into a ball. I can see her fists clenching and unclenching in anger and frustration.
Who's the letter from? Kaine Underwood, scum of the earth.
I feel like crying…
Kaine Underwood – District 5 Male
Age: 18
"Well, hello there, gorgeous."
The perfect boy stands in the moonlight, it casts shadows behind him, painting a silhouette on the cold concrete.
In his hand he holds a cigarette, lit, and smoking, it's putrid smell wafts from the balcony and off across the District.
Standing on the balcony of his father's three-story mansion, the perfect boy surveys the District, he watches the lights flicker slowly off. It starts at seven o'clock in the slums where people worry about wasting power and ends at midnight in the heights of District 5. This pattern, he notices.
The perfect boy brings his cigarette to his mouth and takes a long drag. He savors it in his mouth before he lets it escape, breathing out the deadly smoke. He has been told so many times that smoking is bad, that smoking kills but so do so many other things. Even he has the capability to kill.
Kaine Underwood holds his hand out over the balcony, holding his smoke between his thumb and forefinger. He rolls it back and forth before loosening his grip and watching it glide down towards the ground. When it lands in the grass, two-storeys below, it flickers – a bright orange glow – before dying out completely, leaving only the butt.
He turns on his heels and heads towards the massive arched doorway, as he opens it a burst of cold air rushes into his bedroom sending his fireplace into a more intense rhythm. It's deep orange flames flicker against the burnt glass casting an eerie glow across the floor nearby. His steel-capped boots echo a repetitive beat as he strides through the room.
At the end of his bed, he sits down. He lies back against his bedding, feeling his messy blonde hair slide across the smooth velvety sheet. District 8, that's where it came from – what scum, living off of barely anything, they should learn to work harder like Kaine, the perfect boy.
He slides his clothing off and, throwing his bedding aside, he jumps into bed. His boots lie in a pile, a few feet away from his massive king-size bed. As Kaine lays there, he thinks of the past, of the present and the future. He fumbles around with his hands, unclasping his gold wristwatch. As he lays it carefully on his bedside table his left hand becomes completely visible. It's a mess, a few scabs here and there and lots of dry crusty blood… That isn't his. Early in the morning - after the perfect boy had posted his letter to Eliza – he had had a run-in with Mya Hart, the bitch of the District. She'd called him a bad word and he'd taught her a lesson. She had been disrespectful and out of many things the perfect boy deserves, respect is the thing he deserves the most.
Kaine Underwood's face lights up in a devilish grin.
He calls for his mother. He's comfortable, with fire roaring at the other side of the room and his body snug and warm in his bedding, there is no way he is going to get up. She comes in, her face worn with signs of age and a sad and tired look chiseled into her once gorgeous face. Twenty odd years of being treated like a slave does this to people. Her husband is a stern and unforgiving man, ordering her around, treating her like a slave. The perfect boy is no better. Once – a long time ago – she had loved Jim Underwood but times change and the feelings – if they ever existed – have long since perished.
Kaine clicks in her direction and points at the light switch. "Light," he says. She flicks the switch and the room is pushed into the pure jet-black darkness of night for a second, never to last, light still comes from the raging fireplace, roaring silently ablaze in the far corner of the room.
This perfect boy is far from perfect. Perception is everything, though, so if everyone believes you are then you might as well be. Kaine Underwood has the good looks, the manners, enough money to keep him alive, he seems loyal and kind: the type of boy girls would die for. But that is only the surface. Underneath: The real truth hides.
The not-so-perfect boy dreams of the girl. His arm is outstretched, stroking hers as she smiles. She was such a needy person, always wanting attention, the attention she never found in her parents. He had fixed her up, gave her what she wanted, made her had made her happy. All was well, at least until she had decided to not pay up when it was her turn. Everything has a price – out of the many things Kaine learned from his father, this was the one that had embedded itself the deepest into his thick skull.
So when Eliza started to become a cheerful person, Kaine asked for payment. Of course, Eliza couldn't give him any money – she didn't have it plus Kaine didn't need it – so he asked for another method of payment: service.
She abided by his rules and their relationship had started to become a more appropriate one, with the man in charge, the lady doing what she was told. It would have lasted if it wasn't for Nova, the dumb bitch. She was a terrible influence on the girl and soon after they had met, Eliza left. Apparently, Kaine had been 'abusing' her but what nonsense it was, he had been supporting her, after all.
And so she was:
Eliza Lirae, scum of the earth.
Eliza Lirae – District 5 Female
Age: 17
"Who, me?"
"Do you like my dress?" I ask mom
"Of course darling," she replies absentmindedly as she fiddles with Poppy's hair. I notice she didn't even bother to look up, how could she know liked it.
"Give up," whispers Sandra in my ear, forcefully, as she walks past, baby held between her arms, "It doesn't get any better."
Well, for her it didn't, but she's her. Determination has never been my sister's strong suit.
I crouch down in front of Poppy and look mom in the eyes. "Mom," I say, "What do you think of my dress?"
"Darling, can't you see I'm busy? Poppy's hair isn't going to brush itself," she says, refusing to take her eyes off the knot that she's combing. When she notices I haven't left, she briefly looks up and flashes me a smile, "Eliza Lirae. Your dress is fine."
I stand up with a smile and twirl across the room.
"Needy," says Greg as he shoves past. He's five years younger than me and treats me like trash. I'm not sure but I think he has anger-management issues, he's always irate and never shares why he bullies his younger siblings and such. It's okay, though, we each have our own way of dealing with our parent's lack of attention.
"Yeah, Eliza. Why are you such an attention-seeker?" That's Pete, more or less Greg's thug – he's eleven. Every time Nova comes over she says I should give them a piece of my mind or something, a whack over the ear – something that always tempts her – or play some kind of practical joke on him. I know I shouldn't let them push me around like they do, since they're like, half a decade younger than me, but they're honestly too cute for me to want to be mean to them. Ursula the next one and she's even cuter, she tries to be all tough like her brothers but she never manages to pull it off. Her 'crossed arm' look is so adorable I can't help but laugh.
Lirita and May-Belle are the ones between Greg and I and they're both very sweet. Lirita is fifteen and probably the sibling I'm closest to. She's not as 'needy' as me (If you ask Greg) but she also enjoys school and is very observant. When we manage to escape the house together we sometimes head out into the desert and watch the clouds float by, much to the jealousy of thirteen-year-old May-Belle.
Col is a year older than me but I hardly ever see him. He hooked up with some girl about a year ago and ended up moving in with her parents. The dad owns some kind of firm that makes tools for the electricians and somehow Col scored a job. He probably promised to wed his daughter. He's the only one of my siblings who's had some kind of success in their life.
Sandra is a year older than Cole – two older than me – and what you'd call a bitch. If she wasn't such an outcast (Being poor and all) ten bucks says she'd be friends with Mya and her group. She slept with some guy she met at a pub and became pregnant (Contraception hasn't quite hit in the slums). The guy ditched her like, straight away, as soon as he heard the word baby. There's no such thing as child funds for people like us, so she's a burden to mom and dad's income. I've heard them talking – they can't wait for her to leave.
There's also Poppy and Day, the two youngest of my siblings. At least, out of the ones that are still alive… Poppy's a doll and definitely mom's favorite. She's actually got looks if you'd hear mom say it. I guess that means the rest of us don't have the looks? Day is only five and he spends all his time with mom. He's okay, I guess, better than Poppy who cried every single night until she was six.
Amelia Lirae is a shell of the person she used to be, decades of giving birth to children and suffering the trauma of miscarriages have taken their toll on her figure. Her wispy, frail figure. She struggles alongside her husband, the man she loves, to make sure they bring their children up to be good citizens. Either that or she wants a hundred grandchildren.
We all receive tesserae - I've got forty extra tickets in this year – to make sure we survive the winter in our shitty excuse for a house. I don't think mom's making Greg take any this year but I'm sure he'll take an extra few when he's thirteen.
I pick up one of the chinked glasses that we own and fill it with the murky bore water. To others, they'd complain about it tasting like rotten eggs but I've grown up on this stuff, the odd taste isn't really… odd.
"Eli!" That'd be Nova, no one else calls me Eli, thankfully. It's kind of a tradition, I guess, us always walking to the reaping together. Especially after what happened with Kaine.
Originally, it had been slow. He was a hot and popular boy a year older than me and I thrived on any morsel attention I was given. I was fourteen when it started for real. He gave my family extra food and told me I was amazing, that he loved me. It wasn't long before I became reliant on his attention. Things were getting worse at home, mom and dad stopped caring, Kaine became my closest friend. And then one day he started acting strangely. He asked me to do things for him like 'fetch him water,' trivial things. He told me that he was a man and she be treated like one, told me that I should do whatever he told me. I wasn't allowed to argue and he began to cut ties with my friends. That was when Nova became suspicious and ended up saving me from Kaine… and myself.
"Let's go!" she calls grabbing my hand and pulling me out the door through my massive family. "See you later Mrs. Lirae!"
Emanuel Selwood – Presidential Candidate, District 5 Mentor
Age: 44
"My life was a shit heap, Drugs, Alcohol, Domestic Violence. And then I got the good news."
"Excuse me, could you please fetch me a scotch – on the rocks," I politely ask the Avox that is serving us.
She smiles back at me, showing teeth. I catch a glimpse of the mouth behind them, a deep shade of red, chunks of flesh torn out and stringy bits of gum rolling around. The way these people are treated… It's inhumane.
"No need to be polite, Emanuel. Treat them like the criminals they are," says Crucis, "I imagine this Avox committed one particularly grievous, treason perhaps? Or some form of murder." Crucis Nairn, the pain in my ass. This man – no, boy. He's not even thirty – is continuously forgetting who's boss. It gets on my nerves, his constant nagging, ordering. I've considered stopping paying him, getting him off my case but he is my perfect guide to the Capitol and its citizens. Sadly, I need him.
That doesn't mean I have to play nicely.
I turn to the Avox that is silently carrying out my order. It's strange really, the odd silence of avoxes, the way they never make a sound, not even a groan. "Avox, what crime do you reckon this one committed?" I ask, pointing at Crucis. "It must have been something particularly bad, poisoning perhaps?"
The Avox makes a cackling sound and casts another teeth-showing smile in my direction. Ick, I feel like I'm about to retch. It's a deep guttural sound, a bit like a monster… or the buzz of the power lines in District five.
I turn to Crucis, to point out that he shouldn't judge people upon first glance, kind of something my mom would have said but he looks shocked. It was a joke, of course, Crucis wouldn't poison someone, he isn't imaginative enough to concoct something that complicated… but his face says otherwise, he looks shocked.
When he sees me looking at him his desperate look wavers for a second before he cracks a smile as well. "Good one, Emanuel. I always thought of you as a funny guy."
What? That joke wasn't funny at all, least, not in my opinion…
Crucis stands up, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up. "May I excuse myself," he asks Savannah, our new mentor. She's been sitting silently in the corner smiling to herself and reading the newspaper the whole time.
She smiles at him. "Of course darling."
Crucis nods in my direction, kind of like a man's thankyou and heads off down the carriage, exiting the dining room from the back entrance.
I take my leave as well, taking my drink from the Avox – Scotch on the rocks, simply sublime – as I leave.
I stride over to the window, sipping my drink as I go. I roll the liquid over in my mouth, savoring its flavor. Since I left District five last time around I vowed to stay away from the drink, well, at least, t stay away from drunkenness. So far, I've succeeded but as I get closer and closer to home I've been starting to feel my façade collapse. I've lived in District five almost all of my life, it's home to me but there are bad parts of it as well. The slums, for example, the place where I grew up. Oh, and the Victor's Village…
Georgia Selwood, how much I would like to get rid of her I cannot disclose.
I stand by the window, watching the landscape fly by. I'm on one of those electromagnetic trains, the one's that can move at up to about six hundred kilometers per hour. The scenery flies past, a vast open desert, dotted here and there with minuscule shrubs, the only sign of green for miles around. Out on the horizon I can see a silhouette of District five: The slums, where the poorer part of the population lives; the power plants, a massive industrial complex housing hundreds of corporations as well as Capitol owned organizations (The most successful ones); The heights of District five are there as well. High above everything else built atop the massive Vanderdill hill. It's the only lump or bump in the massive desert, so all the people that owned some sort of money built their houses there.
I can also see the Victor's Village. I can barely make out its shape and I only can because of the rising sun – shining directly upon it, lighting it up in an insane scarlet glow.
As of now, I don't think anyone has discovered my true agenda. My impeccable plan – flawless – no one will ever expect what I'm going to do when I take control of Panem. Of course, it's not exactly a betrayal, I'm serving the greater good, the Hunger Games are dangerous to the society of Panem and as I claimed at the start of my campaign: I would 'Make Panem great again!"
And I'm not going to renege on my word.
The only person besides me that actually has a chance at doing well in the election is Dawn Angelica, the previous head gamemaker. Her and Atlas Edenthaw, the mysterious 'brother of the Capitol' who has somehow been doing well in the polls.
Not as well as me, though, thanks to Crucis… Thanks to Crucis I'm at the top of the polls every. Single. Time. I mean, the new President won't be announced until after the end of this year's Hunger Games but I've pretty much got this thing in a bag.
Which is why I'm here, really. If I can bring home a victor this year, I've more or less got this election in the bag. And I swear, and when I say this I mean it:
The 103rd Annual Hunger Games will be the last one ever!
Savannah Utopia – District 5 Escort
Age: 62
"Really?" says Emanuel, passing me a glass of water, "I never picked you as that kind of person."
"Oh, yes, I definitely am," I reply, "I starred in many re-incarnations, I did. Once, when I was younger, I got to play Destiny Samara – from your games."
"I remember her well, feisty, very feisty. Was she a joy to act?"
"Yes! She was definitely one of my favorite tributes to act out, though Betty Aurium of the 78th was by far my favorite. Such a character she was, a shame really that Tule finished her off but I guess he made quite a victor, despite his leg injuries."
"He did. I shared a drink with him a couple weeks ago, he's all for my Campaign," says Emanuel, a sly smile on his face. Ever since Crucis left the room he's been acting a bit odd… One of my grandchildren was like this once, turned out he'd been invited to some girls twelfth birthday. Such a sweetheart. "Could you pass the butter?"
"Of course Darling." I haven't spent much time with my grandchildren lately, which is a shame. I miss the little mischief-makers, my jobs been getting in the way a bit, recently. All this District changing and getting used to the new routine. The kids that I escort make up for it though, most of them are just as sweet as any of my grandchildren's friends.
The victors make for great company as well. Emanuel isn't really my type, neither is Trumann – Though he as a great sense of humor – they both turned to the drink soon after their victory. Trumann is understandable, though… The stuff he went through in the arena makes me grimace. Trixie is a doll, though. Always has a smile on her face.
None of those victors are mine, though. Like I said, this is my first year in District 5, though I've mentored for decades in District 9. Thankfully, I've brought one victor home – Priscilla Durum and what a victor she was, the way she toyed with the tributes minds, was a joy to watch.
I was moved to District five after the events of the 101st and the 102nd Annual Hunger Games. Three escorts were shot during the reapings by some anonymous sniper that was never found. The two previous escorts for District five were assassinated on live television. The Capitol tried desperately to organize a new escort but things never go just as they were planned, the world isn't that kind.
So I volunteered, no one else was going to and it would be unfair if the tributes from five didn't have an escort. Besides, it's more or less a promotion there are more victors from five than nine and I get a pay rise plus if I do well I might get promoted to an even better District.
In consequence of the stupid rebels, the Capitol has turned the District's Justice Building Square into a fortified venue, with bulletproof glass in front of the stage and extra guards and laws in place to make sure no on shady gets into the square. Overkill, I say, no one is going to assassinate me.
Emanuel stands up, brushing himself down. "We best be off then, the District is going to wait forever."
I stand on the stage behind the bulletproof glass, gazing lovingly at the children before me.
For sure, I pity whoever is reaped, but it's quite an honor to compete in the Hunger Games, especially with a kind mentor, like me. I'll assure they live out their last days enjoyably. Who knows? Maybe they won't be their last.
Emanuel, Trumann, and Beatrix sit in chairs behind me, with the mayor. I introduce them quickly before continuing with the formalities. I notice a squad of peacekeepers crossing the square in a hurry.
The girl reaped was seventeen but didn't look a second over thirteen. What a lucky girl, age is something you learn to treasure when you're as old as I. Appearance is, however, an advantage when the games come around – sponsors are more likely to trust their money on an older woman than one that looked like they hadn't hit puberty yet.
A rude boy sniggers and when I read the next name, I can't help but feel the karma in this situation as he takes the stage.
Kaine Underwood – District 5 Male
Age: 18
"Well, hello there, gorgeous."
"Kaine, over here," calls a boy dressed to the nines who stands a few feet away. Kaine isn't sure but he thinks his name is Damian. It doesn't matter, everyone calls him Termo anyway.
The not-so-perfect boy saunters over to Termo and the gang. They talk about chicks for a bit (Who's in this year's hottest ten babes) while they wait for District 5's new number one bimbo to take the stage. The last two were sniped as they waited. Idiots.
One of the boys suggests putting Mya Hart on the list – the dumb bitch who thinks she's queen of the world – and it takes Kaine's persuasion to change their minds. The not-so-perfect boy's always had a talent for persuasion, whatever he says people always believe, it's always right of course – Kaine knows everything. He's always been the type of person who seems right, even if what he says is completely illogical. And besides, it wasn't exactly a hard case to argue, everyone knew Mya was a dumb bitch who didn't deserve anyone's time of day. She thinks she perfect amazing and Kaine knows that's laughable. What a bitch.
Kaine can't stand people who think they're amazing. In this world there's only room for people that really are amazing – take Kaine for example.
Termo points up at the stage, interrupting their in-depth conversation, with a goofy grin plastered onto his face.
The not-so-perfect boy doesn't know much about Termo, they've been friends for a long time but they're not the kind of people that get all mushy and talk about the 'real' problems, the ones no one gives a flying fuck about. Kaine doesn't know how he got his nickname and if he did, it'd probably go straight over his head, he's never been one for understanding double meanings. Termo is the shortened phrase for thermonuclear a long term, a pain to speak out as the multiple syllables usually get muddled up. Word is that Damian has a personality like nuclear – uncontrollable – which won him his name. But like I said this isn't the kind of thing Kaine cares about. Not at all.
Annoyance evident on their faces (They had been enjoying the conversation at hand), the boys looked up at the stage. Some dumb Capitol bitch stood there, with hair died a fiery red. She looked about thirty but to everyone,it was obvious that she was definitely older than fifty – at least. She was fat and that was the kind way to put it, with fairly wrinkled skin. She was dressed in a red dress and a golden necklace hung from her neck, District 5's cog-like symbol adorned the chainwork.
As the idle chit-chat ceased and everyone began to pay attention to the slag on the stage, the not-so-perfect boy glanced over to the girl section. Now, Kaine had always been interested in the opposite gender, most boys his age were and when the reapings came around Kaine treated it as a perfect opportunity to check girl's out. He loved it when they were tense. But that wasn't the reason his eyes had wandered over there, no, he was looking for the girl.
He spotted Nova first, the dumb Indian bitch who'd stolen Kaine's payment. She was easy to find, with skin like that, you could spot her a mile away. She wasn't far away, her brown curly hair swaying in the breeze. As soon as Kaine located her, her eyes flickered towards him as if she could sense his presence from the opposite end of the square. He tried to hold eye-contact, show her who was boss - like his father had always told him to do - but she had always been a tough bitch to crack, her eyes flickered away just as fast. He was pleased, though, when he saw a look of fear cross her face. Maybe it was the fact he hadn't eaten any breakfast (He simply couldn't be bothered, and his mom hadn't come when he'd called) that made his tummy rumble but Kaine was sure it had been the loom that crossed that girls face. The one that showed he'd achieved power.
He relished when her name was called and everyone in the square heard him snigger as the bitch took the stage. He copped a few glares from other citizens and he swore he could feel Nova's eyes burning into him. The worst of the lot was the escort. Her stink-eye was the scariest Kaine had ever seen.
Now it was time for the boy's name.
"Kaine Underwood," said the retarded bitch that had just sentenced Kaine Underwood – The Kaine Underwood, mind you – to his imminent doom.
The not-so-perfect boy waited for a second and then another. Waiting for the volunteer to announce themselves. As soon as it became evident that was not to be, Kaine shrugged, pulled a chick-winning smile and sauntered up to the stage. His perfect teeth almost distracted people from the voice in the crowd that called "Karma, bitch!"
He wasn't sure but he swore that he saw the faintest hint of a smile light up Eliza Lirae's face.
So, what are your thoughts on these two tributes?
Who do you prefer? Eliza or Kaine?
Who's your favorite tribbie so far?
You know those little chart thingies? They help a lot with letting me know who you like and in what order, :D
There are so many American spellings in this that irritate me, I know this an American website but I'm Australian and it's a little frustrating when it autocorrects mum to mom, or favourite to favorite, or (This one is bad) learnt to learned... XD But I gave up, what will be, will be.
You may have noticed how Emanuel has changed. Though still keeping some of his morals, the once humble and wilful victor has become a vain and slightly selfish Capitolite. He has more or less became one with the sheep-like people of the Capitol, being herded about. Don't hate him just yet, he might change and don't worry, it's all part of a greater cause: The plot of the story ;)
If you havent submitted to sootyy's 'Memories - The 25th Annual Hunger Games' yet you should definitely do that. He's a great writer and his rendition of the infamous first quarter quell is sure to be GREAT!
So... The Sponsorship Program has been officially canceled. I apologize to anyone who really wanted it to be part of this story. The vote was 3 against 2 plus 3 people voted for my decision - which was that it would have a negative impact on the story. So, essentially, it was 6 against 2.
Please Review, they keep me motivated!
Until Next Time! :D
