97th Reaping [District Five]

umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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97th Reaping [District Five] May 31, 2024 23:12:04 GMT -5

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Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on May 31, 2024 23:12:04 GMT -5

Mayor Nox seemed to be well-rested, compassionately addressing his people on a particularly-grim day with confidence. The cameras focused in on Panem's newest mentor, Lionel Estrada, whispering something into Lysander Mae's ear as she stood next to him at the back of the stage. They then panned to escort Salazar making his way onto the stage, his pointed chin tipped into the air and a slimy smile splitting his face as slender fingers wrapped around the microphone stand. "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 children. "First up," the Escort announced, pulling out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and read out to the crowd, "Roland Pierce [NPC]!*" He then reached into the ball again, selecting another name. "Sergio Quiverus!"

OOC - RPing is allowed. Please feel free to post below with any character in the district reacting as you'd like.

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.

Tributes have until Tuesday, June 4th to post their acceptances.

*volunteering for this position will open on Tues 6/4 to anyone who completed the 97th Activity check

Last Edit: Jun 5, 2024 13:07:58 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

kap
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97th Reaping [District Five] Jun 1, 2024 12:35:29 GMT -5

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Post by kap on Jun 1, 2024 12:35:29 GMT -5

SERGIO QUIVERUS

DISTRICT FIVE

tw: child abuse and neglect

My brother Bronte had told me twice now what a terrifying experience the reaping was.

This year was to be Bronte's third reaping, and my first. The last two years, when Whim brought Bronte to the reaping, I was ordered to stay home and clean the house so that it would be as clean as it possibly could be when they got back. I was used to staying home and cleaning whenever Whim left the house, but it's a different experience, being there by myself and wondering if Bronte will even be coming home.

It would be strange this year, going with Bronte and leaving the house empty while both of our fates were decided. I wasn't sure how to feel about it, but it wasn't as if I had much choice. Skipping the reaping wasn't a choice. Besides, even suggesting such an idea would've gotten us both beaten by Whim. He couldn't have children that might even hint at being rebellious.

Ever since Bronte and I were adopted by Whim, we'd been treated more-so as his servants, rather than his children. My brother and I were both so neglected at this point too, that there were days that I feared Bronte would fall victim to illness.

Getting ready on the morning of the reaping, Bronte's clothing draped over him in a way that made his malnourishment quite clear. His reaping outfit was the same one he'd had since he was twelve— but it fit him when he was twelve. He was fourteen now, but even smaller than he'd been before. He was also extremely sickly. I knew that if he were to go into the Hunger Games, no matter how much I hated to admit it, he wouldn't last long at all.

Granted, I don't think I'd last long in an arena, either. I'm not strong— my bones are quite frail— I could probably be taken down with a slight stronger gust of wind. Still, I'd take Bronte's place in a heartbeat.

Well, if we hadn't made a deal, anyway.

He and I spoke before we went to bed, late in the night before reaping day. We'd made a deal.

"If I get picked, you're not allowed to volunteer for me," I'd told him in a whisper.

"Sergio, I'm your big brother— I'm supposed to protect you," he insisted. The way we always spoke to one another was very matter-of-factly. There was never responses made to reassure one another when promises couldn't be made.

That's why he didn't tell me I wasn't going to be picked like some big brothers might. He couldn't guarantee anything, and he didn't want to break a promise to me.

"I need you to promise me, Bronte. You're not allowed to volunteer. Not for me or for anyone else, okay?" I needed to hear him promise me, because when he made a promise, I knew he meant it.

"Only if you promise me that you won't volunteer either," Bronte reasoned.

There was a moment of silence.

"Alright, it's a deal. I promise." I looked into his fearful, tired eyes.

"I promise too." he said, a weak smile crossing his face. All of his smiles were weak these days. It hurt to see. "It's a deal."

I hugged him tightly.

On the morning of the reaping, I'd gotten dressed into my own reaping outfit. It wasn't any sort of new outfit chosen specifically for the reaping or anything like that. No, Whim didn't ever buy us new clothes unless all of our old ones were completely unwearable. That's to say, he hadn't bought us new clothes in a very long time.

My reaping outfit was a pair of slacks that were too big in the waist, but still not long enough for me, with the end of the pantlegs brushing at a spot on my legs that was quite a bit above the ankle, to a point where there was no hiding that they didn't fit me right. My button-down shirt was a dark blue one that I was practically swimming in. Whim had bought us pretty much entirely just dark colored clothing so that it was harder to stain. He wouldn't have to replace it as soon if it was still somewhat presentable.

Whim did have nicer outfits for us that he would have us wear when he had guests over, but he didn't deem the reaping an important enough occasion to dress nicely for. I suppose the only thing I'd ever agreed with Whim on was that the reaping was a load of shit. Granted, it was for different reasons. Whim thought it was a waste of time and just wanted to skip to watching the Games. I hated the reaping because it meant that the Capitol was rounding up kids to kill in a televised death match.

Then again, he'd never cared about the well-being of children, so it makes sense that he'd enjoy watching the Hunger Games.

Bronte and I were ushered out of the house very early in the morning. Whim wanted to get us to the District Square early enough so that he'd be less likely to be spotted by anyone he knew when arriving there with his two adopted servants that he called his children. He was embarrassed of us. The quicker he could pawn us off with the Peacekeepers, the happier he would be.

As soon as we were checked in for the reaping, it was as if Whim had vanished. Without a goodbye, Bronte and I were left standing by ourselves. My brother and I both had tears in our eyes, nervous of what might be to come. He looked at me and gave me a reminder, despite his own very apparent fear.

"Be the oak."

He and I always said that to each other as a way to remind one another to be strong. We were to be the oak— like the tree that still stands in the middle of the field near our childhood home, despite all the other flowers and greenery that have died around it.

Bronte hugged me tightly. I hugged him back just as tightly.

"Be the oak."

We released each other and headed to where we were to stand for the reaping.

As the crowds filled in and the reaping ceremony began, I could see the most recent victor on stage. I wondered if he was nervous like all of us. Whoever got picked to go into that arena would be tied to him as his responsibility whether they lived or died. I could only imagine the amount of pressure that came with that.

My attention focused back to the more important happening as the first name was read off of the slip of paper pulled from the glass bowl on stage.

"Roland Pierce!"

I knew that name. He was a guy a few years older than me that'd bullied Bronte and I for years, back when we still lived with our parents. I clenched my jaw. No matter how much I hated that kid, he didn't deserve to be reaped for the Hunger Games. No one deserved that. It was such a conflicting feeling, hating someone but still pitying them.

The next name was pulled from the bowl and my heart really started pounding. Anyone but Bronte, anyone but Bronte... I begged silently.

"Sergio Quiverus!"

I suppose that answered my request: it wasn't Bronte.

Instead, it was me. I just hoped Bronte would keep his promise as I made my nervous steps toward the stage.

My heart felt like it was going to explode. I was seeing spots as my anxiety was getting the best of me. I could hardly see, but still somehow managed to get to the stage and found myself facing out toward the crowd. I started whispering to myself under my breath as closing announcements for the reaping were made: Be the oak. Be the oak.

[sergio accepts his place as tribute]
[trib wall x or x]

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umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]
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97th Reaping [District Five] Jun 4, 2024 12:30:14 GMT -5

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Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Jun 4, 2024 12:30:14 GMT -5

Volunteering for DISTRICT FIVE A is now open. Please ensure that you entered the activity check in order to qualify for volunteering. This position will be filled first come, first served. If no one volunteers, the NPC Tributes will remain in the position and be disposed of at the GMs' leisure.

Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favor!

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] Administrator 9,638 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Nov 10, 2024 11:48:08 GMT -5 cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3	97th Reaping [District Five] Jun 5, 2024 13:08:09 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jun 5, 2024 13:08:09 GMT -5 Volunteering is now closed.
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