Varinia
25 Years Old
Avox.
"Who wants to go first?"
The kids hands shoot up, all of them shifting on top of their pillows, all wanting to start this… to start this game. Or, at least, that's they call it. Some game to entertain themselves, to make themselves laugh, to put a smile on each other's faces.
It's just some game.
But, to me… it's awful. It's a mockery of the Games, disrespecting them altogether. If it were up to me, I would never let these kids engage in this activity. I would tell them 'no', which is something they don't hear too often, I just don't have a say, though.
I never really did have a say.
Even if I did, I'd have to keep quiet. Or else I'd end up like this again.
The blonde girl, one of the Gamemaker's daughters, stands up, her hand raised the highest. As she stands over all of the rest, they lower their hands, letting this one take the stage.
Letting this one start this game.
This charade.
The girl dips her hand into the bowl, rummaging her hand around in it. She grabs a card, holding it close enough to her face for only her to see. As she opens the card, she resembles an escort about to reap a tribute. But, in this charade, she's picking a mentor's name.
A mentor's name to reenact. To act out, to let the others guess who they think it is.
This is their game.
Some demonstration of what they know about the mentors and how they perceive them.
The girl folds the card back, slipping it into her pocket. She pauses for a moment, and as she angles her elbow, she brings her hand to her forward. She looks like she's supposed to be saluting something, and as the other kids call out incorrect answers, she tries again.
It's the same thing over and over again.
The same interpretation of the mentors. All the same gestures to represent the victors.
"Radiance!" A boy calls out, while another calls out, "Nora!"
For her next movement, she gestures to her stomach. She makes a bubble-type gesture around her stomach, and from what it looks like, she's trying to look like she's pregnant. A victor who is a mother.
"Nashira!" Another girl calls out, this one with brown hair. I never thought it was necessary to learn all of their names.
They all treat me the same.
Now that it's the brown-haired girl's turn, she stands up, drawing a card of her own from the bowl. She picks her card, and immediately begins to feign crying. She rubs under her eyes, sulking her head forward, and then curls up into a ball on the ground. On the ground, she pretends to stop breathing, acting as if she's dead.
An emotional victor. One who cried a lot. One that is now dead.
"Wiress!" Another boy calls out, making them all laugh together. A few more names are called out, but I catch onto one that calls out "Paisley!"
There's a pause, and then one of the older boys stand up, who has to be nearly sixteen by now. He's one of the President's personal bodyguard's sons. With confidence, he states, "Lichen."
Looks like he was right.
The boy stands up, broadening his shoulders already. He's always a rule-breaker, never picking a card from the bowl. If he's anything like his father, than I pity the President if anything. The boy stands there, and swiftly, begins to shake violently. With his right hand, he holds up six fingers, which is supposed to represent something.
Only if I could help them out. But, no. I can't do that.
The boy falls to the ground, still shaking violently. This one apparently has stumped the kids, none of them calling out any names. Then, after another quiet pause, the youngest boy, who can only be about eight, calls out a name.
"Beetee!"
The Peacekeeper's boy stands up, grimacing a little, as if he should kept it going. Glancing at the clock, I see that the kids are going off to the lunch in a few minutes, and I repress a sigh that tries to escape.
I'm nearly there.
Just a few more minutes with these… with these children.
The young boy takes a card from the bowl, reading it quickly even before I try to get a glance at it. In a quick movement, he leaps onto the couch, beginning to punch at the pillows on it. He throws the pillow on the ground, leaping right on top of it, giving it a little stomp.
He continues to throw his little body around the room, knocking over pillows and cushions from here and there. He's acting like some animal, some barbaric and wild victor.
"A monkey!" One girl says with a laugh, and I can only imagine where the kids will take this one.
"Chaff!" The Peacekeeper's boy calls out, referencing to Chaff's skin-tone.
It's just awful.
There's nothing else to call this.
As the little boy leaps again, he knocks over a lamp, the sound of glass crashing onto the ground making the kids go silent. One of them finally get it, saying that it's Vanora. The kids all crawl away from the broken glass, the light now in pieces on the ground.
Here is where I get to play my part.
As maid, as servant, as baby-sitter.
Do you think they could guess this too? Probably not.
The kids all go quiet, not saying anything except for a few whispers. The boy who knocked it over doesn't even look remotely guilty, and as I walk over to it to clean it up, he smirks. Realizing who I'm dealing with, I bow a little, not letting any expression slip onto my face.
It's just what I have to do.
He rolls his eyes, walking right back over to his friends. As I bend down and begin to clean it up, I block the sounds of the kids incessant babbling and giggling out, not realizing that by the time I look up, they're all gone. They all left to have lunch now.
As I look around the room, I see the bowl in the center of it, victor's names filled into it.
Every single victor. All fifty-nine of them.
All the disposal of these kids to act out. To mock, to poke fun at, or to play some game with. Is this how the victors are supposed to be treated? Is this what the Capitol intended?
For kids to simply mock? For kids to make some game out of?
Of course not.
But, I can't say anything. I have to stand there, clean up after them, and pretend to enjoy watching this.
It's just the life I live now.
It's not like I had a choice.
District One
Male: Audric Lavier, 18.
Female: Constance Baudin, 18.
District Two
Male: Kace Evedane, 17.
Female: Ceres Milani, 18.
District Three
Male: Chet Perry, 16.
Female: Kapera Silliah, 17.
District Four
Male: Alamar Seward, 18.
Female: Carina Ellison, 17.
District Five
Male: Evan Aleces, 17.
Female: Limnic Hablitz, 16.
District Six
Male: Nerva Vindex, 16.
Female: Inger Melville, 17.
District Seven
Male: Silas Braxton, 16.
Female: Katcia Elspeth, 17.
District Eight
Male: Rollo Damario, 16.
Female: Maureen Lowell, 18.
District Nine
Male: Dymas Corrigan, 17.
Female: Damaris Ponte, 18.
District Ten
Male: Peros Nebron, 13.
Female: Haley Carradine, 17.
District Eleven
Male: Lomman Rybar, 15.
Female: Copper Donoghue, 16.
District Twelve
Male: Kade Blaire, 16.
Female: Amelia Winters, 16.
Author's Note:
Here are the links for the blog (They can also be found on my profile, which would probably be easier):
w w w. shotinthedarkhg. blogspot. c o m
w w w. halloffamethg. blogspot. c o m
Some questions on them, yeah? I'll save the personal questions for later.
From the tribute blog, who stood out to you? Any favorites just from that?
Some general comments would be nice to read, too.
And for the mentor.
From the mentor blog, who stood out to you? Any favorites that you'd like to see appear in the story?
Oh, I should talk about submissions too. Really, this time it was a lot harder to choose tributes for this story; I got more than I usually do, and so I had to really think about each tribute and who I would want to write. Don't take it personally that I'm not using your tribute or anything, it's just that were others that piqued my interest more and that I could do more with.
I don't want to offend anyone by not accepting their tribute, so.
And that's it, I guess. Next chapter should be up soon (lol moment when I already have it done..)