61st Reaping [D5]

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Lulu
Retired Staff

[M:2982250]

3,114 POSTS
last seen Nov 24, 2023 13:45:22 GMT -5

61st Reaping [D5] May 18, 2012 23:09:31 GMT -5

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Post by Lulu on May 18, 2012 23:09:31 GMT -5

The escort of the district stepped out onto the stage, a smile plastered across his face as he stared into the cameras that surrounded it. It was time once again to choose two children to compete in the Hunger Games, and it was his job to do so.

"It is time," he said as he stood over the impatient people of the District, "To once again send two of our own children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games. Let us begin the Reaping!"

He did not look to see the reaction of his district before reaching into the glass ball that held the names of the female children. "Ladies first," he announced, pulling out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and read out to the crowd, "Eternity Lordthorn!"

[/color] He then reached into the other ball. "Haff Ferde!"

OOC- RPing is allowed. If you wish to volunteer, let the tribute post first either accepting or stepping down from their place for volunteers, and then post. If the tribute doesn't reply by Tuesday, May 22nd, a staff member will post saying that volunteering is open. Please do not post until you see this staff message. FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE.

Tributes, please do not make your acceptance or denial of your spot in character; instead, please leave an ooc note at the end of your post stating whether they accept or are stepping down for volunteers.

Also, and this is really important: If you have been selected as a tribute and plan on going into the arena, we HIGHLY SUGGEST you take some RP Tutoring lessons ASAP. It doesn't matter what level RPer you are; everyone can use a little help. RPing a tribute is a PRIVILEGE; if you're not going to put the time and effort into making your posts the best they can be then you can count yourself among the dead...-evil laugh- It's not a requirement, but please please please just consider the lessons. They'll help even the most advanced RPer. [/blockquote][/size][/justify]

Last Edit: May 18, 2012 23:38:11 GMT -5 by admin kay

{lulu's cast}

Onyx
Capitol Resident

1,169 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Jan 3, 2023 15:20:14 GMT -5

in between somewhere and nowhere

61st Reaping [D5] May 19, 2012 10:26:10 GMT -5

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Post by Onyx on May 19, 2012 10:26:10 GMT -5

~~A quick colour scheme change to make Eternity more readable >.>~~

Doing | Thinking | Consciencing | Hearing | Speaking

If it weren’t for the stench of the vomit that is meandering down this twelve year old’s shirt, I’d pretend I was in a dream like I have every other Reaping. All the children in the square are united, in this one experience, by the deep desire not to be here. I can easily see over the girls’ heads, and the oversparkled and bored-looking escort on the stage is directly in my line of sight. The way he looks off into space, avoiding the weeping mothers, stony faced fathers and screaming babies of the congregation, betrays his dislike for the Reaping. He wants to be here as much as we do,

[/i] I think, feeling a surge of love for these strangers in the queue who are standing strong, avoiding considering the chance that their date of death could be read out, today. Siblings clasp hands, the elders wiping runny noses and wet eyes of the youngers. You can tell the ones who have taken the burden of tesserae, increasing their own risk in order to feed their family. They look like empty shells, blocking out all emotions to stop from losing faith in the middle of the crowd. Mothers straighten their ties, pick oose off their collar, desperate for one more second with their loved ones, who could so quickly be snatched from them by the cruel hands of the Capitol.

It’s sick. Everything about Panem is sick. The Games have featured in my nightmares since I was very little, and watched Clement’s chances of being Reaped grow with each year, and each parcel of food which he brought home. Perhaps that’s why Mother died. Perhaps she couldn’t handle being alive while her son wasn’t. Perhaps that’s why father wouldn’t let me get any tesserae. So why are you so afraid, pathetic girl? It’s true, my chances of being in the Games are slim. My name is in there seven times only, and I should be grateful. I can almost see them, seven red envelopes among all the glossy white innocence of the glass bowl.

I grimace as the little child throws up again, but several boys in the queue next to me are too distracted by my height to notice as it ricochets from the dust onto their shoes. Let’s hope they don’t have to walk to the stage On every other day, I would hate the glazed stares and gaping gasps around me, but the Reaping brings out the rebel in me. A smile flickers over my lips as I shuffle forwards, every step bringing me closer to the fears I am trying to suppress. The cinched black dress I wear was my mother’s, worn in mourning for her sister when she was my age now. Today I am mourning, too. Yes, to me, the Reaping is a day of remembrance for the fallen tributes, and for my family. Mother, Bethlehem… let them all be remembered today. If the worst happens and I am reaped, I’ll be sure to let them know I care.

Oh shut up, Eternity, stupid girl. You pretend you don’t like the attention but you love it. No. Stop it. There’s no way I can suppress these thoughts, and a place with so many people makes them extra vicious. You play the hero, but you wish you could get out of here. Face that you are weak.

I tense, bracing myself against these thoughts, determined not to be crippled by them today. We shuffle, herded animals pressed into eachother’s sticky bodies and eachother’s dark fears, into the barred off area, and out of the sight of anxious relatives. I am careful not to place the heels of my shoes on other children’s feet. I am conspicuous enough as it is, without being known to hurt children when I return after the Reaping.

When you return?

The escort’s voice cuts through the murmurs and sobbing like a guillotine blade. Loud and deep, with the heavy accent of the Capitol. His suit glitters slightly, but creases awkwardly as he rests his weight on one hip, evidently just doing his duty rather than what he loves. It is time, to once again send two of our children to the Capitol to compete in the Hunger Games! Not really a competition. District Five’s victors are scarce, the Village almost a ghost town.

Let us begin the Reaping![/color]

And suddenly, the weight of what my seven red envelopes means comes thundering down on me like a mountain. Death laughs at me from the bowl. Death beckons me seven times from the glass bulb where my name rests seven times. Everyone around me is oblivious to the erosion of my confidence as they listen eagerly to the escort, who has just said ladies first…

Pull yourself together, Eternity. Buzzing fills my ears as I watch the escort’s lips mouth the female tribute’s name. Totally unaware of what it is, I focus on shaking my head to stop it pounding. Everything is going dark, and the world is spinning. Is this what real fear feels like?

Everyone is looking at me.

Oh God.

Oh fuck

He said my name. He said my name and death has taken me.[/i]

My feet carry my reluctant mind shakily to the walkway, and I am only partially aware that a boy is moving the same way. I try to find faces I recognise, I see my father, his ashen features making bile bubble up in my throat. He is going to kill himself without me. I try to search for Almos, for my only true friend, but I cannot see him. Oh Almos, how can I tell you everything will be alright? Will you remember me for much longer? The murmurs of the crowd are knells in my brain, only adding to the cacophony that is already there.

The only voice that is silent is my little conscience.

And without it, I feel more alone than I ever have before.

~~Eternity accepts her place as tribute. She moves up to the stage, not recognizing Haff, shakes his hand and is all the time very aware that if this boy doesn’t kill her, someone else will.~~[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

Last Edit: May 19, 2012 10:35:46 GMT -5 by Onyx

someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

cass
Retired Staff

4,822 POSTS

last seen Oct 24, 2021 18:11:43 GMT -5

61st Reaping [D5] May 20, 2012 1:34:36 GMT -5

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Post by cass on May 20, 2012 1:34:36 GMT -5

All alone
It was always there you see
And even on my own
It was always standing next to me
I can see it coming from the edge of the room

The sun rose above the horizon has it did every day, but like every day the rays of light that raced across the sky was different. Streaks of oranges, gold’s and pinks mixed together, and stretched their long fingers higher and higher into the sky, warm rays spread through the deepest and darkest parts, brining light to even the coldest of places; making even the harshest of places bearable. White clouds rose from Haff’s lips as he breathed out the air of the morning. As always he was heading to the barn, to the place where his only respite was.

Haff loved the mornings, it was a time in which the day could start fresh and new, and he could hold onto the hope that he felt. He could hold into his wish that he wouldn’t sink into the craziness that took his body, because every morning Haff would wake up like him, like the boy that held so much for the life around him, like the boy that cherished each flower the bloomed, and each leaf on a tree. Then slowly as the day wears on he would sink into a false picture of himself. Into a boy that knew nothing, and yet was so smart, but he could never show it.

None of them ever saw it. None of them ever saw the boy when he was normal. They never knew. They were never given the opportunity to see him as he was. He always hide it. He wouldn’t let them see him as anything other than the mute animal that took care of the horses. He didn’t want them to see, or feel as he did. Haff couldn’t give them the hope that he felt. It was his; he needed to hold onto all of his hope. Even though he knew he would always drown in his old ways he had to have hope, otherwise what was the point of living? So he never told them. He knew that they would tell him what he already knew. Haff knew he would always be different, but in the morning it was his time, and it was the time in which he felt the most happiest. He couldn’t throw it away.

The barn door creaked open as he stepped onto the well warn floor. It was warm in side, and everything was just as it always was. Normal. Familiar. This was where he belonged and it was where he loved to be the most. Haff didn’t ride horses, but the boy loved them so much. To him he loved them more than anyone in his family did. He was the one who cleaned the stalls, tended the horses and cared for them. He patted and groomed them; he was there aid, as they were his. The horses helped him, to Haff they were like each other, they had no way to communicate to tell others how they felt, all they had was themselves. Haff understood them and in a way they understood him. It was why he felt so free, whenever he was with them.

Normally Haff would spend the whole day in the barn, caring and maintaining the place in which the horses lived, but he could not do this today, because of the reaping. The reaping never scared Haff, part of him never believed that he would get picked, and if he ever got picked he knew he held no chance, yes the boy was strong, and smart but he wasn’t like all of them, he wasn’t a career, he was a mentally impaired boy that knew how horses worked, he didn’t understand humans. He had accepted the fact that he had no chance. He seeked comfort in the idea of dying easily. But he knew he would fight, because instinct would tell him to. Haff shrugged dropping the subject from mind. He had horses to tend to.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was time. Time for the reaping as it was every year. There was nothing different about this year. Haff got dressed in the same old tattered clothes, he ate with his family, but ignored them as usual, and finally all together they walked down to the district square. As always Haff ached to be back with his horses, to be back with the animals that bring him comfort. The boy hated being surrounded by people he didn’t know. He felt as if they were all looking at him and watching and staring, glaring and evil eyeing him. Haff hated people. They were so unlike the tall magnificent beasts that he spent the day with. Humans had no co-ordination, grace or elegance whilst horses where so much more. They were special and so much better than humans.

Haff believes in hope, he has always followed his heart and stayed true to it, he has always believed that one day all the good that he has done will be paid for in a way that will allow him to be who he should be and who he is not. Today was no different, the hope was still wound up in his chest, and it was fighting to escape, but it could never get past its cage. It was always stuck. Today was no different. As always Haff stood there he stared, he listened, but none of it ever sank in, all he thought about was his horses, the things he had to do. The reaping was just a waste of time, time in which he could be doing work in the light of the day, rather than in the cold of the night.

It was as if a hush had fallen over the whole crowd, they were all expecting the names. The mayor had finished speaking now. So everyone stoodd and watched, listening and waiting for the two kids to be called out. Haff stood still his hands playing with a small wooden horse in his hands. The boy haad a nack for carving out small things from bits of wood. He had only made this one two days ago. But now it fell from his grasp hitting the dusty ground below. His eyes watched it fall.

”Haff Ferde.”

Huh.

Oh.

What about the horses?