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

The sun had not even risen all that much in the morning sky, and Kirk's little stall was swamped. A crowd had gathered, though he assumed it was more to watch the debacle that was forming more than for throwing shoes. Sucking his teeth, Kirk rubbed his forehead where a line of sweat was beginning to form under his hat. This needed to solved quickly and peacefully before any authorities decided they needed to step in and "help."

"Yeh Missy, that'll do."He remarked to Teal."Step right up n try." Even as he said that, another boy strode up, looking over the scene questioningly with dark brown eyes. But Kirk didn't have much time to debate the newcomers, he had to keep things moving along smooth-like. The victor reached out a swaddled hand to the stall owner, which Kirk took took gingerly but firmly in a shake. "Mr. Marshall. Just doin' what I've been asked to do," he said, glancing briefly at Kirk. Throughout the whole exchange, Scutcher could be heard mumbling that he would rather have Noreen's nameplate because it was his throw.

"You and I," he said quickly to Kirk,"we're gunna talk more, some time. But it was his throw. If he wants Noreen Lexington's name, that ain't none of my concern." Nodding, Kirk made to grab the plate in question from the rung it hung from. It was a pretty thing, the letters of her name made to look like little flowers and vines were growing out of them, and behind her name in the center, a pair of hands clasped as if in prayer, a smaller almost childlike pair beneath them, from which her token spiraled down.

Kirk kept hold of it as he watched the victor drop enough money to pay for his own throws and then some. "For the man behind me," he said to the stall owner, and then nodded over his shoulder. "Only problem here is how much I'm about to whip you at horseshoes, Oscar." Kirk winced as he saw the bandages turn slightly red while mace threw his first attempt. a miss, to be exact.


Another girl strode up, talking to Mace in an accusatory tone. "Mace, ya ain't gotta be mean to Scutcher, he don't mean no harm. 'Sides whatta ya doin' back here. Missed your face, well kinda."And you" she turned to Kirk behind the booth, batting her eyes "Ain'tcha gonna give him Noreen's name plate. He won it fair and square." Leaning a bit closer she whispered in a voice so low that only he could hear. "Come on, let 'em have it. I'll make up for it later if you meet me behind the horse barn." Marshall blushed and muttered back to her."Gee, miss ya needn't offer that. I wuz gonna give him tha plate ya knew."

Holding her hand out she waited until he handed her the prize, before sauntering away "Come on Scutcher." She called out."'Ave yisself ah nawce day nah."

CLANK

"Well, what d'you know." Kirk spun at the noise, The one Mace had paid for had earned himself a plate, the second person to hit a ringer that day.

"A ringer!"

Kirk gestured towards he plates and fervently hoped that this boys choice of prize wouldn't spark another debate.

Looking at the boy running the stall, Oscar heard his slightly startled words, "A ringer!" He watched as the boy then gestured towards the name plates, offering them to him. He took a look at them, but shook his head. He couldn't take the name plaque away from the tributes family, besides it was obvious the boy was a black smith and Sunny's shoes needed to be redone. But before he was able to say his decision, a girl stepped up to stand by him, turning to grin lightly at him. "Fine horse you have there."

She could have meant any of the four horses he had brought with him, but he knew she meant Sunny. As if knowing he had been complimented, and Oscar was sure he knew, the stallion lifted his head and held himself in a proud manner. Oscar stuck a tongue out at his horse before returning the girl's grin. She had stuck out her hand and was waiting for him to shake it. "Name's Teal." Nodding to her, he shook her outstretched hand warmly. "I'm Oscar." Sunny gave an indignant snort, he rolled his eyes. "And the attention seeking stallion over there is Sunny." A short, rude snort came from Sunny; Oscar just grinned at him.

Turning back to the boy who ran the booth, he gestured towards Sunny. "Instead of a plaque, are you able to redo my horse's shoe? It's time they were done." He glanced at the other three horses' feet, noting that they too could do with a bit of attention. "And I'll pay for the other three to be done as well." He called to Sunny, and watched as the stallion calmly made his way over. The other three horses followed, not wanting to be left behind by their leader. Flicking the reins back over his horse's head, he turned to look back at the boy, hoping that he would be able to help him.

"Instead of a plaque, are you able to redo my horse's shoe? It's time they were done." "And I'll pay for the other three to be done as well." He called to his horse, which came ambling over. Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. "Yisser, I wouldna mind tha. Dem fine hoss ya got. Just step aside then, let this next un have theya throws." The next customer was a blonde gal, not someone he had seen around before. “I got my eyes on that pie,” she said with a smile as she handed her money over. She threw a shoe and landed it within one of the dugout trenches. "I hit sir!"

Pulling a prize down, he handed the blond a plush brown horse, complete with a little white diamond on its head." That youh did. Youh still ave anotha throw ther miss. Might manage to git tha pie."



“Good morning,” Kirk nodded as another gal rode up on a mount. The stall was certainly getting a lot of business, why, he could hardly keep up! The brunette dismounted and paid for her throws, landing yet another ringer that day. Kirk had to wonder if he had put the stakes to close to the throwing line, because this was unbelievable."I did it!" She blushed immediately after exclaiming such, hiding her face with her hat. "Um, sir, I think I... won?"

Kirk tugged at the brim of his own hat.

"Yep. Which plaque woudya like?"he asked with a smile. The victor missed with his second throw, but gave Kirk a look that chilled him to the bone.

Kirk Marshall

The heat of the sun continued to beat down like the first of an angry and ill-tempered god. Now that the hysterics had calmed down, the crowd in front of the stall had settled into an easy, laidback lull. Now that there weren't voices raised in heated argument every five seconds, he could actually hear the dull throb of the many other sounds in the surrounding area of the fair. Somewhere close by, there was the sound of cheering accompanied by the clip-clopping of horses hooves, a tinny voice speaking into a microphone. The sizzling hiss of meat on a grill wafted by alongside the smells of food that was decidedly unhealthy, not that that fact made his mouth water any less.

There were such treats to be had, and he was stuck in his stall for several more hours before he could take a break. The dried jerky in te back would have to hold him over until he could step out. A pedestrian walked by carrying a sugary mountain of powdered funnel cake and his stomach gave an involuntary grumble. Though his eyes then followed someone voraciously attacking a string of sausages wrapped around a skewer, the murmured words of the latest person to get a ringer still managed to reach his ears.

I know you must have worked hard on those she said, but rather then take one of the names, she decided that she would much rather have an ornamented horseshoe instead. Kirk regarded her thoughtfully for a minute, mulling over her request. To be honest, the nameplates had become more trouble than they were worth; they might have done better left hanging over his anvil, where they could be appreciated by passerby and the occasional customer.

The apprentice blacksmith had only wanted to offer a keepsake, a memento. The loss of two young people every year took a far greater toll than the Capitol would ever understand. To those stuffed shirts and their precious career districts, the games were filled with celebrity gladiators, cheap trinkets, gaudy bets and insultingly "witty" commentary. How fun for the ones that had nothing to lose. How could they understand what it meant to see a friends die?

To see a sibling cut to pieces, or to watch them commit atrocities in order to come home. The overwhelmingly desolate feeling of knowing that a loved one would never again grace their family with their presence again. Never again to hold a hand or brush a cheek with their lips. Never to grow older; to have children of their own, or perhaps the most bitter feeling of all, in knowing that the return of a tribute was paid for twenty-three times, only to be rewarded with a shell of a former self.


"Sure yeh kin ave un." Carefully plucking a shoe done in green and blue, with tiny brass bells affixed by chain to both ends. Kirk passed the prize to the girl with a little jangle.Ave yisself fun at tha rest o tha fair nah."Blowing out a dejected sigh, he adjusted his hat and pulled up a stool to sit on; Food sounded good at the moment, he reflected wistfully. But there was ever so much more to do.