Age Fourteen | District 12's Female Tribute
She'd been awoken in the morning, in District 12. There small, poor house that they call home. She had her mother, helping her brush her beautiful, vivid red hair back in a neat ponytail. She smiled at her, and said quietly to her. "You look beautiful." Rose would do a faint smile back. They weren't very talkative on the reaping day, nor happy. Rose would be wearing a white dress, tucked in neatly. A necklace chain hangs around her neck, it's standout charm of a purple butterfly on a silver star. Once her hair has been made up neatly, she stands from the wooden chair. "I think it's time to go to the square." She nods and takes a deep breath, about to walk out the front door but stopping to hug her mother tightly. She whispers in Rose's ear, "There's such a rare chance, you'll be picked. Okay?" She'd nod back to her, her mother looking in her in the eyes and saying, "Be brave, my little Rose." in her saddened voice. Time had ticked, closer to the reaping. They give one last hug, and then she left to the square. White shoes, tied nicely over her feet. Walking over pebbles and dirt, that would crunch in nature's reply. She arrived to the square, and stepped in her age line. Blinking and taking a quiet breath. She had been next, she stepped up and the woman would say demanding and plain, "Finger." She held out her hand let the woman prick her finger. "Next." She leaves the line and goes with the other girls her age, and stands. Looking out the stage, they'd wait for the announcer to arrive. After all have arrived, a capitol woman would step onto the stage. A bright, pink wig on - with a purple business like dress. She taps on the microphone and clears her throat. "Ahem." She speaks into the microphone clearly, "Hello, people of District Twelve." She smiles widely, on her white painted capitol face. "We will select one boy, and one girl to compete in this year's fifty-sixth annual hunger games." She clears her throat again and she says quietly, "But first, let's watch the previous victors on the screen - ahem?" The screen would light up, the painful red logo reading "The Hunger Games" to begin showing kids fighting and killing each other. Proceeding on to victors, afterwards it'd dim down and she'd tap on her microphone again. "Wasn't that exciting?" She smiles with her unnatural white teeth. "Now then. Let's proceed with ladies first - May the odds ever, be in your favor." She reaches over to the glass bowl on the left. Another glass bowl sits on the right, likely for the boys. She digs her hand into the bowl and then pulls out a small folded paper. She steps back to the stage and clears her throat, unfolding it and then reading the writing on the paper. "Rose Lockens."
Rose would blink, looking up to the stage with an unexpected expression. Blankly stepping out of the crowd, where peacemakers would guide her up to the stage. She walks up the stairs and goes over to the microphone, Rose would look out to the crowd with a mixture of feelings. Confusion, sadness, shyness. The woman would smile to her, then dig her hand in the bowl and call out the boy tribute's name. He'd step onto the stage and she'd call out into the microphone. "District Twelve, may we honor this year' tributes for this year's hunger games. May the odds ever be in your favor!" She'd leave the stage, and they are both taken to a waiting room.
People that know her would hug Rose goodbye, then her mother would come in with a heartbroken expression. She'd run over and hug her tight, saying to her, "I know you'll represent our district well, my lovely Rose." She smiles and looks at her, sobbing heavily with tears forming in her eyes. The door would open and say, "Time is up." They lead her out of the room, and she can't help but shout out "I'll win for us, mother! Make sure the others eat too and yourself!" The door slams shut and she can't help but squeal. All the emotions have built up on her, exploding out into these little squeals. She never wanted to be picked for the games, she doesn't want to kill other kids her age or younger - or be killed by another. Curling up on the couch, she lets out her emotions in a recurring sob until it is time to leave. Taken onto the train to the Capitol, she stares out the window and knows life can't be the same again - and that she needs to try her best for her mother and district.
