66th Reaping [D8]

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Lulu
Retired Staff

[M:2982250]

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

66th Reaping [D8] Feb 1, 2014 0:19:08 GMT -5

Post by Lulu on Feb 1, 2014 0:19:08 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, "Savannah Carey!" He then reached into the other ball. "Luke Davis!"

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, February 4th, 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.. It's not a requirement, but please please please just consider the lessons. They'll help even the most advanced RPer.

{lulu's cast}

Anatra
District Mayor

[M:500]

759 POSTS

last seen Nov 28, 2016 2:48:07 GMT -5

First rule of going on the run is: "Don't run. Walk."

66th Reaping [D8] Feb 1, 2014 5:19:25 GMT -5

Post by Anatra on Feb 1, 2014 5:19:25 GMT -5

Reaping Day

Luke Davis - District Eight - Eighteen

The early morning, that is no different to any other, blooms. Except it is different - twenty four kids are going to be sent off to die, one survives. Everybody knows the story, and that is why you can hear the crying of children all through the District.

I rise from my soft bed noticing nothing abnormal apart from the smart clothes laid on the end of the bed which have somehow resisted the nightmare-filled cover of the bed itself. My mother and I don't talk until I am in it. It has always been like that so she knows I won't try to avoid the Reaping, which never works for anyone. I have some time due to my usual early routine, but not long. I change. In the bathroom I check whether I am worthy. My hair is tended to, nice and short but still enough to be styled. I appear to be in shape, though I never have a practice dummy to test it. "Morning, Darling." My mother says to me as I reach the final creaking step of our lowly house. Her voice sounds fearful, too. This is my last reaping. "Morning." I say to her, trying to retain the normality of today. My mother is a fan of dramatics, especially now that I am older, it is best not to get her upset. "You look lovely." She is standing there isolated in the kitchen. I don't even need to look at her to know that she is on the verge of breaking down. I collect her in my arms and she puts her head on my shoulder. "I'll be fine, don't worry. It's never happened before."

"Exactly..." I hear from her as she repairs herself, taking away from my arms and investing in dish washing.

The whistle blows.

Suddenly the goodbyes have been spoken and I am out and walking into the street. The routine prick of the finger, scan and formation is enacted. We stand solitary in the District Square. "War, terrible war." The broadcast begins. My hands begin to shiver a little so I hook my thumbs in my trousers. "But freedom has a cost." It speaks to all the gullible teenagers among me. It continues, "This is how we safeguard our future." My eyes roll privately.

"Ladies first." He delves into the bowl. "Savannah Carey!" I don't know her, but I feel sorry for her. The is the part that takes the longest, the walk up to the stairs. Eyes are pinning continuously on those who walk up the stairs, the Hall of Justice overlooking everything like a predator, waiting to swallow all of the tributes two by two.

As he reaches into the next ball, I see Savannah. She looks older, maybe even eighteen like me. So it is possible. I feel my heart beat against my chest, any more and it may thrust out. "Luke Davis." My eyes almost drop. Heads turn from around me and eyes pin like they always do. I take initiative. I make my way out quickly and walk down the center, and if I trip up the stairs...

I don't. I get up and I look out at my District, wondering what they see. They may see a pair of adults, ready to do their Disrict proud. They may see nothing but a pair of children.

(( OOC: Much accept. Luke Davis accepts his place. If you need a picture, here is one; Link ))

Last Edit: Feb 1, 2014 11:02:26 GMT -5 by Anatra

Stare
Retired Staff

3,105 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Feb 15, 2024 23:43:11 GMT -5

and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

66th Reaping [D8] Feb 2, 2014 1:21:54 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Feb 2, 2014 1:21:54 GMT -5

chapter ( the first )

“Olivia! Olivia, we’re going to be late again!”

I tap my foot impatiently at the bottom of the rickety staircase while Dad rambles unintelligibly in the living room. Something glass, probably a bottle, shatters loudly. His senseless words are replaced by a loud string of curses. I grab the loose railing and swing around partially through the doorway. “Could you shut up for just five seconds while I try to get everyone organized?” He turns away from the spread of bright colors on our already stained floor, blinking at me blurrily. “And watch your mouth. Mary can hear you from all the way upstairs.”

He slurs something I can’t quite make out, probably another swear, and then shoves through the door, the screen banging shut behind him. “You forgot the kids!” I shout after him, sarcasm laced thick into my tone, before sighing and shaking my head slightly. “Idiot.” I’m sure we’ll find him passed out somewhere alongside the road on our way to the square. It wouldn’t be the first time, anyway. The man can’t stay sober on a good day, much less during the actual Reaping.

“‘vannah?” A small hand tugs on my pale skirt and I turn around with eyebrows raised before a small smile manages to find its way onto my face and I drop down so that I’m level with the six year old’s face. Lucy is the youngest of us all, the only one not eligible for the reaping. Dad knocked up a woman several years after Mom died. She was a real witch, dumping little Lucy in my arms as if she were trash and telling me she didn’t have time to raise a little brat. Lucy isn’t a brat, though. She’s a sweetheart, the little heart of our family, rarely without a smile on her face. Even though she’s still young, I know she’s going to be gorgeous when she grows up. She has chocolate curls and Dad’s green eyes, with skin like porcelain and a sweet disposition that will have boys lining up to talk to her when she gets older.

She’s dressed in her finest, a coarse pink hand-me-down blouse that every single one of the Carey sisters have worn before her and a brown skirt I managed to steal from a distracted shopkeeper. Her hair is loose, pulled away from her face by a small headband. With one hand she clings to her worn stuffed bear, creatively named Teddy, with whom she hasn’t parted since I acquired it for her several years ago. I frown slightly at the furry brown face, gently running my fingers over the hand-stitched features. “Sweetie, are you sure you want to bring Teddy along? They might take him away.”

It’s the same speech she gets every year, and she reacts the exact same way, lifting the bear and clutching it to her chest. “I’m scared, ‘vannah. Teddy helps me when I’m scared.”

“Hold onto him really tight then, okay?” I say. “He’s your responsibility. Don’t lose him.” As if. It would take a miracle for Lucy to lose the assortment of rags somehow sewn together to form a bear. I’ve never really cared for it myself - I was never into stuffed animals, even when I was little - but I knew the instant I saw it that Lucy would love it. It’s one of the few things that I’ve honestly purchased in my entire life.

“Okay, I’m ready!” a voice twitters behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see seventeen-year-old Olivia spreading her arms out for us to see her in all her dressed up glory. It’s another hand-me-down, this one a lacey blue dress that ends at her knees. We’re all going to freeze out there in these kinds of clothes, but there’s not much better that we have. A few bracelets jangle together on her wrist and she’s done her hair up into some kind of intricate bun, only a few stray strands sticking out of the otherwise neat knot. Out of all of us, Olivia is by far the one who cares the more about appearances, and she has a right to. She’s every bit as gorgeous as Lucy will someday be. Despite her occasional shallow behavior, Olivia’s my second-hand man. I trust her to take care of things when I’m not around to.

“Eva!” I call out loudly, my voice echoing through the emptiness of the house. “Helen! Nora! C’mon, we’re going to be late!” Eva, two years my junior, scurries down the steps and glances up at me for approval. I nod once, smiling slightly. Eva’s the dreamer among us, often lost in her own thoughts. She’s optimistic and sweet, and entering her bedroom is like walking into a fairy’s hideaway. She drills little holes through the shards of glass from the things Dad breaks - Ripred knows how - and strings them from her ceiling, a colorful display that glitters in the sun. Her drawings, creatures of her imagination, cover the walls.

Nora, thirteen, is next, ponytail bouncing behind her. She’s every bit as optimistic and sweet as Eva, but with far more enthusiasm. She could talk your ear off if you’d let her. She’s a poet, always rambling on and on about stars and flowers. Sometimes I catch her sneaking out in the middle of the night just to go out into the fields and lay in the grass. Sometimes I stop her, but often I join her. It’s the only time she’s actually quiet. With so much energy and optimism she’s practically bouncing off the walls, though today she’s slightly less talkative.

“Helen!”

The final Carey sister, at twelve years old, is sniffling pathetically as she shuffles down the stairs. Helen is the sensitive one. She’s always trying to do things for the better of the family, even though I’m constantly reminding her that that’s my job. The poor girl is dead terrified of Dad, and it’s easy enough to write her off as a shy, scared little girl. She’s not though. When Dad hits me, the others usually leave or hide their faces. Helen always holds my gaze, though. She never looks away. Today, however, she is as fragile as Eva’s glass. At the final few steps she catches my gaze and is suddenly flying right into me and wrapping skeletal arms around my torso, causing me to stumble back a bit.

“It’s going to be one of us,” she sobs, her tears seeping through me shirt. “It’s going to be one of us, I just know it.”

I nod at Eva to start herding the others toward the door before gently prying the younger girl off of me, gripping her shoulders tightly. “They aren’t going to pick your name, Helen.” While she’s always been terrified of the Reapings this is the first time she’s ever openly cried, and it makes my heart ache. “Or Eva’s, or Nora’s, or any of ours. I promise.”

“How do you know?” She whimpers.

“I just know,” I assure her.

I wrap my arms around her in a brief hug before ushering her outside to join the others, though guilt twists itself in my stomach. While we’re a close family, it feels almost strange to all be together like this. I’m more often than not preying on weak shop owners during the day while Eva sketches in her room, Olivia goes out with friends, Nora writes on the windowsill, Helen does chores, and Lucy plays with her dolls. We usually have dinner in different rooms, and at breakfast we’re too tired to really have any true bonding. It’s father who truly brings us together, with his drunk rants and tendency to damage everything nice in our home.

We break into a hurried walk along the half frozen road, icy winds biting harshly at our ears and fingertips. As I predicted, we’re running horribly late, and I don’t even stop to check the ditches for Dad as we rush into the square. I quickly organize the girls, making a neighbor of ours promise to keep a close eye on Lucy and then ensuring everyone gets into their proper age groups before ducking past a few familiar Keepers and into my own spot. Just in time, too.

I don’t even have enough time to be afraid before they call my name.

Things go quiet then. I’m not sure if it’s because the crowd has fallen silent or if it’s because I’ve lost my connection with the world, my heartbeat suddenly roaring in my ears and my vision beginning to swim. Someone takes hold of my arm and guides me forward, and I step without thinking. Without trying. Vaguely I register screaming. Helen.

I just know.

And in that moment, I’m not upset because that’s my name they called, and I’m going to be the one going to the Capitol and into the Arena to kill and eventually be killed. I’m not upset because death is staring me in the face. I’m upset because I promised Helen that we’d all be okay, and that was a lie.

Then there is a stage and bright lights and a microphone shoved in my face as all eyes find me. I frown, trying to spot my sisters in the sea of faces. I find them easily enough, huddling together and holding back Helen. Sweet, quiet, delicate little Helen who is lunging forward, clawing at the air, screaming, trying to get to me. I want to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, to tell her that she’s going to be just fine even though I know it’s a lie. Lucy stands nearby, clinging to Teddy as she watches me with wide eyes. A memory stirs in my mind, completely out of place but there all the same. And then I say something so stupid that it’s a miracle the entire district doesn't burst out laughing.

“I can’t leave. I promised Lucy I’d read her a bedtime story.”

((OOC: Savannah Carey accepts her position