Disclaimer: The Hunger Games still isn't mine.
Note: Yeah, I know, quick update. Another one of those chapters that pretty much wrote itself when I received these two.
Thank you to BecauseofKillianJones and MidnightRaven323 for Sher and Lordez, respectively.
District Eleven Reaping
Learned or Guessed
Ivy
Mentor, District Eleven
Seven years ago, she had smiled for the cameras as she had taken the stage, the Hunger Games' first volunteer. A year later, she had taken her place beside the mayor, so confident in her unknown tributes. Now, it was all Ivy could do to remain seated and silent, glaring at the cameras, when what she really wanted was to scream in rage against the monsters who had sentenced her to this fate.
But that wouldn't help her tributes.
Not that anything would, really. Few tributes from District Eleven shared her confidence, her strength, her skill. Most died early in the Games, leaving her with nothing to do but throw darts at their pictures while her fellow mentors were still frantically searching for sponsors.
The mayor read their "list" of victors. Maybe someday they would actually have more than one name on that list. Maybe.
District Eleven's escort, Kandee Stringles, rose, grinning. Ivy had to fight back an urge to get up and smack her in her smiling, unnaturally pink face. Kandee reached into the first bowl and drew a slip of paper. "Sonya Withers!"
The fourteen-year-old section parted around a small girl with a terrified expression. But before the little girl could take more than a few steps towards the stage, a loud, "I volunteer!" rang through the crowd.
A girl stepped out of the seventeen-year-old section. For a moment, Ivy hoped to see someone with a bit of training or natural strength, but the girl who hurried to the stage was slim and rather average in height. She had long, curly black hair that hung to her waist, mocha skin, and a simple green dress with a black ribbon around the waist. All in all, she looked like a regular girl on reaping day.
Except for her smile. That was what made Ivy look twice. Her smile, and a strange sparkle in her amber eyes. She radiated something that Ivy hadn't seen in a tribute for six years: confidence.
Kandee was beaming so much, Ivy thought her face might crack. Which wasn't a bad image. "And what's your name, my dear?" she asked.
"Lordez Miller," the girl replied.
"Miller," Kandee repeated. "So, Sonya – no relation, then."
"My friend," Lordez answered.
"Excellent!" Kandee decided. "On to the boys!" She reached into the second bowl and drew another slip. "Sherlacham—"
"Sherlacham Haimish," a voice called, correcting her pronunciation. A boy stepped out of the seventeen-year-old section and practically ran to the stage, his expression a mix of awkward excitement and annoyance at having his name butchered.
He was unusually pale for District Eleven – maybe his family had been refugees from another district during the war. He had short, black hair and grey-blue eyes that matched the rest of his outfit – grey and black. He was tall, and seemed even taller as he took his place next to his shorter district partner. "Why don't you tell them why you really volunteered?" he asked Lordez, loudly enough for the crowd to hear.
Lordez appeared shocked for a moment, but quickly recovered. "Sonya's my friend."
"Wrong. Nobody's that selfless. No, no, no, the real answer's much more interesting. You're curious. The way you rushed up here, that smile – you enjoy a challenge. You've always wondered whether or not you could win, whether your mind would be enough to get you through when only the strongest survive. No, your friend was just the catalyst – the extra push you needed to rush up here where you always wanted to be."
The girl smirked, undeterred by his rapid-fire explanation. "And what about you? Shouting out your own name when most people would be hoping for someone else whose name was close to their own—"
"Not likely. The chances of someone else having a name close enough to mine—"
"—are astronomical but still there. But you were hoping to hear your name, weren't you." She looked him over again. "But not because you wanted to be in the Games. You just wanted to be up on stage so you could show off what you'd figured out about me." She scoffed. "You probably don't even know what you've just been picked for."
"Of course I do. I—"
"Well, well!" Kandee interrupted. "Such eager tributes this year! Fighting already. But there'll be plenty of time for that in the arena. For now, shake hands!"
The two tributes stared at her for a moment, then at each other. Finally, the girl burst out laughing and held out her hand. The boy hesitated a moment, but then shook it, grinning broadly.
Ivy stared, completely bewildered.
On the one hand, at least they weren't twelve. At least they weren't crying. At least they were smiling and laughing – the Capitol would love that.
But they were completely mad.
Lordez Miller
District Eleven Female
Ridiculous.
Of course she didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be hugging Sonya goodbye, promising the little girl who was like a sister to her that she'd be all right. That she'd come back. A promise that she'd try very hard to keep, of course, but Lordez knew the odds were against her.
But she was used to that. She'd spent her whole life fighting the odds. After her mother had been killed in a freak tracker-jacker attack, Lordez had been left on her own. But she'd quickly found her niche in the gambling circle, learning to read an opponent's movements, learning when to call a bluff, learning how to survive.
Which was why she hadn't argued with the boy. He was wrong, of course. Completely wrong. But it wouldn't hurt for the Capitol to think he was right. That she was enjoying this. That she was in it for the thrill of challenging and testing herself to the limit.
Sonya slipped a small pendant into Lordez's hand. It was a horseshoe, with a four-leaf clover tucked inside. "It can't hurt to have a bit more luck," the girl said quietly.
Lordez nodded and took the pendant. Sonya didn't understand. It wasn't really about luck at all. It was a game of skill. A battle of wits. And it was a game she intended to win.
The Peacekeepers came to retrieve Sonya, leaving Lordez alone, staring at the pendant. Startled, she realized that, if she looked closely, she could see her own reflection.
And she was smiling.
Sher Haimish
District Eleven Male
He was already bored.
Sher hated waiting, even for a moment. It seemed ages before the Peacekeepers let Joham in. Sher's best friend didn't waste any time. "Do you have any idea what you just got chosen for?"
Sher shrugged. He hated admitting that he didn't know. But the Hunger Games were one of those things he'd never really had time to pay attention to. They just existed, like the fact that the Sun went around the Earth, or that winter came after spring. It wasn't something he ever thought about; it was just there, in the background.
But Joham seemed terribly upset, so Sher decided to indulge him. "From your agitated mental state, I assume that it's dangerous. The pink-skinned lady said there'd be enough time for fighting in the arena, so the premise of these Games is presumably a fight to the death. Naturally, you're worried, but don't be. It'll be fun."
"Fun?" Joham's face got all squinty like it always did when he was upset. "You could die!"
"Not likely, although I suppose it's always possible. Now, tell me, what does one do when a girl gives him a necklace?" He frowned, unsure, as he held up the necklace Bianca had given him. It had struck him as odd that she had given him such a feminine piece of jewelry, and he wasn't sure if he was expected to wear it or keep it in his pocket or simply throw it away.
Joham sighed, exasperated, and plopped down next to Sher. "Just … just keep it in your front pocket for now. There."
"Ah." Sher drummed his fingers on the bench. "Anything else I should know?"
Joham shook his head, watching his friend with worried eyes. "Just … don't die."
Sher smiled. "I don't plan to."
"You spoke with skill in a hard place, and wisely, it seemed to me. But I learned or guessed more from you than your words said."