64th Reaping [D10]

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

The sweltering summers of District Ten always made Mace reminisce about the Northern Community Home. With only farmland for miles and miles, the children could find no shady respite from the intense heat. Their best bet was the pond, always slick with a layer of algae and other more nefarious substances. It didn't matter. Not when he was young and just needed some relief. Not now that he was grown and life was vanishing before his eyes. He could never love summer the way he wanted to, with the vivid sunsets, the lazy heat, the endless days. Every year the black spot of the Reaping ruined it for him, perhaps more so since his own than ever before.

It would be better this year, he reassured himself, as he buttoned his gold and white stripped shirt. It had to be. And there, in the mirror, he laughed a sad laugh. Had to be? Last year he could have been shipping off Ophelia instead of Essence, Icarus instead of Axel. The more connections, the more roots he planted in this unfair world, the more he risked every year. And yet. How could he not want more in his life? More than Julian who grew more and more distant? More than his friends who were scattered over the twelve districts and who had damages of their own? The victors were as much his family now as the Statt siblings, but they were safer. It was easier to think of them as family because they would always be around.

Until the Statts aged out, they would never be safe. How many times did the Reaping need to prove that?

It was with veiled grey eyes that he took his seat on the podium, next to the new Mayor. He hadn't found many opportunities to interact with Marlboro. He'd never even heard his name until the announcement of his victory was made. But there was a comfortable companionship between them, and Mace felt a little less alone on the stage since he'd been elected. He nodded and murmured a greeting, his palms sweating, his gaze set on the bowl with the names. There were so, so many in Ten, and yet there were never enough.

He didn't scan the crowd for his siblings as he once had. He knew they would be there, waiting, and he had no comfort for them. He was as trapped by the Reaping as they. As the escort prattled, Mace let his mind drift. It was the only time of the year he was apart from Julian, and yet things had been so strange, so strained, it was almost a relief this year. Almost. Except he felt guilty for even having such a traitorous thought, and bowed his head.

The names rang out, twin death sentences. Something clenched in his chest eased. He lifted his chin just in time to see Motel's ecstatic smile, turned to watch Bae sit and caught the tear rolling down her chin. Fucking perfect. A crying girl (when had he ever known what to do with one of those?) and a masochist. Or possibly worse: a sadist. He wasn't sacrificing a sibling, so that was something. But these two. All the teenagers in Ten, and he got them. Mace shook his head, just once, and as the escort terminated the ceremony, he whispered to Marlboro, "It's no one you know either, right? Wonder what we did right." Sarcasm, and truth, all rolled into one. Mace smirked.