DISTRICT TENNNNNNNNN! This one has been mostly done for a while to be honest so that's why the update is coming out so quickly. We're sooooo close to the finish line I'm foaming at the mouth to get these intros done with.

Thank you to maitaitiu, Grim Apocrypha, Dante Alighieri1308, Skeekiest, and booksandcuddles for the reviews! (With two leaving multiple - love you guys fr and that's kinda my fault for blasting out chapters so quickly haha)

No further adieu! Let's get in to District Ten with Fraser and Rhea!

"Warric!"

Silence.

"Warric!"

"Whaddya' want, Fraser?" A voice calls back at last, a slight drawl to the words as Warric Klinekole steps out from the one restroom of the Klinekole homestead. It had never seemed like much until Fraser had seen his friends' homes. Away from more clustered, urban civilization, a real functioning restroom was a luxury afforded only by the work of his father.

"Just lettin' you know I'm headin' out."

"Sure you don't wanna come wrangle the horses with me?"

"Ha-ha, asshole." Fraser rolls his eyes, huffing in frustration. He didn't understand what his elder brother found so fascinating about the creatures. They were wild. Uncontrollable. You had no time to think when dealing with a horse. No time to plan your next action. The damned things were liable to kick you just because their whims dictated so.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. Don't worry - I'll keep the big, scary horses away from you. Gettin' better at roundin' the fuckers up every day. Y'know they're gonna let me ride one next week? Soon I'll be runnin the place."

"Good. You can have them all, for all I care. I gotta go now. Enjoy your horse-shit." Fraser snickers, sending a playful jab back at his elder brother who simply rolls his eyes and waves Fraser on his way.

"Gramma!" Fraser calls next, meandering his way towards the main entrance of the home. "Grammy! I'm goin' out. Be back before sundown."

"Goin' to see your lil' friend, Fraser?" His grandmother, reclining in her usual tattered chair, lets out a cackle of laughter that causes a flush in Fraser's cheeks. "They call you out for a Reaping's Ever good luck kiss?"

"Going to see my friends. Plural. As in all of them." Fraser speaks through gritted teeth - thought he's not really mad at his grandmother. She'd been nothing but supportive to him when he'd first spoken to her about how he felt, and had encouraged a young Fraser to simply be himself. To not hide who he was and act how he felt. It had been the best advice he'd ever been given.

"Oh, just givin' you a hard time, boy. Go on! Get outta here. Just be back before I go to sleep, please. Your mom and dad should be home by then, too."

There are words left unsaid, but Fraser is bright enough to pick up on the darker meaning.

'Be back home before I go to sleep.'

In case tonight is the last time I see you.

...

Wandering through the streets, Fraser sometimes laments Ten. The constant presence of dust and sand in the air. Arid summer winds that only served to blow hot air directly into the eyes of its residents. Flat, expansive deserts with far-off mountains. It was home, no doubt, and he could never leave - but sometimes he'd still wish home could have been somewhere a little less unforgiving.

Today was no different than any other summer day. The sun shined brightly in the clear blue sky, very few trees rising up to cast any shade. Buildings in rural settlements like this one were long and flat, nearly blending in to the uniform expanse of nothingness.

"Klinekole!"

A voice shouts out, and Fraser breathes a sigh of relief. The sensation is short-lived, however, as his three closest friends bolt out from around the corner, their eyes wide and shock written plain as day across their faces.

"Guys..?" Fraser begins, unwilling to push further until they tell him what's up. This could be any number of things - some practical joke, or something really important. Accusing them of fucking around when they were being serious wouldn't end well - but taking them seriously if they were just trying to spook him would make him look like a fool. It was best to just wait until they gave him some more to go off of.

"Back the way you came! Go, fucking go! Explain later!"

What the hell had they been up to?

Fraser goes along with it, though, joining the group of three in their mad dash until they're a couple blocks away, back to Fraser's house and away from the urban city center he'd been heading towards. Soles of shoes scrabble against loose dirt and crushed gravel as they round corners, everything silent except for the crunching beneath their feet and the sound of the arid breeze blowing lightly.

Eventually, they all come to a stop behind the home, panting heavily and leaning back against the house. Fraser, the least winded of the group, steps up, turning to face his friends as they recover their breath against the walls of his home.

"So..? What's the deal?"

"We... we saw something." The first voice begins, coarse belonging to a girl who currently looked as if she was about to cough up a lung. "Some girl... walkin' along, minding her own business.. We said 'what's up' and she just gave us this... like, weird stare. Like we were pieces of meat or something. So Ossie -" The girl jabs her thumb in the direction of another boy. "-suggests we go and see what her deal is. So we follow her, and, and..."

"And what, Mari?" Fraser presses, his tone growing more insistent. He needed to decipher what had happened, now. That was the choice to be made. Anything that incited this sort of reaction in the normally steadfast group was cause for concern. "What was it?" It couldn't have been that bad, right?

"She... she..." Marietta stammers, her voice shaky and tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. State above, what could have scared her so badly?

"Mari, I got it." Oswin pipes up, placing a hand out in front of the quivering Marietta. The look in his eye is serious, his jaw set and a grim expression on his face. "Don't force yourself."

Meeting Fraser's eyes, Ossie begins. "We lost her for a bit. So we're wandering around the settlement, lookin' for her. Thinking maybe we're gonna ask her what her problem is. Maybe figure out what she's doing out in the wastes like this, cause she was dressed way too fancy to be livin' out here. The stuff she had on means money. So, anyways, we hear some noise from about a block away, run down to check it out, and..."

Oswin swallows, his jaw clenching tighter before he opens his mouth again and continues. "And there she is. Fuckin' stray dog at her feet. Bleeding out. Knife in its side and another in its throat. Her hands... they were stained red, man. She did it. I know she did. We tried to keep silent, but..." Oswin shakes his head, before continuing.

"She noticed. Saw us. Her fuckin' eyes, man... nothing was there. Empty. Looked at us like she was ready to bleed us out the same way. Like she was thinking about gutting us, too."

"Holy shit..." Fraser mutters. He hadn't seen it - but he'd never known Ossie to be a liar. The group was obviously shaken up. Hell, Kerry was in tears, unable to even muster a word. He, too, was almost at a loss. What did this mean? Some psycho was roaming around the outskirts of Ten? Well, obviously, the group should get off of the streets, then, right? "Are.. you guys okay? I mean, she didn't-"

"She didn't." Oswin confirms, taking in a shaky breath. "But she still shook us up. Especially Kerry." Fraser feels a light jab at his side, courtesy of Ossie. Go to them, it said, but with none of the humor that was usually teased when the two were mentioned in the same sentence. They needed the comfort, and were closest with Fraser. It only made sense. It was only logical. That's what he would repeat to himself as he approached them.

"Kerry..?" He speaks softly, his friend looking up to meet his eyes with their own teary gaze. "We'll go inside, 'kay? My gramma's home. And afterwards, I'll walk you back home. We'll all be okay." Reaching a hand down to the quivering Kerry, Fraser is shocked when they grab it with such desperation, pulling themselves up and into a tight hug.

"I'll hold you to that, Fraser." They whisper, their heart pounding through their chest with such force that Fraser himself could feel it. He catches Ossie's eye, and gets a reassuring smile.

They would be fine. Things would be okay. As long as they stayed in a group. Stayed together.

It would all be okay.

What a nuisance.

Did the rabble in the outskirts not know it was impolite to stalk a lady throughout the streets?

This was private business, after all. Nothing some group of bumbling fools could comprehend.

The bleeding stray at her feet had finally stopped moving when she'd heard the crunching of gravel from behind her. Three little idiots, heads poking out from behind the wall of one of Ten's weather-worn adobe homes, gawking at her like she was some mad murderer.

That was not who Rhea Clement was.

She was dressed to a tee - wearing the nicest that a Ten could afford. She often found herself envious of the Capitolites and Careers from One. Their appearances matched how they carried themselves. In Ten, even the finest was not enough for Rhea. Standing out in a district of rubbish only made you a shiny piece of trash yourself.

Speaking of rubbish, she'd had half a mind to take out the three pieces that had come upon her during her practice. It wasn't ever day she got to practice her aim on moving targets, after all, and the satisfaction of her success had been interrupted right at its peak.

Huffing in frustration and shaking her head, Rhea pivots on her heel, turning back to the now still stray. Her first shot had only injured it, catching the unfortunate beast in the side. It had taken a second to hit the throat after the animal had slowed down significantly.

Good.

But not good enough.

Those Careers she saw on the screen would have been able to end it with one fluid flick of the wrist. Their knives would have flown through the air in a perfect arc, spinning lazily until they hit their target, ending the life of their victim quickly and painlessly.

Not that Rhea minded pain. It was always intriguing, watching things squirm. The light in their eyes, the desperation in every movement as they fought to get away from the pain that she brought. But, still, one-shot kills provided the least opportunity for error. Your victim couldn't fight back if they were taken out in one fell swoop.

Well, it didn't matter. People were larger targets than the outskirts' strays. There were more pressing issues to worry about than emulating those from the Career districts.

Like, for example - what would she do with the rest of her day?

She'd gotten her hands rather messy with this kill. The first order of business would be to wash them off. Someone like Rhea couldn't be seen skulking around with blood on her hands. She had an image to uphold, after all! Thankfully, there was a spigot near by. Turning it on (and letting the water run to clear any dirt from the pipes), Rhea plans out the remainder of her day.

The rest of her schedule was pretty clear. There was never much to do on Reaping's Eve. Class had been cancelled for the day in Ten, leaving Rhea with free time she didn't normally have.

Maybe visiting Brielle. The main draw of her favorite antique shop. Rhea was a frequent browser - and not for the little trinkets the little dump peddled. Brielle, though, was a different kind of treasure. Straw-blonde hair and grey eyes that resembled a brewing storm on the horizon. A unique sort of beauty that was uncommon in the area where Rhea had been raised. Something new.

Which meant that Rhea had to have her, like she had to have her knives and her clothes. Another treasure to claim, another object to own.

So what if she'd never spoken to her? Sane people don't speak to their valuables, but guard them with their actions. It brings a smile to Rhea's face as she remembers the crimson splatter that stemmed from Troy Stein's chest, her blade carving just deep enough to warn him to stay back. She'd caught him talking to her property at lunch from the corner of her eye, and the flush in Brielle's cheeks made it clear. She was being stolen away - and that couldn't be allowed.

Perhaps after ensuring everything around Brielle's store was tidied up, she'd end the day with some of her favorite re-runs. The 59th had been a recent favorite for Rhea. She saw much of herself in that year's female from 10, a surprising underdog who had made it all the way to the final 2 before being bested by the raging bull of a man from Eight.

Rhea admired her, to a degree - but it disappointed her every time watching the woman falter in the face of her final challenge. It was as if every decision she'd made had weighed her down, the ghost of every kill she'd achieved pulling her back from her destiny.

The eventual victor had held no such reservations about ending things.

Rhea often wondered what she'd do in situations like these. Obviously, killing the man was at the top of her list. She'd watched the final battle. He'd left himself wide open, sacrificing technique for power with every swing of the brass knuckles on his fists. And yet the girl from Ten couldn't land the decisive blow. It was the first time she'd faced her opponent head on, and she had lost her fucking nerve like the pathetic little dog at Rhea's feet now.

Glancing down towards her hands, Rhea is pleased to find that the blood had been washed away entirely, turning the water and the gravelly soil beneath it a murky red. The corpse of the stray could remain. Some scavenger - human or animal - would pick it up eventually.

Her plan sounded nice! Two of her favorite things, all in one day.

Perhaps mom and dad would have a new Reaping gift for her, too, as had become tradition. They'd better have, anyways. Rhea expected it, now.

And she always gets what she wants.

"Let's switch it up this year, no? Things get so dull out here in your quaint little desert towns, I'm sure. Leave it to the Capitol to spice things up! We'll be picking the girls first, this year!"

It takes everything in Fraser's power to suppress the groan rising in his throat. Lack of tact was common from the escorts - but this one was new. Earlier introducing herself as Cleopatra (or Cleo for short), she'd just been assigned this year; fresh-faced, young, and eager to make an impression on everyone and everything. The joy on her face was evident even all the way at the back of the sixteen year old's section, and it made Fraser sick. She'd been born into the system, same as him - but she got to be on the 'right side.' Enveloped in the propaganda and the brainwashing enough to volunteer to pick the names of the children who would be sent to their near-certain death.

Behind him, there's a cough. Oswin. The two had calculated it. Well, Fraser had. Oswin had nodded and gone along, but with Fraser at the back of the 16 year old crowd and Oswin right at the front of the 17 year olds, they were able to work it out so the two of them could stand next to each other despite the difference in age. They'd been doing so ever since Fraser had entered his first Reaping. It helped to have the comfort of a friend in such a trying time.

Oswin shuffles up, ever so slowly, until he's beside Fraser, nudging at the sixteen year old to his friend's left until the boy scoots over, shooting Oswin an annoyed glance before rolling his eyes and stepping to the side.

"She's almost worse than the old cow from before." Oswin clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

It's true, Fraser thinks. The old woman from before had been blunt and oftentimes rude, jaded by years of relegation to outer districts like Ten. Its scorching temperatures and arid sandstorms had long since put a damper on the old escort - but she had never minced words. Ceremonies went quickly and without the pretense that this was something to celebrate, and there was a certain honesty about that that Fraser could appreciate. Now, as the newly christened escort yammered on, smile plastered across her face, things would be changing.

"Shh." Fraser nudges his friend, earning a jab to the rib from Oswin's elbow. "She's finally reaching in. If you draw her attention away and get her talking again, I think I'll lose my mind."

Both of the boys turn their attention back to the stage.

"Here we are, here we are... digging nice and deep to give everyone a chance - alright!"

Cleopatra withdraws a perfectly manicured hand from the bowl, a single slip of paper clutched in between pure black nails.

"District Ten's 63rd female tribute, and the first name of my career as an escort... let's all give a big round of applause to Rhea Clement! Congratulations, Rhea!"

The hands of the escort clap together a couple of times, though she soon stops when she realizes that the audience does not follow suit. Confusion is evident on her face - as if she can't quite figure out why nobody's excited for Rhea.

The girl that walks up to the stage, though, catches Fraser's attention. The way she moves is rigid and cold. There isn't a hair out of place on her entire body. Long, dark hair is perfectly tied back, a couple of bangs left to frame her sharp, beautiful facial features. Her eyes stayed fixed straight ahead and, as she passed by his section, Fraser was surprised to spot not an ounce of fear on her face. She must hide it well, he thinks.

He doesn't get to stare for long, though, because there's a hiss of surprise to his left.

"No fucking way."

Oswin breathes out, his tone hushed and urgent.

"What? What is it, Ossie?"

"That's her."

"Who?"

"The freak from yesterday, man. The one we were running from."

Fraser's eyes widen. Really? She'd looked so well put together - he had a hard time imagining someone like this engaging in such a barbaric act as described by his friends the day prior. But, the rigidity in her movement and flinty, cold look in her eyes as she stared out across the gathering square made it a bit easier to imagine.

It was as Oswin had said.

Her eyes were empty.

"Feel bad for whoever gets stuck with her." Oswin comments, and Fraser feels slightly inclined to agree. She was abnormal - that much was clear. Ten produced contenders every once in a while, sure, but usually they were transformed during the Games. When they were called up, they were just as scared as everyone else. Which made this particular reaping... different. Fraser didn't like it - there was a sinking feeling in his gut as Cleopatra reached down into the second bowl.

It was a silly worry, though, right? Oswin's words kept replaying in his mind - feel bad for whoever's stuck with her. He couldn't shake that, for some reason. Stuck with her. Weren't district partners supposed to work as a team? That phrasing made it seem less like they'd be in it together and more like the prospective tribute would be trapped in a cage with some sort of predator.

"Our male tribute for this year..." Cleopatra pauses, attempting to build anticipation. Nobody leans forward in the anticipation that she expects.

Who's going to be stuck with her?

"Fraser Klinekole!"

Fuck.

And there we are! Fraser and Rhea... I think there will be a lot to unpack for these two when they finally meet - there are some aspects of their personalities that have yet to be showcased that I think will make for a great show down the line into the pre-games haha

Additionally there's a little bit in there about the victor of my 59th in there... something something you can pry my beloved OC victors out of my hands after I'm dead. He will in fact be part of D8's mentoring team this year and we'll meet him on the train rides!

Any thoughts about Fraser and Rhea? Interested to see what you guys think about this pair! They don't have perfectly matching themes like some of the others, but I think they contrast each other pretty well and I enjoyed tying their stories together.

That's all! We're soooooooo close to pregames auuuuuugh

Until next time,

logangster out.