Hey, Hey…Well the general consensus from you guys is that I should introduce new tributes. So that's what you're gonna get :D

Now, I finished my big ass University essay today about European Theatre so for the time being updates are gonna be SUPER quick, so keep your eyes open ;)

I love these tributes very muchly ;)

Leonardo 'Leo' Wence, District 3

In such a mundane world there is truly very little for one to become fascinated with. I am trapped here, a teenager in the technology district: A district whose sole purpose is inventing the latest technology and the newest gadgets for the Capitol. At times I really wish that my mind could be consumed over something as basic as circuit boards and new ways to conduct electricity. Admittedly I am knowledgeable in these areas seeing as the trademark feature of District 3 is not something physical but our high intellect; but my minds capacity cannot be held by such trivialities.

To one like myself beauty is not some physical feature appearing on a member of the opposite sex, it is something much more enthralling; a true phenomena. The flickering of a flame is a morbid fascination of mine, the only real fascination I have here in District 3. However, some of those closest to me; those that know of said fascination would refer to it as an obsession. They are wrong, but I don't begrudge them their assumptions for they do not understand. They don't see the way that a flame is truly a living organism; a representation of humanity: born as a spark; a spark that needs fuel, oxygen and heat to live as do humans; the flames grow and grow until it amasses its potential of being warm, unpredictable and powerful. Fire seems to personify everything which I aspire to be, but my fire does not burn as bright as it should; it is trapped and I will not allow my fire to burn out, it will not become ash before Panem has acknowledged how bright my fire can burn. People are wary of fire, and I suppose that their explanations are in a sense justified: Fire is dangerous but isn't humanity just as dangerous if not more so?

I cannot remember when this lure took hold of me; how I began to notice the appeal of fire, how I became so mesmerised with something so potentially lethal. I think I was around 8 years old and as my parents were asleep I began to play with matches, accidentally setting fire to a pile of autumn leaves that littered the courtyard that my became the centre of the slum area which we live. In that moment everything changed, a metaphysical fire lit in my soul; the leaves beginning to wilt and curl into themselves, in a matter of minutes what was once whole became nothing but cinders.

This soul warming fire began to grow and so my addiction to seeing things burn and wither to nothing was born, and so I went on burning small unimportant things like disused crates which litter the streets of our district until that night one year ago. I never meant for it to happen, but I cannot and will not bring myself to regret it; for in my 15 years I have never seen a sight so splendid, never seen a sight so mesmerising: I still don't know how it happened. I was going through my usual routine of burning small crates and bits of rubbish and in the next moment a disused building was in flames; I should have felt fear creeping through my veins, I should of ran to get someone but I couldn't move. The building collapsed within itself as the flames consumed the wooden frame, the heat and wavering flames had me trapped in a trance.

Since then I have been yearning for something more, to see something else consumed by beautiful flames, my creations. Unhealthily my new obsession is to see someone burn, to see as fire licks the flesh of a human; but no I know this desire of mine is impossible to fulfil and personally I would never wish to actually do that to someone else. Instead I've devised a way of feeding my 'addiction', my body is littered with burns; self inflicted burns, it may sound horrific but I think the feeling is beautiful: the burn from a flame feels like being littered with kisses from the softest lips.

I understand that if people knew of my fascination they would deem me mentally unstable, an arsonist or maybe a pyromaniac; but I am not, I suppose you could say I'm an artist, fire is my paint and Panem is my canvas.

'Leo, my main man. What have you been up to all day? I thought you'd disappeared. Little Louise over here was almost in tears.' The instant I hear these voices my demeanour changes, the transformation is instantaneous. No longer am I the boy consumed by the beauty of flames, a raging inferno; I am now a controlled flame, glowing embers: To everyone else I am nothing but a boy who fades into the background; quiet, shy and respectful. Distinctly ordinary and completely harmless, nothing like the fire I wish to emulate. This voice belongs to Clark Ross, one of my only friends; he is pretty tall and I hear hushed whispers in the corridors of our school declaring him 'handsome', I suppose there right; he has the sleek black hair, the impressive physique and eyes the colour of milk chocolate.

'I've just been sitting here, you know. Trying to escape, it's reaping day so I thought I'd just take some time to just have a few moments to myself. Sorry for worrying you' my voice is muted, as always and seems truly devoid of emotion; I nod towards my other friend Louise Urn who is looking down at the ground although I see her eyes flicking toward the burning fire every so often.

I am considered timid within the district, by those who notice me anyway; but in comparison to Louise I am a courageous lion, with her blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes she could be pretty if it weren't for the fact she wore horn rimmed glasses, rarely spoke a word and always hid her head in a book. Louise was quiet but incredibly observant, she knew of my fascination with fire but not the extent.

'Well um … We wanted to come and find you, seeing as the reapings are to begin shortly… um, we're really sorry for having disturbed you, come on Clark' Louise's voice is as soft as a springs breeze and I can hardly decipher her words but I see the sentiment when she nudges Clark and nods towards the pathway which would lead to the residential sector of District 3.

'Oh no, I'll come with you. I wouldn't want to be late to the reapings' I stumble to my feet, and we begin the long walk home and in no time we are caught in genial conversation, but my mind still continues to wander: My inner fire beginning to burn with the need to see something burn.

Louise Urn, District 3.

Oh Leo, the boy consumes my every waking thought; not in the romantic sense, our relationship is only ever and will only ever be platonic in its nature but he is one of my only friends; my thoughts of him are tinged with worry, for his safety and more recently his sanity.

I am not the most sociable being, preferring the company of books; but I have spent a lot of time with him and so I have noticed things ever so slightly out of the ordinary, things that no one else would notice. I am slightly bitter that many berate me for having my head buried in a book when in fact I am the one that sees things that seem to elude everyone else. It is I who see the faded burns that criss-cross along Leo's arms, and most likely the rest of his body; I see the almost manic light in his russet coloured eyes whenever he looks at an open flame. I see him for the arsonist he is, but I do not judge him for that is only one half of the penny.

Leo is mostly a humble boy, content with his life despite the material deprivation he has faced, intelligent and wholly respectful. I am on my way to meet him as always before the reapings, and I hope that we will be walking home together again as we have done the previous three years. I see Leo awaiting my arrival; the humble boy, my friend and not the pyromaniac.

Leo isn't handsome, he is very ordinary looking with his shaggy brown hair and dark brown eyes, his skin is eerily pale as though his never seen the sun and his features are rather pointed; being the reason that the cowardly bullies christened him a 'sewer rat'. His scrawny frame is concealed by the threadbare brown suit he wears, it is far too big but the best his parents can afford and for that it is his favourite item of clothing; but on his right wrist I see the inch long silver scar, a testament to his strange addiction to playing with fire.

I step into his eye line and notice his eyes widen in recognition before he walks over to me; I decide to meet him halfway.

'Hey Louise, I was reading that book you lent me; very interesting. I loved the symbolism and foreshadowing' He was just trying to get me to talk, very considerate of him seeing as I rarely speak, so I humour him.

'Yes Leo, it's a good book; I thought you'd really appreciate the idea of the author exploring the symbolic potential for fire as something that heals as well as destroys' he looks alarmed at my words, we have spent many hours together in silence with nothing to do but to read or observe one another; does he really think me so dim that I would not notice the scars? His look of utter confusion seems to verify this.

'Oh yeah, well we had better be off to the reapings quickly' He begins to walk and I follow, I allow silence to reign for I do not feel like trying to engage him in a conversation about his unhealthy obsession, I'll wait until these reapings are over.

Greer Ballentine, District 3.

I hastily scrape my strawberry blonde hair into a pony tail at the nape of my neck and pull on the pale lemon shirt while trying to squeeze my feet into the one pair of heels that I own, and even they don't fit; If I ever get the time I'll make sure to buy a new pair. Then I take a look at myself in the vanity table that haunts the corner of my room, practically untouched seeing as I use my bedroom for one thing, and that's to sleep. I spend almost all of my time working in father's shop, working in the laboratory so I hardly have any time to waste prancing around like many of the girls here. However cliché it sounds I am a girl who would rather have a good head on her shoulders and fulfil my intellectual potential, than chase around after boys in some stupid attempt to find love. Not that I do not believe in love; I have seen many examples of this, my parents for example are very much in love its just that I do not have the time or motivation to go looking for love yet; I believe that when I am ready to fall in love, it will happen.

Right, back to my reflection; the one major flaw of being intelligent in my humble opinion is that our minds are capable of processing so much that we often find ourselves distracted, unless we have some problem facing us that needs to be solved of course. I'm 5'7'' tall but with the added 2'' from the patent black heels I'm 5'9''; my body is slim and toned, not from exercise but from hauling around a tool box and running from place to place repairing anything from a television to a vehicle carburettor; my almond shaped eyes are the palest shade of green, complementing my strawberry blonde hair and pale skin which is dotted with freckles. My black tweed skirt and yellow blouse look rather smart too; all in all I do look presentable but one thing is missing, I grab my glasses from the vanity and slide them up my nose, now I look presentable. I would have preferred having more time to get ready for the reapings, seeing as my one character flaw is my irrational need for perfection but for once I could care less, for today I am ecstatic. Greer Ballentine has been handed a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Beetee Coggs, Hunger Games Victor but more importantly renowned inventor had a discussion with me today about his current project: strengthening force fields used in the Capitol. I know very little about force fields, in fact I know absolutely nothing but it sparked my curiosity; and once my curiosity is sparked I have to quench the thirst for knowledge that accompanies it. I mean, think of the possibilities: the chance to work with alterations to the major electrical sources, maybe even AC even though it is incredibly dangerous and maybe even work in developing a parallel circuit board which can over ride the main power source.

See, the Capitol may just want a force field and Beetee will work to their specifications but such a project has limitless possibilities; you see it can be adapted to not only be a force field to keep things out but a trap of sort, if you reverse the current you can re direct the flow of energy effectively crushing anything within the boundaries of the force field; also, no matter how much people think technology nowadays have no flaws I know that their wrong: The force field could easily shatter if the electrical current running through it surpasses a particular wattage, it will simply implode. See, I am too obsessed with perfecting the design, maybe if there were a way to re direct the excess of energy the protective sphere would be impenetrable, but how? I wonder how my mind is able to process all of this, while simultaneously contemplating what other scientific achievements I could obtain throughout my life and then the whole idea of me trying to maintain a steady business in electronic repairs to bring some money home.

Before I leave my room I survey it, the periwinkle blue walls and solid oak furniture; something is out of place and I simply cannot leave without everything being in the correct order, if I don't it will be playing on my mind all day and with everything else that is playing on my mind I don't think it is particularly advisable. Ha, I notice the problem my hairbrush is not sat the 90 degree angle to my jewellery box; it seems stupid but I need for these things to be in order, imagine it were an experiment of sort: If I were to misplace particular elements in my lab it could react with either oxygen or any other compound housed there and the results would be horrific, to me it's the same within the confines of my bedroom; everything has its specific place and without it being in the correct place there is the potential that something terrible would happen.

I take one last fleeting look in the mirror and then I know I've forgotten something, I am being exceptionally neglectful of my surroundings today and if I cannot justify this with my excitement concerning Beetee's proposition, I could easily blame it on the reapings; the fear I associate with the Hunger Games secretes epinephrine into my hypothalamus, consequently causing elements of my nervous system to malfunction: effectively making me forgetful and not notice the finer details.

Ah, the Hunger Games causes me to remember: My token. If I were unfortunate to be drafted in as a tribute into the Hunger Games I would have to take my sterling silver pocket watch; although the watch has very little monetary value it has a great significance to me: Made by my father's nimble fingers, the intricacies and the way in which every small component works together to achieve a particular purpose; It is symbolic of me in a sense, I try to ensure that every element of my life runs accordingly with my ambitions and notions: efficiency is of great importance to me as well as striving for perfection.

Since I decide that I am technically ready I head downstairs to eat breakfast with the family, one of the few things that my mother ensures must be done every reaping day although I can think of a plethora of better ways to spend my time; maybe in the lab or doing a few last minute repairs throughout the neighbourhood. My mother asks for very little, so I decide to maintain the tradition every year in order to appease her.

I know it seems unfinished; the second part will be up soon. Wanted to make sure I updated soon. Let me know what you think though of the tributes. Oh and credit goes to:

AvenRose for Greer Ballentine

Europa22 for Leonardo Wence.

Thanks and I'll put the second part up ASAP. Now, REVIEW!

Lawrence :D xx