ιn тнe мι∂sт .::. σne-σn-σne

[katniss,]

[ мαяceℓℓe αngeℓ αмвeяsσn ]

››› Yesterday had been the day that changed everything. Yesterday, the day of Reaping in which my little sister, Tiff, and I had been chosen to compete the 100th Annual Hunger Games. Oh the joy! Apparently, according to the horribly shrill-voiced, pink-haired Tydra Florence, being chosen to compete in the games was a high honor- a chance to win glory, riches, and rewards for your district. "A reason to be proud of your disadvantaged district!" Bah. How could you be proud of winning a reality TV show where you brutally slaughter your opponents? The idea of the Hunger Games was brutal, disgusting, and demeaning. Children had to kill children for the pleasures of a power-asserting Capitol.

Around 25 years ago, the Second Rebellion against the Capitol had failed. Miserably. They had gone down with a fight, but when the rebells raided the Capitol in their final attempt to throw the President out of office and take control, Katniss Everdeen- named the "Mockingjay" of the rebellion- had been captured, along with her lover-boy Peeta Mellark. They were publically executed, and when the rebel forces withdrew and tried to escape, the Capitol stomped the remaining forces into the ground. A few days later, news broke that the Capitol had finally destroyed District 13. The rebellion attempt was finished, and the angry government tightened their iron grip on the districts they maintained rule over. Whatever districts were sided with the rebels were punished brutally, and the Hunger Games remained an annual "celebration".

Glancing around the room, anger filled inside me. How come my family back in District 12 had to starve and barely scrape by when the Capitol pampered themselves with excess food? Here I was, being fussed over with a large, penthouse room with strange vanities. A shower with a plethora of buttons, settings, shampoos, scents, temperatures, and spout patterns. A king-size bed with fresh sheets every time she walked into the room. A private set of Avox servants who's wish was my command. An endless supply of food that was served at any time of the day. A glass wall which also served as a screen to display a setting of your choice. As of now, the screen was showing a rich, vibrant, and chirping forest that reminded me of the forest near my home. However, no comforting feeling echoed from the forest. I only felt more hollow. I would probably never return back to the forest. My forest. My home.

Suddenly, a distant voice broke into my thoughts. Soft-spoken, echoing, reserved, familiar. The source of the voice was right outside of my designated room door. "Marcy! Marcy, you have to come eat breakfast so we can get to the training center as soon as possible!" the voice cooed, and I realized it was my sister, Tiff. Following her words, I grunted a reply before pulling myself out of bed and dragging my unwilling feet into the shower. I pushed random buttons, not paying attention as I jabbed settings on and off before scrubbing the remaining coal dust that was glued to my skin from last night's parade. My costume had been spectacular. Tiff and myself were identical in appearance, and matching with Jasmine Gales- a tribute from the same district, who was siblings with Richard Gales, who had been chosen. My costume had been exquisite, when you looked past the flawed logic of diamonds for District 12- not that the dimwitted sponsers of the Capitol would notice, remember, or care about. My eyes were patterned witha smoky look- bold and beautiful- sweeping a dusty, smoky gray color on her eyelids, and then fading into a glitter on her temples. My hair was swept to the side in an elaborate, yet casual, braided-bun, and tied together with a messy bun. Despite the fact I would usually feel very exposed in a skimpy costume, my costume radiated strength. A slick, black leotard covered my lower upper-body, from my pelvis to my stomach. A lighter, soot-gray sache swept across my hips, adding a detail to the primary look. From my solar plexus and up the rest of the leotard, was a tight corset-appearing outfit that was tight, shiny leather. Silver diamond buttons were sequenced down the middle, but small and only added a slight detail. Pushing out of my shoulders were heavy and foreboding shoulder pads, crested each with a large diamond and took over my upper arm area as well as her shoulders. Underneath the pads were slick snakeskin embroidered leather that went to the elbows, before being cuffed into a sharp, modern design that was edged with diamonds coming off the cuffs. My legs were bare of any material, but coal-clumps were formed on random scatterings from my thighs down to my calfs, and made me appear dangerous yet adorable. Topped off with that, I wore dark black, unwavering in glitter, shoes that were not eyecatching, but added a nice touch to the rest of the outfit. I remembered every detail of my attire. I was beautiful.

Once I felt my body scoured and clean, I stepped out of the shower and made my way over to the closet, sifting through the clothes aimlessly before choosing a neat pair of training pants and a matching training jacket, which had "DISTRICT 12" stamped on the sleeves, back, front, and side. Shrugging, I decided making a fashion statement won't be the purpose today, so I choose a pair of leather combat boots to match. As I opened my door and entered the main room, weaving my way down the hallway before entering the dining room, I spotted my sister in an identical outfit, nibbling on cheesy bread and lamb stew. The first day of training was ahead of them, so they had to eat their full but not too much as to make them queasy. I sat down beside her, smiling in greeting before taking a huge gulp of orange juice and beginning to dig in.

"So now that we have no other choice, are you excited to get training?" I asked, a smile playing on my lips as I brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Tiff smiled, shrugging sadly as she continued to eat, avoiding my eye contact. She knew what was going to happen in the future. One of us would be killed in the arena. I had already made my mission to keep Tiff alive. I would keep her alive until it was just as two, and then kill myself if needed to let her escape and rejoin society. I would not let anyone get in the way of my mission. Not the Capitol, not another tribute, not a lack of sponsers.

When we ate our full, Tydra gestured for us to follow her into the elevator. My eyes were glued on her outfit today- a gorgeous, ruffled layer dress, and her hot-pink up-do. She hobbled in front of us as we met up with Jasmine and Rich, the other District 12 tributes, and pushed us into the elevator along with our mentors, Isis and Kaspin. Not a word was spoken as our group descended through the building to the training center. As the four tributes stepped out, Tydra bid us farwell before closing the elevator doors and leaving us to figure out where to go alone. I ignored Jasmine and Rich, and motioned for Tiff to follow me into the Training Center, or what I assumed was the Training Center since other tributes were filing in as well.

As soon as Tiff and I entered the gigantic Training Center, I knew we were the last ones to arrive. All the other tributes were listening to a burly man instruct the group of tributes on the basics of how to maneuver through the different stations. My cheeks turned pink as I sat down with my sister on the outskirts of the group, feeling awkward. The room was full of tributes, and a few caught my eye. A handsome one that seemed my age, maybe a little older, from District 2, according to his uniform. He seemed muscular and strong, and was sitting near another male who seemed my age as well- probably his brother. I quickly scanned the area, noticing a few young twelve year-old tributes similiar to my sister, Tiff, in size and strength. But there were also plenty of older kids too. Marcy's age, and some even older.

As the instructor motioned for us to be on our way, I stood up and smiled at Tiff. "Let's go shoot some arrows," I smiled gently, turning my focus on her before feeling myself knock into someone. Whirling around, I noticed the male from District 2 (Alonso) I had spotted earlier. "Oh, um, sorry about that," Marcy spoke, nice enough in her apology.

[Cazio]

Ryan, Gavin and Alonso and Stacey had been torn apart by their stylists and shoved back together again in time for the chariot ride. As with most tribute groups, the females stood out, and Stacey was no exception. She looked as though she were being consumed by stone, just as the boys did. Her dress appeared to be carved from granite, it was stiff and unbending and the same texture as stone.Demon-eque wings graced her backside, and they too appeared to be made of rock. Alonso, Gavin and Ryan wore the same outfit, a stone-looking tribal skirt. The outfit was not nearly as interesting as the makeup. they appeared to be statues, sculptures of men that magically moved. Stone pieces were making their way up the boys' necks and even crept around their faces. Their ears were tipped, and each vertebrae of their spine was raised into spikes to resemble a gargoyle, a silent stone sentinel that watched over buildings in times long since passed. Their only accessory was a giant metal chain that wrapped around each of their their necks, one that had been painted to look as if it was also made of stone. A bold move by their stylist, one that was well received.

Things began to sour after the parade. Ryan and Stacey distanced themselves from the Montero brothers, and Alonso didn't really blame him. there was little time left to spend with family, and using any of that time to fake friendship was time wasted. Alonso had to keep himself in a good mood, or something close to it. Gavin fed off of Alonso's energy and if Alonso was worried...Gavin was getting sick from it. There were a few time sin the past 24 hours where Alonso wanted to lock himself in a room and break down, but he forced himself to hold it together for his little brother.

"Alonso, Gavin! In here, now!" Kyler's shrill voice echoed around the lounge where Gavin was reading a book in herbology and Alonso was watching the Capitol out the window.

"We are in here." Alonso muttered, not taking his gaze form the bustling people below.

"I've had enough of your mouth, Alonso. There is serious work to be done today!"

"Yeah, Alonso, there's serious work to be done today!" Gavin chimed in, mocking the Capitol accent and Kyler's nasal tone.

The brothers laughed as Kyler fumed at the doorway. Alono waved a hand and decided it would be better to follow directions than to start problems with their Capitol ambassador. He didn't understand why they even needed one in the first place, it wasn't like the tributes were here to learn anything about the city that wanted them dead. Kyler seemed to take his job pretty seriously though, and he didn't appreciate the boys' jokes.

"Now that we've had our laugh, lets get moving. First training session this morning."

Alonso tensed, and Gavin reacted immediately, clutching his book for dear life. Alonso hadn't expected training to start so soon, it always felt so much further along in the process when he watched it on TV. That was probably because he was only forced to watch the training results, which wouldn't be until later. He knew he would be great at training, he'd been practicing since he was 13 and gotten high marks. Gavin had been training since he was 13 too, but could never quite get a sword or an axe to work the way he wanted. Gavin had the brains to get a good score, but he would really have to work for anything over an 8.

"Okay, Gav, let's go."

---


Seeing the other tributes in normal clothing made everything a bit more real. Alonso could feel his pulse quicken, but he kept a straight face. Compared the the majority of the other tributes, they were superbly prepared. They were careers, the people that were basically guaranteed to win. It was seldom that a non-career district produced a winner, but hey, not every career was good enough to deserve the name. He could feel eyes on him as he entered the training area and cracked a cocky smile. He was going to destroy these weaklings. Gavin could certainly do better then a bunch of 12 year olds, and Gavin seemed to realize this at the same time and visibly relaxed.

The instructor explained the rules of the training room and equipment, a speech Alonso had heard countless times. Don't kill anyone, don't sabotage other tributes or you will be punished blah blah blah. A pair of tributes walked in late, and the instructor paused to give them a disapproving look. They looked to be sisters, one around his age and the other much younger. He almost felt bad that she would be stuck trying to keep such a small child alive, until he remembered that she could be the one who kills his brother. His competitive fire flared up again and Alonso's demeanor went all business. he would make sure that he and Gavin were the final two, and he would find away that they could both live. he wouldn't pull a Peeta and Katniss move persay, but how long could they live in the wilderness before the Capitol gave up? Alonso would not kill his brother and Gavin would not kill Alonso. The Gamemakers might try and send something their way, but the Montero brothers would work together to stop it. If one of them died protecting the other, so be it, but they would not kill each other.

He was jarred from his thoughts with a whack on his shoulder, causing him to stumble forward a bit.

"Oh, um, sorry about that,"

He turned to see the eldest sibling of the pair of tributes that had shown up late, her younger sister close behind. He cocked his head, a little smirk playing on his lips.

"We'll see who's sorry when we get to the Cornucopia," Alonso returned, his eyes glinting. He spied the "DISTRICT 12" lettering on her training outfit, emitting a snort. "District 12 huh? You think you're going to be the next Katniss Everdeen?" He stepped a closer, popping her bubble of personal space. "Well guess what, everyone else does. And the Gamemakers are gonna make you suffer for it." He flicked a glance at her little sister. He wasn't usually this cruel to someone who just happened to knock into him, but he had a feeling that anything short of hostility towards District 12 could get him more than a few trips of "bad luck" during the Games. District 12 needed to be avoided like the plague.

[katniss,]

{.{ I was terribly busy today. I will reply to this within the next few days. I promise, this is too promising of a rp to let die! }.}

[katniss,]

Should we timeskip somewhere? Or just play this some more? I think maybe... timeskip to the Cornucopia battle now?
And, writers block. Sorry!

[ мαяceℓℓe αngeℓ αмвeяsσn ]

››› A smile spread automatically across my face, before realizing exactly what this district two tribute said. Well, how rude. Quickly, my grin contorted with inner rage, and my eyes narrowed to slits. I was about to retort something about how Katniss Everdeen was a better person than every single one of the people in this room- she fought for her friends, family, and loved ones- before I rethought that idea. It would be suicide to praise a rebell from the Second Rebellion, especially since I already was from District 12 and had the set back of being of Katniss Everdeen's ancestory. Praising such treason would only result in my immediate death in the arena. So I quickly shut my mouth, stepping in front of Tiff protectively before twisting my frown into a poisonious grin. "Oh, well don't mind me, sir. I hope I didn't make a dent in your honor," I simply jeered with a sour attitude, a sense of distaste making my mouth bitter with hatred. Already I knew this male was going to be one of the first to die, or be the first on my hitlist.

I leaned into close, but my eyes only lined up to his nose, so I flickered my gaze up ruefully. An angry flare of spite coarsed through my veins, and I withheld the urge to throttle this male. He was taller and stronger than me, and a Career. But I will get him, just you see. I will sneak up on him, and his brother, and shoot them down a poison arrow in the dead of night. He wouldn't dare insult me and call me a traitor the Capitol- I wasn't that stupid. To betray the Capitol was immediate death. If you pulled something even remotely close to a Katniss move, you were swiftly assassinated without second thoughts. No government wanted another "Girl on Fire" or "Mockingjay". Quickly, as my face was inches from his, I let my gaze sparkle innocently before I turned on my heels, and paraded away as the group disbandoned. I would not get caught in a silly fight before the battle even began.

Yet as I had turned away from this tribute, a strong, enticing scent had overcome me. Something sweet yet masculine, and lingering with a seductive smell. What on Earth was he wearing? Did he bathe in cologne? I quickly recovered my senses and turned to Tiff once more, who seemed slightly frazzled and confused. She opened her mouth to speak, but I quickly shook my head in disapproval, communicating through my eyes for her to be silent. She agreed, before grabbing my hand and dragging me in the direction of the empty archery station.

For an hour or so, I repeatedly shot arrow after arrow, hitting each one perfectly, minus a few stray arrows which landed inches away from my target. I quickly grew bored, but didn't let it show. After I had gotten my fair share of practice, I turned to Tiff, who was struggling to hold her bow correctly. I eased my way over to her side, straightening her elbow and aligning her bow before telling her to pull back on the string slowly and release. After a few good tries, she finally hit the bullseye on the human dummy up and ahead, and squeeled in delight. I grinned, chuckling a good natured compliment to her, before letting her practice a few more times. Once we had gotten archery training done, we headed over to the over stations. In time, we completed a station on sword dueling, which I was moderately okay in and Tiff was terrible in. Then we completed a station on herbs, plants, and poisons, which I was confused about and Tiff excelled in. After that, we spent a little while at the obstacle course. I quickly managed to make my way through the course, falling once or twice but getting back up quickly. Tiff went next, but had to keep pulling herself up from falling.

A pinch of fear crept through my heart and soul as I watched Tiff struggle. She was only going to make surviving the arena harder. For a split second, the urge to ditch Tiff the moment we enter the arena entered my mind, but I quickly shot the idea down. That was just my crazy, hunting instincts kicking in. I need to think straight, and remember that Tiff would get out of the Games and live. If I had to die, then so be it. I would not kill Tiff, and would not let anyone else kill Tiff, for that matter. As I weaved through the stations with my sister in tow, I cast glances at the males from District Two. They were... scary. They might prove a real problem, too. Alonso and Gavin were their names, or least that's what I picked up from conversations I could hear across the room. They were strong, muscular, and surely going to make it pretty far.

Plus they were Careers, pets of the Capitol. And who was I? I was a petty Seam girl who could use a bow and arrow. Strikingly similiar to Katniss Everdeen.

And this? Might work against my favor. The odds were not in my favor. At all.

[Cazio]

ooc// sounds good, cornucopia it is!

To Alonso’s surprise, the District 12 girl didn’t cower at his words. Instead she took a definitive step forward, shielding her sister and getting in his face. Her eyes were fiery, her pupils little pricks of black in her eyes. She looked like she was considering slapping him, which brought a smile to his face. That would be a quick way to get kicked out on the first day of training.

After snapping sarcastically at him, she took another step closer, so close he could feel her breath on his neck. He looked her dead in the eye, and it felt like he was watching every thought that crossed her mind. Right now, she was beyond angry at him, fuming even, but she still managed to look cute doing it. He chuckled, daring her to do something. He was about to push her away for fear that the officials might get the wrong idea when he saw her pupils dilate for a split second. Before he could call her out on it she turned away, but her demeanor had changed. Something about him had caught her off guard, he didn’t know what exactly, but something had. She grabbed her sisters hand and stormed away, leaving Alonso and Gavin standing there at the front of the arena. Alonso’s eyes narrowed, knowing he had just made an enemy, something he wasn’t suppose d to do until he was in the Games. Yet, as he started practicing his sword skills with his younger brother, he realized that something was still lingering from their confrontation. The thing that scared him was that it wasn’t pure hatred.
----------------

The culmination of countless weeks of preparation, a strict meal plan, secret meeting and hundreds of hours of studying lead to this moment. He stared blankly at the glass cylinder in front of him, not knowing where they would come up. Rumors had been flying about a swamp, a savanna, even a volcano had been mentioned once or twice, but no one really knew what the arena would be like. It was the Quarter Quell, they could start underwater for all he knew.

Everything seemed to polished, the elevator was gleaming with fresh shine, the floors waxed and every chrome surface sent a warped reflection back at him. He was a boy from district 2, practically created for the soul purpose of adding another victory to his people. Gavin would probably be the actual victor, but his friends and parents knew that Alonso would be sacrificing himself for his brother if he had to. Gavin had struggled in training, but rediscovered his superb ability to build traps. He began making snares out of everything from shredded shirts to necklaces, something Kyler was none too pleased about. But Gavin had gotten a 6, which was plenty good for the two of them to get a sponsor. Sponsors would give something to a Career who got a 4, because other Careers have purposely gotten low marks to drive the other tributes into thinking that they weren’t a threat. No one was really dumb enough to believe them though.

“Whatever you do, you run towards the Cornucopia. The other Careers won’t kill you unless you go for them specifically, so run to me, don’t even look at anyone else." Alonso swallowed, fearing those could be the last words he ever said to his brother. A light flashed, signaling that it was time to enter the elevator. Twenty-five years ago tributes were allowed an escort to the elevators, but since Cinna had given Katniss her Mockingjay pin in a room just like this one; no one was allowed to enter with anyone else. Punishment of death; and no pins were allowed either.

The elevator hummed to life and began to lift him towards the surface. He could feel his mindset changing from stress to motivation, from civilized to survival mode. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like a refreshing blast of cold air, he could even smell the homey scent of the mountains as he looked into the pale blue sky. As the arena came into view, his heart sped up. He hadn’t been imagining the mountains at all, the massive pyramids of stone surrounded them on all sides. They looked to be in a valley, a section of meadow that stretched for about a square mile before starting to crowd with thick pines. District 2 was in luck, mountains were home. Alonso found himself smiling like an idiot, then immediately went serious as soon as he realized what he was doing. The circle around the cornucopia was massive thanks to double the tributes, and as he looked at the gleaming cornucopia it was painfully obvious that there weren’t even supplies for 24 tributes to battle for. He eyes a few backpacks scattered in the grass, then turned his gaze to the other Careers.

Other districts often though that Careers started out in a group because they thought they were stringer than everyone else. It was partially true, but the real reason was tradition. It was almost a ritual, starting the games as a team of individuals who had trained for this day. There was a truce between them, that as long as they defended one another in the first hour of the Games, the legend went that one of them would when. Most Careers chose to stay together even after that, but Alonso doubted that would be the case this year. They would grab their supplies, they had roughly planned who was getting what beforehand, and be on their way to victory. Alonso had claimed a sword, rope, and a medical kit. Gavin was supposed to be going for the biggest backpack he could find and anything he could use to help build traps. Alonso finally spotted his younger brother, but Gavin was staring intently at the cornucopia, waiting for the Games to begin. The seconds were ticking away, Alonso settled into a runner’s stance, ready to blast off towards the cornucopia and kill anyone who tried to stop him. Even that girl from district 12.Especially the girl from district 12.

[katniss,]

Alonso is going to let Marcy go, right? And then Marcy saves him later?
Sorry if I powerplayed a bit here, but I just needed to have this scene happen. c:

[ мαяceℓℓe αngeℓ αмвeяsσn ]

››› A cold shiver rippled down my spine, threatening to send me into a full forced sob-feast as I tried to keep tears from breaking through the cool complexion I was maintaining. I was terrified. My body was shaking. My head was spinning. My stomach was threatening to churn up my lunch. Yet my entire face remained calm and still, as if this whole Hunger Games would be eazy breezy. Quick and easy to get through, nothing new.

A stead-fast hand touched my shoulder comfortingly, helping bring my mind back to reality. I breathed out slowly, before turning around to make eye contact with my stylist. His name was Jacobi Trent, and a relatively new stylist compared to the long run-of-the-mill stylists who had been in the Hunger Games style teams for over twenty years. It was obvious he had been assigned to District 12 despite his request for another district, but Jacobi made the best of his set-backs. He was quite comforting, actually, and had grown close to Marcy over the two weeks the tributes had spent in the Capitol. He was sweet, soft-spoken, and clear-cut when he spoke, and his down to earth-relatively speaking, of course, since he was a Capitol citizen- nature was comforting as waves upon waves of cameras, "fans", and Capitol life splashed against Marcy over and over again. Life being a tribute sucked and the games hadn't even begun yet.

"I'm counting on you, dear. You can win this," Jacobi murmured in my ear, gently adjusting my tribute attire before taking a step back. At first, these words settled into my thoughts and provoked comfort and eased my worries. Quickly, however, they twisted into annoyance. I didn't want to live! I didn't want to win! "I am not going to win! Tiff is!" I hear my voice snap, sounding unnecessarily crude. I expect Jacobi to recoil or turn cold, but he keeps his gaze gentle and caressing. Merely mumbling something inaudible under his breath, he turns to help me put on my final piece of clothing- a dark brown leather jacket. This year's tribute outfits are dark and camoflauged, hinting towards a foresty arena. First, the pants are simple training pants, but with insulation built inside that both keep you cool when the weather is hot, and keep you warm when the weather would be chilly. Next, there is a thin undergarmet resembling a tunic, covered by a brown and green camoflauged leather jacket that is flexible yet durable. On my feet, I am wearing a strange pair of shoes. Rubbery in texture, they seem flimsy and unprotective when you hold them in your hands, but the moment you put them on you can just feel them mold to fit your feet. As I wiggle my toes inside and take a step to suss them out once more, they glide and attach themselves to the floor- using grips on the soles to provide stability. Their material structure seems durable as well, able to keep out stones, rocks, and sharp objects that I could possibly step on.

My hair is plaited in a simple braid behind my head until the braid reaches the nape of my neck, then is bunched into a neat yet easy bun, tied together with a ponytail holder and clipped in place with bobby pins. The style was easy to do myself, firm, and did not get in the way of my hands once I got my hands on a bow and arrow or any weapon matter of fact. Back in the Seam, when I used to go down into the coal mines as part of my job, I always did my hair in a practical way like this. When I was younger and less experienced, I had let my hair down when I was out in the forest and in the mines, but eventually learned how stupid it was- my flowing locks easily got tangled and wrapped up in my environment and only led to danger.

A series of three beeps sounded from an intercom built into the wall, before a crisp Capitol female spoke over the speaker. "60 seconds until tributes must be in the chute, the voice spoke, before cutting off with a sharp crackle. Sighing, I turned my gaze up to Jacobi. I didn't know what to do, what to say. So I merely hugged him in a childish way, and he bear-gripped me like my father used to do when I was very young. Tears welled boldly in my eyes, threatening to send me into an explosion of raw emotion. But I just couldn't. I couldn't be weak, because in 60 seconds I would be up in the arena above, the countdown beginning before I would be defending my sister Tiff for her and my life. I had to stay strong. I had to stay strong for Tiff.

Sadly, no token was allowed to be taken by the tributes into the Games thanks to the symbolism the Mockingjay token had been during the Second Rebellion. So I stood stiffly, before hobbling over to the chute. Jacobi watched me leave solemnly, waving goodbye to me sadly as the final few words were spoken. He was quickly escorted out, narrowed eyes darting back and forth between us. It had been 25 years, and still the Capitol did not trust any District 12 tributes. Go figure.

With a slow but surprising force, the plate beneath my feet rose up and a glass cylinder enclosed me. I waved farewell sadly to Jacobi, knowing I would never see him again. I would be dead. Maybe Tiff would see him on her Victory Tour and such. A few seconds passed before a light above me signaled I was entering the arena. The harsh sunlight blinded me, and I closed my eyes to avoid the burning sensation they were feeling. When I reopened my eyes, I was standing in a slightly arced circle that was at the base of a steep hill. Up ahead, the Cornucopia gleamed enchantingly, luring the gaze of the other tributes with a twinkling sense of lust. All the tributes wanted to get the good stuff out of the Cornucopia, but only the skilled tributes would even survive this battle up ahead.

60. 59. 58.

We had already worked out a strategy. Tiff would grab some basic things along the outskirts, that no sensible person would try to battle over. I watched Tiff, who was three people down from her, to the right. I was on the very edge, so was logistically closer to the Cornucopia, but also very vunerable. Finally Tiff sensed by gaze and locked her eyes on mine, before flicking her gaze to a small green pouch, a short knife, and a sleeping bag. I nodded slowly before, touching my wrist with three fingers. This was our silent sign that meant "Be safe, be smart". We both knew better than to do something stupid out here. Next I flicked my gaze up to the trees close to the base of the hill. When I turned back to look at my sister, she nodded quickly, understanding. She would scale the trees to safety once she grabbed a few things. I would go into the Cornucopia battle and get a weapon I was familiar with, a few skins of water, and kill anyone who got in my way. I just needed that bow...

30. 29. 28.

The time was ticking, I shifted my weight, but kept still on my spot. Other tributes were remaining motionless as well- knowing that a single step off their platform and they would be blown into smitherines. The Gamemakers were not easy on early starters. I let out a quivering breath, letting my gaze wander over to the other tributes. There were 48 of us this year. 48 children. 47 of which would die, and 1 which would life with the guilt of being a legal murderer. My gaze locked on the familiar District Two tribute- that kid who had snapped at me during training. He had gotten a pretty good score- I forgot the exact number, but it was a very high one compared to the other trainees. I clenched my fist out of hatred. I hated that District Two kid. He would die as soon as I could make happen.

3. 2. 1.

A long BOOM marked the end of the countdown. Before I could think, my legs burst out from under me, and I found myself sprinting towards the Cornucopia, oblivious to everyone else. The scene around me seemed to lull, and time slowed down. I could see everything. The tributes dashing for the Cornucopia all at once. Tiff lunging for the green pouch, grabbing it, and then snatching up a sleeping bag. Another tribute trying to reach for a loaf of bread, before being violently stabbed in the back by his sister with a short knife lying on the ground. I tried to focus, and managed to bring my attention back to my goal as I reached the inner sections of the Cornucopia. Blindly, I flailed through the contents, hoping that I wouldn't be cornered soon. I was the second one to reach the site, but the other tribute seemed equally occupied as they tried to find a weapon to their suiting. As my eyes spied a silver long bow, I felt my greed magnify. My grubby hands lunged for it, but another tribute snatched it up right before me. Without thinking, I grabbed the closest weapon- a short dagger. I unsheathed the weapon, and stabbed the tribute in the shoulder. The blow was not deadly, but enough to send the boy staggering, dropping the bow. Hungrily, I managed to grab my prize, ready to feel the guilt later as I turned to run out of the Cornucopia. But as my feet flew for the cover of the trees where I could see my sister disappear into, something blunt underneath me sent my tumbling down to the ground.

Suddenly, I felt fear creep into my very bones as I turned to look up at a looming shadow. A person was standing above me in a terrifying manner- hunched over and breathing hard. Oh dear Lord, I lost already. I was stupid, greedy, and idiotic. Now Tiff has no chance. I thought before looking my attacker in the eye, and a loathing poisoned the tip of the blade.

It was the District Two boy.

[Cazio]

ooc// yup! and no problem!
i think I powerplayed a tiny bit in here too, just to make it a little more dramatic. hope thats alright. >.<

also; here's the tributes that have died in this post (just for reference/front page): Hail Dickens (D10), Tundra Lord (D7-wasn't explicitly mentioned)

The thunderous boom that signaled the start of the games sent Alonso charging forward, every muscle falling into place. Careers trained for days just practicing their takeoff sprints. More often than not, weaker tributes would start sprinting and then become overwhelmed and unconsciously slow their pace. A fatal mistake when dealing with Careers. He arrived at the Cornucopia second, the District 1 boy, Henry Peters, beat him to it. The two males glanced at one another, but after a tense split second staredown both decided to hold to their truce. Alonso grabbed a gleaming silver shortsword just as the sound of pounding footseteps thudded behind him. He whipped around to see a District ten boy, Hail, coming at him with only an arrow as a weapon.

Alonso’s sword seemed to move itself as it sliced cleanly through the layers of fabric that clothed Hail. The blade found its way into Hail’s chest cavity, and with a flick of Alonso’s forearm, the weapon came free and Hail slumped to his knees. The flimsy arrow fell to the grass. Alonso swallowed, but he had no time to think about his first murder. The dark-haired career lunged forward, plucking a sturdy-looking medkit from the measly pile of medical supplies. A few other careers’ hands shot out, snatching up the remaining four cases and making a break for it. A few looked as though they were going to stay and stake out the cornucopia, standard practice, especially for Careers from District 1. Alonso knew his welcome was wearing thin, especially since he had flatly refused to join any posses. But he needed rope, freeclimbing a rock face wouldn’t be a problem for either of the Montero brothers, but it was a huge risk. If another tribute so much as threw a large rock at them, they could plummet to their death.

He scrambled for the rope, dodging an axe from a non-Career who was quickly dispatched by a District 4 tribute. Alonso didn’t offer a glance of gratitude, knowing it would be pointless. They weren’t friends, nor allies. He spotted a long coil of nylon cord, feeling his senses hone in on it. He recognized the tribute carrying it, Ryan Larknight. Ryan caught Alonso’s eye and bolted, knowing Alonso would have charged him if he’d waited a second longer. He swiveled, scanning for more coils of nylon. He spied two remaining lengths of rope on a platform, but they were snatched and gone before he could take more than a few steps. He cursed, then went back to the sword supply. Most of the blades were still left, the Careers were protecting the bladed weapons more than other supplies. Alonso approached it again, his shortblade still dripping with Hail’s blood. Henry took a warning step closer, but Alonso grabbed another shortblade anyway, taking off towards the forest. Henry didn’t give chase, probably because the boy knew how stupid it would be for a 14 year old to go after an 18 year old with two weapons.

Before Alonso made it too far off, he caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. His pupils narrowed and his lips molded into a murderous smile. The girl from District 2. She was running like a panicked prey animal, a silver bow in hand. Just like Katniss, he thought. She was too close not to go after, so he veered right, sprinting after her with a stride she would never be able to match. She was a dead woman walking, well, running. As he approached, he got the feeling she wasn’t focused on anything but the treeline, a rookie mistake. Her sister was probably just beyond the pines, waiting for her.

Fate was on his side again as he closed in, poising his shortblade for a swift kill. Suddenly she tripped, slamming into the dirt with a loud thud. He couldn’t help but smile at her fall; this kill was going to be too easy. He slid to a stop, his lungs pumping and his heart desperately trying to catch up with him. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one had been chasing after either of them, but the field was mostly clear by now. Breathing hard, he stepped over her, leaning down to make sure she would see who it was. She turned, and her eyes went wide with fear.

He lowered the tip of his blade to her throat, managing to chuckle.

“Well, look at that. I caught you.”

Alonso put a bit of force into the steel, just enough to break the skin and send a tiny trickle of blood running down her neck. Seconds passed, and he realized he was still stuck on her face. Her eyes, they weren’t filled with fear anymore, they looked…desperate. Disappointed. Guilty, even. She wasn’t thinking about herself anymore, she was probably thinking of the little girl waiting behind the trees, huddled with whatever little treasure she’d managed to snatch up. Or maybe, she hadn’t gotten anything and was on her own, terrified. Alonso instantly thought of Gavin, who was probably doing the same thing, wondering why his older brother hadn’t showed up yet.

His blood chilled, and he was overcome with the urge to get to his brother before he did something stupid like go out and look for him. Gavin could be idiotic like that, especially when he was stressed out. Alonso swallowed, clenching his jaw. But this girl had to die! The cameras were on him now, waiting for him to end her. He readjusted his grip on the sword, feeling each beat of his heart in his fingers. But the image of her little sister sitting there was racing through his mind. He’d committed the cardinal sin; allowing his conscious to come into play.

“Dammit,” he tore away from her gaze, looking to the treeline that had been nearest to his brother’s starting position. The place where they were going to meet up. He looked down at the girl one last time; the message clear.

Next time, I will kill you.

He took off running, his brain kicking back into gear and screaming for him to turn around and slice her throat, but he just kept heading for the treeline.


--------


“Gav!” Alonso whispered loudly. Panic began to set in as he thought he might have been wrong, that his brother was dead. He hadn’t really been paying attention to the cannon blasts so he wouldn’t know who was dead until that night.

Something whacked him on the head and he turned, prepared to strike. A pebble?

“Up here, idiot,” Gavin’s voice sounded from above. A dark head of hair peeked over the edge of a steep rock face and Alonso felt a wave of relief. Gavin dropped a rope down and Alonso climbed up without hesitation. Gavin had found an indent in the face, to small to be called a cave, but it was wide enough for the two boys to fit comfortably. Alonso attacked his little brother in a hug, feeling as though Gavin was going to disappear at any moment.

Gavin playfully shoved him away after a few seconds, never one for “chick flick moments”. “So, I got a backpack and some rope,” Gavin held up a brown bag, “Back pack has a waterbottle, iodine, matches, nightvision goggles bread and a sleeping bag. I also got some rope.

“Nice,” Alonso settled back, holding out a shortblade. “I got a med kit, and I got these. One for you, one for me." Gavin smiled lightly, but both boys knew Gavin would be better off defending himself with a book. Gavin turned and began to recoil the rope so other tributes wouldn’t have an access point to their little safehaven.

“This place has a good view. I saw two groups of tributes going southeast, one pair head east. Most of the Careers are at the cornucopia. Not sure who though.” Gavin looked out through the trees as the shining metal structure, his dark eyes somber.

“Good, that’ll be useful. We have to plan out where we’re going next, this place is to vulnerable for us to stay more than a few hours. Those Careers are gonna rig their base and start making the rounds, if they have arrows, we’re screwed.” Alonso scanned the horizon, looking for any possible place that they could hide. The land was rugged and unforgiving, just how he liked it. “And, that girl from D12 has a bow. No clue how she got close enough.” He looked down, suddenly interested in a tiny rock. Gavin leaned his head back, sighing.

“Great. Well, we can move in the evening, we need to take a breather and make a real plan before we just go out there and get ourselves killed.”

Alonso shut his eyes, laughing lightly. “We did it Gav, we’re alive.”

He instantly thought of the girl, and how she was probably telling her sister the same thing. And you better count yourself lucky, because that will never happen again.

[katniss,]

Yup that's fine! I made a few other tributes die as well. c:
Soo... where do you wanna go now? Keep roleplaying through this day, or maybe skip a few days? Make a megapost each covering a few days of relative quietness, before having Tiff die for me, and maybe then Alonso getting injured, Gavin not knowing what to do and Marcy bumping in and helping? Idk. x3

[ мαяceℓℓe αngeℓ αмвeяsσn ]

››› Something strange happened with that District 2 boy. Something sparked in between me and that boy who I didn't know the name of.

I don't know what happened, I don't remember exactly what I was thinking as I lay beneath him on the ground, his towering body looming dangerously over me as he readied for my death. Then... he gave me a warning look and took off into the opposite direction, disappearing into the trees without another word. I think he said "dammit", though.

As I took off towards the direction I had been going before, hoping Tiff was waiting for me where I had gestured her to go, I grabbed a lone backpack, noticing the pitch black shade that covered the entire frame before continuing my bolt into the trees. If I was lucky, Tiff had managed to snatch up a piece of plastic and a short knife. If I was lucky. Right before I reached the line of trees, something whizzed past my ear and jammed into a tree up ahead. Then another. Narrowing my gaze, I realized what was flying in my direction. Throwing stars. And they were coming fast. Huffing, I turned around to see my attacker. She was a small, angelic little girl with bow-shaped lips and pure white hair. Literally pure white. Her eyes were bright green, flickering sweetly as she ran behind me, her legs pumping and her arms quick as she sped up closer to me. For a moment, I felt the urge to hold out my hand to her, offer to help her into the forest to safety.

Then I realized she was coming after me. She was coming to kill me. Instantly, I shut my eyes for a brief moment. This was just like hunting. I was hunting prey, feeding my family, and shooting rabbits. This was no different than killing a deer. I had done this countless times. Human, animal. No difference, right? Well, that is easy to think, but so much harder to follow through with. I raised my silver bow, notching an arrow into the quiver and the moment I was able to focus my accuracy, I shot one of my twelve arrows straight into the girl's chest.

I didn't even know her name. And I had just killed her. Slowly, her hand quivered down to her chest, before she collapsed face forward into the ground. Her eyes were wide in pain and she let out an agonizing scream. Yet no person turned around in the battling tributes up ahead- a scream was just one less enemy. Instead, more cries of pain echoed from the bloodbathe. Hesitating, I ran up to the girl's side, pulling the arrow out of her chest before locking my gaze on her's. I didn't say anything, but I was frozen in place. I couldn't stop staring into those big green eyes. I could tell that she was only twelve once I was closer up. She had a tiny figure, and a catlike appearance in her lithe muscles.

Gently, I placed my fingers to my lips, and then pressed them on her temple. She opened her mouth with her last strand of energy, and mouthed three words. I forgive you. I didn't even know her name. And she was dead in my arms. Glancing down at her jacket, I noticed the "ONE" tattooed behind her ear- a common tradition done by tributes from District One before they entered the Games. An easy way for veiwers to remember the District One tributes. Sudddenly her name came to me- Samantha Sherman, age 12. Her sister was Harmony, age 17. And from what I could see of Harmony, if she found out I killed her sister she would make sure to personally kill me.

Placing her body gently down in the grass, I dried the bloodied arrow on the mossy grass and then turned and ran into the treelines, not saying another word. No tears came, because I had prepared myself for this before. She had just been prey. Another tribute, another dead rabbit. A way to keep the family going. As I broke through the trees, I tried to spot my sister, but no golden blonde hair was visible. No small body bounding up to me with loot in her hands. Terrified, I began to whirl around in circles, abstaining from crying her name and alerting the other tributes of my position. "Tiff! Tiff!" I spat, only loud enough for someone nearby to hear. A small squeek above my head alerted my attention.

"Marcy, up here," a little mew sounded, and I crained my head up to see Tiff perched in the trees above me, on her haunches and clinging to a branch in terror. Obviously she had tried to climb up a tree for safety, and was now paralyzed in fear of falling. Typical Tiff. Stopping myself from groaning, I placed my bow and backpack down at the base of the oak, and launched myself up the tree. Weaving through the branches, I found a steady holding. Within a minute or so, I managed to climb up to the branch Tiff was clinging to.

"Tiff, okay, now you have to shimmy your way over to me. Then we both are going to have to climb down. I have some water in my backpack that you can have, since I bet your thirsty," I instructed carefully, and Tiff nodded stiffly. At the pace of a snail, she crawled towards me, all four climbs wrapped around the tree branch as she inched closer. Finally, as she reached to grab my hand, I gripped her arm and pulled her close to the outcropping I was gripped to. Once I had managed to do so, it took us around five minutes to get down to the ground. I checked Tiff up and down, before turning to reach for my backpack. But it was gone, and so was my bow. "Crap!" I spat, turning around a few times before spotting the culprit. A few paces away, a boy, his back turned, was bolting away from me, with my backpack and my bow in his hands. Anger bubbled inside of me, and I turned to Tiff.

"Here, I managed to grab this stuff. A short dagger, a sleeping bag, and a piece of plastic," she shrugged, obviously giving up on the stolen supplies. Without a word, I snatched the dagger and warned her to stay close to me. Quickly, I picked up the pace and began to run, my legs pumping as I remained my focus on the thief up ahead. He was getting closer, and I was getting nearer. Suddenly, I recognized something. There was a jagged scar slashed across the back of his neck. The mark was obviously from the chaffing that marked a coal miner's shoulder bag. The thief was Richard Gales, a District 12 tribute.

"Ricky?" I croaked, now uncertain. The boy froze, turning around and comfirming my suspisions. He was caught off guard, but quickly hardened his facial expressions. I could tell from that moment he wasn't going to give me my stuff, but I tried anyway. "That's my stuff you got there," I murmured, taking a few steps forward. He inched backwards, before spitting in my direction. "No, its mine now," he growled, and I narrowed my eyes deeper. Grappling my knife, sudden rage coarsed through my veins. This backpack, that bow- they were my lifelines. Without them me and Tiff could die. Angry, I repeated myself. Give me the bag. He didn't budge. Instead, he turned towards the bow and grabbed an arrow, preparing to shoot. Without thinking I threw the knife, and it landed square in in between his shoulder blade and collarbone. Digging deep into his skin, I knew the wound would be deadly. I hustled forward, picking up my backpack and grabbing my bow and arrows, before pulling the knife out of his body as well. Wiping the weapon off on the tribute's jacket, I tried not to feel guilt, but I knew the pain of killing a fellow Seam child would come back to bite me.

Turning around, I spotted Tiff studying me with wide eyes. She looked terrified, shell-shocked. I didn't say a word as I walked up to her side, handing the knife back to her. "Keep this, just in case," I warned, before grabbing her hand and leading her away from Ricky's body, and into the direction of the sloping hill. "Wait, see if he has anymore supplies," was all Tiff said, and her words surprised me. No tears, no upset remarks. Simple strategy, basic survival sense. I nodded, before returning to Ricky's body. I found nothing on him, so I shrugged and returned to Tiff's side. We didn't say a word as we walked through the forest, not going anywhere specific. We just kept walking. Away from the Cornucopia, away from the deaths. Deeper into the forest, higher into the mountain. Twenty minutes into our hike, we stopped, and the sky was beginning to darken- warning tributes of the approaching night.

"Let's find a cave to camp in," I suggested, and Tiff nodded in agreement. No trees. We were not going to risk sleeping up in the trees- especially with only one sleeping bag and the dangers of falling out of the tree. Plus, after the last incident with the tree earlier today, I doubted Tiff would be comfortable to go up into the treetops again any time soon, especially when going to sleep. So we kept hiking, and the daylight began to become sucked out of the night sky. In between the trees, I could see stars twinkling angelically- oblivious to the bloodshed that happened today. Suddenly, the cannons began to fire. The battles had finally ended, obviously, so the cannon had sounded and the bodies had been collected. I froze, counting the cannons.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

Twelve tributes had died today. One out of every four tributes had died already. While that statistic seemed minor, since thirty-six more tributes remained, I could only think of one thing. Twelve families had lost a child today. Twelve sets of parents had one less son or daughter. Twelves sets of siblings had one less brother or sister. And I had been a part of that murdering. Now Ricky and Samantha's families could never see their beloveds again.

A caressing hand broke me from my thoughts. Tiff was squeezing my own hand with her's, reminding me silently that everything would be okay. As the faces of the twelve tributes flashed through the sky, I blinked the tears forming away, again. I could not cry. I could and would not show Tiff how sad, scared, and guilty I felt. "Come on, I think there is a cave around here," I finally spoke as the Capitol anthem died down and the tributes faces disappeared from the pixalized sky above us. Tiff nodded gently, before following me sideways across the hill a little ways. Finally, we found a good spot to rest for a night or two- a small yet spacy cave nestled into an outcropping. The cave stood hidden between two boulders, shrouded from view by a nestle of ferns. Easy to overlook, and not too obvious of a sleeping spot.

Tiff and I walked into the cave, and made sure there were no unwelcoming predators lurking inside before we set down the backpack, bow, knife, and piece of plastic. I stuffed the white plastic into the backpack, before pulling out a tin of crackers and a small apple from the bag. Going through the contents of the black backpack, I found two more tins of crackers, three waterbottles- all full-, another apple, a tin of iodine, a rope, a crooked knife, and a pouch of matches. Good enough. I opened a tin of the crackers, and gave Tiff five and myself three, before slicing the apple with a knife and giving Tiff the bigger half. As I was cutting the fruit the knife broke, and I got a slit in my finger. A small one, but I just hoped the wound wouldn't get infected. Cursing to myself, I dabbed some water on the cut before turning back to the meal. We ate quietly, mulling over the day's events before finishing our small meal with a gulp. The sky was pitch black now, and the forest was eerily silent. Once I packed up the backpack again, I pulled out the sleeping bag and arranged it around me and Tiff, before curling inside with my sister. We lay in silence for a while, unsure of what to say.

"Marcy?" the voice came from her mouth softly and meekly.

"Yes, Tiff?" I answered, hugging her tightly to my body as I stroked her head.

"We are gonna get through this, aren't we? Just like how we got through Daddy's execution and mommy's death?" Tiff murmured, a shiver tingling down her spine. I thought about this softly, before replying.

"Of course we are. You and me? We will get through anything," I caressed, stroking her hair. Content by this, Tiff snuggled closer to me. Within a few minutes she fell asleep, and I tried to do the same. But no sleep came.

All I could think about was the boy from District Two.

[Cazio]

ooc// yeah we could do a super megapost where we (quickly) rp out the rest of the first day, then cover a few days of not much happening.

then maybe the Gamemakers bring in a nice thunderstorm that causes a mudslide or something to stir up the playing field. the tributes get nervous and start really going after each other. somewhere in there tiff dies and maybe a lone tribute catches alonso and he gets injured....this part could be over a few posts, or one, whatever you want. ^^

[katniss,]

{.{ Okay, I will post tomorrow. You can post before or after me, whenever. c: }.}
{.{ How about we each do a major post, and near the end of each post the storm starts to happen? And... we rp another post each, Tiff gets killed/whater and you do your thing with Alonso, and then Marcy finds him? We can figure out where we go from there after that. Maybe Marcy gets a sponser gift with medicine in it, and helps Alonso heal? Alonso and Gavin could have been split up, to add some drama. }.}