56th Reaping [D9]

[Lulu]

The mayor of District Nine 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, "Azalea Fellin!"

[/color] He then reached into the other ball. "Joshua Rowan!"

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]

[Dancin]

I fidget with the stupid white dress my mother made me wear, sure it's pretty and makes me look pretty, but the whole puspose of looking pretty on a day like today is so horribly cruel that I can barely stand it. I grind my teeth as I fit myself in with the rest of the 14's and wait for the nervousness to pay off. The mayor walked across the stage, his anxiousness reading clearly underneath his smile, at least obviously to me.
"Ladies First!" He says, his voice ringing clearly out over the near-silent square. My breathing stops and time slows down as the mayor reaches into the large bowl of girls slips.
"Azalea Fellin," The mayor shouts. Releif. I instantly relax and my breath that I had been holding rushes out of me, similar sounds emenate from other parts of the girls groupings. After the releif has faded some, I feel the guilt at being so releived, that it won't be me to die in that arena this year. It might not be me, but the other girl, who must be making her way up to the stage by now, who must have a family or friends, who must have dreams and a hobby, who must kill, or be killed. I feel so sickened by everything that I have to lean over, and catch my breath. A girl beside me in the 15's nudges me harshly and whispers furiously to stand up, so I slowly straighten. I am at my full height again just in time to hear the mayor say the name of the male tribute.
"Joshua Rowan," There is no releif this time, just the dull misery of the whole ordeal. The name seems familiar, and I think he has come into the store once, which just makes the sadness worse, puts a face and a personality to the name.

[blackdawn]

Everything to change, everything to cease.
But the world tends to turn still at least.

Although she was aware of everything that was rushing around her; the sounds of the tea going off earlier than normality, the frantic hustle and shifting about the house in preparation of the day, the occasional pitiful whimper of Minnie followed by her even more consistent stumbles and collisions, the look in Luke's eyes seemed to trap anyone who dared to look into them; she found herself lost in a different realm, or dimension.
Clinks and chimes seemed to drone, sound came from silence, what was the average basket in the corner yesterday sung more meaning and reflected more essence today. The blue sky was now a bruised purple. The soft grass that often served as the soothing hands that put her to rest in past nights, now resembled the knives that served as the bane of her prey.

The worst of it? Only in my eyes, only in my heart. Even if I like it that way.

In spite of the bond of her family, the one that was tightly wrapped around their fingers and souls, that loomed over them peacefully, as a guardian angel would, there seemed that in the shadow of this morning, nothing could be exchanged, especially comfort.
As the threesome of the children walked slowly, hand in hand to the awful call from Death, that two today at the least would follow, Azalea was thankful that the scene she saw was not spilled into their eyes from her hands, for she stood center. If that were to happen, I would never know how heavily it flowed in their veins.

Some arrive first, and some arrive last,
And yet they all come to receive the same fate.

And such was true by the time they reached the Square. Every head; rich, crude, intelligent, thoughtful, bright, cunning, miserable, great and fallen; they were all mixed today, the one day, and considered all equal. Only one thing, and nothing unique:

Victims.

Two auras would outshine them all today, without any control or true meaning, however. Only sick reason. Like lamb to the slaughter, they were all lined up, separated by age, only age. But as she reluctantly parted from the stands that supported her and feeling the warmth slip away from her body, images clouded her vision and conscious thinking. All else seemed a blur.

Ellie? Are you present?
...Yes, child. And ready to receive your words.
The time has been spent, I've been thinking. Your words are to be followed, El.
But they can not be just followed, dear. You have to drag along your reason too.
Which is exactly what I'm doing.
Good, child.
Oh, and Ellie?
Yes, dear?
I give you thanks.

A smile broke her face. No dear, you are the one worthy of praise.

Like a child's scribbles, the words of the mayor and the ruckus of the horde that remained the building blocks of District 9 came to her. Up until the very last moment. That sincere, but short-lived anxiety and then two, haunted words that brought no immediate reaction from the one whom they were pointed to.

AZALEA FELLIN.

It paralyzed her, but her heart was still a bit out of its reach. She was aware that the many prying eyes of District 9 were searching for the one the words pertained to and was willing to cave into them. Though weights had been thrown onto her shoulders, she rose and parted from the rest of the fifteenth years to claim her difference, and her part. She refrained from hesitantly walking forward to the stand though.

Unfortunately, she couldn't escape the eyes of that young heart that would always, draw her heart in that direction. Minnie's hand reached out for her. She abruptly took it and dared to look into those two oceans that captivated her only too often. "Lea!"

"Remember what I told you, Minnie. By your word and heart."
Awe-struck and paralyzed by grief, the youth released her grip and then pushed back against the crowd again. Only her flowers would comfort her now. At the first step, the male tribute's name rang in her ears.

JOSHUA ROWAN.

She tried not to dwell upon what chains bound him heavily to District 9 as she finally made the journey up to the stand, which seemed to last tendays. Once again, her bonds almost failed her.

"No!"

Luke. Her dearest brother. She turned back to meet his eyes of ice. But she made no reaction. Her words could not move him quite as much, he was too stubborn.
"You should be thankful, Fellin. You'll be rid of that witch for good."
The voice of a former enemy that rose beside her brother. The fire that burned in her eyes was intense, and the orange color seemed to broaden it boundaries. His name had been Derek.

Then came strange happenings. Thoughtlessly boring her eyes into his, the boy's eyes narrowed as well, then widened, as though he really saw the monster behind her. His mouth opened and he gasped for air, fell to his knees and then wrapped his arms around himself, as if for warmth. Azalea let a frightened expression crawl onto her face and she turned her eyes away. The time period this covered only lasted about twenty seconds, before the boy's coughing slowly began to cease and shakily rose again to his place in line. Luke's eyes searched his sister, knowing he was the one who was going to lose today. Then he slowly backed in, remembering her words for comfort.

Don't worry, Luke. Return to your havens. I'm ready to fight with my fate.

(Wow, I think I wrote too much...XD)

[kitsune]

Joshua shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot as the mayor of District Nine began the annual spiel, his bistre eyes flicking anxiously across the crowds surrounding him; though he wasn’t claustrophobic, the surrounding throng made him distinctly uncomfortable. Then again, who wouldn’t be? The minors of the district - every last eligible one of them - were all crammed together near the front of the stage, divided up by age and gender like livestock ripe for the slaughter, and having all of those sweaty, nervous bodies pressing in around you was enough to unnerve anyone. As if mimicking the masses below, dreary clouds the color of unwashed wool were congregating above their heads, muting the already-watery sunlight that tried to filter through. He vaguely wondered what they’d do if it started raining during the Reaping - while it wasn’t going to happen today, surely it had occurred during at least one of the fifty-five Reapings that had preceded this one. It would be impossible to move the entire event inside, but he couldn’t picture them hastily erecting tents or awnings to shield the crowds - that would risk obscuring the cameras’ views, and that was unfeasible. After a few seconds (and about half a dozen sentences in the Treaty of Treason), he’d decided that they probably just let everyone get drenched.

The young man absentmindedly chewed a wad of mint leaves as he contemplated the topic, pressing the verdant pulp against the roof of his mouth. Earlier that morning, his aunt had barged her way into the hovel Joshua shared with his brother, only to find the younger of the pair emptying his stomach into a bucket while his older sibling watched on. This wasn’t an atypical occurrence - Joshua found himself ill on the morning of virtually every Reaping, and two years ago he’d been violently sick enough to be personally excused from attending by a Peacekeeper. This particular morning hadn’t been as agonizing as that one, but it was close; still, his aunt had had no pity for her ailing nephew and had half-dragged him from his repose, growling orders and smacking him every time it looked like his gag reflex was about to win. (In all fairness, that didn’t exactly help in preventing it.) When Joshua had finally stopped looking like he was about to keel over at any moment, she’d all but shoved a handful of mint into his mouth. Apparently it was supposed to calm his stomach, but he’d received the same treatment for the last five Reapings without any results.

This morning, though, something about his aunt’s crude cure to nausea seemed uncharacteristically effective. Joshua was still paler than usual and trembled slightly, but these were all symptoms that would abate in the next hour or so.

He surfaced a moment, only to find that the speech hadn’t quite wound down yet; his lips pressed together tightly in annoyance. They picked two unfortunates to kill off every year - did they have to try to bore everyone else to death as well? At least they were approaching the final paragraph. Josh craned his neck to glance through the crowds around him (anything was more interesting than hearing the Treaty yet again), gaze eventually settling on gaggle of fifteen-year-old boys a few rows back. They were apparently trying to break up the monotony with humor: hands over their hearts, they mouthed the mayor’s words with over exaggerated sincerity. One pretended to wipe away a stray tear. Joshua mentally rolled his eyes at the sight, looking back to the stage and subconsciously pushing his glasses farther up his nose. The reading had finally reached its end; now they could hurry through the main event and get on with their lives.

“Ladies first!” He tilted his head to the side slightly as he listened to the mayor’s bellow, stare shifting from the main attraction to the girls that apprehensively awaited the proclamation. Azalea Fellin? The unfortunate girl’s name didn’t mean a thing to him - didn’t sound the least bit familiar - but the boy standing next to him murmured something in relief; perhaps he’d been fretting over a sister or a sweetheart.

“Joshua Rowan!”

Come again?

His lips parted slightly, as if they were about to release some exclamation of disbelief, but he remained silent and motionless. He should have been stunned. Shocked. Terrified, even.

His only thought was of that one tribute from last year’s Games - Semper Capone - the one that had been hungry enough to eat his own hand.

Joshua took a few halting steps through the crowd before his pace became more even, surprised to find that passing through them was actually quite easy - their guilty relief hung heavily in the air, and a few cringed away from him as if he carried the plague. He swallowed the mint leaves as he walked, somehow making it up the stage without stumbling and taking his place next to the mayor. He was a few inches taller than the other man and used this to advantage, glancing over the man’s shoulder to double-check the slip.

Yep, Joshua Rowan.

The numbness started to break apart, shattering beneath a wave of disbelief. He’d just gone from ‘apothecary’s apprentice,’ someone poor but with a fairly promising future, to ‘walking corpse.’ No future, no career - just a few hours (days, if he was lucky) trapped in an arena trying to keep from being bludgeoned to death. And then, y’know, the actual dying part. On TV. In front of everyone in the country.

Well, hell.

His eyes widened at this realization and he glanced away from the name, gaze shifting to the masses near the back of the Square. His aunt and mother were at the edge of a small group, and though his aunt’s expression was grim she gave no outward sign of grief; his mother looked merely disoriented, bewildered as she plucked at a loose string at the hem of her blouse. He doubted that she would even notice his absence. Roman was near the other end of the Square, his face twisted into a horrified caricature.

Joshua directed his attention away from the faces of his family and searched for something neutral he could stare at until the ceremony was over, something he had no emotional attachment towards, something that wouldn’t rouse the bile roiling at the pit of his stomach. Eventually he settled on the glossy black lens of a camera belonging to one of the numerous crews perched on the rooftops. How many Capitol residents were staring back - a thousand, two thousand, maybe more? District 9 wasn’t a Career factory, but he doubted that any Reaping would be overlooked. What would they make of his apparent lack of reaction? His clenched teeth? The hands curled into fists at his sides? He certainly didn’t look courageous or confident about this unforeseen change of events, but hopefully he didn’t look scared out of his wits. Cowards didn’t get sponsors and were easy targets. He probably looked…

What was the word?

Oh, that’s right - desperate.

---

Joshua Rowan accepts his place as a Tribute of District 9.

[blackdawn]

(Due to some recent 'obstacles' so to speak, I am actually unable to participate in this round of the Games. I am both disappointed and infuriated by this, but I am going to have to step down. I shouldn't be here during the duration of the Games either, but I hope to see the outcome by the time I return. My apologies that this is confusing, especially to you kitsune.

With that... *steps down*
I accept any volunteers.)

[Prince Inigo]

Those wanting to volunteer, please wait for Aya to post saying to start throwing in the volunteer posts. All volunteer posts before her posting saying okay will be disregarded. You may try again after she has done the posting.

Thank you for reading.
-- Luna

[aya]

Volunteering for the District 9 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]

[clovegoodshot]

~Zoe Miller

The Reaping. If I am not Reaped, then I plan to volunteer! A girl is chosen, but she looks really nervous. I don't quite understand her. I wouldn't be nervous. I would be glad to die in the Games. Cause some drama like usual. That would be awesome. That experience would be amazing! I smile. Suddenly, a miracle occurs, and she steps down. This is my chance, my time to shine. Say hello, District 9, to your new Tribute, Zoe Miller!"I VOLUNTEER as a Tribute!"

I scream through the Square. Voices hush, people stare at me. My mother runs up to me and shakes my shoulders, begging me to stay. But no. I walk up to the stage, and stand beside the boy chosen. Our escort walks over to me, and asks my name. This spot is mine, the name I about to say will ring through all of Panem , through every mind. Everyone will think, "Do I know her?", and soon, they all will, when I win the Games.Me."Zoe, my name is Zoe Miller!"

Everyone takes in the name, and considers me. I see old men grin, perves, and I see at least ten people re-writing their betting sheets. Ego boost there. I smile. I do have a good shot. If I can get my hands on the right weapon, then I have a high chance of Victor. The grin on my face widens, to where it almost hurts. My mother is crying. but I look at her and mouth the words,"I will be home soon"

That is my goal at least. If I can get a bow, then these Games are mine! I think of how much I have always wanted this, and now I am getting it. I wonder of the Arena, what they will throw me in to. I breathe heavily. I know I can do this, I know that I can, and that I will do this, that I can and that I will be Victor of the 56th Hunger Games.

I look into the audience at my children. Clove and Riley, and my husband Jasik. They might not have a mother in three weeks, he might be left alone, but no, he has Rosella and Connor whom will help take care of the kids while I compete. My years of archery should help me win. I nod in thanks at Connor when he holds Rosella back from running to me.

A tear runs down my face, a joyful one. If I die, then I am in peace, away from Panem and District 9. If I win, then my family is rich and okay for the rest of our lives, or, their lives, depending on how long I live. A month from now, I might be dead, or I might be the richest person in District 9. I am hoping for the second option.

[/left][/size]

[[Ree]craft]

(Woops. Clove came before moi)

Ember Milan

Breakfast was mechanical. Waking up was mechanical. Everything I did, I did like a robot. I was scared, anxious, and nervous. Who isn't today? It's reaping day. I pause to determine how I feel. The same as usual. Scared. Upset. Determinedly persuading myself it's a dream. Last year was the same. And the year before that. And the year before that.

I remember my first year. I was sobbing when they put me on the platform. I wanted to hold my mother's hand, but they wouldn't allow me to. I was almost on the floor when they the female's name. I finally realized it wasn't me. My mom scolded me for being silly, but I realized two years later she didn't mean it. She was almost as scared as me at being picked. As I got older the fear died down, but today, I wake up, my brow sweating.

I wear the nicest thing I have. A blouse and a blue skirt. Not very nice, but oh well. I wear a gold chain choker around my neck and blue shoes that are a bit small for me. They, were cheap anyway. I make myself tea but I can't swallow it. I'm always this anxious when it comes to the games.

When I arrive in the district square, it's crowded. I'm almost late to get in. I force my way through the crowds and step into the "17, Ladies" section. I wait.

The man makes a speech about the hunger games past, but no one is listening. The man pulls out the girl's paper. Not me. I don't know her.
Thank God.
Thank God.
But then a sudden impulse slips into my brain, and before I can stop myself I say:
"I volunteer."
This impulse seems to have taken over my mind, and I suddenly realize that I want to go, because I think I can win.
"My name is Ember Milan, and I want to go in."
What crazy, wretched, stupid idea have I had?

[Alice Weather]

Im standing there not comprehending what just happened. Then it hit me. "NO" I start running toward the front. Jasik is standing there stunned, he reaches for me but i brush him off and then Connor grabs me and I know i am no match to his strength. He holds me and i start to sob. I see Zoe look at me then Connor, giving a nod of thanks for holding me back i suppose. im totally stunned.

Zoe walks up on the stage and I start struggling against Connor again. What are we going to do? I only have a little bit of money saved up. I couldnt watch this anymore i turn and hug Connor and try to hold him tightly.

[WT]

Because we don't want anyone to have more than one tribute and Clove already volunteered in District Seven (the post is a little ambiguous, but it reads like a volunteering post, so it's being considered one- Clove, please say something on the official tribute list thread if you wish otherwise), the staff has concurred and Luru has confirmed that the D9F spot goes to Ree.

[Cassidyo]

[glow=red,2,300]My first reaping. I sat there with my hands folded in my lap, they were slightly shaking. Really, my whole body was shaking. Chances were, older tributes would be picked, but I still had a fairly good chance of being brought into those deadly games. If I died, Alice would be completely and utterly alone.

I turned my head to glance at little Alice trembling in her seat. I ran a hand over to her arm and felt her calm down a little. "It's okay." Heh, I knew it wasn't okay. I could easily be chosen. Death would fallow that. I tried not thinking about the negative and focused myself on my appearance. My mother left me this dress from her first reaping. I was surprised it fit. What was nice about it was how it seemed to cover up my flaws and made me look beautiful. Most of my dresses were see through on the arms, or just had too short of sleeve. Therefore, you saw my burns. But this one, just seemed to fit just right over the horrible mess of skin left on my arm. Well, the sleeves weren't the only things I loved about it. They color was beautiful. It was a silky white with pale yellow lace and ribbons. My grandmother made it for my mother for her first reaping. It must had cost a fortune.

My attention was brought back on the mayor. He was now speaking. Oh god, please. His voice called out 'Ladies First,' and I tensed. Alice squeezed my hand tightly and closed her little eyes. "It will be okay Ellena." I heard her whisper, and I took her words. I held my breath and waited until her called out the name of the female tribute, It wasn't me. Relief flooded over me. Thank You. I said to myself. The male tribute was announced and Alice and I clapped. We felt so happy right now, but why? Two innocent kids were going to there deaths. Alice wasn't allowed to watch too much of the games, but I was, and I knew how cruel it was. I felt sorry for the two older kids. The boy tribute reminded me slightly of my brother. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed they at least one of them would be okay.

By now, Alice was tugging on my hand, telling me we should go home. I nodded and picked myself up. "Good Luck." I said silently and trotted over earth, back to the direction of my house. [/glow]