So, not long before the film coming out now! I might be really sad, and take my district pass thing to the cinema. CHALLENGE: Guess what District I'm in. Tom already knows. :P
ALSO I WENT TO THE EUROPEAN PREMIERE IN LONDON AND IT WAS AMAZING :D
The Seal of Panem flashes across the screen majestically, and fades in to reveal the garish studio in which Caesar Flickerman, Claudius Templesmith and the Head Gamemaker, Caspar Ratchford, are sat on luxurious couches and drinking from small glasses of what can only be alcohol. Caesar wears his golden suit, identical to that of which he wore to interview the tributes, only this time his face is stencilled with intricate, bright orange swirled patterns that is a recently adopted fashion of the Capitol. Templesmith, the legendary announcer of the Games, looks rather intoxicated from the drink he is grasping in his fist, and his eyes are lolling around the studio slowly with a fixated grin on his face. Caspar Ratchford, the new Gamemaker that has promised, just like every other man in his position, to bring 'surprise and shocking twists this year', has done away with the long, scarlet robes the Gamemakers wear, and is donning a trim, deep blue suit with a sapphire bejewelled lapel and matching encrusted undershirt.
Flickerman turns to look into the camera, flashing his signature grin.
"The first night of the Games has begun, with eleven sacrifices made. It's been an eventful day, no doubt! Caspar, what do you think?" He turns to face the Gamemaker, taking a sip from his glass.
"Well Caesar," Ratchford replies, his Capitol accent filled with tension and stress, despite his serene expression. "I think the Bloodbath was quite the interesting spectacle." He nods and leans back in his seat, delicately taking a sip of the liquid in his glass.
"Indeed!" Caesar bursts, "I never thought I'd see the day when a District Six would injure one of the Career tributes!"
"To be fair," Claudius Templesmith slurs, his voice sounding just as powerful as ever despite his condition, "that District Four girl didn't exactly seem like the most ferocious of the bunch." He hiccups and takes another glug of his drink.
"I wouldn't doubt her ferocity," Caspar replies, "She could easily take down this new ally of hers."
"Ah, yes!" Caesar grins. "I was just getting around to that! The boy from Three... ah... what's his name again?" The audience, hidden behind the cameras, cackle. Nobody remembers his name because he was the boy who had the terrible audition.
"Whatever his name is," Templesmith replies, "He's doomed allying with a Career." He chuckles to himself and looks to Caspar for his reaction. "Well, Caspar? Is he doomed?"
To the audience, this is an exciting question, as it could give clues as to what the Gamemakers have in store for this somewhat unlikeable young man. The breaths of hundreds of spectators are sucked in, in anticipation.
"Hmm." Is all Ratchford replies. The crowd mutters to themselves.
Caesar tries to rein back the conversation.
"There were many spectacular deaths today, were they not?" He looks towards the screen behind them, replaying various death sequences that proved interesting in the Capitol's eyes.
The girl from Seven's demise plays first. The boy from Four rams a trident into her chest, but she hangs on, despite the blood oozing from her chest and mouth. She looks up into the eyes of her attacker, and shakes the trident's handle erratically, trying to shake him away from his weapon so that it is taken with her when she dies. But she doesn't realise that, when she is gone from the world and the boy regains his balance, she isn't collected. Because, hey, this is the Bloodbath and there is more killing to be done. The Career yanks his weapon from her body and sprints away, leaving her lying in the marshes.
Then, the clip of the girl from Twelve plays. She tries to run from the boy from Two, picking up a knife as she goes. He soon is on her tail and grabs her legs, pulling her to the floor with a loud thud. She screams wildly and claws at him with her knife and nails, but he dodges every swipe and wrenches the weapon from her hands with a smug grin. Two minutes later, she's splayed across the grassy floor with that very knife protruding from her heart.
"So, currently, we have 14 tributes in the arena." Flickerman states to the audience. "There are three allegiances so far, with the Careers making the largest with their five members. Do you think there will be any more members disbanding? Or any more allegiances made?" He turns to his guests. Claudius snorts and mumbles some incoherent answer, taking the last swig of his beverage. Caspar sits up a little in his seat an addresses the audience.
"I think that allies will be created and lost. You'll have to keep watching to see just how that happens." He smiles slightly and takes a drink.
Caesar turns to the camera.
"Well, citizens, that's all for this episode of the Hunger Games – Review! Tune in tomorrow for more interesting clips and interviews with Gamemakers, stylists and more! May the odds be ever in your favour!"
The seal of Panem flashes again, and the screen fades to black.
Xyris's P.O.V
Darkness is beginning to settle, and I must find a shelter, and fast.
Ever since running into this forest, I've been trying to get as far from the Cornucopia as possible. I haven't even checked my survival kit yet, I just hope I have some food or water in it so I don't have to hunt at night.
I trudge through the bracken on the floor, my eyes darting about and trying to calculate somewhere out of sight. A dull ache is beginning to form in the centre of my feet, and I can feel the heaviness of my eyelids caused from a day of stress. I think back to earlier on in the day, when the cannons fired to signal the end of the bloodbath, and I nearly fell over in shock. That is nothing compared to the tension I feel now in my temple
I shuffle into a clearing, and I instinctively stop and look around meticulously for predators or tributes. When I'm sure to myself that nobody is around, I scour the area for a place to hide.
I notice a large tree that seems to loom tallest of the bunch that surrounds it. Its base is huge, and sits on one of the roots that extend up from the ground. I notice that the underside of the tree, the bit that should have roots that dig into the ground, is empty, and dug out underneath. Curious, I look through the foliage, expecting some kind of animal to jump out and attack me. But to my surprise, and excitement, I see that it is empty, and looks sturdy enough not to crush a person who lay underneath. And to add to my luck, the opening to the underside is concealed to tributes by bushes, so I could lie under there for the night and not be found.
I nearly squeal in happiness, and awkwardly shuffle, lying on my stomach, underneath the tree. The base of the tree is large, so I won't need to curl up, and also lets in enough of the dimming light for me to see my backpack. I unzip the kit as quiet as I can, and look at the contents.
I have a small blanket, rolled up inside the bag, and a bottle that is full to the brim with cool, almost irresistible water. A packet of crackers and biscuits, and a torch lay at the bottom of the bag, as well as a penknife and a small bottle of what appears to be iodine. I bring out the torch and switch it on, before being blinded by the strong light that filters out. I squint, and hastily press the 'off' button; hoping that no one saw my light and will come looking for me.
And that is when I hear the infuriatingly upbeat tune that signals the broadcasting of the dead for today. I look up through the bushes, my fingers crossed in hope of not seeing Zeph's face in the clouds. It's funny really, I hadn't even thought about my fellow tribute since we launched this morning, and now I feel almost sick at the thought of him being dead.
Luckily for us, however, the first tribute to be named is from Five, and I sigh in relief. But that means that all of the Careers are still out there, which poses a threat. I watch the images of tributes flash by, and I'm glad I didn't pay attention to them in the interviews or training, or it would be even harder for me to deal with. Even imagining Zeph, who I barely spoke to before the Games and barely spoke to during as well, as a dead tribute makes my stomach churn in guilt.
It is as the seal of Panem flashes away, that I realise that none of the cameras will be able to see me from my little hidey-hole. Meaning I get a little bit of time to myself. I grin as I snuggle into my blanket, and I let my mind wander somewhat. Of course, my mind wanders to the place I didn't want it to roam, back home, and the smile slowly erases itself from my face. I think about my mother, who will surely have to be held back by my father, if not Peacekeepers, whilst watching the large screen they use to project this whole ordeal to Three. My parents must have been beside themselves during the bloodbath, as the way the Capitol plays it to each district is different, they edit the clips to make it seem like their tributes are in trouble. As in, although I had no problems escaping into the forest, they probably cut a clip of me running to a clip of a Career running, making it look like they are chasing me. Basically, The Capitol puts families through hell just for their enjoyment. There's something terrible about that.
As I drift off, I imagine that I'm in my father's shop, helping him build something ridiculously complicated. The light is shining in rays through the blinds he keeps halfway closed at the window. The smell of plastic and metal, the smell that is home to me, lingers in the air, and the feel of cool metal running through my fingers is as just as cosy to me as a teddy bear. Various images flash through my mind throughout my dreams; my father's smiling face, the hum of a machine whirring to life, the view from my bedroom of the gray, monotonous place I call home, the grins of people from Three welcoming me home-
The dreams twist.
I begin to see Zeph's face everywhere- frowning in his usual fashion, grinning with an evil glint in his eyes, sobbing, crying out in pain. Blood on my hands. I see tributes dying; stabbed, beheaded, cut, beaten. My family sobbing at the coffin that arrives at their door. Screams everywhere.
I wake up with a gasp as the cannon jolts me out of fantasy and brings me into an even harsher reality.
For a moment I am scrambling about, checking myself for wounds, somehow thinking that it was my cannon firing. When the panic is over and I realise that I am, in fact, not dead, my senses return to me and I can hear footsteps. Close.
I peer out from my hiding place, searching for the tribute that nears. Part of my mind hopes that it is Zeph, and that it wasn't his cannon that fired, but another part of me doesn't really want to face him after all the nightmares I'd just endured. About his death and such.
Sure enough, after a few minutes of staying as still as a statue, I see a pair of feet walk past. They look fairly big, a boy's probably but I can't see past the knees. The feet are limping, and I can see blood tricking down the right leg. I almost get up and try to help the tribute, but I stop myself.
This is the Hunger Games, I think to myself. You're not at home. These aren't your friends. They will kill you.
An hour or so later, and I'm sat beside a burned-out fire, not mine but of a tribute long since gone, and tucking into a few crackers from my survival kit. Thirst is starting to get the better of me, and my water bottle is half empty now. I chuckle slightly to myself, remembering the old phrase my mother used to say. 'Is it half empty, or half full?' Definitely half empty.
I look up to the sky, and see the Sun directly over my head, signalling that it is mid day. It is warm, and the air is annoyingly humid, causing me to remove my jacket and tie it around my waist like people from Three do in summer. Only it's not summer. It's autumn, so the air should be cool, even cold depending on where the arena has been built this year. And that's when I realise that this stupid humidity has been created by the Gamemakers, and I feel like screaming because it is so irritating.
I'd carefully planned my way through the forest prior, making sure I could find my way back to the tree as it is a good place to hide out. However, I'd also been careful to cover my tracks so that no Careers were on my heels, so getting back should be a feat in itself. I'd initially intended to search the arena for food or drink, but soon realised that it was impossible as proved by my ludicrous attempt to catch a wild goose with no weapon or snare device. I'd given up early, choosing just to scout the area to see if there were any camps nearby, and then I'd found this little beauty. A charred pile of ash from a fire, and a medic kit that a tribute must have forgotten or discarded. Of course, being in the Games, I first checked for any traps or snares set to kill me, but found none. So I scampered over to the ashy remains of the fire, stuffed the kit in my bag, and sat on the floor to eat as I am now.
As far as the Games go, I consider myself lucky. I escaped the bloodbath no problem, even picking up a decent kit along the way. I found an excellent spot to sleep that stops me being detected, and to top it off, I found a medic's kit.
I smile to myself slightly as I angle my face up to the sky, where the cameras will no doubt be zooming in on me. I make a small promise to myself that, no matter what happens in this arena, I will try to smile, so that my mother will think that I am happy. I know my father will catch on to my true feelings, he always has done, but I don't let it bother me because I prefer it that way. He always knows when I am upset, and I always know when he needs help in his workshop. Everyone says it is obvious we are father and daughter.
I am snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of twigs snapping, somewhere close. I freeze on my seat, with one thought running through my head.
Please be Zeph.
I add up the odds in my head, realising it probably won't be my ally. There are twelve other people out there who certainly aren't Zeph. They're out for my blood.
And suddenly, I am not irritated by the heat anymore, and I don't have thoughts of home running through my head. A new, strange version of Xyris Quentin is beginning to poise herself on the edge of her seat, slowly pulling her backpack over her head, eyes trained on the area of foliage where the sound came from with intense focus. Feet planted on the floor firmly. Leg muscles twitching in tension, ready to run at any second.
And then, the District Six boy bursts through the trees, with a knife poised to throw, and all the bravery within me melts away, leaving me stuck in a half-crouched position in pure shock and terror. My hands clasp onto the straps of my kit tightly, as if doing that will somehow help me.
I close my eyes, not wanting to see the knife that will fly at my head any second, and all the thoughts of home come flooding back into my mind.
But instead of feeling pain and dying, I hear a loud cracking noise, a cry of pain and a thud on the floor. My eyes fly open, my body already turning to run from the tribute that had killed him and will kill me next. But something catches my eye as my head whips around. A glint of light, sunshine hitting glass. I turn around, meeting those eyes I never wanted to stare into.
Zeph smiles sheepishly, a blood-splattered hammer in his hands.