Reapings Part Two
A Cannon in the Wind;
The 5th Hunger Games
Heloise Jones, Victor of the 2nd Hunger Games
"You look fine." Arsen shoos me away, exasperated. "Sure, you don't look as good as me, and you're kinda old news now—but you're fine."
I look down at my black heels, a cloud of insecurity washing over me. I've always been a bit self-conscious. Always. And winning the Hunger Games didn't help. As far as I know, winning just made it worse.
"I'm sorry." I fidget uncomfortably in my tight black dress. People say that I've been blessed with an amazing body, but I just don't see it. "I— It's just hard, getting used to this...and I need your help, Arsen—"
"I am the best person to ask," he interrupts, his attention more on the mirror in front of him than me. "But unfortunately, I don't have the time to turn on your lamp and tuck you in at night. I'm a Victor, and you need to start acting like one, too."
I look back up at him, my hands clenching—but then my gaze settles back to my little black heels. I should get mad; I should say something, anything to defend myself against his verbal attacks.
But I don't, I can't. I was never an audacious person—but after my Games, I turned into something a lot worse.
A killer. A crazy, homicidal, shy little killer.
And Arsen... After he won the 4th Hunger Games, his already bloated ego skyrocketed. Even though I'm older than him, even though I won before him, he treats me like an annoying child. He's a killer, too, but he's accepted it, embraced it—and he's living with it.
Something I can't do.
"I'm sorry..." I step back a bit, feeling the tears pepper my eyes. On the small screen next to me, the pair from District 3 are forced into the Justice Building. Two young children being forced by this evil society to fight for their lives. It's the worst thing anyone could do.
These people take away the youth of Panem and kill them on national television. There's nothing more cruel, nobody more horrible.
And I won these so-called Hunger Games. I did the Capitol's bidding and killed other kids—for fame, for fortune, for my own life over theirs.
What does that make me?
Arsen suddenly groans, jumping up from his chair and violently kicking it across the room. I flinch at the noise it makes, and then at the crazed look in his eyes. Arsen huffs, glaring at me.
"My hair doesn't look right!" He screams, turning around and swiping the beauty supplies on the floor. The glass containers all break and spill their contents; I flinch again. "They aren't going to take me seriously if my hair looks like a train-wreck!"
Just so you know, Arsen's hair is perfect. In every way possible. I don't see a single thing wrong with it—but apparently, it doesn't look right to him. And whenever Arsen doesn't like something, whenever he gets the tiniest bit upset, he...
"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" He screams at me, grabbing a pair of clippers off the floor. It only takes a quick second for him to chuck it at me—and if I wasn't a Victor, if I didn't dodge a sword coming right at my neck during my Games, I'd be dead.
But I am a Victor, even if I don't like it, even if I feel like crying whenever I think about it.
I tilt my head to the left, and the clippers lodge itself right in the wall. That could've been me, I think, rushing out the room before he can do something worse. That should've been me. It should've.
I run down a dark hallway...but suddenly, I slip, falling and banging my head on the floor. The impact pains me to the core—but I'm use to pain, mental and physical. And right now, the mental pain is overpowering the physical.
I don't know how long I stay on the floor, trying to hold back my tears. I cry a lot, but I can't cry here, not in the Capitol. Every person in the world will be able to see and judge me here. If just one tear fell from their darling Victor, it'd be on headlines everywhere. And I can't handle that.
I can't handle much, but I definitely can't handle that.
"Heloise!" I hear a Capitolite's voice—probably my stylist—and strong hands start to pick me up. I know those hands; I know how Arsen's hands feel. Whenever he goes crazy, they always seem to attract to my neck.
The Games broke him. When his District Partner threw a rock at his head, the impact clicked something horrible into place. The impact made him insane. His emotions are a whirlwind that don't stop for anyone.
Not even himself.
I open my blurry eyes, meeting my fellow Victor's brown ones. Arsen smiles that sweet, kind smile of his—like he didn't just have a mini tantrum, like he didn't just almost kill me. He helps me to my feet, while my stylist rattles on about the importance of getting ready and how Aeliana will be calling us up soon.
But I don't focus on that much. All I can think about is how stupid this all is, how wrong this all is, how much I just want to close my eyes and die.
Heloise Jones, the depressed Victor of the 2nd Hunger Games.
Arsen Mackenzie, the bipolar Victor of the 4th Hunger Games.
The ride will only get worse from here. It always does.
Aeliana Devrine, Hunger Games Interviewer / Announcer
Now's the time for Ms. Galamory to leave, says the man from the control center. For a second, his voice abruptly coming in my ear shocks me—but I don't let the surprise show. I'm a professional.
I'm the face of Panem! If I can't mask my emotions on television, nobody can.
Not even this stuck-up Victor.
"Ah, what's this?" I blink, putting on a facade of innocence. Jewell gives me a look—no doubt she knows what's about to happen—while the Capitol audience all lean in, engrossed with every word I say. "Aww, I just got word that our Shining Victor has to leave! How unfortunate."
Jewell furrows her brows, pure irritation flashing in her cerulean eyes. She caught the sarcastic tone I used just then, but I couldn't care less. She could blow up the moon and I'd be perfectly content, just as long as I don't have to see her smug face anymore.
The audience all whine at my announcement. Of course they fell for her happy-go-lucky facade—but not me! The day I'm tricked by a District 1 bimbo is the day the districts will win against the Capitol.
So never, basically.
I put up a finger, stopping the sad voices immediately. "But don't worry! Joining us next will be my two favorite Victors: Heloise Jones and Arsen Mackenzie, the two Victors from District 2!"
The audience's mood does a complete u-turn, going from depressed to excited in a matter of seconds. Jewell smiles that fake smile of hers, waving goodbye. She gets up from her seat—but suddenly, she turns to me.
"Goodbye, Aeliana," Jewell says, sneering. I bet she's ecstatic over the fact that she doesn't have to sit up here for much longer; I'd be. "I hope you don't cause Heloise and Arsen much trouble."
I snort. Of course she's trying to get the last word in. Last year, right before she left the stage, she mentioned how my hair design was tilting to the right. I was pissed about that for literally weeks.
"Don't worry, I won't. And hey, don't take this personally, but you should probably use a bit of mouthwash when you get back to your dressing room." I smile innocently, ignoring the laughing of the audience and her incredulous gasp. "I just don't want you embarrassing yourself, that's all."
The audience continues to laugh. Even as Jewell scowls and storms off the stage, clenching and unclenching her fists. I start laughing, too, completely pleased with myself.
I always get the last jab in. And I'm willing to hit below the belt and even lower if I have to.
It's just what you have to do if you want to stay afloat in this business. It might not be as tense as the Hunger Games, but it's challenging in it's own right.
I turn back to the crowd, grinning. The stage looks so much better with that monkey-girl gone. The fact that I have to see and hear of her every year is torture enough, but to actually share a stage with Jewell Galamory is...equal to death.
"Anyway, District 5 should be starting their reapings now! I know Heloise and Arsen aren't here yet, but they'll be appearing right after this reaping concludes. So for now, you guys can pay attention to me and me only!" I spin around in my chair, giggling. Apparently, my exuberant attitude is contagious, because the Capitol audience all start laughing and grinning as well.
When the lights dim and the screen flashes on, we're all happy and ready for the wonderful tributes of District 5.
Note the sarcasm. Their tributes are always lackluster at best...
The first thing we can see from District 5 are the power plants placed throughout the place. Considering they're the reason we have electricity, us in the Capitol should treat them better...
But no-one really cares about that. Call us whatever you want, but it's hard not to be ungrateful when everything has always been given to us. The Hunger Games are a prime example of our power.
The escort for this district is also a male—but he's a regular occurrence, and he says the exact same thing every year.
"Good morning, District 5, and I hope it continues to be a good morning!" He says in that cheerful tone of his. "I'll be starting the reaping with the males, as usual, and we'll end it with the females. Any questions before I get started?"
If someone were to wipe a drop of sweat off their brow, I'd be able to hear it. That's how silent it is in District 5. They all probably despise this man—no, they all despise the Capitol. District 5 may not be as smart as District 3, or as rebellious as District 11, but even they won't submit to us peacefully. It's sad when you think about it.
I do notice that there are a bit more Peacekeepers around than usual, though, and they're situated more around the females. Why is that..?
"Gotcha!" The escort exclaims, grabbing a slip from the bowl. If possible, things are even quieter as the escort walks back to the microphone. The tension is so thick that, even though I'm miles and miles away, I can feel it. "And the male tribute representing District 5 in the 5th annual Hunger Games is..."
He opens the slip. The audience behind me all lean forward.
"Michael Riverbee!"
The same thing has happened in every district, and it doesn't seem to be stopping here. In the back—of course in the back—the kids begin to slowly disperse and leave the reaped child by himself. Michael frowns, looking around at the various children—at the kids he thought were his friends, who're now abandoning him to the snake's den. The escort calls his name again—and to Michael's credit, he walks into the aisle and up onto the stage without any Peacekeepers threatening him. Even as the little thirteen-year-old stands beside his escort, he doesn't display any of the usual bloodbath symptoms!
This kid may actually be interesting, I think, smiling.
And that's when Michael starts to cry.
I stifle a groan behind my hands, and the audience behind me all start frowning. There goes his chance at decent sponsors, I think, shaking my head.
"...Well, now for the ladies." The escort tries his best to ignore the crying child and quickly heads over to the female bowl. But before he can even stick his hand inside, a shrill scream breaks through the silence.
"I volunteer!" A young girl—probably fourteen or fifteen-years-old—pushes her way out of the crowd and calmly walks down the aisle. I blink, surprised, and the members of the audience all start whispering. A young girl from District 5 volunteering is...not at all what I was expecting.
The young volunteer has a confident aura about her as she walks up the stairs. But before she can greet the escort, however, a Peacekeeper suddenly stands in her way.
"What?" The girl demands, a scowl instantly forming on her face.
"Alexandra Fearn, you are not allowed to volunteer," the Peacekeeper responds, rather mysteriously. He knows her name? I think, intrigued at the display.
For a second, fear crosses Alexandra's face—but it's instantly replaced with that scowl again. "And why not?" She challenges, not backing down. "The Hunger Games are a very special event in Panem, and the rules state that anyone twelve to eighteen can volunteer if they want to. As soon as the words left my mouth, I became property of the Capitol. That means you have absolutely no authority over me...nor my family."
The last three words are almost said in a whisper, but it gets the point across. The Peacekeeper slowly steps to the side, allowing Alexandra to walk by. By now, the Capitol audience are in a buzz of questions—and I am, too!
Who is this girl? Why did she volunteer at such a young age? And what was that whole ordeal with the Peacekeeper about?
"Well...is there anything that you'd like to say, Ms. Fearn?" The escort asks the girl, bringing the microphone closer and closer to her face.
Alexandra shakes her head, turning away from the escort and to the crowd. "No, there's nothing I'd like to say. Not to you, anyway..."
The camera cuts away from the escort's gaping face and zooms in to the two tributes of District 5. Michael has big fat tears coming out of his hazel eyes and running down his cheeks. His dark blond hair sits atop his head, swept to the side, and his skin is clean enough. A lot of these district kids take no care for their skin, so that's good. Michael is short and scrawny, though, so that won't do him any good during the Games. Unfortunately, my bloodbath senses are tingling.
Alexandra, however, doesn't give me that feeling. Her age may prevent her from getting that Victor's crown, but I definitely don't see a bloodbath in her. Alexandra has waist-length black hair, striking grey eyes, and pale skin. Just like her District Partner, however, she's short and thin—which also won't do her any good. She's really pretty, though. Couple that with the fact that she volunteered, and I can see some good sponsors in her future.
The last thing we see from District 5 are the two tributes walking into the Justice Building, the horde of Peacekeepers following closely. The screen shuts off, the lights flash on—and suddenly sitting beside me in their own chairs are the two Victors of District 2, Heloise and Arsen.
I fake a scream—of course I knew they would appear—while the audience members all gasp.
"Oh wow!" I exclaim, my hand over my heart. "You two came out of nowhere! Don't scare me like that!" The audience starts to laugh, and Arsen smirks at me.
"Well, we did win the Hunger Games," he says, leaning back against his seat. "Isn't being stealthy a keen component?" His black hair is spikier than the last time I saw him, and his smirk is sexier, too. While his looks may not be as good as the District 1 idiots, it's good enough for me.
More than good enough, actually.
I laugh, wrapping a piece of hair around my finger. "I don't think you were that stealthy during your Games, Arsen. ActualIy, I believe you ran head-first into danger a whole bunch of times!"
He's the one to laugh this time. "Hey," he says, shrugging. "You gotta do what you gotta do. If you want to talk about stealth, though, Heloise is your girl."
The attention is instantly directed to our quiet Victor. Heloise smiles a small smile, waving at everyone when they start cheering for her—but she doesn't say anything. Only when Arsen nudges her playfully does she stutter out a response.
"W-Well, hiding out while everyone else is dying..." She trails off, her eyes looking off to the side. Remembering the memories of her arena, no doubt. "...it's better than killing others," she mutters after a while.
Arsen bursts out into a loud laugh. "You don't think we'll believe something like that, do you?" He asks her, to which she just stares. "Sure, you hid for a bit—and hiding is lame—but you definitely made up for it. How many did you kill? Four? Six?"
Heloise looks down, focusing on her pretty black heels. "Yeah," she whispers. "Six. I killed six ki—"
"It was like you were on a rampage!" Arsen interrupts, laughing. The members of the audience laugh along with him. "Seriously, though, it was awesome. Not as awesome as my Games, but still, it was cool enough."
Heloise doesn't respond—and that's good, because even though Arsen is my favorite Victor, he can talk a lot. The quicker we get off that subject, the better.
I clear my throat, regaining attention. "Yep, both of your Games were amazing to watch! But unfortunately, that's not why we're here." I point to the blank screen. "You two watched the reaping just now, right? Your thoughts on District 5?"
Arsen and Heloise both give me a blank look, probably forming their opinions. After a few seconds, Heloise looks back down to her heels, and Arsen opens his mouth to answer.
"They were okay, I guess," he says, scratching the back of his head. "That Michael kid is going to die, definitely, and Alexandra might make it far, but not too far. District 2 is definitely stronger than them."
I chuckle. "That's nice to hear. What about you, Heloise?"
The female Victor looks up, frowning. "...Michael is small, meaning he may be fast. And if he's fast, then they can't kill him...right?" She looks down again, but continues talking. "I'd really like to know why Alexandra would...do something like that, though..."
"Volunteer?" I ask, and she nods. "Oh, yeah. I'd like to know that, too."
Heloise is a sweetheart, but she's too much of a sweetheart. Unfortunately, she doesn't see the Games like Arsen and I do. If she doesn't interact more with us, she'll stick out like a sore thumb—and I'm sure President Kronin won't appreciate that.
District 6 is coming up, I hear in my ear. Before Arsen can suddenly add his two cents, I put up a finger, stopping him.
"If my hunch is right, and they usually are, then I think that District 6 is starting their reapings!" I exclaim cheerily, laughing when the audience starts to cheer. "Let's watch it, shall we?"
I spin around in my seat, flashing Arsen and Heloise a grin. Arsen grins back, winking at me, while Heloise just looks back down to the floor. I know she's just a shy little thing, but it's really starting to annoy me...
But don't worry, I tell myself, waiting for the screen to flash on. Nearly halfway there. Just watch the rest of these reapings, enjoy Arsen and Heloise's company...and then put up with that District 7 guy. But after that, I'll be done! Just a few more kids to be reaped.
Just a few more kids that'll have to die.
As soon as the screen turns on, we're greeted with the sad faces of District 6. The children seem to have a depressing haze around them, while the officials onstage aren't looking too happy either. Overall, everything just looks sad and undesirable. Thank the heavens above that I was born here in the luxurious Capitol.
There's one colorful person that stands out, though...
"Hello, District 6!" The escort greets. She's a tall woman with bright orange hair and a smile that just won't quit. "I'm so, so happy to be here today! We didn't do so well last year, but I'll try my hardest to reap two strong tributes this year, alright? Okay then! With that being said, I'll try to be original and choose the male tribute first."
I snort. Yeah, you and every other escort. Try again next year, okay?
The escort hurries over to the male's bowl and sticks her hand in. She digs around for a good few seconds until, finally, she pulls out a little white card. Opening the card before she can even walk back to the microphone, she reads it to herself, and then nods.
"Breno Harmont!" She calls out, grinning that giant smile. "Come up and represent your district, sir!"
The camera searches through the male section, trying to pinpoint our District 6 tribute. The boys in the front—thank Panem, an older male—start to back up, leaving two boys by themselves. One of the boys, a determined look in his eyes, start towards the aisle—but the other boy grabs him by the shoulder and starts whispering something in his ear.
The Peacekeepers start to move towards them. But before they can get close enough, the boy that stopped the other boy from going—wow, that's confusing—puts his hands in his pockets and walks down the aisle, all the way up to the stage.
I blink. Okay, that was...kinda weird. I definitely need to ask this guy about that during his interview.
"And you are..?" The escort asks, to which the boy snorts.
"Breno Harmont," he says, smirking. "I am the person you called up, right? Because if not, we can just act like this never happened..."
"No, you're the one I called." The escort smiles again. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Harmont!"
Breno nods, not saying anything anymore. He's holding the confident act pretty well, but that's probably all that's going for him. Breno is pretty attractive, however. With his neat, dark brown hair, his stormy eyes, and his mischievous smirk... I guess a few people won't hesitate to sponsor him. That is, if he doesn't blow it by breaking down.
...Please don't blow it.
"And now, for the girls!" The escort strides over to the female bowl, her orange hair blowing in the wind. "Let's pray for a strong female to match our strong male, shall we?"
She doesn't get a single noise of response—but I doubt that matters much to her. She grabs a slip, this time getting it from the top, and quickly opens it.
"Ceres Cantrell!"
This time, the camera focuses on the front of the female section...but nobody moves, or speaks, or makes any sort of reaction that they've been reaped. Dammit, I think, shaking my head. Another brat. The camera moves to the back, slowly...and that's when they find her. The girls around Ceres move away, almost shyly, leaving her alone.
Ceres Cantrell is a cute girl with mid-length black hair tied up in a ponytail. Her eyes are a dark brown, yet they don't display the innocence that girls her age have. The most eye-catching thing about her, though, is the fact that she's wearing blue jeans and a black hoodie. Every other tribute was dressed in something a little bit decent—but seriously? Jeans?
Ugh, district children...
Ceres looks around, shell-shocked, her mouth wide open. Better than crying, but still not a good first impression. Ceres just stands there, not moving a muscle—and that's when the Peacekeepers move. One of them grabs her by the arm and guides her to the stage, but half-way, she wrenches her arm away and climbs the steps all by herself.
"W-Well..." The escort doesn't know what to say. Calling her strong-looking would make her a liar, but saying anything else would be downright mean. So instead of saying anything to the little thirteen-year-old, she smiles.
Bruno snorts, looking the girl up-and-down. Suddenly, he cracks a small smile. "How lovely it is to meet my District Partner," he drawls. "Even though we'll be soon fighting to the death."
"It's not so lovely to be meeting you," Ceres mumbles, her head down. And then the screen flashes off.
The lights turn on, and instantly, the Capitol audience is ablaze with their many comments. There's so many voices ringing out at the same time that I can't even begin to distinguish any of them, so I just chuckle.
"Well, that was interesting!" I say, grinning my fake grin. I swipe a bit of hair out of my eyes. "District 6 isn't looking too bad, I'd say. Breno looks strong and pretty charming, while Ceres is a little sweetie. What do you all think?"
Arsen answers before the audience can even think to voice their opinions. "Breno doesn't look that strong. Definitely not stronger than me, nor Kostos. And honestly, little kids like Ceres should just get out the way so that the older, stronger tributes can shine."
I blink. Wow, no subtlety at all...
"Well, that's an interesting opinion from our vicious Victor." The audience gets a chuckle out of that; I smile. "What about you, Heloise? Don't let Arsen forget who's the elder here!"
Heloise looks up, a nervous smile planted on her face. For someone so beautiful, she's so insecure, and I just hate that about her.
"Breno is nice. I do wonder what he was whispering to that boy about, though," she tells me, and the audience hums thoughtfully. "Also, Ceres was really strong. To be reaped at such a young age, and not shed even one tear..."
She trails off, looking back to the floor. But her thoughts were acknowledged, so that's good. I really do like Heloise, and I'm just trying to make sure she doesn't fade away.
She reminds me of myself a lot. Back when I was bullied by the other girls because of my skin, or my smell, or my hair...I always wanted someone to stick up for me. I can do that for Heloise. I can; I will.
"I think District 6 will really entertain us this year," I say to the audience. "Speaking of entertaining, did you all know that..."
We all continue chatting, bouncing off of each other with smooth precision. Arsen is a really good conversationalist, even though he somehow ends up bringing everything back to him or his tributes. And Heloise is already one of the audience's favorites, because of her Games, so anything she says will be taken nicely. And I'm the star of Panem, so I could fart and the audience would love it!
Before I know it, I'm receiving word of District 7's reaping. I inform the audience and spin in my seat, waiting for the lights to dim and the screen to flash on. Hopefully, District 7 doesn't end up disappointing me. For some reason, they always do. Even their Victor just irritates me.
The first thing the camera shows us are the vast forests around District 7. I guess they want some of the more ignorant viewers to realize that we are in District 7 now, since they're so well-known for their axe-wielding tributes. The camera suddenly switches over to the site of the reaping, though—and just like District 6, District 7 is swallowed by a layer of depression. The boys aren't looking too sad—they look more irritated than anything—while the girls are practically biting their nails in anxiousness.
I've said this before, and I'll say it again. Nobody wants to get reaped.
Nobody wants to die.
These children may have a slight advantage against the others because of their experience with a weapon, but that doesn't do anything more than make them targets. Not to mention the Gamemaker traps, and the Arena itself...
Yeah, just being able to swing an axe around hardly helps, if you think about it.
"Welcome, District 7, to the reaping for the 5th annual Hunger Games," says their escort. She's a short lady with dark green hair and a very monotonous voice. I can't see her keeping her job for much longer. "You might not realize it, but I'm very excited for these Games. I hope you all can take some of my enthusiasm and use it yourselves."
I roll my eyes. As enthusiastic as death.
"Anyway, I'll be starting." The lady slowly walks over to the female bowl. It's so quiet that every step she takes reverberates throughout the place. Still taking her sweet time, she sticks her hand inside the bowl...and with no change in expression, she grabs a slip. "And the female representing District 7 this year is..."
She opens the slip. Agonizingly slow. It's not even suspenseful anymore, it's just plain irritating.
"Calla Mallow," the escort calls out, deadpanned. "Please come up."
The camera shifts to the female section. In the back, the girls drift away, giving us access to the reaped tribute. Calla doesn't stand still like the girl previous to her, however. With her hands clenched and her eyes closed, she pushes her way past the girls and walks out into the aisle. When her dark green eyes open, I see fear beyond belief—but I also see acceptance and determination. She's been reaped for the Hunger Games, but she's not going to break down.
I like that. I truly do.
Better entertainment if the tributes actually fight back instead of crying, after all.
Calla makes it to the stage and exhales. The camera zooms in on her face, trying their hardest to find weakness of any sort—but there's none to be found, outwardly of course. Calla is a pretty tall girl with tanned skin and dark green eyes. She's wiry, too. Her light brown hair hangs in tight curls down her back, and her face is filled with freckles.
I wrinkle my nose at that. Here in the Capitol, freckles aren't considered cute, but more-so akin to a blemish. Calla isn't very pretty, though, nor sexy. As far as I can see, she might only get sponsors because she isn't on the floor crying right now.
The escort doesn't greet Calla, nor does she really even acknowledge her existence. She just walks right past the female tribute and straight to the male bowl, not saying a word.
I repress a groan. She definitely needs to be fired. Quickly.
"The male representing District 7 this year will be..." She grabs a slip, opening it just as slow as before. With the way she's moving, District 8 might have to air right after! "Ro—"
"I volunteer!"
My eyes widen. Another volunteer?
The camera pans down, revealing a young boy rushing towards the stage. He's handsome, that much is clear, and the smirk on his face is nothing less than cunning. He's almost like the boy-version of Alexandra!
Still, I think, sighing. Young volunteers are nice and everything, but... I'd rather someone older—
"I volunteer!" Suddenly, another body shoots out into the aisle.
I gasp; the audience gasps; Arsen and Heloise gasp—everyone gasps as the young volunteer is roughly shoved to the ground, being replaced by an older male. The older volunteer quickly runs down the aisle and up the steps, a sad smile on his face when he reaches the escort and his District Partner.
"My name is Daniel Church," says the volunteer, carrying a weird accent. "And I volunteer for the Hunger Games."
I blink. Okay, that was unexpectedly crazy.
The camera goes back down to the aisle. The younger volunteer—or I should just call him a boy now, because he lost that chance—stares up at Daniel in complete and utter shock. Now that I think about it, they look alike. They look very similar, actually.
The camera goes back up to Daniel, and the audience behind me all ooh. I roll my eyes. I guess he's attractive. His features are sharp and handsome, while his dark hair reaches just past his eyes. His eyes are a dark brown, almost black—and I'm almost captured by the emotion hidden behind those dark orbs. Lastly, he's thin and tall, taller than most tributes we've seen so far. If he plays his cards right, I think he'll stand a very good chance!
We get one last glimpse of District 7's tributes—Calla Mallow and Daniel Church—before the screen turns off. The lights flash on, I turn towards the audience...
But before I can start talking, there's static rushing in my ear.
District 8 will be coming up very shortly, the man from the control center says. Make whatever you have to say quick.
I feel like groaning, but I stop myself, instead rolling my eyes. Of course that wretched escort made District 7 take forever. I seriously detest her.
"Fortunately for us, District 8 will be starting really soon!" I tell the audience, and they hoot in response. "I know, I know. Awesome, right? But we still need to take a few minutes to discuss District 7! So, I'll be letting Heloise lead this discussion!"
Once again, all of the attention diverts from me to our darling Victor. Heloise looks up from her shoes, a shy smile on her face once again. I expect her to not say anything...so I'm really surprised when her mouth opens to comment.
"Calla might not be the most interesting tribute so far, but it's really admirable that she could walk onstage without a single tear. She hid her emotions and represented her district splendidly..." Heloise lets out a breath of air, her eyes wet and her cheeks flushed. "And that must've been his younger brother Daniel volunteered for. I don't know why his younger brother was trying to volunteer, or why Daniel ended up doing it instead...but..." She inhales, composing herself, and then continues talking one last time. "I wish them a...Happy...Hunger Games."
The audience cheers for Heloise, thinking her emotional exchange was full of love. But I know it's not. Working with both tributes and Victors, I've become accustomed to their mindset.
They don't like the Hunger Games.
They despise the Hunger Games.
Heloise's words were her trying to get across the fact that she sincerely feels sorry for Daniel and Calla. Because they'll both be dead in the next few weeks. Twenty-three children will, actually.
I smile, shushing the audience so I can talk. "Riveting words from our darling Victor," I say. "But unfortunately, that's all we have time to hear, because District 8 will be starting soon! Let's watch!"
The audience members all start cheering and clapping again. They do that a lot, actually. I shrug, turning around in my seat and looking towards the screen. District 7 wasn't too bad, thankfully, and hopefully District 8 will be adequate, too.
I'm not asking for much, y'know? I just want tough kids to be reaped, so that the Games will have more fighting and bloodshed rather than hugging and tears. Is that so wrong?
The screen flashes on, and District 8's Justice Building is on full display. The Capitol escort is talking about something uninteresting, so I tune her out, instead focusing my attention on the children below. The boys and girls, just like the children before, are looking scared and depressed. District 8 is one of many districts that haven't yet gained a Victor, and I seriously doubt they'll be getting one anytime soon. Not when tributes from District 2 are in the Arena raising hell.
"Anyway, I think I've done enough talking!" Says the escort, a rather chubby lady with purple eyes. She's a regular in District 8, and I can tell from the way that the children glare at her that she's not very liked. "I know you're all just as anxious as I am to see this year's tributes, so I'll start already. But let me tell you, whoever gets reaped will love the food."
I snort, while the members of the audience chuckle. Fatass.
"I'll start with the girl tribute, okay? Okay." Without waiting for a response—she knows full well that they'll never really respond to her—she walks over to the female bowl. She's pretty slow, but not as slow as the escort from District 7.
Quickly grabbing one small slip, one dead child, she walks back over to the microphone and reads the name.
"Kaya Vause!" She calls out, smiling. "As I said before, you'll love the food!"
The females—somewhere in the middle—start to drift away, leaving a red-headed girl standing all by herself. Just like the female tributes before her, Kaya's face is the epitome of shocked. She steps out into the aisle, slowly, and starts walking. It takes her a long time to make it to the stage—but when she does, there's a sad yet accepting look in her eyes.
Kaya has red hair, like I said before, and pale skin. Her cheeks, however, are they're tinted pink. Her blue eyes have a wide look to them; she's actually a really pretty girl. Kaya is a bit short, though—thin, too, with long legs and skinny hands. If she doesn't break down and cry, I predict good sponsors in her future.
The escort looks her up and down. "Yep, you definitely need some food in you, girl."
Kaya doesn't give the lady a smidgen of her attention. There's just silence as she stares out into the crowd, her face melancholic and her eyes a bit glossy. Sometimes, I feel sad for these tributes. They're leaving their homes, their families, their entire life behind.
But then I think of the rebellion, and that thought quickly goes out the window. They brought this upon themselves; they deserve this.
Not at all offended by Kaya's silent treatment, the Capitol escort goes over to the male bowl. Grabbing one, she walks back over to the microphone and reads the name aloud: "Zander Engres!"
The boys—a bit more in the back, thankfully—all back away, leaving a red-headed boy standing by himself. Zander emulates Kaya's first expression, completely in shock. It's understandable, really. He's just been condemned to a horribly painful death, so of course he's shocked. Still, it's not a strong look—and the more he just stands there gaping, the more his could-be sponsors drift away.
After a while, the Peacekeepers grab him and drag him to the stage. He's stopped gaping, thankfully, but his eyes are widened in a totally astonished way. Zander is a tall boy with gangly, long arms. He has pale skin and light brown eyes that...look too big for his flat face, actually. Speaking of his face, there are multiple cuts around his eyes and mouth, for some odd reason. Yeah, if we were going by looks, I don't think I'd sponsor him...
The escort grabs Zander and Kaya's arms, holding them up—as if they really have a chance for victory.
"District 8, your tributes!"
The camera focuses on Kaya Vause, her eyes closed, and Zander Engres, his eyes wide. It stays on them for a bit more before it clicks off. The lights turn back on, and I spin around, smiling my blinding smile.
"Well, that was really exciting, no?" I ask the audience members, and they all voice their opinions on the tributes of District 8. "Yes, yes—I liked them, too. Both of them seem like strong competitors to me! But first, let's ask our two Victors what they think." I turn towards Arsen. "You first."
He smirks. "I guess I can see them getting far. District 2 would bend them like two little twigs, but still, they look strong enough."
I laugh. "You may be a Victor now, Arsen, but at least you haven't forgotten your roots!"
The audience laughs along with me, and the male Victor chuckles. "Well..." He shrugs. "I'm just stating the facts. Everyone knows that District 2 are always the best tributes in the Games."
I nod, still laughing. "I guess that's true! But Heloise, what do you think? Can District 8 compare to District 2?"
"...What?" Heloise looks up from her shoes, a hard look matching her watery eyes—and I can just tell she's about to say something really bad. "These children... You're betting on them, comparing them like..."
Careful, I want to tell her, frowning to get the point across. Say anything more, and you'll find poison in your food. Just nod your head and act stupid, Heloise! Take notes from District 1 if you have to!
"...I'm sorry." She looks back down, clenching her hands. "Both districts have strong, good-looking tributes. I wish them both the best of luck."
There's silence for a good few seconds...before I break it, grinning.
"Well, there you have it! Amazing words from Arsen Mackenzie and Heloise Jones, our two Victors from District 2!" I spin around in my chair, giggling like a District 1 fool. But the audience loves that, so I suck up my pride and do it. "Sadly, they'll both have to go now—but stay tuned, District's 9 through 12 will be commentated by me, the amazing Aeliana Devrine, and Sylvan Barnes, District 7's fierce Victor."
The audience members make sad noises at Arsen and Heloise's departure, but they start to perk up when the next Victor is mentioned. It's funny, really, how much these people love their Victors. Sylvan is a huge nuisance, but I just need to put up with him for a little while. He's not even the worst part, though; these last four districts bore me to absolute death. They're so poor and weak that I doubt they'll ever get a Victor—but it's my job, so I'll do it to the best of my abilities.
Still, I'm very curious about this year's tributes so far. Michael and Alexandra from District 5, Ceres and Breno from District 6, Daniel and Calla from District 7, and Kaya and Zander from District 8. All eight of these children interest me in one way or another.
I smirk, holding back a laugh. All eight of these children could end up dead, too. Isn't that funny?
I think it it.
I think it's hilarious.
Ah, another chapter out! Sorry for the delay, but I've been on a vacation of sorts, and I was unable to update. So...yeah. :|
Thanks a lot for the many reviews, though! All of them were so nice! I'll really try to keep writing to the best of my abilities, okay? Okay! ^_^
Still, this chapter was torture to write. I don't even know why, but I don't like it, and it was just hard. I think I finally understand why everyone seems to hate writing reaping chapters...
Anyway, I'm talking a lot, aren't I? Yeah. Umm...tell me in the reviews which reaping was your favorite, and even your least favorite. And tell me what you think of District 2's two Victors.
Hopefully I have the next chapter out pretty quickly.
And hopefully it's easier to write than this chapter, because ugh, I just can't...
^_^||| Bye-bye!