Good News Mostly:
SYOT! SYOT! Submit Your Own Tribute! This is what this is called! I feel kind of thick now, but oh well.
We've also reached the 18 tribute mark! The rest are bloodbath tributes, I'm afraid.
I really hope the chapter length is long enough, I think it's a tad short, but I'm figuring maybe 4 short POVs for each chapter? Or 2 longer ones? Oh the indescision is killing me. PM or review (the latter?!) what you think, because Yours Truly has no clue. Thanks for reading and everything. :)
*WentToTheMoonToday
...
Bronte Pratt, District Six
No one is looking. I'm on my own here. I slip out my sketch pad and flip to the drawing I've been working on. It shows several people, all standing around, and arms on shoulders, carefree. It's based on a photo I took a while ago. On the coarse paper, five figures are mapped out, with a faint scrawl as to who they are. The tallest are at each end, the smallest in the middle. Zand, Lenz, Tawni, Rhina, and me. I wouldn't call them true friends, but they mean something to me.
As I begin sketching out Zand's pleasant features, I feel the presence of someone behind me. I slam the cover shut and ram the pad under my bed. I spin around angrily. "What the hell are you doing here?!" Shock and embarrassment make me mean and heartless, I know that.
Tawni looks at me surprised. "Um... I was just going to ask when you wanted to sort out the Reaping clothes." She peers at me suspiciously. "Were you drawing? Because, that would be, like, so lame." She flicks her perfect blonde hair.
I laugh; a touch nervously. "No! I was just... finishing some work which I haven't got round to doing yet. Obviously."
Tawni doesn't look convinced, but seeing as half of her mind is fixated on herself and popularity, she dismisses it. I'll have to be more careful in the future if I want to stay at the top of the school food chain.
While I'm thinking, Tawni has already managed to empty half of my wardrobe. She wonders out loud, flinging clothes onto two messy piles. "This? No, it looks so old. If we paired this little number with this we could have something there. And this piece of junk, well Bronte, I'm surprised you haven't already chucked it in the bin."
I don't really mind Tawni's opinion. I don't especially value it, but Dad works for the Capitol. He gets a generous salary, and I get a generous wardrobe of clothes.
I've been trying to distract myself from the thought of the Reaping. Although my chances of getting picked are slim (no tesserea here) the mere thought of the Hunger Games sends a small chill through my spine.
Aden "Red-Haired" Hanran, District Eight
I trace circles on Lena's rounded tummy and smile at her. Colin and Adalin are in there, somewhere, just waiting to be released into the world. Not that it's a particularly nice world, full of needless bloodshed and violence. In fact, it would almost be nicer if the two twins stayed in Lena's womb in an eternal embrace. I can feel my train of thought drifting away and tried to stay on Earth.
"Our last Reaping," Lena says tenderly, "then we can settle down, without the worry of the Hunger Games at our throat." Sunlight drifts through the window to settle on her sun kissed blonde hair.
It's a peaceful, beautiful scene, but I can't help forget that we probably can't settle down after this. I am a rebel leader, and I work with rebels every day. We hate what the Capitol does, and we vow to change it. Unfortunately, this life is not peaceful and settled, and possibly never will be. Colin and Adalin will be born into a fragile society, all of the Districts just on the brink of rebellion.
Lena is looking at me - concerned. It then occurs to me that I haven't spoken for several minutes. She smoothes out my clean grey shirt and struggles to stand, her bump obstructing her movements. "Honestly, I'll be glad when these two twins come out!" She jokes and I chuckle lightly. There is only one month left before she is due to give birth. Once this year's game's end, then we can relax a little, work out what to do with the rest of our life together.