Welcome to wonderland
Look where you're at
Maddest of hatters
The Cheshire Cat
Magical cabins and lovely white rabbits with clocks
Saxony Hampton
District 8, She/Her, 16
(1 Month Prior the Reaping)
...
My ears are constantly filled with the protests of raging men and the victory cries of others as they gamble away their life savings. These noises often make for a tough time to hold conversation with my group as I can only catch every other word of those sitting in the circle of armchairs. However, this doesn't stop me from laughing along with them, clashing my beer against theirs and having the time of my life. It has been this way for most of my life (although, not always beer of course - Father only recently started allowing it) and one would think I am bored out of my mind but no.
"Isn't this just life?" I shout, throwing my head back with a cackle. Everyone around me responds with applause and a variety of sounds of agreement in their slurred, drunk voices. I'm still on my first glass, no getting drunk for me tonight. I glance up at the clock resting on the peeling, red wall of the Sour Cat, the casino, and take in a sharp breath through my nose. 5 minutes.
"Get us another round, hey Saxony?" Violet screeches into my ear, slightly startling me. Sometimes I wonder if she's only friends with me for the free beer I can provide - the Sour Cat is owned by my Father after all - but I could care less, she's a fun time which is all I really look for in a friend.
"I think you've had enough, you drunk. We ought to start heading out, getting late." This is met with boos from the circle of friends and I roll my eyes. "Fine, 'nother round over here!" I yell at the bar. "But I'm gonna head out." I'm met with more boos and shake my head as I slip into a cream-coloured fur coat. I wave goodbye but everyone's already moved onto the next topic of conversation, without another word I slip into the back of the casino.
There isn't much back here, a storage room, a couple of bathrooms and a back exit but it's all I really need for what I'm doing. I slip into the women's bathroom and unlock the cabinet underneath the sink with a key from my jeans' pocket. I grab some clothing, all black, from underneath and begin to strip off. "Quickly." I whisper to myself, now slipping into the all-black jumpsuit. Once I've locked up my old outfit in that same spot under the sink, I rush out of the back entrance.
I wait around back, hiding myself behind a large bin. In a couple minutes, they're here. "Tanner, it could've been an accident!" A shrill voice says from a few feet away. That's Runty, one of dad's men, and likely the most irritating man in Panem. "I mean, how do you know he isn't planning to pay it back tomorrow?"
"Shut it, Runty." Tanner, my Father, says gruffly. "You're not here to argue with me. Where the hell is he?" Runty keeps tabs on where people in The Night Stalkers live and, as much as I hate to admit it, he's pretty damn good at it.
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." I hear paper rustling. "54 Orwell Drive, sir. About a four minute walk from here."
"Perfect." Father murmurs. "Give me my gun will you?" Runty also keeps ahold of weapons when Father doesn't need them, I guess that it's incase of Peacekeeper checks or something like that. "Alright, off you go Runty."
A few minutes later, Father and Runty have left and I'm climbing out from behind the bin. For a moment, I hesitate and look at the door back into the comforting environment of the Sour Cat. But only for a moment and then I'm sprinting into the dark night, keeping close to walls and making little noise.
As I approach 54 Orwell Drive, I begin to hear shouting and roll behind a bush. I peek my head out, attempting to get a look at what's happening and see two dark figures arguing at the front door. "You were trying to steal it, Grant, I know you were." Father hisses and my heart stops. Grant? That's one of The Night Stalkers most trusted men, one of Father's best friends.
"Please, Tanner. My wife is upstairs, I don't want her knowing about this."
"I can't have thieves in The Night Stalkers, Grant." My eyes grow wide as Father pulls the gun from his belt.
"What? Ta-" I don't hear the rest of Grant's final words as the gunshot sounds.
Most would be appalled but I am proud. That strong, brave man is my Father. And I will be just like him.
Wells "Weft" Bobbin
District 8, He/Him, 17
(Reaping Day)
...
I pour a packet of grains into a plastic bowl and grab a spoon from a draw before taking a seat at the table. My parents sit opposite me, crunching on the dry, hard seeds with little complaint. It's what we're used to with tesserae being our main source of food but sometimes Mum will come home with a loaf of bread or Dad with some other baked treat. Wade, my twin brother, and I used to squeal with joy whenever we got a little cake.
It's less often now with prices going up all over Panem, with all four of us working in the factory we are still forced to live very minimally. Wade blames The Capitol, goes off on a ramble about The Games costing too much or something like that. I never pay much attention, lots that comes out of his mouth doesn't make sense to me and I can sometimes get angry when he just won't stop talking.
I turn my head, mouth full of grains as I hear foots pounding down the steps. "Come on, Warp! We have to be heading out soon." Dad shouts and he rushes in. Warp is a nickname that my parents gave him, Weft being mine. They were based off Wade being shorter and stockier as a kid and I being skinny and taller. Ironically, it's very much the opposite nowadays with myself putting on much more muscle. It's why I take out tesserae and he doesn't, I know I'll have a better chance if I'm stuck into those Games. Wade disagrees but he knows not to start that argument back up.
"Ready for today?" Wade says between mouthfuls, taking his seat next to me.
"'Guess so." I reply, looking down at my now empty bowl.
"You sure, not nervous?"
"Yes, I'm sure." I snap which gives a very different message. Of course I'm nervous, my name is in there more than most and to be in the Games...well, there's a high likelihood that I would not be coming out and I'm not sure my family would be able to stop themselves from falling apart after that. It's that thought that leads to me murmuring, "Sorry." Wade just pats me on the shoulder, he knows how I am.
...
We arrive at The District Centre a few minutes before The Reaping Ceremony and Wade and I give Mum and Dad a hug goodbye. "We'll meet up with you after." Mum whispers and I try not to notice the tears growing in her eyes. I hate how much pain it causes her to know that it could be us. Only one more after this and she'll never have to feel that again, I'll never have to feel that again.
Wade leads us into a line and we stand waiting in silence.
"Hey it's Whimpering Wells!" Someone shouts from behind me and I feel a large hand slap itself onto my shoulder, causing me to jump. I turn to see Reece O'Leary, a tall and stocky ginger boy who has never stopped teasing me since I cried when he slapped me in 1st Grade. I stay silent, looking at my shoes because I don't want to cause any trouble.
But Wade is there and Wade will never hesitate to defend me. "Fuck off O'leary." He snaps. Reece sneers at him but lets go of my shoulder. "Here, Wells, go in front of me." He guides me ahead of him in the line and I find myself facing a Peacekeeper.
"Finger." He states and I stick one out. He pricks it and registers me and I head toward my section, Wade closely behind.
We wait a minute or so before The Reaping begins. The Escort is the same as last year, I recognise her because of her unique appearance for a Capitolite - grey clothing, straight blonde hair. "Hello District 8. I am Edith." She says monotonously and I hear a couple snickers. "Your mentors, Onyx Spindle and Wendy Porter." There's a small amount of applause as The Victors come out both of which looking very unexcited about the prospect of mentoring.
"Right. Male first." She walks over to the male bowl and grabs a handful, shaking them over the bowl until only one remains in her hand. Once she's back in front of the microphone, she reads out the name. "Wells Bobbin." I feel a sudden rush of anxiety as my chest goes tight and my knees wobbly. Wade brings me back to reality, his hand gripping my arm tightly, staring at me in worry and alarm.
"You have to go Wells. You have to go." He whispers, almost in shock. I nod, breathing through my nose at a feeble attempt to calm myself down. What a ridiculous thought, as if anyone could be calm during something like this? Once I'm up on the stage, hands shaking at my sides, Edith picks out the female tribe.
"Saxony Hampton." The screens turn to a dark girl, around the same age as me, with curly hair. She attempts to keep a neutral expression but I watch her eyes grow wide before she gets up on stage beside me.
"Our tributes from District 8."
A/N: IT HAS BEEN AWHILEEEE BUT I DID THIS. Thanks to ladyqueerfoot for Saxony and goldie031 for Wells.
- Neb