District One Female
Divine, 16
Rays from the rising morning sun pour into the room through Divine's open window, warming her face and filling her small dorm with light. She would normally be awake by this time, doing her morning exercises, but the trainers must have let her sleep in this morning. A nice gesture, she supposes.
Divine rises, stretching her tired muscles and padding over to her small dresser. Inside are two clean training uniforms, a nightgown, and a bag of toiletries; her only worldly possessions. She pulls the nightgown over her naked body, grabs the toiletries, and heads down the hall to shower.
The shower room is large and entirely open, with mirrors covering the walls from floor to ceiling. She vaguely remembers the anxiety of her first couple showers here, back before the trainers erased any trace of body shame from her. They made sure stripping down in front of strangers is as natural for her as breathing, and she does so now without hesitation. The water is icy cold, so Divine washes herself as quickly as she can. It's a strange sensation, still, lifting her newly large breasts to scrub the skin underneath. She had always been flat chested, all the curves the trainers wanted, but no breasts to speak of, until they pulled her out of training a month ago and put her under in the medical wing. She woke up three cup sizes larger and with eyes three times greener. All the girls in the Academy who make it to fifteen get body enhancements, because those not going into the arena get sold to the highest bidder in the Capitol. The better the body, the higher the price, so the Academy goes all out on the enhancements to rake in the maximum profit.
She shuts off the shower and stands there for a moment, shivering and staring at her reflection in the mirror. She's gorgeous, the prettiest her age, with perfectly balanced features and long strawberry locks. Naturally, her hair is more of a soft honey blond, but the trainers decided she looked too much like the most recent female victor from One, Cashmere, and dyed it to give it a reddish hue. They insisted the alteration would help her stand out, make her look like something fresh and new in the eyes of the Capitol, but it's only been two years since One's back-to-back victories in the 63rd and 64th. The demand for yet another victor from One is going to be slim to none this year, and there's nothing Divine or the trainers can do about it. She has resigned herself to the fact that she is going into the arena to die. It's not an uncommon attitude for the female tributes from One to have. They all know damn well by the Reaping that whatever awaits them in the arena has nothing on what happens after the victory trumpets.
Someone approaches from behind her. Divine turns around to face her sister, Mina. They're calling her Sequin now, she's heard. That's... well, she's heard the Academy give worse names, but it's still not great. It doesn't sound right for her. She's too soft, her cheeks still round with youth, for something that sounds so sharp and snappy - though, Divine notices, she has a hard look in her eyes, cold and unfamiliar.
It's been three years since they've last spoken, and Sequin feels like a stranger. Attachment to others is frowned on in the Academy, so shortly after the girls were selected they had agreed it would be best to avoid each other. Saying goodbye had been like cutting out a piece of her heart, and as Divine now looks at her sister, she feels a strange phantom pain in her chest.
"Hey, Bean." Divine says, though she knows she shouldn't. An old childhood nickname like that is definitely off limits, but a sadistic part of her wants to see how her sister reacts.
The effect is immediate. Sequin tenses, her nose crinkling. "Don't call me that," She hisses. "Don't make this harder than it already is. Don't try and make me start to miss you right before I have to say goodbye."
That stings, more than it should. Sweet little Mina is dead after all, gone and buried like Hannah before her. Now, there is only Sequin and Divine. Strangers.
Divine takes her time wrapping herself in a towel before responding. "We said goodbye a long time ago, Sequin. We don't need to do this."
"I know. I have something to give you before you go. For your token." Sequin offers her hand, where a simple black cord choker rests in her palm. Divine doesn't recognize it at first, but then it clicks; this belonged to their mother. It's of no particular value, but neither of them have seen her for years. Careers aren't supposed to have families or a past before the Academy, so contact with outsiders is forbidden for trainees. Divine takes the gift, running her still-wet fingers over the leather.
"How did you even get this?"
"Not important." Sequin says. "I came here to tell you to win. They said they'd let me out if you do, no strings attached."
Divine forgets all about the necklace in her hand. Her eyes shoot up, meeting Sequin's for the first time. She searches them, trying to figure out if this is some sick joke or twisted lie. All she can detect is honesty, and a hint of desperation.
"Bullshit." Divine snaps. "They took Gloss the year after Cashmere. Why would you be any different?"
"I've heard rumors about it happening before," Sequin insists. "Praise told me his mom got out after her sister won."
"But he still ended up in the Academy, didn't he?" Divine says, though she knows she's in the wrong. It's different for boys - for them, the Academy is an honor, not a life sentence. One or two of the prettiest ones might get sold, but the rest who aren't good enough for the games just spend a decade in the penal mines and get to live the rest of their lives as free men.
Sequin glares. "Why are you arguing with me? You want to win, don't you?"
Divine pauses, and ponders. The Academy has given her the skills to survive what she encounters in the arena and what inevitably comes after, when she will be at the mercy of any Capitol pervert who has the cash to borrow her for the night. But does she want to win, to live? Is a life in slavery a life at all, or would she be better off dying in the arena, while her body still belongs to her?
It doesn't matter, she decides. She's screwed either way, but Sequin still has a chance, slim as it may be. Divine will do everything in her power to make sure Sequin never has to suffer the same fate as countless girls before her.
"Of course," Divine says. "And if it saves you, even better, I guess."
There's a pregnant pause. Sequin makes a pained expression and steps forward - for a terrified second Divine thinks she's going to hug her - before turning quickly, leaving without another word.
District One Male
Blaze, 17
Twenty-three, twenty-four...
Blaze's muscles scream for release, but he holds, searching his body for the strength to heave his chin up over the bar one last time. He's got it in him, somewhere, he just has to find it, ignore the pain, and rise above.
He pulls himself up one last time. Then his hands release the bar, his feet dropping onto the mat below. Clenching and unclenching his cramped fingers, he sits down on the bench and takes a swig from his water bottle. The ache in his arms and shoulders begins to recede.
Blaze is the strongest tribute in his age group, by far. Best with weapons, too. Seven years of training, and he is one of the finest volunteers the Academy has ever produced. He is confident in his abilities, but skill isn't everything when it comes to the games. There are so many variables - the arena, the traps, the other tributes, to name a few - that he can't possibly prepare for all of them. He wishes he had another year to train and prepare, maybe learn some more strategy, but that choice isn't his to make. Besides, his sister may not have that long.
It's been three years, to the day, since he's last seen or heard from Starshine. She, and all the other sixteen-year-old girls who didn't make tribute that year, left the Academy after the Reaping. Before she went, she pulled Blaze aside and told him the truth about the Academy. The girl washouts don't just get to go home to their mommies and daddies; they get sold into the sex trade to be owned and used by any Capitol man who can afford them. That was a lot for him to take in at fourteen, but still she continued, explaining that Blaze would probably suffer the same fate if he washed out, due to his extraordinary looks.
"That's why you have to be the best." Starshine had told him, her bright green eyes filled with fear. "You have to be the chosen volunteer, and you have to win. That's the only way you can be safe. Promise me you'll do it, Blaze."
He had promised her, and he worked his ass off and beat out every single person in his age group to make it to the top, but not without realizing something along the way. Starshine had lied to him. Becoming a victor didn't just mean winning a shiny crown, like the Academy had always told them; it meant owing a debt to the Academy, to his sponsors, and to the Capitol that he would be paying off for years, until his body was no longer desired and there were fresh, new victors to take his place. But it also meant he was protected, unlike the trafficked Academy washouts who are expendable enough that a couple can fall through the cracks every year without so much as a whisper of protest. That's why Starshine had urged him to aim for volunteer. If he wins, it will be a better fate than he would have as a washout. And if he loses... well, it will be a quick end, compared to a life in sexual servitude.
Losing means never seeing Starshine again, and that isn't an option. As a victor, he could use what little favor he had to free his sister. That has been his goal these past years, his single driving force; he has to save her.
A presence by his side snaps him out of his contemplation. He looks up and, seeing it is a trainer, stands immediately.
"It's time, Blaze." She says. "Come with me, we need to get you ready."
District One Female
Divine, 16
Divine spends the next hour getting her hair and makeup done by Capitol-trained stylists. They're more heavy handed with the makeup than what she's used to in image training, but it's not unbearable, and the result is stunning. Then, they squeeze her into her Reaping dress. It's black and glittering, barely grazing the top of her thighs, with quarter-length sleeves and a deep neckline that puts her ample cleavage on display.
The train ride from the Academy to the Justice Building is short, and when they arrive, it's a couple minutes past seven. Divine signs in and heads to the section marked for sixteen-year-olds. Behind her, a non-career complains loudly to her friend how early in the morning it is, and Divine sneaks a glance over her shoulder to look at her. She's pretty, and from her clothes Divine can tell she is also rich. She probably has an influential parent who's in good with the Academy, because there's no other way she'd avoid being selected.
Divine looks away, clenching her fists. She was that girl, once, for a short time. Her father had been an influential man in the district, until her mother had gotten him executed. The moment he was out of the picture, the Academy had swooped in, snatching up Divine and her sister. Too pretty for their own good, Mom had said. She would know; she'd been selected, too, and after she washed out she spent years being sold in the Capital before their father had bought and married her.
"Attention, attention."
The speakers project the escort's voice across the crowd. Divine listens throughout the speech, but it's the same thing from last year. And every year she can remember. Finally, they get to the good part, and the name is picked.
"Melanie Markham." The escort calls, and the loudmouth from earlier sucks in a shocked breath. How ironic. They then ask for volunteers, and Divine debates dragging it out, just so she can enjoy watching this brat panic, but decides against it.
"I volunteer!" She cries out, clear and confident, like she has practiced countless times. She gives the camera her best smile and saunters onto the stage, taking her place beside the escort.
"Oh, aren't you beautiful!" The escort says, like she's never seen a tribute from One before in her life. "And what is your name?"
"Divine." Divine says sweetly. Her eyes meet the camera briefly, a suggestive smirk on her lips. The Capitol will eat that shit up.
"Well, isn't that just - well, divine!" The escort says, and laughs at her own horrible joke. Divine is playing the dumb whore role, District One's specialty, so of course she giggles along with her. She imagines the sponsors salivating and opening up their wallets. Concentrating on how this will help her in the arena later makes it almost bearable.
District One Male
Blaze, 17
Divine plays her part like a professional. Every aspect of her pristine image, from the way she stands and smiles to her little black heels, screams sex. It's so convincing, Blaze almost wonders if it isn't all an act. Of course, no sixteen-year-old girl would willingly and happily strut herself around like that, showing off her body like it's for sale - though, in this case, it is - and even though he sees it every year, it still makes him sick to his stomach. She shouldn't have to do this.
"And now; the boys." The escort trills, dipping a sparkly clawed hand into the second bowl. She unfolds it and reads the name. "Travis Duncan!"
Blaze keeps his eyes planted firmly on the stage, in case the camera catches his face as it pans down to view Glint, standing directly on Blaze's left. It's weird to hear his birth name after so many years of knowing him as Glint. Really, it's always strange when someone from the Academy is called, and even more so when they're standing right next to the chosen volunteer. What are the odds?
The escort calls for volunteers. Loud and clear, Blaze answers: "I volunteer!"
That's all there is, only two words. No countdown, no gong, but it feels like the games have begun all the same.
District One Female
Divine, 16
Divine sits alone in the Justice Building room, reclined on a velvet couch with her bare feet resting on the coffee table. Her high heels were taken off and thrown onto an armchair the moment the doors closed behind her. She picks at the lacquer finish of an end table to her left with a perfectly manicured finger. It comes off in satisfying little chunks, but the small act of vandalism isn't enough to keep her mind off her loneliness.
She had hoped her mother would visit, but as the minutes go by that seems less and less likely. There's so much Divine would say to her if she had the chance. Nothing nice, though, probably. But as the minutes go by, any hope of a visitation seems less and less likely.
Just as she finishes coming to terms with the fact that some things are better left unsaid, the door opens.
It's Mom. Who else would it be? With conflicting feelings of rage, nausea, and confusion bubbling up inside her, she holds her mothers gaze and tries to look stronger than she feels.
"You'd better make it quick." Divine says. Her eyes flick over to the clock, and back to her mother. "You've got a little more than a minute. Couldn't make up your mind if you wanted to come or not?"
"No, I couldn't," Mom answers. The door closes behind her, but she just stands there, looking at her. "Snow, you grew up beautiful. I'm sorry."
"For?"
Mom frowns. "You know what I mean, Hannah."
Divine can tell her mother is trying, she really is, but Divine is having none of it. "Yeah, I do. Sorry for giving birth to me, and what else?"
"This is about him. Your father." Mom says, like it physically pains her to say it. "He was a terrible, terrible man, Divine. You know that."
"I do." Divine sits up, resting her elbows on her knees. "Just like you knew what consequences his death would have for Mina and I. He was the only thing standing between us and the Academy, and you framed him for treason."
"I don't regret what I did! He deserved everything he got, and more! The things he did... I had to put an end to it!" Mom cried in her defense, tears spilling over. "You don't know what it was like!"
"But I might soon!" Divine hollers, standing abruptly. "And Mina, too! You stupid bitch, don't you realize that? You saved yourself, but you damned the both of us!"
Mom flinches backwards like Divine might hit her. She wants to, she really does, but all the anger in the world couldn't blind her to the fact that her mother truly is sorry. Not for what she did, but for how it hurt her children.
Divine doesn't know what she expected. An apology? It's too late for that now, anyway. It doesn't matter. Time runs out. Her mother leaves.
District One Male
Blaze, 17
Blaze had been on good terms with his parents when he left for the Academy, but it's been seven years, and he understands that they don't want to see who (or what) he has become. It's fine. A lot of careers don't get visitors, anyway.
If he's being honest, there's only one person he really wants to see, but that's not possible. At least, not yet.
So he sits alone, trying his best not to think about what lies ahead.
A/N:
It took a while (almost three months!) but I finally managed to update my story! I will have another one posted sometime this summer - maybe two, if we're lucky. So far, my desire to sit around and do nothing all summer has defeated any ambition I may have had to finish this story in a timely manner. That's just how it is.
Blaze was submitted by FrlBarth, and Divine (whose backstory I rewrote) was submitted by ilookhotinblack.