No major trigger warnings in this chapter.

Loire Lemaire, 16
District 5 Female

Three weeks before the Reaping

With each careful dip into the cup of water at my feet, my paintbrush dyes it an even darker brown. I'll have to change it eventually. But that is the furthest from my mind as I continue to paint.

I do my best to make sure every stroke is as precise as I can possibly make it. Everything looks right, with no mess or faults or accidents. After all, this isn't just some art I'm making for myself in hopes it can fetch a coin or two on the street. This is a professional job I'm being hired to do. And that means everything needs to be as perfect as I can make it.

Right. I'm almost done here and then I can be back in the main room in about fifteen minutes. Trainer Anderson, the elder one, has been quite pushy lately and I get the feeling I may be trying her patience a little. She never struck me as one who waits for good things to come. She wants to make it come to her. She wants to rush until she gets what she wants.

Yet I am a firm believer you cannot rush fine art. Good things take time.

"Loire? There you are!" A voice echoes from further down the hall. Then Yttria bends down behind me and our noses almost touch. "Ooh, did you make this?"
"Please be careful. It's still very wet. I'll need to touch up later."
"Loire, this looks amazing! I wish I was as talented as you!"

"Don't sell yourself short," I tell her. "I've seen your drawings. They are lovely."
"Yeah, but you can sell your stuff. Nobody wants to buy some stupid pencil scratch they can make at home."
"You just haven't found the right market to sell to."

That is true. 5 is...5. And admittedly, I'm one of the lucky ones, with how I've managed to build up my reputation enough over the years that my paintings can fetch a decent amount. It's hard for a regular artist and it's even harder for a street urchin artist. Our district just doesn't have that artistic eye.

Even then I will admit a sense of distaste for the mural I've been hired to paint. Showcasing the glory of 5's Careers my ass. How barbaric. Every year I've watched as two kids sign their own death warrant under false illusions. There's no glory in running a slaughterhouse.

Yttria stands up and steps back so she can experience the full mural. "How long did this take you?"
"Two weeks. And it's not done."
"Yeah, no shit. But still, amazing. If the Andersons don't pay you, I'll personally go to their houses and beat them all up."
"You are not beating anybody up."

"Lemaire! Fortice!" That's Trainer Anderson. "This hallway isn't a meeting lounge! Back to training!"

I dip my paintbrush back in the water to rinse it off and grab the "WET PAINT" sign I left lying nearby, so people know not to touch my mural. It's worked so far; people now better than to mess with wet paint. Besides, the culprits out themselves pretty quickly. Paint stains can be annoying to get out of fabric.

I don't really want to train though. I don't even like it here.

But it's better than the streets.

"Let's spar." Yttria balls her hands up into fists and throws a few fake punches my way.
"I don't know how to."
"Are you even paying attention during hand-to-hand combat lessons?"

I bite back a small smile, thinking of paintbrushes and a cup of dirty pigmented water. "I can always think of something I'd rather be doing with my hands than throwing punches."

Yttria throws another punch my way and almost hits me in the face this time. "Can't be a mean, lean, District 5 Career machine when you have your head in a paint can."
"Are we sparring? Because it feels like you're trying to beat me up."
"I thought you said you don't know how to spar."

"But I can learn." I throw my own hands up. "Let's go. Best of three?"
"You're going down, Lemaire. I'm gonna turn you into a nice red pulp."

"Nobody is beating anybody to pulp." Trainer Anderson, who often lets us call her Alexia, comes up behind Yttria. "I still need to restock the medical cabinets. How are you doing, ladies?"
"Good." Yttria beams. "Hey, are the trainers picking any volunteers or what? Feels like we should know who they are by now."

"No, no plans to pick volunteers this year. Unfortunately, my sister believes that all trainees are not up to her standards." Alexia shakes her head. "Nicole and I have to run our picks by her anyways and the ones we already have keep getting shut down. As a result, we decided not to pick anyone."

"That sucks," Yttria says plainly and I feel I have to agree.
Alexia lets out a small laugh that sounds completely fake. "Yeah, sorry to get your hopes up like that. But hey, if it's something you're truly serious about, I can put in a good word for you two next year."

I just shrug in response. "Trainer Anderson, I'm flattered. But I'll have to decline. Maybe spare my words for Yttria?"
"Oh my God, Lemaire!" Yttria gives me a light shove. "You are such an embarrassment."
"Hey now, I'm doing this for you. Miss Beats The Shit Out Of Starving Artists For Fun."

Yttria punches me in the shoulder. That gets a genuine laugh out of Alexia this time. "Sure thing. I'll leave you be now. Stay safe and try not to rough up each other too much."

After lunch, I get a little more time to work on my mural. Then it's back to sparring, or trying to spar against Yttria. I lose track of how many matches we have, but I can count on one hand the number of times I manage to win. Man, I am not cut out for this kind of stuff.

But it's all in good fun, even though we're both sweaty messes by the time training is over. Yttria slings her bag over her shoulder and we bid each other quick goodbyes.

I head over to one of the changing rooms and quietly wait outside. Elouan and I came to an agreement last week that if I pick up Sidonie and start dinner, he'll drop her off and make breakfast in the mornings. He's probably still in the middle of the extra training sessions he picked up.

A small thin cane pokes out of the changing room doorway; she must be ready to leave. I gently reach out and take Sidonie's free hand. She may not be able to see where exactly I stand, but she knows I'm here and that's good enough for her. It's a familiar enough routine and a tap on the back of her wrist from me is all it takes.

Sidonie slips her cane onto her wrist and gives me both her hands. I begin to weave them in a pattern that may seem like nonsense, but it means something to the both of us. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"Spaghetti!"
"We just had spaghetti yesterday."
"Can we have it again?"
"You don't want anything else?"

"Please?" Sidonie asks, tugging on my hands afterward. I give in, because I don't actually have any ideas for what else I can cook anyways. Pasta is pretty cheap to get my hands on.

Home isn't really much of a home. It's an old loft. There's no heating, no elevator, and sometimes the electricity cuts out. But it gives me a sense of purpose that I can't explain, the knowing I have somewhere to go at the end of the day. And Sidonie and Elouan are here with me.

"Make spaghetti now!" Sidonie grabs my hands.
"I need a shower first. I smell bad."

Sidonie leans forward, until her nose is practically in my hair, and takes a loud sniff. Her nose crinkles up in disgust. She signs back a single word to me. "Yes."

I just laugh.

Later, I'm freshly showered, changed, and actually pretty hungry. It's finally time for dinner. Sidonie sets the table while I boil a small pot of water, then dump the rest of the spaghetti inside. Cook it, dump out the hot water, mix with a little bit of sauce, and voila! Dinner is ready.

Just in time too, as I hear Elouan chuck his gym bag onto the couch. Right next to the next painting I'm working on.

"Elouan! If you break that canvas, I swear…"
"Oh relax."
"That cost me two weeks of saving up."

"I'm not gonna break anything!" Elouan insists. "What's for dinner?"
"Spaghetti."
"Again?"

"Hey, I don't see you helping me decide what to make every day!" I wave a sauce-covered spoon in Elouan's face.

"Mmmm. Smells good. Can I lick it?"
"Just go sit down."

Elouan's chair scrapes the floor of the loft, creating a bunch of vibrations. Sidonie turns to him and then the two of them are quickly talking in our language of hand signs and gestures. I take my seat and then all goes quiet. The food goes pretty quickly and there's no leftovers.

Once the meal is finished, Elouan speaks up again. "Is it okay if I start spending Monday nights at the Training Centre?"
"What for?"
"I promise, it's just once a week."
"Yeah, but what for?"

"It's Trainer Anderson's idea. The scary one. It was some kinda weapons course she's offering for people she's really serious about having volunteer in upcoming years."
I don't respond.

"Loire. She might choose me to volunteer someday."
"I don't think you should."
"It's not your choice to make."

"But it's a choice I could never justify." Across the table from me, Elouan narrows his eyes and I just stare into them. They're the exact same colour as mine. He's always had fairer skin and his hair turned a light brown as we both got older, but Elouan's eyes have never changed their colour. Sometimes, looking at him is like looking at Mom.

"I don't get it. I'm not asking you to volunteer. Why are you upset?"
"If you go off to the Games, what happens to us? What happens to Sidonie?"
"I know I can win. We'll be rich! We won't have to worry about money or the loft anymore."

"But that's a one in twenty-four chance. No, not even. Elouan, I can't lose you too. We rely on you too much here."
"No you don't."
"Yes we do."

"No you don't!" Elouan kicks his chair out from under the table and the aggressive vibrations cause Sidonie to wince. I offer my hand and she grabs it.

"Come on! It's only the three of us left! I'm not trying to doubt you, but I can't take that chance that you might die!"
"But we need the money-"

"Money!? Who cares about the money!? We can find other ways to make money! I need you here!"

"That's always been easy for you, the talented sibling everybody loves! You never had to beg for a factory to take you in! You're always just naturally good at art and everybody comes to you to buy your shit!"
"I'm not and they don't!" I think of the canvas by the couch. "I've had to work hard and spend years honing my craft."

"So have I! I've spent the past two years working my ass off to get this far while you just sit here and paint. You don't even care about training and you pretend to give a shit 'for mine and Sidonie's sakes', but guess what? I never asked you to! And now you're telling me that this once in a lifetime opportunity that I have needs to be thrown away because you're worried about odds!? Because you don't agree with my decision!? Because you're only worried about what will happen to you!?"

"Elouan-"
"Loire!"
"Stop it! Listen to me!"

Elouan stands up. "No. You listen to me. I'm fucking tired, Loire. I spend my mornings in that shitty solar panel factory I fucking hate and then I barely have enough energy to make it to the Training Centre afterwards. But all my work is finally paying off and I can't let this slip by me. I'm finally making something of myself."
"But what about Sidonie?"

We both turn to Sidonie, hands folded in her lap, and tears streaming down her face. Elouan's eyes soften. "Oh no. Sidonie, I…"

"Mom and Tatie always told us to take care of her. Is this what they would've wanted? Is this taking care of her?"
"I know. I'm so sorry." Elouan helps Sidonie from her seat and leads her to her bedroom. Before that, he turns to me and gives me a dirty look for using her against him like that.

I glance a look at my unfinished canvas and then turn my head in disgust. I don't even want to think about painting right now.

"I'm sorry too."

Lunaris Stellar, 67
District 5 Escort

The air was full of clouds and occasional smog.

Unfortunately, it wasn't really doing anything to lift his mood. It was just...depressing. Who wanted to live in a district covered in smog all day? With nothing but a bunch of old factories and plants and dams for a backdrop? At night, you wouldn't be able to see the moon in the sky! Absolutely unthinkable.

What if he suddenly got all choked up and couldn't breathe on the stage? What if that caused him to die mid-Reaping? Then what?

Well...that probably wouldn't happen to him. People always told Lunaris he worried about the dumbest of things happening to the most distant of loved ones, like his father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate dropping dead from a heart attack or something. Solana found it endearing and then suggested they'd try out as escorts for the Games.

At least getting out of the busy and bustling Capitol would do him some good.

The Anderson sisters weren't paying Lunaris any attention, busy talking with each other instead. Which was fine by him because they were really scary. If that was what escorting for a Career district was like, then he was perfectly content staying here. Regardless, he worried that he truly had nothing in common with the Victors and they'd never want to talk with him. You bring up how serious your relationship with the moon has gotten one time, and suddenly everybody wants to shy away from you.

"Hey. Stellar." That was Aaliyah Anderson. "Reaping time. Let's get a move on."
"Oh." Right. The Reaping. "Yes, yes, of course."

Alexia rolled her eyes. "There's not gonna be any volunteers, Aaliyah. You didn't pick anyone."

Aaliyah didn't respond.

The clouds had worsened by the time Lunaris was onstage, turning a dark and harsh gray until a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and the rain began to fell. Gloomy weather for the gloomy mood Lunaris was feeling. Nonetheless, he soldiered on and picked the male tribute first, holding the slip of paper close to his body and under his cape to keep it from getting wet.

"Ganbaatar Tarkhan."

A second flash of lightning near the stage that caused a bit of a stir with the older boys as Ganbaatar slowly withdrew from the crowd. He was on the shorter side, but still pretty muscular with golden brown eyes and long black hair, plus a bit of stubble dotting his face that he had yet to shave off. those golden brown eyes darted back and forth a little before staring forward with a sense of resignation. Clearly, Ganbataar had been hoping for a volunteer that was never going to come and switch spots with him.

The male tribute chosen, and thankfully satisfying Aaliyah, Lunaris drew the next name. "Sidonie Lemaire."

Someone screamed. Sidonie didn't step forward. Lunaris called the name into the mic again as Peacekeeper filed into the crowd to find the girl. When the carried her out, Lunaris's jaw almost dropped in horror at the 14 year-old squirming and shaking her cane along the ground in fear. What had he done?

"NO!" Then a girl with bright blonde hair and blue eyes was pushing through the crowd, as a similar looking boy chased after her. "No! Take me instead! I volunteer!"
"Loire! What the hell are you doing!?"
"I can't let her go; she'll die! I volunteer as tribute!"

The boy sighed and let go of his sister, who ran towards the stage. Between pants as she stopped to catch her breath, she introduced herself as Loire Lemaire, Sidonie's cousin. That got some perplexed applause from the audience who was not at all expecting a volunteer. And clearly the Victors weren't either.

Lunaris wasn't sure how badly he was looking forward to what would come next.

Time to move out of Reaping hell into pre-Games hell. Won't that be fun?

If you haven't checked out the blog already, I suggest you go see it! I've been posting moodboards and song playlists for each of the featured tributes, and there's also a bit of lovely art on there from other readers! If you want to make something for the blog, such as fanfic for art, don't be afraid to let me know.

Next up is the Reaping recap, where we'll get a better look at our non-featured tributes, and then we're launching into the train rides. I'll see you all there,

-Vr