104 Reviews; you guys are awesome. Don't fight over who's crazier (because I'll win by a landslide) but we're all crazy here. Aren't we?
4 people have voted and all 8 votes were different. I like that; it means that I've managed to make the tributes likeable in different ways.
By the way: no one answered; chariots by rookie stylist Regan Vale or by the tributes?
Kaya Lambert: (District 7)
I can remember the first time I met Sean at the Liam's logging site.
He seemed quiet and uncomfortable talking to people as he stood awkwardly across from me, waiting for me to tell him what to do.
I could tell he was pathetic with an axe as soon as we started cutting the tree and I thought he was useless from when I first saw him with one. What's the point in being in District 7 if you can't use an axe?
A few hours in he started complaining about his hand and grunting every time he swung his axe. Finally I got sick of him and asked, "What's wrong, has baby got a splinter?"
Sean nodded and showed me as he stepped out from behind the enormous red cedar.
There was blood streaming down his arm from a foot long splinter imbedded the whole way up his arm. I was amazed that he'd managed to stop himself from complaining for so long, he just kept cutting.
That was the first time I had any respect for Sean Dorsin and he's never lost it since, he's always been the nice guy, willing to do whatever he can to keep people happy no matter what it costs him.
I can't kill the guy. I can't be the one to kill him but I also can't watch him die in front of me.
Which means that I have to ignore him, for his own sake.
I have to leave him in the care of someone else and let him find his own way to winning. At the same time, I can't bear the thought of losing, of never seeing Zoe and Alana again, but I can't kill him with my own hands.
If I go home with Sean's blood on my hands, I'll never forgive myself.
I might never forgive myself if he dies because I wasn't his ally; but I'd rather that than the certainty of him dying because I couldn't save him. I just can't be directly responsible for the sweetest guy I've ever met.
"So… Kaya… sorry you got Reaped. I would volunteer for you if I could but… I couldn't…" Sean starts nervously. I know that he isn't normally a conversation starter so it must be important to him to say it to me.
"Don't, Sean. I can't be your ally in the arena so please, don't make it harder for me…" I turn away but that doesn't mean I don't know the slapped puppy expression I know he gets whenever someone turns him away.
"Oh… okay…" he replies weakly.
It's as I hear that simple phrase that I think the Games kill the first part of me inside.
Blaze Valentine: (District 8)
The cameras love me as I get onto the train.
I could even name a couple from being used as a model for some of the designs that come out of the District 8 factories. Karlas and Siam have been around forever and give me the thumbs up as I grin at the camera and flex my muscles a bit while Piper smiles dazzlingly at the cameras beside me.
The Capitol will be calling for the District 8 tributes this year; the model and the girl with a sincere smile.
"Hey, you're a real natural with the cameras. Where'd you learn?" I ask. A little harmless flirting can't hurt while fishing for allies. Dria's still the one in my heart, no matter how much I might like a good flirt once in a while.
"Oh, I just enjoy a good smile every now and then. As they say, a smile doesn't cost anything!" she replies brightly.
Our escort, who appears determined to break through the personal space barrier and maintain creepy contact at all times, agrees, vigorously nodding his head, "Oh yes, I've always said that but no one ever listens to me unlike you, dear girl!"
He touches her arm but instead of letting go like a normal person, he holds on and beams at her.
Her eyes flash slightly as she glances at the sweaty appendage before she smiles again, this time with slightly more difficulty, and replies, "Why thank you, it's nice to know we'll get along great!"
Our escort dashes out of the room to do something and suddenly Piper's features relax and she leans against the couch with a bored expression, picking her nails.
When the sound of his approaching footsteps becomes apparent she sits back up and smiles at the incoming escort as he places a disc into the television screen.
"Let's all watch the Reapings and see what we can find with the other tributes!" he bounces to the chair as the movie starts.
"Sure, that'll be interesting," Piper agrees, once again with the strange gleam in her eyes.
District 1: Hot and dude.
District 2: Creepy and young and creepy and young dude.
District 3: Too young and slightly crazy-looking and aw cute kid.
District 4: Not bad and dude.
District 5: Not bad and young-looking volunteer kid.
District 6: Not bad and really tall guy.
District 7: Hot and dude.
District 8: Us!
District 9: Not bad and dude.
District 10: Hot and dude.
District 11: Not bad and dude.
District 12: Hot and dude.
"Could you do me a favour and get me that drink?" I ask, pointing towards the tray of drinks next to her elbow.
"Sure, but you'll owe me a favour in return," she smiles as she passes across the drinks. She smiles a lot. It's getting a bit weird but hey, I'd rather happy than depressed in an ally.
"What kind of favour?"
"Oh I don't have one now, I'll think of something in the near future," she replies as she sips her own drink delicately.
"Do you want to be in an alliance?" I ask after a while more of meaningless chatter and several run throughs of the Reapings which I get the feeling are more for the benefit of our enthralled escort than us.
"Haha, thanks for the offer but I'm more of a lone wolf. It was nice of you to ask though," she smiles brightly again.
Really?
The pretty, smiling District 8 girl thinks she's a lone wolf.
The escort runs out, unannounced again as I ask her, "Are you sure, I wouldn't mind having you tag along. I'm sure you could help out and I wouldn't have any trouble with an extra member."
"So you can flirt with me too Blaze 'Valentine?' Hah, like I'd need to 'tag along' with you. You're not even worth stabbing because of the effort it would take to clean the blade. Look hurt all you want, it won't make a difference to the fact I'll be more than happy to move you out of my way with a knife to get home to Ves and Tison. Have a nice night if you want, I don't care," she waves her hand as she walks into her bedroom.
I need to watch out for her.
I was totally fooled by her 'nice girl' act.
I miss my family…
Kristy Greene: (District 9)
I still feel woozy when I land on the train in a heap on the floor.
Amazingly it's really uncomfortable, especially when Ahab kicks aside my foot to reach a chair. Other than that, he just sits down, stares out the window and ignores me. That's nice of him.
I'm still blocking the doorway when our escort bundles in and immediately starts fussing over me, dabbing at my head and exclaiming that she can't believe the Peacekeepers would leave me in this state before the Games.
Eventually she decides the best thing for me is a 'nice, hot shower' and shoves me into the cubicle fully clothed.
When she leaves, I get rid of my bloodied Reaping outfit and sink into the shower, running the hot water and pressing a whole heap of random chromed buttons indented into the wall.
I get childish pleasure out of pressing as many buttons as I can until I get smacked in the face by a cushioned face-scrubbing-thingy and crushed from every angle by something that the button calls a 'loofah.' No idea what it is but the machine uses it like a metal plate scourer until my entire body feels like it's covered in raw, fresh skin.
Still, I can't resist the urge to press one last button and get rewarded with a spray of cinnamon and orange perfume. It smells nice, whatever cinnamon is. I've seen oranges but obviously cinnamon is something fancy in the Capitol.
When I finally decide to jump out of the shower, a clean uniform has been laid out with number 9s on the sleeves of the shirt and light cargo pants but no shoes.
Ahab's still sitting exactly how he was when we arrived and I sneak up behind him and jump out at him.
Still he doesn't move.
It's sort of creepy. Still, he can't sit like that forever and some time I'm going to get him to move and talk like a normal human being.
Because I'm a perfect specimen of normality.
When the escort realises I've returned, she leaps out and forces some pills on me to 'relieve the pain' which I barely even notice.
You don't live in the Districts, least of all when you have a habit of pranking the Peacekeepers, without at least a little bit of pain tolerance.
I pretend to be tired to have another crack at getting Ahab to move when he's unsuspecting.
As soon as I lie on my bed though, I realise that they weren't so much pain killers as tranquilisers. From the feeling of drowsiness, probably tranquilisers for something like those 'horses' in District 10.
Which means I have to act quickly before I pass out.
I grab a small trash bin that's in the corner of the room, I don't even know what trash I could have so it's probably just for 'the look,' and fill it with boiling water from the shower.
I open the door silently and toss the water all the way from the doorway over Ahab's head.
His jaw clenches as he growl, "Enough," and remains sitting in his chair, covered in water and left over soap suds.
I only get time to think 'Someone's clearly a sociable guy' before I pass out on the floor.
Matt Hanson: (District 10)
Some part of my mind refuses to accept that I'm in the Hunger Games, no matter how irrational the rest of my mind knows that part is.
My muscles aren't yet clenched in terror, the lump in my throat is barely noticeable and I can still breathe like I'm in District 10 even if the air is filtered unnatural and noticeably lacking in eau de horse dung. That's a bad thing, the stench of incontinent horse is one of the strongest memories I have of home and it's already fading like the borders of District 10 through the windows of the train carriage.
Instead, my mind's decided to go AWOL and leave me feeling angsty about the fact that I never had many friends back in District 10 and my brother told me that he was happy I was Reaped.
Am I really that unlikeable?
"Why's the horse got your head?" Scarlett asks as my elbows dig into my knees after my head flops onto it. It's a saying in District 10; other Districts say 'why the long face?' but everyone in District 10 knows horses have longer faces than any depressed human ever will.
"No one likes me…" I mumble stupidly. Logic tells me that I shouldn't care about people and what they think, least of all before the Games, but logic isn't the only benefactor in my emotional state. Unfortunately hormones and societal norms have an infuriatingly large stake in my behaviour as well.
"Haha, you really think no one likes you, Matt Hanson?" she asks, laughing slightly.
"Why's that funny? You've got more friends than I'll ever have," I reply as she rolls her eyes. It's a dismissive gesture but she doesn't seem to be being abusive about it. It seems I have a lot to learn about the other tributes before the Games start.
"You think you're unpopular? You're more popular than I'll ever be," she says derisively. I'm about to ask who says that I'm popular when she cuts me off, doing a 'shh' gesture, "Shut it. Now, Mr. Hanson, every single teenager in our District owes something to you. From some kid who you stopped getting beaten up, like me just this morning, to some kid who'd been beating up someone else that morning that you still helped do their work. Just because we don't always talk to you doesn't mean we don't like you. Hell, it's not like it matters anyway; my best friend Hallie has had a rush on you for ages. She's wanted to ask you out for ages but is too nervous too because everyone thinks of you as a sort of god-like figure, protecting the downtrodden and the wealthy alike in your own little way. So don't you tell me that you don't have friends got it?"
Scarlett's glare could melt an iron bar as she dares me to disagree with her. She's certainly more impressive when she wants to be. "Yes," I nod, "I have a large quantity of friends and admirers, to use the colloquial term; got it."
"Good boy," Scarlett says, ruffling my hair as she walks past, "have a drink," she drops a can into my lap.
"Woof."
I get another pat.
Millie Sun Mallard: (District 11)
As soon as I get into the train carriage I manage to drag myself to the food dispenser in the corner, before the servants come around to serve us.
I order everything I can touch and then descend on the plate like the fate of the world depends on me inhaling it without choking or stopping to breathe.
Food has never tasted so good; I can't fault the Capitol for the quality of their food. It's so delicious and juicy and all the sugar makes me want to bounce off the walls.
When I finally sit down, trying to avoid puking, Denver is looking out the window, watching the orchards pass by.
Those orchards are the ones I've worked on since I turned 8. We all turn and watch the trains go by whenever they come, taking a moment off work to watch the glistening tube fly by and to salute the tributes that we all knew passed on it.
Now I'm the one being saluted and it makes me feel slightly sad. I don't want to leave my home, no matter how little of it there is left.
That's still not going to stop me from proving them wrong. No way am I going to die in the Games, no matter how hungry I was at the Reapings. Greg and Sash need their third wheel.
Denver's eyes keep snapping towards me at random intervals before snapping away. Like he expects me to be doing something but then looks away when he realises I'm just sitting here.
"What do you want?" I ask when his eyes flicker towards me again.
"Sorry, did you say something?" he rumbles. Man his voice is really, crazily deep.
"Why do you keep looking at me?" I ask again, emphasising each word while wondering how he didn't hear me the first time. I'm not loud but I didn't think I was that quiet.
"Sorry," he replies, looking slightly hurt as his eyes flicker away.
Aw crap, I always seem to do everything wrong with people. I'm not really a people person to put it lightly.
"Want a drink?" I ask as I stomp over to the drinks machine in the corner of the train car. He gives me a querying look again before looking at the drinks machine and nodding. There's something a bit funny about him, that's for sure. Hopefully the good kind of funny as well.
"Give me another one," he calls as I'm about to walk back to my chair.
He snatches the next one out of the air as I toss it, looking quizzical, and starts juggling. After the first few nervous tosses he grins at me, "Cool, eh? I've been practicing for ages with fruit whenever I have free time during a break and not enough food to eat through it. Chuck me another one; come on, one more time. Please?" he fails drastically at over-excited puppy dog eyes.
He actually seems like a nice guy… hopefully it'll make the time in the lead-up to the Games more fun at least. After that I don't even want to think about, being depressed isn't any fun; Exhibit A being my father.
I grab one more drink and he doesn't stop juggling as I hold it, waiting for him to stop so he can catch it, "Come on, throw it," he says as I continue to look at him doubtfully.
I throw it and he manages to keep the new can in check, but he messes up catching the one in the air over his head and the can crunches on his head, spraying foaming drink all over his head from the can nestled in his hair.
"You wanna try?" he asks, holding out the two unbroken cans while brown drinks pours off his arms.
I love nice guys.
Wes Faulkner: (District 12)
Ivy either glares at me or looks away as we sit on chairs on opposite sides of the room on the train. Personally I'm fine with sitting with Ivy but she sat as far away as possible and made it clear that she was doing it.
At least I got the armchair- less chance of coming into contact with The Implants. Seeing them up close, I reckon they deserve the Capitol letters. Pun definitely intended. Meanwhile Ivy is sitting on a two seater couch next to our escort's room; I'm already attempting not to laugh.
"So how's the train ride going for you?" I ask, attempting to break the ice. Not that it's possible to break some of the ice; I swear the cabin's at least 20˚C cooler than the air outside. Those implants must create a heck of a lot of sweat. First thing I like about the Capitol; they have these fluffy pants and jackets that are so warm and comfortable that I would never take them off in District 12.
"Shut up."
"Hey, what did I do?" I ask, genuinely wondering why my first potential ally is so hostile.
"We're going to the Hunger Games together and you wonder why I don't trust you? Really?" she replies, beginning her glaring again.
"You're my District partner. I wouldn't kill you."
"It's not… it's not you killing that I'm worried about," she whispers back, her piercing glare flicking aside to focus on a join in the cabin wall.
After a prolonged awkward silence containing mostly awkward thumb twiddling and some sugary, bubbly drink that comes out of a metal contraption that gets crushed really easily, I sigh, "I miss my sister…"
"Well maybe you should've volunteered for a boy so you could go to your deaths together," Ivy snaps.
Apparently I've touched a nerve but I'm not sure if it's just the fact that she's in the Games instead of my sister that I've set her off about.
Between her and our escort, I get the feeling I'm going to have a thoroughly… uncomfortable train ride.
Girls…
Chariots up ASAP but I want you guys to answer about whether it's from the POV of Regan or the tributes themselves.