Here is another set of Reapings! It is the last set of large Reapings and then District 14. I hope you enjoy!
…
District 9 Almond Willow's POV
Dark brown hair looking half way decent? Check. Big nose still on my face? Check. Reaping outfit acceptable? Check. No emotion prevailing? Check.
Reaping Day is pretty much the holiday of unmasked emotions. Everyone is crying or rejoicing depending on what happened. It was a day where fear spreads like fire, tears crash like waterfalls, and happiness dries and floods all at once. It is like one all you can eat buffet of people in pieces. I am proud to say I don't support this day. I am Almond Willows and the only thing you will ever see on my face is serious face and a large nose.
Almond Willows is driven. That is something I can say about myself. Yet, sometimes I wonder if I am driven or my parents are driven for me. I like to think I think for myself. I like to think I don't care for anything. I like to think I am not sensitive and weak. Who could ever tell what is true and what is faux if you can mask your emotion so well? I want to think I do that well. Still, people have their cracks. I just haven't found mine yet.
I wipe a bit of grim off the mirror before heading downstairs. I smell eggs on the stove and I feel my lips twitching up into a grin. I walk into the kitchen to see my father serving eggs to my little sister Elliana. My brother Oak is impatiently tapping his fork against his plate, awaiting his food. My older brother Ashur is nowhere to be found.
My mother is the first to notice my arrival. "Almond, good morning and happy Reaping Day," she says with her little half smile. It always seems so forced and unnatural, but I have learned to love it over time. My father waves at me while piling eggs on my brother's plate.
"Would you like breakfast?" my father asks. I notice the pan is empty and I know we don't have many eggs left. However, my stomach does not quite understand our financial situation. I hesitate for a moment, staring at the empty pan, before shaking my head.
"Elli will be here any minute anyway. I'm sure we can find something on the way," I reassure him. He nods along, but I see he would prefer I eat something. These little gestures always remind me they do care at heart, even if they seem cold on the outside.
I walk behind Oak to say good-bye. Today is officially his first Reaping. I see by the way he is twisting at his finger, he more nervous than he will let on. He doesn't turn around to say good-bye, but wrap my arms around his tiny shoulders and whisper, "Good luck, Oak." He automatically shrugs away from my touch like most twelve year olds will do. I don't pay it any mind.
"Almond Willows, I don't have all day!" The voice echoes through my tiny house even though Elli is outside. I shake my head with my twitching smile and grab my coat. It is chilly is District 9 around Reaping Day. I wave to my parents before heading out the door.
"Good luck darling!" my mother calls out to me. I don't turn around, but I nod for her sake. My parents have always wanted me to excel at everything, but the Hunger Games were not part of everything. I know they would be scared for their lives if I was in that arena.
But I'm Almond Willows, I can do anything. Right?
Todd Halder's POV
"People are so easy on Reaping Day," Nash says with a laugh as he finishes counting our morning earnings. When he finishes, he pushes it into his back pocket. I too am pleased with this morning income. People are indeed easy to con on Reaping Day. All the hype just gets to people. I guess they believe buying useless items will put them at ease. Well, we make them assume that.
"Well, little brother, people just love a good antler polisher," I say with a smirk. He laughs at my comment. "Who knows, maybe one out of the five people we sold them to do have dirty antlers lying around waiting to be polished. Nash laughs harder at this.
"After the Reaping, how about a friendly duel?" Nash asks. He already knows the answer, but my twin is always very polite. He has to be to be able to convince sour hunters to be little knick-knacks for their unforgiving wives.
"You know it," I reply. "Are you going to invite Keely?" Keely, my brother's girlfriend disapproves of our fighting, especially since we have real swords. However, I always have to ask. What kind of brother would I be if I didn't take a few jabs at my twin?
Nash scowls at me for my comment. "It is just as funny the one hundredth time you've said it," he mutters under his breath. "Just so you know the answer is still no. I'm sure Emelia would like to come though."
It is common knowledge Emelia has a crush on me ever since I flirted her into buying a glass paper weight at the store. She is Keely's friend so we see her more often then our other classmates. However, I do not consider her a close friend.
So, I just shake my head at my brother's comeback. "You know Emelia, she is probably gossiping about you with Keely as we speak." Nash face turns cold again, but I know he isn't too offended. He is just self-conscious. Ever since he heard from a boy at school that Emelia and Keely were telling people about one of their dates, he hates the idea of Emelia and Keely in the same room.
Nash stays a bit too quiet for my tasted the rest of the walk over to the square. I try to pull him back into a conversation by recalling funny memories of our cons, but he brushes them off. I am afraid I have gone too far, but I don't have time to ask him when the crowd starts getting thicker and the voices louder.
We push and shove our way into the fifteen roped area. Almost all of our class is already there. I expected we'd be late anyhow. Nash goes to find Keely for a quick talk before the mayor steps up to the microphone, leaving me alone.
I wait in the crowd of girls checking their hair and boys flexing to impress said girls. It is almost painful to watch their weak attempts. I could have already gotten a girl wrapped around my finger with one line. Still, I stay quiet. I don't need a girl hanging around me today.
The mayor is at the microphone just as Nash gets back. The mayor goes into the History and our Victor List. Here in District 9, we try to make things quick and to the point. I think the mayor is embarrassed by the state of his District and does not want the cameras on us for too long. His plans seem to be working when he finishes in a record time.
Our District escort is just like our mayor, embarrassed to be here. I can't say we should be embarrassed of her. Compared to other escorts, Robyn is relatively normal. Still, she hates us so we hate her. She does not bother with introductions and she is right at the girls' ball.
Robyn's nails claw at the ball as she tries to extract a piece of paper. She finally snags one and unfolds it. "Almond Willows!" The name is vaguely familiar though I can't place her. I look other heads to find her. She is a normal looking girl with dark brown hair and normal height and weight. She doesn't look like she will last long.
District 9 gives the required applause before Robyn moves to the boys' ball. Like every year, my breath hitches a bit in fear. Not much scares me, but getting picked is something that shakes me to my core. I hate imagining my brother and mother getting along with out me if I lost.
"Nash Halder!"
I didn't know there was a greater fear than me getting picked. It looks like there is. I watch as Nash pushes past me to walk up to the stage. He tries to keep on his acting face, but I see the cracks easily. He is scared for his life, as am I.
"I volunteer!" I want to take it back. I don't want to take it back. If I really do want to take it back, my feet won't let me. I am already stalking up the steps to the stage, pushing past Nash like he had done to me moments ago. "I volunteer."
District 10 Raze Tanner's POV
I feel as if the blood drenching my gloves is a symbol of what is to come. The way I absent-mindedly just wipe it on to my overalls scares me, though I don't know why. Does this show how little amounts of compassion I possess? That is highly improbable. My levels of compassion would never sink low enough to condone the killing of a person and then wiping the blood off like it is just a bit of water.
Why am I sinking as low to volunteer for a game that does condone that?
Is it pride that is steering me in that direction? I never felt that I was one to have strong amount of pride, though I know everyone has some. No, I don't feel it is pride. Am I trying to prove something to someone? I feel that is a more justifiable answer.
The years of living under my brother's shadow have directly caused my personality in my opinion. Why try to be the best when someone is always going to be there to make sure their best is better? And why bother trusting people if almost everyone in this country is like that? I have never found the answers. My personality speaks for itself.
So, I wipe up the blood and call it a day. Not because I am not compassionate or uncaring. I do it because that is my job, to wipe of the blood and move on. You can't care for something that is already dead, though you can try. I kill the animal and I feel remorse, but it is never enough to bring it back to life.
I remove the gloves and overalls to show my Reaping clothes in all their faux glory. A fancy outfit for a not so fancy affair, how befitting. My mother would have had a heart attack if she had seen me bleeding a cow in my Reaping clothes. It would just be another thing to add to her list of reasons she is disappointed in my younger brother and I. I'm sure if Talos did it she would award him for his ability to not get a drop of blood on the outfit.
I walk out of the factory into the hazy daylight of District 10. The air even smells like death here, death of animals and people. So what if we make all the meat for the Capitol. We are hardly refurbished.
I follow the herd of people as they head to the square. I am just one in a crowd, nothing special or perfect. I am no Talos. Still, would Talos do what I am about to do? What would he do it for if he had the guts? But as I have said, I am no Talos Tanner.
I am just one of the norms.
Lyli Hyerman's POV
"This is so stupid," I grumble under my breath as me and my friends walk into the seventeen section. The area is already packed with kids sweating fear and just sweating. It is enough to make someone vomit from claustrophobia. I believe someone did last year.
"Every year," Jay says while shaking his head, but he is smiling. I love that he and Trome can put up with me every year. My opinions, if heard by anyone important, could get us all in trouble. I am so grateful for them.
"It wouldn't be a Reaping with out it," Trome says, slinging an arm around me. I do love him as a friend, but I have to shrug off his embrace. I hate it when anyone touches me when I don't tell them they can. It is part of my trusting issues.
"Point taken," Jay says, but he adds a sigh at the end of it. Unlike Trome, Reapings tend to put a damper on Jay's usually care-free attitude. His older sister had been reaped a few years before and didn't even make it past day two. She was stupid enough to start a fire at night.
Trome and I share a sympathetic look, but don't say anything. This is one of the rare times I don't try to voice my opinion. It doesn't matter anyhow. The Reaping is about to start. The microphone is being adjusted and the mayor is stepping up.
"Greetings District 10!" our mayor yells into the microphone. He only receives a muted response from everyone. We aren't people who celebrate sending children to their deaths. Still, our mayor tries to remain optimistic we will get a victor. We came close to the final eight last year.
The mayor keeps his annoyingly peppy attitude up until the very end. He hands the microphone over to our escort, who is much less happy to be in our District. She rattles a quick monologue before going to the first bowl. District 10 holds its breath as the slip is read. "Lyli Hyerman!"
Raging words of hate are the first things to pop in my mind, but my feet are moving anyway. My mouth remains closed and pursed as I reach my spot on stage. I feel my face growing redder as the audience clasp me into reality. I was just chosen as a tribute.
I don't notice anything else, but my own scornful thoughts at every eligible girl here until the escort is reading the next name. "Rex Isngard!"
Before the boy even gets up one step, a voice pronounces itself. "I volunteer." The boy doesn't even wait for the new tribute to emerge. He is back in his area at the speed of light, maybe faster. I don't care for him though. I want to see the boy who thinks he is tough enough to volunteer.
I train my eyes on huge black boy emerging from my area. I remember him slightly from classes. All I remember is how much he got bullied for his color. Great, I have gotten stuck with an emotionally scarred boy.
If only sour words could get me out of this because I have plenty.
District 11 Tawncy Moriatri's POV
"Can we move it along please?" I snap a bit cruelly as my sister drags her feat against the dusty road. My sister's head snaps up quickly, a look of alarm on her face. She knows well enough what I am like when I am angry. Not because I let that side out on her, but because she is around when it happens.
"I don't want to go to the Reaping," she mutters under her breath. It is so typical of Tanya to not want to go to the Reaping. She has done this for the last two years. I think it is just nerves. I am the one who usually has to calm her down if she really panics.
I don't believe in the Reapings if that makes sense. I feel they are just a waste of time. There are so many kids in our District; the odds of getting picked are extremely slim. So what if some kids are bought out of the Reaping? That is just a sliver of the child population, if it is that much. There are way too many kids to get freaked out, end of story.
"You are worrying for nothing. You know the odds of us getting picked are slim, even with the tessereas. Don't get yourself worked up for nothing. It is all just hype," I explain, my voice edged with annoyance. I love my littler sister, but her childish worries irate me to no end.
"Hi Tawncy!" I turn to see a girl from school waving to me. I wave back with a light smile which satisfies the girl. She walks off with a smile of her own to catch up with a group of girls also in my grade. I drop my hand and turn back to Tanya, who gives me an astonished look.
"I didn't know you had any friends." It was a bold statement, one I wouldn't let anyone, but Tanya get away with. I am not sensitive about my lack of friends. It is actually quite the opposite. I just hate when people point things out about me like they know me. Some people are very thick headed like that.
"She isn't my friend. I don't even know her name," I tell Tanya, giving a quick glance back to where the girl had been standing. I try my best to recall her name, but nothing comes. I don't picture her as someone important considering her friends wouldn't even wait for her. That is one of the many reasons I keep to myself and stay independent. People aren't to be trusted. A perfect example would be that fact she trusted I liked her when I waved back.
"Then why did you wave to her and look all happy to see her?" Tanya inquires, not grasping the situation well. After years of living under the same roof, you would think she knows my natural flair for acting.
"I lied, no big deal," I say with a shrug and continue walking in the direction of the square. Yes, lying is just that easy to me. However, I prefer to call it acting. I act like I don't care about anything. I act like I am the cruelest person in the country sometimes. I act like I am the most caring. I can act a lot.
I can say one truthful thing about myself: I don't take things lying down.
Arin Anders's POV
I kept my arms tightly around my chest as I watch the heard file into their pens. No, that is not a literal statement. Still, every year I think the same. We all look like lost, confused cows of District 10, trying to make sense of it all as we are pushed into areas for each age group.
The thought that I used to find this whole thing somewhat enjoyable sickens me to know end. How could the thought of two kids being forced to their deaths be at all fun? However, I forgive myself slightly. That was when I had Aria. Everything was better when she was here.
Standing amongst my classmates, loneliness is a common feeling. Yes, they understand hardship and loss. I'm sure at least a quarter of their parents have been killed by the Peacekeepers. Yet, I don't feel they understand my pain. Deep down, I know they would, but I don't have the heart to tell anyone, even my best and only friend Epiphany.
The mayor taps at the microphone to silence the crowd even though we were already quiet. District 11 does not tend to be a rowdy crowd. We are so tired and sleep-deprived; talking is a luxury for when we have enough energy. The mayor smiles whole-heartedly at his weak District and speeds through the History and Victor List.
My feeling of resentment shines through as our escort takes the stage. Besides District 10, I blame the Capitol for Aria's premature death. If there was no Capitol, there would be no Games. But that is a fool's dream. I like to think of myself as more sensible than that.
The escort is at the female ball and clawing for a name. The names in there are only a small portion of our District. Families save up their money all year to buy their child's name out of the balls. It was an illegal practice, but the Capitol turns a blind eye on it as long as they get a boy and a girl to compete. My family isn't so fortunate. My name is in that ball a good thirty times.
"Tawncy Moriatri!" A few kids behind me snicker immaturely into their hands at the name. I recognize it vaguely, but names like that will always sound familiar. A small fifteen year old mounts the stage with what seems like a strong sense of purpose. She is cute with long black hair and girlish features, but nothing that will get older tributes looking twice. Despite her innocent appearance, there is something unsettling about her, but I can't pin point it.
The lady does not even bother asking for applause and the Tawncy girl only gets a weak clap that I don't bother joining in for. I just wait patiently for the boys' drawing. I feel Epiphany growing restless beside me. She knows how many times my name is in there just like I know her name wasn't in the ball at all.
"And your male tribute is…Arin Anders!" Utterly brilliant, it is just so utterly brilliant. I don't know how they do it, but somehow the Capitol has screwed me over even more so. It is really just brilliant. I walk up the stage with a disbelieving grin. I think I am in denial.
The audience gives me a bit more applause than Tawncy. It may be that I am bigger than her and seem to stand more of a chance. Either way, I ignore the noise completely. Inside, the denial is fading a full blown freak out commences.
Come on Arin, you are stronger than that.
I must be really crazy. I would recognize that voice anywhere. It is the voice of Aria.
District 12 Azrael Lupin's POV
Kill or be killed.
Be killed or kill.
Live or die.
Words of wisdom. Yes, those are my words of wisdom. Isn't that what it all boils down to in the simplest form of the meaning of life? It is kill or be killed. Live free or die. I, the Angel of Death, would think so.
Who needs a family? Who needs a home? Who needs anything? You just need your smarts and a healthy level of sanity.
Or insanity, whatever works.
I have no family. They died in an unfortunate fire. Of course, it was only unfortunate for them. I don't have a home. No worries, I like to call my strategy of living, improvising. I really don't have anything. What would I possibly need? I know everything I need to know. I have lived off of a special meat my whole life.
But the special meat is hard to come by most of the time. I walk back towards the gate of District 12, masking my footsteps. I pull my face mask down. It is too risky to go out with my face bearing its scars. I reach the gate, but I turn left before slipping under. I must pay my respects to my master.
"My dark lord, I will destroy these tributes in these Games. You will have more souls to take," I whisper to the tree I marked with ashes and blood. I feel my soul burn as I stand up. Yes, I will get in the Games.
You see, people are so stupid when the night comes. It is so easy just to walk into the mayor's house and replace all the names in the ball with my own name. I feel volunteering would make me a target. I need to look like a poor boy with no home. My ill-fed body and mask should do that well enough.
I slip under the fence and start my walk to the square. I feel so filled with joy. For once, I will not be killing to live. I will be killing for him. For once, I can just enjoy the murder without worrying about the cleaning and such.
Because, all work and no play makes Azrael a sane boy.
Vina Renna's POV
Mala squirms beside me, fidgeting with the dress I made her wear. I subconsciously swat her hand down as I always do. "Stop fidgeting. It makes you look nervous," I mutter to her. I don't know if she heard me amongst the shouts of the crowd, but I see her nod out of the corner of my eye. That is the only response I get.
"You know, the odds are okay for us and all. I mean, the Seam kids have it much worse than us if you think about it. We should be happy Dad has the day off and all," I continue at rapid pace. I tend to speed up when I am talking if I get nervous. I don't feel nervous and I'm not showing it, but there are always those feelings lurking in the back of mind about getting reaped.
"I know Vina," Mala says to stop me, offering a light smile. I am used to Mala's quiet attitude, but on Reaping Day I find it slightly unsettling. I am determined not to let my feelings get the best of me and I hate it that Mala can do it with such ease. Here I am rattling off reasons we won't get picked while she already knows them.
I open my mouth to respond, but Mayor Underseer is at the microphone. The crowd goes quiet and he begins the long History of Panem. Most of us can recite the thing by heart, but it is required reading. I try to remain attentive during the History, but it is a bore. Finally, the Victor list is read.
District 12 does not have winning ready Hunger Games victors to spare, but we have managed four. The last victor was pretty recent. Storm Loret stands up for his applause. I always hate seeing him around town. He always looks so depressed, like he is going to kill himself. I can't wrap my mind around why he is still holding on to his dead love.
The microphone is handed over to a more gleeful Effie. I still remember the days she used to hate District 12. Who could really blame her? As I've said, we don't breed victors here. However, due to our more recent success in victors and securing spots in the final eight, she is more elated.
Effie takes the time for her usual spiel before moving to the female ball. Everyone holds their breath as she draws out a tiny slip of paper. Effie keeps us in suspense for a moment longer as she reads the name. The Seam kids must be dying of dread. "Vina Renna!"
Me. She just called my name, Not a Seam kid's name, but my name. The feelings I kept so carefully hidden in the back of my mind our now crashing over my whole mind in giant waves. I just hope they don't release tears. I walk up the stage, not holding my breath for a volunteer.
"Congratulations Vina!" Effie exclaims. I accept my applause, but not whole-heartedly. I know they are all thankful they or their children were not chosen. I was just a sacrifice. I try to avoid catching Mala's eyes, but I find myself looking over in her direction multiple times.
"Now for the boys!" Effie takes less time finding a name in the boys' ball. She snatches a piece of paper and reads it with her signature dramatic flair. "Azrael Lupin!"
I don't let my draw drop to the ground in horror. That would not be respectful. But oh how I want to. Everyone knows the Lupin kid. Half the District thinks he is insane while the other half just doesn't know what to think. I think he is a basket case. How many rumors are passed around about him, I don't know.
I just know that I have never been more scared in my life.
…
What do you think of this set? Any stand-outs? As I've said before, I am not giving every bit of information about your tribute away yet. However, if the character is off, please tell me. I based Azrael heavily off of main Shining character, Jack Torrance. I won't be using the book for him the whole time. I just used it as a base.
District 14 is next which means Reapings are almost over! If I can, I will try to finish it tonight. Reviews make my day. Peace, Love, and All That Jazz.
-Emma