|
Post by Ellie on Jan 4, 2012 19:08:54 GMT -5
Sorry guys, I just can't find the time to continue this with my new job. The Fandom's forums are blocked from all my work computers so I can't log on as much as I used to be able to. If anybody wants to steal this idea for their own, feel free. Sorry to everybody! Table of Contents- Post 1 . . . . . . . . . . Tributes and Tesserae with Ellie Obsidian
- Post 2 . . . . . . . . . . Current Events with Marius Flickerman
- Post 3 . . . . . . . . . . FAQ
- Post 4 . . . . . . . . . . Reaping Ceremony Archive
- Post 5 . . . . . . . . . . Training Scores and Interviews Archive
- Post 6 . . . . . . . . . . Hunger Games Archive
Welcome! Welcome!The time has come to select one courageous man and woman for the honor of representing your District in the 26th Annual Hunger Games! My name is Ellie Obsidian, official spokeswoman for the 26th Annual Hunger Games. It's a pleasure to meet you all and I hope you'll enjoy these Games as much as I! On to business. With the Games just around the bend, Reapings will begin at each District soon. As you know, one man and one woman ages 12 to 18 will be chosen to participate in the most anticipated event of Panem! The Hunger Games!
The following chart shows the names and Districts of each Tribute chosen to participate! In our News Post with Marius Flickerman, you'll be recapped on what exactly when down during their specific Reaping ceremony! This will also be the location where you can watch the Training Scores, Interviews, and Hunger Games live!
Here is our current chart of Tributes:District 1 |
Posh (Age 17) | Dash (Age 14) | District 2 | Mara (Age 13) | Phin (Age 14) | District 3 | Nora (Age 15) | Geoffrey (Age 18) | District 4 | Chrissy (Age 15) | Maddox (Age 13) | District 5 | Emma (Age 13) | Ben (Age 14) | District 6 | Lorna (Age 12) | Reagan (Age 17) | District 7 | Aenie (Age 17) | Anthony (Age 18) | District 8 | Naomi (Age 16) | Charles (Age 18) | District 9 | Vera (Age 16) | Ron (Age 13) | District 10 | Emily (Age 13) | Robert (Age 12) | District 11 | Denim (Age 16) | N/A | District 12 | Ida (Age 14) | N/A |
Pretty empty isn't it? Then why don't you go and volunteer yourself or some children that you think would fair well in the Hunger Games? It's easy! Just fill out this form as many times as you'd like with as many names as you'd like! Once all the Districts have been filled, we can move on to the fun bits!
Don't be shy! Send me as many as you'd like! [/color] Name: Age: [Between 12-18] Gender: District: Personality: Appearance: Create A Tribute Here!History: Family: Friends: Reaped or Volunteer? Reaction to reaping/Why They Volunteer: Opinion of Games and Capitol: Token: Strengths: [4 Max. Weapon skills count] Weaknesses: [2 Min. Weapons and fears don't count. Examples would be Physical or Emotional, like bad climber or stresses out easily] Fears: Weapon of Choice: Allies? Romance? Strategy: Preferred Death: May the Odds be Ever in your Favor! [/font]
|
|
|
Post by Ellie on Jan 4, 2012 19:09:16 GMT -5
Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Marius Flickerman, your second spokesperson and main narrator of the 26th Annual Hunger Games! I'm your number one source for interviews, recaps, and gossip on the town for the duration of these Games! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! I know I certainly will!
The Reaping Ceremony
"It'll be okay mom," Emma cooed to her mother as she pulled the blankets up over the older woman's legs. The woman, who's hair was auburn and wiry and eyes weighed down by black rings, couldn't even force a smile towards her daughter. She was obviously ill, her face pale as paper and hidden behind her hands as she violently began to cough. But Emma just continued to fluff the woman's pillows.
"Once the Reaping's over, I'll come back and get dinner prepared, okay?"
"Emma," the woman croaked as she reached forward, grasping her thirteen year old daughter's hands. Water began to fill in her eyes. "Emma, don't lie to me."
But Emma forced a smile and hugged her mother. While she kept a good front, internally, she was screaming with fright. She knew what was going to happen and knew this was most likely the last time she would hug her mother.
"Come on, Beth. Stop being so stubborn," the fourteen year old called out as he forced the nine year old's shirt over her head. "You need to be good."
"I wanna play big brother!" Beth whined as she struggled against the clothes. However, ultimately, Ben was successful and forced the shirt down.
"We can't right now, Beth. There's a ceremony and Dex and Claire are waiting for us."
"Waitin' for you. Why can't I stand with you in the crowd?"
"You're not old enough, Beth. And trust me, you don't want to be. Now let's say goodbye to mommy before we go."
The little girl pouted but didn't protest any further. Instead, she spun on her heel and dashed towards their mother's bedroom, which was rather far in their large home. They were well off, living in a two story house with no problem attaining food or necessities. But that was probably the only perk to living in Victor's Village.
Ben walking briskly behind her. The little girl slammed open the bedroom door, light seeping in to the otherwise dark and dismal room. "Mommy!" Beth called out with a smile. "We're going to da plasma now!"
"Plaza, Beth," Ben corrected as he cautiously stepped into the room and put a hand on the little girl's head. He lifted his eyes up towards the woman as she sat, curled on her side and hidden completely by blankets. He couldn't help but sigh. She's always like this around the times of the Reaping Ceremony, Ben thought to himself as he could faintly hear his mother's strangled sobs. The boy lowered his head as he tugged at his sister a little. "Come on, Beth. We can't be late."
Justinian Brass stood, front and center on the large stage behind a podium that had only been dragged out for these Reaping Ceremonies. His hair had been poofed all on the top of his head in a bundle of pure white curls to match his entirely white suit. Even his eyelashes, lips, and eyelids had been painted white with blue shimmer dust powdering his cheeks, slightly exposed chest, and backs of his hands. If he had been strung up by a crane and into the skies, he easily would have blended in with the clouds.
But in contrast with his airy appearance, Justinian was cold. He spoke little words as he ventured towards the bowl of girl names. "Volunteers?" he asked sternly into the microphone, almost daring.
Of course there would be none, Emma sighed, a sense of dread taking over her. She might as well have volunteered. Maybe it would make her look braver. Maybe it would make it seem as though her death would have been a strong one. But there was a small gleam of hope. Maybe I won't get called.
"Emma!" Justinian's voice boomed and all hope in the young girl was lost.
No. No, of course fate wouldn't let me go. Of course I'd be punished for wanting to save my family. Emma silently followed the Peacekeepers to the stage, though her head was dropped as she walked. She knew this would happen. It happened last year. But, unlike last year, Emma didn't have a big sister to volunteer for her anymore.
Justinian didn't even announce his actions as he walked over to the male bowl. His eyes scanned the crowd as he asked for volunteers, but he remained unsurprised when none rose their hands. As his fingers dipped down into the bowl of papers, Ben's eyes began to roam about the crowds among his friends.
Claire, she was safe. There was already a girl Tribute. But he and Dex? There was still that horror. Neither of them took any tasserae. Neither needed it. And, surely, someone in District 5 had. But in the chance one of their names were drawn, would the other volunteer? Could he volunteer for Dex.
No, Ben sighed, guilt causing pangs in his chest. But his eyes roamed to the back of the crowds where the families were waiting and he knew, somewhere in that mini-crowd, she was waiting for him. If I were to do that, nobody would care for Beth. I just got to not think about these -
"Ben!" Justinian's voice boomed, sending shivers down the brown haired boy's spine. His eyes grew wide and silence filled the crowd.
"There has to be some mistake."
"His mother won the Games those years back!"
"Her children aren't safe?"
The whispers didn't stop, but Ben didn't hear them. Over everything, all he could hear was Beth crying out for him and, as the Peacekeepers began to drag him on stage, all he could worry about was what would happen to her. He couldn't contemplate his own fate. He was already near certain what that fate was.
District 1 Tributes: Posh and Dash Mentor: Kerchief Escort: Emerald Chance
District 2 Tributes: Mara and Phin Mentor: Marshall Escort: Nero Thins
District 3 Tributes: Nora and Geoffrey Mentor: Cabler Escort: Copper Smithson
District 4 Tributes: Chrissy and Maddox Mentor: Mags Escort: Crystol Manners
District 5 Tributes: Emma and Ben Mentor: Joule Escort: Justinian Brass
District 6 Tributes: Lorna Mentor: Angela Escort: Titus Marks
District 7 Tributes: Aenie and Anthony Mentor: Joshua Escort: Brutus Alegra
District 8 Tributes: Naomi and Charles Mentor: Knet Escort: Hazel Stones
District 9 Tributes: Mentor: Paytor Escort: Julia Amethyst
District 10 Tributes: Emily and Robert Mentor: Kaytle Escort: Amber Toys
District 11 Tributes: Denim Mentor: Maze Escort: Trajan Dilergince
District 12 Tributes: Ida Mentor: Iris Escort: Willow Halls
|
|
|
Post by Ellie on Jan 4, 2012 19:09:34 GMT -5
F.A.Q.
So, what exactly is this?
- This is what's called a SYOT [Submit Your Own Tribute]. Basically, it's an interactive word game/story where you fill out the form, creating Tributes to participate in the Hunger Games.
Well, what do we [the audience] do now?
- You help influence the outcome! First, fill out as many forms as you'd like for as many Tributes as you'd like to sign up for tessarea. Once all the Tributes are chosen, the real fun begins!
Real fun?
- Just like in the books, your Tributes will go through interviews, training, and get a training score! Once all that is completed and we get to know our contestants better, the Hunger Games will begin and you will be able to influence the outcome of the Games.
How can we influence the Games?
- You're our Capitol audience! You get to decide what gifts to send to our Tributes, what troubles they'll face, and so forth. Options will be given at the end of each day of the Hunger Games and it'll be up to you, the audience, to decide.
Will you be doing more of these?
- Depending on the popularity. I'd like to do more, maybe even get into the Games of some of the canon characters. But for now, let's see how these Games go.
|
|
|
Post by Ellie on Jan 4, 2012 19:09:51 GMT -5
THE REAPING CEREMONY ARCHIVE “You're certain about this, Posh?” the 17 year old's mother asked as she pulled her daughter's hair up into a high ponytail. “You're still going to go through with it?”
“Weren't you embarrassed, mother?” Posh spat back but stayed perfectly still as she began to apply mascara to her eyelashes.
“Why would we be? Your brother made it all the way to the end.”
Posh closed the make-up tube before spinning around to face her mother after her black mane was perfectly positioned on the top of her head. “He could have won. But he was weak. He let some girl get the better of him. This year, I'll make sure I'm the girl who gets the better of the rest.”
His tone was both promising and sinister.
“I can not believe you, Dash,” the mayor of District 1 shouted at her son as she furiously began to scrub a dirt stain from his once perfectly crisp and clean gold trimmed pants. He didn't even bother to apologize – she wouldn't listen to him anyways and he felt he had nothing to be sorry for. Unlike most in District 1, the blonde haired, green and blue eyed boy only felt right when he was outdoors.
“It's your sister Dazzle's first reaping, you could at least try to look presentable,” she continued to scold. Giving up and leaving a large water patch on his knee, his mother rose and roughly grabbed the 14 year old boy by the wrist. As she dragged him through the house, she threw the rag down at the sink, motioned for Dazzle to follow, and stormed out the door, all the while mumbling and cursing under her breath about how late they were going to be. And how it was all Dash's fault.
As the crowd came together in the plaza, Posh left her five other siblings as she went to join the group within her age. Not that it mattered where she stood. She'd be walking up on that stage soon.
A few rows in front of her, a younger girl was standing on her toes, glancing towards the 14 year old boys of the plaza. Her eyes immediately landed on Dash as his mother headed for the stage, leaving him in the sea of children. Trying to get his attention over the masses, the girl rose her hand up and furiously began to wave.
“Shimmer,” Dash mumbled with a small smile as he waved back, his heart skipping a beat. It had a tendency to do that whenever the girl was around, but he had yet to reveal that to his close friend. Everybody else in District 1 looked down at him for his outdoors antics and comfort in nature except for Shimmer. He didn't want his feelings to be what scared her away.
“Welcome District 1,” a woman called out from the stage with bright green hair that was braided back all the way down to her knees. She had large, lime green eyelashes, white lipstick, and a beige and brown dress. Dash couldn't help but instantly like all the earthly tones on her, as ridiculous as her overall appearance was. She began her speech about the rules of the Games, it's history, and so forth, but Dash paid no attention. His eyes were stuck on Shimmer, silently praying that someone in the crowd would volunteer for the women. He wasn't worried for himself - his mother was the mayor. What were the odds that he would be picked? He sometimes wondered if his name was even in that bowl.
"Ladies first," the woman, who at some point had introduced herself as Emerald Chance, stepped over towards the bowl of girl names. "Before we begin, would any ladies out there like to volunteer?"
Please, please, please, Dash thought to himself. His worries instantly relaxed as Posh rose her hand up.
"I volunteer." It wasn't a surprise. This was a Career district. There were always volunteers. Dash had just been over-reacting. As Posh stepped onto the stage, he looked around towards all the boys in the crowd, wondering which of them would volunteer this year. There was always a volunteer. But when Emerald steped over to the boy's bowl and asked the same of them, for the first time in many years, no hands raised.
Shimmer's eyes widened as she glanced towards Dash, but the blue and green eyed boy wasn't concerned. He was wealthy. His mother was on the stage for Pete's sake. Him and Dazzle never gave much thought to the Games or it's consequences, they never had to. But as Emerald pulled out the small slip of paper and called out the District 1's first reaped Tribute in the early years and Dash saw his mother nearly choke on her own tongue and Shimmer's face turn pale as a ghost, he suddenly wished he had paid more attention to the Hunger Games.
“Come on, Phin. Let the cat go,” Gin sighed as Fred stood up from the group. “We're going to be late for your big day if you don't hurry.”
But Phin wasn't finished yet. As the cat laid on it's back hissing and trashing, the blond haired sadist turned towards his two friends with a small pout. “Just two more seconds. I haven't gotten the tape on it's hind paws on tight enough.”
But he knew it was time. All the other children were already making their way towards the Plaza. Even in the alleyway that the three friends had been in, it was hard to miss the large crowd of children their age range marching like lemmings down the streets of District 2. And, given his home's reputation, he knew he'd have to get there fast.
“Remember, raise it high and shout it loud,” Fred smiled as he offered a hand down to his friend. But Phin didn't need any advice. He took his friend's hand and rose from the ground, leaving the stray tabby as it helplessly attempted to free itself from it's bindings.
“I know, I know,” he grinned almost sheepishly as the three began to head out of the alleyway, oblivious to the fact that a pair of deep brown eyes were staring ever intently towards the blond.
So Phin's going to volunteer this year too, the brunette in the shadows thought to herself as she rose from her hiding spot behind a dumpster. How. . . unfortunate for us.
“And thus the Reapings for District 2 shall commence,” the man center stage proclaimed through his microphone. Nero Thins, a Capitol citizen and the perfect match for District 2. Despite his upbringing at the lavishing, luxurious prime location of Panem, Nero Thins had a stern look about him. His clothes were perfectly pressed, his nose was long and came to a point, and his black, beady eyes glinted with no color other than the powder blue eyeshadow resting over his eyelids. His entire attire was a blend of whites and gray, lined with fur that seemed so soft and full that it resembled snow.
I need to be fast. Mara had her hands clasped at her chest, holding in her excitement that was blended with anxiety. Not anxiety though for death, as some who considered volunteering for the Games would. But anxiety for being on stage. She had become so accustomed to keeping to the shadows and to herself, having no true friends or social interaction outside of her family. The opposite of him.
He was always with those two – Gin and Fred, as Mara had learned their names by watching from a distance. Despite his odd behaviors and secret gore fetish, he had somehow managed to make friends. Why wouldn't he though? Something about him was endearing enough for her to want to be near him, so why wouldn't others feel that way?
Stop thinking about him, she scolded herself as she forced her eyes forward, her gaze at some point having fallen on the blond sadistic Phin across the crowd. I'm not doing this for him. I'm doing this to win. I'm doing this for my brother.
“As per tradition and to save the time of choosing a name from random, I will be offering up a chance for volunteers towards our ladies of the crowd. Would any--?”
“I volunteer for Tribute of District 2!” Mara screamed out as loudly as she possibly could, interrupting Nero and gaining a rather annoyed glare from the snowy man. But she didn't care. No other woman was going to steal this from her before she could.
But she had to remedy her outburst. As the cameras fell to her and her face appeared on the screen, the brunette gave a soft smile and began to make her way towards the stage. She walked with grace, her eyes forward towards Nero Thins, stopping only when she had reached the front of the crowd. “I'm sorry, sir,” she began formally in the most charming manner one at age 13 could muster. His glare disappeared at her respectable apology.
“Your name, darling?” he offered as she stepped at his side, holding the microphone before her.
“Mara.”
“Well, Mara. Congratulations and welcome,” he nodded before looking back towards the crowd. “We have our District 2 Tribute. And now, I offer the same towards our men. Will any among you follow in her footsteps as Tribute?”
Phin's hand flew up as quickly as he could, but another hand rose three rows behind him. An older boy in Fred's section. The two had volunteered at the same time.
“My, my. Two at the same time?” Nero mused as he waved for the two to come center stage. As Phin walked, his eyes shot towards Fred. The boy that had volunteered with him was on the opposite end of the line than his friend. Internally, Phin cursed. Fred knew Phin wanted to do this and knew that, if the boy was standing beside his friend, Fred would have broken the boy's arm for him.
“A rarity, but we do have a procedure for this,” Nero announced as the boys were brought before him. The escort handed them both three blank pieces of paper. “Write your name on all three pages. Then, we will place them in an empty Reaping bowl and Mara here will pull out the page with the name of our male Tribute.”
Mara's heart was beginning to race at being so close to the blond, but at the mention of her name, her gaze shot up to Nero. Immediately, she knew Phin's fate was in her hands, literally. As the boys began to scribble on the pages, she tried to memorize the way they folded and writing. She couldn't let Phin be chosen. But when they dropped their papers in, Nero ran his hands inside, scattering the pieces about. She couldn't tell who's was who's.
With a small sigh, Mara ran her fingers along the bowl and dragged out the selection to the fulliest of it's dramatic potential. When she finally pulled the page out, Nero smiled. “Trying to take my job and make it more entertaining are you?”
“I'd never dream of it, Mr. Thins,” she smiled before unfolding the page. It took all her might to hold in the disappointed look on her face and keep her smile. I suppose we'll be like Romeo and Juliet then.
Loudly, over the microphone so all could hear, she announced the Tribute. And as Phin heard his name called, he said nothing. He only smiled. “Nora? Panem to Nora, do you copy?” Gretchen joked with her dark haired friend, who was staring off into the distance and beginning to fall behind in the crowd. Snapping back to reality, the fifteen year old turned her brilliant green eyes up towards her friends.
“Sorry, thinking.”
“We know. You do that a lot,” Nora's other friend, Willa, smiled at her other side. “What's it about this time?”
“Our odds,” she replied simply with no further explanation. But that was typical of Nora, being silent and a little withdrawn. Willa and Gretchen had gotten so accustomed to this that they had developed a knack for deciphering her one to four word answers.
“We'll be fine,” Gretchen smiled as she patted her friend on the back. But Nora wasn't convinced.
We've all been well off financially speaking, she began to mentally analyze the situation. None of us ever had to take tesserae, but then again, this is District 3. We're not careers, but we're the best off out of the non-Career Districts. So that means many of the others never took tesserae either. The amount of luck and chance put into those bowls are-.
Her thoughts were immediately interrupted as she hit into someone, having not been paying attention to the area in front of her. Stumbling back, she looked up towards the boy she had bumped.
He's tall, was the first thought to pop into Nora's mind as eighteen year old Geoffrey stood before her. His eyes were hidden behind goggle-like glasses, the reflection of the sun blocking their color. Blond waving locks covered much of the outline of his face.
His head tilted down towards her, the light vanishing from the glass over his eyes as he stared with chilling blue eyes. At first, both were silent, but the awkward scenario was quickly pushed aside by Geoffrey. “Generally, people apologize in this type of situation.”
His tone came off more cold than he had intended.
“Sorry,” Nora said with haste, her shy tone evident and causing Geoffrey to slightly regret saying anything. He wasn't actually as rude as he came off to be, but his voice always seemed to betray his true intentions and feelings. So this time, he decided to abandon speech all together and just continued his travels towards the central plaza of District 3.
“What a jerk,” Willa mumbled. But Nora wasn't so sure.
He was very young for an escort, but seemed well held together. Copper Smithson stood center stage between the two Reaping bowls in a dazzling suit of blue and white. Atop his head was what almost looked to be a wedding veil with blues and whites dyed about it, resembling the waves of the ocean. Poofs of cotton and material rested on his shoulders, hips, and tops of his shoes as well, resembling foam.
Geoffrey thought it looked ridiculous. And, if he had spoken this out, Nora would have agreed.
“And thus we can finally begin this Reaping Ceremony,” Copper sighed almost with relief in the microphone, as if he disliked being there. However, unlike many of the other escorts, Copper turned towards the male bowl first. “Let's see if we can make this interesting. Would anybody like to volunteer before I have to reach in?”
At first, there was silence. As Nora noted before, this was District 3. It wasn't for Careers. On occasion, some would volunteer, but it was rare. They weren't trained like 1, 2, and 4. It would be foolish. Nonetheless, Geoffrey's hand rose high into the air and his family of five, who stood in the background, all gazed with disbelief.
“What is he doing?” one Geoffrey's three sisters, Cara, turned to their mother. “Why would he volunteer?! Geoffrey hates fighting!”
“We can't let him!” another sister, Laura, cried out.
But the last and eldest sister, Maude, looked to the other two. “We're too old to volunteer in his place, girls. And it would have to be a male to volunteer anyways.”
“But Maude-!” Cara began but Maude interrupted.
“He chose this. He wasn't Reaped.”
The girls all sighed with defeat and looked with dread as Geoffrey walked center stage beside Copper. Neither seemed very interested with the other, however, and Copper dragged himself towards the female reaping bowl. Again, he offered the chance for volunteers and, this time, no hands were raised.
There are roughly six hundred girls at the age of Reaping and no telling how many took tessarae. The odds of me being chosen are one in six hundred at the very least. The odds are favorable. They won't chose me.
Copper didn't call out Nora's name. He call out something worse. “And our female Tribute is Gretchen Masters!”
Nora's head immediately shot towards her friend. Gretchen's face was pale and she was already beginning to hyperventilate. Gretchen was going. Gretchen was going to be a Tribute for the Hunger Games.
She'll be fine, Nora began to tell herself, but she didn't believe it. [/i]Gretchen's smart. She's smarter than Willa. She's. . . No, I'm smarter. Gretchen's kind and let's that cloud her judgment at times. She's smart, but she's not clever. She can't read people like I can. She won't survive like I. . . .[/i] “I volunteer!” Nora shouted just as the Peacekeepers were leading Gretchen to the stairs of the stage. Gretchen's eyes widened as she turned back towards her friend, but Nora's gaze was locked with Copper and Geoffrey's. I can survive. It's purely logical.Chrissy's head was bent down, her hair soaking in her bathroom sink as a knock echoed from her bedroom door outside. The colorful girl didn't even need to look out to know who was there. Her adopted parents didn't care enough to make sure she would be on time for the Reaping. “I'm almost done you two,” the girl called out before pulling her head up and beginning to dry the freshly dyed pink streaks at her bangs. She knew her “family” wouldn't approve of the shocking hue, but frankly, she didn't care. It was her choice. Snatching a comb from her vanity mirror on her way, she ran it through her hair a few times before opening the door. Just as predicted, Chrissy's best friends – Felicia and Rye – were standing in her hallway, waiting. “You're hair is still wet,” Rye pointed out, grabbing a pink lock. “We're going to be late you know.” “Oh, like we have to even show up,” Chrissy huffed, running the plastic comb through her hair over and over again, emitting a small hiss every time she hit a knot. “This is District 4 we're talking about. Someone's bound to volunteer.” “You think so?” Felicia scoffed as she crossed her arms, impatiently. “After what happened to last year's victor?” Chrissy winced as she pulled the last knot from her head, but the thought was also unsettling. The Quarter Quell, last year's Games. The Victor of that had come from District 4 but when he returned, he was a mess. He couldn't get the games out of his mind and even went as far as attacking others their age in the streets. Felicia had almost been one of those attacked. “That's what happens when your entire District votes you in I suppose. Thankfully the Capitol managed to get him out of here and hopefully he's as good as gone now,” Felicia huffed, obviously harboring bad feelings for the past victor. But Chrissy ignored her. It was the Capitol's fault to begin with that he had ended up so unstable. “Let's just go.”
“Maddox getting mad yet?” a fourteen year old smirked down at the sea green haired boy. The fourteen year old was tall for his age and plump too, having two other boys around the same age and weight accompanying at his sides. The leader of the pack had his foot pressed down on the back of Maddox's head, forcing his face into the dirt. Maddox couldn't talk. He could hardly breath, to be perfectly honest. Hot tears began to stream down his face as the hoots and laughter of the boys over him grew louder and louder, haunting him. But a sudden horn blaring in the distance caused the three to stop their torture and the leader to lift his foot. “We need to head to the plaza now,” the one on the leader's right side sighed as the other two nodded in agreement. “But we'll be back to play some more once it's over,” the third snickered at Maddox, kicking the small boy in the side roughly. Maddox yelped, which only made his attackers laugh again as they began towards the stage. At first, Maddox didn't move. He rolled to his side, catching his breath from the kick and trying to regain himself. He was used to this. It was like a daily routine for him. But it didn't make it any easier for him to get up from. But Maddox managed, using his scrawny arms to push himself to a stand. Pulling his beige hood up, he walked silently for the plaza, wiping dirt away from his brows as his feet dragged. "Welcome all future potentials to the Reaping Ceremonies of the 26th Annual Hunger Games!" Crystol Manners called out into her microphone, as if she was announcing a wrestling match. Her yellow dyed skin blended in tone with the long, flowing gold hair she had trailing down her back to her waist. But her attire was, well, questionable at best. She wore a suit jacket that was open and nothing but a bra underneath to hide herself. That and sand. Tons and tons of sand coated her exposed stomach and covered the bra cups themselves. In fact, sand had been riddled all throughout her hair, on her eyelashes, and even her over-sized belt that rested on her mini-skirt appeared to be coated in it. She was a walking desert. Regardless of Crystol's tone, Chrissy found the woman's speech particularly boring. At this point, the hot sun over District 4 had dried her hair for her, though now she stood among the crowd, trying her best to make the locks less frizzy. In her own little world, she nearly missed hearing Crystol Manners announce the Reaping's start and walk to the woman's bowl. "As per tradition, I am to ask if we will have any volunteers this year. Now, please, shout your name loud and clear as you do. There was already a bit of a situation in District 2 concerning a tie in volunteers and I know how you District 4 folk are with these Games. So, volunteers. . . NOW!" The emphasize her excitement and the time for the hands to raise, Crystol threw both her arms up, a confident grin on her lips. Her hands were the only ones in the air. Almost instantly, Chrissy's eyes fell back towards Rye and Felicia. The two looked just as shocked as her. But Crystol seemed the most surprised. "Oh," she finally said, her arms dropping. "So we want there to be a little bit of mystery this year, do we? Alright, then ladies first." Not missing a beat, Crystol stepped over to the bowl of female names. Quickly, she pulled out the first name on the top of the pile before turning back towards the expecting crowd. To draw out the drama, she unraveled the page as slowly as she could before finally calling out into the microphone. "Our first female Tribute shall be. . . . Chrissy!" Felicia and Rye turned stone faced, but Chrissy suppressed her fear and shock. Not having a volunteer from District 4 was unheard of in these days. Usually they were strong looking, tough girls carrying nets and tridents or other fishing equipment to symbolize their home. So when the make-up covered, pink haired, almost Capitol-looking girl stepped on to the stage, she was certain there were whispers. Let them whisper, she tried to comfort herself and keep her cool exterior as she took her place beside Crystol. "Now then, I will extend the same offer to the boys. Volunteers?" she asked, much more cautiously. Which was wise, since no male hands rose either. Crystol let a soft sigh escape her mouth as she withdrew a name from the male bowl. "Then our male Tribute shall be. . . . Maddox!" The crowd was dead silent for only a moment until the silence was abruptly broken by sobs. All eyes turned towards the small, dirty, and beaten boy as his head began to shake. "No! No!" he began to cry before turning fully around and pushing through the crowd. He couldn't go. He would die in there, he knew it. Maddox didn't want to die. Just as he pushed out of the crowd towards the back of the plaza, a group of Peacekeepers snatched him up. He kicked. He screamed. He cried all the while until he was planted on the stage. When he eyes cleared slightly through the tears, he could see the stage was lined up of Peacekeepers to keep guard of him. There was no escape now. [/size]
|
|