Galena Ambrosia
District 2 Female
18 Years Old.
So it's been, and shall be weighed:
though many are born, few are "made".
Faithful Always, they shall remain…
dogs to loose when war is waged.
"The Devil whispered to me, "You can't withstand the storm." I replied, "Guess what, I'm the storm."
No child should be left for their own. I make a point of it, looking for hidden children in the allies, trying to make sure they would go to the orphanage. I understood them of all people.
14 Years Ago.
A scream came from above Galena's bed. She was snuggled up, tucked under her quilted blankets. Her large, brown eyes blinked open to see her mother hanging over her. Another scream sounded from her mouth.
"MARCUS!" Valerie, Galena's birth mother screamed.
Marcus, Galena's birth father and the mayor of District 2 came running.
He just stared.
Her mother's arms picked her up, holding her out in front of her and ran. Towards the front door. As soon as the door was open and the stars exposed to the Mayor's house, Galena was tossed out, landing with a thud and immediately becoming unconscious.
2 Years After…
"We aren't going to hurt you dear." A man's voice said. His arms cupped around her, similar to how her mother had picked her up that day. Except it was warm. It showed ardor, passion.
Galena was brought to his home, and it became her home. Galena and her 2 fathers, Mason and Viktor. Her family.
Present Day.
"Galena are you sure." My father, Viktor.
"Yes dad, I need to. You didn't sign me up to train for no reason."
"We did, but it wasn't this reason Galena." Mason butted in.
"It was to protect you in case you got Reaped."
Galena became quiet and searched her mind for ideas. There was a reason she was going to volunteer, and it was because of her skin. All across her dark, chocolaty skin, she had white patches. She didn't know if they were random or a birth defect. Maybe her mother drank when she was pregnant. But that didn't matter, and she loved her skin.
"Maybe I don't need protection." She whispered.
The reason she was volunteering was because of the chosen volunteer. Gloria Styx.
Her birth sister.
Dax Demos
18 years Old
District 2.
Rising up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
"How do you expect to win the games if you can't do a split?" My best friend, Paige asks me. She falls into a middle split, and puts her arms up in exaggeration.
I roll my eyes. Paige is my opposite. She's a complete chatterbox and i'm… well, i'm more of the silent type.
"I'm pretty sure you're an alien Paige…" I mutter, and sit down on my knees. The training room floor is hard, and the room is packed. Everybody is training. I should be training as I am supposed to volunteer tomorrow. The girl volunteer, Gloria Styx was across the room, using a katana, sparring against a trainer. She was good, really good.
Gloria catches my glance and struts over to me. She obviously was trying to impress me.
"Hey Dax. Ready for tomorrow?" She purrs.
"Ya…" I mumble. "You?"
"Ha! I was born ready." She walked closer to me, and puts her hand on my chest. I was at least 5 inches taller and I have to look down at her. " Gloria stares up at me through her large, green-gold eyes. Her chocolate hair flutters around her tan shoulders and she smiles. Then her face hardens, sultry almost. "We're going to ally, right?"
"Erm… sure."
She smiles again, and looks satisfied. Then she bounces away.
I see Paige, still in the splits, watching Gloria walk away.
"You're going to ally with that...well… use your imagination." Paige says in a commanding tone.
"Probably not, but what was I going say."
Paige just frowns, but then brightens up.
"Try it." She says, actually commanding me this time.
"Try what?" I shoot back.
"Do a split."
I tilt my head and let out a single chuckle. "No."
She sighs. "YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE." and she falls back onto the ground, moving her legs out of split position. Paige had always been good at gymnastics, probably because she never trains when she is supposed to.
Paige pushes herself into a backbend and kicks over. It looks like she is a contortionist.
When she lands, she sits criss cross. "Do you really have to go Dax?"
"Ya."
"Do you actually think you're going to win?"
My face hardens. I needed her support.
"There are 24 of you… only 2 come out, and with your luck, you will probably get stuck with a 12 year old partner."
And when I needed her the most, she wasn't there.
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