Laurel Stitch

Laurel didn't want to go to the Reaping. Ten years ago, her sister had been reaped at fifteen, the age Laurel was now. Her mother had told her that she and her sister looked so much alike, so going this year made her feel like her sister's ghost. Even her reaping dress made her feel that way. A cream and white cotton dress that made her pale skin seem even more so. The only difference between Laurel and Holly was that Laurel's hair was much darker, chocolate brown compared to Holly's blonde.

"Don't you look nice." Said Laurel's friend Tobias, as they entered the square of Eight. She really wasn't in the mood for company today, even from Tobias. She slid through the crowd to her spot, just wanting to get the day over with.

Pomeline, Eight's escort, came onto the stage without an introduction from Mayor Asterway. The mayor was never very outspoken, so it was easy to say he couldn't compete with Pomeline. "Welcome, District Eight, to the Reaping for the 100th Annual Hunger Games. Let's get started with the ladies." Laurel watched as Pomeline, the woman who had taken away her sister, pulled the first name from the ball. "Our first female tribute…is Laurel Stitch."

Of course it is.

Sarah Beta

Sarah didn't belong here. She should have been back in Seven with the rest of her family. But her mother had dragged her, along with her sisters Tiffany, Natalie, and her brother Ulysses, with her while she toured Eight. Sarah knew none of the people in this crowd. This district wasn't her home, and yet she was here in the Reaping. She was worried about Natalie, who was the most likely of the three girls to end up a Tribute. What would happen if Natalie had to compete for Eight, and not Seven? No one in Seven would sponsor her, because she was a tribute for eight, and no one in Eight would sponsor her, because she was the girl from Seven. If Natalie was reaped, she'd be doomed. In Sarah's thoughts, she missed the escort drawing the next name.

"Miss Sarah Beta. Come forward miss Beta." Scratch that. Sarah was doomed.

Cicenna Arlenos

Cicenna recognized the girl. She was with the Capitol woman who had moved to Seven. Her daughter? Could the Capitol do that? Reap a girl from a different district? Cicenna figured that they'd still have to go to the Reapings. The girl would still have to participate. But this was cruel. No one in Eight would sponsor her. She'd be dead right away, as small as she was. Cicenna felt bad for her.

She watched Pomeline walk back over to the reaping ball after getting the Capitol girl into place. She pulled the third slip, and even before Pomeline announced the name, Cicenna knew who she was about to reap.

"Cicenna Arlenos." Cicenna released her breath and walked to the stage, certain this would be her last time in Eight.

Marcell Owens

As the three girls were huddled to the corner of the stage where they kept the important people in the Reaping. They stood by the mayor, and next to him was Isabelle, the District Mentor. She wasn't a winner, but Eight hadn't won once since the Rebellion. Isabelle was the daughter of Cecilia, Eight's most recent winner, who died twenty-five years ago. She knew the games better than nearly everyone in Eight, so until there was a new Victor, the job of mentor had been given to her. Marcell was good at noticing these small details. It was the only thing slightly remarkable about her; her memory and eye for detail.

"Our last female tribute; Miss Marcell Owens." It'd have to be the thing to keep her alive.

Ellias Mirones

Ellias waited impatiently for the Reaping to end. His sister, one of the few people excused from the reaping, was at home right now. She was sick, and Ellias's family had nowhere ear the money to cure her. They could only buy her time by selling Ellias's extra tesserae for the money to buy treatment. The owner of the apothecary said she had about a month left, and it wouldn't be pleasant. What they needed was money.

Ellias suddenly knew what he had to do to save Ella. When Pomeline drew the first name from the boys' ball, Ellias said his silent goodbye to Ella, in case he failed.

"Logan Jeri…"

"I volunteer," shouted Ellias.

Guerard Willam

Guerard watched the younger kid volunteer as the first tribute for the guys. He couldn't imagine ever having the guts to volunteer, to willingly offer yourself up for the slaughter, with barely any hope of survival. It had been years since there had been a volunteer from Eight, and even then the kid had been looking for a way to die, not a way to win. It was easy to say Guerard couldn't find one good thing about the Hunger Games.

Pomeline stood at the podium with the name of the second male tribute. And Guerard was hoping with everything he had that he was safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

"Guerard Willam." Dead. Dead. Dead.

Carsander Amell

Carsander was in shock. Guerard was his friend, and he was going to the games. Sander knew Guerard had what it took to survive, but would he be able to kill. There was no way to sugar coat it. To come back home, the winning tribute had to become a murderer, and there was no way around it. He hated Pomeline, and all of the Capitol in this moment, for taking Guerard.

He watched Pomeline pull the third name from the Reaping ball. When she returned to the stand, she called out, loudly, "Carsander Amell."

Well, crap.

Alaric Nevynne

"And finally, our last male tribute this year is…" Pomeline picked the last slip of paper from deep in the Reaping ball. She hurried it back to the microphone and called out the name excitedly. "Alaric Nevynne."

Alaric froze in place. It was his name. He didn't want to move. To move would be admitting to himself that he was a tribute, and he didn't want to do that. Instead he waited for the Peacekeepers to come for him, and he let them lead him from the crowd to the stage. He climbed the steps alone, shrugging away from Pomeline's attempt to help him. She was clueless. Did she really think anyone cared if she was nice? She was happy about her job, a job that would only work out if you were completely messed up in the head. He took his places with the other tributes, suddenly wondering who would want to come say goodbye to him.

"Well there you have it. Your tributes of District Eight!" called Pomeline, before she led them into the Justice Building.