Hi, everyone! I've finally managed to update this fanfic as well. As you can see, Divine Punishment is not yet closed, so you can still submit tributes (see the list on chapter 2 or on my bio). Submissions are still available also for Love Is the Deadliest Weapon (sponsors). Just remember that submitters have some advantages, but, if you're not interested in submitting, you can still sponsor with your reviews. If you want to submit a character, the forms are on my profile. Thank you.

For the moment, enjoy the Reaping of District 11 :)

5 years ago

Livia Marigold (12)- Citizen of District 11

Sometimes, my father works till late in the plant nursery he runs in town. And sometimes I help him… like tonight. It happens mainly over the summer, when school is out. I watch him, as he's sweeping the floor. He's wearing his usual baseball cap, which covers his deep green eyes and dark hair. He's forty-nine but looks a bit older due to the deep wrinkles on his pale face. Life has not been easy for him. Since my mother's death, he has made sacrifices so that I could go to school. He told me she died of starvation. It's not that uncommon in Eleven, it's just odd in our case, since our plant nursery has always gone well. Luckily, I don't even need to sign up for tesserae. I know that my mother didn't die of starvation for real, but I've never asked my father to tell me the truth. He loved her so much, I don't want him to feel bad. Besides, he must have his reasons for not telling the truth.

"We're done for today, Livia," he says, eventually.

"Really? I'm not even tired," I reply.

That's true. I like raising and taking care of plants, I hardly consider it a job. I like the quiet atmosphere of our nursery, this little corner of paradise.

"I don't find that hard to believe, dearie, but look at the clock… it's almost midnight," he says with a smile.

I snort and follow him outside. The next instant, he locks the nursery. We live not far away, so we can go home by foot, which I don't mind. At this hour, District 11 is completely asleep. You can only hear our steps and the creaking of cicadas. No wonder that people go to bed early, when they have to get up at dawn to work in the orchards. Anyway, I like the peace of night. To be sincere, I've never been able to stand crowded, noisy places.

"Is it me or does it smell of smoke?" my father asks me at some point.

He's right, it does smell of smoke. I can also hear the crackle of flames and see the light they emanate in the distance.

"Why should anyone start a fire at this hour?" I ask him.

"No idea," he answers.

By his tone, I can tell that he's worried. At some point, he starts running ahead.

"Why are you running?" I ask him, but he doesn't answer.

Suddenly, a terrible thought dawns on me like a bolt from the blue. My father is running towards home! Does it mean that the fire comes from our house?

I follow him. He has stopped right in front of our house, panting. Oh, good heavens! It is truly on fire! Tongues of fire are licking and scorching it all. Even from where I stand, I can feel their searing heat on my face. How could this happen? Our poor house in flames! We have to find some water and tame the fire!

Suddenly, my father starts running again… right towards the burning house!

"No! Daddy!" I shout.

I know why he's running. My mother left him a letter before dying. I've never read it, but I know that it means a lot to my father. Therefore, I cannot hesitate. I must run after him!

Once inside the house, the heat is unbearable. I don't know where I'm going, since the roaring flames have engulfed all, I just keep walking at random. In which room am I? Is it the kitchen or the living room? I feel trapped. My body burns so much that I start wondering whether I've been turned into a creature of fire myself.

"Daddy!" I try to shout, but smoke immediately fills my mouth.

I start coughing. I try to lean on a wall, because I'm about to lose balance, but a flame reaches my right hand. I'd like to scream in pain, but smoke is slowly choking me. My sight is blurred and my head spins. I have to go out! But I cannot leave my father here!

"Daddy!" I shout with a hoarse voice.

No answer.

Suddenly, the ceiling starts falling apart. It's a miracle I can avoid its falling pieces. I cannot stay here any longer! I start running in the direction I came… in the right direction, I hope. After what seems like an eternity, I manage to get out. I stumble and fall to the ground. The next instant, someone picks me up and gets me to safety.

"Daddy…" I whisper, but, when my vision clears, I can see that it was a stranger who saved me, and not my father.

The stranger is talking to me, but I can't hear a word. The contact between my burning body and his fresh hands makes me wince. I have a quick look at my right hand and notice that it's covered by horrible blisters. It burns so much that I cannot even move it. I'd like to cry in pain, but my eyes are too dry due to the fire. I feel faint.

Daddy… where are you, daddy? I think, and then everything goes dark...

…...

The day before the Reaping

Ilo Carter (27)- Citizen of District 11

I flip the sign at the door from "open" to "closed". Then, I go to the back of my art shop, where Lavender is about to finish his last project. He has a preference for face paint but has decided for a picture this time. He's painting some people who are working in the orchards. They look happy, there's no peacekeeper in sight… that's why they're happy, I suppose. Lavender has painted only in black, white, and grey. On the whole, his picture looks like a melancholic, old photograph. I like it.

Lavender is colour blind, he cannot see any colours since birth... well, not exactly any colours. It seems that people like him can recognize some shades of blue, indeed. In any case, I often help him pick colours by assigning every shade a number with arrows pointing at the specific spot where that shade is needed. Since he first set foot in my shop, I've immediately understood that art is part of his soul. To me, Lavender has become the little brother I've never had.

"This picture is wonderful, Lavender. As always, you're able to convey emotions with few colours," I compliment him.

"Ilo…"

"Yes?"

"How could you do it?" he asks me.

"Do what?"

"I mean… how could you face all those Reapings?"

When Lavender turned twelve, the third Quarter Quell was announced, and the twist was that only victors could compete. As a consequence, he was spared, so this year it's his first Reaping, even if he's now thirteen. He must be scared.

I take a deep breath while pondering my words. "It was hard… truly hard… seeing two innocent kids be taken away year after year. But you should try to be indifferent, and, at some point, you start thinking that better them than me, because there's nothing else you can do," I eventually reply, shaking my head.

"One could volunteer," he offers.

"But that wouldn't change anything… two lives shattered forever in any case," I rebut.

"Did you lose someone you loved?" he goes on.

I sigh. "Everyone has lost someone… but… let's talk about something brighter!"

"Like what?"

"What are you going to do after the Reaping?" I ask him.

"Why?" he asks back, curious.

"Well, I don't have to work tomorrow, so… maybe… we could start a new project together. What do you think?" I offer.

Lavender is now beaming with joy. "That would be great! We could paint another picture, or… no! No pictures this time! Face paint! I've already got an idea…"

"Hey, hey, hey… pull yourself together, Lavender. Don't you remember what I taught you? First of all, collect your ideas; then, choose a subject and focus on it," I say, interrupting him.

"Yeah, yeah… I'll think about it tonight!" he replies, excited.

"No, tonight you need to sleep, otherwise you'll look like a zombie tomorrow morning. Your mother would scold both of us… you 'cause you didn't sleep, and me... 'cause you didn't sleep," I rebut.

He giggles in response.

"Laugh it up, but your mother can be very severe at times."

That's not exactly true. Cassandra Sunnart is just protective. She's a very supportive mother to Lavender. Luckily, she has never hampered his innate passion for art. She just tells off me, when Lavender comes back home with his clothes or face smeared. I think that deeper down she sees me as another son. In her place, I would be protective as well. Lavender… I don't know… he can win you in no time, but you immediately understand how fragile he is too. You can't help but try to protect him somehow.

"Anyway, we'll think of what to do tomorrow. Okay?" I add, eventually.

"Okay," he replies with a wide smile.

…...

Present day

Livia Marigold (17)- Citizen of District 11

The light that comes from the window wakes me up. I yawn and stretch. I'd like to stay in bed a little bit longer, but I can't. Well, this is not exactly a bed, it's just and old mattress a neighbour gave me, but I don't mind. I get up. First of all, I have to feed my pets: my three dogs- Lily, Sage, Vanilla- and my cat Spook. Lily is a short, white and brown dog with wiry hair and pointed ears. One of her eyes is missing, the other is brown. Sage is a mix breed. She has a fluffy, golden fur and brown eyes. At the moment, she has a broken paw due to a fight with a stray dog. Luckily, the vet told me she will recover soon. Vanilla is a white Pitbull with brown eyes. She's definitely the most gluttonous of my pets. Last but not least, Spook is a stray, ginger kitten. I'm worried about him, he hasn't eaten anything for days and, when he eats, he immediately pukes. I'll take him to the vet as soon as possible.

I love my pets, they have kept me company since… five years ago, a fire destroyed my house. I made it out, but my father didn't. Pain fades, but it can leave scars. My right hand was heavily burnt, I cannot use it any longer. Luckily, I'm ambidextrous. My house was never rebuilt, that's why I've moved to the plant nursery. This place has become my home and my life. I sleep in the little room that adjoins the greenhouse and that I use also to receive my customers. I attend school in the morning and work in the afternoon. Being so busy all the time, I haven't got any real friends, but I don't mind. I've got my job and my pets, and that's enough for me.

I have a meagre breakfast- just two slices of bread with a little olive oil on them- because I can't really eat much at the moment, my stomach is in a knot. Today, it's Reaping day. It took me a while to get the nursery started again after the devastation brought about by the war. I still need to sign up for tesserae- as I did last month- because I invest all the money I earn in the nursery... as a consequence, I've got many extra slips with my name in the Reaping ball. I can't help but worry about it. If I got reaped, who would look after my pets? Who would look after the nursery? Ah, I'm not going into the Hunger Games! Just two more years, and I'll be safe!

I get dressed. Since I'm going to go back to the nursery immediately after the Reaping, I'll choose what I usually wear at work, except for the apron- a long-sleeved, mint green shirt, black shorts, black gloves, and striped, pale blue boots. No one is supposed to work today, but what else could I do?

I go to the main square by foot. The streets are slowly filling with people, but an unnatural silence reigns. Many would find it awkward or frightening, but I don't. I like silence, it helps me relax. But when I eventually get to the square, the situation is different. People are chatting animatedly, and the place is chock-a-block. I hate crowded places, but I can't avoid them this time. I reach my section, which is the second one starting from the stage in front of the towering Justice Building. I spot some of my classmates around me, but, for the rest, all the seventeen-year-olds are perfect strangers to me. The mayor of Eleven mounts the stage and gives a brief speech, then it's the escort's turn. I gape when I see her. Normally, Capitolites want to look young at all costs, but this woman… she looks older than she is! She's wearing a curly, pearl white wig, round glasses, and a white and blue pantsuit made of tartan.

"Hello, District 11! My name is Vanilla Domitilla, and I'll be your escort for this year!" she chirps, putting emphasis on every word she utters, as if she was speaking to babies.

I don't know if I should feel offended or just burst out laughing, because the escort has the same name of my Pitbull.

"Now, let's go down to business! We have no time to waste, after all!" she goes on, while approaching the girls' ball.

She picks up a slip of paper at random, without even looking at what she's doing. How can she be so indifferent?

"Livia Marigold!"

No… it can't be… that's my name… she called my name! With trembling legs, I leave my section and mount the stage.

"Welcome onstage, Livia! And now, for the boys… Lavender Sunnart!"

As soon as the escort calls the name of my district partner, you hear a woman cry from the crowd. His mother, I suppose. I watch him, as he's mounting the stage. He has fluffy, ashy blonde hair and blue-grey eyes. On the left side of his face, there are some butterflies painted. He's wearing a light blue sweatshirt with two white stripes across it, denim jeans, and white boots with paint on them. Definitely not a typical citizen of District 11... not that I'm a typical citizen of this district myself.

"Dear citizens of Eleven, I give you your tributes… Livia Marigold and Lavender Sunnart! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" says the escort, eventually.

Once in the Justice Building, we're assigned a private waiting room for visitors, but I don't expect to get any. It's a simple room with whitewashed walls, a couple of blue couches, and a window with bars. I peer out the window and see some peacekeepers keep watch. They have to make sure tributes don't try to escape. I feel trapped. What will happen to my pets? What will happen to my plant nursery? For the first time in so long, I feel alone and powerless. This thought makes me cry. I've made sacrifices to get a decent life, but it was all useless, I'm not going to come back.

Suddenly, someone puts their hand on my shoulder. I wince with fear. I turn around and see that it's old Helen- a neighbour. She has a concerned expression on her face.

"How are you, kid?" she asks me.

"Why are you here?" I ask back, wiping away my tears.

"I thought you would appreciate my visit," she answers.

"Yes, I do, but… why? We never speak together…"

She sighs. "Being associated with your family could be dangerous, you know, after what your mother did…"

"What did she do?" I ask, interrupting her.

She stares at me, unbelieving. "I thought… I though your father told you," she says, embarrassed.

"Told what?" I insist.

"Nothing important."

"No, you have to speak, now!"

"Your mother was a rebel," she says, after a pause.

"No way! She died when I was only three!" I rebut.

"The rebellion had started long before Katniss Everdeen made her appearance. Nothing concrete… people were just planning to do something. In any case, your father lied to you. When you were three, he just took you away, but your mother was still alive at the time," she explains.

"She would never abandon me!"

"She had to. Your father thought that her involvement would put you at risk, and he was right. Your mother died during the rebellion. In any case, I don't think the name of Glory Marigold is that notorious in the Capitol, but be careful anyway, they will never let a rebel's child win."

"Knowing nothing would be better, then… I must thank you, anyway. Please, take care of my pets and my nursery, while I'm away. I have no one else to ask."

"I'll do my best," she replies with a reassuring smile.

At least, I can die knowing that everything I hold dear- my nursery, my beloved pets- is safe. Better than nothing, right? I sadly remark, even though I can hardly hold back my tears.

…...

Lavender Sunnart (13)- District 11 male tribute

It can't be true. I've been reaped, I'm going into the Hunger Games. That's cruel! That's unfair! I'm too young to die! I've got so many ideas… so many works of art to make before dying. I curl up in one of the couches of the waiting room and cry. It's not even very comfortable, the fabric is quite rough. Great. Anything to make tributes feel worse than they already do.

The door bursts open, and my mother enters the room, teary. I've already heard her cry at the Reaping, when my name was called. It was impossible not to hear her, since the whole square was dead silent.

"Oh, my son!" she says, hugging me.

I can feel her crystal, lotus pendant on my chest. Cold but reassuring… it feels like home. She always wears it, after all.

I keep quiet. I don't know what to say. Making impossible promises would be pointless and cruel. I don't stand a chance to survive and see her again. But I must find something to tell her, I cannot leave her like that!

"Mom…" I whisper.

She breaks her embrace and watches me right in the eye. Oh, I've always wished I could see the colour of her eyes! Once, she told me they're light blue... but they're too light for me to distinguish their shade from what I perceive as white. Anyway, it's not the same as seeing their colour for real.

"Yes, Lavender?"

"I love you," I say and then I burst into tears again.

"Oh, Lavender… I love you too… I'm proud of you, and I know that I'll see you soon," she replies with a sad smile.

"No, mom…"

"Shhh… this not a farewell, remember that."

That said, she hugs me again. When a peacekeeper enters the room to inform us that our time is up, she doesn't complain, she doesn't beg for more time, and neither do I. She leaves the room in silence. After she's gone, Ilo comes to visit me. He's teary too but tries to hide it.

"Lavender… we haven't much time… I just want you to know that you're the little brother I've never had, and that I'm rooting for you. Don't give up on your life just because you're among the youngest!" he says.

"Thank you, Ilo, but we both know how things stand," I reply.

"Don't speak like that! Only losers speak like that, and that's not your case! They will certainly underestimate you, but this can be an advantage. Find some good allies and try to survive. Remember that I'll be waiting for you to start that new project together," he retorts.

"I should collect my ideas, then," I reply with a sad smile.

"That would help. By the way, take this… it's the brush you used for your last work. It was meant as a small present that I wanted to give you after the Reaping, but now it will be your district token," he says, giving me the brush.

"Oh, Ilo, this is the best present you could give me!" I reply and then hug him as tight as I can.

Okay, here we have other two tributes ready to be sent to the Capitol, Livia Marigold and Lavender Sunnart by Nightshade494. What do you think of them? Could their conditions penalize them in the Games? Please, answer these questions in your reviews, I'm curious to know what you think.

Thank you for reading :)