Chapter 9

Four chariots left. Here on out are the official 'outer Districts,' the ones I was surprised to see smiling (or at the very least, looking relatively calm) at the reapings. It just doesn't happen. The outer districts are the scared ones, the ones with the least victors, the ones that simply don't win. This is partially because they rarely get sponsors, but I have to admit, that's a little down to them too. Only… This year, I can't help feel like the balance has shifted. They outer Districts are the ones to watch out for. The careers arrogance will be the thing that kills them. The midpart districts will be surprising. Something has changed. The tables have turned.

There's a cheer and I look down the street to see the district 9 chariot, making its way down the streets. Inside are John Watson and Guinevere Pendragon. John looks steadfast, stood solidly on both feet, despite his cane. He's frowns around at the arena, as if he can't quite believe he's here, as if he's trying to find the way out. Guinevere is looking around with what seems like mild interest. Neither looks particularly bothered by the situation, almost as if the crowds were a fly they were considering batting away. Their stylists have nicely captured the essence of District 9: Grain. Guinevere is wearing a long golden gown. The top appears to be a band of beige/gold material, and the skirts of the dress, starting just below her ribs, is long stalks of wheat, and long grass woven cleverly together. She's wearing a tiara made of blades of old grass woven together, and it sets nicely against her dark skin and hair. John is wearing some sort of one-piece thing, made of woven wheat, which covers all the vitals, but shows off his muscles to the crowd. I was right when I said he was well-built at the reaping. He'll be one to watch out for.

Their chariot rolls past and I shift my gaze down the streets, searching for the next carriage. It pushes out of the stable doors and begins its steady procession down the street. It's the couple from District 10, Jack Harkness and Tally Youngblood. Jack is waving to the crowds and smiling winningly, whilst tally is just gazing around, staring at as many individual faces as she can. I like them both, simply because I don't know all that much about them and it intrigues me. I don't doubt I'm the only one, because the crowds around me have erupted into cheers, and not the usual kind. When the outer districts go by, there's cheering, but it's half hearted. After having seen the careers, the capitol viewers usually start to lose interest, and only cheer out of the excitement of being there. It's different right now. I have to say that there's nothing particularly majestically crafted or spectacular. They're both wearing cow herder clothes; dungarees and various different animal skins, topped off with the wide brimmed brown hate they always wear. It's no different from last year costume-wise. But I think for the first time, the Capitol is starting to realise that it's the person wearing the clothes that matters. The character beneath. Tally, with her pretty green eyes and wild ginger hair, looks like the kind of girl who'd stick it out, no matter what. She'd do whatever it took to win, or break the rules. Then there's Jack, with his charming looks and charismatic smile, the complete career type, who just happened to be born into the wrong district. The Capitol wants more from them than they're getting. They want to see the lives these two lead. They want the tributes from district 10 to pour their hearts out to them, and I realise that District 10 knows exactly what it's doing. They're making the capitol a piece in their very own game.

But now the would-be Gamemakers have gone, leaving the excited crowds with only two districts left. 11 and 12. The very epitome of poverty and hunger.

11's chariot rolls out. Luffy and Dekka are inside it, both staring around at the crowd. I'm beginning to recognise Luffy is the type that doesn't get upset, no matter what. He just seems generally cheerful, grinning madly and waving at the audience, who goes mad for him. Dekka, however, is silent. She stands with her arms crossed, feet planted solidly on the chariot floor, glaring straight ahead, adamantly refusing to acknowledge the capitol. I know this technique. It only works when you have the physical advantage though. A girl like Dekka, with her muscles and build and stare, can get away with that strategy. She's a rock. A dependable, fearsome rock that you don't want to come across under any circumstances. It's great and it works for her. However, if someone like Ron Weasley had tried it, it would be at best a failure. Not to put him down, because I was thoroughly impressed, but sometimes different strategy's work better for different people. Luffy has gone for Mr Optimistic. He's wearing that same straw hat again, and the red waistcoat, items I doubt I'll ever see him without. He occasionally raises the hat to the audience, grins and winks. He's playing the crowd well, and I frown as I watch him. Why is he so cheerful? He must know that he's going to his death. Unless that's why he's grinning: because he knows he's not. For all I know he's a prolific athlete, and he knows how to fend for himself. But he certainly hasn't let onto anything if he is. This has much the same effect on the capitol as it did with the District 10 tributes. The capitol wants more. More information about him, and if he's clever, he'll be reluctant to part with it. Then, just like that, their chariot has passed by. One district left. The poorest. The most poverty-stricken. 12.

The stable doors open once again and I watch as the last chariot rolls out. Inside the chariot is Teresa runner… And James Moriarty. I try not to watch him as it goes past, because if I'm honest, he terrifies me, and for reasons I cannot fathom. Teresa is smiling at the crowd, waving proudly, but it's her dress that takes me by surprise. Instead of the coal miner's outfit, instead of the coal-coated bodies, she's wearing a huge ball gown. It's beautiful, just like her, and I wonder how hard a team of seamstresses must have worked to make it. The dress is a burnt orange at the top, a fiery red that contrasts against her blue eyes and black hair. The dress carried onto her waist, tight fitting, and gradually growing darker. Imagine a burning coal, hottest at the top. The first part of the dress stops there, and then it flows out from her waist. There must be some sort of crinoline under there, because it spans out magnificently. The burnt orange colour at the top gradually becomes darker as the dress continues down, and the hem is the darkest black you can imagine. He arms have been left bare, in an alarming but delicate clash with the black of the dress and the night. She looks beautiful, and her stylist has done a good job. The capitol hates wasting beauty. To see her disfigured in the arena will be hard for them, and so they'll part with their money. It occurs to me suddenly that I am referring to the capitol as 'they.' I'm subconsciously distancing myself from them, and I can't figure out why. I shake myself and look back at the chariot. And I see him. James Moriarty, the pale, scary, sadistic one. I don't know anything about him yet, but that smile… His smile is disturbing. It's almost sweet, but I can see the threat underneath. It's like watching a crocodile. Smiling sweetly, waiting for you to get too close. And by the time you realise he's a treat, you're dead. He's wearing a suit. Black and simple. He doesn't need anything else.

And then they've gone. Only one part of the parade left. Our revered President Saruman must make his speech. I watch; sitting forwards in my chair, as he slowly takes to the podium. His beard has been neatly plaited and decorated with silver rings as usual, and his eyes are as cold and grey as ever. It's the first time I've seen him in the flesh.

"Welcome, tributes." He calls, his voice low and menacing as always. It sends a chill down my spine. "Welcome to this year's games." He spreads his arms wide, gesturing to wither the crowds, or the capitol as a whole. "We, as a people, as the superior people of Panem, as your Capitol, salute your bravery… And your sacrifice." He calls, and the whole of Panem is quiet in that moment. "We salute, your struggles, and we salute your victory. We salute your humanity." He continues. His voice is so powerful; I don't doubt he could shout across the whole of the Capitol without need of a microphone.

"Welcome tributes. Welcome to this year's Hunger Games." He finishes, and steps down from the pedestal.

THANK YOU FOR READING! :D I'm sorry for no character POV's this time. I did try, honestly, but none of them seemed to work/suit the characters, so I'll try again some other time :) Reviews, as always, appreciated (and when I say appreciated, I mean I literally fall of my chair with excitement for very one I get), as are follows and favourites. :)

NOTE: The 'A' key on my keyboard is really bad, and NOT AS RESPONSIVE AS THE REST OF THE BLOODY KEYS which is a pain, so please just take it as it comes :) Thanks for reading! :D

Lucy xxx