56th Reaping [D3]

[Lulu]

The mayor of District Three stepped out onto the stage, a smile plastered across his face as he stared into the cameras that surrounded the stage. 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 his 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, "Brigit Switch!"

[/color] He then reached into the other ball. "Gerrard Menderson!"

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 midnight site time on Tuesday, September 7th, a staff member will post saying that volunteering is open. Please do not post until you see this staff message. FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE.

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...-evil laugh- It's not a requirement, but please please please just consider the lessons. They'll help even the most advanced RPer. [/blockquote][/size][/justify]

[[Ella] -- gone until 10/25 D=]

OOC: (edit) Past tense. All of my Games posts will magically turn into past tense, since my knowledge of RPing in present tense is of a 2-year-old's. D=

Life
will flash before my eyes
so scattered and lost

gerrard menderson.

[/color]

This is when it begins.

I flex my fingers slowly, watching the move with an almost hungry expression. My parents are nowhere to be found--they're probably already at the district square. Well. That's good, isn't it? I don't want them to see my shaking, or my pale face. I don't want them to see anything but their usual, stoic son. The one who can't seem to understand his emotions at all.

Until now. I know that the thing I was feeling--this strange, raw sensation that feels like it's eating away my chest--are nerves. This is a first, though. In my previous Reapings, I have never felt this way before. Is it some kind of foreboding then? Karma, perhaps? Karma for being who I am? I shake my head and let out a deep breath. Instinctively, my feet walk forward until I am being carried forward as well. Time to get this over with.

Outside, it's a perfect September. It's cruel though, to see the green leaves and dark foliage--the stuff that the pollution in the district hadn't corrupted yet. I breathe it in just to remember it, to still my trembling. I try to think that I'm not going to the Reaping, that I'm just taking a perfect morning walk instead. Nothing big. Nothing too important.

And although I try to linger back as much as I can, I still find my feet speeding up, as if they want to deliver me to my death. Sure enough, it takes me only mere minutes before I end up at the district square. And the mayor--he was already up on the stage, his smile fake and stiff, but all about politics all the same. I feel my hands curl into fists when I see my parents, but I don't bother going to them. Instead I take a small spot in the back of the large crowd, trying to slow my breathing.

It doesn't take too long before the Reaping begins.

By tradition, the mayor starts with the girls. My eyes follow his hand slowly as it reaches inside the glass ball, pulling out the small slip of brown paper. It's a girl, I keep on telling myself. And yet I can't help but feel lost and sweaty all the same. Lost and...another emotion I can't describe.

"Brigit Switch," the mayor says. Brigit Switch. I'm sure the words had been loud, but I'd heard them as a whisper. He reaches inside again and draws out yet another piece of paper. By now I curl a hand on my face, feeling the pulse there, wondering why I'm feeling this way.

"Gerrard Menderson."

For awhile, all I do is stare unblinking at the stage. But then once again my feet are the ones that betray me; they carry me up, carry me beside the mayor. I don't say anything because there aren't any shouts from volunteers. There aren't any shouts even from my parents, although I can see their panic-stricken faces. What will happen to the Games if there is a pyromaniac? Something big, maybe. Maybe the Capitol will love it.

Maybe that's why I say, "I accept," in a perfectly stoic voice. In a voice that delivers nothing but words. Because I'm feeling nothing again, and that's all I can do to keep the alexithymic side of me from disappearing.

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[jimmylost]

Like most the high class of District three Brigit spent hours on her reaping outfit, which being in one of the lower numbered districts recwired getting up at five in the morning. The washing up alone took a full hour, even if Brigit doubted she was very dirty but took the time to scrub herself down thoroughly. Of course most of that time had been dedicated to her hair, the golden mass didn't lie flat even when wet. After washing she began applying her make-up, not to heavily of course, just enough to bring out her eyes and add some colour to her already pale cheeks. She shook a bit as she held the stick of mascara, constantly reminding herself that this was all just in case.

Just in case. Just in case she stood as she did now in the floor length purple and blue dress roped off with the other fifteen year old females. She was dressed in her finest complete with silver shawl, headband, heals, and purse, just in case. Just in case when the Mayor reached his hand into the ball containing four copies of her name, just in case that slip of paper in his hand was one of those four.

“Brigit Switch”

Just in case that happened.

Brigit keeps her head high as she walks forward. Only her legs shake ever so slightly, but they're hidden by her long dress. Of course that's not the only thing that's hidden beneath the flowing fabric, every single invention she's ever kept for herself is hidden somewhere on her person. A tradition she started back when she was twelve, just in case.

She figits with the signal damper/ring on her finger wishing for it to be strong enough to disrupt the cameras all around her. She doubts it, she's never gone up against capitol tech before, she's not sure if she could. The thought makes the shield of home-made gadgets feel like junk to her, nothing that could stand against the capitol. They'll take it all away anyway, how is she supposed to fight without her weapons?

An image of her gripping a comically large spear invade her mind and she almost laughs out loud. After a brief moment she does, she's not a fighter. The thought that The Capitol would even think that she stood a chance was ridiculous. She wouldn't win, that thought turns her laughter into hysterical gasp as her eyes tear up. How had she never seen this before, her fathers company left without an heir, that was the easiest way to bring it down. This over complicated plot was cut through with a single piece of paper.

Of course that wasn't looking at the big picture, she had to take the rest of the D3 elite (less the victor families of course because they more then earned there wealth) down with her. No she had to live, the only problem was the added guilt of knowing a career would take her place. Well who's fault was it that she had to be acquainted with every 'future victor' in the district. It was almost enough to make her falter, to make herself stand strong and enter the arena regardless.

Brigit looked out over the crowed, ready to accept, but the slight hesitation was enough of a window to allow a voice from the crowd access. Brigit's eyes searched the crowd for her volunteer, her saviour.

[noraeltrain]

Nora shook her head, the previous day's incident still fresh on her mind. She looked at the girl on the stands.

"I'll do it."

(OOC: Sent you a PM, not sure if you got it...)

[Prince Inigo]

Hey, noraeltrain. The actual volunteering will be on the 8th at 12AM (midnight). The acceptance/decline for Tribute status is done by the 7th. Please volunteer on the 8th.

Also, anyone wanting to volunteer MUST post a two-paragraph RP post of DECENT LENGTH. Meaning no really short sentences, poor quality RP post, etc.

Your post has been disregarded for it met none of the criteria and was not on the date.

Thank you for reading.

-- Luna

[gm bourgeois decadence [aya]]

Volunteering for the District 3 Female spot is now open. Volunteers will be accepted in the first-come, first-serve manner, and must have posted in the Pre-Games Activity Check. Members may not have more than one tribute competing at a time.

Please note that any instances of gloating, taunting, flaming, swearing at, etc directed at members because they either did or did not manage to get the spot they were after will not be tolerated, and will be met with banhammering.

[/blockquote]

[cameron]

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[/color]

[/center]

For the first time since the previous Reaping, Luyu left the psychiatric ward and inhaled the sweet, polluted air of the third district. Thick smog from the numerous factories filled the morning sky, and Luyu gazed in amazement - not at the sky, in particular, though; but at the fact that if she were to set the smog on fire the sky just might explode. Oh, fire was such a beautiful and luxurious thing to her. She was constantly dreaming of its wondrous flames and heat. Flames and heat that she wanted to create. Yes, Luyu longed to produce an incredible inferno, craved to ignite a conflagration throughout the entire district. But, to Luyu's dismal dismay, that could never occur. The doctor's did their duties and deemed fire inappropriate for a girl as infinitely infatuated as she was. There was no way she could ever grasp the marvelous materials that manufacture fire.

Unless, of course, she was Reaped in the 56th Annual Hunger Games. Then and only then would there be a chance she might be able to start her very own fire, the substance she had dreamed about for four years relentlessly.

She could almost taste the fire as she stood in the Sixteens area. Two hospital security guards were clamped on to her arms; but she didn't notice. The only thing she could think of was the chance to burn something, anything, in the Arena.

She fidgeted impatiently as the mayor read through the usual history of Panem. She wanted this - wanted her life to be this. She had never really had a life, after all. She could only remember the past four years and her longing her the heat of fire. Each of these years, she had attempted to volunteer for the Games; however, before she could ever get the words out of her mouth, the guards would take her back to the psych ward.

But this year would be different.

And then the time came for the Tributes to be Reaped. As always, it was ladies first. And, depressingly enough, the name did not belong to Luyu Nimmons. But, it did belong to a frail looking girl who did not seem to particularly want to go into the Arena. It was rather obvious to Luyu that the girl would die easily, most likely in the Bloodbath. And, as if she was the girl's guardian angel (when in reality Luyu was only being selfish,) Luyu jerked out of her security guards holds and ran towards the stage.

[/color]
"I, Luyu Nimmons, proudly volunteer." The girl beamed and turned to the crowd, grinning at the number of faces in awe at her actions.
[/blockquote]
Luyu acted as if there were periods between each word in her next sentence ; and, her last word was spitten with venom. Them. The Capitolites. The ones who had caused so many innocent deaths for fifty five years.[/color]"And I will burn them all to the ground. Every last one of them."

And then, in a slightly symbolic way, she spoke once more.

"Luyu Nimmons will not be one of them."

And in between the moon and you, angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.

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[jimmylost]

Brigit saw the girl running for the stage, her only hope was a volunteer. There she was her only hope and a couple of men where attempting to remove that hope from her. Well Brigit couldn't have that.

She had yet to field test an actual weapon of her creation. That was little more then a hesitation as she sent the two darts, no bigger then pins, from the bangle on her wrist towards the two men. Each contained enough tranquilizer to drop both of them immediately. This was all in less then a second, and hopefully with very few people noticing. Brigit wasn't so optimistic to think she would have gotten away with something so clear in front of so many people and cameras. Her cover was essentially blown, maybe, hopefully not.

"I, Luyu Nimmons, proudly volunteer." says the girl when she reaches the stage. Brigit gives her a friendly smile containing more respect then she would have shown someone in normal circumstances. "And I will burn them all to the ground. Every last one of them. Luyu Nimmons will not be one of them."

Brigit stepped off the stage to allow the girl, Luyu, to take her place. She was immediately faced by her father. What she expected was a stern speech about how she had lost her composure up there. What she got was a hug. Any other time she would have just stood there until he stopped hugging her and then move on like nothing had happened. Today she accepted the hug.

But only today, tomorrow I will be back on form.

"We're going to support her aren't we father?" she says into his shoulder.

"With everything we have if we must" he responded solemnly.

[sbeeg]

Mahlah Shea

From her position at the back of the crowd in the 12-year olds pin, Mahlah could hardly see the small mayor of District 3. She was up on her toes, trying to see past the larger children, fingers crossed behind her back. The girl was not listening to the rambling that was yelling at her through the speakers. She was biting at her lip, hoping beyond hope that the odds were in her favor.

Suddenly the mayor's slight frame crossed to the large Reaping ball. Sweat beaded up on the young girl's forehead and she strained to see above the tall heads that separated her from the stage. It might sound crazy but this little girl wanted to be reaped. She had things to prove and she certainly could not convince anyone of anything being stuck up in District 3. A brief image of blood swirling in the water of the 55th Games flashed in Mahlah's brain and her teeth broke the skin of her lip.

Snap.
Snap.
Snap.

I have something to prove. I have to stay strong.

Brigit Switch! Not Mahlah Shea. The small girl slumped from her stretched out position to a lump leaning against the fencing of her pin. It was not her. It was her first Reaping after all, but she had tried too hard to be disappointed like this. Mahlah bet that this Brigit girl did not even want to go to the Games.

Mahlah had to show her mother, her father, her teacher and the entirety of District Three that she could hold her own weight. That she could work through her problems. That she was strong. Her only opportunity for that is the Games.

What if I never get the chance? What if I am always thought of as extra baggage?

The young girl let her dark hair fall into her face, shielding her from the cruel outside world; her fingers twirling up in the lace lining the edge of her skirt. Just as the tears began to blur her vision she heard it. The speaker mounted on the pole above was silent. Strange. Mahlah jerked her head up examining the stage. The girl, Brigit, was gazing out at the crowd. Even from this distance Mahlah knew what she was looking for.

Don't be afraid to...

Stand up.

"I volunteer!" Mahlah screamed as loudly as her body allowed. She yelled the phrase over and over as she tumbled out of her pin and sprinted to the stage. Out of breath, she stopped in the path way, her Reaping clothes sticking to her body with sweat. "I... volunteer."

Looking up Mahlah saw another girl on the stage. In Brigit's place. In her place. The young girl could hardly believe it. Her voice had not been loud enough for anyone to hear, or take notice of. This girl who had been closer to the stage and had a stronger voice was going to the Games now.

I lost my chance... I lost it.

Someone took Mahlah by the forearm and started towing her out of the path way and a wave of fresh tears blurred out the faces, for which Mahlah was grateful.

Snap.
Snap.
Snap.

I lost my chance.

Snap.
Snap.
Snap.

Will I get it back?