I've got to apologize for the late first reapings, I wanted to figure out POVs and some initial plotlines, and then I was sick for a bit, but here you go! Districts Four (with Viera Kinley from jakey121 and Tiernan Costello from DA Member Hogwarts) and Seven (with Maxim Harth from Foxface5 and Braelin Spalding from District11-Olive).
I'm just getting back into the swing of things (again), so enjoy my first reaping chapter in like, a year!
DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE: VIERA KINLEY
"Mom, Dad, I'm headed down to the Justice Building to try and get a tolerable spot for the Reaping," I announce as I stride through our modest kitchen, past both my parents who sit at the worn table. My mother gives me a warning look as I approach the door.
"Did you eat any breakfast?" She stands up and gently blocks my path
I sigh unhappily. "No, not today. Please, Mom, I'm anxious, and I have good reason to be. Just let me go today, okay?" I know it'll work- she encouraged me to train for years and has always said how proud she would be if I won.
She gives me a conflicted smile. "Still planning on volunteering, dear?" I nod proudly in response. "All right, I can see where you're coming from, but I still wish you'd take something. It's hot out today, don't want you getting faint in that crowded town square!" She gives me a swift kiss on the cheek before sitting back down. I turn back towards the door, but I don't get four steps ahead before my father raises his voice.
"Viera, dear." He beckons me over with a wave of his hand. I pivot on my heel and give him a quick hug before finally managing to exit our house. I'll see him after I volunteer as well, we can say goodbye then. Hopefully it won't be the last time we speak- I'm well trained but who knows who I could be facing in the arena?
As I stride out into the street, the breeze tousles my straight blonde hair and the salty tinge in the air from the ocean refreshes me. I turn the corner and smooth my hair back into place- appearance may not be my greatest issue, but today of all days, everything has to be perfect. I've even put on one of my mother's best summer dresses to look my best. Dresses aren't the best thing to run in, though, I should have considered that. Should I go back and change? I don't want to be outrun by some unprepared upstart at the last second! I should go back.
The dress doesn't matter, calm down, Viera. It's the shoes, it's all in the shoes I'm wearing, and my training shoes are sleek enough to not look stupid with the pale purple dress. I'll be fine. I lift my chin and head towards the Justice Building. It's time to get this over with and move forward in life. I can't let silly things like clothes mess up my morning, level-headedness is an absolute requirement today.
"Hey, Viera!" My head snaps to the side almost automatically, and I see two boys standing at the corner of the street a few meters away.
"Good morning," I greet them civilly. Do I even know them? They're sort of familiar, they probably train at the same time as me occasionally.
"I don't think I've ever seen you all dolled up like that," one of them smirks as he looks me up and down. I repress a shudder at his behavior. Maintain the regality, stay calm, stay calm. "Do you expect boys to dress as well as you if they want a chance?"
I can't hold back a grimace. "After that comment I don't expect much out of you at all."
He steps back, dumbfounded, but I'm not through with their immaturity yet. His friend saunters forward. "Sorry about him, Viera, he's pretty much an idiot. Do you want to maybe spend a bit of time with me after the Reaping?" Well, at least he's direct and mature about it. Possibly worth trying. "You dress well, but of course the real question is, do you undre-"
"Get lost." I roll my eyes and keep walking. No one gets the fact that maturity is what matters. Stupid pickup lines or half-disguised sex jokes won't get you anywhere except homeless. If you don't take life seriously you're asking to be left behind.
I hear the throng of people before I see them, and it's only a short jog to join them. The Justice Building is already swarming with Peacekeepers and the square before it is milling with anxious teenagers. Some of the twelve and thirteen year olds have red-rimmed eyes or snotty noses like they've already cried about it today. Grow up, there are volunteers. Or even better, train like us so you don't have to be so scared for your lives. That's the whole reason One, Two, and Four are so far ahead of the others- we rejected fear much faster than the others and started training.
I sign in quickly, barely paying attention to the Peacekeeper man who pricks my finger. I'm already looking for people in my age group to stand with, and there are only a few of those whom I can tolerate. None of the others have grown up yet. We're eighteen, shouldn't it be more common to act your age by now?
I see Elin near the center of our section and quickly move over to her. It's difficult to resist the urge to lift my skirt a little higher and run, but modesty prevails. Can't have anyone get the idea that I'm any less poised and educated as I show normally.
"Elin!"
She whirls around, pieces of her short blonde hair whipping into her gleeful eyes. "Viera!" A grin lights up her face and she squeezes me in a tight hug.
"Okay, okay, we're good, let me go!" I say, laughing through my wheezes.
"Today's the day then?" she says breathlessly, "Are you ready? Do your parents know?"
"Yeah, I'm ready," I reply, motioning down to my shoes, "and my parents have known for a long time now, calm down!"
"This is so tense, I've trained long-range with you for years and now you're going to bigger places! I never dreamed at first, not when I met you that one time."
My smile falters momentarily at the memory of the time Elin first talked to me, when she stood up against a more popular girl picking on me for not wanting to train all the time. She's dead now- that was Camilla Thyra, she's been dead for three years now. Sigh. Just because my parents didn't force me into all the rigorous training doesn't mean I didn't want to do it- look, here I am, the best prospective Victor we have!
Our escort, Hortia, steps up to the stage. "At last," I hiss to Elin, "she's gotten some color variation in those hideous mauve tattoos."
"Yeah, they're still hard on the eyes though. Look at that magenta on her right arm!" We continue with the snide comments all through the Treaty of Treason, but on my part it's more to relieve stress than to make fun of Hortia.
"And first, to the girls!" She finally cries. A lump swells in my throat momentarily. I wanted to wait until she asked for volunteers, but I can't under all this self-imposed pressure. I don't even hear the name called out, I'm too busy rehearsing the words in my head.
"I volunteer as tribute!"
DISTRICT FOUR MALE: TIERNAN COSTELLO
"I heard a buncha guys were plannin' to volunteer this year!" One of the two illiterates standing right in front of me blurts out to his equally moronic friend.
"They gotta! Four hasn't gotten a good Victor in ages, we need somebody to show 'em how it's done!"
Their uneducated dialogue grates on my ears in the same manner of seagulls' cries. I can't help but lean forward and glare at both of their profiles- one has the ugliest squashed nose, ugh- and then open my own mouth. "Both of you sound completely stupid, the world would be a better place if you never spoke again."
One of them backs away and keeps his head down, but the other whirls around aggressively. "What did you just call me?"
"Stupid. Don't you have ears?"
He grits his teeth and glares at me, brandishing a fist. "What are you planning to do with that, break your knuckles on my chest?"
"You're not that strong. You're only in the sixteen-year-old section!"
"Yeah, but I've trained for years and years. I don't think you could handle this. Neither could the older ones here, actually." I raise my chin.
He laughs bitterly. "Oh look, another all self-important rich boy. You think you're so great? Volunteer. We'd be just fine if you died, you know. The world would be better off without you."
When I do volunteer, this imbecile had better not think he was the inspiration behind my act. He'd never get that sort of credit. Besides, I've had my mind made up ever since I heard my mother talking to my trainer about me and the man said I'd never succeed. I'll show them, they don't know me. The only one who would have supported me was Father. He was the only one who ever knew me. I may only be sixteen, but what does that matter? This is my year and no one is going to take that away from me. I'm better than all of them!
"Speechless, are you, Mr. Know-it-all?" Crap, I've been silent too long against this lower-class boy's retorts.
"Not speechless, just trying to decide if it was worth my time to rise to your pitiful taunts. You're the same as my mother, always babbling about how I should have to listen to you. I'll give you the same advice I give her- learn your place and stay there!"
He leers at me for a moment and I can see the gears in his head turning, looking for a good comeback, but the Capitol escort steps on stage before he can come up with a response worth even his meager time.
"Welcome, welcome, District Four! Such a lovely day for the annual Reaping Ceremony!"
Lovely day, and she's spoiling it with her fifty shades of purple in tattoos. They swirl all over her chunky body in dizzying spirals… utterly disgusting. I try and keep down my nausea during her bouncy rendition of the Treaty of Treason, but my interest in the onstage events perks back up when she approaches the girls' Reaping Bowl. Save the best for last, I suppose. Girls never show as much promise in the Reapings.
"Shoalle Hensen!"
The girl doesn't even step forward before another voice rings out. "I volunteer as tribute!" It's an eighteen-year-old, long blond hair and dress streaming behind her as she dashes up to the stage. She's pretty enough, but does she have skills? Somehow, I doubt it. Hortia seems impressed as the girl gives her name- Viera Kinley. Hmph.
"And now for the boys!" I try to imperceptibly raise my heels and prepare myself for the rush to come. "Kysander Ivory!"
There's a collective pause from the eighteen-year-olds, half of the seventeens, and me, and the Kysander boy even takes a tentative step from the fifteen-year-old area before the first volunteer speaks up.
They're not taking my year. While they all holler their intent to volunteer before taking a single step- slaves to procedure, every last one- I run and shout at the same time, barreling past many an angry or confused young man. The disappointment on their faces makes me smile. I can watch them hate me as I stand onstage…
"Oof!" Someone trips me and I go sprawling on the cobblestones. The eighteens start surging forward but I'm not about to let them stop me. About half go for the stairs at the side, but the others have the same idea as me and swarm right up the front of the stage. I'm right there with them, and we're fighting like dogs. Fists collide with my sides and face, one cracking against my jaw and making my head reel. I land a good one myself, in the gut of a burly redhead. "Get off my stage!" I holler, fighting the last few steps to the proffered microphone.
Surrounded by clashing, groaning, angry teenage boys, I smirk out at the cameras and the rest of the district.
"I'm Tiernan Costello, age 16, and I'm doing this for three people- me, myself, and I."
I hand back the microphone to Hortia and turn to shake hands with Viera. She's already scowling at me- if that means she's afraid or discouraged, good. If I've just made my first enemy somehow- she's got no reason to dislike me, really, she's probably just a spoiled brat- then it'll be the worse for her.
I always win. And the others always lose.
DISTRICT SEVEN MALE: MAXIM HARTH
The clouds cover the sky, an unbroken blanket of melancholy and mist. I gaze up at the dark gray sky with my chin propped up on my hands on the windowsill. It's one of the most peaceful places in my whole house. Too bad I can't stand weather like this, the dreariness affects everyone's mood and sours the day more than the events already will.
Reaping day. This is my halfway mark.
I want to be afraid about it, but what would everyone else think about that? I'm supposed to be tough like my brothers, like all the guys, I can't go into hysterics however relieving it would be.
It's so much worse when there's real stress.
"Maxim, you ready? We've got to head out early today, put on a good appearance for the district!" That would be Ashton. I tear myself away from the window- and immediately hit my forehead on the edge of my bed. After a bit of groaning and stumbling blindly around my room, I bound across the house towards the sound of his voice, and he tousles my hair when I skid to a stop beside him.
"Good to see ya, bro. Tyrion's already pounded it into my head that I need to stick with you today, so let's head out."
"Where's he? It's only his first year out, and he's already so avoidant?"
"Can't show his face, not when there's a group of troublemakers from the east side looking for him. That girl, Talia, she's really mad at him again."
I wince. Tyrion's gotten into enough of a mess with the Girl Queen of the slums already, someone's going to get hurt soon if he has another run-in with her. "But on Reaping Day? None of the others would try something today, would they?" Ashton just shrugs and opens the door for me.
I reluctantly traipse outside into the dreary weather, Ashton sauntering out ahead of me as soon as he's closed the door behind him. It's a quiet walk through our shambly little neighborhood, most of the houses already empty for the Reaping or the inhabitants disliking my two brothers… and by conjunction, me. I haven't been in half as many fights as Ashton, let alone Tyrion. I don't even want to follow in their footsteps.
We're nearing the town square when Ashton hollers out suddenly to a group of older teens. "Aislyn, Chetta, Walker, Rollins!" They turn around and cheer back to him in greeting, and then he's off, running towards them like he never was supposed to stay with me. I jog after him, staying off to the side. They're all seventeen or up, I'm the baby here. Like I always am.
Ashton wraps his arm around one of the girl's waist and she giggles, the two boys both give him some weird sort of handshake. "I see you've got the little brother with you again," one of them says in a low voice. I'm obviously meant to hear it, though, and it stings.
"Ah, he's got to man up soon, might as well let him near us." Well, that stings even more.
"Ashton, can I just go?"
He doesn't even give a sign that he's heard me.
What else is there to do? Keeping my face stoic, I walk away and head towards the security checkpoints. The Peacekeepers scrutinize me with a blank face and take a drop of blood. I wince but it's over fast enough. There's been worse.
"Maxim!"
The one person who ever wants to talk to me and not one of my brothers or parents. Laurel. I spin around happily, grinning as the girl almost tackles me in a hug. I get a faceful of her long dark hair but even that isn't worse than the weather.
"You're here away from both your brothers?" She gives me a curious look to go along with the question.
"Ashton ditched me for some of his friends."
She purses her lips. "They shouldn't do that. You're your own person, they need to recognize that."
"That doesn't matter to their lives, though. It only matters to you."
"And you, come on! Take some independence!"
"I'll only take what I can afford, Laurel!" Our voices have raised enough to garner some attention from nearby teens. I quiet down, and Laurel hugs me again.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset," she apologizes needlessly. She has good points… she just doesn't live with Tyrion and Ashton.
"It's fine, I'm fine, we're good." I smile as convincingly as I can. I don't want to make Laurel upset, she's basically the only person around whom I can have emotions.
She's obviously not swayed, but she lets it drop. "Fine, so how are you?" Throughout our conversation, I keep glancing back to the check-in stations for Ashton and his friends.
"Okay, Maxim, we should probably go to our separate sections. See you after, okay?"
"If I can get to you without Ashton teasing me about not being man enough, then sure. Bye, Laurel." Wistfully, I watch her walk over to the girls' section. I sigh and trudge to the other fifteen year old boys, finding a safe place on the edge of the crowd and hoping that Ashton makes it in before the Treaty of Treason starts. As Thunder, our explosive escort, begins to bombard our ears with the Treaty, I grown inwardly. He's probably nowhere around.
"Psst… Maxim! Max!" I look around reflexively at the sound of my name, catching a glimpse of Ashton in the midst of his own age group. Giving him a short nod, I try to ignore him and pay attention to Thunder, but he keeps trying to catch my attention for some unfathomable reason, since he pretended I didn't exist just half an hour ago, but whatever.
"AND NOW FOR THE GIRLS!" Thunder shouts, snatching a slip out of the crystal bowl. "BRAELIN SPALDING!"
A girl with curly blonde hair steps up, visibly shaking and obviously terrified out of her mind. By the time she forces herself up to the stage, she's fully sobbing. Of course she is, she's just been chosen for the Games! I'd probably feel like that if I were chosen… but I couldn't show it. That would be improper.
"AND THE BOYS- MAXIM HARTH!"
The irony is so overwhelming I can't find it in me to laugh. Everyone starts to turn and look for the poor sap who's going to die now, and I want to curl up and die.
One step forward, and they're all looking at me. I'm so vulnerable, with so much more attention than I've ever wanted… it makes me mad. I want to scream and cry and sob like the girl, but I push it down and let the anger fuel me instead. It's a long walk to the platform, long and terrifying.
I stand in front of my district as they all watch me, and all of us, with the exception of Braelin, seem totally emotionless.
I want to cry.
DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE: BRAELIN SPALDING
It's almost hard to look at Maxim through my tears, but he's so angry and there are tears beginning to build up behind his glasses, but as he turns towards me he blinks them away furiously. I wish I was strong enough, brave enough to do the same. They just keep flowing down my cheeks and I can't even find the strength to be ashamed.
I hold out a tentative hand for him to shake. He hesitates, biting his lip before grabbing it and squeezing briefly. He's scowling now that he doesn't have to face the cameras. Thunder begins the ending spiel behind us, and Maxim takes the opportunity to steal a few words. "This is crap. Total crap."
I can hardly nod, let alone speak. Let him get angry as he will, don't interfere. I can't do anything to make it better; I'm in shock myself.
Thunder grabs us each by a shoulder and spins us around, guiding the newest pair of tributes into the Justice Building. Maxim stiffens under his hand, but I just go along with it. My angry fellow citizen is going to get us both in trouble, while I can hardly shuffle along under my own power.
I'm deposited in an artfully decorated visiting room, and the only thought that comes to my mind is that these are the rooms where the funerals of the rich take place and the only reason it's ironic to me right now is because I'm not rich.
"Visitors will arrive shortly, please wait," a lady Peacekeeper instructs me from the doors. I blankly watch her leave the room. I raise a shaky hand to my face to wipe the wetness from beneath my eyes, and I have hardly the effort to complete that task. Who knew it was possible to be so scared? I didn't. It's an all-consuming pit of black terror and an awful feeling of being lost and never found.
I hope Jude walks through that door. He's the only one I can trust right now to make things better, I know it.
The door creaks; my heart stops. But my mom and dad walk through instead, my brother not with them. Soon, I tell myself, he'll be here soon.
"Braelin!" Mom cries, flying across the room and dragging me down on the squashy couch beside her. "Braelin, baby, I-" she breaks off, unable to say any more. Sounds a little familiar, actually, but I just dissolve into sobs again and bury my face in her shoulder. Soon I feel Dad on my other side, putting his arms around both of us protectively.
I haven't seen them so in agreement on something in my whole life. I almost feel selfish that it's this situation that's brought them together. I'm not worth this much, they still have Jude, this fuss isn't necessary. But it's nice, there's no denying that.
"Braelin, we're shell shocked. That this could have happened to our baby girl…" Even Dad can't say more than that, and I'm content to be cuddled there for another minute or two, finding solace in their arms like I haven't felt since my toddler days. I can concentrate on slowing my breathing, but I end up with the hiccups from crying so much already.
Why can't I feel something other than numb fear? Why can't I feel brave at all? Or even upset, like Maxim?
I want privacy now, but I can't possibly tell that to Mom and Dad. I can't ask them to leave me alone when it's probably the… the… I have to admit it to myself sometime or other, the last time they'll ever see me alive. Or rather, the last time I'll ever see them since they'll be watching me for the next week.
I take a deep breath, knowing that their time must be about up, and try and give each of them the tightest hug I can manage. Dad smiles weakly, but Mom only manages a watery sob and a muffled "I love you."
"I love you too!" I squeak, my voice shrilling on the last word. They're gone, ushered out by the Peacekeepers, and all of a sudden I regret wanting privacy. I want my family!
I don't even make it off the couch before the door is flung open, revealing the one visitor I really needed to see- my brother Jude. He runs at me and sweeps me off the couch in what could have been a bone-crushing hug. But he's too gentle, too careful to hurt me even on accident.
"Brae, you're going to be all right, okay? Stop crying. For me, please?" It's reminiscent of the times he comforted me when our parents were arguing in the other room. Their hushed tones didn't even make it any easier to bear, but Jude did. He's always able to do that.
"Jude, how am I going to manage?" I ask in a wavery voice, squeaking and sniffling and hiccupping and trying to hold it together.
"Braelin, you're quiet but you've managed in a hard life all these years. You can do it, I promise. You're my sister. You have to."
"I don't want to change, though! I've seen it every year! No matter what you do in there, you end up dead. You come out empty whether it's on your own feet or in a pine box!" All the fears that my parents wouldn't hear come spilling out to Jude.
"Braelin, don't think about that. You can't let that get to you. Those thoughts are dangerous."
My voice is a whisper. "But what if that's all true?"
"Make your own version, then. Don't let it change you. That's the way you've gone through life for years now, being your own little anchor of quiet determination and letting the people around you ebb and flow as they please." Is that how Jude really sees me? I just do what others tell me to, try to avoid conflict. How can I avoid conflict in a match to the death?
"It's so hard…"
"I know, sis, I know. It's gonna be hard. But our lives have been hard and you've lived that for sixteen years, right?" He comfortingly puts his hands on my shoulders. "You're going to have to beat your own path, though."
"Jude, I can't, I'm hopeless at doing things for me and me alone!"
"You'll have to. And you can do it, right? I know you can."
I can believe what my brother says, right? Who can I trust if not him? I bite my lip. "I'll do it, Jude. For us."
He smiles softly and then reaches into the back pocket of his pants. "A token?" I nod, and he hands me one of his giant work gloves.
"It's all I've got, but-"
I hug him tight. "That'll do, Jude."
The first four tributes! XD Four more next chapter, ooo, what districts will they be? I should have a better schedule from now on, by the way :)
GeorgeMellark6 has asked for me to announce that they have an open SYOT, if anyone would like to submit!
Questions:
What do you think of these two districts? These four tributes?
Which of these four is your favorite?
And, of course, simply tell me what you thought!