Eleanora Darzky, 17, District 5
5 years ago
Eleanora was seated at the edge of her bed, leaning so far forward that her back started to ache. But she didn't care. Her television was small, and she couldn't bear to miss a single detail.
(She could be watching downstairs, where the large television was kept. But the last time her father caught her watching the Hunger Games, he was angry.)
The boy from Seven moved in to strike. His blade caught the girl from Ten's jacket, creating a large cut through the bottom. She backed up, gripping her own knife tightly. Her hand was shaking.
Weak. Eleanora watched as the boy lunged in for another strike, this time catching on Ten's arm. She jerked out of the way fast enough for no blood to spill, but she dropped her knife. She backed up, unaware of the dip in terrain sitting behind her. Unaware, until her footing was misplaced and she tumbled down.
The boy wasted no time. The sword was in and out of her chest within seconds. He wiped off the blade with the piece of her cut jacket and picked up her knife, disappearing back into the woods as the cannon fired.
Idiot. Eleanora leaned back against her bed as the cameras cut between the remaining alliances. With half a dozen tributes left, Eleanora thought it could still be anyone's game. The girl from Ten was the last weak link in the bunch.
The camera jumped to the girl from Five and Eleanora wondered how her odds were. She was eighteen and even scored an eight in her private sessions. She wasn't particularly charismatic, but she was strong and determined. She was just as capable as any of the Careers, despite lacking the edge from the training the Careers received.
If only she were offered the same opportunities as they were. Eleanora hopped up from her bed and out of her bedroom. She entered the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water as the television played faintly in the background. Her mind was lost like it was known to do frequently, so she didn't hear when her parents entered the front door.
"Eleanora!" her dad's yelling made her jump. That led to the glass of water slipping from her grip. The glass exploded on the ground below her, water soaking her feet.
She had already flinched by the time her dad stomped over to her and smacked her down to the ground.
"Clean it up. Now!" he turned to his wife, who had yet to move any further into the house.
Coward. Eleanora held back her tears as he yelled at his wife to get the broom and dustpan. It didn't matter the Darzky's had their own cleaning service. It didn't even matter that it was an accident - Ion Darzky was an asshole. Plain and simple.
Once his wife gave him the broom, he threw it down on his daughter. His daughter, his flesh and blood that he's never been able to treat with an ounce of respect.
But she cleaned up the mess as best as she could, too afraid to do anything different. It was always the same. Eleanora would screw up, she'd be punished for it, and her mother would just sit by and let it happen.
She was told he wasn't always like this, but she never believed it. He gave her no reason to.
As her father stormed off, a few things happened at once. First, Eleanora realized the television was still playing. The second, her father walked past her room. And third, the realization of what she was watching hit him in the face.
She gripped the broom tightly as he rounded the corner, a sharp pain shooting across her cheek.
"What did I say last time?" he snapped.
"Ion…" the quiet voice of Lumen Darzky does nothing to combat her husband.
"Why don't you just listen to me, for once?" Eleanora wasn't sure where these words were coming from, but she couldn't stop them. Years of being mistreated have caught up to her. She was over it.
"Eleanora!" Lumen scolded her daughter, less likely due to the words she was saying and more likely due to the anger she knew would be upon her shortly.
"There is no reason our tributes should be at such a disadvantage. If we had what those worthless Careers had, we would be unstoppable." Eleanora's words were familiar to her parents. Pleading for them to use an ounce of their influence to set up an Academy in Five. But her words fell on deaf ears time and time again.
(If she had a place to train, she could be victorious.)
"I thought I made myself perfectly clear last time, I will not be wasting a favor for your stupid ideas." Eleanora should stop provoking him. She knew this. But she was fired up.
(If she could achieve her goals, maybe she would be worthy of the Darzky name. Maybe she would finally be worth something in the eyes of her father.)
"Just give me one chance-" Eleanora's pleas fell on deaf ears, and Ion Darzky struck her again. This time, the stinging sensation sent tears down her cheeks.
"Finish cleaning," he stomped out of the room, Lumen followed close behind. She did as she was told, leaving the kitchen more spotless than it's ever been. As she retreated into her room, the tears almost blinded her.
The television speakers have exploded with horns and praise for the newest victor of the Hunger Games. He stood over his district partner's dead body, raising his weapon into the air in celebration.
That could be me. Eleanora turned the television off and curled up on her bed. The pain on her face, the tears on her cheeks, all of it fueled her anger.
She'd show them.
1 year ago
Eleanora's arms ached from swinging her knife into the target. Barks of the tree flew around her, and she could feel the target start to give out.
Target is a generous word for a large tree stump painted with a few circles, but it served Eleanora well for the past few years, and it was better than nothing.
She dropped the knife and wiped the sweat off her forehead, admiring the damage she created. She couldn't diminish the pride she felt.
(If only the District could see what she was truly capable of.)
She picked the knife up and made the short walk back to her house. Her classmate, and more importantly, his family, had no issue with her practicing in their backyard. She had done them numerous favors and would continue to do so.
(Until she left the District, that is.)
Her knife had been custom designed by the father of another classmate, a girl who Eleanora had helped with homework on multiple occasions.
(Eleanora was not ashamed of taking from those she gave to. She would never move up if she didn't play the social game.)
She arrived back at her house and thankfully, there was no one home to greet her. She'd prefer it that way. Despite her growth in training, she would never grow in the eyes of her parents.
(She raised her hand and touched the raised scar that decorated her face. Even though it had been years since her father had given that to her, sometimes it still irritated her skin. He doesn't even have to be in the room with her to cause her pain.)
Her heart jumped when she saw that there was an envelope sitting on the front mat addressed to her.
It could only be from one person.
She quickly picked it up and set it on the kitchen counter. Without the backing of her parents, she had to have something concrete to show the mayor. Year and year she watched District 5 tributes get slaughtered by those so much better trained. She had to show him what a difference an official training program could make.
Please don't let me down. Eleanora ripped the envelope open and pulled the letter out. She took a breath to calm herself, then read.
"Miss Darzky,
Thank you for your elegant proposal. Unfortunately-"
Eleanora ripped the paper to shreds and let it fall slowly into the trashcan. She didn't care what his excuses were. She didn't care what he had to say. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, and she wouldn't waste another moment on people who have never offered her the same respect.
Soon, the reapings would be among them. And she'd show them all.
Caliadne "Cali" Karpathos, 18, District 4
Childhood…
If asked, Cali would break up her life into three distinct parts.
(Not that anyone would ask.)
The first was when she and her brothers lived under the same roof. Day in and day out they were subjected to the will of their parents. Either of them had an ounce of kindness in their heart.
Lian and Jordan did, though. Cali didn't realize it at the time, as one wouldn't be under the age of ten, but her brothers put a lot of effort into shielding her from their parents' anger. That doesn't mean she didn't witness it – she witnessed plenty. But their strikes were always aimed at her two older brothers. And despite their rough upbringing, they supported one another until the end of their days.
(Cali wished she knew the end of their days meant the end of living together, but maybe that was her mistake.)
Lian moved out first when Cali was 10. It was hard for Cali, despite his once-a-week visits, she missed him dearly. He was always there for her, emotionally and physically shielding her whenever he could. And of course, Jordan was still there to take the brunt of their parents.
Until he wasn't. And this is where Cali thought the second part of her life began. The part where she was alone.
Cali was only twelve when Jordan moved out, and unlike Lian, he never visited. Cali never understood why, and she was quite angry with him for a long time. Not for leaving and never coming back, but for not staying in touch with her.
Lian continued his visits, but these simply weren't enough. Now, with no one around her, she was the one who was face-to-face with her parents. Every argument, every slap, Cali was in the middle of it all. And she hated it.
What could she do? She was young and had years before she could move out like her brother. She had no friends, not really. It was hard to make friends when she never spoke.
(It's a shame not speaking is what got her so far in her own household. When she was small, she was harder to hurt.
How could two people screw up her life so badly?)
Summer was approaching and school would be out soon. What was Cali to do? She could not stay home the entire summer, and her strategy of lingering in the classroom would be futile. She contemplated many things, none of them ideal, until one day she heard whisperings of recruitment for a Career training program.
Cali was no stranger to the Academy or the Careers, but the more she eavesdropped on her classmates, the more she decided that a dedicated training program was her way out. And when students from the program visited her school to recruit, she was the first one in line.
It was perfect. It gave her something to keep her away from home. It gave her something to strive to be better at. And, best of all, it gave her a base for self-defense from those who would harm her.
(Even if Cali still flinched at the sight of an incoming strike, she was stronger. She was prepared.)
She stayed focused. Kids came and went, but Cali didn't pay much mind to any of them. Not even the loud boys that others were drawn to. No, she stayed away.
It served her well, for a while at least.
3 years ago
Cali's life wasn't perfect, but she made due. She poured her heart and soul into training, and she saw results.
(She also saw her parents less. And her brothers, too.)
Lian visited when he could. She appreciated that. She hadn't seen Jordan since he moved out. And it hurt. She understood why he had to get out. She got out too, but she just wished he visited.
In training, she was starting to gain a sense of who she could be. She learned how strong she was. She was a strong fighter, one of the stronger students in her grade. When school came back each fall, she never slacked on her training.
Trainers praised her. Other students did, too.
(What could she have been if her parents had offered her those same kind words?)
Coming home still wasn't easy for her. When she was home, she hid out in her room. She figured if she was quiet enough, her parents wouldn't think she was home. It was her best defense tactic, and she used it well.
There was one particularly rough night where that was simply impossible. She could hear the yelling between her mom and dad before she opened the door. At that moment, she considered turning around. She knew she shouldn't have entered the house. But she had nowhere else to go, and it was a particularly late evening.
So as soon as she walked inside, all the anger that her parents directed toward one another shifted to her.
Cali wouldn't talk about that night. Not to her brothers, or her trainers, or anyone. After the dust settled, and the bleeding stopped, she packed everything she could into a large backpack and went back to the training academy.
She knew there were rooms offered to older kids, the ones who were in tight competition for the volunteer spot. She prepared a speech in her mind during her walk there, thinking she would have to persuade them to offer her one of those rooms. But one of the secretaries saw her bruised face and pointed her straight toward them.
Her room was small. The wood was bowing in some places, and the walls desperately needed a fresh coat of paint, but it was safe.
She thought this would begin the third part of her life. She thought nothing could be better than it. She was wrong.
1 year ago
"This is the first floor. The kids here are generally older, richer, or have more potential," Cali explained to the boy with a goofy grin on his face. She knew him from training, Ronan Nieimi. He hardly knew her, though.
"So you must be in the first room," Ronan asked with a silly little smirk. Cali shook her head.
"I'm on the second floor. Which, you will be too," Cali's stoic voice did not go unnoticed by her new floormate. She led him up the stairs and down the hall of the old building.
"So the kids up here, less potential?" Ronan asked with a weak laugh.
"Maybe. Or they're just younger. Or started training later," Cali answered. She had been living in the same room since she was fifteen, and that's how she preferred it. It was familiar to her. A comforting place.
She stopped in front of his door. "This is you."
"Cool. Uh, thank you. I'll…see you around?" He rubbed the back of his neck. Cali didn't know what to make of him.
"Sure," she dipped down the hallway and into her own room.
With the door shut, Cali realized why that conversation felt so different. She had been living in the training academy for years, and never once had any other student been that invested in what she was saying.
It felt nice.
Time passed, and Cali continued to pour her heart into training. When Ronan saw her training, he would smile and wave at her. She started to wave back.
Now that eighteen was looming upon her, she started to take notice of the class stats. And what she did notice was that despite the years of practice and undevoted energy, she was never the top performer.
It might have been due to her late start. Or the fact that she still would flinch under certain circumstances. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. She was disappointed in herself.
(What would she do when she was too old to volunteer? The academy was generous to let her move in at a young age. They wouldn't be so generous a second time.)
She couldn't move back home. She refused. She couldn't deal with that pain again. She had spent so long away from it. What would she do? What could she do?
Luckily for her, Ronan Nieimi had a plan. And he presented it to her when she least expected it.
She had stayed after the normal training day had ended like she usually did. No one bothered her, so she was surprised to see Ronan walking up to her from the other side of the gym.
She didn't get the chance to ask what he wanted before he started going on about how they were both so close to the top, and that if they pushed each other and trained together they could just make it to the top, and he understood if she didn't want to but maybe it would be there best shot because they only had a year left and then they would be too old-
Cali had to stop him. She agreed. Reminding her of how close she was, and how far she still had to go, she'd take all the help she could get. Fortunately for her, she was not overwhelmed with the pride that many were. No, she liked his logic.
(And maybe she liked him, too.)
So it was settled. When they weren't in school or in mandatory training, they were training together. Cali's lone hours were filled with another person, and it was nice. They both improved very quickly.
Cali found herself enjoying her time with him. At some point, he found a way to get onto the rooftop of the living quarters they lived in. They frequented it, watching the sunset and getting lost in the stars. It was there she learned a lot about him, and he learned a bit about her. She didn't talk about her home life, and he was smart enough not to ask.
Ronan Nieimi uprooted Cali's life in the best way possible. Now she knew that this was when the third part of her life began, the part she never wanted to let go of.
Ronan Nieimi, 18, District 4
8 years ago
Ronan ran across the sand that slipped underneath him, trying to keep up with Rohan and Roman. Laughter filled the air around them, and those who were passing by smiled at the little Nieimi brothers.
With all three of them close in age, Ronan cannot remember a day he didn't have either of them by his side, and he was thankful for that. He didn't want to live a life without them. Rohan, and his friendly and dedicated aura. Roman, with his more reserved but incredibly intelligent fight about him. And Ronan.
"Boys!" the familiar aggressive voice of their mother stopped them in their tracks. She stood with her arms crossed at the edge of the beach, glaring at Ronan with the same look she usually gave him.
(Always the middle child.)
The boys didn't have to ask questions. They listened to their mother and walked over to join her.
"Rohan, dear. You must be training. You haven't a moment to spare." She placed her hand on his shoulder and Ronan could sense the unease from his older brother.
"Yes, mother," he said, looking solemnly at his brothers.
"Come along. And you two, you have chores to finish," her voice shifted from pleasant to unsettling within seconds as she turned to address her younger sons.
Ronan and Roman didn't argue otherwise. They followed their mother home, as she rattled on about the rest of the day's activities. But Ronan wasn't listening. His mind was in the clouds, and his heart was still running along the beach.
6 years ago
Ronan stood at the easel in his room, adding another small, blue stroke to the canvas that sat in front of him.
The scene was relaxing. An image of the beaches in his backyard, one Ronan was so familiar with.
(One that he missed, so dearly.)
Playing outside was not a luxury Rosalen Nieimi offered her sons often. With Rohan aggressively training every single day, and Roman stuck in his studies, Ronan was definitely treated as the least prospective brother.
(He pretended he didn't care. He held his head up high in public, pasting a smile on his face was what he was best at.)
He added another blue stroke to the canvas, then set his brush down.
(Even for twelve, Ronan wasn't too bad.)
He took his palette and brush to his bathroom and cleaned up. Just as he finished, and shut the water off, he could hear voices from the kitchen.
(They didn't sound happy.)
He couldn't make out some of the words, but he could tell it was his mother and Rohan fighting. It wasn't often Rohan would disagree with their mother, so Ronan was extra concerned.
(When was the last time he had a long and true conversation with Rohan? Ronan couldn't remember.)
He set his supplies down and poked his head out into the kitchen. His mother looked angry, and Rohan looked like he just finished training. His face was red and sweaty, and he looked out of breath.
Rohan's eyes locked with his brothers and suddenly Rosalen turned as well. Ronan felt like a deer frozen in a hunter's sight.
"Ronan, dear. Come out of there," she said. He obliged.
"Mom-" Rohan tried, but was cut off.
"Would you be interested in joining your brother at the academy, for training?" her voice was soft. Ronan should have been more wary. But the idea of doing something with his brother, it excited him too much to think twice.
And so it was official. Ronan joined the academy with Rohan, training most days after school. Ronan wasn't the best, not by a long shot. But he was able to do what he did best and talked his way into a social circle.
After joining, Ronan thought he would be able to spend more time with Rohan. But the opposite was true. The oldest Nieimi brother continued to drift away.
(And the worst part was Ronan was so focused on himself he hardly noticed.)
1 year ago
"Where's Rohan?" Roman had barged into Ronan's room while he was painting, bringing words that would change Ronan's life.
At first, Ronan didn't think twice about it. With the reaping amongst them, Rosalen had been pushing Rohan extra hard. It's no wonder Rohan wanted a break.
But the day went by and Rohan was nowhere to be found. A full-out investigation was launched.
Searching was futile. Rohan Nieimi was nowhere to be found.
(How could this happen? How could Ronan allow this to happen?)
Tensions were high in the Nieimi household. Rosalen's anger was directed more at her other two sons. And for once, more to Ronan.
At first, he wanted nothing to do with her idea. It didn't matter that he had been training alongside Rohan, Ronan was not equipped to be District Four's chosen volunteer.
(But something was not right. Rosalen seemed just a little too unconcerned about her oldest son's disappearance, and more concerned about losing out on a Nieimi victor.)
Ronan was not afraid of Rosalen changing his life. He feared for Roman. She could do whatever she wanted to Ronan, but he would not let her go after his younger brother.
(Was this why Rohan was arguing with their mother in the kitchen? Was he trying to protect his little brother from the pressure that came with training?)
Ronan reluctantly agreed to these terms and went into training overdrive. The years of non-committed training caught up to him, and he learned fast just how far behind he was compared to others his age.
(What the hell was he to do?)
He kept at it, though. Whatever social standing he had, was gone. He was one of the first to the training gym in the morning, and one of the last to leave at night.
(Except for a girl. A girl whose name always slipped Ronan's mind.)
Ronan made some strides, and the trainers noticed that. And with the Nieimi's standing, it didn't take much for them to offer Ronan a room in the training quarters. He would be one of the younger trainees, but it would give him an edge.
(It would give him a lot more than just an edge, but Ronan didn't know that yet.)
4 months ago
Ronan Nieimi never thought Caliadne Karpathos would change his life so much, but he couldn't imagine life otherwise.
She snuck up on him out of nowhere. She had been around the training academy at least as long as he had, if not longer. Ronan was embarrassed he had gone this long without noticing her.
(Add it to the list of regrets he had.)
Somehow, he had convinced her to train alongside him to give them the edge against the other trainees. And somehow, it worked. They had been chosen to represent District Four in the 110th Hunger Games.
He stood at his blank canvas, wet paint dripping off his brush. He set up with an idea in his mind, but that idea left as quickly as it entered.
He set his brush back down and left his room to head straight to Cali's. The door was unlocked, and he walked straight in like he had done time and time again.
He took a seat on the edge of the bed and started rambling about…he didn't even remember. Something about training, or the painting, or something entirely different even. It took a few minutes of him talking and Cali not responding before he realized Cali wasn't even in there. He was face to face with a boy he couldn't put a name to, but one that looked very familiar.
The boy introduced himself as Lian Karpathos and Ronan's face turned red with embarrassment. Ronan had heard about Lian plenty of times, and he knew Lian still visited Cali every once in a while.
"I came to give Cali her birthday present. And to…see how she was doing," he said after Ronan asked him what was up.
Ronan knew what Lian was referring to, at least in some sense. It was a few months ago Cali had to return home to get her birth certificate. Ronan had wanted to go with her, but she wouldn't let him.
When he saw her bruised eye and swollen lip, he wanted to set her parent's house on fire.
Lian had filled in the rest of the details, about their parents, and him and Jordan. Ronan felt sick. It made his home life look like a dream.
"Her birthday?" Ronan had to fixate on that. He couldn't bear the other thoughts. He…he cared too much about her.
Lian told him her birthday was just a few days away. And Ronan knew what he was going to do.
He went back to his room and started painting.
And he painted all afternoon, and into the evening. A beautiful depiction of their view from the roof, where they spent plenty of time together.
When the sun started to peek through his window, he carefully took the dried canvas and brought it up to the roof. He hid it under a protective tarp and spent the rest of the early morning decorating the area with flowers, balloons, and a small cupcake with a candle.
It wasn't hard to convince her to come up there with him. Ronan remembered her face when she saw what he had done. And when he pulled out the canvas, she was speechless. For a split second, he was worried he overstepped. But the look she gave him sent a flutter in his heart.
And he doesn't know what came over him. Whatever it was, he doesn't care. He leaned in and kissed her. And she kissed him back.
And for just a moment, all was good in Ronan Nieimi's life.
Our next trio! Thank you Zevoros for Eleanora, rising-balloons for Cali, and timesphobic for Ronan! I hope you all enjoyed their totally normal and happy lives!
Big thank you to goldie-031 for looking over it for me!
Next up, Mishra, Davidson, and Oswaldo. See ya in two weeks.
~Moose