"This is the rhythm of the night, the night, the night…"
Jeffra Leole
District One Mentor
Victor of the 22nd Annual Hunger Games
"So who were the lucky two you and the almighty Nevada selected?" I ask Jayce, attempting to hide the bitterness in my voice. It was stupid really. So what Nevada chose to take Jayce to select the tributes over me? Big deal. Except it was a big deal; a big deal to me.
"I didn't have much of a choice. Nevada made her choice, and there was little I could say to change it." That surprised me. Nevada usually took in my opinion, no matter how much she pretended not to.
"And what did she decide?"
"As if I could remember the names Jeffra. All I know is the boy was freckled and had impeccable aim. The girl was rather average, nothing sticking out to me about her except her unorthodox appearance." I scowl at Jayce. What a rookie mistake! The only way to bring a tribute home was to learn everything we could about said tribute, and he hasn't even bothered to learn their names. But before I can scold him for it, our escort takes to the stage, and everyone in the square is silenced.
"Hello District One," Kenisha Morarity, District One's escort since the 30th Games, says. I don't, and never will like her. Why? Well it could be the fact that she acts dumb because she thinks it's cute, or it could be the fact that she has slept with half the male population of District One, but most likely it's that she often drinks one too many cocktails when she's supposed to be getting our tributes sponsors, and usually makes a fool out of us.
"Who is excited for this year's games?" Even her voice is annoying! Still, the crowd hoots and hollers, everyone still pumped up about our victory last year.
"Well let's waste no time in selecting out next victor!" She beams as the crowd roars back, quickly tip toeing over to the female bowl, and selecting a slip.
"Glowe Ca-"
"I volunteer!" A confident female voice interrupts. All eyes turn to the 18 year old section as a dark-haired, tan girl emerges, pushing past people to get the stage.
Tharia Carmine. I don't even have to hear her name before I recognize the girl. She's always stuck out in District One because of her appearance, but she stuck out even more in the training centre.
"You're gorgeous!" Kenisha squeals, wrapping the tribute in a quick hug. "Ready to meet your partner?"
"I don't need a partner, but sure why not chose the boy who is going to have to die?" Tharia smirks, looking directly at the back of the male section.
"Well, how about-"
"I volunteer!" Kenisha frowns this time, obviously not liking being cut off before she could even say the name. The boy appears in front of the stage before I could even pinpoint who had yelled, the excited crowd swarming the stage, paying no attention to their assigned areas.
"And your name is?"
"Ralliath Ankina, and I'm here to show this fine lady just how much she needs me," Ralliath jokes, getting a loud snort out of Tharia.
"He's a bloodbath," Tharia comments, eyeing Ralliath from head to toe.
"Not much a fan of blood, but I'll get into any bath you're in."
"District One, your tributes!" Kenisha yells to the crowd, stepping between the two and grabbing a hand each, raising them as if they had already won.
Of course with me as their mentor, one of them already has won.
"Who do you want?" Jayce asks as we stand up to enter the Justice Building behind our tributes.
"Tharia, she's actually taking this seriously."
"Oh come on, Ralliath was just trying to lighten the mood!"
"I'm glad you think so, because he's your first tribute," I smile, brushing past him to keep in toe with my tribute.
"My first victor you mean," Jayce yells back at me, before following.
"Sure sure, I'll be back in a few minutes, ok?" I ask, but really he doesn't have a choice.
"Where are you going? We have to go the Capitol!"
"We have an hour Jayce, calm down. I just have to say goodbye to someone." The smirk that appears on his face tells me he knows exactly who I'm going to see.
"Tell Cruz I say hi," he winks.
"It's not like that Jayce, and you know it."
"Whatever Jeffra. Be back here in ten. We still have to get to the train station."
Nodding, I turn around and make my way to the back door. Jayce is wrong, the relationship between me and Cruz is strictly friends. He helps keep me grounded, and boy do I need that.
Sifton Rivera
District Two Mentor
Victor of the 24th Annual Hunger Games
Another year, another games, two more tributes volunteering to ruin their lives.
That's right, ruin. The life of a victor isn't all it cracks out to be, and all I think about every minute of everyday is how much I wish that I had realized that before I had volunteered. The signs were obvious: none of our victors looked enthusiastic, and they all had changed so much since their games. But naive, little 18 year old me didn't think about that. I thought of one thing, and one thing only: being recognized. All I wanted was for people to know my name, and now they did. I should be happy, no? I'm not, and I never will be.
"Sifton?" The voice breaks me out of my trance, and I look over into Jasmine's dark eyes.
"What?" I stutter, quickly avoiding eye contact.
"Your eyes are redder then my dress," she hisses.
"I was crying this morning," I quickly lie.
"Give it up Sifton, I thought you were done with that shit!" Oh, that's right. I had told her I would stop with the drugs, but obviously I didn't mean it. Ten years of Games was enough to warrant my occasional weed smoking.
"I lied," I say simply, "now shouldn't you be paying attention to the reaping?" I ask, turning her attention to where the escort goes on about how great the Capitol is.
"I know who is volunteering," she says, continuing her frowning at me. "Why are you doing this to yourself, Sifton? You know what happened to Lorelei…" I block her out, tired of her nagging. It's my life, what right does she have to boss me around?
A woman with bright purple hair and an extremely pale face catches my attention. She's obviously from the Capitol, but what confuses me is the fact that she's not standing by the other Capitol people. She's standing in the midst of the crowd of parents, as if she belonged there.
"Sifton!" I startle, turning back to where Jasmine sits, face burning red.
"Yes?"
"Are you listening to me?"
"No," I deadpan. She huffs, apparently giving up because she turns her attention back to where the escort stands, hand in the giant glass bowl. Oh yay, the fun part.
"Canora Seitz!" The man booms into the crowd. Of course before the selected tribute can even move, another voice is yelling they volunteer, and my eyes instantly go to a blonde-haired girl jogging to the stage.
Jasmine snorts when she sees the girl, obviously not happy.
"What's wrong?"
"That girl is not who was supposed to volunteer!" If looks could kill, Jasmine would have killed this blonde girl a long time ago.
"Your name, dear?" The escort asks, handing the mic over to our newest tribute.
"Cascade Farlane," she says simply, looking almost anxious.
"And why did you volunteer?" The escort questions.
"I needed too."
"Why?"
"That's none of your business. Now how about you get back to your job?" Cascade says. I crack a smile. This girl has got a mouth on her.
"What are you smiling about druggy?" Jasmine spits.
"I like her."
"Don't get too attached Sifton." Obviously not, what does she think I am? A rookie? I've been doing this for longer than she has!
"On to the boys," the escort mutters, trying his best to smile when it's clear as day Cascade has pissed him off.
"Samuel Dae!" Again the tribute doesn't even have to move before a volunteer is taking his place.
"At least one of our tributes showed up," Jasmine whispers, nodding approvingly as the blonde-haired boy mounts the stage.
"Colton Channing," the boy says before the escort even asks.
"And what's your reason for volunteering?"
"It's what all the cool kids are doing," the words suggest he's joking but his voice is as serious as ever. What was with this kid? He needed to lighten up. Maybe I should bring him some of my stash for the train ride. I'm sure Cascade would be down.
"Who do you want?" I stare, confused at the question.
"As your tribute," Jasmine continues when I don't answer.
"Oh, um, I like Ca-"
"I think I'll take Cascade."
"What? I thought you didn't like her?"
"I'm curious," she smiles, before standing up and fluffing her bright red dress before heading towards the Justice Building. I suppose that's what I should do too, but I do have an hour...
I'm on feet before I even realize it, heading towards the nearest dark corner. This will be my tenth year as mentor, and it will also be my tenth year with the drugs. And if Jasmine thinks I'm going to stop now, or ever, she's got another thing coming.
Dakota Florence
District Three Mentor
Victor of the 33rd Annual Hunger Games
The smog filled skies of my home do nothing to lighten the mood of the day.
Reaping Day.
The very two words that strike fear into every outer district kid's being. Two words can shatter someone's spirit with the snap of someone's fingers. The very two words that shattered my own spirit, two years ago.
I never would have thought that I would be reaped. I didn't think that it could happen to someone I knew, let alone happen to myself. Getting reaped changed my life, and I'm lucky I had Nykon and Nova to guide me through the Games. Without them, I wouldn't be standing here, on stage today.
Being the most recent victor of District Three, I sit on the right most side of the line of victors, closest to the middle of the stage. Directly to my left is Nykon, who's hand I am currently holding. I was told by Nykon that her and Nova always held hands when it was just the two of them to show unity among the victors, to show our district that we were united as one and that we would work hard to bring someone back home.
As I sit on stage and hold hands with Nykon, I stare out into the crowd and look at the sunken faces of the District Three citizens. It's hard to believe that only two years ago, I was one of them. I was one of the scared children that were frightened of this very day. I still am frightened to some extent, wondering if I will be able to bring someone home this year. After last year's terrible failure with both of our tributes dying in the Bloodbath, I don't want a repeat.
Our Mayor makes his way out to the middle of the stage and begins to read the Treaty of Treason. After listening to that same speech for years on end, I have learned to tune it out quite well. Instead, I take this opportunity to look over at Nykon and Nova and see how they're holding up.
Nova's aging face is set in stone with no emotion crossing over her features what so ever. I'm sure when her son becomes of reaping age she will be worried sick, but for now she has set her face to showing no emotions, and I think it's her way of coping with everything going on. She no longer has to mentor, but she still feels out pain. Still has her own terrifying nightmares, and still has the horror of watching two children from her own district dying every year.
Nykon has a sad smile on her face as she stares off into the crowd. The poor lady is trying to stay strong for her district, but it isn't turning out the way I think she was hoping for. I wish I could cheer her up some way, but there's nothing I can say or do that will make her feel any better. It pains me to see her so upset, because she's just like my own mother. Hopefully if we bring back another victor it can make her better than how she is now.
As the Mayor ends his speech, the escort takes his place. Rosemary Falcon, our escort of 3 years now, takes the stage and immediately dives her perfectly manicured hand into the girls reaping bowl.
"Do we have a Sigma Snowden here?" Rosemary asks the crowd of depressed teenagers.
The crowd of girls in the fifteen year old section disperse like minnows in the sea when a shark comes by. They leave one girl in the middle of the crowd, presumably Sigma, standing there. She closes her eyes and starts to shake slightly, before her knees buckle and she falls to the floor in a heap. I can hear the thump she makes as she hits the floor all the way from back here. The Peacekeepers are eventually forced to make their way over to her, and she is picked up by a Peacekeeper from each of her arms. She is dragged to the stage and all eyes are on her, some giving her pitying looks while others give her looks of disgust that she has to be dragged up by the Peacekeepers. I feel bad for her, but she needs to learn to overcome things if she wants a shot at winning.
"Well, now that is over with we shall move onto the boys," Rosemary says. Her heels click over to the next bowl and she digs her hand down into it, shuffling a few slips around on the bottom before letting her slender hands pick a slip. She walks back slowly to the center of the stage and announces the name of the male tribute, the one I'll be mentoring. "Xenon Zanders, please come on down."
A timid fourteen year old immediately sticks out from the crowd in his section, and he shakily makes his way out of the pen he was in. Before he can get halfway to the stage, something makes everyone's heads turn towards the sixteen year old section.
"I, Lionel Harper, volunteer as the male tribute."
As he makes his way to the stage, I can't help but stare at him with my mouth open. I'm shocked someone volunteered for this, and I wonder why he did. Maybe with this volunteer District Three could have a shot this year, and maybe I can bring home my first tribute ever. Maybe we might have a chance here.
For the first time in months, I smile. A genuine smile. I smile as Rosemary holds up the hands of Sigma and Lionel and announces them as the tributes of District Three.
Delta Nordaine
District Four Mentor
Victor of the 21st Annual Hunger Games
The waves lap against the sand next to the Town Square. The waves provide a calming sense to all of the citizens here as we practically live in the water.
It was a pleasant surprise to have the water in my own arena. Being on a boat all of my life, I think the Gamemakers specifically designed the arena for me. Who am I kidding, of course they did! Who wouldn't want to see me win, right?
As I walk out from behind the stage with the rest of my fellow victors, I remind myself to flash my pearly white smile, because the Capitol loves to see me smile. We walk in a single file line, all our steps in order until we reach our designated chairs. I am the second closest to the center of the stage, while Byron is to my right and Kinzy is to my left. Ever since this district became a career district, everyone in the reaping pens look more relaxed, as if they know they have nothing to worry about since someone will always volunteer.
It's nice that the kids never have to worry. It's an added bonus that the reason they don't have to worry is because the more deserving children of the district get to have their shot at stardom. Unfortunately, that stardom hasn't lasted long for most of my tributes, seeing as I have been mentoring for twelve years and haven't brought home a single victor yet. Oh well, that's because they aren't as good or as lovely as me.
As the mayor comes out from behind the stage, I drift off into thoughts about the ocean and the beach. I've always loved how the waves lap onto the beach and make an extravagant crashing sound. The way the foam bubbles up and dissipates onto the sand, dampening the dry grains on the beach. I'm so grateful for living here, and I'm grateful that the trainers gave me the opportunity to show Panem what I'm capable of. And of course, I'm sure that the Capitol is grateful to have seen me because I was the fan favorite the whole time throughout the Games and who wouldn't love to see my smiling face?
When the Mayor finishes his boring speech, our escort comes onto the stage. He's an idiot and an airhead, and that is only amplified by what he is wearing. He sports a dark blue bathing suit with a matching shirt, as well as a life saver vest that has been dyed to match his clothing attire. He wears black sandals and has white lines across his face, presumably sunscreen.
"Good afternoon District Four!" he screams. He proceeds to adjust the life vest on his chest before moving on. "Who's ready to meet your tributes for the 35th Annual Hunger Games?!" Cheers erupt from the front of the pens, as well as some cheers from the people that aren't in the pens. Some people must be very pro-Capitol here, and that doesn't bother me one bit.
"Let's start with the ladies," he says with a sickeningly sweet smile. I adjust my mini skirt slightly to give the Capitol a little more of a show because why not? What's life if you aren't having a grand ole time. "Marina Vaudin!"
A timid and small girl with glasses comes out of the fifteen year old section, but she doesn't look the least bit worried. She knows what's coming.
"I volunteer!"
The two famous words come spilling out from the 18-year old section, and I squint to see who it is. A fairly tall girl comes strolling out from her section, and I can see a winner in her. She has a flowing aqua skirt accompanied with a nice sky blue belt and a matching headband. She walks confidently up to the stage, and carefully mounts the steps. When she reaches the center of the stage, she speaks her name confidently and calmly.
"Kaede Leomaris, at your service." She flashes a small smirk at the camera, and keeps her head locked in place, seemingly staring off into nothing. She seems like a good contender, and hopefully she'll have the pleasure of working with me. With enough effort and work, we can make her into a victor.
"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful," the babbling idiot says into the microphone. "Now hopefully we have the same luck with the boys!" His sandals make an annoying clicking sound as he makes his way over to the other reaping bowl, and quickly picks out a slip, probably just wanting to see the volunteer come forward.
"Crash Vaylor."
Before the reaped tribute even has a chance of stepping forward to claim their spot, the two expected words come falling out of the 18-year old section once again.
"I volunteer." This time, a tall and rather tan young man steps out of his section. He takes long and calculated strides towards the steps that will lead him to his place on the stage. He strides past us victors on the stage and doesn't so much as glance at us as he takes his place next to the escort. I'm a little offended that he didn't look at me, I mean who wouldn't want to take a look at all this?
"My name is Cobalt Kelby, and I volunteer for the honor of going into the Hunger Games." He maintains his calm and composed demeanor as he speaks into the microphone, and as our escort holds up their hands I think that we have a victor here in District Four this year.
They just won't be as good of a victor as me.
Evanna Becket
District Five Mentor
Victor of the 6th Annual Hunger Games
"And she was gorgeous, with beautiful, perfect black hair and fair skin. It was the best night of my life!"
"What was her name Troy?"
"Oh, uh, it was Bria. No wait that was last week. Um, Cara? No..." I chuckle, Troy Ritter everyone, victor of the 29th Hunger Games and District Five's celebrity man whore.
"Well I'm glad you had a fun night, but I need you to focus yourself Troy. I'd like to bring home another victor this year."
"Right, I got this!"
"Are you ready to take the stage? You're going to have to stay quiet for a while. Can you do that for me?" Troy frowns, and I chuckle, taking his hand. We have a weird relationship, me and Troy. It's mother and son like for sure. I treat him as if he was a child, and he treats me like the fragile old lady I am becoming. We both know each others joking, but it's nice to have someone to joke with. It's hard being a victor, but it was a lot harder before Troy won. No one understood what I was going through, and most people walked on egg shells around me, always careful not to set me off as if I was some sort of ticking time bomb. But Troy, he knows what it's like and that's a bond that can never be severed.
"Would you like me grab your cane?" Troy jokes, squeezing my hand as we head on stage.
The audience claps as we take the stage, and I smile down at them. District Five isn't a bad place to live if it wasn't for the Games, the people are nice, and the Capitol leaves us relatively alone, as long as we supply the power they require.
"Evanna Becket, victor of the Sixth Annual Hunger Games and Troy Ritter, victor of the 29th Annual Hunger Games," the mayor says to the crowd, motioning for us to take out seats. That's right, in 34 years of games, District Five has had a total of two victors and the gap between mine and Troy's victory is over 20 years. Not exactly the best record, but making power doesn't exactly provide a whole lot of skills needed to fight to the death. It was by complete chance both me and Troy won. He hid out until there was only a few left, and managed to kill his final opponent. I joined a large alliance that dominated, even though I didn't do much, and in the end I was the only one willing to turn on our alliance. Something to this day I regret.
"I'd like to welcome to the stage, Marida Shly!" I watch as the lanky woman makes her way towards the microphone. District Five is lucky to have an escort such as Marida. She's calm and kind, and actually wants to help her tributes, unlike the rest of the escorts who are in it for the fame.
"Let's not waste time, and jump right into it with the female!" Her shiny black heels click as she slowly walks towards the girls bowl, and every female in the square takes a collective breath in.
"Penelope Winnow." There's a moment of silence as everyone searches the crowd for the unlucky tribute. The crowd separates as the 15 year old girl emerges from her place. Penelope as it seems, is a rather average looking girl. With light brown hair that has a slight reddish tinge to it and a plain looking face. She has a small, weak looking body, and she wears a shocked expression.
I watch as she climbed the steps, nervously looking around, and it was then that I notice it. She walks with a slight limp in her left foot. Poor girl, she won't make it far. I feel guilty thinking it, but I know it's true.
"You're gorgeous dear, truly," Marida smiles, getting an appreciative smile from Penelope before she moves onto the boys bowl.
"Creighton Scyllan," Marida reads aloud, scanning the crowd for the unlucky boy. The boy, Creighton, emerges from the 15 year old section. He's a rather plain looking kid, with spiked brown hair and an average face. His face is expressionless, but his eyes scan the crowd, as if he's looking for someone.
"There you have it folks! Your tributes, Penelope Winnow and Creighton Scyllan!" Marida chimes, after Creighton has climbed the stage.
"I guess District Five isn't getting another victor this year." I look up at Troy, and see him sat with a disappointed look on his face.
"I guess not."
Dax Herring
District Six Mentor
Victor of the 32nd Annual Hunger Games
"Are you ok Dax?" Kennedy asks, placing her hand on my shoulder.
"Yes, fine. Just a little worried about today," I admit.
"It's going to be fine. Hopefully we get a pair of strong tributes so we can have another victor." Kennedy is a kind girl, sometimes too kind, always putting others before herself. It's a wonder she even won. But she did, and she took three lives in the process. 'Yes but you took five,' my conscious reminds me, and the guilt comes back like a crashing wave. My legs feel weak, and my mind feels fuzzy as I suddenly almost topple over. But of course, Kennedy is there to catch me.
"Are you ok Dax? Maybe we should request Jethro comes with me this year?" she says worriedly.
"No, I'm fine. I just missed breakfast this morning," I lie, standing back up and heading towards the door that leads on stage.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes Kennedy, I'm not a baby!" I snap, and instantly I regret it.
"I'm sorry," I plead. "Just a little on edge."
"It's fine," she mutters, but I can tell it's not.
"Why don't we get this over with?" I suggest, reaching out to take her hand. But instead of taking it, she walks right past me onto the stage, a hurt look in her eyes. I really don't get how that girl won, but I remember her games like they were yesterday. Mostly because they were the games before mine, and the first games I had been allowed to watch.
Turning around, I walk on stage as the crowd applauds my arrival. I've always felt guilty about that. Why should they clap for me? What did I do that was so great? I killed for my life, but is that really applause worthy? I didn't even do it purposely. I never thought I'd win. What chance did a 14 year old District Six boy really have? It was by mere accident I fed those poisonous berries to my allies, and mere accident that I electrocuted the pair from One. The only kill I actually meant was in the finale, when I stabbed the District Five girl.
"Welcome, welcome, District Six to the 35th Annual Hunger Games!" The escort, whose name is currently slipping my mind, addresses the crowd. I hate this part. I can handle watching the kids die, but it's the realizations and horror on their face when their name is called. It's that look of 'oh shit I'm going to die' that gets me, because I know there's little I can do to help. Sure I can get them sponsors, and tell them everything I know, but like I said it was pure luck I survived my games and I can't stop another tributes from stabbing them once they reach the games.
"Amera Colette!" I didn't even hear the rest of her speech, before she's calling a name and an 18 year old is walking towards the stage. I snort. Once again I'm younger than our tribute. Amera looks competent; emotionless as she walks to the stage. She's pretty, I won't deny that, with her blonde hair and slim body, but I'm not here to judge her looks. I'm here to help her win, and judging by first impressions she stands a shot.
"What a beautiful young lady!" The escort comments as Amera reaches the stage.
"Thank you. So are you," she says, smiling, but somehow retaining that emotionless look.
"The boys!" I continue to study Amera as the escort approaches the other bowl, ready to select the male. The girl remains emotionless, staring off in the distance as if she couldn't be bothered to be here. She's good.
"Jordan Levine!" It doesn't take him long to emerge from the crowd, and make his way to the stage. Jordan isn't nearly as good at keeping it together, and even though he's trying to put on a brave face, the worry and fear is obvious.
"District Six, your wonderful tributes!" The escort takes a hand of each of them, and raises it to the sky before leading them through the door and into the justice building.
"You can have her," I say, as a sort of apology to Kennedy for snapping on her. She nods, slightly smiling before too getting up and disappearing through the doors. I've really pissed her off, and that's the last thing I wanted to do. I'm sorry Kennedy, I'm sorry I can't cope, and I'm sorry I take it out on you.
I'm sorry.
Sida McGowan
District Seven Mentor
Victor of the 26th Annual Hunger Games
I hate reaping day.
Being forced to step out of the shadows of my home and come into the light of the depression that this district possesses. The gloominess of the people here mixed in with my general non-impressive personality intensifies the sour mood in the air. I just want these next weeks to be over so I can crawl back into the shack that I call a home.
Most people think that I'm this way because I drink. Some speculate it's because I do drugs. But I'm just being me. The Games didn't break me, much like my father could never break me. I've always been the dark girl in the background. The one you would never pay attention to, and I liked it that way.
Getting reaped really screwed me over and now I'm forced to come out of my darkness once a year for an extended period of time to help two children that I don't even know. Most of the time I let Asher do all the work, helping out both of the tributes instead of us each taking one. I try and stay in my room in the Capitol the whole time, not wanting to infect the tributes with my less than impressive personality. But once the Games begin I have to remain, trapped in that stupid mentor's chamber until both of our tributes are dead. No way to escape. No way to hide. No where to go.
I blame the Capitol for everything. Better yet, I blame the President. If it wasn't for him and his shit way of running the government, I could be living in peace and quiet in my shack of a home. Maybe one day someone can stand up to him, change things back to the way they were before the wars began. I'm certainly not the person to stand up, but maybe one day someone will have the guts to do so and I'll support them fully.
Winter Pont, our lovely escort shuffles her feet that are crammed into five-inch high heels towards the microphone at the center of the stage.
"Welcome District Seven to the Annual Reapings!" Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me, and I have to use all of the restraint in my body not to cover my ears with my calloused hands. "Are you ready to meet your tributes? Let's hope they can reach victor status and become the next victor after the lovely Sida McGowan!"
All eyes turn towards me as she points her hand in my direction. I stare out into the crowd with the harshest glare that I can manage, and keep my hands firmly at my side in order to prevent me from doing something to Winter for bringing attention to me. A cough from Asher next to me brings Winter back to Earth and she begins to sashay her way over to the female's reaping bowl. As she dips her pale white hand into the bowl, I can see all the girls that are of reaping age make a silent prayer to whatever high power is out there that they won't be reaped.
"Alivia Mercado, please make your way towards the stage dear."
"No! No, no, no, no, no! Not me, not me, it can't be me. Please somebody help. Please somebody help me!" The cries don't stop there. She begins to mercilessly grab people and shake them, asking them to help her and volunteer for her. She wails uncontrollably and starts to shake all over. It appears she can't even control her limbs anymore as she begins to flail them around and even hit some people. Before she can run away, peacekeepers come towards her and pick her up like a rag doll. They drag her to the stage, all the while she continues her useless moaning and bawling about how someone should take her place and that she doesn't deserve this. Face it kid, nobody deserves it. You're just unlucky enough to have been chosen.
"Well, now that was certainly interesting!" Winter screeches as Alivia finally settles down. "Let's see if we can have as much fun with the boys!"
She repeats the process that she did with the girls, and in no time is back to the microphone to announce the male's name that has been condemned to the Games.
"Oh what an adorable name! Nico Devlin please come to the stage." The sea of fourteen year olds part as the reaped child is left standing in the middle. He begins to shake and tremble a little bit, and as he walks down the center aisle towards the stage I can see silent tears stream down his pale cheeks. He stumbles a few times getting up the stairs, almost falling flat on his face once. Seems like this year we have a very slim shot of getting a tribute out alive.
As Winter introduces the tributes to District Seven one last time, Asher turns towards me and asks me the same question he has for the past several years, even though it's a pointless one to ask.
"Which one do you want Sida?"
"Doesn't matter to me Asher, take your pick."
Then again, nothing ever matters to me. All that matters is that in a few weeks time I can go back to my shack and sit in the quiet shadows of my depressing life.
Chance Whittaker
District Eight Mentor
Victor of the 12th Annual Hunger Games
One.
Out of all the tributes I've been mentoring over the years, I've only been able to bring home one tribute. I'm a failure at this mentoring thing, but maybe Velvet can help me. Maybe Velvet is the missing piece to the puzzle that can help me bring home someone.
Even though we have been mentoring together for a few years, maybe now that she's found someone to be with there is a new passion for her to bring someone home. I can only hope she's willing to do everything she can to bring someone home.
When I look at Velvet, I don't see the insane girl that everyone saw in the arena. I see a broken girl, someone that is a shell of what they used to be. The Games broke Velvet. The only reason she is somewhat competent now is because she got some counseling for her problems, and because she now found someone that loves her for who she is.
"Do you want to choose who you're mentoring before hand so there's no bias based on who's reaped?" Velvet asks me. She asks me this every year and every year I tell her the same answer.
"I think that's a fantastic idea Vel," I say. "Do you want the male or the female?"
"I'll take the female," she says. I nod in contentment and let her have what she wants. I don't mind giving her what she wants because she hasn't had the easiest road in life. Neither have I, but she's had it even rougher. I just want her to feel at home, and feel like she's living a somewhat normal and peaceful life. She's like my little sister, and I just want her to be comfortable with the life she's living.
I grab Vel's hand and give it a light squeeze, and give her a soft smile as District Eight's escort, Valentina, comes on stage. She waltzes her way over to the males bowl and quickly draws a slip out of the bowl. Looks like she wants to get this over with quickly, and for that I am truly grateful.
"Will Fuller Cambric please come to the stage." The cluster of fifteen year old guys immediately breaks apart, isolating one person, presumably Fuller Cambric. I can see his fists clenching, probably in a vain attempt to calm himself down. He begins to take slow steps towards the center aisle, and then once he makes it there he takes longer strides towards the steps that will lead him to his doom. I can see he is visibly trying to hold back tears, just as I was when I was reaped. Maybe I'll have a chance at bringing him home this year.
"Wonderful," Valentina says. She couldn't have sounded more bored if she tried. Before I can manage to whisper words of encouragement to Vel about how she'll probably get such a fantastic tributes, Valentina is already at the microphone with the female slip in her hand.
"Aedre Moidart please come to the stage." This time, the females don't spread out that quickly so it is hard to isolate the reaped tribute. But, Aedre finally forces her way out of the pen that she was in and walks to the center aisle. She seems to be very calm for just being reaped to the Hunger Games, and I suppose her being calm in tense situations will come in handy for when she's in the Games.
After Valentina introduces them one last time, Velvet turns towards me and smiles.
"I think we finally have a chance at bringing someone home Chance! I think we can do it!"
Hopefully with a little luck, Velvet's prediction could become reality.
Cherry Sindleton
District Nine Mentor
Victor of the 25th Annual Hunger Games
I hate this damned district.
This is the district that voted me to get sent off to die. The district that didn't want me. The district that would rather see me die out of any other child in this district. The district that practically banished me.
If only I could have seen the look on their faces when I killed the girl from District One to become the victor. I can only imagine how upset they were that I managed to get home out of all the other people. When will they learn that I'm not some piece of trash that can be thrown away? I'm not a speck of dirt that can just be blown away. I'm Cherry Sindleton, and I'm not going anywhere now that I'm a victor.
The only person I can somewhat stand in this hellhole is Maybelle, my fellow District Nine Victor and my fellow mentoring partner. She didn't give up on me like most of my district had, and she actually helped me come home. She didn't leave me to die like the District must have wanted her to, no. She actually helped me. And for that I'm eternally grateful. I try and spare her my brash attitude, but it gets hard sometimes. Especially on a day like this, when I'm forced to face the district that sent me to my death.
"It's going to be over soon Cherry," Maybelle whispers to me. "Just keep staring forward and don't say anything. We don't want to make a scene here."
"Speak for yourself Maybelle," I spit back. I try, I really do. I don't want to be rude or brash towards Maybelle, but on this day I can't help it. This stage brings back unwanted memories, and staring back at the people that practically signed my death certificate doesn't exactly help my already boiling blood.
"You only have to get through a couple of more minutes and then we are out of here," she says. Her attempts to make me calm down and stop glaring daggers at the crowd fall onto deaf ears, as I just want to scream at the top of my lungs about how much this district makes me hate my life and how I want to kill the majority of this population.
"A couple of minutes on this stage seems like an eternity," I whisper back to her. Nothing she can say or do will lessen the amount of anger that I posses while sitting on this stage.
Maybelle is a gentle old women, and an extraordinary women at that. Her victory tale is somewhat of a lesser-known one, seeing as she was one of the first victors and nothing terribly exciting happened in her Games. She's started to age with time, and I'm worried that eventually she's not going to be in the condition to mentor with me, and leaving me alone with two kids that are from this District probably isn't the best thing to do. I just hope we can bring someone home and then maybe they can do this taxing mentoring stuff on their own, leaving me and Maybelle to a quiet and secluded life in the Victor's Village.
"See, here comes Mercutio now Cherry," Maybelle points out. "It won't be that much longer until we can get onto the train.
At the site of Mercutio, I almost vomit. He's been with us since before I was chosen to go into the Games, and every year I almost barf at the sight of him just knowing that he was the one that read off my name, letting everyone know that I was chosen to go die by my own people.
"Good morning District Nine! It's time to find out who's coming with me and your lovely mentors to the Capitol!" With that little speech, he begins to quickly walk to the females bowl, and he digs his hand way down to the bottom of the bowl. He eventually plucks one from the bottom and moves himself back to the center of the stage to the microphone.
"Oh what a beautiful name! Crescent Avior, please come to the stage." A small scuffle in the fifteen year old section takes place, and I can see a fairly petite blonde girl make her way out of the section with a stern look on her face. The scowl quickly disappears as she begins to walk towards the stage, and she begins to move her skirt around a little and smile and wink at the cameras around the stage. She's really playing up the crowd, and the Capitol will love her for it. Smart girl.
"Oh darling, you're even prettier than your name!" Mercutio coos at her. "Let's see who your district partner will be." He walks over to the male's bowl, and this time he plucks a paper slip from the very top of the reaping bowl. He gets to the microphone quickly, probably too excited to wait any longer to find out who the other tributes is for District Nine.
"Mycroft Koup, please take your place next to the beautiful Crescent!"
A ginger haired child from the sixteen year old section is immediately sectioned off by his fellow peers, and he looks panicked at first. He looks around like he's expecting someone to volunteer, but as per usual nobody ever volunteers in this district. He then seems to accept his fate, and as he walks forwards he just shrugs a few times and walks with a slight wobble, probably due to the nerves. He seems like an okay tribute, he might be able to make it some what far, with the right mentoring from Maybelle and possibly me, if I feel like helping out this time.
"District Nine, your tributes for this year's Hunger Games!"
As he lifts their hands up, I turn to Maybelle.
"So, which one do you want?" She turns to me and lets out a light laugh, reminiscent of a child laughing as they chase another child in a game of tag.
"We both know it doesn't matter, does it? I'll end up helping them both out."
Maybelle has never been more right.
Gavan Whicker
District Ten Mentor
Victor of the 19th Annual Hunger Games
I've never felt more alone.
Nobody expected him to die that early. Nobody expected his body to fail him like it did at that age. But it did. And now I'm all alone.
Now that Neo is gone, District Ten is one of two Districts that only have one living mentor. Myself, and Amoretta of District Twelve are tasked with helping two children by ourselves; a task that nobody should have to do alone.
This district is starting to crumble. We are all in such a broken state of mind, and we are desperate for a win. We haven't had a tribute come out of that arena since my own win, 16 years ago. After the death of Neo, this district really hit rock bottom. With only myself left to guide a tribute back home, the situation turned even greyer and most people have accepted that if their child is reaped, they're going to die.
But that's why I have the added motivation to bring someone home. I have the drive that no other mentor has. I have the ability to channel my loneliness and my depressed state of mind into mentoring these two tributes. I can change the fate of District Ten, all I have to do is try hard enough to instill every information I have about the Games into my two tributes. I want to prove to them that I can still do it, and that I can bring someone home from that damned arena.
Before the whole reaping ceremony begins, the Mayor silently slides his way over to me and gives me a quick pat on the back.
"Don't worry Gavan," he says. "I have complete confidence in you that you can restore this district to what it once was." I smile at him, a genuine smile. His words mean a lot to me, and I'm glad that at least one person believes in me.
"Thanks Mr. Mayor," I say. "I'll try my best to bring someone back, for Neo." The Mayor smiles at me one last time before walking up the back stairs of the stage and walking towards the microphone. He's going to introduce me soon, and I'm going to have to face my broken District. But I can do it.
"Please welcome your victor, Gavan Whickers!" At the mention of my own name, I begin to stride up the stairs and slide over to the lone chair on the left side of the stage, where the mentors of a district are supposed to sit. It's a little discouraging and depressing to only see one chair when there used to be two, but I can't do anything to change it until after I see my tributes this year.
The Mayor reads the Treaty of Treason and I zone out. I like the Mayor, I really do, but I can't help but ignore what he's saying as I stare out into the District. Many of them, like me, are visibly trying to drown out what the Mayor is saying because we all know what is being said. When I look into the faces of the people in the square, I only see depressed faces. Broken ones. Torn up by the fact that we will probably never get another victor again. But I want to change it all. I want to make those faces lighten up, and be overjoyed when I bring home a victor this year.
When the Mayor finishes reading the Treaty of Treason, our escort Rosalina goes up to center stage to take over the rest of the ceremony.
"Welcome District Ten to this year's reaping!" Her sickly high pitched voice makes my ears hurt, but I can't cover them up. I have to look professional since I am the only living victor of this District. "Let's hope we can bring home a victor to sit next to the handsome Gavan!"
She waddles her way over to the females bowl, and plucks a pale white slip from the top. At least she doesn't do all the digging around nonsense that most of the other escorts do in order to draw out the suspense. She gets her way back to the microphone, and I prepare myself to see the tribute that will be reaped. Maybe this could be the next victor.
"Ingrid Nelson, please come up to me darling." There is a sea of fifteen year olds that part, and it makes way for me to see who Ingrid Nelson really is. She's a smaller child and she definitely seems a little underweight, but I think I can work with her. She appears to puff out her chest probably in an attempt to look stronger, and then makes her way to the stage. At least she didn't trip or cry, we get enough of those here every year. Once she is on stage next to Rosalina, she is visibly shaking which is understandable given her circumstances.
"Oh aren't you just adorable!" Rosalina coos. She pinches her cheeks once before strutting over to the males bowl and again picks a slip towards the top of the bowl.
"Duncan Harris." This time she doesn't add on a little sentence after the reaped tribute's name, which is a pleasant surprise. This time, the section right in front of me parts and I am left with a very angry looking tribute. He is rather tall and seems to be in good shape, which is a nice change from Ingrid. However, he doesn't comply with the Peacekeepers when they edge him forward, so they are forced to pick up the larger eighteen year old and practically drag him up to the stage. Yes, I think he's victor material. We just have to make him more appealing to the Capitol, and we might have a chance here.
As Rosalina makes them shake hands and introduces them to the crowd one last time, I smile. It's a genuine smile and not one that's forced. It's not forced because I know it in my gut that this year District Ten will come home with a win. Ingrid or Duncan will come home this year, I just know it.
I finally won't be alone anymore.
Orondo Ming
District Eleven Mentor
Victor of the 18th Annual Hunger Games
The sea of people is depressing. All of them scared. Scared for their life, or a loved ones life. No one is happy on a day like to today; no one but the Capitol. I don't get how someone can find joy in this; watching children fight for their life. But, it's the world I live in, and unfortunately there's nothing I can do. I'm forced to watch year in and year out as two kids are selected to die, and there's really nothing I can do. It's such a feeling of helplessness. I can't stand it. I don't want to stand it anymore.
"Maybe this year we'll get another victor," Kor smiles reassuringly. This'll be the 35th year of the Hunger Games, and District Eleven has managed exactly two victors. We haven't exactly done the best.
"Hopefully."
"Cheer up Orondo, there's nothing you can do but try and help them." He's right, of course he's right. Kor's always right. But it doesn't make me feel better, instead making me feel even more helpless. He's right, there's nothing I can do but watch and pray that they have it in them to fight their way through. Unfortunately District Eleven doesn't get a lot of fighters because most of out citizens never have to fight. They harvest crops and sell produce, not fight or really struggle that much. We're poor, but most people have enough to at least eat. The fight isn't there in most of our citizens, and that shows in our Hunger Games records. Most of our tributes die early on, few avoiding dying at the bloodbath. I want to scream at how unfair the whole thing is. District Eleven isn't a place made of fighters like other districts; we're a rather peaceful bunch. So naturally when placed in a fight to the death against the careers, or people like kids from seven who have handled weapons their whole life, we don't do well.
"Stop dwelling." Kor always knows what I'm thinking, and how to talk me down. Without him, I would have fallen off my wagon a long while ago.
"Here we go," Kor whispers as the female escort begins her walk towards the first glass bowl.
"Eden Admont!" The name rings throughout the silent square. There's a moments hesitation before movements happens in the 17 year old section. A blonde girl appears in the aisle, her face blank of emotion. The girl walks to the stage rather quickly, taking her place and only nodding at the escort when she addresses her. It's a surprise to see the girls pale skin, compared to the usual dark skin most of our citizens posses.
"At least she's not crying," Kor nods approvingly. I also nod in recognition.
"Jericho Haverfield!" I watch as another light skin tribute walks towards the stage. The tribute, Jericho, walks calmly to the stage, his face showing fear as he scans the crowd around me.
The weird thing is as he continues to look around him, his expression goes from worry to almost happy. There's definitely the hint of a smirk on his face as he climbs the steps to the stage.
"I'll take him," I quickly say, curious as to what the sudden change in emotion was.
"Fine by me, I like her better anyways." I smile. For once District Eleven has reaped two older, stronger looking tributes. We might actually have a chance this year. And as I look at Kor, I can tell he's thinking the same thing.
"Don't get too excited yet," he warns. But I can't hide the smile. If 14 year old me can win, I have little doubt one of these 17 year olds will pull it off.
We have a chance. A chance to fight, and I promise Eden and Jericho right now, I will fight as hard as I can. District Eleven will have another victor.
Amoretta Greal
District Twelve Mentor
Victor of the 20th Annual Hunger Games
Alone.
That's what I am. Completely and utterly alone. No one in Twelve understands what I went through; what I go through. They all see me as the crazy girl who won the games and lives by herself with no friends or family. No one tries to talk to me, or even acknowledge my existence because who wants to be seen with the crazy girl. Maybe I am crazy? Maybe I like being alone? Maybe that's why I push everyone away? Maybe I only trust myself, and deep down know that everyone else will just screw me over.
I do need someone else though. I need another victor, because I can't be alone anymore. I need someone who understands, and can help me. I need someone I can talk to, as much as I don't want to admit it, I do. I need someone.
"District Twelve, how about we get a victor this year? It's only been 15 years!" I cringe as the escort takes the stage. Nola is arrogant, ignorant, and just plain rude. No one here can stand her, and they don't have to spend weeks at a time with her. She doesn't care about the tributes, or anyone really but herself, she's just doing it for the attention. I find it amusing how she's still here, us being considered the lowest of the districts.
"Well, I'm already bored! Let's select our tributes hm?" I roll my eyes as she flicks her long, red hair over her shoulder, and struts over to the female glass bowl.
"Acelynn Keldite, if you don't look like victor material, you might as well die now." I scoff at the comment. That's lower than she normally goes. What a stupid woman, the Capitol would never allow this to continue. It's not good television, her standing up there and ridiculing the tributes before they have even been shown. She must have a death wish.
My attention is distracted as a smaller, blonde haired girl emerges from the 13 year old section. I frown at having such a young tribute, her definitely not being what I had hoped.
Acelynn walks to the stage, a smile on her face as she tries to look confident. It's smart though, because even my heart goes out to the little girl, which means sponsors will be lining up for her. Plus the girl is obviously not from the seam, which makes things a hell of a lot easier for me and her.
"I like your dress," Acelynn smiles at Nola. You would have thought Nola had just received an award from the president himself by her reaction. She over dramatically thanks Acelynn, wrapping the petite girl in a hug before planting a kiss on her cheek.
"This is what a real victor act like!" Nola grins, motioning towards Acelynn. In all my years, I have never seen Nola this happy about a tribute, especially one who obviously doesn't stand a chance. Shit, I'm not supposed to be thinking like that. District Twelve only having one victor means only one mentor for both our tributes, and I've been warned not to show favoritism.
"Let's hope we can select a boy as adorable as you!" Nola again smiles down at Acelynn as the girl continues to look rather awkward up here on stage.
"Teagan Riley!" There's a long pause before an 18 year old steps out from the crowd, a scowl plastered on his face. The boy, unlike Acelynn, is obviously from the seam, with his dark hair, grey eyes, and ragtag clothes. He walks to the stage, quite obviously not happy about being reaped. But there's something about the boy that screams confidence. Even I can tell he's confident, and I've never been good at reading people.
"Any comments?" Nola asks as Teagen takes his place beside Acelynn.
"No," Teagan grumbles, staring around at the crowd.
"Well there we have it, folks, your tributes! Wish them luck, and may the odds be ever I'm their favor!"
I don't watch as Nola escorts the tributes into the justice building. Instead I do what I do every year. I watch as people leave the square, the obvious relief on most of their faces. They weren't reaped, so naturally their happy. It makes me smile that even though two of our children are being ripped away from us, so many more get to continue their lives. It gives me hope, hope that maybe I can bring one of these two home.
I'm not supposed to show favorites, but everyone knows Acelynn isn't going far. A 13 year old, from the merchant at that. I hate to say it, but the only hope she has is sponsors, and they aren't enough to win you the game.
Teagan on the other hand, he's 18, in relatively good shape, and is from the seam. Which means he's most likely suffered, and he looked ticked off when his name was called. If I can get him to push that anger towards the other tributes, then he could stand a chance. I wouldn't be alone anymore, I'd have someone. And at this point, that's all I want.
"This is the rhythm of my life, my life, my life…"
Song: Of The Night
Artist: Bastille
A/N: So those are the reapings! I'll be the first to admit that Reapings are tedious and boring to write, so I'm glad that they are over with. Fin and I each took on 6 districts, and this was based on who had what tributes in certain districts. Fin took Districts 1, 2, 5, 6, 11, and 12 while I had 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, and 10.
I hope you liked the mentors here, and they will be getting scattered POVs throughout the story as we would like to develop the characters we have created as well as develop the characters you have sent us. Don't worry, the tributes will be the main focus of the story, but we like to flesh out our mentors too.
I do have one important thing to say. On the blog post, I had posted that Lionel was reaped, which was a mistake on my part. I don't know what I was thinking. I realized it about two days after I had originally put up the blog, and I changed it as soon as I discovered it. I apologize if that would have effected anyone's first impressions on him.
After each chapter has been completed, a question and sometimes even two will be asked. If you wouldn't mind answering them in the review that you leave it would be much appreciated by myself and Fin.
Questions:
Which mentor stood out to you the most?
Which tribute(s) stood out to you the most?
Fin and I are hoping to stick to this weekly updating schedule. We hope to update every weekend, so it won't always be on a Sunday. Sometimes it'll be a Friday or Saturday, depending on how the week goes for us and how quickly we can write the chapters, but always expect an update once a week on the weekend.
For our Capitol Chapter structure, we will be having 5 chapters with 5 POVs in each of them, and the last POV of the last chapter will be from the POV outside of one of the tributes. Each tribute will only get 1 POV before the Games, but trust me the Games will allow a lot of opportunity for Fin and myself to showcase all of the tribute's back stories, personalities, etc.
Fin and I hope you enjoyed this chapter and we will see you next time!
-Fin and Ace