60th Reaping [D11]

.:.:.:.:.:.:.
no i don't want to battle from beginning to end
i don't want to cycle or recycle revenge
i don't want to follow death and all his friends
.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Kiara Mason's sixteenth birthday had been the night before the Reaping. It was a quiet affair, especially in light of the more important holiday the following day; they hadn't had much food to spare lately, so all they'd eaten was some sort of beef stew. A loaf of bread had served as a makeshift birthday cake. Her parents had attempted to sing Happy Birthday on their own, but cut themselves off at a devilish glare from their now sixteen-year-old daughter. She didn't like to hear the sound of Happy Birthday being sung, because none could compare to the final one Colton had been around to sing, just nights before he had been sent off to his death.

It had been seven years since Colton's Games - the 53rd - though, and though Kiara did miss him horribly at times, she'd long since decided to quit brooding. That hadn't made the situation with her parents any easier, though - since his death, she'd found that being around them was horribly awkward. It had been easier when she was still a happy-go-lucky little kid, but having to cope with watching her brother die on live television hadn't really been conducive to a long, happy childhood. As soon as she'd become old enough to fend for herself, she would sneak away through the orchards of Eleven, all the way out to where the real woods started, and spend all her time there. Depending on how she was feeling, sometimes she would spend days on end alone in the forest. It soothed her, the solitude; she didn't like company. And she was pretty sure company didn't like her, either.

"Goodnight, Kiara! Happy birthday!" Her mother's voice carried up the stairs as Kiara ascended them to the loft where she slept. The words sounded pleading, as if she were begging her daughter to respond civilly, for once, or even kindly. Fuck you. She didn't shout the profanities running through her head aloud, though - instead she simply ignored her kin and flopped down onto her straw mattress, lying awake for the majority of the night as she tried unsuccessfully to drift off to sleep.

Morning dawned. Reaping morning. Kiara wasn't awake for it, though - she slept until noon, which was unfortunate because the Reaping was at twelve-thirty. The pixie-like teen awoke to her mother's voice in the stairwell, imploring her to Get up, please, Kiara in a voice of forced calmness. Finally the girl rose as her mother announced that, "We're heading to the square now; you meet us there when you're ready to get up." Of course, she could always sleep through the Reaping - no one would notice if she wasn't there, after all. District Eleven's child population was far too vast. But she had no desire to; for some reason, Kiara Mason got sick pleasure out of watching two new lambs for the slaughter be chosen from the young Eleveners to be sent off to die, just as Colton had.

Scornful stares followed her as she made her way into the mob of people clustered in District Eleven's extremely run-down square; she hadn't bothered to dress appropriately, instead choosing to wear her usual torn up work jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. Apparently this offended the people of her district who did their very best to be presentable on this oh-so-important day; well, screw them. She would wear what she wanted. And if it weren't punishable by death, she probably would have come with her knife in her boot as it usually was, too.

The escort was different from the one that had been assigned Colton's year; this one's name was Tasmain, which Kiara thought was an extremely appropriate name, considering he did have a snoutlike face resembling that of a Tasmanian devil. He and mayor Demeter read off the usual bullshit regarding rules and history and everything she could care less about; the only part that did interest her somewhat was the recap of the dark days. It brought back memories of escaping to the smoldering ruins of District Thirteen to be part of a secret rebel group, but returning when she realized it wasn't quite up her alley. Not very much was up her alley these days; she had a tendency to despise everything, which was a much more effective way of living than - "Kiara Mason!"

Oh, shit.

The sun was already up when Fletcher woke up. Reaping day is one of the only days in District eleven when you can wake up after dawn and not be punished for it.]Oh dont worry, we'll get the district get a day off, we'll just take your children away from you and prepare them to die. Might as well sleep in While you can After getting out of bed and changing clothes, Fletcher made his way across the house into the kitchen.

Like most families in District 11, Fletcher lived in a one story, three room shack in the middle of the farmlands. The biggest room was for cooking, eating, and socializing. The Smaller two were bedrooms for the family. It's not much, but Fletcher's family seems to struggle through more sucsessfuly than most people living in the same living conditions. As Fletcher walked into the kitchen, he noticed his entire family was already getting ready for the reaping. Fletcher's two younger siblings, Tania and Danny were already in their dress clothes, which were actually old hand-me downs from generation to generation.

This year it was going to be the twins' first reaping this year. With their name being in only once, the odds are most certainly in Tania's and Danny's Favor. However, Fletcher has his name in nine times. One because he had to, and the other for tessare. The thought of fighting to the death for glory didnt really help him cheer up either. Fletcher sighed, he really didnt want to go to the reaping. But it's either that, or face the death penalty.

The district square was quite busy when Fletcher walked in. Pausing for a moment, Fletcher came to notice the familiar enviornment of the reaping area. There in front was the temporary stage. Sourronding the square were adults, worried about their children or betting on who will get picked. Patrolling the arena were peacekeepers, followed by countless cameras. Making sure they wouldn't miss a single shot. Finding his peers, Fletcher weaved in way into the crowd. Familiar gestres were shared. However, evreyone was silent, waiting in anxiety.

At two o'clock shark, the mayor arrived with her same, usual gesture. She went on telling the story of how the hunger games was created. Fletcher droned off, not really paying attention to her speech. Finally after what seemed like forever, the reaping began. The girls name was called from the reaping bowl. He saw her go up onto the stage. Fletcher didn't know her that well, but her face looked somewhat familiar from school.

Then, the boys name was ready to be called, Fletcher began to sink a little lower. ]Please not me... not me... not me... It wasn't him, murmurs came from the crowd as the boy came forward. Fletcher sighed and relaxed. Knowing he survived another year.