61st Reaping [D3]

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Lulu
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61st Reaping [D3] May 18, 2012 23:05:09 GMT -5

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Post by Lulu on May 18, 2012 23:05:09 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, "Mahlah Shea!"

[/color] He then reached into the other ball. "Klaus Goravich!"

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 23:37:43 GMT -5 by admin kay

{lulu's cast}

sbeeg
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61st Reaping [D3] May 19, 2012 14:11:11 GMT -5

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Post by sbeeg on May 19, 2012 14:11:11 GMT -5

Mahlah:
meaning "sick" or "weak"

The first Reaping is always the worst. You just never know what to expect so you imagine all the horrible things that could happen. Sure, no one wants to be Reaped, but no one wants to as a far from an Arena as possible more than Mahlah Shea. That morning, lying in bed looking straight up at the gray ceiling, she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying. Images flashed in her brain and vanished as quickly as they came. As fast as they were she still saw them. Severed legs from 57th Games. The terrible pink color made from blood splattered on snow in the 54th Games. She knew every minute of every Game she had ever watched. They stayed with her every second of the day- even haunting her in her sleep. She closed her eyes to ward away the images but an image of a girl covered in hack marks from an axe filled her vision. Her brain calculated it thoroughly though- Avon Lightwood, killed by Reyes Moreno Day 7 of the 60th Hunger Games.

It was a gift her mother had told her. Mahlah knew better than to believe that. She couldn't shake the sight of the blood and she quickly slipped out from between her sheets and ran into the bathroom. The blood had only been in the memory of the Games but Mahlah felt it all over her, filling her nose and coating her skin. She threw water into her face, scrubbing her skin raw until her mother walked in and forced her to stop- wrenching the towel from her skinny hands. The girl's eyes were rimmed with red and her skin was pink from her efforts at removing the "blood."

"Mahlah, honey, go get dressed," following her mother's commands, Mahlah walked back into her room, the floors cold against her bare feet. An outfit had been put together for her. It was simple compared to some of the other dresses Mahlah had seen on the television but it suit the twelve year old. A white shirt with hard plastic buttons, a pleated, navy colored skirt and a brown wool sweater. Once on her body they felt warm and comfortable and most of all protective. She slipped white socks and black shoes on before walking out with her mother leading her to the Town Square.

At the checkpoint where the Peacekeepers were taking names and putting little check marks on white paper her mother parted ways and Mahlah was ushered into the pin for twelve year old girls. It was early so only about ten girls occupied it. A few looked up at her but the rest were very interested in their shoes. Mahlah eventually found the same fascination as the morning lagged on. The fear didn't set in until the Mayor took the stage. That was when Mahlah started snapping again. They were faster then usually but she needed it. Snap. Her eyelids slid closed and she took deep breaths thinking of blackness, or nothing. Snap. The words went on and on until finally the speech was over and the snaps became quicker and three at a time. Snap. Snap. Snap. The odd looking man that was there every year stepped up again. She could hear his voice and recognized the high pitched- nasally accent he had. The man spoke a few words and Mahlah snapped her fingers three more times during his mini speech. Finally, it was time for the names to be drawn.

Show everyone how strong you are. No screaming, no fainting, no freaking out of any kind. After a two lungfuls of air Mahlah opened her eyes and looked up at the stage just in time to see the man pull the female tribute's name from the bowl.

"Mahlah Shea!"

All control vanished and the pictures slipped from the little box in Mahlah's brain where she been keeping them all this time.

Ailia Goodnight's frozen body in the snow, her golden curls forming a halo around her head.

Mel Clark's severed leg buzzing with flies on Island Six.

The look on Luyu Nimmons' face when Ember's knife slipped in to her neck.

The blade sticking out of Katie Morven's chest.

All the gashes covering Aenor Kembry's body after Razor was done with her.

Cassandra Hearsh's mad giggles before slipping into death.

The lifeless body of Seepie Dilox lying in the sand- dead before the end of the Bloodbath.

They're all dead. Mahlah's wide eyes stared up at the escort on stage. Every one who has been in this position before is dead. The girl was numb more than anything else. Too numb to scream or fight the people gently ushering her to the aisle to the stage. She couldn't even feel her fingers enough to snap. It was if she was already gone and only her ghost was there to accept the position. Strong. Remain strong. Somehow the skinny little girl ended up on the stage and the boy's name was called. Her knees were pudding but they still held her up. Mahlah wanted to scream but her throat was thick and she could not have found her lips if she tried. The freshly reaped tribute was chaotic inside, but outside she looked just like every girl before her. Dead.

I'm next. I'm the next to die.

Mahlah Shea accepts her position as tribute

clover ❁
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61st Reaping [D3] May 20, 2012 1:43:18 GMT -5

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Post by clover ❁ on May 20, 2012 1:43:18 GMT -5

KLAUS GORAVICH
[/center]

♕ DISTRICT THREE ♕

[/b]

For somebody so bright, you're awfully stupid.

[/color]

"I'M STILL ALIVE BUT I'M BEARLY BREATHING."

[/center][/b][/color]

You stare at the darkness, and it stares right back at you. And then a voice comes from somewhere you cannot see, hidden behind that darkness. It speaks to you. It speaks to your soul. The voice of the darkness is silky smooth, lighthearted and laced with a fear you almost cannot bare. You want to turn off the recording before you hear another word from the lips of the person behind the darkness, but you cannot. You have a job to do, after all. A task to complete that you promised you would do. So you drag your wondering eyes back to the darkness and make yourself listen to the words that it hurts to hear.
"Um, well, today is reaping day..." the voice begins, and you shiver, because you of course know exactly what is coming. "I've never liked reaping day - ever since I turned twelve I've waited for one of my siblings to be reaped." The voice breaks and you are not sure if the person is laughing, crying or simply pausing, for you cannot see their face. "Well, today is my siblings second last reaping. Except for Hopper - it's his last. I'm starting to think we might all make it through alive. " There is a shred of hope in the voice, but it dies almost as quickly as it came. You know the ending of the recording, but at the same time you find yourself thinking maybe. Maybe it'll be okay. Sometimes people think things because they are rational things to think. Sometimes people think things because they want them more than anything to be truth. You do not truly think, but you hope, because at this moment the tape could have any ending at all.

"I'm happy though, I swear. Because after this morning, Hopper is safe." his voice shakes, although you can hear a slight smile in his voice at the very mention of the thought. There is a love in his voice, a love so strong and filled with hope that you fight the urge to switch off the recording right there and then. Again you remind yourself why you are watching to begin with.

Light floods the screen as the lens cap of the camera falls to the floor, and a tearstained face looks into your eyes, brave and defiant and shaking. He does not speak. Perhaps he is afraid that he will burst into tears if he does so. Instead, he smiles and bites his bottom lip.

After a moment he looks at the camera, his eyes glowing a murky colour you cannot name. His mouth is set in a line so straight and fierce it is as though he thinks that if he thinks what he hopes enough times, it will be true. You can see the words spinning around his brain - it wont be Hopper. Not Hopper. Of course not. Not any of the others, either. We'll live. We'll grow old together. We will.

"I'm sorry." He speaks to the camera, to you, a look flashing across his face you cannot identify. Fear? No. Knowing? Loving? Desperation and terrible, terrible thoughts running through his mind. Perhaps."Anyway, reaping day," he looks up, presumably at a clock hung on one of the high walls of his bedroom. As always, books fill the backdrop to the shot, and although you strain your eyes you cannot find the title you are searching for. Perhaps he has it tucked up underneath his shirt, perhaps he is holding the book tightly to his skin so he doesn't forget. Perhaps. But the look in his eyes tells you that this is not so. His eyes bore into your soul, although they are not looking at you. The innocence in them soon to be marred and broken beyond repair hurts. It hurts to know what is coming.

"I just want this reaping to be over with. Because then there will only be one more year to worry. Marina and Jamaron and Lyana and Tacara and Hopper will all be safe." Klaus pauses, checks the clock again, and goes on. "I might have children one day, if we all make it these last two years... but we will make it. We have to." He smiles fondly, reflecting on a memory the camera did not manage to catch. Maybe he is thinking of his first reaping, when he walked hand in hand with Hopper all the way to the District Square. Perhaps he is thinking of the year Marina became so worked up about the upcoming reaping that only Kofa could calm her down. You wonder for a moment if Klaus believes in Kofa, before deciding that he does, because he loves and trusts his siblings with everything that he is. But you know what is coming next, as Klaus checks the clock once more, almost frantic. You know that he will either become a whole lot more or a whole lot less in the moments to follow.

The camera flashes into darkness again, just as you spot a giveaway tear rolling down the boy's pale cheek. You stare at the darkness, and the darkness stares back.

"JUST PRAYIN' TO A GOD THAT I DON'T BELIEVE IN."
[/center][/b][/color]

When light floods the lens again, it takes you a moment to understand what is happening. The camera shakes, and voices and footsteps overwhelm you. And then you know that it is almost time, and fear rides up in your throat fresh and sharp and aching. As Klaus adjust the camera and turns it on himself, you can see the faces of his siblings around him. Lyana, Tacara, Jamarion, Marina. Hopper is not to be seen. Of course, they are already in position. They are already huddled together in a crowd, waiting for their fate to be sealed. For another year. Klaus is at the center of the group, and although the others look afraid, he looks more so. Maybe it is simply the camera shaking, or perhaps his lip is truly quivering with fear. It's hard to tell when his eyes face the ground so resolutely, boring into the concrete beneath his feet. And still the words are spinning through his mind again and again - not them. Not any of them. It won't be, it can't be. I couldn't live without them, so they'll keep living. All of them. Every last one.

Again, you being to believe that everything will be okay. Klaus will walk away with his camera, breathing a sigh of relief and thinking that next year will be okay, too. They will all grow old together. But then you remember why you are watching the recording, and, more bitterly, what comes next. And as you watch Klaus breaking down inside, you break down a little too. Just a little, though, because you have a job to do.

So you watch as Klaus struggles to look up at the camera, and speak. His voice is surprisingly stable, although just a little too steady to be believable. "It's going to be okay," he says quietly, so quietly that his siblings do not notice. It was as though he was comforting himself more than anything.

"I always want to make a documentary about my life. So I could watch it when I'm old, so I can show it to my kids. So people know what it is like to be me. And this is me, right now. This is reaping day."

Silence falls, and Klaus' eyes dart upwards, to where someone is standing before two large bowls you know only too well. "My name is Klaus Goravich, and this-" he dips his hand into the first bowl and fishes around for a moment - Mahlah Shae[/color]. Klaus' face is washed with a kind of temporary relief the moment he knows that his three sisters are safe. They are going to live for another year, at least. "-is my life."

There is a pause, silence, a shuffling, and the girl takes to the stage. And then the man's hand dips into the second bowl. Klaus falls silent, his eyes closed. Slowly, he begins to rock backwards and forwards just a little, lost in his own little world. Not Hopper. Not Hopper. And not Jamarion, but not Hopper. The boy does not speak the words, but you can feel them pulsing through the camera and into your heart.

"Klaus Goravich"

Klaus looks up, and he smiles. You almost wonder why, before realising that his only wish just came true. Not Hopper, no, not Hopper. Not Hopper at all. It takes Klaus a moment to realise it is his name being called. It takes that moment for him to know that he is not losing one of his siblings today - he is losing them all, every single one of them. And himself as well.

A teardrop falls on the lens of the camera the moment before it hits the ground and everything goes dark.

"'COS I GOT TIME WHILE SHE GOT FREEDOM."
[/center][/b][/color]

"'COS WHEN A HEART BREAKS NO IT DON'T BREAK EVEN."
[/center][/b][/color]

Klaus Goravich accepts his place as tribute.

[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size][/color]

Last Edit: May 20, 2012 6:05:51 GMT -5 by clover ❁

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semper
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61st Reaping [D3] May 20, 2012 18:42:02 GMT -5

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Post by semper on May 20, 2012 18:42:02 GMT -5

take my hand
and we’ll make it, i swear

[/i][/font][/size]

They let us leave the steel factory around noon the day before the reaping. Not a single soul stayed at the place any more than five minutes after the whistle blew – everyone rushed home to be with their family; to reassure their loved ones that tomorrow would be alright and their name wouldn’t be drawn from the glass bowl.

I was a part of the hordes of workers who ran home. With all the hours I put into work, I make enough to keep us from having to buy tesserae, but there’s still that small chance. All of our names are only in the bowl with the minimum amount of papers, but there’s six of us. My family alone has more name slips in the bowls than any other family.

I don’t sleep at all that night. Tossing, turning, praying, hoping, biting back mounting hysteria – I can’t get my mind to settle down in the least bit. The faces of all my siblings pass through my head: Tacara, Jamarion, Klaus, Lyana, Marina – it’s gonna be okay. We’re well off, they’ll be okay. And it’s my last reaping, and their second to last reaping. This’ll all be over in another year and I won’t have to worry.

The sad thing is that our dad doesn’t care. Not even in the slightest. Well, maybe he does care, but he isn’t showing it. He probably doesn’t want to have to face losing someone else again.[/color] The thought makes sense, though. I’ve never lost someone – except for our mother, but I was only a year old when she died so I don’t exactly remember her[/color] – and if I’m freaking out this much, how must our dad feel? How terrifying is it to face an annual event that could very well take away two of your children at the same time?

I get up out of bed around one in the morning and go to the bathroom, turn on the faucet, cup my hands under the cold water, and splash it up onto my face. While I don’t have any kids of my own, my siblings are everything to me. We’re always here for each other, and even though we fight, we always make up. Even with Jamarion, none of us would hesitate to defend him.

Drying my face off, I head back to bed, curling up on my side. I know sleep won’t come to me, so I settle with calming myself down for the rest of the night.

It’s going to be okay.[/color]

- - - - - - - -

As I stand in the pen for eighteen year olds, my heart is pounding behind my ribs. I don’t pay much attention to the mayor’s words as he talks about the reaping. My eyes search the crowd for my siblings, and I see most of them. There’s Jamarion, and Klaus with his camera, as always. The sight of them standing there gives me hope. I can’t let my terror get a hold of me. We’ll be home shortly. It’ll be like every other time.[/color] I suck in a deep gulp of air, nodding at my own thought.

The mayor calls out the girl’s name: ”Mahlah Shea!”

A wave of relief comes over me. Tacara, Lyana, and Marina were all safe, but worry creeps back up on me as the mayor reaches into the boy’s glass bowl.

He pulls out the paper. ”Klaus Goravich!”[/color]

My gaze shoots back over to where Klaus is standing, but I don’t see him anymore – I see him much younger, specifically when he was twelve. His big, hazel eyes staring up at me while asking when his first reaping would be over. ”Soon, Klaus. You’re gonna be okay. We’ll be home in time for lunch, you’ll see.” Klaus smiles up at me. I give him a reassuring hug before he heads off after Jamarion into the large group of twelve year olds.

And as I see my little brother now, I only see the small boy that was looking up at me all those years ago.

”Klaus!”

I forcefully shove my way through my age group, pure terror fueling my every move. I jump over the rope that keeps us all corralled like animals; and as I start to run toward my brother, a Peacekeeper seizes me from behind by wrapping his large, armored arms around my waist, capturing my arms within his grasp. He lifts me up so I can’t run, but that doesn’t stop me. I frantically thrash and throw my weight around, and I eventually squirm my way out of his grasp.

”Klaus, don’t go!” I regain my balance and bolt, but the Peacekeeper is hot on my tail, and this time he trips me by grabbing the back of my pant leg so I fall forward. The man takes his chance and pounces, sticking a boot in the middle of my back and then pulling my right arm up behind my back.

He takes his foot off and grabs the back of my shirt, hauling me to my feet and still keeping my arm pinned behind me. My full attention is still focused on Klaus, though. He doesn’t have his camera – honestly a very rare sight. All the eyes of Panem are watching him now, but I know that none of them are portraying the fear that is like a hurricane inside of me. Poor, innocent Klaus… Klaus that would never hurt a fly, who always had his nose buried in a book, who always had a camera to record every moment.[/color]

Then the reality hits me: Klaus is going to die.[/color]

The back of my eyes sting with the threat of tears and there’s nothing I can do to keep them from flowing freely. This can’t be the last time I’m going to see my brother alive. It can’t be. Hysteria slowly begins to build up.

”Don’t leave us!” I’m desperate and it’s obvious in the tone of my voice. I didn’t put in all the overtime at the factory for this; we didn’t keep our names in the bowls as few times as possible for this; I didn’t take over being head of the Goravich family to watch my sibling be sent off to die.[/color] But there’s nothing I can do. As if he sensed my thoughts, the Peacekeeper tightens his hold on me, making me wince. Maybe someone'll volunteer for him... it's always a possibility.[/color] My hopes rise for a moment, but no one is stepping forward. Klaus doesn’t seem to be giving up his tribute position, either. A pang of pain hits my chest – a void was opening wider with every step Klaus took away from us.

”Klaus, you can’t go… you can’t go…” The tears are streaming down my face. My bleary gaze is locked onto him. I can’t lose him.[/color]

[/blockquote][/size][/justify][/color]

Last Edit: May 20, 2012 19:00:31 GMT -5 by semper

i hear the mountains calling me home

cass
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61st Reaping [D3] May 21, 2012 4:18:41 GMT -5

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Post by cass on May 21, 2012 4:18:41 GMT -5

Marina Goravich`

They say bad things happen for a reason
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
'Coz she's moved on while I'm still grieving
And when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.

”Klaus Goravich.”

That was it. Those two words were all that was needed to send me tumbling over the edge of the thin piece of glass that I balanced on. It was if a slight breeze had pushed me, sending me falling into a place where not even Kofa could save me. The ghostly girl tugs at my arm, but I couldn’t see her, all I could see was Klaus, my brother, my brother. They couldn’t have him. Those filthy bastards couldn’t have my soft and innocent brother, the only boy that I knew who I was. The only person I had ever told about Kofa. The world spun in terrifying circles and I was sure I was going to faint.

Then there was Hopper. His anguished cries reach me and I knew, I couldn’t just stand there. I knew I couldn’t just watch and wish him the best. Marina, go get him. The soothing voice of my ever present friend was all I needed. My feet slip on the ground as I took my first steps. But I keep going.

”Klaus!”

The name was torn from my throat as I shoved my way past the other girls, the people keeping me from getting to my brother. They were blocking me, stopping me. I scream. “Move, move, move.” I yell. The tears were already sliding down my face as I push into the isle where they had Hopper. But I was a crazy girl and I wasn’t going to let any fucking peacekeeper stop me from getting to my brother. Sweet and innocent Klaus. They couldn’t have him. I needed him. But the pain was coming, and I knew that when I sunk into a fit, when I sunk into the pain that took over me I would be gone, and all I could hear would be Kofa.

”Klaus, please come back, no you can’t take him.” I scream. Suddenly there is a Peacekeeper standing in my way, blocking me from reaching my brother. That was enough to break me. “Move you fucking idiot! Or I’ll fucking make you move.” I don’t normally talk much. I only ever talk to Kofa and sometimes, but rarely to Klaus, but out of my five siblings he is the one that I talk to. Out of them all he is the one I trust the most. I blink back the tears, and shove off Kofa’s hand as she places it on my shoulder. Marina, stop you’re going to get hurt. I turn away from the peacekeeper and face my imaginary friend. “I can’t stop Kofa, he is my brother, go away.” I hiss. Marina. The ghostly girl warns.

I ignore her, and look back at the peacekeeper, who was now moving slowly towards me as if he was trying to corner a wounded animal. I take a step back and suddenly there is an arm around me and I’m being dragged away. I scream, they couldn’t do this. “Klaus, run leave get away from them, please Klaus I need you.” Tears streamed down my face as the peacekeeper drags me away. I try desperately to tug him off, but I was weak. I was weak and breakable. Just like Klaus. Klaus wasn’t strong; he was smart, but not strong.

I guess that was the hardest part. I knew the boy wouldn’t come home. Adventurous smart Klaus couldn’t hurt a fly. Now he was going to die. Now I was going to loose the last bit of sanity I had so carefully hung onto. I was losing everything today. I turn my eyes to Klaus, finally able to get my first look. His small body was nothing compared to the other tributes there would be. He was already losing. “No… please no...” The anguish in my voice was unmistakable. It was my last cry for help, but no one was coming, no one seemed to care. Or were they all too scared? My mind was spinning, and I turned my eyes onto Jamarion, spotting the tall brutish boy through the crowd. My eyes said what I could not.

I wanted him to volunteer.

Tough brutish Jamar stood more of a chance then the little boy up there. Jamar could do it. But why would he. Jamarion hated Klaus he hated me. Why would he help me? Why would he risk his life for Klaus? But I needed Klaus more then I needed Jamar. To be honest I could see Jamarion go, sure I would miss the big boy, but I didn’t love him as much as I did Klaus. Love wasn’t something I often felt, but out of all my siblings I felt it the most for Klaus. I have never told anyone. No one knows. I can’t see Klaus leave me.

But Jamarion doesn’t. He doesn’t volunteer.

I sob. I let the tears fall freely down my face. Slowly the sobs follow. I feel a hesitant hand on my shoulder. Kofa. “Go away!” I scream at her, she flinches, and gives me a painful glare. But I was past caring. The peacekeeper lets me go and I crumple to the ground, nothing was holding me any more. Nothing was keeping me from breaking. I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, so that I am in a tight ball. I look up at my brother. I could only hope that his death was painless.

I didn’t believe I would ever see him again.

I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing,
Just prayed to a god that I don't believe in
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding
I'm falling to pieces, yeah
I'm falling to pieces .

Last Edit: May 21, 2012 4:27:03 GMT -5 by cass

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61st Reaping [D3] May 21, 2012 20:35:48 GMT -5

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Post by Python on May 21, 2012 20:35:48 GMT -5

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

Why shed tears for dead tributes?

It seemed pointless to cry over something that no longer existed. Things that turned extinct disappeared for eternity - so why did his siblings bother to cry each year whenever a child was slaughtered in the Games? Did they not understand the rules? Twenty-four walk in, one walks out. Jamarion Goravich could not comprehend their behavior. The Hunger Games was an annual event; something to be expected, something that was inevitable, and something that would never change. Each year his family sat in front of their beaten down television and watched children be reduced to rabid animals, expecting only one of them to reach victory. With such expectations, bearing the sight of their demise should be a simple and painless task - yet each year salty tears stained the carpets of their home, and Jamarion was forced to watch with his infamous scowl as his siblings let their emotions consume them.

So far, only he had proven to be the unbreakable one.

The Reaping was no catastrophe to him. He sluggishly rolled out of bed like he did every average morning, and slipped into a casual outfit before making his way to the Town Square with his five siblings. With the exception of Hopper, it was their sixth year attending the Reaping, and Jamarion expected nothing different. Only he would be the one to face this event without a shred of fear. Only he would hold a stoic expression as he shuffled through the crowd of seventeen-year-old males with his nerdy little brother, Klaus. And only he would fail to think of what consequences would await if he or any of his siblings were reaped. Jamarion had never been much of a thinker; he was well-known for being the dullest crayon in the box. The color that nobody liked, and nobody touched. He lived for the moment rather than the future, and spent little time contemplating what would happen if Hopper, Klaus, Lyana, Marina, and especially Tacara were reaped. The thought had crossed his mind a one time, and during that moment he had decided that Tacara could never be reaped under any circumstances. But after that, the thoughts vanished. The Goraviches were untouchable, anyhow. They have never been reaped, and they never would be.

Jamarion shot a glare at his brother Klaus. He was talking into his camera again. Idiot. Did he really believe that people would care enough to watch his boring documentary in the future? He rolled his eyes at the sight of the silly device. He was almost tempted to slap it out of his hands, but paused when the district’s escort appeared onstage and announced that the female tribute’s name would be selected. ~~Not Tacara. Not Tacara.~~[/s][/color] “Mahlah Shea!” A hint of a smile crept across Jamarion’s lips. He had been right - no Goravich would be reaped. Tacara, Lyana, and Marina were safe, and probably breathing sighs of relief. With newfound confidence in his family name, Jamarion slipped his hands into his pockets and stared at the glass jar of boy names as a hand plunged into it. As soon as the male name was called, the Goravich family would return home without a worry on their shoulders, and after the siblings dispersed, Jamarion figured he would go rip that stupid camera right out of--

“Klaus Goravich!”

Blink. Heads turned and faced Jamarion’s brother. Blink. There was a loud thud as his camera crashed against the cement. Blink. He spotted a smile and a tear forming simultaneously as his brother emerged from the crowd and headed for the stage. What is happening? He heard familiar voices screaming his brother’s name. ”Klaus, don’t go!” Hopper desperately scrambled towards the stage, and upon spotting him the Peacekeepers were on top him trying to pin him to the ground. ”Klaus, please come back! No, you can’t take him!” Marina cursed and shouted for her brother as peacekeepers grabbed her and dragged her away. For a split second, her gaze met his own, and he looked past the translucent eyes and into her mind and saw exactly what ~~they both~~ she wanted him to do. Volunteer.

But Jamarion was frozen in place. There was wet cement glued to his feet, and his body had turned cold. Klaus was reaped. Klaus was reaped. Klauswasreaped. What the hell? Jamarion’s brother. Little Klaus. Wimpy, little Klaus, who couldn’t defend himself if his life depended on it ~~and it will~~. Klaus, who was as fragile as a feather and could snap like a twig. If Klaus walked into the arena, he would be killed in an instant. There was no surviving. Klaus was walking into his imminent death, and accepting his post as tribute without a single volunteer wishing to spare his life. Yet here was Jamarion; strong, fearless, and frightening, who could not bring himself to volunteer for his brother’s place. Klaus is going to die.

No, he isn’t.

The peacekeepers directed their attention to the monstrous boy when he emerged from the crowd of anxious and confused children. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed that he was surrounded and outnumbered, but regardless he shot Klaus the dirtiest of glares from across the Square. ”Don’t you dare embarrass us, Klaus!” he shouted. He clenched his large hands into tight fists, and the peacekeepers - sensing hostility and danger - bolted towards him. ”Play to win!” The peacekeepers lifted him off of his feet and dragged him away while he continued to scream with enough force and anger to leave his lungs sore for a week. ”Do you hear me, Klaus? PLAY TO WIN!”

He burst into a fit of coughing and let the peacekeepers drag him away from his brother ~~forever~~.[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

Last Edit: May 21, 2012 20:52:44 GMT -5 by Python

kiah

guest

61st Reaping [D3] Jun 7, 2012 2:44:33 GMT -5

Quote

Post by kiah on Jun 7, 2012 2:44:33 GMT -5

Tacara Goravich

I walk bare footed over the ground, my toes sinking into the luscious dirt, turning them a brownish color. The feeling of the dirt rubbing between my toes feels strange, but not uncomfortable, I wiggle them deeper needing to feel the dirt. The dirt squirms into the gaps in my toes, sending the strange feeling further into my thoughts, I smile, it doesn’t show teeth, but it adds some life to my dead face. Then suddenly I am battered with fear, the feeling of dirt suddenly gets very uncomfortable. Was their bugs in this dirt? Bugs that might eat my flesh… then eat me from the inside out, resulting in a painful, and very, very, slow death? I feel a scream begin in my throat the flees to my lips.

“OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH!” she squeals as she release her toes from the grasp of the dirt that now clings to her toes. Was their bugs? Were they eating her now? OMG I try to look at my feet, but my eyes are blinded by the fear that surges through me. I was going to die alive. Slow. Painful. Death.

Finally I calm down enough to glance at my quivering feet. breathe Tacara, there’s nothing there, it’s just your imagination. Breath Tacara takes a deep, quivering breath, as she starts the walk back home. She can’t drag the thought away that she was nearly eaten alive- No, Tacara, you only thought that, it never actually happened…- she tells herself. The door to home was open. huh, they must of already left… I glanced at my feet one more time, before deciding that I better not waste any more time. I started the grim walk to town square.

Today was the day that two kids from the D were sent away to be killed, they might have a chance to come back you ask? Pfft. Nope. They were going to die, just like the rest of them. Only one person wins… 23 other kids are slaughtered in the process. I walks with her heart on her sleeve. I knew the chances of me being picked were slim, but I still feared it. Like you fear everything else, I spat at myself as my feet drew me closer and closer to where everyone waits.

My thought fly to the people that make up my heart, yes they scared me, all of them, but never had they hurt me, they were always there for me. Marina. what was to happen if she was sent to die. What was to happen if I was to lose her, yes she may be a little loopy, but wasn’t everyone? Didn’t everyone have their moments? But people still loved them, loved them because no matter who they are, they were people who were there when they needed them, they were there, not just because they had to, but because they loved you. And what about Jammar. He was such a big boy, Oh my gosh was he big, I would watch him bash people up, take away what mattered to them. he would bully his own brothers and sisters, but yet… He had never laid a finger on her. Klaus. Oh Klaus, he was just so quiet, so innocent, who was he supposed to survive, with all the blood the gore. How? and last of all, Lynna, she was the cockiest of them all, but she was easy to talk to…

* * * *

I found herself standing in a small cramped up area. People standing way to close to mer. Way to close. I try to suck in big breath, but they didn’t work. People were practically standing on top of me. Breathe Tacara. Come on now, deep breaths, that’s right… Deep breaths my ass! I had to get out of here. But suddenly the corwd went quiet as the man slide his hand into the big ball to grab a slip of paper. My heart froze. pfft, you will be fine, Tacara, trust me… then the name was called out. And I sigh. I was safe, and so was my family, wait it wasn’t over yet. My gaze travels to Hopper first. He is looking at Klaus, his eyes showing so much love. He loves him I thought my eyes travelling to Jammar. He is looking quiet relived that his family hasn’t been called but something dawns on him as the man walks across the stage.

“Klaus, Goravich!”

No, no no no no! People are everywhere they are starting to move, no I’m going to die, they are coming closer, I can’t breathe, there are too many, Oh my god I’m going to suffocate- Wait. What did he just say? Klaus? But he can’t of said Klaus. Klaus was my brother. I feel tears coming as I here Marina cry out, The peacekeepers are dragging her away, holding her back, her tears, and cries, echo through my head. Klaus no, it can’t be I search the area my eyes finding him, he looks relived but then scared, as one lonely tears falls down his face. “NOOO!” I shout, I had never screamed so loud in my life. But I couldn’t lose him, he was part of me, he was part of my heart, by taking him away… they were taking some of me with him. “please no please!” My body is shaking uncontrollably now, and people they are everywhere, they threaten to swallow me up, to come to close they I won’t be able to breathe, so close, that I can’t taste fresh air. I was going to die… No wait I wasn’t going to die… Klaus was…”

[ooc= Sorry about this post being solate D:]

Last Edit: Jun 7, 2012 2:45:33 GMT -5 by kiah

latisha

guest

61st Reaping [D3] Jun 12, 2012 3:23:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by latisha on Jun 12, 2012 3:23:27 GMT -5

LYANA GORAVICH

[/size]

I can feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest as I stare out the window. Was my life about to end in a few days or one of my siblings? All I could think of was please don’t let any one of my family die. Klaus, Tacara, Hopper and Jamarion. They couldn’t go in; if they do I have failed my mother. But if Marina goes I have failed life. Not my sister, the only one I feel closest to.
Who would I talk to then? I carefully got off my bed and smoothed down my ruffled blue dress. All I could feel was the worry and anguish that is burning through my body. We have survived this many times, why not now? I looked into my families eyes and saw the stress etched onto everyone’s face. I felt like my chest was going to rip open as I left the sanctuary of the house and out into the shining sun.

I stand with my sisters as people fill in the gaps around us. Reaping was so, so close. I stare at my hands, my mind reeling with all the possibilities. Death or life, death or life. What should I do if Marina is called out, volunteer or let her go to her death she doesn’t deserve. What would happen if one of my brothers are called out, I can’t volunteer for them. I swallowed, my throat sore and parched. If only life was fair. What was the possibilities of any of us being pulled out of that huge bowl. I snort in derision knowing the slim chances of being pulled out. My eyes wander over to the big, glass bowl that held all our names and could send us to our death. Our death. I could make it one more year we all could. Klaus, Tacara, Hopper, Jamarion, Mariana and me. A big happy family. I start to panick as I see the district escort entre the stage.

I look around at the faces around me, many were filled with sorrow and fear but what was worse some shined with pride and excitement. I felt disgusted at some people in the district. What would life be without the Hunger Games? The tapping of the microphone brought me back to reality as I looked at the beaming face of our district escort. A frown was plastered to my face and I grabbed hold of my sisters’ hands. I felt comfort at the feel of familiar hands and the knowing I am not alone. I can feel the tears that threaten fall down my cheeks but I hold them back with a lot of self-control. The world started to spin and I hear the pounding hearts all around me. I stare at the dirt below my feet to distract myself as they went on about the Hunger games. I looked up as he walked over to the bowl that held all the girls name, that held my name.

He reached into the glass sphere and pulled out a paper slip that can hold your death sentence.

“Mahlah Shea,”

I felt relief wash over me as I heard the name called out. No, it wasn’t Tacara or Mariana. All I could hope was my brother’s weren’t called out. I looked hopefully at my brother’s who stood tense, waiting for their fait to be called upon. My breathing was rapid as the escort walked over to the bowl that holds the names of the boys. Prehaps their still was hope in this small world. He dove his hand into the depths of the folded white papers. He drew his hand out holding the tiny little piece of paper. He walked over to the microphone his voice spreading out across the square. The escorts voice was full of life and excitement. I scowl, making one last small pray before he reads out the name.

“Klaus Goravich”

I couldn’t breathe, my hold world shattered into pieces.
My feet were frozen to the ground as I tried to process what I had just herd. The name rings through my ears. Klaus, Klaus, Klaus. No it couldn’t be. I looked over to were my brother was walking up the aisle. My voice was hoarse as I swallowed, “KLAUS...No Klaus!” His head bobbed as he slowly walked up to the peacekeepers. I could hear Mariana crying out to Klaus. My feet flew across the ground as I shoved people out of my way to reach Klaus. I broke into the clearing just as the peacekeepers surrounded him. How could this happen? How could I let my brother go to his death? I looked around pleadingly for help, for help to keep my brother alive.

My hand reached out to the retreating forms on the stage. I failed my mother, I failed myself. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks burning my skin as the splashed down onto my bare arms. I sat on the ground and just let the grief roll over me. No it couldn’t be my Klaus, soft and innocent Klaus that wouldn’t harm anyone... Is there any hope for him to return to us, safe and sound? I really didn’t know if would want him to return. Would he ever be the same after seeing the horrors he will in the arena or even killing people who don’t deserve to die? All I know is I have lost the Klaus I once knew.

I caught my last fleeting glimpse of him as he was ushered into the building, his face full of relief but scared and frightened. I felt my heart break all over again. I am losing my grip on the world on my life, i am falling into the dark waters of insanity.