Welcome back!
Sorry it's been so long, I address that a little more in my A/N at the bottom. This chapter features an OC of mine and covers the reapings from the Capitol. Most of the tributes are mentioned in this, so you'll be able to see a lot of them from a distance and how they might be perceived in the Capitol so far.
I hope you like it!
~ Meghan
"Perception is a tool that's pointed on both ends."
- Hannibal Barca, 247 BC - 183-1 BC, Carthage
The Observer.
...
Aelia Creed
...
- The Capitol -
It was nearly noon and Aelia Creed couldn't find the cheese plate.
"Mother, it isn't anywhere!" she yelled, shoulders-deep in the cupboards, shoving away a rainbow assortment of bowls, plates, salad spinners, dessert dishes, and containers she didn't have a name for.
"It was just there!" her mother's called back. Heels clicked behind Aelia. "Honestly, Festus, get out of the hors d'oeuvres!"
Aelia crawled out of the cupboards, huffing. "I looked for, like, ten minutes. It's not here." She stood up, brushing off her golden skirt. Her parents stood behind her at the glass fridge where her father was attempting to shove several of the appetizers into his mouth.
"Those are for our guests, stop eating them," Mrs. Creed sighed.
"I'm not," Mr. Creed garbled through a mouth of tomatoes and cured meat.
Mrs. Creed rolled her hazel eyes, turning to her daughter. "We'll have to just get the platter."
"The silver one or the one with the rubies?"
"No, the one with bronze leaf."
Aelia sighed in exasperation. That one was buried beneath the cake pans.
Just as she leaned down to the cabinets again, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Aelia shouted, dashing away from the cabinets - well, as fast she could on her four-inch crystal heels. Reaping Day was Panem's grandest holiday, albeit a fairly formal one. Everyone was expected to look their best. For Aelia, that was just an everyday mission as a stylist-to-be. Sure, she didn't have the position yet, but it was practically a guarantee. Everyone knew it.
She stopped at the white door, taking quick breath and brushing a manicured hand over her hair. As expected, her glittering, lilac curls were still intact. The color was new but she'd taken a chance, and it had paid off. The lilac set off her olive skin perfectly. Nothing less than perfect was acceptable. Aelia beamed as the door swung open.
The familiar faces of the Vickers-Ravinstill family greeted her with smiles.
"Hello, Lia, darling," Mrs. Lysistrata said, leaning forward to give Aelia a cherry-blossom-scented hug. The woman leaned back, blinking her brown eyes with a tight smile. For whatever reason, Mrs. Lysistrata didn't share the others' thrill on Reaping Day. She was calm and collected on most days, but then again the medical director of the Capitol had to be. Today she was dressed well in a delicate black skirt and an almond-colored blouse to compliment her dark skin. She always knew had to dress well, and Aelia had to admire her for that.
"I love your outfit," she said.
Mrs. Lysistrata gave her a tight smile in return.
"Don't ask any questions," Aelia's mother had told her once when she asked why Mrs. Lysistrata never seemed as excited as the others for the reapings. "It's something for another time."
That time still had not come, but Aelia had learned to hold her tongue. "Come on in," she sang to the family.
"Nearly noon," Mr. Felix said. He hefted up a basket of baked treats wrapped in shimmering pink cellophane. "Where should I set these? Tea room, as usual?"
Aelia nodded and stepped aside so the couple could head into the penthouse and greet her parents. She grinned at the the two Vickers-Ravinstill children who walked in, squabbling as usual about something or other.
"No arguing from here on out," Aelia said as she gave them both hugs. "It's a holiday."
Kora gave a her wry smile. "Easy for you to say."
Aelia returned her smile.
They had class together at the Academy and were going into their final semester. Graduation would take place in August, right after the festivities of the Games ended. The girls had been friends since they were seven, though, as a result of their families being so close. Kora was practically the spitting image of her mother with her father's freckles - but she had inherited neither of her parents' serious personalities.
"I still can't believe Dr. Orata gave me detention this Friday," Kora griped for about the fifteenth time that week. "She called me today just to remind me! Who does that? Practically a sadist."
"Maybe you shouldn't have released that guinea pig in biology class," Aristophanes snapped, earning him an ear-flick from Kora.
Aelia laughed. Aristophanes was much more like his mother, including her brilliance. He was three years younger than them, but at fifteen he had already skipped two grades to nearly catch up with them. Kora had been terrified he'd be in their classes.
As the three turned to walk into the lounge room, the door opened and a loud voice called out, "Happy Hunger Games!"
"Jupiter!"
Mr. Hilarius sighed in exasperation, shaking his head as the tall blonde boy strutted through the doorway.
Another boy followed, this one a bit shorter with a dimpled smile. "Afternoon, Aelia. Happen to have the chemistry homework done?"
"Yes," Aelia said. She smirked and folded her arms before he keep talking. "And no, Saturn, you can't copy it."
"Spoil sport," he sighed and followed Jupiter into the lounge room.
Mr. Hilarius stood at the doorway shaking his head, a silver covered dish in his ringed hands. "I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall. Sorry, Miss Aelia, I try to teach them manners but it falls upon deaf ears."
Aelia laughed. "Come on in. My parents are in the tea room. You can drop your dish off in there."
"I keep telling your parents they need to hire some Avoxes," Mr. Hilarius said, raising a graying eyebrow.
Aelia shrugged. Her mother wasn't fond of having them in the house. Mr. Hilarius never had a shortage of Avoxes in his own apartment, although Hilarius Heavensbee came from one of the wealthiest families in the Capitol. He'd gone somewhat on a spending frenzy in the years after his wife passed, grief-stricken, but now that his triplets were growing up it seemed that he focused his attention on them.
Mars walked in behind his father, grinning at Aelia. Mars looked nearly identical to his brothers, minus their blonde hair and muscular frames, but his hair was the same brown that their mother's had been. "And how is your day going?"
Returning his grin, Aelia shrugged. "Same as it always is. Mother was running around this morning worrying about whether or not her choice of peony bouquets was apt. Father was trying to wrangle the little ones all morning to the daycare." She shook her head, tossing purple curls this way and that. Her younger siblings - Proserpina, Eurydice, and Liber - were still too young to stick around for the festivities of Reaping Day.
"But Mother, I shouldn't have to be with Eury and Liber! They're practically babies! I'm almost twelve this year!" Proserpina had whined yesterday.
"And once you turn thirteen you can spend the day with the big kids," their mother had responded breezily, sorting through a checklist. "Like your sister."
Aelia had grinned at her little sister.
Proserpina stuck her tongue out in return.
"Poor little rugrats," Mars said as he and Aelia walked into the lounge room.
The space was one of the few that didn't have windows on its walls, but an artificial oval skylight from above provided a beautiful and realistic blue summer sky, complete with convincing sunshine and the occasional birdsong. The area itself was decorated with colorful, plush furniture and an abundance of throw pillows around a glossy coffee table piled with delectable treats.
Jupiter and Saturn had already found their way to the table, each of the boys eating so many macarons in a row that even Aristophanes looked impressed (and a little horrified.)
"The food isn't going to run away, guys," Aelia told them, raising an eyebrow.
"Just testing," Jupiter snarfled through a mouthful as he grabbed a rose macaron.
Saturn waved his hand. "We need to keep up our strength, Lia. We have another wrestling match next Friday."
"How could we forget? You guys won't shut up about it," Mars sighed, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms in disapproval.
"Your jealousy rings loud and clear, Martian," Jupiter snapped back. "Besides, I need to be at my best."
Aristophanes straightened his glasses, his voice clinical. "Is it because of Augustus?"
Jupiter's face reddened. He threw a butter cookie at the boy. "Shut the hell up."
"He broke poor Jupie's heart," Saturn said, clasping his hands to his chest and and smirking at Jupiter. "Said yes to his date only to cancel five minutes before it. Said he had 'better options.'"
"I didn't know, Jupiter," Aelia said, glancing at him with a frown. She rarely felt much sympathy for the two boys but from the way Jupiter glared at Saturn, she couldn't help it. "I'm so sorry."
Jupiter shrugged and grabbed a small sandwich. "It's whatever. I'll break his legs during the match."
"That sounds healthy," Kora deadpanned.
"I love our get-togethers," Mars sighed, tossing Aelia a half-smile. A flicker of confusion crossed his face and he glanced down at his watch. "Speaking of which, where's Ariadne?"
Aelia pinched her skirt. "No idea. Hadn't even thought about it. You know, all the business and all... getting ready." She searched Mars' face as he flashed his watch, nearly at noon. She bit her lip. "You're not worried about her, are you? I'm sure she's fine."
A finger poked Aelia in the shoulder. She screamed, nearly jumping out of her high-heels. Saturn threw a cookie behind him in surprise.
Aelia clutched her heart, turning to find Ariadne beaming shyly.
"Sorry," Ariadne said with a gleam in her eye that suggested she wasn't so sorry.
Aelia gulped and managed to laugh. "One of these days you won't get me, Ari."
Ariadne winked.
"What do you think of my outfit?" she asked, fanning out her red satin dress and spinning. The glitter strands in her dark hair sparkled. Her dress wasn't one of the expensive ones from the boutiques nearby, Aelia knew. Ariadne's family wasn't as wealthy as the rest of the people in the neighborhood. Not wealthy at all, really. But the two girls had become friends in school and Ariadne had become a constant presence. As a result, her parents were invited to the Reaping Day celebrations.
"I give it full marks," Aelia answered with a smile.
Ariadne rolled her eyes jokingly. "You're just saying that."
Before Aelia could respond (and say, no, actually, Ariadne could make anything look good, look incredible,) Aristophanes grabbed the silver remote and turned on the television. A clock in the hallway chimed noon.
Right on time, the Panem crest blossomed on the television and the anthem played.
The reapings were an all-day affair, stretching from noon until 6 o'clock. It was perfectly timed for the Capitol citizens to enjoy their lunch beforehand, snacks and dessert during, and dinner after. It was a meal and show all wrapped into a perfect bow; however, if Aelia was being honest, things didn't really get interesting until the parade the next night. But tomorrow could wait. Today they would have their first look at this year's tributes, and first impressions mattered.
District 12 kicked off the day. It wasn't exactly the prettiest district, but it couldn't be helped. They had to live near all that horrid coal, of course, so the gross dust kind of covered everything. But the clothes could be cute in a sort of retro, hobo-mod way. If she squinted.
Aelia and Ariadne found their way to some soft armchairs near Kora as the camera panned to the grimy Justice Building.
"Ladies first," the district escort said as he walked towards one of the glass bowls. He dipped his hand in, the sun glimmering off the glass, and pulled out a name slip with a smile. He drifted over to the microphone. "Our lucky lady is... Raven Night!"
The camera found a girl in the eighteen-year-old section, slack-jawed in shock. As she pulled herself from an identical girl's arms - twins, maybe? - and into the aisle to walk up the stage, Aelia analyzed her from head to coal-dusted shoe. The girl had an hourglass shape from the way the dress moved, but the dress wasn't too kind to it. Sure, the material was obviously a vintage satin, but the cut of it was horribly wrong. The blue material was basically a formless sack that did nothing at all for the girl's figure until she moved. Her black hair at least looked nice in a braid, though a chestnut dye would probably match her pale skin better.
"Wonder what happened to her face?" Kora wondered aloud.
As Raven Night climbed the steps to the dirty Justice Building, Aelia could just make out a long scar stretching down the girl's cheek and onto her neck.
"Maybe a mining accident?" Ariadne murmured. She frowned. "Poor girl."
The escort moved on to the boy, who ended up being a one Darien Dragomir, also eighteen. The boy ran a nervous hand through his brown hair, messing it up into spikes, and quietly took his place next to Raven Night.
"Your District Twelve tributes for the Forty-second Hunger Games!" the escort called. The crowd gathered clapped tiredly in response.
"I give them about two minutes each!" Jupiter hollered.
Kora glanced at him, unconvinced. "Really? The boy looks sort of athletic."
Jupiter shrugged. "Yeah, alright, he'll maybe make it five."
Kora nodded, satisfied.
District 8 was up next. Aelia sat up straighter. 8 was always a promising one. The people there had much better fashion taste than the other districts, bar District 1. It probably came from their experience with the textiles they produced. She'd seen the kinds of things that the tributes from 8 could make in the arena, sometimes sewing together backpacks or extra layers of clothing for the cold.
"Excited?" Ariadne asked with a knowing smile.
Aelia smiled. Ariadne knew her well.
The cameras panned across the district as the mayor read the Treaty of Treason, showing all the factories with their colorful lines of dyed cloth rippling in the summer breeze. It swept back to the children gathered in the square like an array of colorful candy in their clothes.
The escort sashayed onstage in a lovely blue cocktail dress to the ball holding the girl's names. She chose three slips, considered them all, and then selected one, letting the other two flutter back into the bowl with the unchosen names. She floated back to the microphone, struck a glamorous pose worthy of a model, and opened the slip.
"Pazley Steppe."
It took a moment for the cameras to locate the blank-faced girl in the crowd. Aelia understood why. The girl stood in the sixteen-year-old section as still as a statue. Aelia might've thought the cameras had frozen were it not for the others turning to look at the tribute.
"That's a girl?" Saturn crowed. "She looks like she should be standing with the boys!"
Kora shot him a glare. "Can you shut up?"
"Am I wrong?" Saturn challenged, pointing at the screen.
Glancing at the television, Aelia watched as the petite, slender girl began to move and walk up to the stage. Her outfit was immediately captivating. From the way the materials moved, they clearly weren't expensive. Even in District 8, though, they usually managed to at least wear some old lace or silk for the reapings. But still. This Pazley Steppe had managed to make it look nice with a pair of slacks and a blouse, both in black. Clever. Black clothes always looked put-together. From that alone, Aelia knew this girl was intelligent.
"She seems smart," she snapped at Saturn.
"Her hair is shorter than mine," he argued.
Ariadne shook her head. "I think short hair is cute."
Suddenly, Aelia wondered if perhaps she should try out short layers.
"I'm just saying," Saturn droned on, "she could put in some effort. None of the district kids even wear makeup."
"Girls in the districts don't even shave," Jupiter said, nodding at his brother. "Like, what? They can't afford a razor? Even a shitty one? I'd rather get tetanus than go out looking like I don't respect myself."
"I'm related to idiots," Mars muttered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"Shhhh!" Aristophanes hissed, flapping his arms so excitedly his glasses nearly fell off. "They're announcing the boyyyy!"
Aelia looked back to the screen in time to hear "Darrius Morningstar!" called. Off-camera, a woman gave a cry. The cameras focused on her for a brief moment, just long enough for Aelia to watch the young lady with long pink hair nearly collapse on the ground. Aelia didn't have much time to think about it because the cameras widened the shot to show Peacekeepers going into the crowd. A short, skinny boy who look remarkably similar to the pink-haired woman was standing there, eyes wide, stunned.
Seeing the Peacekeepers coming towards him seemed to shock some life back into the tribute. He stumbled out of the fourteen-year-old section, letting them guide him up to the stage. Darrius Morningstar casted a look back over his shoulder as the pink-haired woman wailed.
"Think it's his sister?" Kora asked.
Ariadne furrowed her brows. A cute little dimple appeared between between them. "Probably."
Aelia watched as the tribute boy walked up the steps to the stage. She frowned. It never really seemed that fair when the younger kids got picked. Thirteen-year-olds never really stood a chance against the older, bigger tributes. Poor kid.
The Pazley Steppe girl peered over at Darrius Morningstar curiously and then went back to staring off into the distance like a cardboard cutout.
The transition to District 6 came swiftly after, blending in with the scenery of District 8. The factories were silent, spread out for miles, before becoming shorter shops on their way to the Justice Building. The people in 6 lacked the colorful clothes of District 8 and instead were a sea of ash-grays. Aelia thought they almost looked like a flock of colorless birds. The only splash of vibrancy was the escort in an electric-pink gown billowing behind her as she drew the names.
"Trip Hewitt!"
The cameras found a dark-skinned boy in the crowd who was probably one of the tallest tributes Aelia had ever seen. He was well over six-foot, towering over most of the others in the eighteen-year-old section. He didn't seem as frightened as the other tributes in the other districts had, though. He just stood there for a moment, confused, and then a serious look settled on his features.
The boy pulled at the collar of his brown, button-up shirt that Aelia could just make out sweat stains on. A breathable cotton would probably have been better for a hotter district like 6. Trip Hewitt didn't seem to care, though. He just climbed up the stage, shoving aside a Peacekeeper's gloved hand outstretched to help him, and stared at the escort with cold eyes.
"He's pissed," Saturn blurted.
"Thanks for that astute observation," Mars muttered.
The girl ended up being Mustang Lane, also eighteen, and with the same furious expression as Trip Hewitt. But Aelia barely noticed the girl's expression as she marched up towards the Justice Building Stage. All Aelia could focus on was the way that Mustang Lane was dressed, as if she couldn't be bothered to change out of her work clothing: a plain shirt (polyester by the looks of it), work jeans ripped in random places and unpatched, and a jacket made of worn leather that probably predated the Dark Days.
Aelia hummed to herself. This tribute hadn't even tried to dress up in her best outfit for Reaping Day.
Clothing, to Aelia, told a story. A person could learn a lot about someone else simply by how they presented themselves. Clothes weren't just fabric and stitching - they were a message. And this girl from District 6 was sending a rather obvious message loud and clear.
Aelia stood up. "I'll be right back."
Kora nodded, enraptured with the reapings, and Aelia swept out of the room. Down the white hallway, laughter flooded from the tea room where her parents and the other adults were watching the television. She took a right down another hallway and pushed open one of the identical doors. Inside, a wash of color doused in summer sunlight from the window welcomed her. The rest of the house was so white with pops of color that walking into her own bedroom sometimes felt blinding. But she loved it.
Aelia walked across a plush, berry-shaded rug to her desk. An array of charcoal, pencils, wax sticks, and other drawing instruments waited. She opened the drawer, pulling out a green sketchpad that held her most recent flat sketches and templates.
"Got some inspiration?"
With a start, Aelia turned to find Ariadne in the doorway.
Her friend grinned apologetically. "Sorry, Lia. Wasn't trying that time."
"I'm going to get you a cat bell for your birthday," Aelia laughed nervously. She directed her attention to her drawing tools, trying to focus on something else. She half-distractedly picked up a couple of pencils, acutely aware of Ariadne walking in the room, and the scent of her lily perfume drifting in with her.
"I always love these photos," Ariadne said, nodding up to the collage of photographs Aelia had pinned to her wall.
The print photographs were a bit old-fashioned, but once she'd started putting them up when she was eleven the collection had just grown. Now it had snapshots of years' worth of memories. Proserpina in a fairy dress putting on a show in the living room. Her mother and father cooking a holiday meal. Eury and Liber playing in a sandbox on their vacation to the beach. Aelia with an inner-tube at the swimming pool. And so many pictures of her, Kora, and Ariadne.
Ariadne reached up and pointed to one of the two girls that past winter laughing in the snow, icy flakes in their eyelashes and their cheeks pink from the cold. "That was a good day."
Aelia felt her face redden. "It was a really good day."
Choosing the picture hadn't been an accident. It was just a week before her birthday and the Academy cancelled school for all the snowfall. Aelia and Ariadne had trudged through the snow to Kora's apartment. All the Capitol children were out in the streets, sledding and throwing snowballs, snowmen lining the salted sidewalks. Aelia had been walking ahead in her glittery purple snowsuit and thick boots, hurrying to get to warmth. She noticed after a moment that Ariadne wasn't beside her. When she turned, she found her friend laying in a snowbank making a snow angel, laughing.
Ariadne had sat up in her red coat, white snowflakes like glittering charms in her dark hair, eyes bright and alive with joy.
One time, Aelia's father had told her the story about how he fell in love with her mother. They were paired in a group project during the 10th Hunger Games in their last year at the Academy. Even though they had been classmates all their lives, something changed that summer.
"She looked at me one day, and I knew that I was goner," her father had laughed, smiling at the memory.
Aelia had never understood back then how something could change that quickly. How could someone go from being a friend to being something more with a single look?
That day in the snow, Aelia suddenly understood. Something changed when her best friend laughed. She knew she was a goner.
"You okay?"
Aelia blinked, tearing her eyes away from the photo. She smiled at Ariadne. "Yeah, 'course."
Ariadne's lips broke into a grin. "You have an eyelash." She stepped closer, so close that Aelia could see the small specks of soft-pink glitter on Ariadne's pale cheeks.
Her fingers brushed Aelia's face, leaving her skin feeling like a crackle of electricity had touched it.
"Make a wish," Ariadne said, pulling away and holding up an eyelash.
Aelia looked at her friend. She was so near that she could see her own reflection in Ariadne's hazel eyes.
I wish...
She blew the eyelash away.
"Hope you wished for your great-aunt to give me a tour of the mutt lab," Ariadne laughed.
Turning away, Aelia tried to shove thoughts of Great-Aunt Minerva out of her head. No doubt the Head Gamemaker was watching the reapings too and would be analyzing them later, tribute by tribute, studying them like she studied everything. That was her problem. She got too caught up in the details.
"You've always loved mutts," Aelia said, scooping up colored pencils, trying to keep her voice light. Thinking about the lab just made her start imagining the smell of antiseptic and her great-aunt's disapproving looks. She wanted to keep thinking about lily perfume and red winter coats instead. "Are you still going to adopt a cat?"
Ariadne leaned against the desk and shrugged. "Dad wants to save up money so who knows at this point." She was quiet, watching as Aelia selected colored pencils. "Not trying to judge the subject are you?"
Aelia forced a laugh at Ariadne's joking tone. "No, of course not. It's just, you know, she'll be busy with all the Games stuff."
"Right." Ariadne gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry for forgetting."
With a dismissive wave, Aelia picked up her last colored pencil. "Don't worry, it's okay. She's honestly too busy for much these days." She grabbed her sketchbook, heading out into the hallway. "Besides, the mutts are kind of... I dunno. They freak me out sometimes."
Ariadne caught up with her. "I know people say they're monstrous, but they can be sweet."
"If you say so," Aelia said, giving Ariadne a teasing look before they walked back into the lounge room. She sat down on her chair, primly crossing her ankles and carefully flipping to a new blank page in her sketchbook.
"What did we miss?" Ariadne asked.
Mars shrugged. "Nothing major. The boy from Three looked like he was going to be ill right there on the stage. Oh, and the girl from Eleven nearly tripped going up the steps. One of the Peacekeepers had to come help her onto the stage."
Aelia nodded. She picked up her graphite pencil, thinking back to the girl from 6 and the way she stood, the dull gleam of the sun on her leather jacket and how her dark hair fluttered in the breeze. Aelia's hand moved effortlessly, beginning to outline the girl in light gray strokes.
The screen turned to a bird's-eye view of District 9. Golden stalks of wheat undulated beneath a pure blue sky like an ocean.
District 9 had always seemed like one of the most beautiful to Aelia. Sure, the brown buildings and factories the residents lived in were a tad drab, but there was such an explosion of vivid color everywhere else. The pop of blue above the gold wheat, the shimmer of the sun above, the green seedlings stretching up from the earth... the whole expanse made her want to draw every time. District 9 was always in the back of her mind to style for, though it wasn't one of the better districts. Still. Aelia could already picture a new gown, one with a sky-blue silk skirt covered in a golden lace-
"Alstroemeria Kane!"
Aelia blinked in surprise, snapped back to the moment playing out on screen.
The escort stood at the microphone, beaming as he waited for the girl to make herself known.
A girl with wispy blonde hair clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening in horror. Instead of walking to the aisle she turned and started shoving her way forward through the crowd, mouthing a name Aelia couldn't make out. The cameras moved suddenly, focusing on another girl in the blonde's line of vision.
This girl stood in shock, staring up at the escort.
"No!" the blonde yelled behind her.
The noise seemed to rouse the frozen girl back to life and she moved from the section of sixteen-year-olds, not bothering to look back at the blonde. She stepped out into the dirt-covered bricks that made up the aisle to the stage. Her face crumpled like she was about to cry but no tears came. Instead, she just smoothed her hands over her skirt and took a deep breath.
Aelia twisted her lips to the side. The girl's blouse and skirt were probably pretty once upon a time but now they were worn and faded. Something with warmer shades would match the girl's dark olive skin better. Yes, that was it, something soft and warm just like the golden fields of 9.
The girl walked up onto the stage primly, folding her hands in front of her, expression transformed into a calm one.
"You must be Alstroemeria!" the escort said with a smile so wide it hurt Aelia to see.
Annoyance flashed across the tribute's face. "Azzie, please," she said simply.
The escort's eyebrows rose. "Pardon?"
"This girl's freaking weird," Jupiter sighed. "I give her ten minutes."
"That's generous," Kora snapped, rolling her eyes.
The escort waved a gloved hand at the girl, trying to recover. "May I present your female tribute: Azzie Kane!"
Aelia chewed on her lip. The dress from 9 wouldn't get out of her head. She could still see it glittering in the corner of her mind, begging to be drawn, sketched in bright shades on her paper... She flipped the page of the girl from 6 and smoothed her fingers over the fresh template.
"And now our male tribute!"
She was barely able to concentrate on "Royal Kariki!" being called up on the stage as her pencil started sketching the lines for the gown. Her mind dissolved into visions of silk and the rough tickle of lace on her palms as the Treaty of Treason was read off. It was rare that she actually sat down to make one of her sketches a reality, seeing as how busy she was at the Academy for final year, but this one seemed special. A thrill danced through her at the thought of the dress draped delicately over a wire mannequin.
"And our boy is Nico Araceli!"
Aelia blinked, looking up at the television. For a moment, she couldn't recognize the district, but a banner with a cow head surrounded by butcher knives caught her eye. District 10, possibly the least glamorous district. They were definitely one of the hardest to dress in Aelia's opinion. District 4 had flowing gowns of pearls and rippling, iridescent blue fabric to look like the ocean. District 11 had fluttering green tunics and shimmering headdresses of berries. Even Aelia couldn't exactly think of many ways to dress up livestock, and there were only so many iterations of a cowboy or cowgirl. There was, of course, that horrible year where the stylist had tried to put the words sexy and chicken in the same sentence. It lived in infamy in Aelia's mind.
Jupiter pointed at the screen. "Ten is always real hit or miss. They're either ridiculously strong or look like walking death."
"He seems... dead inside," Kora murmured.
The brunette boy walking out of the sixteen-year-old section was completely emotionless. As he climbed the stage he just stared out at the crowd, unreadable. The only time his attention shifted was when the escort moved to call the girl's name.
"Shelby Monta!"
A stricken olive-skinned girl moved among the fourteen-year-olds, brown eyes wide. It almost seemed like she was in a trance as she walked, feet moving stiffly in worn leather shoes, willowy arms hanging limply at her sides. For a moment, Aelia thought the girl might faint. It happened now and then where a tribute would collapse and had to be carried off, but it was always regarded as being terribly embarrassing for them. Still, Shelby Monta kept going until she was a single step from the stage.
"I volunteer!"
The escort - and Shelby Monta - turned to the crowd with slacked jaws.
Aelia's eyebrows rose. A volunteer from 10 was rare, but sure enough, the blonde girl who had been standing next to Shelby Monta earlier now had her hand in the air. As the cameras zoomed in on her face, terror flashed through the girl's eyes, blood darkening her pale cheeks like an oversaturated blush.
"Well, um, I think the proper protocol is that we usually ask for volunteers first..." the escort muttered into the microphone. She whispered something to one of the officials behind herself before forcing a smile. "Uh, well, come on up, honey!"
The blonde girl hurried from the crowd of children, her ponytail bobbing. She looked like a ray of sunshine in the ocean of faded clothing. Well, her skirt was clearly an old khaki, but her blouse was a lovely bright yellow. She quickly climbed the rickety steps to the stage, grabbing Shelby Monta in a hug. The chosen girl's dark hair fell across her face like a curtain, shielding the girls from the camera. And then the blonde girl was walking up the last step.
"And what's your name?" the escort asked, lowering the microphone to the girl.
The volunteer gulped so loud Aelia could hear it. "I'm Caroline Lile," she murmured.
"And was that a cousin of yours?"
"A friend."
"Wasn't that a sweet surprise!" the escort beamed and straightened her lemon-yellow pantsuit, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Let's give a round of - oh, actually I think it's time for the reading of the Treaty of Treason!" She gave a nervous look to the official bringing up the paper before taking a deep breath and beginning the long speech.
"Well that's unlucky," Ariadne said sadly as the escort droned on.
Mars nodded once. "But brave."
"Bravery doesn't mean survival," Jupiter said.
"But it counts for something," Aelia finally piped up. Shelby Monta was safe because of this Caroline Lile.
"Love isn't just words," Aelia's mother had once told her, tucking her in at night, "that's just too easy. Love is what you do too."
Aelia's grandfather used to say that the reason the district kids didn't volunteer for their siblings or friends all the time was because they were just that: district.
"They have no sense of selflessness," he'd muttered, regaling them with another tale of his life during the Dark Days when the rebels had bombed the Capitol. "They don't know how to love each other like we do."
"They don't love each other, Grandfather Price?" Aelia had asked him, pulling her stuffed rabbit closer.
He looked her in the eye, the same green color as hers and her mother's. "They do, darling, but it stops when their own life is threatened."
Aelia pulled her mind back to the present as the camera flew over the gray mountains of District 2. Gray stormclouds had formed over the district, but the rain seemed to be holding off for the reapings as they began.
Nobody ever paid attention to the tributes who were reaped in District 2. Or 1 or 4. Having the bowl of names had become somewhat of standard protocol in the Career districts, done just for show and tradition. Aelia could somewhat remember when she was a little girl and District 4 still had a few reaped tributes go into the Games, but things had changed now. District 2 was no different.
"I volunteer!"
Aelia watched the television expectantly, waiting for whichever girl had spoken to appear. The voice was a bit high-pitched and girlish, something so young-sounding that she couldn't help but wonder if it was a ruse that the tribute would play up. But, surely, having a harmless angle was difficult for a volunteer?
A second later, a girl stepped out of the section of thirteen-year-olds.
What?
All the teenagers in the room exchange confused looks, too stunned to speak. Even Jupiter and Saturn were rendered silent.
The crowd in District 2 were stilled in shock, clearly just as taken aback. Whoever this kid was, she certainly wasn't expected to volunteer like so many of their tributes were. A murmur began to ripple through them as the girl hurried to the stage and pinched the fabric of her white dress as she climbed the stage. She flashed a smile as she finally arrived at the microphone.
"Hi," she chirped, lifting her chin up.
The escort looked down at her as if she were an insect that had crawled up beside the microphone. "Hello," he said, glancing at the nearest camera and forcing a smile to her. "And what's your name?"
"Princess Daylight," she answered proudly.
"This is unusual," Kora finally said slowly.
Mars tucked a fist under his chin, squinting at the screen thoughtfully. "There was that twelve-year-old that volunteered, like, a decade ago."
Aelia regarded the clouded faces of the district citizens. Sometimes tributes volunteered young because they got arrogant and thought they had a fair shot. Some did. Most didn't. But something told her this girl wasn't running towards the Games, but was running from something instead. But whatever it was remained a mystery as the reapings continued.
The boy who volunteered seemed like the much more orthodox option, a true volunteer. Garrick Raymond was dressed like he wanted people to notice that he was prepared as a physical threat - his dress pants suggested wealth with their ironed fabric and his shirt was a soft-looking synthetic that clung to his arms, showing off strength.
Jupiter sighed as if everything was right with the world. "Finally. A real contender."
The others started talking about the boy from 1 last year who had been promising and ended up falling on his own spear while chasing the girl from 3.
Mars motioned for them to be quiet as the mountains of District 1 appeared. The cleanest district by far, District 1 also had a gleaming, white marble Justice Building like some of the older buildings in the Capitol looked. Boxes of pink flowers fluttered from beneath the scarlet Panem banners hung from the Justice Building's face. Even the two podiums holding the reaping bowls were encrusted with gemstones.
Aelia half-paid attention to the chosen boy as tribute. He didn't even bother to step out of his roped-off section because a volunteer raised his hand and walked to the stage with all the confidence they'd expect of a trained tribute.
"And what might your name be, young man?"
"Finnegan Armani," he replied.
Aelia glanced over at her friends. From the grin on Ariadne's lips and the way Kora lifted an eyebrow, she knew exactly what they were thinking. Of course they were. They made the tributes in District 1 different, Aelia could swear it. For district kids, they weren't half bad at all. While they couldn't quite beat out the ones in the Capitol, this boy was close.
Finnegan Armani looked like something straight out a storybook with a tall, broad-shouldered frame and a chiseled jaw. His outfit was simple but chic, just like how Aelia imagined District 1 was. The boy's cherry-red shirt had a few buttons undone - not too many to look provocative, but just enough to show he was confident.
Aelia's fingers itched to draw him. She could already picture it on the pages of her sketchbook, right down to the shine of his dark shoes and the glimmer of the silver watch on his wrist.
"Oh, I hope he wins," Kora muttered.
Ariadne giggled. "He's even better looking than the one last year." She brushed a hand through her dark tresses. "Think he likes brunette?"
Aelia bit back the words on the tip of her tongue, swallowing down the thought that she quite liked brunettes, but no matter. She twirled her pencil between her fingers.
The blonde girl who volunteered was equally glamorous with a fluttering violet dress and matching heels. She pranced up the steps to several whistles amidst the applause, waving a hand with a glittering bracelet.
"Amethyst Amberdust is such a pretty name," Ariadne sighed dreamily. "I wish it was mine."
"You have a beautiful name, Ari," Aelia said.
Ariadne tossed a grateful smile that made Aelia grin back instantly.
"Think she'll have an advantage since she's the mayor's daughter?" Mars asked the room. On the screen, Mayor Amberdust beamed at her daughter from the row of District 1 victors and officials.
Aristophanes shrugged. "It hasn't really been an advantage for the few victor's kids that've gotten reaped." He took his glasses off, polishing them while the reading of the Treaty of Treason began. "If I had to guess, it'll just make her a target for the rest of the volunteers. I mean, that's what I would think if I were the others."
"Ooh!" Kora spun on her chair, brown eyes lit with excitement. "Think it'll turn into a big fight? Maybe they'll take different sides? That would be awesome! And, like, what if the boy from One is in love with her and they have to run from the others to stay alive?"
"That would be so romantic," Ariadne said, clasping her hands under her chin.
They launched into a new movie trailer about star-crossed lovers that Aelia didn't care to see. She always went with her friends whenever a new movie or play came out, but she was much more of an art museum or fashion show kind of person herself. They indulged her and went along to the Capitol Showcase each year where the best of the best stylists put on their displays, and Aelia went to their movies - the best of both worlds.
The familiar dams and sea of turning windmills appeared on the television. District 5 was one of the more gray, industrial places, but it was surrounded by the most beautiful flowing mountains like those surrounding the Capitol.
As the reaping progressed, a young twelve-year-old boy was chosen.
Kora pouted. "Poor kid."
"Early out," Saturn said simply, turning to his drink and ignoring the boy.
Aelia watched, saddened, as the little black-haired boy walked to the stage, shaking. Each year as she got older, Aelia couldn't help but feel like twelve was just too young for a tribute. Considering no one that young had won before, it always seemed a bit too unfair. The boy had basically just been handed a guarantee of his own death.
Her stomach twisted. She swallowed, shoving aside the unpleasant feelings, focusing on her sketch instead.
"I volunteer!"
Aelia's pencil stopped on the page. She watched as a tall, lanky blonde boy dressed in a shirt (of nice fabric, but with too-short sleeves,) stepped out of the boy's section. He strode confidently ahead, not a flicker of fear or a falling tear in sight.
"He planned this," Aelia said aloud.
Kora and Ariadne exchanged looks of surprise.
The boy - Magen Tinker - gazed at the volunteer, eyes wide and mouth open, as if the volunteer had grown a second head. Magen Tinker had probably thought his life was over at that instant, that the Games would be the last thing he ever saw. It was as if Aelia could see the realization on his face that he'd been given a second chance. Seemingly in awe, Magen Tinker stood stock-still as the older boy climbed the steps, saying something to the child the cameras couldn't pick up. And then the volunteer was at the stage.
He introduced himself as Power Littlesmith.
"I'm guessing that wasn't your brother, then," the escort said, lifting an eyebrow high.
"No," Power Littlesmith said simply. He shook his head. "I don't know him."
The others around Aelia finally seemed to find their voices again from the surprise. The room became full of a litany of conversation, all talking out loud and not seeming to care if anyone was bothering to really listen.
" - and that's six volunteers in a row!"
"Has to be some sort of record?"
"It's like someone's put something in the water out in the districts-"
"Think he's trained?"
"- it wasn't for the tiny kid, that's for sure. Bet he'll play up that hero angle, though."
Aelia tapped her pencil on her sketchpad, turning to Kora and Ariadne who had started talking at warp-speed about how all these bombshells would affect the rest of the reapings. They only had District 7 and 4 to go, but District 4 always promised a couple of volunteers nowadays. It was one of Aelia's personal favorite districts, and she was usually a bit partial to the tributes (call her biased, but they always had wonderful chariot costumes.)
"Lia," Kora said breathlessly, turning to her. "Think your aunt will have something to say about it?"
Aelia glanced down at her hands. Her writing hand had gotten dusted in graphite, a gray shine highlighting the prints of her thumb. "I think Great-Aunt Minerva always has something to say."
If Kora caught the bitterness in her tone, she didn't say a word. She launched into an explanation of how exciting it would be if one of the richer districts like 5 began training their tributes like 1, 2 and 4.
Aelia half-listened, her thoughts drifting towards her great-aunt who was probably rushing around the Game Center right then. Or, no, not rushing. Minerva Bellum didn't ever rush. She was always in control of everything. It was something Aelia had always admired and had always wanted to emulate even if she could never quite do it like Great-Aunt Minerva. Each weekend she stayed with the woman growing up just reminded her of it.
Lately, though, Great-Aunt Minerva didn't seem to have much time for her.
When Aelia looked back up, she found Ariadne watching her. Her face warmed with a blush.
"We missed the girl!" Aristophanes called out, flapping his hands to shush Jupiter.
On screen, Aelia watched as the doors to the Justice Building shut. The Panem crest appeared on screen as the live feed adjusted.
Saturn sighed, shrugging. "She's probably not important anyway. District Five has only won three measly Games. For as brilliant as everyone thinks those kids are, they're just nothing next to the tributes from Two or even some of the strong ones from Eleven."
Mars nodded at the screen as a camera shot panned over expansive forests of tall evergreen trees. "Seven's not a bad bet, though."
"They do come out swinging," Jupiter said, miming hefting an ax on his shoulder and laughing at his own joke.
The screen cut to the Justice Building as the mayor began the typical proceedings. Aelia bit back a yawn. Even she found herself a bit bored at this point. After ten districts, things began to get repetitive, even if the volunteer from 5 had spiced things up. She couldn't help but wish the escort would speak a bit faster and choose the kids already. The sooner the names were drawn, the sooner she could get to sketching without a distraction.
After what seemed like twice as long as usual, the escort finally glided in her sparkling gown to the bowl holding the girl's names. She - mercifully - wasted no time in plucking a slip and opening it with a flourish.
"Evlin Grove!"
A stricken ginger-haired girl emerged from the fourteen-year-old section, gripping her faded red dress so tightly that her knuckles turned yellow-white. She swiveled her head, peering back at someone in the crowd encircling the roped-off sections of children. Her jaw clenched. When she turned to the stage, she walked faster.
The escort didn't waste any time. As soon as Evlin had come to a stop next to the microphone, the woman was already hurrying the other glass ball.
"And our next tribute for this year's honor will be..." She dipped both gloved hands into the bowl and made a show of picking between two slips. She picked the one in her left hand and walked slowly back to the microphone, building up the suspense. "Let's see who our male tribute is! And it's... Coy... Coy-min Austin?"
Saturn shook his head. "District Seven kids have the weirdest names sometimes."
"Remember that one named Maple Leaf a few years ago?" Jupiter added.
Even Aelia couldn't smother her smile.
The camera ended up zeroing in on a boy in the sixteen-year-old section, his jaw gaping, standing there in stunned silence. A boy next to him with a pained expression prodded the Austin guy in the back. The shock didn't wear off as the boy jammed his hands in the pockets of his brown trousers. He walked out into the aisle, ignoring - or maybe not even noticing - all the other children watching him. It wasn't until he'd marched up the stage steps and came to a stop across from Evlin Grove that he blinked away the shock.
Aelia bit her lip. Her stomach sank in sympathy as he tried to put on a brave face with little success. As the reading of the Treaty of Treason began, a bead of sweat fell from his brown curls, dripping down the side of face and falling onto his green button-up shirt.
"Are his legs shaking?" Jupiter snapped. He shook his head. "Seven has the most cowardly bunch this year."
"He's just surprised," Ariadne said, "you don't know what's going through his head."
The tributes were led offstage and the Panem seal flashed.
"I'm getting tired," Jupiter groaned. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head as he paced. "I'm ready for dinner."
"Mmm, saltwater taffy," Kora hummed, her lips tilting up in delight as the oceans of District 4 appeared.
The shot of the sun glimmering off the turquoise water dissolved into the Justice Building, seagulls circling overhead. The sun beat down on the citizens gathered, glinting off the reaping bowls, and the children in the audience squinted as the mayor began her speech. Thankfully, she spoke quickly, and the choosing of the tributes started. Just like 1 and 2, the names chosen were pretty negligible. The only names people cared about were those of the volunteers.
The eighteen-year-old boy who volunteered looked like the other guys from his district: sun-bleached blonde hair, tanned skin, and a frame that suggested he was a regular swimmer. Aelia wasn't all that impressed with Marlen Beckett's clothing to the point where she forgot what he was wearing practically the second the camera switched and the escort started walking towards the glass orb for the girls.
Aelia glanced down at her sketchbook. Maybe she could go to the Academy tomorrow and ask for access to the art room. Professor Denarius was usually nice enough to let her use it even when classes weren't in session. She could use some samples of the lace and, with a little glue, add a bit of gold glitter. She could have a mock-up of the dress done by the weekend.
"And our female tribute is... Thalassa Morgan."
Perhaps... should she change the blue fabric to a turquoise shade?
"I volunteer!"
"NO!"
Aelia's head snapped up to the television where the frame was confusedly panning to two girls rushing towards the stage steps. The girl with flowing brown curls reached the steps first, not bothering to turn around to face the red-headed girl whose face was twisted in fury.
"NO, it's mine!" the redhead screamed. She reached out, grabbing a fistful of the other girl's hair.
And then the Peacekeepers were there, pulling them apart and detangling the redhead's hand from the other girl's hair. The redhead shoved at the Peacekeepers, angry tears pooling in her eyes as they led her out of the square. Two more Peacekeepers remained, emotionless with their white helmets on, guiding the first volunteer up the stage steps.
"Something tells me that wasn't supposed to happen," Aelia whispered to her friends.
They nodded in quiet agreement, dumbfounded.
Marlen Beckett looked just as confused as his new district partner stopped on the stage, rubbing her head where the other girl had ripped at her curls.
"And your name is?" the escort asked. From the grin on his face, he was entirely amused with the whole affair. The reapings would go out with a bang because of this and the escort was going to be part of all the action. Caesar Flickerman would even feature an interview with him before the Games, no doubt.
The girl spoke loudly, ignoring Marlen Beckett's curious glances. "I'm Marina. Marina Fischer."
Aelia gave the girl's outfit a once-over: a pretty-yet-simple dress of lilac and pink cut at a tea-length hem. It didn't exactly match the girl's olive skin, but it wasn't a bad choice either. If anything, it was much less eye-catching than the sequined dress the redheaded girl wore. Whoever this new volunteer was, she wasn't trying to stand out.
Then again, Aelia figured, being a volunteer was standing out enough.
The mayor returned and took her time reading the Treaty of Treason, probably knowing that this was the last reaping of the day. Once she finished, Marlen Beckett and Marina Fisher shook hands, sharing a light smile.
"Your District Four tributes for the Forty-second Hunger Games!"
The District 4 crowd cheered as the Panem anthem blared and the two tributes waved.
"And so finishes our reaping ceremonies." Caesar Flickerman's face appeared on the screen, makeup and hair done up in a shimmering white. "Our tributes will be making their way to the trains to arrive tomorrow morning here in the Capitol, bright and early. Tomorrow night will mark their debut in the parade."
Aelia's heart thrummed with excitement. The parade. The best part of the Games.
"Stay tuned for more footage of their progress to the district stations," Caesar continued as he flashed a smile, "or enjoy your evening on this first day leading up to the Forty-second Hunger Games."
Juniper bounded to his feet. "Time for dessert!"
Hello!
It's been a while since I last updated back in January. I can't believe it's about to be July. I'm sorry for the long hiatus between my updates. I've been doing - to be honest - very poorly mentally but I'm working on trying to get back on track. Also, I graduated college! So that's exciting. I hope that you are all doing well! My updates should come more frequently now. I have not given up on this story or these tributes!
The next chapter will be posted soon (hopefully tonight) and will begin the train series. There will be 3 chapters that take place on the trains before our tributes arrive in the Capitol so I'll be introducing 9 more tributes within those.
If you are still interested in reading, I would be so grateful. Feel free to leave me a review about what you thought of this chapter.
Aelia Creed is a character who will play an important role in this story, so I'd appreciate your thoughts on her. Also on any of the tributes! I wanted to have this chapter to show the reapings from a Capitol perspective. If a tribute wasn't featured, don't worry, they're still important. I just wanted to portray this how I thought Aelia would pay attention.
This chapter is a monster over 9,000 words and it has been torturing me so I'm truly really glad to be done with it.
See you all in the next chapter!
~ Meghan