Okay, the remainder of the Chariot Rides are going to be in a number of POV, I am not neglecting this story at all… despite the slower updates :S So SORRY for the long wait. It's just that the Chariot Rides are a little repetitive, so yeah... but I've got the whole story kind of drafted and my Victor chosen, and it won't change! ¬.¬ Unless I'm hit with inspiration!

I am trying to decide on so many things but I am going to power through now :D Because you all deserve it! :) Plus I'll be updating uber regular now! This chapter covers the rest of the Chariot Ride and the night afterwards.

Cinna Despardos, Capitol Citizen.

After the aesthetic spectacle of District One, I was expecting for all other district's to pale in comparison but that assumption of mine was cast aside quickly as the chariot bearing the tributes of District Two appeared, to tremendous applause although the applause seems to have not ceased since the parade had begun and I anticipate that the atmosphere of desire and excitement will linger for the remainder of the tribute parade and into the night. In contrast to their career counterparts, the angle played with this set of tributes was not to highlight them as beautiful or charming but as deadly and unforgiving; my hand flew across my notepad scribbling 'masculine tailoring' and 'armour' and 'mythology'. To an educated mind like my own I was able to decipher whom the districts were meant to portray: The female, whom Claudius Templesmith tells me is Sandra Burghardt is a representation of thee Ancient Greek Goddess Artemis; the white toga symbolizes purity, virginity and innocence but Artemis was not only the goddess of virginity. Artemis also represented the huntress; this was blatantly obvious by the golden bow which the girl held in her hand and it is apparent this girl is anything but innocent but she is most certainly a huntress.

In terms of her physicality this Sandra girl was completely 'normal', you wouldn't pay her much attention under normal circumstances but seeing as she is a District Two tribute the audience knows she will be a deadly competitor and worth sponsoring. But she holds my attention for an entirely different reason, her eyes shine with some indescribable emotion; her eyes belie her strength, whether or not that is physical I do not know but if I were a betting man rather than somebody disgusted by the Hunger Game's sentiment I would keep my eye on this girl. Thankfully, I am being allowed to focus on the tributes as the vultures that are deemed 'acquaintances' are pre occupied with drooling over the tributes, thirsty for when their blood will be spilled. I swallow my disgust as I turn my eyes back to the condemned.

Her Grecian, asymmetrical white dress hangs from her left shoulder, constructed by silk I would assume by the way the dress hung. In contrast to the female of District One however this dress was not made in order to sexualise the tribute. The form fitting style of the dress brought focus to the width of her shoulders and her impressive musculature, a clever decision by her stylist in all honesty as it singles her out as the 'strong woman' and it is a renowned fact, by anyone knowledgeable in the Hunger Games, that strong girls within the arena are usually more successful than their pretty counterparts; you only need to have seen Enobaria Yenston to know that. Especially when such a girl comes from a career district.

I draw a quick sketch of her dress and annotate it with the words 'strong' and 'narrow waist'. I stare at the girl through my binoculars a moment longer, I recognise how she is different from what I expect of District Two females: There is a sense of compassion to the way her green eyes burn, a passion and determination that concretes my earlier notion that this girl is one to watch. Even though this girl seems to have to captured my attention, I realise I need to make notes on her district partners outfit. Claude Dew is a great physical specimen with an impressive physique and would be considered a contender but the first thing I notice are the boy's wide eyes, the gentility: This man before me is not a killer, he is a being of caring and love. I feel the clenching of melancholy in my stomach, although this boy was a volunteer I assume that the circumstances of said volunteering were different and that he would rather be anywhere but trapped in the Hunger Games.

Claude's chariot costume are modelled on the Ancient Greek warrior Achilles, with the bronze chest plate and the brown leather adornments; the leather skirt and the bracers seem to be encrusted with studs of gold, an inaccurate representation of the time but I suppose that such glamour is necessary when capturing the eye of potential sponsors. I write down 'warrior' and although that is what the costume portrays I doubt the word can be associated with the one that wears it. I can see that it shows his defined pectoral muscles and the well defined muscles which line his limbs but I know that this boy, if in a direct confrontation with his district partner, would perish. However, nobody else seems to notice what I have; I hear Tahmena's hushed whisper 'Oh, like this boy is like hot and like well like fierce.' I roll my eyes and return to watching the tributes.

Whereas I saw the relationship between the District One tributes easily, I am unable to determine a relationship between these two as they both stare ahead, seemingly aloof and unbothered by the screaming crowd. I scribble for a while longer, but I am return my eyes to the tributes of District Two a number of times in order to try and absolve the enigma that resides over their relationship but before I can dwell on it any longer, another siren sounds and I re direct my attention to the entrance to the Remake Centre. The multitude of hasty sketches and often illegible scribbling which mar my notepad are ignored as I flip the page, my pen held steadily as I prepare to take more notes.

Aezir Marshton, District 9.

Time appears to trickle by slowly, it seems as though it was eons ago when I was called at the reaping when in reality it had been less than a day; I stare contemptuously at my district partner Fiona, ever since she slapped me I have treated her with a cold indifference but I must admit that she looks stunning with the golden dress that falls to her ankles and hugs her feminine curves and then bronze headdress, she is natural beauty personified. She looks like a shaft of wheat bathed in golden sunlight, but I turn my back on her and fiddle with the lapel of my own bronze suit. This girl is determined to survive, but her determination will fail; with her crippled leg she would be lucky to survive the initial bloodbath and if she does I will not hesitate in ending her life. There is only one rule to the Hunger Games and that is to kill or be killed, so I will slash her and any other that crosses me like the chaff of crops I slice down back in the crop fields of District Nine.

Fiona glares at my back, I can almost feel the heat of her loathing but I watch as the chariots pass through the gates and enter the City Circle to the annoying commentary of Claudius Templesmith. These are the 23 other children who must die in order for me to survive, and I am intelligent enough to know that I need to learn as much as possible about my opponents and that begins here at the Chariot Rides. So far I have learnt that District One's tribute female is a whore who'll probably cry when she chips a nail and the male isn't much better; sometimes I'm worried by what defines a career district nowadays. I should be worried seeing as they've trained for this, a lot more than I have, but somehow they're both just vain, pompous and relatively harmless fools. Even Fiona with her crippled leg shouldn't be scared of them, well she should but any able bodied person wouldn't be too intimidated by what District One has to offer this year. But as I said, in the Hunger Games it is naïve to underestimate anybody so obviously I'll keep an eye on these tributes.

The District Two tributes seem to be warriors and before their chariot left I could see they were discussing something, rather heatedly and I feel something stirring in my gut, if there is discord amongst the careers already then that is something of an advantage to all of us that aren't 'privileged' enough to have received their bountiful training. As I made this realisation however, the girl who I think is called Sandra turns to look at me. Her green eyes pierce into mine and I have to prevent myself from flinching under her stare; it doesn't seem aggressive, in fact her stare is loaded with curiosity or something along those lines. What makes me flinch is that her stare says that no matter how much I've tried to prepare myself for the oncoming bloodshed, that she could eliminate me as easily as she turned her eyes to me. I breathe a sigh of relief as the District Two chariot leaves the stables, the boy didn't catch my attention but I know that I will be trying to keep tabs on that girl. The next chariot lining up for its departure is carrying the District Three tributes, on first glance they are both snivelling tributes destined for a death early on in the games, neither of them seem to physically catch my eyes with their plain outfits and pitiful physiques. The boy looks for want of a better word like a sewer rat with his dark hair, pale skin and scrawny body; dressed in a copper coloured suit with a silver shirt which I think is supposed to be , that looks baggy although seeing as we're in the Capitol it is tailored to perfection.

I am not arrogant enough to believe myself invulnerable, but despite the intelligence of most District Three tributes I cannot look at this boy as a threat. I pity him; for he will die I can guarantee that. The girl looks rather well built with her pale red hair, she almost resembles Fiona without the crippled leg but there is an intelligent air about the girl that makes me believe that she could be a formidable ally, and I would try and recruit her if it weren't for the fact that she was hugging the weak boy and obviously trying to mother him. She is a carer, and that will be her downfall in the games. You cannot care under these circumstances, it makes you weak and the weak ones never win in a fight for their life. She is wearing a pale copper dress that falls to the ground with silver detailing of what I think is a circuit on the bodice. They begin to roll out. I turn my eye to the next chariot to roll out, ready to analyse the next set of tributes who'll have to die if I want to go home, I swallow the revulsion that bubbles through my chest; I'm a little sickened at the my own willing to slaughter innocent children because that is what every single one of us are: Children. I quickly avert my eyes to see Fiona gnawing on her lip, her fear evident despite her snarky demeanour and even though her fear is only something I could use against her later but I just want to reach out and comfort her but I can't let something as trivial as physical attraction get in the way.

Bala Eaglehawk, District 4.

Today has been one of the most dreadful days I've ever faced in my thirteen years of life on this sodden Earth, and seeing as I grew up in a District that believed me to be 'witch spawn' that is saying something. I am confounded as to how these Capitol people can endure that cosmetic torture on a regular basis, I mean at 13 I don't really have any surplus hair but somehow the dreaded prep team managed to somehow wax me to within an inch of my life but that's okay as long as I'm 'Camera Ready'. I huff and fold my arms against my chest, holding onto the memories of the ocean waves crashing against the rocks back home in District 4. I saviour those memories of tranquillity, the whistling of the wind like a symphony that can calm my most worst states of anxiety; the loving caress of the ocean spray that makes me believe that one day I could find that one person who'll love me despite my reputation in District 4. If I close my eyes for a moment I'm back on the beach staring into a vast ocean of possibilities, drowning out the tremulous applause and cat calls from the crowd.

A small smile plays on my full lips as I promise that one day I will see the ocean again but then this small fantasy of mine is shattered and I'm dragged, unwillingly, back to reality by a voice that oozes arrogance, a voice that makes every muscle of mine coil in anticipation of an attack, a voice that I will silence when I enter that arena. I open my eyes to see Kai staring down at me, a mocking smirk dancing on hi broad lips and despite his obvious physical allure I cannot suppress the repulsion that wells within me. I turn away from him; we've already been at one another's throats and however much it would please me to gut the arrogant berk like a fish: The venue for our upcoming confrontation is the arena of the 62nd Hunger Games. I know that in the end it will be Kai who kills me, or I him. He chuckles at my ignorance of his taunting, I bite my lip as I remember Mags' advice: 'I'nore th' arrogan' little fool, watch 'im an' then we'll think of wha' ta do later.' Yes, I'll be watching him like a hawk and one little slip up on his despicable behalf and I'll swoop in.

"So Bala, you're a mermaid? Well, a siren. I think I'll make you sing before I slaughter you. How fitting that your song should spell your death, don't you just love the irony?" I turn to look at him and give him what I hope to be a disarming smile. I know what he's trying to do, Mags told me on the train that he'll be trying to get under my skin, exploit my so called fiery temper. Well he needs to get himself another strategy because I'm going to keep my temper on a tight leash, I've had to ignore taunts and maliciousness since I could walk and talk so what would a few more weeks mean? I look down at my costume and he's right: I am a siren but this siren is singing for survival, and for me to hit the final note then every other tributes voice needs to be silenced indefinitely.

My skin has been dusted a dusky pink and gold, beneath the bright lights I emit an ethereal glow; I am dressed in a golden skirt made from what appears to be golden fish scales which glitters, it clings to my skin but fans out at my feet like a fish tail. Then I'm wearing some weird corset style top, gold and pink sequins glitter in the light and I can't help but feel a little exposed by the style of clothing. It is very 'adult' and at 13 I can't help but feel awkward standing here in these clothes bearing all to the whole of Panem. I just smile sweetly and notice that Kai is in an even worse state than I but of course he wouldn't mind showing off his muscles would he? His skin is painted a powder blue and gold like me, but all he wears is a length of golden net which is knotted in a way that hides his manhood from view. Every muscle is defined and I know that the audience will have eyes for only the Adonis who stands next to me, with his shaggy brown hair and those dark brown eyes he will have sponsors queuing for miles.

"Ah yes Kai, very observant. I must commend your stylist. Not only has your stylist captured the essence of our district, she's also captured your personal essence: Complete and utter man whore. Maybe the sponsors will dish out because you parade in front of them practically naked but in that arena it's just you and me. That pretty little face of yours won't save you and neither will your sponsors." I flutter my eyelashes and smile as Kai digests what I've just said in my newly adopted sickly sweet tone. I see the flicker of recognition in his eyes, the way he leans towards me with an unspoken threat lingering in his gaze but I'm not scared at all. This little man likes to think that he's emotionless but I know that is a complete lie, and now the tables have turned and it is me who'll be exploiting his volatile temper. The tension continues to grow as we remain locked in a staring contest where neither one of us is willing to back down.

"Oh little girl, let's not be foolish. You don't want to upset me, because I hold your pathetic life in my hands and if you piss me off too much I'll make sure that you suffer that little bit more." His menacing whisper is bone chilling but I glare back into his eyes defiantly, my sweet smile still firmly in place. Despite the fear that I feel seeping into my veins I just roll my eyes and force a girlish giggle before we're called. The Chariot pulls out from the waiting area and we're hit with a wall of applause, I was right that all eyes would be on my district partner who is flexing his muscles and smiling. Women are swooning as he blows kisses and I remember what Mags told me: 'Pup, ya make sure you ge' noticed, mo matter wha'. 'Member, he can' hi' ya.' I whip my hair around and smirk as I hear the slap of sea shells braided into my hair against his bare skin, I step so that I'm in front of Kai. I don't concern myself with how he's reacting; I need to make sure that eyes are on me. Now that I'm standing in front of Kai I throw my chest out and wave both my arms in the air, I know I look like a ditzy blonde girl with no brain but that doesn't matter because amongst the chanting of Kai's name I begin to hear roars of my own. I simper around the Chariot, moving around Kai as though he isn't there and waving into the crowd, blowing kisses and shimmying like a complete moron but it's necessary. As we're nearing the end of the runway and I hear the chariot of District 5 emerge from below the remake centre I strut to Kai's side and sink my manicured nails into his arms and I hear his intake of breath.

"Well Kai, this foolish little girl doesn't mind upsetting you. Especially if it means everyone's eyes are on me and not you, you egotistical moron." I give him a cheeky wink and fold my arms as we wait for the other tributes to arrive. Bala 1, Kai 0 but he simply smirks, while he winks over to the female tribute from one. Oh so he is playing the flirt in order to get into the careers, I don't think that's a good idea at all. I could face Kai alone and maybe I could escape with my life in tact but with a band of careers behind him my chances disappear. The joy that I had been feeling after my spectacular display in the parade vanishes as quickly as it appeared; I just fold my arms and glare at the back of Kai's head hoping that under some mysterious circumstance he will keel over and die before we enter the arena. He turns and winks at me and I just shrug my shoulders, I'll be damned if I show him how his alliance with the careers insights the fear of God almighty in me.

"Yes little girl, upset me as much as you like but remember I'm guaranteed a place in the career alliance and you'll be there alone. So you can have as many eyes' on you as you like, because you won't have as many eyes on you when me and my little alliance tear you limb from limb." I can feel myself pale, he is right. In that arena it is me versus them and if I am to have any hope of survival then I need allies. Of the only tributes so far my only hope is to ally with the tributes from District 3, Greer and Lee I think and it is glaringly obvious they are already in alliance since she is hugging him and their heads are together whispering. They don't look necessarily powerful but neither am I, they look rather intelligent though. I mean District 3 is the home of the brainiest people in the whole of Panem and since I'll have no hope of defeating the careers with brute strength, I'll have to out smart them and these tributes could probably help. I'll try talking to them in training but for now I turn back to the runway where the parade continues to see if anybody else who catches my eyes.

Rosalinde Snow, Capitol Citizen.

I have spent the previous half an hour swallowing the bile that burns my throat, this whole process disgusts me: Parading these poor children around before the superficial invalids that seem to constitute the Capitol population, when they're all destined for death. I just long to stand up and to scream at them to run. To escape this death trap even though it would be fruitless. These children don't deserve to be pitted against one another in some Neanderthal display of strength, a tournament where the prize is simply a life. What makes it all worse is this pathetic spectacle of trying to make this communal killing some form of festivity: We as rational beings should not commemorate the death of 23 young people, who are losing out on the opportunity to love, live and laugh. I look behind me to look directly into the eyes of Satan himself, the serpent who lurks in the grass. My father stares impassively out at the 24 children he has sentenced to death, each of these children has his unique brand of venom travelling through their veins, 23 will die by his hand and one will live a life of nightmares and self loathing.

He orchestrates this monstrosity, he could stop it but yet he is content to sit and watch the bloodshed as cold and detached as ever. That is why he needs to be ridden of. So far we've only seen four districts but that is more than enough for me, the girl Ruby as cold and ruthless as ever. I've spent years playing the role of the doting daughter, so I know an actress when I see one and this girl is nothing more than a whore and I didn't need Sheen to tell me of her discretions with Platinum Hertzesky to know that. Then there is Nicoli, a boy who seems so sweet and naive and I already mourn for what he'll lose even if he is lucky enough to escape with his life. Then the 13 year old girl Bala, dressed provocatively at the tender age of 13. The sexualisation of such young people is diabolical, there is no word that encompasses the moral implications of such a thing.

Blossom is 'Ohhing' and 'Ahhing' as the other Chariots roll out, at her young age is simply astounding by the gaudy outfits and the general theatricality of the Hunger Games and I yearn for the day these games are abolished. I just hope it is before Blossom reaches the age when she can comprehend the brutality her Grandfather endorses. The District 5 tributes are before us now after having completed the circuit of the City Circle. The girl is crying and I shut my eyes, the devastation she wears on her face. Even though this Autumn girl is 17, she looks so frail and innocent knowing that death awaits her. Dressed in a silver dress that clings to her slim frame and adorned with sapphires crafted into the shapes of miniature lightning bolts she looks as though she would rather be anywhere but here and I understand that feeling implicitly. She stares at the ground, her shoulders hunched as she wraps her arms around her waist in some vain attempt to hold herself together. Her eyes are scrunched together as if she is trying to stop her tears falling and I take a deep breath to cool the rage simmering inside of me, why should this girl not be allowed to show her emotions? It doesn't make her weak, but she has to impress the Capitolites. And they want someone who is a mindless killer, not a girl who has been dragged from her home with a possible death sentence above her head.

Her district partner is also trying to appear strong as his smoky brown eyes smoulder with an emotion I cannot place, his jaw is set with determination and I would say that this young man is most capable of surviving. But this boy isn't some emotionless killer I've seen like Ruby and the male from 4. He tries to maintain this demeanour of detachment and strength but I can see through the facade and what I see causes a pain in my chest. The concerned glances toward his district partner, looks loaded with pity and caring. Not essentially love, but a compassion which is incredibly rare in the Capitol. His silver suit and the sapphire blue tie, colours so cold they don't represent him at all. The warmth of his gaze would be much better complimented in shades of red or orange. These two tributes have caught my eye, they don't deserve this. None of them deserve this.

I see that by now all of the tributes are before me now, 24 young people and 23 of them are going to do. There is no question about it, I trail my eyes and I see an array of expressions: Fear, anxiety, discomfort and then joy, longing and hope. The 6 tributes dressed in simple black unitards adorned with small wheels to represent their transportation industry, the poor girl is looking around and biting her lip as her wrings her hands. She appears so angelic, so innocent but an air of resignation lends itself to her character: Has she already accepted the cold embrace of death? Does she welcome it, to escape a world of cruelty? Her male counterpart just stares into the distance, hands fisted at his sides and I understand his motivation. This idea of suppression has been maintained for millennia to govern the world's population but in a world where we're deemed 'civilised', the sentiment of the Hunger Games seems too extreme. He seems to be taking deep breaths, eyes closed as he stands motionless as if wanting it all to be over. I just want to reassure them all that as soon as I am prepared it will all be over, my promise an attempt to reassure them that their sacrifice though horrific will contribute to a better tomorrow, a brighter future.

The 7 Tributes looks strong, standing apart and looking in different directions. They are polar opposites with the girl appearing dainty, dressed once again as a tree with a brown shift dress and a headdress of leaves. The stylists of District 7 have no idea of originality but that isn't the point, the tribute parade shouldn't be about the stupid fashions and the ridiculous costumes, it is about the 24 children who've been snatched from their homes and forced to fight to the death. The girl radiates the idea of being fierce and despite her petite physique she is no weakling and her eyes burn with a hatred so palpable as she stares up into the box of the Presidential entourage, an aura of rebellion engulfs the girl and I sit up straighter in my seat: It takes one person to light a fire which grows into an inferno and this girl could be the one. The boy is burly, a physique that screams strength but does he have what it takes to take another's life? His gaze is soft, his eyes shine with a certain tenderness and I feel sympathy for this gentle giant well within my chest. The brown suit and the green shirt, understated but it does allude to the idea of this boy being a tree: Tall and strong but defenceless against the evils of the world and easily cut down. Will one of these trees remain standing at the end of this, or will they fall? And if they do, will there be anybody to hear?

The tributes of district eight, Lacey and Lyle I believe, they look flawless in their couture evening wear. Perfectly tailored but if only the tributes themselves could emulate this flawlessness, if only they could be as easily read as the sharp cut of their attire. The girl, only 12 years of age with the world at her feet and too young to have experienced a lot of the world. The great shame is that she will more than likely face the sharp knife of a short life. She smiles sweetly, but I cannot suppress the thought that beneath the smile there is something more sinister. Her blue eyes shine with a sense of cold calculation and I think that this girl is either a devil masquerading as an angel, or an angel hiding beneath the mask of a devil. However sombre the sentiment is I can only say that time will tell, will this girl become a ruthless murderess or a 12 year old hiding in a hole waiting for her inevitable death and could anybody condemn her for whatever path she finds herself on. The boys handsome face appears expressionless but he holds himself with pride and an air of confidence that implies his flippancy about the Hunger Games, but his eyes shine with a hunger. This hunger though, is it for blood or survival? His calm composure appears unperturbed and I cannot guess as to what this young man hungers for.

District 9 are dressed like wheat in a palette of bronzes and pastel oranges and the effect is rather pleasant aesthetically, but I look beyond that. It is all about the condemned children wearing the clothing, the boy looks strong as do many of the others and like others he seems determined but he holds himself with his legs shoulder width apart and his eyes dart around as if to analyse each and every tribute. This boy is not simply a physical specimen, there is an acute intelligence residing in his brown eyes. The boy is not to be underestimated. The girl appears aloof, radiating confidence and glaring defiantly at anyone who catches her eye but this belies her inner insecurities. This girl despite her confident exterior is coming to terms with her potential demise and the facade is beginning to collapse, the glass is beginning to crack and I can only hope it doesn't shatter under the pressure. Youths having their innocence stolen, only one of the many crimes committed by the poor excuse of a man I am forced to call father. I shake my head as I see tears well in the girl's eyes as she looks around at those she will face in the arena, with her disability she is already at a distinct disadvantage. She didn't ask to be put into a situation where something she cannot help will work against her and more than likely result in her dying.

This is too much; the children standing before me awaiting death. I stand from my seat and nod towards my father as he heads toward the podium to deliver his speech. A speech full of lies, the truths twisted: It is not honourable to die in these sick games, it is a travesty and I cannot sit and watch these things happen. Tonight my letters will be read, the seeds of change are almost planted and then we must wait for them to blossom and for rebellion to consume Panem, the thorns to tear apart the fallacies of my father. The truth will be the sun which shines down upon us all. My father nods his head in return and I leave. The pieces are falling into place and soon it'll be the moment to initiate the second phase of my elaborate scheme.

Sorry, this disappointed me... The Chariot Rides were never a favourite part of mine and they do actually make me want to tear my hair out and I know we haven't heard from particular tributes but you will... Training however, I love to write for so I'll be quick with that and then the interviews I don't know what to do! I'll probably choose certain tributes and just have others talking about their approaches maybe.

Alliance suggestions let me know...

Oh and REVIEW! Plus, the sub plot will be beginning to emerge and I have a special twist planned... but I don't want to say too much!