Try Your Luck ( C Fair) (Open to all)

It seems like forever since something magical had crept into Ebony’s life again. Not the fairy-tale, happy-ever-after type in storybooks, but the type that brings change in an atmosphere. Cheering, in a place where there should be crying. Should be mourning, remembering the death of two more tributes, who had fallen fighting for their lives only days ago, the boy only this morning? He was Mace's brother. Poor kid. The last comment could have been intended for her, but shoving the small reminder of death out of her head was harder that it seemed. And yet this magic brought upon happiness in some of Ten's darkest times. Magic isn't real, but this laughter around me certainly is.

It was a little unnerving, this sudden shift in mood. So unnerving that it began to affect her own. (Five dollars snagged from a counter top whilst the attendant was distracted - that'll get me lunch, thanks.) With this, memories began to flood into her head, memories of a happy little girl in a pretty pink dress, high above her father's shoulders. On top of the world, the Queen of the castle, clutching his head with tiny fingers and marvelling at the sea of heads that bobbed around her, the swirl of colours and smells of food and prizes lined up all in a row. In a blink of an eye, she was back in reality, further away from the sky yet still catching herself with her head in the clouds. I really should stop that. Quickening her pace, Ebony remembered why she was here, what she came for. Not for memories, or a quick rush of nostalgia, but for a proper purpose. The chest was longing for some new, sacred valuables, and the teenager was here to fill it up with treasure again.

And then she saw it.

Not fancy jewellery or worn-out leather wallets. Not food, a nice hat, or even a back pack. Not something that she may have no use for, not even something brandishing a name that she knew well. But the way her fingers began to itch, the way her insides yearned for it, she knew she must have it. For her secrets stashed away under her bed, far away from anyone who could get their hands on her things. I really need it. But I can’t steal it, dammit. And luck was never on her side when she needed it most.

So for the first time in what seemed like forever, Ebony waltzed up to the fair stand and slammed down the money. ”I think this’ll cover it” she mused to the stall owner directly, picking up the ring and squinting at the board of rules before turning back and aiming at the game with nimble hands. Come one, come on...

[dice=10]

”Dammit”

A thirst to succeed crept through Ebony, chewing her bottom lip as she concentrated, twirling the shoe in her hands. Sighing, she nodded a thank-you and attempted to focus, had it not been for the constant murmur of activity behind her. Catching the stall owners voice pronounce her name, she flicked her head up and turned to look at him, blinking in surprise. I was his daughter. I still am, I guess. Except he's not my father anymore. Once upon a time, her father led her round paddocks on horses, read her stories before bed. Taught her about stirrups, saddles, reins and tack. Bought her toffee apples by the barrel and won her a plush pony at a stall all those years ago. No, both my parents died that day. Or at least, both their souls.

The urge to spill out her thoughts crept slowly up towards the brunettes throat, but shoved them back down with a swallow. Instead, she nodded again, nervous fingers clutching the metal ring in her fingers as she opened her mouth to speak. ”Yes,” she replied quietly, almost worried that her voice would crack. ”Yes, I am. Do y'know him?” she asked, suddenly struck with curiosity. More importantly, did this boy know her, and she not realise it? Then again, Ebony hardly spoke to anyone, keeping to herself and her box of stolen gifts hoarded away like the memories she kept locked away in her head.

Gritting her teeth once more, she positioned her arm to fling the shoe towards the target, crossing a pair of fingers underneath the table and hoping that she'd take away at least something, if not the pretty nameplate that hung at the top of the booth. Better keep this one hidden away extra-carefully. Ripred knows what She would think if she discovered my things. With a determined summon of energy, she tossed.

[dice=10]

”Damn,” the teen sighed as the shoe flew to the side and landed on the floor with a clang, arching her head back for a moment with a shrug. She'd never been good at these things, anyway. He father would play them for her, and sadly she hadn't inherited his good arms, let alone his streak of luck. Oh well, better find something else for the box, instead. Turning back to the stall owner, who's face she still did not recognise. Perhaps he knew her family through the dead and gone horse business - but Ebony did not know how long she'd be able to hold up with the mention of her past hanging around her so closely. Still, she stayed put, determined to fight through her tipping balance of emotion, and waited for a response.

The horseshoe sailed to the exact spot he'd wanted to and Scutcher sat, blinking at his unusual good fortune for once. Noreen Lexington, he was about to say to the stall owner when he looked over at the girl again. Twice he'd seen her aim for the ringer, twice she'd been disappointed. It seemed like everyone in the district was united in sorrow in some way. The name plate wasn't Noreen, and winning some dumb horse shoe throwing challenge wouldn't bring her back. Besides, he already had the garden to commemorate her, and the way that her name still sounded in his head. It would be a lie to say he didnt still want it it badly, but maybe having the garden and the memory and wanting the name plate when someone else was going without was just greedy.

He had two shots anyway. Let the girl have this one, and if not...the name could always go to Jack. His until the very last after all.

"Ah...eh..miss,"he said in a quiet mumble to Ebony, flushing scarlet as he so usually did. "Which name plate did you want?"

for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died

Mace had a few official duties at the produce fair, but not so many that he was booked the entire day. Really he'd gotten the impression that most people were more interested in the oddity that was Julian Bryze, with his upper district grooming and accent. Not to mention that he was easily the best looking person in the District. Mace tried not to begrudge him the attention, but after awhile he just wanted to be away from the crowds, from the noise and the questions and the pestering for autographs. He wanted to be back home - all the way home, in the north, tending to his cattle, before any of this had ever happened.

Except then he wouldn't have Julian. But he would have Elon.

That scenario didn't change what had happened to Larae, though. She'd died while he was still a boy, still ranching, spending more time with animals than people. He'd seen her name first on the plaques at the horse shoe toss. And then he'd seen Damaris' name, and then it had clicked. He'd averted his eyes, pulled down on the wide-brimmed, mahogany stetson, and strolled past, a piece of hay sticking out between his artificially straightened teeth.

But he couldn't stay away. Couldn't forget seeing his name out of the periphery of his vision. In some ways, Elon lived more strongly now than he ever had. His name rested on more tongues, his face flashed on more screens. It was a temporary torture for Mace, but he was beginning to wonder if the quiet that came after this storm would be even more painful, if it would cut sideways instead of straight through.

Not that he wanted the pain to stop. No, it was a poignant reminder of all he had and lost. But some days it was just easier to focus on the memory of pain. He hadn't thought of Larae much in the last year, not until that day. The day that had no end. Then his thoughts turned frequently to her, to the site of her burial, to her throwing knives, to her challenges. He lived more with Larae every day since the 61st then he had when she had been his neighbor. It was simply easier to carry the weight of her death alongside the souls he kept than it was to even considering lifting the memory of Elon.

So it was her name, her plate, that was at the forefront of his thoughts as he settled across the way from the booth, his brim still low, the hay almost entirely chewed through. Out of the corner of his vision he kept an eye out for Julian, for Lia. He figured she would come for her twin's plate eventually. But he had not considered the possibility that anyone other than an Emberstatt or a Stromstatt would actually request Elon's plate. He spat out the remnants of hay, and listened carefully to the girl's voice.

Did he know her? Had he known her? Or had Elon? That last possibility seemed very remote. From the back he thought perhaps he could have met her, but he was fairly sure he hadn't done anything beyond that. Fairly. He lifted his hat slowly, having missed the majority of the action and conversation. He'd been waiting for a quiet opportunity to prove that his luck was the worst in the district. But it seemed there would never again be a quiet moment for Mace Emberstatt.

The collar of his pale blue jean shirt flared as he strode across the row, his neck tense. Generally he had trimmed down, as food could no longer hold his attention, but he still had a bit of sag around the middle of him. His upper body strength had been diminished, though. The benefit of youth. He felt his biceps tighten under his shirt as he hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. It was all for nothing, though. He still had tape around his knuckles, and pink scars dotted his face where the glass had splintered his flesh. His dead eyes barely lifted to the level of the brim as he nodded to Kirk, and then turned to Ebony and Scutcher.

"Believe the lady already made her choice," he said slowly, sizing up this man he didn't recognize, and a girl he may have known sometime long ago. His gaze flickered away to the booth's manager. "Ain't that right?"

Before the day blossomed into an odyssey of chores and running messages, Teal had been given an hour or so to explore the other stalls. Their own horses, a precious few calm enough to handle whatever the fair might throw at them, had been thoroughly groomed and tacked, ready for their competitions in the near future. In her pocket held a handful of coins that would be lucky to buy her a sweet. It wasn't much - all she and her mother could spare, really - but she was grateful for whatever little she had. The previous year she hadn't been able to scrounge anything, and Teal had to wander amongst the novelties and sweet stalls without being able to purchase anything. For a while she meandered around, looking at the other equines their own produce would be against, absentmindedly admiring their sloping hindquarters, their refined features, the complicated braids their owners had twisted their manes in. They were fine creatures, but in her mind didn't compare to their own selection. Perhaps this will be a good year for the ranch, she thought optimistically. If any of their horses managed to place in their competition it would guarantee some interest in their farm. But she shook her head, remembering this was her free time, possibly the only chance to have some fun for the next few days. She made a beeline for the place where the brightly-coloured novelties were set up, realising with dismay that most of them required more money than she possessed.

Her brown hair was tied in a messy bun, a feeble effort to look more formal and tidy for the judges when it was time for the competitions. Her usually bright eyes had dark pouches underneath them; truthfully she hadn't gotten much sleep. Another District 10 resident had been slain in the Hunger Games, and she spent most of the night wondering if Noreen had not run into those tributes, not received that fatal blow, would he have won? The livestock district was definitely out for back-to-back victories, with the news that Elon Emberstatt had died this very morning. Dark eyes snagged on the most recent victor of 10, having only won two years ago. Surprise sprang to her face; why, his two students had just passed away! What would he be doing here? Nevertheless, she found herself drawing closer, finding a small gathering of people around him. Out of them she only immediately recognised Ebony; a girl her age who had made quite the reputation at school. She avoided eye contact with anyone and didn't dare eavesdrop on the conversation, but instead approached the stall owner, smiling slightly as she placed the coins on the table.

"Should tha' be enough, sir?"