[ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ∴𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤∵]

[sheepish]

˓〈 Ｚｅｒｅｎ 　Ｋｏｓ 〉˒
━━━━━━━━location; district three━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━tags; the reaping━━━━━━━━

　　he wasn't paying attention to the excuse for words that were rambling out of district three's escort's absurdly large mouth. he didn't care. why should he care? this was all just entertainment. zeren kos was rather sour that he had to be dragged away from his peaceful cabin where he was comfortable. his isolation away from the majority of the populous. standing in the background with his jaw clenched, he glared over the large crowd. he had won already, couldn't he just go home? unfortunately, the odds were against him. beside him stood one other man whom he guessed was in his late fifties. he probably wouldn't stand a chance the way his fingers clutched his cane. an old injury that rendered him barely able to walk. while a part of him wished a quick end for the older man, he also knew his own odds weren't all that hot. gaze turning forward once more, he realized the female for their district was already chosen. he couldn't say he knew who she was, but she appeared young and could likely stand a chance for what hell awaited in the arena.
　　as the escort continued to speak, zeren recognized that it was time for the men. deciding against watching as the gaudy woman reached her hand into the bowl, he let out an impatient sigh as she fumbled with the paper. silence. as his name suddenly rang out over the crowd, he didn't fully comprehend what just occurred. that was until the man beside him crumpled to the floor with relief. only turning his head to look down at him, he pursed his lips as the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. he understood that everyone eventually died, but it seems his time was close.
　　feeling his lanky body being dragged towards the microphone to say a couple of words, he stared down at the cold metal device but could only muster a small ❝huh.❞ in response. ignoring the urging from the escort for a speech, zeren prematurely turned on his heels and began for the door behind him. he knew what to do. he watched it every year and experienced it himself. he hated everything about it. with a cold rage boiling in his stomach, he walked beyond the room they were meant to talk to family with as he had none. he guessed it was better he had been chosen rather than the old man. at least he probably had people who cared about him.
　　soon finding peacekeepers at his heels, he was restrained for his insubordination. appreciating the force and the cool metal wall his head and body were pressed against, he was glad he could feel something else. anything else to distract him from reality. he would eventually accept it but now was not the time. for he knew what the future held and could only hope to push it away. soon enough, he was locked into his district's train car. due to his actions, he was unable to socialize with the other tributes. it didn't matter, he wouldn't have anyways.

[rose petals.]

⚜𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐲𝐱 𝐑𝐲𝐥𝐞
(𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝟷)→|female.|27.|91st victor|location: d1| tags: jericho|

Today was reaping day. Although it was different than normal for Velvet, who normally watched from the sidelines as two bright young careers volunteered. This time however, her name would be in the bowl again. Nine years ago, Infinity Hughe's name had been called, a shy fifteen year old girl who Velvet volunteered for. Three years later, Infinity volunteered for the games herself, dying. Velvet had pretended to not care...

There was a framed picture on Velvet's vanity, two young teenagers stuffed into the frame and smiling ear to ear. One of them was an able bodied young boy, with wispy platinum blonde hair. The other was a younger Velvet. Velvet grew older and changed, Tiber, the boy in the photo, didn't. Velvet shivered when she remembered the feeling of her knife sinking into his heart- no. she couldn't think about this today...

Velvet brushed her hair and gently but it back into a bun. Then she wore a simple dark blue dress, it fell to her knees and wasn't too extravagant. A day where 23 victors were to be sentenced to their deaths wasn't celebratory. She wore a simple gold bracelet and skin-toned shoes to finish the outfit, as well as some light natural makeup.

"B..breakfast time Zeus!" Velvet called for her dog, trying to sound as happy as possible. Dogs were good at detecting stress and negativity, Velvet didn't want the last thing Zeus remembered of her to be bad if she didn't end up returning to him. The Capitol supplied avoxes to some of the richer victors, but Velvet didn't accept. She didn't do much cleaning, so most of the unused rooms sat gathering dust. She didn't want anyone but her caring for Zeus, he was her dog, she should be the one who cared for him.

"Good boy!" Velvet exclaimed when the samoyed dog sat patiently by his food dish while Velvet supplied him with the best dog food money could buy. The Captiol kept her well funded for staying in the spotlight. "I have to go Zeusy. I'll be back. Don't worry." Velvet said with an enthusiastic smile, it would be horrid to go back into that arena... with a shiver Velvet made the walk from the Victor's Village to the town center.

The reaping started from the east coast and moved west, so the tributes from 12 would be decided first, with district 4 decided last. District one was between districts 5 and 7 in the order, but even though they were near the end, Velvet didn't know any other tributes for the special 100th games. A camera flashed nearby, drawing Velvet from her thoughts. She smiled at the photographer, and kept walking, but he wasn't done. "Velvet! Velvet! Are you nervous?" "Not at all!" Velvet responded, of course it was fake, she was nervous as hell. "Do you plan to volunteer?" She hadn't really thought about it... "You'll have to wait and see!"

Being in the spot light was exhausting, but Velvet had gotten used to it, over the years. She moved to the town center, with all eyes on her and her fellow victors. Men to one side, women to the others. Velvet was standing near the front, confident and poised like always. There was a decent amount of women standing around her, surely one of them would be drawn instead of her and she wouldn't have to bother with the games ever again.

"Welcome to the 100th reaping day!" There was something about district one's escort that was strangely solemn. She doesn't want to see us go. Velvet realized. "As usual, ladies first!" The Capitol escort reached into the bowl and pulled one of the names. She was silent, dead silent. "Ellianna George..." Velvet's eyes jumped to one of her own mentors. She was 97! The old lady began to hobble her way to the front slowly while Velvet watched. It would've been easy to just watch as Ellianna George made the slow walk up to the podium, but Velvet knew she couldn't do that. Her eyes searched the men, most of them would probably feel obligated to protect Ellianna, she was so helpless! She wouldn't survive a day in the arena. Her reaping was testing District one's reputation and destroying their chances as a victory.

"I volunteer as tribute!" Velvet Onyx Ryle called for the second time in her life. There was a noticeable sigh of relief from the crowd, and the escort's face lit up. "Velvet dear! Come on up!" Velvet grimaced as she stepped up into the podium. She looked up at the crowd of district one, oh goodness what had she done?

No one had come to see her. All of her friends had befriended her because of her popularity, not because they really cared. That was apparent. Velvet decided the simple gold bracelet would be her token item, she thought that if she ever had to go back into the arena, god forbid, that her token would've been the picture of her and tiber. But maybe the bracelet was better, no bad memories. A peacekeeper came to escort Velvet to the train, but she didn't need escorting, she had volunteered after all, she didn't need escorting.

That was when she saw Jericho for the first time since the reaping, she had mentored him through his hunger games, and of all the options of someone to be in the games with he was a good option. Velvet let her shoulders fall for the first time since she let her voice carry over the whole district. "Hey." Velvet said with relief.

🎕𝐍𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝
(𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝟷𝟷)→|female.|22.|93rd victor.|location: d11.| tags: none|

"You'll never forget my face, eleven." Shouted the district two boy as he lay dying. Nilla woke from her dream, the one that had stayed in her subconscious for seven years. Her hair was a complete mess, curly brown locks sticking out of her head at all angles. She brushed it out quickly before pulling it back into a thick ponytail. Sleep threatened to pull her back so Nilla made her way to the kitchen. She made herself a bitter cup of coffee and tried to down it all in one gulp. "Disgusting." She spat, shaking her head. Even the coffee in the poorer districts was bad. Despite being a victor and living a life of "luxury", Nilla was pretty much forgotten. The Capitol and it's citizens had moved on, leaving Nilla in a big house with a faulty coffee maker that would probably never be fixed.

Correction- it definitely would never be fixed. Because today was the day Nilla Amberwood was going to be condemned to die. It wasn't like it was a surprise, she was the only living victor off the agriculture district, which meant she would be thrown back into the arena to fight for the death. Her chances of survival were limited compared to the season killers, plus, with hardly anyone who remembered her name, sponsor gifts were unlikely.

Anyone currently watching Nilla could assume she was being pessimistic about it, but she was just tired. Sleep was something Nilla always needed more of, and after the hunger games, she hardly got any of it. After downing another cup of horrible coffee, the victor decided to finally get ready for the day. She wore a black jumpsuit, the dressiest thing she had in her closet. She had worn it to the reaping for the past seven years. Did anyone notice it?

The victor's village was quiet, as usual, when Nilla made her walk to the town square. People whispered and looked at her, which was strange, Nilla wasn't used to the attention. It was actually making her nervous. When the escort made his way to the stage, you could hear a pin drop. Nilla jumped when a harsh mockingjay let out a horrid off-key sound, followed by the rest of it's flock mimicking it. Stupid birds. The victor thought.

Everyone's eyes were on her as the chaperone lowered his hand into the reaping bowl with only one name in it. "Nilla Amberwood." There was no sound. Nilla put on the cockiest, worst smile and paced up to the stage. "Ni-" The chaperone was interrupted by Nilla's laughter. She was laughing at her own death sentence! There was nothing else to be but amused!

[d0gteeth]

███░░░x( ➴ ) ━ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑x░░░███

SHE HAS BEEN THROUGH HELL.
SO BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY,
FEAR HER WHEN SHE LOOKS INTO THE FIRE AND SMILES.

Six years ago she was promised that would be the last time she was pinned against other children and made to fight to the death.
Here she was six years later doing it again. Only an adult this time.
She wasn't sure what was crueler - the false promises and brief moments of true hope they conjured or the cold reality that when you "won" the games, you were never done. You were never finished. Either way she was bound to a life that revolved around the murder of innocent children. An event she participated in. She hadn't gone ballistic like most of these tributes and killed recklessly. Jen only killed if absolutely necessary and otherwise avoided it at all costs. She was wary of the fact that her morals didn't quite match up with the rest of the group. She'd watched anyone that came before her win their games. Not because she wanted to but because her mentor forced her to. She had done everything in her power to block out the many gruesome, bloody deaths but not seemed as good of a time as ever to conjure them up again and recall those mental tabs she took on them.
There was one other female victor present. District 12 was known for a very low count as far as victors went. As far as male victors went there was only one. He was her district partner and the one stepping into the arena alongside her. Too bad she didn't care much to make friends. He'd be lucky to get a peep out of Jen, even she knew that.
The district escort emerged from the Justice Building in wobbling heels and a ridiculous hairdo. However her defining trait happened to be her porcelain skin. So fair she looked less a human being and more like something akin to the undead. She was always so upbeat, as if she didn't live in the capitol (we're gonna assume this would be capitol instead of capital c;) of squalor. It could be a facade - she could really cry herself to sleep over it. Whining about the dirt underneath her fingernails and how her dress got even a dust particle on it. Capitol citizens enraged her to no end and rightfully so. She had little to no sympathy for them. Jen might have felt bad if they were truly as naive as they made themselves out to be but with all that money and proper schooling? There was no possible way they weren't smart enough to distinguish what the games really were.
"Welcome welcome! We're gathered here today to celebrate the 100th anniversary and fourth Quarter Quell of The Hunger Games!" Jen straightened herself out, acknowledging that it was in fact time. Time to face the other tributes and soon, the arena. Once again. The escort, Euphrasia, clapped her hands together and worked her lips into what was meant to be a smile. It was amusing to watch her try. She could barely move her mouth courtesy of all the surgery she'd had done. "Ladies first!" She squeaked before tip-toeing her way over to the cylindrical glass bowl. Her hand tossed the two pieces of paper around for a few seconds before she finalized the decision. Plucking the name out and holding it up to the light, Euphrasia scurried back over to the mic and leaned in. Opening the small piece of rectangular black tape at a painfully slow rate before reading out, "Jennifer Dire!" in a shrill tone.
The blonde walked forward silently, legs climbing the steps before she took her place to the right of Euphrasia. She gestured her towards the mic but Jen remained stationary, looking forward with a stoic expression. She couldn't afford to express the flood of emotions she was feeling right now. The other female tribute, older then her by several years, made eye contact with her briefly before looking away in shame. "Well, we'll be moving on then to the male!"

He was picked and they were ushered into the Justice Building where they were giving a very short amount of time to speak with family. She had none, they had passed when she was eighteen after finding themselves in a crossfire late one night. Rumor had it the president was convinced they were rebel sympathizers too, her head was spared only because she was a past victor and they couldn't have her dead. They needed her, after all. Her parents were going to be killed sooner or later for that and perhaps a bullet to their head and heart were a more merciful way to go.
She could barely bare to think about it.
If only she had someone to deliver her father's book to her. The one he wrote for her throughout the duration of her childhood. Highlighting all of his knowledge related to hunting, shooting, anything he taught her and then some more. She could remember the letters he'd inscribed on the last page so well, a final message to her. It sent a tear rolling down her cheek.
Soon thereafter she was being shoved into the train car. She wasted no time heading to her room where she locked the door shut and made plans to not come out.

[mahou shoujo]

x
AVERY HALE____________________________________________
location. district ten | mentions. arya | tagged. open

Avery stifled a yawn, making his way through the district. His body felt heavy and sluggish. He hadn't been able to get any sleep the night before. When you're the only male victor in your district, there's only one way the reaping could go. He knew, for the second time, that he was being sentenced to death. The first time, by some form of miracle, he was able to cheat death and get out of those games with his life. But this time, going against victors, there was no way he was making it out alive. He'd probably be lucky to last a day.

Working toward the area for the victors to stand in, he caught a glimpse of Arya. She stood alone, the only female victor from the district, just like himself. The whole reaping was really just a formality at this point. There was only one male and one female victor, so there was no question who would be fighting in the games. Still, his stomach turned at the thought of his name ringing out over the district. Nausea had plagued him for the last few days and his nerves had been shot. Each time he thought about the reaping, a cold grip took hold of his heart, squeezing tight until he remembered to breathe.

Unable to do anything else, Avery just waited until the escort started her speech. He focused on her words, trying to ground himself in the present. There wasn't anything he could do, so he would just give it his best. That was all he could do after all. Soon enough, both Arya and his own name had been called out and they'd been lead onto the stage. A somber mood had settled over the crowd as everyone stood, watching the two victors they would likely never see in person again.

After exchanging tearful good-byes with his parents, he was lead to the train. While there was a car that was available to all the victors, Avery headed straight for the district ten car. Maybe he'd go check it out later, but for now he didn't want to face the people that were going to end up killing him. Settling into a plush chair, he pulled his feet up onto the seat, tucked his legs to his chest, and rested his head on his knees. His gaze settled on the window, taking in the scenery of district ten one last time before they started moving.

[strawberry smoke]

arya riesling — location: district ten — tags: avery

it had been a long time since arya first steeled herself against the jaws of fate—of death—waiting to snap shut around her. ever since the last games finished, she knew. when the district ten girl was killed before her eyes on the broadcast, no more than thirteen, arya knew the games would come around for her again. the quarter quell was like a haunting, looming over the district and their spare two victors. everyone knew she and avery were the only victors left, the only ones to be reaped. so for a year, she dealt with the pitying glances, the sympathy, and hardened her heart with each day that passed. if she was going to be in the games again, so be it. she wouldn’t just lie down and give in, and if death wanted to chase her, she was going to put up one strong fight.

when the day of the reaping came, she decided the capitol could have one last show of rebellion before she was thrown back into their gruesome chess game again, which as far as she was concerned, started the moment they stepped onto that train. the dusty pink dress she had worn to her last reaping stayed in its drawer, as did the pins she had done up her hair with. this time, arya wore her most practical gear—nothing that she wouldn’t wear out working in the pastures or tending to the livestock. she threw on a worn jacket, pants that had been ripped and torn on fence boards, chicken wire, and goat horns. then, she laced up her boots and left the house, tying her hair back in a simple ponytail as she shouldered past the door.

the reaping was little more than a show of dread and solemn silence as the crowd watched arya and avery stand alone, the only victors from their district. and even while the escort tried to maintain some facade of cheer and excitement, the energy died in the air. and when her name was eventually called, peacekeepers guiding her to the stage she hoped to never set foot on again, arya did little more than cross her arms over her chest. she wasn’t in the mood for a speech, and she doubted anyone else in the district was either. avery did much the same, standing opposite her until the formalities were finished.

arya could have said goodbye to her mother, the only family she had left, but she never came. arya couldn’t blame her; they both knew this day was coming and their every interaction had been filled with silent goodbyes for the last few weeks, the games creeping ever closer. there wasn’t any need to make it final, to say it one last time. so, arya moved to board the train, heading back to her district’s car. avery had beaten her there, already settled in a chair with his attention fixed out the window. “it’s funny, last time we were here together, you were my mentor. i guess we’re on even ground now, as tributes,” she mused, standing at the opposite side of the window. still, it hardly felt even between them, and arya couldn’t deny the hurt at why that imbalance was there. she boarded this train, not knowing whether she would come back alive or not. and from what she had learned of avery, there was likely no question in his mind. he was taking a train to his death, and that notion was like a barb in her heart, sharp and sticky, hard to shake. it unsettled her, how much she had come to care for even one of the other tributes. her last games had been filled with nameless faces, people she had never seen before in her life, never known. but things were different now.


holland roving — location: district twelve — tags: open

holland spent the morning of the reaping outside the fence. it was the only place he could find some peace, away from the dirt and despair of district twelve. most days, he had grown used to the starving children on the streets, the sooty miners trudging towards another day of backbreaking work, the stray dogs squabbling over a chicken bone someone had tossed them. but, today, it all just seemed like too much to bear, so he retreated out to the fields beyond the fence, sitting just at the tree line with an arrowhead in hand. he’d taken to making them after his games, selling them to the young hunters who snuck away to catch squirrels and pheasants to trade to the more lenient peacekeepers. he hadn’t made a single shot since the day his name had echoed through the arena, the sole survivor and victor of that year’s hunger games. he chiseled stone into arrowheads, fixer feathers to wooden shafts, even restrung broken bows on occasion, but never made a shot. but, that was about to change, if he wanted a chance at survival.

he wore grey to the reaping, once he had come back from the breeze and birdsong of the wilderness beyond the fence. it seemed only fitting, a solemn color for a solemn day. and, with a pit in his stomach, he stepped onto that dreaded stage when his name was called. the female tribute, jennifer, looked just as displeased as he was, neither of them caring to make a remark about their reaping. what was there to say anyways? this was likely the last time either of them would see their district, their home, and everyone knew it. he couldn’t make a speech that would say anything new, anything that everyone wasn’t already aware of about their grim fate. so, he didn’t.

goodbye’s were simple, as holland had only his father left, and they had never been particularly close. with a wordless hug, and a simple wish of good luck, he was gone, and holland was being ushered off to the train. and while most tributes headed back to their district cars, to process or hide away, he lingered in the one meant to be common ground, shared by all tributes. it seemed the better option, rather than sulking and wallowing in self pity. he took a seat by the window, and as they made each stop through the districts, the occasional other tribute stuck around while the rest just passed by. if this was his fate, to kill or be killed by these people, he didn’t want to hide from the truth of it, turn a blind eye to the horrors that would no doubt be committed. it seemed wrong, irresponsible and disrespectful, to turn the other way. so, he watched people filter in and out of the train car with every stop. still, something cold and sludgy roiled in his stomach, knowing that all but one of these victors would be dead in just a short time. it was a hard thing to bear, watching people board the train, knowing that for only one would this be a round trip.

[natrillie]

𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓏𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾
───────────────────────────────
[ district four ] [ 26 ] [ mentioned: n/a ] [ tagged: n/a ] [ location: district four ]

the square was bustling with life as clementine made her way to the area sectioned off for the previous district four victors. the only thing keeping her calm was the distant sound of crashing waves and the slight tinge of salt in the air. "i'll be back on the water by tonight. why worry yourself for no reason?" clem tried to reassure herself, picking up the pace in a pointless attempt to get the reaping over with. her cinnamon brown hair bounced as she walked, every step a little heavier than the last. this felt so familiar to her. sure it had been about ten years since her first games, but it was almost like she was seventeen again, walking to her supposed doom after being called up to represent her district.
the female section housed girls of all different ranges. just about all of them wore the same look of anxiety on their faces, leaving an unsettling lump in the back of clementine's throat. the crowd below the stage was much smaller than usual, as majority of the district four occupants watched from the outskirts of the square. now standing next to a more elderly lady, clem gently nodded to her, forcing a grin before turning back to face the stage. she must've been the last to arrive as deecee hawshire, district four's escort, made her way to the microphone. two podiums stood on either side of deecee, the bowls on top glistening menacingly at the men and women below.
"welcome victors! to the hundredth annual hunger games! as you all know, this year we will be picking from the existing pool of victors. it is with great honor.." clem's thoughts trailed off as her eyes wandered to her feet. she thought of her little brother, newt, watching alongside their dad. the poor boy couldn't take clem going through the games again. the chances of winning were incredibly slim, as only the most strategic and brutal of the tributes could take the cake this year. as the shuffling of nervous feet seemed to come to a stand still, clementine returned her gaze to deecee, watching as she hovered her hand over the girl's bowl. the paper was so small it could hardly be seen in deecee's hand from the ground. how could such a lifeless piece of junk be what determines whether someone lives or dies?
"clementine ezilli!"
the shuffling returned as all of the women around her relaxed. clem on the other hand remained stiff, her decently tan skin flushing white. she knew the chances were high when she was reaped the first time, but this was much different. last time she had a chance, her spear skills were enough to align her with the careers and secure her safe passage through the bloodbath. not this time. everyone reaped was dangerous; nobody could be trusted. this was a death sentence.
the shock and adrenaline keeping her from screaming, clementine didn't bother to resist as a peacekeeper waved through the crowd of women to retrieve her. hardly needing to guide her, clem was up the steps in just a few seconds, staring back at the people who's lives would go back to normal in just a few minutes. they'd all go home or back to work like it was nothing. a sudden rage boiled in clementine's blood. in that moment she detested the capitol; she wanted them to pay for what they've done to panem. but as newt's cry of despair echoed from the far right corner, clem was pulled from her moment of hatred. not wanting to look at him, clem instead turned to the cameras, repressing every emotion before bringing a bright smile to her face and adding a little twirl for the watchers to see. that was her shtick. it worked last games, maybe she could pull it off again. clementine would get them to love her, it was an easy way to get sponsors in the arena.
deecee gave clem a soft pat on the shoulder and let out a bird-like laugh before spinning on her six-inch heels and shifting over to the boys bowl. she watched as the boy made his way to the stage beside her, refusing to let her smile fade until the cameras were down. in a flash, the peacekeepers were back at her side shoving her into the main hall where their families would get a brief moment to say their goodbyes. a few minutes went by as clementine assumed there was trouble finding her father and brother, but just as she thought there would be no farewells, newt came bursting through the door, his sobs still as loud as ever. clem embraced him in a tight hug, brushing his dirty blonde hair in a sad attempt to comfort him. "shhhh. it'll be okay little buddy." her voice occasionally hurled as she spoke, as it took everything in her power not to cry in front of the fragile boy. "i made it out last time right?" he nodded at her before standing up and returning to their dad's side. he had never been the affectionate type, but clem could tell he was also struggling to keep his composure. "i'll see you guys later." she nodded to them as the peacekeepers lead them out, not willing to bring down her usual act of optimism.

[mahou shoujo]

x
CALISTA MARELLE____________________________________________
location. district eight/train common area | mentions. none | tagged. open

The morning passed by slowly, each minute scraping by as Calista worked to get ready. She donned a simple white dress that fell to her knees in soft pleats. She left her hair loose and wavy after taking it out of the braids she slept in. Glancing in the mirror, she took in her appearance. Everything about her was soft and gentle, expect her bright green eyes. She didn't look like a victor, someone who had killed and fought just to stay alive. She still looked like a teenager, long limbs and soft features. Pushing that thought aside, she stepped away from the mirror.

The walk into the center of town was largely uneventful. Sure, she got some pitying glances and hellos said with furrowed brows, concern clear among their features. The odds were not very good. There were only two other female victors in the district, so there was a one in three chance that she'd have to go back to the arena again. It felt like she had just gotten home. Victor tours were somewhat of a lengthy process after all. Now, she had to face it all again. The familiar nerves bubbled up in her stomach as she approached the reaping stage. Taking her place alongside the two other women, Calista let out a long breath and squared her shoulders.

The normal speech was rattled off by the escort, followed by the "special" rules for the Quarter Quell. She went on about how amazing it was that two of the victors from the district would get the chance to try and prove themselves again, fighting for the honor of the district. It all felt like a lie. There was no honor in killing. Only sadness and pain came from taking a life, no good came of it.

"Calista Marelle!" Her name echoed out over the crowd. Letting out a long breath, she walked up to the stage, carefully climbing the stairs. She did the same thing as the first time she stepped on this stage, give a smile and a quick greeting then step back and wait for the male to be called. It hadn't quite hit her yet that she was going to fight in the games again. Of course she knew logically that it was going to happen, but it hadn't settled in yet. Calmly, she went through the motions. She said goodbye to her mother, who seemed far more upset than Calista felt, then boarded the train. She found the car open to all the tributes and sat down in one of the chairs. As the realization of fighting in the games again became more of a reality, she decided that she didn't really want to be alone with just the other district eight boy. Being around other people made her feel better, settled the nerves in her stomach. She could make mindless chatter if anyone felt inclined to do so. Plus, just knowing she was in the same boat as all these other people eased her stress a bit. At least she wasn't alone.

x
AVERY HALE____________________________________________
location. district ten train car | mentions. arya | tagged. arya

Shortly after sitting down, Arya opened the door to the car and made her way to the window. She was dressed head to toe in her normal clothes, things he'd seen her wear around the district. She wasn't all fancied up like what was typical for a reaping. She looked strong. That was the only word that came to mind. She stood up for herself and stood her ground, in the face of an enemy, even the Capitol themselves. It was a trait of hers that he admired. She had a determination that was near impossible to shake, and he found himself wishing he possessed a bit of that strength. Maybe he would feel a little better about being shipped off to the Capitol if that were the case.

"Even, huh." The word sounded wrong coming off his tongue. He definitely wouldn't consider their positions to be even. Of course, on paper, they were both victors. But they were worlds apart in terms of skill and demeanor. Even if it was a bit of a longshot, Arya had a chance. He, on the other hand, didn't really have a shot at winning. Sure, he'd known for the last year that he'd have to fight in the Quarter Quell. He could have used the year for training and gaining as much skill as possible. Instead, he tried to live as normally as possible, enjoying each day as much as he could.

Avery knew he wasn't a killer. He just wasn't. Before the first games, he didn't even think he'd had that ability in him. Then, it came down to the final two. It was him and some girl from a middle district. The gamemakers had taken all of the weapons from the arena, knowing a hand to hand fight would likely be more entertaining. They were forced together and the girl attacked him. They fought for a while, trading blows, before he got her pinned down. Self-preservation kicked in and he killed her, fingers pressed into her neck. He watched the life leave her eyes and then immediately panicked. He'd felt physically sick afterwards and tears burned at the back of his eyes. The girl was dead because of him. He'd sworn he'd never kill again and wanted to make good on that promise. He didn't want to ever feel that way again. So, it wasn't lack of effort that kept him from doing well in the games, it was a soft heart.

"I would say I wish we could go back, but that was miserable," he offered, trailing off with a soft chuckle. He'd been so stressed watching over Arya as a mentor. He had no idea how to help her or what to do. Then, when she was in the games, he basically didn't sleep the entire time. He kept his eyes glued to the screen, desperately hoping the girl he just sent off to fight would stay alive, come back in one piece.

[strawberry smoke]

arya riesling — location: district ten train car — tags: avery

for a moment, avery’s words just hung in the air, then there was only the quiet hum of air rushing past outside. it had been miserable back then, for both of them. that much was an understatement, to say the least. avery had been a bit of a mess, kind as always but stressed, and arya had felt completely out of her depth. training in her backyard with hastily, sloppily carved training swords and kitchen knives was one thing, but actually being called to compete in the games was a whole other beast. and at the time, arya had been resentful of avery and his gentle demeanor; it meant that she had a mentor who couldn’t teach her a thing. or, that’s what she had thought then. but, she quickly learned there was insight to be taken that wasn’t just cold blooded fighting prowess or weapon handling techniques. avery was smarter than she originally took him for, and his different outlook on life and death gave her something to consider. though, all the insight or advice in the world ultimately couldn’t save her in the games. she had a lot of resolve and a fair amount of luck to thank for that.

“i would go back,” arya said quietly. “i would do it all over again, if it meant you were on the outside of the arena.” without a doubt, she meant every word. even if those had been miserable times, waiting for looming death with each moment that ticked by in the arena, it would be easier to turn back time and do it again. at least then the people she was killing were just people. they didn’t have names, lives, personalities. not to her. she didn’t know a thing about them, and that made it easier, even if killing was still never a pleasant job. but she knew avery’s name. she knew he lived across the street from her. she knew he had a kind soul and a soft heart and hated the idea of hurting anyone. she knew he was a friend.

“just so you know, i don’t intend to kill you. even if it comes down to just us.” of course, that was a sentiment that was easier to say than it was to follow through on. because the capitol always had to have their victor. but it was the truth, that no matter what happened, avery’s blood would not be on her hands. ever since she realized they would both be reaped, she had quietly and resolutely decided that, as long as she was still breathing, avery would be too. he didn’t ask to be back in the games—like many of them—and he didn’t deserve to be either. so arya would do her best to protect him. at least, if he would let her anyway. they hadn’t said a word about the games before the reaping, or spoken of strategy, so if avery had other plans, that was his choice. but, if he didn’t, she wanted to keep him safe. it was the least she could do; he was the one person she always felt she could trust, the one who never lied to her or held hidden motives close to his chest. and someone like that deserved a chance at life. or she liked to think so, at least.

in any case, her gaze drifted across the scenery that glided past the window. they were between districts, and that meant nature had taken over. of course, the land right near the tracks was well maintained, but arya still soaked up what she could of the lush green blurring by. before too long, they would be in the capitol, and that meant city as far as the eye could see, decked out with gaudy colors and obnoxious architecture. it always set her nerves on edge, being in that wretched place. letting out a sigh, arya took a seat across from avery, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to ward of a forming headache. just thinking of the noise and bustle of the capitol, reliving it, was enough to make her head hurt. and the stress of the reaping and the coming games only added to that. it was going to be a grim while up until and through the games. arya only hoped she could survive it.

[xiao.]

𝙹𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙾 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ tags: velvet

he was so nervous. why was he nervous? maybe because he had a feeling he'd be chosen. out of all three male victors in his district, he had a gut feeling he'd be the one who'd be leaving today. he got dressed nervous, brushed his teeth nervous, and gave his dog a few last minute head pats, again, nervous as hell. and then, as soon as he stepped outside his house, he puked right there on the porch steps. his sister screeched at the sight and leapt back inside to tell their mother. meanwhile, all jericho could think of was that that may have been the last home-cooked meal he'd ever have, and now it was in a steaming pile on the porch. after cleaning up, he was once again ready to go, and this time he'd swallow whatever tried to come up. it should be known that he always puked when he was nervous, however, so he hoped there was a cleanup crew on the train.
he got many dirty glances on his way to the center of town, and some looks of approval or admiration. he knew why; he had literally killed six people when he was sixteen years old. it was an amazing feat, but many people found it strange that he had been such an angry and aggressive kid. he couldn't form an explanation for them. he just wanted to survive, he had no time to think about the souls he'd reaped. of course, two of his kills were accidents, two were betrayals, and two were just out of pure survival instinct. his first kill: an ally was trying to teach him how to use a bow and arrow, he missed the tree he was targeting and hit another tribute that was charging at them. a convenient accident. his next kill was said ally, who ate poisonous berries after he mistook them for being safe. he felt especially bad about that one. the next two were what he was famous for. he pushed a friend into a cloud of poisonous gas that was creeping up on them so he could get a head start, and then he'd left another to be butchered while they slept so he could sneak off. after seeing this, you could say he was a massive jerk who probably didn't deserve to survive. or you could say he was a massive jerk with uncanny survival instincts. either works. and then his last two kills were the results of a psychotic rage, he'd used a knife to slaughter them.

finally taking his place among the men of his district, he stood tall and firm, a stony expression holding his face. he had to keep his thoughts clear or else he may have a breakdown right in the middle of everything. eventually he tuned out the escort's voice, and his thoughts faded into the dark. "jericho lancaster!" his eyes snapped open. he hadn't realized they were closed, but the dreamland scene he'd been seeing inside his eyelids disappeared, and the ugly scene of that woman speaking appeared again. for a few seconds, he was still as stone, trying to process through the shock. the wait caused some peacekeepers to snatch him up and escort him to the stage. the shock jericho was feeling dissipated as he climbed the steps, and although his heart was pounding in his throat, he looked calm as ever as he approached the microphone. urged to speak, he slowly opened his mouth. "uh... well, there was two others to choose from, but you know... it's great to be here... i guess." his jaw snapped shut immediately after he'd spoken, and he scanned over the crowd before spinning around and walking back to meet his family.
his sister was a sobbing mess, much like last time, only now she was old enough to understand. all he could do was hold her for as long as he was allowed, telling her he'd make it back no matter what. "i promise i'll be back. i swear it." that's the last thing he could say before he was dragged away. she'd slipped a small, folded photograph into his hand, and he didn't have to open it to know what it was of. his dog, of course. oh, and she was in the picture as well, a broad smile on her face as she hugged the animal that he considered his best friend. it was a photo he'd taken not too long ago, and now it was his motivation to come back alive.

entering the train, he decided to remain inside the main car so he could study the people that came in after him. what he didn't expect was for velvet to step in behind him. she was his mentor for his games, and he liked to think he'd survived because of her motivation. his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he approached her, tugging his hair nervously. this time he was nervous for her. "hey... i heard you volunteered. pretty noble of you. but i wish you hadn't."

[rose petals.]

⚜𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐲𝐱 𝐑𝐲𝐥𝐞
(𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝟷)→|female.|27.|91st victor|location: train| tags: jericho|

As she stepped onto the train, Velvet was immediately relaxed by the luxury of it all. If there was anything that she liked, it was the classiness of this train. However, this year she wouldn't be boarding it as a mentor. She'd be boarding it as a tribute. Nine years ago, Velvet had stepped onto this train, eyes wide and shining. She had been eager to fight and bring honor to her district. She also had a thirst for the spot-light and everything that came with it. What that young girl didn't know was that she got just that. Velvet breathed a sigh at that memory, before hearing jericho's words in the forefront of her mind.

Noble, hm? Velvet hadn't thought of what she did as noble... "Well I did it for the district." She said with a smile, not exactly a 'selfish' reason but not a noble one either. If Velvet didn't owe anything to her homeland she certainly would've watched that old lady attempt to fight in the arena. Jericho's next words next words surprised her some, what did he mean by "i wish you hadn't?" "I didn't have a choice." Velvet saved her charm for the cameras, but Jericho was different. Physically, he almost resembled Tiber, which made Velvet give a double take when he was reaped years ago. And he certainly didn't have a choice when he betrayed his allies. Velvet reminded herself. Just because he had done that in his own games, she didn't see that as a reason to distrust Jericho. Maybe an outsider would've thought that of foolish, but she helped him survive his own games, and surely an honorable man wouldn't betray that.

"You're a strong fighter, Jericho." Velvet smiled, "I'd rather have you as an ally rather than an enemy." She crossed the commons car so she wasn't standing in the middle of the doorway sat in a lush blue velvet chair. It brought a smile to the girl's face as she ran her fingers up and down the fabric that was her namesake. There were a few others in the commons too, she noted. The new kid, she won last year, if Velvet's memory didn't fail her, and some guy from the lower districts. Neither seemed very worth Velvet's time, so she kept her focus on her district partner.

The train started back up again, and Velvet couldn't help but note how stupid their route was. District one was the closest to the Capitol, maybe an hour away from the outskirts of the marvelous city, but to pick up all the other tributes from four and seven would take up the majority of the day. Perhaps it was for the best though, more of a wait until they faced their doom. However, behind all of the fear Velvet was a little excited. After the games she had continued her rigorous training schedule, it had become such a part of her life that she couldn't just stop, and now she gets to use her skills once more. That's sick! Velvet thought, but then a thought came to mind: No. It's survival.