[D9] The Reaping

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aya
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"GUNNERRRRR~"

[D9] The Reaping Jan 30, 2016 0:17:21 GMT -5

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Post by aya on Jan 30, 2016 0:17:21 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, "Delta Castley!" He then reached into the other ball. "Timothy Feldon!"

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 2nd, 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.

{characters}

certified kindergartener
stranded in "beach" "city"
leader of the crystal gems

gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕
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basically miss america

[D9] The Reaping Jan 30, 2016 12:19:59 GMT -5

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Post by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕ on Jan 30, 2016 12:19:59 GMT -5

There's gentle tugs on my hair, it's soothing almost, almost makes me forget where I am. Then there's a series of rough pulls, waking me from my daze. I try to move my head, to relieve the pain, but I can't move, not even an inch. "Um, ow?" I say, trying to look up at her, but she immediately straightens my head out. "Oh stop being a baby," she says as she continues her braiding. "I'm done anyway," and the restraint on my head loosens and I finally stand. I run over to the mirror, mostly to see if I can pass as acceptable. I can see her roll her eyes in the back of the mirror. "You're gorgeous, you don't need a mirror,"

Lies.

"Well that's only because of you," I say, turning to face her. She walks up to me and begins running her hands over my dress, smoothing out all the wrinkles, even the minuscule one. Example number two. "Yeah, that's true," a small smile begins to find its way onto her lips and I can't help but laugh. And before you know it the room is filled with our laughter, both in harmony, filling the room with joy on such a joyless day. Father walks by, probably attracted by the sound and looks in. As soon as he sees it's me mouth deforms into a hard line and his eyes narrow. I stop almost immediately, staring back, questioningly. His hatred for me is clear on his face. It doesn't take long for Sigma to realize that I stopped laughing before she stops as well. With a final glare he's off. 15 seconds. He stood there for 15 seconds and turned the room back into silence.

Silence.

The wind blows through the crowded district square, and it's so quiet that you can hear the rustle of each individual leaf. The silence is deafening, and it seems to grow quieter as a hand reaches into the first glass ball and moves around. Slowly, seeming to touch each piece of paper individually, looking for the one that burns, looking for that one special individual that will give them the best show. His fingers finally latch onto a piece of paper and raises it from the rest. Sharp inhales are heard from all around, praying that they might escape death for another year. My eyes close slowly, waiting. Just this last one. This last piece of paper and I've officially escaped hell. "Delta Castley!"

I guess not everyone is meant to go to heaven.

My breath catches in my throat and I can feel the stares of a million eyes cast upon me. I do not run, I do not scream. I stand there, frozen. One more, I only had to survive one more. How can I be so unlucky? But then again, luck has never been on my side. I must be standing there too long because before I know it there are two sets of arms, grabbing me on both sides, dragging me towards hell. I turn around, looking for a familiar face, something that will keep me going. I'm able to see Sigma, her mouth open in shock, silent tears streaming down her face. My other siblings are lost in the crowd and my feet are still being dragged so I have no time to look. I'm almost at the stage when I see them, my parents. Sobs rack my mom's body and she's barely able to stand. I can tell that it's taking everything in my father not to smile. He's finally able to get rid of me, I'm sure he's been begging for me to be reaped for years. To find a way for me to be silent. Well he's finally got his wish. I will be silent forever soon. He will get what he's always wanted. But I won't make it easy for him. No, I will make him think that there's a chance that I'll make it back. A chance to be his reminder for a few more years. A chance that I'll never truly leave him. A chance that I'll come home.

We've reached the stairs and I feel the Peacekeeper's grip loosen. My muscles seem to be functioning again, and I slowly make my way up the stairs. I'm still unsure if I'm breathing yet, but there's no time to think about that. I turn and face the crowd, my mouth in a straight line, my face void of emotion. So I stand there, waiting. I do not cry. I do not collapse. I do not speak. I'm not sure if I could, even if I tried.

Maybe I'm meant to remain silent.

table inspired by rook
rave owns my soul for this

[ooc: delta accepts her place as tribute]

Last Edit: Jan 30, 2016 12:24:57 GMT -5 by gamemaker sloane ♕ kaяi ♕

❝ moon dust in your hair, stars in your eyes ❞

✨ zozo.
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bloomtodeath

[D9] The Reaping Jan 30, 2016 18:46:58 GMT -5

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Post by ✨ zozo. on Jan 30, 2016 18:46:58 GMT -5

never regret thy fall,

oh icarus
of the fearless flight.

He sits on the rooftops 'til dawn and the sun says good morning

(goodbye)

and as he falls to the ground (feet first, always) and lands on the pavement it follows him like a shadow all the way home.

The murderer waits for him by the door as he combs his hair back, pulls on his best jacket, ties up his shoelaces and washes every trace of himself from his reflection. Purple crescents hang heavy beneath his eyes and the morning light glistens in his hair. There was no point trying to sleep last night - he never can. Not on these nights when the district lies awake paralysed by fear, caught someplace between a nightmare and the grasp of death.

At seventeen he's learnt to scrub up as a father's prodigy on the days he needs to, but this day is the worst of all. They walk side by side in the crowds of the damned, pretending that the ghost lingering between them isn't haunting their every word, their every step, their every movement. If he were alone, Timothy would return to the sky and watch the world from a distance, comfortable in his world above the streets and underneath the clouds.

He wonders if after today, he'll become just like his mother.

Dead.

He wonders if after today, he'll become just like his father.

A killer.

The murderer departs with a pat on his shoulder and useless words like "okay" and "fine" and "see you soon". Timothy nods, insides on fire, heart aching to get up and soar away to anywhere but here. People do not cast their eyes toward him when he is up there. They're too busy with the world around them to look up and see a boy sprinting across the horizon. Their gazes make him uncomfortable so he looks down at his feet, the concrete below him, and the crack in it that spreads below underneath the feet of the crowds.

Above, grey skies cloud his vision.

Amongst the silence, two names ring out across the universe as soldiers of the dead.

Their gazes do not leave him. He looks up.

Below, a flock of birds take flight - Timothy with them.

. . .

[ credit - briar ]

ooc; timothy accepts

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”