Thanks to all the people who sent in more tributes! I need no more! Also, I will write the Tribute Parade and the Private sessions in front of the Gamemakers in the POV of the head Gamemaker! I will do another SYOT when I have finished this one, so if you wan to, you can reserve a spot! Disclaimer: I really wish I owned The Hunger Games, but I don't! I also don't own most of these characters!
***Kestrel Ravenheart's POV***
I can't believe he would do something like this. Boss is meant to volunteer, not me! NOT me! But I have to do it. I have to. I know I'm nearly seventeen, I know that. But it's not my place to volunteer! Especially when I know the Boss can win! I growl at nothing under my breath, and Lillicon squirms in her sleep. She's so pure! How could such an innocent creature be destroyed by Boss's wrath? He's good enough to be in the Games! I know it! He could win! But i have to do this. For Clove. Somehow avenge her death, her death that that Katniss Everdeen played a major part in. Katniss makes me sick. No one good ever wins the Games, and Katniss Everdeen is a good example of that. I look up to the ceiling, in the room I share with my baby sister, Lillicon, and think about what my absence would mean for my family. If I don't win, that will mean one less mouth to feed, but also one less person providing for my family. I think about my little sister, and tears spring in my eyes. She never even got to meet Lillicon. Ugh. I have to stop thinking of my sisters, and think about my strategy for the Games. Mum and Dad have no idea I'm supposed to be volunteering, and I don't plan on telling them anytime soon, because I know it'd scare them, especially because of the reason. I don't want to do that. The last thing I want to do is freak out my parents. Especially after all they've done for me. I walk up to the box holding my clothes, and pick out my best clothes, which aren't much. Living in a career District doesn't promise you riches. If I win, my family's troubles will be over. Forever. I want that so bad. The only thing that being a victor won't guarantee is keeping Lillicon out of the Games. That's the only thing I want guaranteed. After Clove died in the Games... Well, I don't want another family member dying because of the Capitol, directly or indirectly. Sighing, I pull out my best black polo shirt, which has holes in it on the front, and a pair of dark grey short. These look like mourning clothes, and in a way, they are. I'm going to certain death. After a trip to the Capitol, of course. "Ahaahhaha," comes a familar laugh, the only laugh I can love. "Ahh! Lilli!" I exclaim to my little sister. She's so young. It would have taken nothing for Boss to kill her. I have to protect her, for her and my family's sake. I pick up Lillicon up from her shabbily made cot. It keeps her from falling out, not that the fall would hurt her, it's not even six inches from the ground, and she falls asleep in it. That's enough. I make baby noises at her, and she shows me her pink gums in what I assume to be a smile. I make the same face at her, and she laughs at me.
***Anissa Beaumon's POV***
This is the day. The day that starts my long road to fame. The road to fame that I have to work so fucking hard to get to. Oh well. A great time to act like the children from my school. Acting. The only thing keeping me from getting sent to the nearest doctor. My robotic, familiar actions, words, and 'emotions'. Pretending is second nature, only after surviving, of course. I should start pretending, so I can get in the habit by this afternoon, and so no one thinks I'm different. No one can. Not until the actual Games, at least. Slow, robotic movements to start. Get out of bed. My feet touch the polished wood. Lift yourself up. My weight is transferred onto my feet. Put one foot in front of the other one, and walk to the kitchen. The kitchen door comes into view. "Morning Anissa," Hope adresses me. "Morning Mother," I reply to her. If I respected her somewhat, I would maybe, just maybe address her as Mother more often. She knows I only call her the name most children call their mothers when I'm trying to be like them. That's very rare. Like today, when I know I'm going to have to volunteer. The illegal Training centre chose me. I have gone there since I was 14, when I was finally allowed to be a normal child, and attend a normal school. With that came the Training Centre, because Hope won the Games. She was lucky enough not to get reaped for the Quarter Quell last year, when the rules changed dramatically. Past Victors were reaped. Victors like Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason, Cashmere and Gloss McCall (Brother and sister) and District 2's Brutus Coleman and Enobaria Parrish all went into the Games. I was clinging on to the hope that Hope would get into the Games, especially considering what she did to me when I was young, and still had feelings. Feelings. The word is foreign to me now. A feeling is for a 'normal' person, a person not corrupted by the wrath of their own mother. "Morning, Anissa." Father. My trainer in the Training Centre. "Morning, Dad!" I exclaim cheerfully. "Such a nice morning, pity what day it is, though, hey?" I ask my family. Father seems a little taken aback at my change in attitude to yesterday, which was a normal day for me. A lack of emotions, genuine actions, and care for anyone I come across. And it's probably not going to change. No treatment in the Capitol would be able to cure the irrepearable damage done to my brain when I was five. Caused by my mother, who was driven into a deep phase of anger, and sadness because of the death of my twin brother, who was three months old when he died. Died a sudden 'cot death', as my parents tell me. No one knows the real cause of his premature death. It must have been that that made me weak when I was young. I often cried myself to sleep at night, I got incredibly emotional at the littlest things, and I started bawling when I scraped my knee. In a way I guess I'm kind of glad I'm different now, it makes me a stronger person. Mentally, I guess, I'm stronger than anyone out there. Nothing frazzles me anymore, I don't get heartbroken like most of the girls in my school, and most people tell me I'm a good friend! They mustn't be good friends themselves, because they know nothing about me. Nothing. Except that I can turn anything into a weapon, I know every poisinous and edible berry out there, and I am a martial arts master. Literally. I had to have some way to let out my energy. Martial arts were that way. I somehow subconsciously ate my breakfast, which consisted of thick toast, eggs, and some sort of meat from a pig. It tasted good, and I walk to my room again to get changed for the reaping. I put on a purple skirt that ends at me knees, and a light blue tank top. I think I look good. I brush out my white hair (no joke) and it immediately bounces back into the curls, except they look a little nicer now. I rush to my cupboard, and grab the black sandals Mother got me in an attempt to make me like her more. Not going to work this time. Or ever, considering I'm going into the Hunger Games. If I win, I'm living in the Victor's village. If I lose, well, I refuse to think about that. I have to do my family proud.
***Kestrel Ravenheart's POV***
"Come on Kestrel, this is your last one!"
"I know! But that doesn't disguise the fact that I could be reaped. My name's in there 30 times."
"That doesn't mean you will get reaped! This is a big District!"
"That doesn't mean I won't get reaped." I mutter under my breath as I take my place in the line to get my finger pricked, to tell the Capitol I'm here. The Peacekeeper pricks my finger and places the blood from my finger on a piece of paper, and scans it. I walk over to the section for 16-year-old males, and wait. Then she walks up the stage. Etta Cheerie. District 2's new escort. She has bright blue hair, light blue tight clothing, and a purple makeup technique. Pfft. Capitol people. full of money, and all too quick to send kids into the arena. If someone shot them all, I would love that person forever. But I don't see that happening any time soon. "Ladies first!" Etta yells at us. I don't see the need to yell, personally, but oh well, that is a minor problem compared to the bigger one I'm facing. "Ashlyn Nieves!" Ashlyn is the blonde bimbo from the Training Centre, and I hate her. She wouldn't survive the Games. Pity Anissa Beaumon is volunteering this year. As if on cue, Anissa calls out to the audience: "I volunteer as tribute!" Of course.
***Anissa Beaumon's POV***
No going back now. I walk up the stairs onto the stage, and say with a big smile on my face into the microphone: "My name is Anissa Beaumon, and I will proudly be your tribute for the 77th Hunger Games!" The crowd cheers for me, they love a volunteer. "Awesome! Great to have some enthusiasm this year! For the boys... we have... "Huber Bishop!" Etta Cheerie Huber starts walking towards the stairs, and I realise, it's that idiot Gau's turn to volunteer this year. But it's not him who tells Etta that he's volunteering. It's one of the members of his 'gang', the one with the scar over his eyebrow. Most of the girls consider him scary, so I do as well, according to everyone. Little do most people know, I actually find him intriguing. Not that I could tell anyone. They'll immediately label me differently to everyone else, and I can't afford that. Before I know it, I am shaking Kestrel's hand, and being shoved into a room in the Justice Building as the Panem anthem blares from the speakers behind me. Kestrel Ravenheart, and Anissa Beaumon from District 2.