#aopreaping

(OOC: This is the last one. It will not delay your upcoming tasks.)

One more. One more reaping, and then the Games can truly begin. I don't doubt that the excitement is showing on my face, a fact that isn't going down too well with the crowd standing in front of the stage. We'd had our female tribute, now it was time for the male. There were definitely some out there who looked like they could handle themselves in a fight. Some who looked like they could take me down. But at the same time, as always, there were the scrawny ones. The underfed. The ones whose odds were not in their favour when it came to making it out of the cornucopia alive. 

 My eyes stare straight forward as I walk towards the square. My sister, Dakota was walking beside me, silent. She was wearing our mother's dress: a soft green color with a white lace around the waist. She pulls her hair down from the delicate bun our mother had put it in and brushes her hair over her right shoulder. I smile slightly. "Mother would kill you if she saw you do that. She spent an hour on your hair, Kota. Besides, don't you want to look nice for the capital?" Dakota shrugs her shoulders indifferently. "I'm not going to dress up for my possible death sentence." She mutters.

 I reach over and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze before filing into my age group. There were a few tense nods, and a few pats on the shoulders, but other than that no one said a word nor moved a muscle. The girl's name is called: Larka Darte. Then the boy's: David Blade.

 I recognized the boy instantly. The twelve year old was small for his age. His left leg was at an odd angle, along with his right arm. He had been sickly ever since I could remember. No one said a word as the crowd parts to let him limp unsteadily through. He suddenly stumbles and falls to the ground. He doesn't make a sound as he gets up and continues to limp up to the stadium.

 He wouldn't last a second in the bloodbath of the games. He could barely walk, much less run. Anger towards the capital builds up within me, and pity towards the boy mixes in with the bottle of emotion within me, threatening to burst.

 What I was about to do would more than likely be suicidal. I take a deep breath, and I take a step forward.

I was almost sad leaving district six. I enjoyed that one, such interesting tributes. I only have one reaping left to attend to today, here in district 8. The textile district. Probably the reason my prep team are so excited to be here with me. I keep having to remind them that there won't be time for clothes shopping, and that even if there was, I doubt it'd quite be up to the quality of Capitol fashion. Unfortunately they don't seem to have understood this all too clearly. My thoughts are interrupted by a voice echoing out over an intercom, telling me it's time. I let out a breath and compose myself. Seeing footage of my district six reaping on the train, I'd decided I looked a little too enthusiastic, so I made a conscious effort to tone it down a little for this one.

I walk through the already-open doors of the Justice Building and approach the microphone. "Welcome to the..." I begin, but realise it isn't working. I sigh and scowl at a peacekeeper who sends someone over to replace it. I try again.

"Welcome to the 85th annual Hunger Games!" I look out over the sea of blank faces, waiting anxiously to find out if they'll be gracing the screens of Panem this year. I go to continue, but hold my breath, deciding to do things differently this time. I don't even know if I'm allowed, but I don't see the harm. It keeps things interesting for the viewers, and the citizens of eight won't be expecting it.

I felt like the room I was currently sitting in: cold and dark and hopeless. Only a bit of light filled the room, the light bulb flickering overhead and peaking through the crack underneath the door. 

The door opened and flooded the room with light once again as my father walked in. My mother was not there. She was not well he told me. She couldn't bare to see me off without breaking down. 

He had taken my hands in his as he said this. They were warm where mine were cold. My face was tilted downward. I didn't want him to see the warm tears rolling down my  cheeks. Placing his thumb underneath my chin gently and pressing my face up, his face seemed ten years older as he spoke. "You'll be fine, my Little Red, you'll be fine."

Pulling his hand away from my hand and reaching for his pocket, he pulled out a chain with a small fox on the end. The pendant I had not seen in years and had seemed to disappear the day he had died. But now it hung there as a reminder of the boy who once had displayed the pin so proudly. There it was strung by a piece of twine, I know, for a day like this. It had been his, Augustus'.

I always enjoy arriving into six. Being the district for transportation, their train station, cars and roads are nearly the same standard as that of the Capitol. Nearly. It makes a nice change from the other districts anyway, some of which apparently haven't mastered the art of laying down a proper road. It's a smooth ride to the Justice Building and, having caught up with the schedule, my prep team has time to work on me this time, and I feel much more confident about facing the cameras.

When the time has come, I motion for a few peacekeepers to join me, and head through the doors and onto the stage. There's a larger square here than in the districts I visited yesterday. The faces are the same, though. Some laughing, safe in the knowledge that they're very unlikely to get reaped, some utterly terrified, knowing the amount of tesserae they've taken out means their name is in the bowl more than their fair share of times. Not that it matters to me, either way.

"Welcome, district six, to the 85th Annual Hunger Games!" I open my arms wide. "It's great to be back, no matter for how short a time it might be. I trust Mayer Star has already read the Treaty of Treason?" I glance over my shoulder to the Mayer, sitting at the back of the stage. He nods.

"Very well! Let's not waste any more time." I walk a short distance to the bowl containing the girls names, and pull out a name. Unfolding it, I'm surprised. The second name... I recognise it. I smirk.. the Capitol's gonna love this. I bring my face close to the microphone, and read out the slip of paper.

The train takes almost no time to get from District 7 to District 5. They're not that far apart, and with the amenities onboard, I'm easily entertained for the trip. Having left District 7 a little behind schedule, I'm rushed from the station to the Justice Building before my prep team even have a chance to make sure I'm in an acceptable, camera-ready condition.

"You're late." The Mayor greets me at the back door to the Justice Building.

"I know. I'm sorry, District 7 overran." I explain, not truly caring if he deems this to be an acceptable excuse or not. He rushes be outside and onto the stage overlooking District 5's square. It's different to seven. The air is thicker, and I can hear a fait buzz of powerplants and electricity lines in the distance. I don't need the condition of the buildings to tell me how much wealthier this district is than seven, but it's still not a patch on the Capitol. I pause for a moment to wonder what it must be like living in a place such as this, but my duties snap me back to reality reasonably quickly, and I realise a sea of faces are staring at me waiting for me to return from my daydream. I clear my throat.

"District 5, welcome to the 85th Annual Hunger Games! I'm definitely excited and I'm sure you are too, so I won't waste much more time. Let's pick our first tribute!" I wait for the applause that never meets my expectations. 'You'd think these districts would be grateful, all we do for them... the least they could do is clap once in a while!' I think to myself. I make my way over to the large bowl containing the girls names, and lower my hand into it. I tease the crowd a little, playing with the slips of paper, before pulling one out and returning to the microphone.

Rowan now stands beside me, and I decide to move on. I notice most of the district's girls have now begun to talk amongst themselves, so I quickly return to the microphone.

"Quiet, please. I know this is exciting but we're only halfway through!" I smile again, though they're starting to feel forced now. I let my mouth return to normal and let my eyes wander across the side of the square where the boys are standing. A few look tough, a few... not so much. District 7 haven't got a fantastic reputation for winners, so I don't let myself focus on who's standing in the crowd too much.

"Boys, I hope you're ready." I announce, and walk over to the boys' reaping bowl. I let my hand hang in there for just a second, before pulling out a piece of paper and returning to the podium.

I'm sitting in the Justice Building foyer when I'm told it's time by their head peacekeeper. I don't bother to learn their name - it doesn't matter to me. I'm only here to collect my tributes. I stand up and walk towards the heavy doors, any talking in the crowd coming to an abrupt halt as I push them open and step towards the podium. My eyes scan the crowd.

"Good morning, District 7!" I let out a smile, genuinely happy to be here. I do love reaping day. "I can see you're all ready for the big event!" I try and sound enthusiastic, despite the fact that they're clearly not. "Ladies first, if that's okay!"