[95th] The Reaping - District Twelve

[gm bourgeois decadence [aya]]

"It is time," the Escort said as they 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!"

They did not look to see the reaction of his district before reaching into the glass ball that held the names of the children. "First up," the Escort announced, pulling out a slip of paper. They unfolded it and read out to the crowd, "Roe Daniels!" They then reached into the ball again, selecting another name. "Marik Shadow!"


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, October 3rd, 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.

[calla]

R O E

First rule of the Reaping - don't you dare talk about the Reaping, don't you fucking do it, don't you dare.

He jinxes himself halfway in, rocking back on his heels, flicking the lighter in his pocket and staring at the nasty mole on some other guy's neck, man wouldn't it be nuts if - ?

Yeah it would be, you stupid idiot. It would be nuts.

Varan starts laughing before the escort's even finished reading the name out.

And maybe it would've just been easier to keep his head down, to draw less attention to himself, or maybe it would've even been easier to convince the crowd that they had the wrong guy. It's not like anyone would notice - no one was even looking their way yet. Twelve isn't like One where some tween-age celebrity gets called on and the entire crowd knows exactly who they are and where they're standing and all the cameras immediately zoom in to get their montage-perfect reaction.

The point is, there were a lot of options here.

And Roe, being of sound mind and of poor judgement, decides to take the worst option, and he turns around and runs.

You can probably guess that he doesn't get far.

There's a row of Keepers three deep along the back end of the square and a dozen more dispersed like thumbprints through the smudged oil painting of the crowd. One of them gets lucky and shoots an arm out just as he tries to dash by, their forecep colliding directly with his windpipe and clotheslining him hard enough that he stumbles back and has to windmill through it, choking on nothing but his own damaged pride - "FUCKING- shit-"

He dodges the first pair of hands just to lurch right into the second. It's like some messed up kind of tango happening out in the far eastern corner, tens across the board if you're into that sort of thing.

The closest camera swivels to catch his fist clipping against the edge of a helmet - “No- get off me, get the fuck away from me.” - a gloved hand grabs him by the scruff and starts to drag him spitting and hissing back through the quickly-getting-the-hell-out-of-the-way rows.

Stupid little street rat, finally getting flooded out. None of those back alley circus tricks work here. No 'gee mister won't you let me shimmy the matchbook out of my shoe and gargle some of that low-grade whisky in your flask so we can put on a real show? If I do it good enough will you let me go? No? Well, what if I slip you twenty bucks instead?'

No crying family, no brave volunteers; it takes three of the bleached bastards to finally keep him down on the ground.

He gets his face shoved down into the gravel, squirming, then he's hauled back up and shaken like a kitten. They get his feet up on the stairs, and then up on the stage, and then when the escort tries to very pleasantly hold the mic up to his mouth he just screeches into it loud enough that the feedback squeal makes everyone jump for cover. He's only allowed to be smug about that for a second before the reinforcements come.

But don't they know that he straight up does not want to die? Hello?

This seems like a normal response.

He's vibrating up there, arms twisted behind his back because they can't trust him not to tackle the poor escort reaching shakily for the second name.

"Cut it out." The Keeper holding him snaps, voice just slightly modulated in the way that they always are from behind those helmets.

"Yeah, eat shit."

Roe snaps his head back and can't tell if the resounding crack that follows is from the plastic or from his skull.

ELEGANT

roe sure doesn't accept but he's going anyways <3
wall

[Cato]

A knock on the door and the creaking is the rusted hinges force me awake as my sister enters my room. Most of the time I would be angry at her, but today is different. We've developed a pattern, a routine of sorts, and the only morning she's allowed to do this is the day of the reaping. This day is always terrifying because I never know what's going to happen, and I'm always afraid of losing the one I care about most. I turn and face her motioning for her to come inside. We have this mutual understanding that today our relationship is the best it's ever been, but at the same time, we both understand it can only take us so far. "I know you don't normally like this, Marik, but at least you allow it today." I sort of nod my head as she speaks, and then I roll over in bed. "Mom has made breakfast. She's waiting in the kitchen." Mom is a pretty good cook, and she's learned to make do with what we have, and I assume that everyone here has learned to do the same.

"Oh, good, you're awake." I nod my head as I take my place at the table. We used to have four chairs here, but mom has moved one of them since we no longer need it. I help myself to some bread and it's always the best tasting, and it's amazing that it's never tasted the same as the previous bread. Mom gets me a glass of water and hands it to me. It's nothing much, but this is perfect today. I have nothing to worry about, yet I always find the need to somehow protect my family. "Thanks for breakfast." I finish off the bread before heading back to my room, but mom stops me before I can get any further. "I have an outfit for today if you'd like to wear it." For a moment, I'm completely caught off guard. She's never offered this before, but I nod my head and follow her to her room. "This was your dad's. I think you're at the age you can fit it now. I've been holding onto it." My heart sinks, but I take the outfit and hold it in my hands. "Thanks, it's perfect."

I head back to my room and change into my father's outfit, and I feel his presence with me. I try to catch my reflection in the window, but it doesn't do any justice. This fits perfectly, and knowing that mom held onto this for me makes me feel somewhat happy. I just refuse to let myself smile. It's been so long, and I only care about my life in the moment. I walk to the living room where my mom and sister both greet me with a huge smile. "Dad would be proud of the man you've grown into, Marik." My sister runs up to me and gives me a hug. She's always been a huge supporter, and she's helped me in more ways than one. "He would be proud of you too." I don't know how true it is, but sometimes fibs have to be told to keep someone's spirit alive, and I will never crush that of my sister. Her spirit is very much alive while mine is dead. I look at mom and she opens the door and I follow her out. Sometimes I'm afraid, and today is one of those days.

Once at the district square, I check in and move next to everyone else that's my age. I close my eyes long enough for everyone to file in, and then I open them as the first name is called. I watch as the first person goes to the stage, and then I feel the anticipation becoming stronger. Maybe I'll find the freedom. Maybe this is the time I go home and celebrate - "Marik Shadow!" My heart leaps into my chest, and I can hear my sister starting to panicking a bit. She's never been good at controlling her emotions. I make my way to the stage, and in this moment, all I want is the chance to run away. The Capitol has a firm grasp around me, around everyone really, but I will escape. The mask is heavy. The burden is one I can't really carry alone, but I will find away. It's all I know how to do right now. I take my place and keep my face clear of emotions. Fear will devour people, and I refuse to let anyone bring me down.

Marik Shadow accepts d12 spot