Ha! Two updates in two days! I'm on a roll! Although, admittedly, sick days are good for that…you just can write all day and voila, two updates! Plus, it's really not that bad—just bad enough to have me stay home, but not bad enough to be puking my guts out. You're welcome for the mental image.
ONE LAST THING. Lurkers. I know you're out there…I do check my story traffic and so when I see that 13 people viewed District 6's reapings and that 9 people visited the same page, I feel a little disheartened when I only get one review…and it's not even on District 6. I know that the break is responsible for this and that my slow updates have cost this story followers, but really: just taking a minute to even write a short comment like "Good job" makes me feel a whole lot better.
District 7 is a pretty epic District this year, and I keep going back and forth on whether it will be a split POV again or just a solid one. They're both just such great characters, and once I start writing one I just don't want to stop!
Also, the way that I'm actually setting up the POV's goes as follows:
If your character didn't get a reaping POV, they'll get a interview/training/train ride/night before games/chariot rides POV. (And yes, I'm aware that that was VERY out of order)
If your character had a spilt POV, they will have another POV in the time periods mentioned above, albeit shorter than the others.
All of the characters will get to say something at least once in those time periods when it's not their POV, ex: Tribute 1's POV: Lalala, doing stuff…oh look, it's Tribute 2, hey, Tribute 2, wassup?
Well, not exactly, but you get the point. I'm trying to give all the characters equal screen time. Story time?
Anyway, onto the reapings. (I've noticed that I have a penchant for long A/Ns….) Thanks to RockSolid for Tasi and piratelvrr35 for Aryn.
(OMTL that A/N is nearly a page long!)
District 7: Tasi Merkava
By the time that the sun is rising on Reaping Day, I've already been up for awhile. It's always beautiful to see the sun rise, especially in District Seven, where the light falls through the evergreens and casts a rosy hue on the ground. If you look up, the spaces between the tops of the trees are pastel pink or burnt orange, with the robin's egg blue peeping through as the day progresses. I have to get up early whenever I want to watch the sunrise, but it's always worth it.
Hope, my border collie and only friend, sits beside me quietly, her head resting on her dainty white paws. I know that she can't understand me, but she seems to realize that watching the sunrise isn't a time to be chasing squirrels.
It's still dark out, but as we watch, the first glimmer of sunlight appears on the horizon. Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun comes up. There are not enough clouds to produce the truly dazzling purples, oranges and pinks, but the bit of orange in the sky will suffice for now. The sky skips the colors and simply fades from black to bright blue as we watch. It's not nearly as pretty, but still a veritable miracle to watch in and of itself: black to charcoal to downy gray to baby blue to robin's egg.
It seems a shame that a beautiful thing like a sunrise is wasted on a dark day like today.
The sunrise over, I sit up and scratch Hope behind the ear. She wags her tail happily, then darts off into the forest, sniffing bushes and staring wide-eyed at small animals. Even though she sees the outdoors every day, she's still just as enraptured by it today as she was a week ago.
I start to walk back to my house, a lodge in the woods. My adoptive father, Haloti Merkava, lives there because he's one of the lumber bosses and, as he puts it, he likes to keep an eye on the business. I think that's just his excuse for living in the outdoors where he's much happier, as opposed to a nice house in the central District, but I don't question his motives.
I don't really have any memory of my real father, and none of my mother. The ones I have of my father aren't very nice anyway: anger and hatred towards me. He abandoned me in the woods when I was five, and Haloti found me on the brink of death. I don't know why he abandoned me, but part of me is glad that he did: I'm much happier here than when I remember being with him.
The carpet of fallen pine needles softens my steps but the forest is loud in the morning if you listen. Hope snuffles after a bug, animals run through the underbrush, birds twitter softly, and the wind gently shakes the pine needles, a sound that fades into white noise for many of District 7's inhabitants, but to me is always there.
When I reach the cabin, Haloti is already waiting for me on the porch. Hope bounds up next to him and happily licks his hand, but he ignores her. He crosses his arms and looks stern, but I know that he really doesn't mind my walks in the woods.
"Where've you been?" he questions, and although he knows the answer, it seems like something that is obligatory to ask.
"Outside with Hope," I respond, my voice quiet as always. I suppose that my voice and my personality are opposite of what you'd expect from someone who looks like me: a hulking, 6'4 18-year old, but I've never really been the aggressive type.
Haloti sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me?" Another obligatory question.
I shrug. "It was early, and I didn't want to wake you up."
He cracks a wry smile. "Fair enough. Come on inside, have some breakfast if you haven't eaten already."
I hadn't, and didn't realize how hungry I was until now. I walk up the stairs carefully as always: stairs are a bit difficult with my leg. When I was younger and working in the lumberyard, a tree fell on my leg and it didn't heal quite right. Now, I have a slight limp, and although it's annoying, I try not to let it get in my way.
After all, the tree could have fallen on all of me, and then where would we be?
I lumber into the cabin, ducking my head slightly to get through the door, and Hope slinks in with me. Inside, I sit in one of the two oak chairs at the kitchen table as Haloti comes out with a plate of eggs and bacon.
Most of District Seven would be amazed that we have a similar breakfast every day, but since Haloti's a lumber boss, we have enough money to afford nice breakfasts, at least. I try not to take it for granted, but I sort of do anyway.
After opening a window to get some fresh air into the stuffy cabin, he joins me at the table and we begin to eat. Hope shuffles about under the table, looking for scraps, and I surreptitiously feed her a slice of bacon.
It's quiet at the table until Haloti breaks the silence. "Are you nervous?" he asks, a tinge of worry in his voice.
I stop with a forkful of eggs halfway to my mouth, and put the fork down. Suddenly I'm not that hungry anymore. "Yes," I respond bluntly.
An awkward silence falls upon our small table, broken by Hope's whines when she realizes that food has stopped coming. I pat her head under the table and put some eggs on the floor for her.
"I don't know what to say," he starts finally. "There really isn't anything to say. I remember my reapings as a kid, and I was always just as nervous. You're lucky; you just have to go through one."
I nod. I knew this…but what if I get drawn? The fact that I only have one reaping doesn't reduce my chances of being drawn this year.
But I generally try not to sink into pessimism.
We finish breakfast in silence, and give Hope our leftovers. Haloti puts the plates in the sink, and then we go to get ready.
Entering my room, which always feels much too cramped for me, I notice an outfit laying on the bed: Haloti must have gotten it yesterday and then put it on my bed while he was waiting for me to come back this morning.
It's pretty simple: nothing too fancy, which I appreciate. It's a pair of nice jeans and a dark green dress shirt, nothing frilly or uncomfortable. I pull the outfit on, my large fingers briefly fumbling with the buttons on the shirt. I finger-comb my longish, curly brown hair and put it in a low ponytail; it irritates me when it gets into my eyes.
I walk back out into the kitchen and Haloti gives me a once-over. "You look fine," he pronounces, and we set off. I want to bring Hope, but I don't ask. It seems a little childish, and besides, who brings their dog to the reapings?
We talk idly, staying away from the subject of the reapings. Well, I say talk: our conversations usually consist of him asking a question and me briefly answering. Sometimes Haloti comments that it's a blessing to have a teenage boy who barely talks, other times he insists that he wants to know more about me. Frankly, having had raised me, I figure he knows everything there is to know about me, which isn't that much. I'm not a very intriguing person, I suppose. And talking simply isn't my strong suit.
By now, everyone else is probably just waking up, or maybe having breakfast if they live on the outskirts of town. It's a three mile walk to the town square from our house, though, so we had to leave earlier. When we finally enter the center of District Seven, I feel a little self-conscious. I haven't been here for a long time, except for the occasional grocery run. Sure, I went to school, but I dropped out after ninth grade. School didn't hold many interests for me, because as far as I can tell, there are two reasons why people go to school: a social life, and to learn. As you might have guessed by now, I'm not the most social person, and I'm about average when it comes to intellect, although sometimes I wish that I was a little smarter.
I can see the town square now, and people have begun to gather. The sheer number of the people makes me a little nervous, and I jump as something suddenly licks my hand. I turn around and can't help letting out a little chuckle: it's Hope. Now I remember: we left the window open. She must have gotten out and followed us all the way here. I ruffle the fur on her head and point her out to Haloti.
He sighs wearily, but it's the joking kind so I know that he doesn't really mind. "That dog," he says, shaking his head in wonder. "She always follows you around."
I grin. "Apparently."
We walk the short distance to the check in station, then say a short goodbye. Although Hope whines about being separated from me, Haloti drags her off by her collar. She earns strange looks from the Peacekeepers, but no one has asked Haloti to take her away, which is a good thing.
The Peacekeeper pricks my finger, then points me to the 18's section. I awkwardly shuffle my way through the crowd until I find a spot to stand.
Luckily, we made it on time, if not a little early. I wait for about five minutes before the escort comes onstage. She's extremely petite, and can't be more than five feet tall. She has light pink hair and a flouncy turquoise dress with a huge skirt and more ruffles than I care to count. It looks extremely uncomfortable, but she doesn't seem to mind. She has long, bright red hair and bright turquoise eyes to match her gown. She also has an enormous amount of gold eyeshadow on. I wonder how she can cope with all that stuff on her face—wouldn't it fall into her eyes? But it would be rude to ask, and besides, hopefully I'll never have to meet her one-on-one, because if I did, that would mean that I had been reaped.
"Hello, District Seven!" she announces, having to stand on tiptoes—or what I assume are tiptoes, I can't see her feet underneath the huge gown—to reach the microphone. "Are you excited for the new Hunger Games? I know I am!" She cheers and claps her hands daintily, trying to spur on applause. There's a few halfhearted claps, but I don't join in.
She frowns, obviously disappointed by the crowd's meager reaction. "And now, to the mayor to read the fantastic new Treaty of Treason!" She backs offstage, gesturing to the mayor as she does so. It looks pretty ridiculous, but I don't think she cares, as she's beaming.
The mayor, an old man, steps up to the microphone. I think that he was the mayor before the rebellion too, but I don't know for sure. Like I said, I dropped out of school.
He slowly reads the Treaty, and I try to listen, but half of it is technical law-sounding stuff, and my brain goes in knots trying to understand it. All and all, I only comprehend up to the end of the introduction, at which point I just lost track of what he was saying and started zoning out.
Finally, he steps down and the escort comes back on, just as cheery as before.
"Awesome! Don't you just love the new and improved version! So much more drama." She mimes fainting.
No one laughs.
Unperturbed, she continues. "Let's do gentlemen first for a change, okay?" she flashes the crowd a smile, and makes her way over to the boy's bowl.
I stiffen unconsciously.
She plucks a slip of paper out of the bowl.
Please, let it not be me.
In a clear voice, she calls, "Tasi Merkava!"
I freeze. Most of the boys look relieved, or confused as they probably have no idea who I am.
I take a deep breath. I have no choice, but I can do this. If I try hard enough, I can do anything.
I walk up to the podium, completely dwarfing the minute escort.
"Wow!" she exclaims, making me feel even more awkward, "He looks like a great tribute! Now, onto the girls!"
She pulls out a slip. "Aryn Merula!"
District 7: Aryn Merula
Beside me, Flora, my best friend since childhood, gasps. No. No, it can't be me.
But it is.
I put on a brave face for the cameras, and walk confidently up to the stage. I try to look like, well, myself: tough and determined. It's a little hard to look tough, though, when you're nearly a foot shorter than your district partner. I've never seen him around before, but he definitely seems like he'll be a competitor.
Maybe I can strike up an alliance with him…we are district partners, after all. And with him as an ally, I'll have a clear advantage…
I immediately feel guilty. I know it's the Games, but I still shouldn't be plotting to take advantage of my district partner.
I've been so immersed in my thoughts that I don't even notice that I've made it up to the stage. The escort—I think she was too wrapped up in all the excitement to mention her name, because I didn't catch it—announces that we are District 7's tributes, and the crowd gives an obviously fake cheer. Only the Career Districts and the Capitol would actually cheer on two kids going to their deaths.
We shake hands, and I'm surprised by how gentle his handshake is. I expected him to crush my hand with his grip, but it was like he was hardly holding it at all.
Maybe he's not as vicious as I thought.
After being led to the Justice Building, I barely have to wait a minute before my friends come rushing in. Flora is first, she's all over me, sobbing and telling me that I have to come back. I promise her that I will, and soon enough, I'm crying, because I honestly don't know if I can fulfill that promise. I bet that every tribute promises to come back, every tribute tells their parents and their friends and siblings that they'll try their hardest, that they'll survive. And twenty-three promises are broken.
Tears are flowing out of my eyes now, but Flora sniffs one last time and in a choked voice says, "No, don't start crying. That'll make you look weak, remember? Wipe your eyes," she commanded me weakly. I do as she says and she nods in satisfaction, although her eyes are still watery.
She starts to leave, but I stop her. "Flora, please," I ask her. "Can you say goodbye?"
Flora pauses. "I don't want to, because it makes it seem like you aren't coming back."
"But we say goodbye nearly every day," I argue, "and I always see you again."
She gives me a wan smile. "You win. Okay, Aryn. See you around."
"See you later, Flora," I respond, tears threatening to come back. But I remember what Flora said and hold them down.
My family is next. My mother and father are both sobbing. Of course, I expected them to cry—who wouldn't?—but it's unnerving to see your parents cry. Parents are supposed to be the strong ones, the ones who know exactly what to do all the time. The ones who have control over everything.
But no one, except for the Capitol, has control over the Games. Not now, not anymore, not since the rebellion failed.
My brother, Tray, and sister, Camilla, are here as well. I'm glad that Tray wasn't reaped: he's twelve, so he'd have very little luck when it comes to surviving the Games. I have to admit, though: I'd be happier if all of us were safe, even if it meant another person going to their death. It's a selfish thought, and I feel bad thinking it, but everyone would think the same. No one wants to die.
Camilla is carrying her baby, a cute 2 year old. She'd been married and had him when the rebellion was still in charge, when we thought that there would be peace. Now she regrets it: she and her husband wanted a child, but they didn't want to have their child live a life where he had a fair chance of dying every year. I reach a finger out towards him, and he curls his tiny little baby fingers around mine in a strong grip. I smile, and Camilla starts crying.
Before they leave, they all make me promise to come back as well.
A long wait goes by, and I'm worried that the person who I've been waiting for won't show up. But finally, he does, entering red-faced and out of breath.
"Hi, Titus," I say. I can't think of anything else.
"Hi, Aryn. Sorry that I took so long to get here."
I cast my eyes down, slightly embarrassed. "I was afraid that you wouldn't come."
He looks shocked. "Of course I was going to come! Don't think that way, Aryn, it makes me feel like you've given up already."
I stand up, suddenly angry at him. "I am not giving up, and I will never give up. I've already promised Flora and my family that I'll come back, and I don't intend to break that promise."
Titus laughs softly, and I realize that I've fallen for his trap. "Ha, ha," I respond dryly. "Very funny."
"No, it wasn't, was it?" he said as an afterthought. "I suppose that it was actually rather mean."
I punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Yes, yes it was."
"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat, "I took a bit to get here because as soon as the reapings were over, I ran all the way to my house to get you this." He presented me with a small rope bracelet. It's nothing fancy, but you can tell it's handmade by the small mistakes mixed in with the knotting.
I slip it on; it fits perfectly. I nearly start crying again, but choke it back. Look strong. "Thank you so much," I whisper.
He smiles, and his eyes are watering, too. "I was going to give it to you as a present when I asked you to be my girlfriend, but I suppose that this is the only chance I'll get now."
I lean forwards and kiss him. "Does that answer your question?"
Titus grinned. "Actions do speak louder than words."
I laughed, and then laughed some more because of the irony. Titus could always make me laugh, even when I had just been given the equivalent of a death sentence.
Titus looks surprised, then begins laughing along with me.
Finally the Peacekeeper waiting outside the door comes in and tells us that it's time for Titus to leave. He gives me one last, lingering kiss, and we part.
"Bye, Titus," I call after him.
"Goodbye! Good luck! I'll be rooting for you!" he shouts as the door closes.
I shut my eyes and try to remember that last glimpse of Titus. When I'm convinced that I won't forget it, I open my eyes.
I'm ready to face the arena now.
So, how was it? Personally, I think that Tasi's POV went well but Aryn's just sort of slipped the farther I went on. That's the problems with goodbyes: for the most part, they're all the same and it's hard to keep them creative and different, and since Aryn sort of just has a stereotypical family and friends, it was hard and it just sort of flopped. But what do you think? Whose your favorite character so far? We're over halfway through the reapings (finally)! And I think that I've finally gotten motivated! *cheers*
Remember to review, my lurkers~
~Myrtle
