District 1 Reaping: Drake Asher and Melanthe Eve
"He's the one who said he would! I don't care how many peacekeepers I have to go through; if he dares to volunteer, I swear I'm going to-"
"You can't stop him from volunteering, Sonia,"
"You want to bet? No son of mine is going into that horrible arena so those sadistic -"
"What's all the noise down here about?" mumbled the tired voice of Drake Asher.
His mother whipped around to see him standing in the doorway, leaned against the frame of it. "Nothing," She huffed. She looked at him for a moment before making a small cough and moving on, an annoyed tone still held in her voice, "I almost have your suit ready for the reaping,"
Drake looked at his mom with a blank expression on his face, who was already back to making a small breakfast. Having heard the whole rant his mother made, he wasn't in the mood to talk much. He hadn't been planning on volunteering for many reasons, all he had said was "I might volunteer". He hadn't even given a time to them, and the sentence was said in a joking manner. Besides, he still had training to do if he even wanted to think about volunteering, which he really didn't. What bothered him the most about the exchange was that his mom acted like he couldn't win. If he wanted to be in the games, he would be the victor, or come close. But in the Hunger Games, close never cut it.
"Alright," He finally replied.
She sighed, "What do you want on your omelet?"
He shrugged before asking, "What makes you think I'm volunteering?"
She shot him a half-glare before making sure she could get away from the food without burning anything. Once she had everything in check, she held up a slender finger and quickly ran off. She came back to Drake a moment later holding up a slate grey suit, "Because you said you were going to. Now go put this on,"
"I said I might," He retorted, taking the clothes and rolling his eyes once his back was turned. He examined the plain suit and the white undershirt placed neatly underneath and smiled a little as he headed back to his room.
Not bad…
Melanthe Eve looked around at the crowd of people. She couldn't help but give a small, half-smile as she made her way over to the girls' 18 year old section. This was her final year of being a possible tribute, and she was so relieved. Of course, the chance of someone not wanting to have their arrogant face spread across the nation of Panem was quite slim anyway.
Her eye caught a wave as she scanned over everyone in the girls' and boys' 18 year old sections. She gave a little smile and a quick wave to her best friend, Fallon. He replied with a thumbs up and the mouthing of the words, "Good luck,"
She gave a half-hearted laugh and mouthed back, "I won't need it,"
There wasn't much time to say anything else before the candy-apple strode up to the podium. Melanthe chuckled, as she couldn't help herself. The escort this year was absolutely ridiculous! The plump woman had a long-sleeved red dress that clung to her skin and dragged the floor, coating her body in a shining, red gloss. Her short brown streaked, green hair was sticking off the top of her head in a fashion similar to a stem.
After the amusement of the outfit had worn off, the long speech commenced. The apple-resembling escort, named Pomme, proceeded to perk up and skip across the stage once it had ended. Her energetic, but deep (considering her gender) voice, rang throughout the area as she announced, "Now it's time to pick our wonderful tributes!" She made her way to the glass ball and added with a giggle, "Ladies first!"
Melanthe felt herself staring intently, but quickly shook off any anticipation that she may have been feeling. She watched, waiting to see the multitude of pompous girls wanting to volunteer, to shove each other until the little victor strode to the stage.
Pomme read the name to herself. Then, saying slowly in an attempt to create suspense (or give someone a perfect chance to volunteer), "The fabulous girl tribute will beeeeee…"
Silence.
The escort shrugged after the lack of a volunteer and then yelled the name, a name that would relax everyone but, "Melanthe Eve!"
Melanthe, who had found herself holding a breath before the name was called, let the breath go, until hundreds of eyes shifted to her. She looked at them for a second before, like a slap to the face, realized that it was in fact her name that had been shouted for the waiting ears of District 1. She didn't look worried, scared, or horrified, but instead, calm and uncaring that her name had been called by the apple on stage.
She wasn't going to look weak. It wasn't like her to do that. She smoothed her blue dress gently before quietly walking up to the stage, shaking the lady's red hand and keeping a blank face on the entire trip there. Her grey eyes scanned the crowd for Fallon, who was easy to spot. His blue eyes, normally shining with mischief or amusement, held a look of some indescribable emotion. It was like a mixture of many things, one that created a feeling of dread inside of her. Courage? Determination?
Something dawned on her as a thought spread its black wings over her own predicament.
Was he going to volunteer?
Drake watched as the girl who had just been called walked up to the stage. It was strange to see no volunteers, but she looked like she might be able to do okay, considering her attitude about the situation she was in. Her frame, which looked like that of a ballerina, didn't agree with the way she held herself though; like a delicate butterfly, easy to kill, but hard to catch. He hadn't even bothered to remember her name, or listen to it whatsoever for that fact, mainly because it didn't concern him at the slightest.
"Ooooon to the boys now," the fruit on stage giggled as it stuck its chubby fingers into the glass ball. "What a promising name!" She said, looking at the slip of paper. She waited, her face holding a large grin.
Silence.
Drake raised an eyebrow at this odd change of events. Neither gender had a single volunteer, whereas other years, fights had broken out over the dangerous position of 'Career Tribute'. Why? Drake could never figure out. He looked at the girl again, noticing a change in moods. She looked relieved. It wasn't hard to guess that she was fearful in her boyfriend or sibling volunteering. He had nothing more to think about as he leaned back and waited for the escort to finish.
Pomme sighed and moved on, realizing that just nobody was going to volunteer this year. Of course, she had to look good on TV (which wasn't possible in that ridiculous outfit, but must be tried), so she changed back to the typical escort mood and read, "Drake Asher!"
Drake instantly, without missing a heartbeat, looked over to his mother, who was in hysteria, shouting and flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to reach the apple escort that had just read his name, possibly in an attempt to rip her apart for deciding her son's fate. "Let me go!" She hollered, finally being subdued by two peacekeepers and Drake's father.
Drake sighed, this was a complete disaster. If he was going to have to be a tribute, this would be a stain on his reputation already, with his mom going berserk on the frantic peacekeepers, that is. He smiled to his mother slightly, letting her know 'Hey, it's cool, I'll be back," before beginning the walk up on stage. Once he arrived, he held down the incredibly strong urge to knock the annoying escort over and watch as the red dress kept her there in a humorous display.
He shook the girl tribute's hand awkwardly as she gave him a cold look with her grey eyes. He didn't try to smile back, because frankly, he didn't care.
She'd die anyway, so what was the point?
Melanthe shook his hand, hating him already. He didn't even try to be polite; he just stood there staring at her with polar blue eyes that looked like he thought she was the coldest person in Panem, which in her book, she wasn't close to at all. She let go of his hand, not giving a smile to him, even for the cameras, and turning to look at the crowd of people.
Pomme smiled as she grabbed both of their arms and swung them into the air, holding them up high as if they had already won, "Let's give it up for District 1's fabulous tributes!"
Oh no ma'am, give it up for this year's Hunger Games victor,
Melanthe let a little grin spread across her face as she thought of the last word:
Me.
Long but Important A/N
Oh My God, you guys don't know how accomplished I feel right now! Finally, the first reaping chapter, and possibly the longest thing I have ever written, is done. Now, I don't know what you guys think about long vs. short chapters, but if you don't like long ones, please don't complain about it. (The word 'complain' is much different than giving an opinion, by the way) This took a lot of seriously hard work and thinking to do, and I don't like it when people have to say something about the length of a chapter when the content should be more important.
Also, I do LOVE constructive criticism, but if you have a… err… "strong" way of putting things, I'd prefer it if you could hold those parts of your review back.Of course, if you're not like that, please tell me what you did/didn't like, so that I may improve in the future chapters to come. Also, to the wonderful creators of these wonderful tributes, your opinion means the world to me right now. I don't want to be writing your characters wrong, so I need to know NOW if I've messed up/ altered your character to where you dislike it.
So basically, leave me some reviews! I hope you enjoyed it, as there will be more to come.