"My child, when I die, may they bury me in the moon, so I can watch over you every night."

Blanca Bolero, 14, District Eight Female

November 2, Year 77

District Eight City Park

Once upon a time, there was a nymph who lived deep in the enchanted forest. She roamed the forest when the moon was bright and was the best of friends with the birds that made their home there. With her trusty bow and arrow, the nymph kept the forest safe from those who would cause it harm.

Tonight was a special night, as the forest nymph had set out to watch the autumn leaves fall onto the forest floor and sing the trees to sleep alongside the birds. Joining her on her adventure was a jabberjay, her most talkative friend.

"Anyway, I kept telling her to dump him, but she just won't listen! She never does! He's just not right for her."

The jabberjay flew alongside the nymph, telling her about her day. The nymph wanted to tell the jabberjay to be quiet so as to not disturb the trees, but she couldn't bring herself to silence her friend.

"Well, if he breaks her heart, she won't be crying on my shoulder. Not that she would anyway. She'd probably just tell me to go away. I don't understand why though! I'd help her if she'd just let me! Does any of that make sense?"

The nymph started humming to herself, a lullaby from a faded memory. A few nearby mockingjays picked up the tune.

"Hey! Are you even listening to me?"

The nymph smiled at this, taking in the sights and the sounds of the forest that she was proud to call home.

"Blanca!"

Blanca Bolero woke from her daydream with a startled jolt. She was back in District Eight, with the dreary skies, colorless buildings, and smog. Back in the only place with any sign of life.

"I asked if you were listening!" Mae Cotton, the only person who Blanca could even come close to considering a friend, tugged on her ponytail impatiently. Blanca just stared at Mae.

Mae groaned. "Blancaaaaaaaa!"

"I…" Blanca averted her gaze. "I don't really understand, Mae…"

"I know, I know, I just wanted to vent. No one understands me, you know? I try so hard to be a supportive friend, but everyone just brushes me off! Brenda Cotton even called me a brat! A brat! Can you believe that?"

Blanca shook her head.

"Thank you, Blanca. Thank you for being understanding."

"You're welcome," Blanca mumbled. "

"I know, I know, I'm a lot to handle."

Blanca shook her head again. "No, you're not."

As Mae began rambling off on another tangent, Blanca closed her eyes. She tried to listen to Mae, tried to keep nodding along, but her mind had other ideas. She found herself longing to return to the woods and to join the birds. She wanted to watch the moon, where her parents were, rise over the horizon, and hum the lullabies that her mother sang to her before the tuberculosis epidemic took her and Blanca's father so long ago.

Blanca found herself focusing on the bird song, and the jabberjay beside her faded into the background. If Mae noticed Blanca drifting away into her daydreams once again, she didn't say anything.

The mockingjays were still singing her mother's lullaby, and Blanca felt a sense of peace settling over her. District Eight was dark, grey, and full of smog, but there was beauty within those walls. It was just a matter of finding it.

Blanca went to bed hungry that night, like she always did. There was never enough food in the community home, never enough beds. She usually found herself having to share a bed with another girl. There were so many orphans that came after the Seventy-Fourth Games, due to protests that were violently put down, and the community home had been stretched thin. Blanca didn't quite understand what had gone wrong in that year that caused so many people to get upset. No one would tell her either. The only thing Blanca was upset about was the fact that Katniss Everdeen, the girl with the bow and arrow, the girl that fought so hard to save herself and the boy that he loved, didn't make it. Blanca had cried so much when Katniss died in Thresh's arms. Blanca really believed that she would win.

Tonight, Blanca was lucky enough to not have to share a bed. A few of the girls had aged out and left earlier that day, and some beds had been donated. The extra room wasn't going to last very long, as more orphans were coming in every day, but Blanca would enjoy it while it lasted. She managed to take the bed next to the window, her favorite spot. She could see the moon and hear the birds that were still awake there.

Blanca turned to the bed next to her, where Mae, who was also lucky enough to get a bed to herself, was curled into a ball, shaking like a leaf. Blanca sighed softly and pulled her own blanket off of her. She carefully slid out of bed, making sure not to let the floorboards creak and alert the matrons. The weight of her mother's mirror in her pocket was comforting. In her other pocket, a small chunk of bread, a portion of that night's dinner, sat ready to be crumbled and spread on the windowsill. The children in the community were not allowed to hoard their food. If the matrons found out Blanca had that chunk of bread in her pocket, she would be punished severely, but Blanca was more than willing to accept the risk. The birds had to eat too, and food was so hard to come by for the people. Surely it was just as hard for the birds. They were resilient creatures, but they needed a little help too.

The moon was full, its light illuminating the room in a silver glow. Using that light as her guide, Blanca carefully made her way over to Mae's bed and carefully draped the blanket over her. Mae's shivering didn't stop, but it did slow. Then, Blanca tiptoed to the open window. The old thing had been stuck open for years. It made the large room even colder, but it also allowed Blanca to scatter breadcrumbs across the windowsill without arousing suspicion. She gently crumbled the bread and let the crumbs fall on the rotting wood.

Blanca stood at the window for a while. There weren't many trees outside the park, but pigeons frequented the streets during the day, along with the occasional mockingjay. Mockingjays were the best. She liked singing with them, sharing the songs that she loved. Occasionally, a mockingjay would share a song with her as well.

The moon's light wrapped around the forest nymph like a tight embrace. It was so bright that her shadow danced on the forest floor. The ghosts of the nymph's parents stood by her, her mother caressed her hair, and her father squeezed her hand. They were right beside her, just as the nymph always imagined them.

Her smile was almost as radiant as the night sky.

"FUCK YOU, SENECA CRANE!"

Jann Cotton, 18, District Eight Male

July 2, Year 78

District Eight Underground

The sound of shattered glass pounded in Jann Cotton's ears as his fist plowed through the washroom mirror. Sharp stinging pains rippled through his knuckles as the sharp reflective edges sliced into his skin. Blood slowly began spreading across the cracks that had spiderwebbed across the glass.

Jann kept his fist there for a moment, trying to catch his breath from the sudden shock and fear of seeing his Reflection.

"That's seven years of bad luck, boy." The gruff voice of Ruffle Capone brought Jann's attention to the doorway, where the boss of the fighting ring was leaning against the wall.

Jann pulled his hand away from the mirror and sighed, giving Ruffle a tired smirk. "What's another seven?" He twisted the rusted faucet handle until tepid water began trickling from the sink. He began cleaning the blood from his hand, hissing as the water washed over the cuts. As he was cleaning his hand, he grabbed a nearby towel with his free hand and took a moment to dampen it.

"Sorry, kid," Ruffle sighed. "I told them to cover the damn thing for ya, but they just don't listen. You can't keep breaking my mirrors though. You know that, right?"

"Because I'm your star fighter and you can't have me breaking my hands?"

Ruffle groaned, unimpressed with the answer. "Just…patch yourself up and get ready to go back out there. You know where the first aid kit is."

Jann gave a nonchalant thumbs up and Ruffle limped back out into the waiting crowd, muttering about why they couldn't have nice things.

Blissfully unaware that being the "star fighter" was the last thing on Jann's mind.

Once he was alone, Jann pulled off his shirt and draped it over the shattered remains of the mirror, the lightning bolt charm from his necklace landing comfortably on his chest and bringing him some form of comfort. He couldn't stand mirrors. Sometimes, it was fine, but other times, he'd see his own broken Reflection in the mirror, ready to strike him down like it did his best friend.

It had been nearly twelve years, and Jann still couldn't shake the horrors of that arena, even though he was on the other side of the screen. There were other Games that were their own kinds of horrible. The Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games, the one with the cannibal, still gave people nightmares, but there was something about that autumnal arena that just stuck with him, despite the fact that he had just been six years old at the time. It wasn't just his death that hurt, it was the fact that Krystian Berg stood a genuine chance at winning. His odds shot up, as did his sponsors, as he dominated the arena with his traps and even killed one of the strongest tributes.

Jann genuinely believed Krystian would have won had the Gamemakers not sent that thing after him, the thing that wore the tributes' faces, tore them down, and then murdered them with their own weapons.

It all seemed so pointless. Krystian should have been given a chance, but instead, he was killed, simply so that the Gamemakers could focus on that stupid alliance war.

Krystian was the first person to ever show Jann any sort of kindness. When Jann was four years old, he ran away from the community home. He had wanted to find his parents, but instead, he found Krystian, Luke, Theo, Martine, and the Carlys. He didn't find his parents, but he did find his family.

Until Krystian was reaped for the Games. Until he was killed by his copy. Until the street gang fell apart without him. Until Jann's desperation got Luke killed.

Krystian was gone. Luke was gone. Over time, as Jann's aggression and obsession grew, the others abandoned him, not liking what he was turning into, and Jann was alone once again.

Jann had managed to convince himself that this was a good thing. He had a plan, and if it worked, everyone close to him would be caught in the fallout.

Being alone was best.

Jann pressed the now damp cloth over his cheek, trying to contain the swelling. It was almost routine now. Years in the ring had taught him how to fight, but it also taught him how to patch himself up after a fight. Jann craned his neck, securing the cloth between his face and shoulder, and opened up the first aid kit. He wrapped bandages around his knuckled, making sure to secure them so that they wouldn't slip during his next fight.

When Jann was finished patching himself up, he cleaned up, putting away the first aid kit and splashing some water over his face. He then strode back out onto the floor without grabbing his shirt off the mirror.

Some people in the crowd cheered, seeing their favorite fighter ready to go another round. Jann just put on a smirk and waved. Ruffle facepalmed when he realized that Jann had abandoned his shirt but waved Jann over anyway. "I have a few undercards and the main event for this next batch," he said.

"I think you know the answer to the question you're about to ask," Jann replied.

"Yeah, yeah, main event it is." Ruffle scribbled his name down. "Got a lot of money riding on you, so don't screw this up."

Jann looked at the cheering crowd. "When do I ever?" he asked.

The undercard fights went on, one by one, burly people beating the crap out of one another and while the crowd was entertained, the energy was starting to die down by the time the main event came along.

Jann wanted to laugh. He knew exactly what they wanted. They wanted the same thing the Capitol wanted when they sent twenty-four children out to be slaughtered every year. It was ironic, given just how ready the district was ready to riot against the Capitol, and would have probably succeeded had they not been so unorganized.

They wanted a show and a show they would get.

When Jann Cotton was called to the ring, he strode up with a sort of confidence that he knew the crowd would love. Sure enough, the crowd electrified. Jann smiled and waved to the cheering people. He recognized some of the faces, people that bet on him, people that came out of curiosity, people that he had kissed in the back alleys a few times before.

They loved him, yet it somehow didn't matter that much.

It didn't matter that the man in charge of creating the mutt that killed his best friend, the man who ran the Games for four years before being unceremoniously executed, had been left to rot on the Avenue of the Tributes.

Jann Cotton was not going to rest until he made every last Gamemaker pay for what they did. He would be their perfect little tribute, smiling for the cameras, charming the crowd, and putting on that show they oh so desperately wanted, but he wouldn't give the Gamemakers the satisfaction of controlling him.

They took his best friend, the most important person in his life, from him. Now, he would take the most important thing from them: their jobs, and quite possibly their lives.

Jann's opponent was about his size, a grizzled man covered in scars. Whipping scars more than likely, definitely not smart enough to cover his tracks when it came to these little illegal rings. He was much more muscular, which was fine by Jann. He rarely lost a fight now, and hadn't in over a year. While he struggled against stronger opponents, he knew something they didn't: how to fight dirty.

The man threw a hard punch at Jann's head. Jann ducked, pivoted, and stepped behind the man, holding his hands behind his back innocently. The man whipped around and growled. He didn't appreciate being toyed with, clearly. He threw another punch. This time, it landed, and Jann staggered back and landed on his back, winded from the hit. The burly man stood over him, a grin on his face.

Jann rolled away from the fist that plowed down into the dirt, a trick he learned from watching Amber Reeves in the Games so long ago. He got himself to his feet, subtly grabbing a handful of dust as he did, and took several steps backward.

The man growled. "You little rat!" He lunged forward.

"Gotcha…" Jann breathed. He slung the handful of dirt into the man's face. He gasped, startled, and desperately wiped his eyes.

His momentum kept him going forward though, and Jann ducked down and threw his entire body weight into the man. The sudden impact caused him to flip over and land hard, his head slamming into the dirt.

He did not get up.

Ruffle entered the ring. The crowd started counting, but it was obvious the man was out cold. Their cheers became deafening when they reached ten and Ruffle raised Jann's arm into the air, declaring him the winner.

Jann raised his other arm into the air and pumped his fist.

He was ready, and just in time too.

"Careful what you wish for," he thought with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Because I'm coming for you."

Back-to-back upload days?! What is this? This is me super excited to share Blanca and Jann, that's what this is! Thank you to QueenOfMoring37 for these two! They were so much fun! I don't have faceclaims for them, but here are the descriptions I was given:

Blanca: Blanca is petite with olive skin, glossy black hair, brown eyes and freckles. She's fairly skinny. She looks a bit like Bianca di Angelo from the Titan's Curse.

Jann: Jann is tall and lean but quite muscular. He has messy brown hair that reaches his shoulders and dark brown eyes. He has a lot of small scars all over his body from fights he's been in, including one on his jawline.

I absolutely loved writing these two! Blanca's imagination and Jann's motivations were so fun! The playlist shall be updated as soon as this chapter is uploaded! (Fell head over heels for Gladiator, Jann's theme.)

Quick disclaimer btw: Cotton is the generic surname given to kids in the community home if they can't find any information on them. Jann is not related to Jabberjay Mae.

Next time, we will be saying hello to Tilly and CiCi of District Nine! Hard to believe we're two-thirds of the way through intros! I'm loving all of your kiddos so far, and I really hope that I'm doing them justice!