[D8] The Reaping

[aya]

The escort of the district stepped out onto the stage, a smile plastered across his face as he stared into the cameras that surrounded it. 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 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!"

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, "Cecilia Brontz" He then reached into the other ball. "Ezero Laffan!"

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, February 2nd, 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.

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.. It's not a requirement, but please please please just consider the lessons. They'll help even the most advanced RPer.

[Kire]

Chapter 2
The Reaping

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In This Chapter
⊳ Getting ready for the reaping
⊳ Common emotions during the event
⊳ Hearing your name
⊳ The walk to the stage
⊳ Entering the Justice Building
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The Reaping is an event held once per year across Panem as the beginning of the Hunger Games. During each reaping, the populous of each District gathers in the town square and witness the drawing of two names from a pair of glass bowls. Adults and young children line the edges of the square while those of reaping age stand in closed off areas facing an erected stage. All citizens are required to attend the reaping.

Manner of Dress

As a Capitol-enforced event, the Reaping is viewed as highly formal and as such the dress for such an occasion is meant to reflect that. Each person must dress in their best clothes and demonstrate their best hygiene - those of reaping age in particular must look their best for the sake of those watching. Often there is a sort of ritual involved with getting ready, generally involving as many family members as possible. A sense of dread usually hangs over everything as everyone knows that two people will be taken to the Capitol.

My mother pressed my clothes this morning. They sit on my bed, not a wrinkle to be seen, and all I can do is stare at them. One of her friends had made them, a gift for me to celebrate the last year that I would be in the reaping. I could use them for times when I needed to be more fancy after this, when I wouldn't have to worry about them being the last things I ever put on in this room. I touch them with a hand, my fingers running over the finely stitched threads and the delicate embroidery of an open book that had been stitched into each lapel. They felt too precious, to expensive, and too filled with love to be worn to something that was cruel, dangerous, and dark.

I took my time dressing, doing my best to keep from creasing the smooth fabric. Something ritualistic came over me, like I was in the middle of a send off or some custom as old as time. In a way, I supposed the act of dressing for the reaping was a custom by this point, after seventy-one years of it. This would be the seventy-second time that twenty-four children were sent into hell, and this would be the seventy-second time that one would somehow come back alive.

Standing in the mirror, I can't see myself as I normally do. I look alien, overly dressed and pompous for a boy whose name is in that bowl more than enough times to worry about. If this feeling of being on the other side of a glass wall could stay until I was back home at the dinner table then I might be alright. I wasn't counting on it.

State of Being

There are many ways a person can feel during the Reaping. Often, they experience fear, hope, relief, devastation, or some combination thereof. In the case of Ezero, he goes along a somewhat different path. Some people, in the face of an extremely stressful or worrying event, will shut themselves down and wall themselves off from their emotions or from other people in an attempt to neutralize the internal conflict. Each person reacts differently and the exploration of that is what gives a real sense of who they are.

The well-dressed version of me was waiting for the moment to leave, the moment when he would take over control from me. I held onto myself for now, making sure I gave a send off to Puddles. The little guy just stared at me with his bulging fish eyes and blew a couple bubbles. His gills flapped once, then twice, and then he turned away and let himself float to his little hut. See you soon, little buddy.

My parents were somewhat harder to part from, seeing as they were both so hopeful and so terrified for me. "We'll be leaving shortly after you." My father is a kindly man, his slighty-wrinkled face giving him a sense of warmth that he readily possessed. "We'll be there to see your last reaping, hun, and then we'll all go home." My mother was the truly positive one of the family. She was the one person who would never think a negative thought, let alone say it. I hugged them both - this all felt so final - and walked out the door. Heading to the Reaping, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and let myself amble some. The fact that this in fact was my last reaping was a bit hard to take in. After seven years of worry I would finally be able to rest assured - though those habits of fearing this day to the point where I would only be able to get restless sleep the night before would die hard, if they died at all.

Standing in the huge pens - for that's what they really were - brought the fear home in a sharp stab. Instinctively, I hid behind the polished version of me I had seen in the mirror. From behind the protection of the glass I watched as the other children filed in around me. I recognized a number of faces from the classes I helped my father teach, and another number from simply having seen them in this very situation before. We had all been here too many times, and we had all seen the terrible end for those who were called. I couldn't say I wasn't terrified - because I was - or that I thought everything would be fine - because I didn't - but I pressed myself to the cool glass that separated me from the rest of the world. I would be fine if I just stayed here.

Called Out

The last thing anyone wants to hear during the Reaping is their own name, or the name of someone they love, and yet each year two names have to be drawn and said. As such, two people in the crowd will have to take their places on the stage and two families will have to watch as they are taken away. The experience of having your name read out in the Reaping is one that has a different sort of effect depending on which District you come from, as well as your own ideology on the Reaping. For Ezero, having his sights set on the times after this Reaping, the sound of his name comes as a hard blow.

What chattering there had been during the prattle about Panem's history and the introduction to the Reaping faded in and instant as the escort stepped forward. Everyone's breath was sucked in at once, creating a vacuum of soundless, wordless terror. The inaudible cries of Not him! Not her! Not me! echoed inside everyone's minds. We all knew this was the moment when two people would be sentenced to death. My glass wall rattled, shaken by the withdraw of the atmosphere from all around me. Despite the defense I tried to keep up I felt vulnerable and alone. Desperately I searched for the faces of my parents. Both of them looked only at me. They were gripping each other tight, their faces drawn. We all felt the pull of the vacuum towards the abyss but each of us held firm. I will come home after this. I will sit down at the dinner table and we will all laugh and cry and know that I will never have to worry like this again.

"Cecilia Brontz!"

I barely heard the girl's name, and I barely heard anything that happened because of it. My focus was on my parents, on their eyes meeting mine and holding. We would all be going home together. Except suddenly that thought and the entirety of my glass wall shattered into flying pointed shards as I heard a name that was all too familiar.

"Ezero Laffan!"

No.

That wasn't right, I knew it couldn't be. Yet, the creeping sensation of finality swept over me as the flash of images - the clothes on my bed, my image in the mirror, Puddles turning away, my parents hugging me, their taught features- confirmed the suspicion I had had since last night: I would not been walking away from this Reaping.

Ascending to Hell

After a person's name is called they must step up onto the stage to stand beside the escort with their District partner located on the escort's other side. This signifies that they take up their place as tribute, which can only be changed by another person volunteering in the place of the reaped person of the same gender. A male can only volunteer for a male, and a female can only volunteer for a female. Failure to make their way up to the stage will result in a small group of Peacekeepers forcibly moving them onto the stage - even carrying them if so required. By climbing those steps, they signify that they are going to sacrifice themselves in the name of their District and the Capitol - whether they wish to or not.

It doesn't take long for the crowd around me to lean away. They rapidly create a path for me to follow up to the stairs and the stage. I have no choice but to take it. If I doddle I'll be manhandled by the leering Peacekeepers up in front of anyone anyway. I may as well do this of my own volition. At this moment I don't have time to look for my parents again, and I am okay with that for the moment because I don't think I could manage the climb if I did.

Around me is silence. Once more we are all inside a vacuum and somehow I move when everyone else is frozen. The only other sound is that of a girl climbing the other set of stairs. Right now I don't want to see her, don't want to know her in any way. In all the years that people can remember, there hasn't been a victor from District eight. Odds are, she and I will not be coming home unless it's in a box. Even if one of us does win, the other has to die. There is no true way to win the Hunger Games, you just get lucky and I wasn't feeling very lucky at the moment. I doubted many people did, and the people who do are out there in the crowd with their eyes bugging at me in my fancy clothes as I take my place beside the escort. Some people have something to say to everyone, some final send off, but I had nothing. I was never much of a public speaker and this was really not a time when I felt like changing that. If I was going to die, why should I put myself through even more hardship.

Only now did I meet my parents' gazes. Their faces were white, and I suppose mine was too. All of my mother's positive words had been dragged away into the nothingness and she looked like a sheet of paper someone had crumpled. I hoped my father would be able to flatten her out again, make her legible and bind her back into the book she was torn from. Let her be whole again, even if I will never be.

Enter the Gate

The final part of the Reaping is the solemn march into the Justice Building. There, tributes will be allowed to meet with friends and family for a short period of time before being taken to the Capitol. Once a tribute enters the Justice Building they are fully committed and will not be able to see their District unless they win the Games. For many, this is the last time they will ever see the place where they lived and grew up. Often this is when those who tried to keep a hold on their emotion break down as the cameras and innumerable eyes are off them for the first time since their name was called.

A peacekeeper grabs me by the arm roughly, nearly hauling me along as we are guided into the Justice Building. I still can't look at the girl who was also reaped. In due time I will have to face her, but for right now I am too struck by the sight of my mother's world crumbling around her to care much. What I mourn the most at this moment is not my life, and not my District. I mourn the positivity that my mother will never again be able to have. When the doors swing shut behind us and block all sunlight I feel like that is more of a metaphor than any action had a right to be. From now on I was trapped, separated from my family and my District, stranded in the dark. The Peacekeeper on my arm represented the Capitol's relentless grip and brutal manner as I am tossed into a room. Once more, doors shut and I am left in pitch black.

My mother's positivity has been extinguished in the same motion that my life was. We are both doomed to living our lives in the shadow of negativity and horror.

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⊳ Ezero Laffan accepts his position as Tribute
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[*]

Cecilia Brontz

Five o'clock comes early and with it the every day responsibilities arise. The subtle sound of Lotus waking up, wanting a bottle and little Gage's haunted nightmares come to play almost every morning around this time. Today, is different. There is no whimpering from the bad dreams. There is no subtle sounds of a cry from the crib. Instead, I'm greeted with the bright light of a gentle sunrise over the hills and into the bedroom in which all five of us sleep. Bunk beds and cribs occupy this tiny little room. No amount of comfort is given here in this household when seven live together in a two bedroom place. Though, love is very much present and when I go to peer around the room, the only other person I see that is still asleep is my oldest brother that is two years my junior. Today, is his first reaping and my third.

The morning sun that wakes me up sets my heart to hurting. I remember so vividly my first reaping and how scared I truely was. I remember Jacob curling up to me and telling me that everything was going to be okay. How his voice coddled me, his big sister, the day that my world suddenly became something more than just a horrible nightmare. It was the start of the seven year itch that will test even the strongest willed children; I am one of those.

So far, two years down, this one and four more to go. I only need to go stand in line, then go back home today. Lotus needs me to teach her how to sew her brother's clothing and to cook meals to stretch into three days. Jory and Jacob need to teach her how to fight and Gage needs to teach her that she can get away with everything if only she uses the famous lip pout. My favorite little sister needs all of us and if one of us are taken away, she'll never know us.

If only today will just turn into a memory already.

A memory that will fade with time... just like a lost minute.

"Cecilia?" Jacob's voice whispers out to me and I look over to him. His eyes shimmer with fresh tears that collect at his eyes and then glisten on his cheeks and immediately, I can tell he woke up with that fear. A little boy, my little brother, of twelve is having to come to terms with reality and the fact that his life may be at its end. With one simple grasp of a tiny peice of white paper and his life could end just like that and I will have no say in it. Girls can't volunteer for boys. Boys can't volunteer for girls. It's the unfair fight in the capitol's imaginary game.

They are tearing families apart!

"Shh. Jacob. It's okay! You are not going to be chosen. You are my little brother. You are special. You have your name in only once. You are safe. There are plenty of other little boys and older boys that have had to take extra tessera to pay for food. You are never to do that, you hear? I will go without before I see you to scribble your name on a peice of pristine capitol paper." I wrap my arms around his gaunt body, pulling him into my embrace and rock back and forth until I can no longer see the pools of uncertainty that form in his eyes. "Today, you and I will walk back home hand in hand. Just you wait!"

I feel him nod against my chest and that's when I know that everything will be okay. Even as we walk beside each other, my parents and three younger siblings behind us, we know that today is just another day. With that confidence, I slip away from my family and from Jacob and take my place in line with the other girls that I go to school with. Each one with a deathly glare to that awful looking stage. Their eyes nothing but daggers - threatening the life of the escort and several of the peacekeepers. My own vision don't linger on those unimportant people.

No.

I focus on Jacob and then to Jory. Gage and Lotus are being comforted by my parents off in the crowd. From the first word that is spoken by the escort, my mind drifts off until I hear my own name being called out. I realize suddenly that Jory isn't the one having the nightmare. It's me. My blood runs cold. My eyes fall quickly to the ground in attempts for them not to notice me. There are plenty of girls around me, but one girl speaks up first, igniting a fire within my belly.

"Cecilia Brontz... go. You got called."

Isabell touches my arm. She latches on for dear life for only a mere moment until her arms unravel themselves from around my neck. A scream of pain echoes through the crowd and with it to match is the ever present sound of Lotus's fearful cry when she is left alone too long. Hot, stinging tears spring up almost immediately when I am guided out of the line and placed between the guards. I look fearfully for Jacob who is trying hard not to cry. In that moment, I understand what's going on. All of it hits me like my last breath...

Tag... I'm it.

No more childish games will I get to play with my younger siblings.

Silence screams from my lips that remain unmoving. Eyes follow me as I wrap my arms around my thin, faint body. I can't even look out into the crowd at this point and my silence only continues. The sound of my baby sister's cry makes my vision go to her one last time. I'll never see her again.

Cecilia accepts her position for district eight female.