#ryderstarter

Honestly even without the who "you're a demigod thing" they dumped on him when he arrived here, Ryder still hadn't gotten over the fact that this is where his father had been hiding out for the last few years. All he'd been told by the elder Brinkman was that there was some "mission" that needed his expertise, and contact would be minimal if non-existent. Fine by Ryder. He hated how much his father doted on him to the point of smothering... until he found himself missing the man.

Life was so much easier when he was a normie working the drive-thru counter. But then destiny had other plans...

Which was why he found himself skinny-dipping in the lake after midnight. Much-needed stress relief, gosh!! Luckily he found someone he was able to coax into doing this. Gods forbid he spend some time alone, with his own thoughts and no additional stimulation. Ew.

“How the fuck does he not find me attractive? I’m far better looking than ninety percent of this whole city!”

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.