Hey, nobody wants to sponsor anybody so far? Wow. Here I thought people got attached to tributes! Please note that with the exception of the tribute's authors (creators, writers, parents, etc.), NOBODY has any sponsor points so far. This means that you non- authors have no say in who gets sponsored when.
That being said, I will continue posting at least one question per chapter. As I do not update regularly (still working on that), the majority of my questions will not be time-limited to the next update. However, I have a tendency to ask questions that are targeted towards a specific fan base, so I will try to ask several different questions this chapter.
The next tribute to walk onstage and be greeted by Aradon is the little volunteer girl from District 7, Allela Bucker. She is a tiny redheaded thing with gorgeous pine-green eyes so dark they look almost black, and her skin is pale and almost fragile-looking. Her skin looks as though it will burn the second a ray of sun hits it, and this pale skin is only made paler by the black-as-night top to her sleeveless, princess-paneled knee-length dress. The skirt is pleated and a gorgeous shade of lavender with a big, black-and-lavender striped bow sitting right at the bellybutton line pretty as you please. A big lavender bow sits atop her mess of red sausage curls, and her makeup is innocent and youthful. It is clear her stylist wanted to make her seem as innocent as possible, and I do not blame him. Allela is tiny, and tiny tribute do not often last long in the Games.
Aradon greets her gladly and announces her to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, ALLELA BUCKER, the unexpected volunteer from DISTRICT SEVEN!"
They sit on their respective seats, Aradon smiling gently at the young girl. "Allela," he says conspiratorially, "I think I speak for everyone when I say that we were shocked when you volunteered! Could you explain for us why you did that?"
"Oh, Mr. Flickerman, that's a long story. I don't know if I have enough time!"
"That's quite all right. Just tell us as much as you can, won't you?"
Allela smiles bleakly. "Alright."
And she begins her story.
"My father was killed when I was eight for stealing a pear from an orchard. Stealing is such a terrible crime, as it causes others to go without, so he was publicly executed. My mother tried to stop them, and she was executed too. About two weeks later, on a day when my roommates at the community home had been especially mean, Belle had found me crying in one of the less trafficked hallways in school. Instead of laughing at me, Belle let me cry on her shoulder and comforted me. Then she invited me to her house for dinner and after that, her family just kinda took me in. They couldn't let me live with them, but they made sure I almost always had a decent meal and good food to eat. They became my family when I didn't have one. I had to repay them somehow."
Aradon wrinkles his forehead sadly and dabs delicately at his eyes. "Allela," he says sadly, "I had no idea. I'm so sorry."
Allela smiles gently. "It's all right, Mr. Flickerman. It's all right."
As the buzzer goes off, I can't help but think she sounds remarkably as though she is trying to convince herself more than she is Aradon.
The next Tribute on the stage is Jack Roader, the obnoxious mayor's son tribute from District 7. He is wearing a black velvet three-piece suit that, and though it fits him well, the suit only emphasizes the fact that his skin is a pasty, disgusting pale color.
Jack's posture emphasizes his disgusting attitude and lack of care in his personal appearance and hygiene. I feel sorry for his stylist and prep team. Jack moves more along the lines of an oozing ball of slime (he looks like it too) and less like a human being walking to his couch on the stage. Even Aradon, who knows how to handle almost everyone and knows how to keep his true feelings in check and out of view, looks repulsed by this spoiled, slimy, narcissistic tribute.
"So, Jack," Aradon begins, "How has your stay in the Capitol been so far?"
Jack gives Aradon a grudging look and sighs like he's a martyr. "It's been… okay. I guess."
"Your favorite part, perhaps, has been…?"
"Well the prep teams were nice. At least they know how to treat someone of importance!"
"I see," mutters Aradon. "What do you mean?"
"I am the son of the district Mayor. I deserve respect, I deserve to be treated well. My stupid little district partner has no respect for my station in life – she acts as though she's just as good as me! Do you know she addressed me by my first name this morning at breakfast? No respect for her betters. None whatsoever, and I could make her life miserable!"
Aradon looks miserable – tired, bored, and pissed off. I don't blame him. This boy has managed, in his short fifteen years of life, to become a narcissistic ass with an inanely oversized ego and hyper-inflated sense of importance. How could his parents have allowed this?
Aradon looks like he's about to try again when the buzzer goes off, and then he just looks relieved. "Well, Mr. Roader, it's been a wonderful experience talking to you. Best of luck in the Games tomorrow!"
Jack glares at him. "No stupid buzzer is going to tell me an interview is done! The cameras love me. I'm so much more important than any other tributes here! Wait, no don't – hands off, you idiot – LET GO OF ME!"
Due to his unwillingness to cooperate, Jack too is lead offstage by security. This really is an interesting batch of tributes this year!
Aradon turns around, adjusting his coat, and smiles at the audience. "Well now, folks, now that THAT'S over, let's give a warm welcome to Miss MAZELLA BANCROFT of DISTRICT EIGHT!"
The audience cheers loudly, stomping their feet and clapping, and it is clear Mazella is a favorite. How, I'm not sure, as we haven't had all that much interaction with her, but still. It might be her age (she's only twelve), or her perfect figure, but she's very much an obvious favorite.
Mazella steps out of the stage wing and walks softly to the middle of the stage, taking a seat opposite Aradon, who smiles at her gently. "Mazella," he says, "it's so very nice to meet you at last! Ever since your reaping I've been wondering when I'd get to meet you in person. How are you? How was your family when you last saw them?"
Mazella smiles. "Everybody was sad to see me go. Dragon, my little brother and Butterfly, my little sister, they're seven and six. They don't really get what's going on, but they were crying and sad. My mom barely kept it together. My dad was all about "this is a great honor," and he's right, but I don't know if I can win! Thankfully my district partner, Tanner, he said he'll take care of me. He's so strong, I don't think anyone will be able to hurt me with him around. I know it will make Mom and Dad happy, knowing I have someone looking out for me. It's too bad I have to fight, I don't like fighting. Dad says fighting is necessary to keep us from forgetting our place, and he's always right. I don't really like But I have to make my family proud, and Dad will love me so when I get back home. Maybe they'll even let Tanner go home if we're the last ones in the Games together!"
Aradon smiles sadly. "Maybe they will, darling. Maybe they will."
Tanner Craven is the next tribute on stage, and though he doesn't quite cut as impressive a figure as Blake or Mars or even Axl, it is obvious he has taken care of himself. His black suit is finely tailored, and the navy piping not only accents, but also enhances his dark blue eyes. He wears a finely crafted easy smile that I know is designed to endear people to him and I dislike this Tanner Craven immediately. Seriously, though, even his name is villainous. But this Mazella girl seems to be a decent judge of people in general, so maybe he isn't all that bad.
"Mister Aradon Flickerman!" Tanner says as soon as they are both seated again. "You must be right about done. I've got to say, I have no idea how you do it!"
Aradon wears a confused look. "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Craven?"
"You spend hours out here under the hot lights, making us, the lowly tributes from the districts, look good! Really, what you do for us is a kindness, and I thank you for it."
Aradon looks extremely proud, excited, and grateful. He even blushes. "Well thank you, thank you very much, Mr. Craven –"
"Oh, call me Tanner, Mr. Flickerman. I think you've definitely earned a first-name basis with me."
"Then by all means call me Aradon! I definitely think we can handle a first-name basis, and it sounds like you agree. So, what's this I'm hearing about an alliance between you and Miss Mazella?"
A flicker across Tanner's face – frustration? anger? disgust? before that perfect smile is on his face again.
"Of course, Aradon. Miss Bancroft and I have decided it will be in our best interests to ally. There's nobody else we really trust, and competitors always do better with an ally. Besides, who else is going to look out for her? It is my duty as the son of our district leader to protect her! There is no way I will ever shirk that duty."
Aradon clasps his chest and tilts his head back with that simpering, "oh-my-god-this-is-so-awesome-I-can't-believe-it" kind of way. "Do you know, Tanner, how long it's been since I've had the pleasure of interviewing such a gentleman as yourself?"
Gentleman, my arse.
Tanner actually blushes. "Well thank you, Aradon," he says sheepishly. "That's quite a compliment. Thank you."
"I'm serious! I don't remember the last time I had someone so respectable! And you are a mayor's son – Jack Roader is a mayor's son, too, and look at him! He's not really the best-behaved specimen, now is he?"
"Well, Aradon, I do hate to speak badly about my fellow tributes, so I'm just going to have to say no comment. I blame my parents, though – without their guidance, I never would be the man I am today. My father groomed me to possibly, with the Capitol's permission, even be the next mayor of District 8, and my mother taught me that manners actually matter. My parents are the reason I know how to behave."
"Well, let's give them a thank-you shout-out, yeah?"
Aradon turns to the main camera and waves. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Craven!"
Next up is Sunny Ticia, that tall, slim seventeen-year-old from Nine with the little sister who cried during the Reapings. Her long, gorgeous brown hair is curled and pulled back just enough it doesn't fall in her eyes with a green ribbon that matches the green ribbon wrapped around the waist of her pumpkin–orange, sequin-body-and-tulle-skirt princess ballgown that she's wearing. Despite her cheerful smile, I remember how she collapsed at the Reapings after her sister got knocked out, and I think Aradon will be wise enough to steer away from such topics.
"Miss Ticia! You are looking gorgeous this evening! How are you this fine night?"
Sunny smiles gently. "I'm fine, Mr. Flickerman. How are you this evening?"
"I'm doing well myself. Speaking of which, how is your younger sister doing?"
Apparently he isn't.
Sunny's smile and the brightness in her green eyes fades. "I'm not sure, Mr. Flickerman. I didn't receive any visitors after the Reaping, so I didn't really get to find out or say goodbye. Instead, my Escort said I was allowed to write letters, so I wrote one for my mom and one for my sister. I'm supposed to receive the letter from my mom and sister tonight, though, so I'm excited about that. Wasn't it kind of President Vetrios to allow such a thing? Pterois says it's rather unusual. Unheard of, actually, so it was rather generous of our President to let me send and receive these letters. Wasn't it?"
"Very," Aradon agrees, "but what about your dad? You haven't mentioned him."
Aradon can be an incompetent ass sometimes.
"My dad's dead, so…."
"Oh my goodness, Sunny, I'm so sorry! I had no idea!"
"It's all right, sir. He died when I was five, so I don't really remember much about him. My mom said he died in an accident with one of the grain silos. I'm not so sure, though."
"I see. I'm so sorry about that, Sunny. I didn't know."
"That's okay, Aradon. It's a bit better here. At least I have all the food I can eat, and my stylist is really cool!"
"Really? Who's the female tribute stylist for District 9 this year?"
"Oh! She's rather nice, actually. Her name's Scarlett Moonbeam (odd name, huh?) and she's just so sweet. She's quiet and shy and she's got short black hair and violet eyes! She looks so normal, it's just very nice to see someone who looks like people I'm used to."
Aradon fakes a look of surprise and horror. "What, are you saying I don't look normal?"
"Well…."
The buzzer goes off, and the audience (including myself) bursts into suppressed laughter.
"Well, folks, that was the interesting Sundance Ticia, from District 9. Now I'd like to introduce her district partner, Ahron Ember!"
Ahron walks out onstage in a simple pair of chocolate-brown slacks and a matching vest worn over a light tan button-up shirt and a mint tie – gorgeous pairing with his eyes, which are a darker blue set of fantastically by the icy tones of the tie. He sits down easily, relaxing quickly. "Aradon, so nice to finally meet you!"
"I could say the same about you, Mr. Ember!"
"Well, how'd you like my district partner? She's quite the interesting one, eh?"
Aradon purses his lips with mock confusion. "Tell me honestly, Ahron, do I really look all that weird?"
"Well, Mr. Flickerman, I don't know…. I'd say that the entirety of the population up here in the Capitol dresses a bit extremely in comparison to my district. Then again, we are biased. When we say normal, we mean something along the lines of threadbare and possibly ragged. Last I checked, the majority of your clothing appears a good bit warmer but who knows? I've seen some interesting outfits (one very nice one with pheasant feathers) lately that didn't appear to, um, cover much of what was to be seen. Maybe eventually rags will be a fashion trend here!"
"We do wear some out-there things, don't we?"
"And have you seen what you do with your hair? I've never seen so many shades of the rainbow contained on one person's head. Now, I don't know much, but that's gotta do something to a person's hair…."
"Oh, you're preaching to the choir here, my friend. Do you know how many times I've had to have a complete re-conditioning of my hair done?!"
"Oh, and here I'd think you'd maybe stop dying your hair…"
Aradon grins. "Nope, I never learn!"
The buzzer goes off early – maybe to mask the fact that Ahron's next remark is "You capitol folks never do."
I guess these district kids aren't quite as respectful as they should be.
Question 1: Bellarke or Clexa and why?
Question 2: Who do you think should be the next Doctor and why?
Question 3: Dramione or no? Why/why not?
You do not need to answer every question listed here for sponsor points, simply one.
Please don't make me feel like you all hate these tributes! They'll all need help in the Arena, and I'd rather not just give it to them. Besides, I know how good a feeling it is to send help to someone in a story and see it received.
