98th Reaping [District Eight]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Reaping, in possession of the promise of good fortune, must be in want of a strong girl.

I find all of the preparation to be trivial and a mild annoyance at best. Lyds and Catt are fighting over which dresses to wear. Kat is saying that she should wear the dress Lyds wants to present herself in because Kat made it, why Lyds is saying that it looks better on her instead. Moira continues to silently read on the front patio, almost as if Lyds and Catt are not even there. I almost envy how she remains unflappable, yet her stoicism is excessive. Mother has already tried to get her hands on me, but she knows that I am not inclined to present myself for the whims of others. I think that Mother tries so hard with me because Janae has already grown past the age of eligibility, and can no longer gain the family favor with the Capitol in the way of presenting them with a Victor. As is our District has never been known to provide much of those to begin with. It's the reason why Theo is given the royal treatment, to begin with, and with Shelby having hidden away from the public eye, it's not like the District has much hope to hold onto when it comes to that regard. It's probably for the best that Janae was never Reaped, her soul is far too kind to survive in a feat such as the Hunger Games.

I peer through the window to my father's office, making eye contact with him as I can hear the bickering continue through the open front door. I decided to avoid that particular scene when I came back from my run through the District. He greets me with an eye roll, and we can't help but smirk at each other. He never partook in the histrionics that overtook my mother, which bled slowly into my two youngest sisters. They are always so willing to buy into the fantasy that being married will afford them success. And while I do not deny that I have witnessed some marriages lead to true happiness, my parents are not an example of that. Their marriage is only one factor in the whole of why I refuse to parade to my mother's whims of me being married. For you see, she does not recognize how the District has grown. Our District has been afforded luxuries that we have not seen for generations. And more than an abundance of opportunities for one to make a living outside the inconvenience of a man.

I make my way through to the back of our house, the volume of my mother and two younger sisters can still be heard as if they were standing right next to me. Their lack of decorum is entirely unbecoming, and to be frank I quite agree with my father when he calls Kat and Lyds two of Panem's silliest girls. Janae is already waiting for me when I make my way up to the landing of the second floor.

"Have a good run, sister?" she asks as she gives me an embrace. Her tone has an edge of concern though.

"Of course," I reply earnestly. "What troubles you so?"

"I'm always worried during the Reaping, you know that." She replies as she ushers me into my room.

"That is true my dear sister," I acquiesce. "But why are you so fretted this year?"

"I'm not quite sure," she admits. "There is something in the air that doesn't sit quite right in my chest. It feels as if it's straining to contain a part that is breaking off, no matter how hard I try to hold onto it."

"How somber of you, dear sister," I say with a hint of jest as I freshen up.

"I know you tease, and for good reason." the smirk evident in her voice. "I know I have nothing to worry about. But it is still troublesome every year."

"While I understand your concern, I think you should be more concerned about helping father calm Mother's nerves." We both laugh at that, finding a moment of levity before I get ready for the day.

I particularly find my more modest dress most appropriate for the occasion, however my mother has fervently disagreed. She wishes that I dressed more lavishly. I have given my mother a moment of peace for her nerves by wearing a thinly veiled headdress that compliments the floral patterned white dress fit for the season. A somber occasion such as this sacrifice is hardly one where one can find a decent man worthy of marriage. Yet it seems that any moment where all of the District is together is a most opportune time to go hunting for a respectable man. At least the weather is most agreeable for the summer months. It will already be a sweatbox standing in the sea of other children my age. This is my seventh summer standing in the Square, waiting like cattle to be called to the slaughter. The fact that the Mayor joked about Theo signing cards has done nothing to ease the tension that permeated the air of the Square speaks volumes about the attitude of the District toward the Games.

The stillness that blankets the District is deafening as the graveness of the situation sinks into the bones of the people. The escort seems to have the read of the pulse though, and steps up to the microphone, easing the impatience of the people. His introduction is short and to the point before pulling out the first name out of the bowl, and calling out a name that chills me to my core.

"Izzabel Bennet"

It turns out my sister had a right to be worried. How she could have foreseen this I do not know, but I wish I took her moods with more prudence. I do not even comprehend the second name that the escort calls out, for the only thing I can hear is my mother wailing as I take my steps out of the pen and up the central aisle toward the stage. I can only imagine that this is not the aisle that my mother had envisioned seeing any of her daughters walking down, but it is the one I now tread. For you see, I have been chosen as this year's sacrifice. I refuse to be anything but though. I have been called hardheaded, proud, and almost sardonic, I will show the Capitol what it means to be truly independent.

OOC - Izzabel Bennet accepts her position as District 8 tribute