"Gryffon!"

The fifteen-year-old shook his head and looked up at the sound of his name, though he didn't immediately regain focus.

"What's wrong?"

The boy blinked down at his foster sister, his pupils narrowing, this sort of bitterness rising up into his throat. She cared about him and his ideas just as much as his father did, he had come to realize. It irked him, it definitely hurt him, but he allowed as much affection possible toward the girl. Gryffon excused her thoughts by titling her ignorant. "Nothing, Jay. Let's go?" The girl gave a roll of her eyes and turned toward the door, taking the hand of her little sister whose age matched Gryffon's younger brother before heading out toward the Square for the yearly event.

The Reaping was the day where families would give up one of their own for a chance at fame, wealth, and honor. They would be sent to the Capitol to train, then be tossed in an arena to fight to the death. Jay, unlike his father who thought Gryffon was weak and couldn't ever possibly come out alive, didn't believe Gryffon should even dream about even volunteering, let alone win.

But with Dad dead, they only had so much time left in the somewhat more privileged house they had lived in. They deserved a place better, they deserved the money, the attention. The little ones especially. Adeline and Stephen deserved so much more than the life they had been given. But with Alick gone, they lost one of their biggest threats, but with him went the Peacekeeper wage and lifestyle they had. Their mother didn't seem to care and . . . Well, Gryffon was the only one to show any interest in making things better, and knew he had to do it as soon as humanly possible.

Why they couldn't all just understand that was beyond him.

Gryffon let his mother lead them out of the house and shut the door behind him. A few steps forward and he felt a glare on him. Gryffon cast Jay a glance, one she blinked at with a slight shake of her head before she looked down at her sister again. The girl commented something about how cute Andie looked, getting the little girl to giggle and bury her face shyly in Jay's slowly fading white skirt as they walked. The kids had eight years left to go before they were eligible for any Games, and the thought of that made Gryffon smile. If he won, he could keep them safe. He could teach them everything he would learn in the Capitol. If they were to ever be reaped, too, they would know what to do.

But Jay laughed at him when he brought this up to her a year prior, when his father's death was still ripe. She had said his ideas were laughable, said he couldn't possibly care for any of them if he wanted to throw his life away.

It's not like I'm completely clueless, though, he silently argued as they reached the tables to get their fingers pricked. Pulchra, Gryffon's mother, walked toward the sidelines with Andie and Stephen, leaving Jay and Gryffon to join their respective age and gender groups alone. He knew he wasn't stupid, Gryffon reflected as he walked into the line of kids. His father hadn't been either. He had just been abusive, and literally kicked the determination into his son. The man had helped to an extent, actually. Once, just one, when he wasn't being an ass, he had offered to help with some defense.

Gryffon took up the offer, learned a few protective postures, ways to hit back. It certainly made his more physical - and actual - fights with his father more amusing for the man, as well as provide a means of practice. He was more immune to pain now, more angry. He knew he could do it, he did.

Why couldn't Jay see that? It frustrated him to no end.

"Welcome!" a shrilly voice interrupted Gryffon's thoughts. Damnit, already? Biting his lip, he focused up onto the stage where a little man stood in a decoration of hues, though what stood out most were the lime green accents on his suit and his spiky green hair. The escorts always looked so odd and out of place in the dark and depressing district, as well as unbearably ridiculous. Nothing Gryffon could do about that but laugh, though.

As the escort continued to babble on, Gryffon let his attention wander beyond the podium to the three chairs set out: one for the mentor, one for the escort, and the other for the mayor. The mentor grabbed his interest first, and with a smirk, Gryffon raised a brow at her, which he swore she returned with a narrowing of her eyes, though he wasn't quite certain if she even looked at him.

Annabelle Marceline. Victor of the 49th Games and the daughter of his mother's late family friend. Gryffon had met her once a couple of years ago when Jay and Andie had recently moved in. She seemed nice, level-headed, and when he had watched a recap of her Games, he noticed how she worked mainly with her wit and stealth. She'd be interesting as a mentor, someone who might listen, who might actually support something. And knowing his mother, maybe she'd hold some favoritism. That would do wonders for him.

The thought made him smile, though his fingers tapped a rhythmless beat against his legs. When he looked back at the escort, Gryffon noticed he was just beginning to introduce the Dark Days video, and the teen had to withhold a groan. Yes, the Reaping was interesting to watch, but the video was just a whole big bore. It was the same thing every year, stating the same message Gryffon already knew.

He wished he could just skip ahead to the name picking. Instead, Gryffon continued looking over the people he could locate. Here and there his eyes landed on the heads of classmates, of kids he had never seen, and those he had left behind to bite his dust. He'd be taking the place of one of them today. They better be goddamned grateful.

Gryffon laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head as his eyes skimmed over the tops of heads to the girls' side of the crowd. He tried to recall the names of the ones he knew or had seen, all for a distraction from the video.

"Ready to pick the names now?"

Even at the call of the names, he kept his eyes glued to the girls. Finally. Finally they could get going. He reached his hands up and ran them through his hair, pushing the wavy locks back as if to clear his vision. Gryffon glanced quickly toward the stage at the escort as he clip-clopped in his platforms to the bowl with the girls' names. Come on come on come on . . .

"Jay Wright, please come on up here!"

Wait. What?

Gryffon looked back over toward the girls and watched as the crowd of them split to give his sister easier access to the path up to the stage. Stiffly, she moved, slowly thawing out of her frozen stature.

He knew he should have been disappointed, knew he should have screamed out in protest, make one of the other girls volunteer in her place, but he didn't. He couldn't even find himself regretting her being called.

It's as if part of him had been wanting her to be reaped. Now he could prove his points valid to her, too. Now he could show her that he wasn't just shitting himself when he said he could win, that he could fight.

Except now he didn't have to show his determination, his strength, his ability to actually do what he says by winning for himself. He could do it by protecting her until she won. Until she was the last one alive. She could win for all of them. Their family would still get the house and the money, he wouldn't be a disappointment to her. She wouldn't be able to laugh at him anymore . . . He could make her win.

He knew he could. And it was great.

The girl finally took a half-step forward, uncurling her fingers and wiped her palms on the skirt of her dress. Okay, she heaved a breath and took a step. She could do it. Another step, and another, all the way until she was on stage and her face was a little less pale.

"You okay now?" the escort chimed with a little high-pitched giggle as he shook Jay's hand. The fourteen-year-old nodded silently and forced a smile, though probably felt it was too taut so let it fall again.

"I, uh - w-well, yeah, I'm okay now," she answered shakily.

"Then in that case, are there any volunteers?" The escort called as he moved toward the boys' bowl, but as expected, no one moved or said a word, they just stared at the red-eyed girl who could barely contain her trembling. The man nodded to himself with a grin and fully abandoned Jay on one side of the podium as he reached the bowl. "Now for the boys!"

Gryffon moved his eyes from the escort to Jay, his smirk ever-present. After a second or two, enough time for the escort to pick an envelope, Jay met his eyes and each of them stood unblinking. They were each too stubborn, too loving, and too hateful. Her lighter eyes seemed to scream out a violent "No!" but Gryffon's own didn't budge.

"Cory - "

The next two words to leave his mouth was just as automatic as the quick raising of his hand. "I volunteer!" Gryffon raised his voice above that of the microphone and waited for the mob of boys around him to shift aside and give him room to step forward. "I volunteer." And that's when Jay's widened glare closed and gave a sigh behind the lids.

Idiot! he imagined she screamed mentally. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

"Exciting! A volunteer!" The escort stretched his hand out to Gryffon when the teen made his way up with quick jogs, allowing the boy to take it for a moment. "What might your name be?"

"Gryffon Sauntor," he shrugged, glancing Jay's way, but noticed that her eyes remained strained toward the parents now. Bringing his green-tinted gaze back toward the escort, he smiled and asked, "What might your name be?"

One green brow rose uncertainly while the man's mouth curled into a smile. "How polite! Vinyel Yansey." The man let Gryffon's hand drop and he took a step back before motioning toward the two. "Shake hands, children!" Gryffon stepped forward and though he stretched his hand out to his sister, Jay didn't even bother looking at him. With a roll of his eyes, Gryffon stepped back and gestured toward the crowd.

Clearing his throat to relieve the awkward silence, Vinyel clapped once. "Now, ladies and gentlemen! Your tributes for the Sixty-Fourth Annual Hunger Games!" Vinyel introduced, stepping in between the two kids and speaking into the main mic again. "May the odds be ever in their favor!"