Are You A Hunger Games Fanatic? discussion

This my friend's is where you will post your reaping sence. Make it heart felt and interesting which means NO one-liners. :) Make sure you do both your male and your female tribute, and to make sure to put what distirct your from. Remeber, be cerative!
And may the odds be ever in your favor...

((It deleted mine twice, sorry. Ill do it later))

((Okay))

Daniel Nathi, District 4 Male
Daniel strolled into the quad area, waiting to hear what boy would be representing District 4 this year. He was talking quietly with his friends when the escort said, "Daniel Nathi, you have the honour of representing District 4 as the male in the Hunger Games this year!" His friends clapped for him and patted his back. No one volunteered, and for him, he was disappionted. He was probably one of the least skilled boys of all of District 4, in his opinion. "Tell us a bit about yourself, Daniel," she said.
"Oh, I work at the fish market...it's an...honour? to go to the games this year," he said as he backed away from the microphone.
"Lovely, Daniel! Your male tribute for this year's Hunger Games!" she said.



Andre Maty, District 11 Male
Andre stood quietly among the crowd, waiting patiently, praying Maya wouldn't get called, as her chances were high. "And the Male tribute, this year, will be," said the female escort in her annoying squeaky little voice, "Andre Maty!"
He heard Maya shout, "NO!" as the peacekeepers walked him up to the stage.
"Well, I would think you ever so smart peacekeepers who have faith in our country know there is no possible way to escape, and I can walk myself up to the stage, but thank you for the assistance," Andre said, getting a small nervous laugh from the escort.
"Your male tribute, Andre Maty!"
Andre looked out into the crowd and saw Maya trying to control herself and stay strong for their siblings.

District Seven: Willow and Woody Birk


The day dawned clear and bright as Woody and Willow walked hand in hand to the square. When they reached the square, Willow huddled against Woody. Her small frame seemed to disappear in Woody’s large arms. Woody whispered three short words into Willows ear and she nodded and whispered something back before pulling away. The two siblings walked away in opposite directions as the escort boarded the stage. “Welcome! I am here to choose one lucky girl and boy to compete in the amazing Hunger Games! As always, girls go first!” The escort stuck her hand into a bowl and pulled out a slip of paper, “Avalon Green!” Everyone stared in horror as a tiny girl was carried out of the twelve year old section. Her pale face stood out against her dark tattered clothes. Her limbs hung limply from her body. No matter what disease she had, she would have to go into the games.
----------------------------------------------------
“Woody Birk, age 17.”
“Nice to meet you Woody,” smiled the escort. “You must be the brother of our other volunteer!”
“Yes I am.”
The escort turned towards the crowd and help up one of Willows hands and one of Woody’s hands, “Please welcome Woody and Willow Birk as this year’s tributes!”
((Yes, I notice that this reaping has a big gap in it with a lot of unknown information. Yes, you will find out what happens before the games start. Yes, Willow volunteered for Avalon and Woody for another boy that probably will never be mentioned.))

District 9:

Alder Harrison stood in the crowd of 15 year old boys. None of them looked happy to be standing there. He looked across to the girl section. Up front with the 17 year olds was one of his few friends, Juniper. She smiled and waved at him. "You'll be fine," she mouths. He shrugged, his eyes devoid of emotion. Somehow he had a bad feeling about today. Of course, he had a bad feeling at the past three reapings as well. Maybe this time would be just as painless. Or at least as painless as a reaping could be.

The escort for 9 walked up to the microphone. "Welcome young men and women of District 9! Let's get started with the ladies, shall we?" The brightly dressed, pretentious Capitol woman reached into the bowl that held the cursed slips of paper with the names of the innocent girls printed neatly on them. "Monica Branson. Come up here, chicky!" There was immediate tears in the 12 year old section, and the place where the parents stood. A slight girl, with short, dark hair slowly made her way to the stage. Alder could see how troubled Juniper was, and saw she was looking at the girl in a way that he'd seen when she was about to make a tough decision. He shook his head frantically. He was about to tell at her to not think about it. Too late. "I volunteer. I'll take Monica's place, I'll be tribute," Juniper firmly called out.

The escort seemed startled, but beckoned her up. "Well done my dear! What a show of district spirit!" Juniper's siblings began to cry. Alder sighed. She was being stupid. Did her siblings not matter to her? She was too kindhearted for her own good. "What's your name, missy?" "Juniper Hayes," she said, giving a forcefully brave smile.

The escort turned to the boys bowl. "Well lets find out what lucky gentleman will be joining you in the arena!" She strutted over to the reaping bowl. Her hand going in dramatically slowly. She slowly pulled out a slip of paper, and unfolded it with dramatic precision. "This year's male tribute is...Alder Harrison!" He closed his eyes in defeat. Somehow he had expected this. He glanced back at his grandparents, who were trying not to show how distraught they were, and walked calmly up to the stage. He didn't know how, but he decided that moment that he would use these odds, which obviously did not favor his family, and make the Capitol pay for killing his father and stealing his mothers happiness.

District 5!

Tanner turned squinty eyed, as he walked outside in the blazing sun. He looked at the rest of his, well, adoption family walking to the square, very slowly and holding eachothers hands till they turned white. He tried to not loose his lunch, as he staggered behind them. Tanner had this weird gut feeling but couldn't grasp it. He wiped sweat of his forehead and continued onwards.

He gave the Peacekeeper his finger, wincing when the took his blood. Tanner remained silent as he shuffled to his section. He shoved through, nervously as the Announcer came on stage. "Ladies First!" Tanner looked at some of his friends, that were girls and nodded slowly as if to confirm, they will not be picked. A wave of relief hit him as it wasn't someone he knew. Tanner saw the look on the girls face though and returned to that gut eating feeling. He winced as she yanked the boys name out. Tanner clutched his shirt as she said loud and proud, "Tanner Haiys!"

He looked at everyone shocked. "No... Not me... It must be a mistake..." He thought. Everyone looked at him, he knew. Tanner slowly and scared, walked to the front, hoping for a volunteer, nothing. He stepped on stage, queasy feeling. Tanner followed the Women's instructions and wandered inside,getting a good last look at 5.

Crest held onto her sisters hand tightly, it was her first reaping. She explained to her how your name's in there once, you have a low chance, it's ok... But then her sister bursted, "I'm worried for you Crest, you..." Crest's face went blank. She never thought about getting drawn becuase she was so wrapped up in worry for others. "I promise you Blaize, It'll be allright." She held onto Blaize and thought deeply, about getting drawn and her families life if she did.... "Crest! Crest!" Her older brother shook her. "We need to go!" He was rather excited, it was his last reaping.

She, for the first time, hung back from her family, shuffling and kicking the dry ground. Crest bit her lip as they took her blood print. She meandered to her spot, clenching everything. Her face was tight and her fists were white from squeezing them together so tight. She ignored the heat, and her sweat.

Crest breaths a shaky breath as the announcer called, "Ladies first!" She closed her eyes but they busted open as she said, "Crest Chestnut!" She gasped softly, looking at her family and friends. They were cleary in shock. Blaize fell to her knees crying. Everyone knew her. They looked as if they all would volunteer but didn't. Crest tried to squeeze her tears away as she walked to the podium, very stiff.

Crest shook the boys hand, he shared the same look. They both mozied into the building, shock written allover their faces.

District Eight {Emerie Pryce}
There were oh so many people here. Too many people, too dirty and too close and too scared. Emerie could feel her face flushing as heat rose through her veins, a fire that she longed desperately to expunge from her senses. Her fingertips were tingling, too, and her whole body was tensed in morbid apprehension. Her lips parted and a mumbling, somehow estranged from her mind itself tumbled off her tongue to mingle and then meld with the hundreds of other voices chattering nervously. All the noise, all the cries and moans and whimpers filled her head with a ringing. "No," the small word slipped easily between dry lips, "No, no, no-" She was newly aware of the sensation of hard gravel pressing into the skin of her legs. Her own ghostly pale hands clutched at her head and it was all she could do to stay there, sitting with her legs folded under her and her skeletal hands doing their best to hold her skull from bursting into one thousand lethal shards. Her thin frock bunched around her knees and slowly seeped in the murk of the puddles that pitted the district streets. She looked around frantically, her dilated eyes wild and disoriented. One or two of the girls around her jostled and stumbled against the others to back away from the lunatic Pryce girl. Her affliction was well established through out the people of the district. The whispers followed her everywhere, though she was deaf to the slander and blind to the sneers in the state her mind held her captive in.

"Welcome, welcome to the Eighty Seventh Hunger Games!" The honeyed voice was blown to thunderous proportions, filling the small and grimy city square with Esme Auger's synthetic magnitude. Emerie lifted her head painfully slowly, feeling each vertebra slip into alignment until her eyes rested, but not fully perceived the makeshift stage in front of her. For a terrible moment, the woman's gaze held Emerie's. Blue eyes bore into blue eyes, alike only in shade, for what Emerie's muted orbs lacked in resolve, the hostess made up for in potency.
"It is the tradition, as all citizens know, to offer up one male and one female as tribute. Those who are chosen will be entered into the arena to partake in a televised fight to the death. One victor will remain in the end, and they will be crowned champion. The victor's district will receive rewards by way of food and other necessities, via the unceasing generosity of President Snow. It is necessary at this time to remember why the Hunger Games was first instated. Many years ago, rebels in the districts attempted to turn against The Capital which had forever been a parent to them. When the revolt was quelled, it was decreed that the citizens must face consequences, as any child must for wrong doings. Eighty Seven years ago, the very first Hunger Games was commissioned as the decided upon discipline. Every year hence, there has been a Hunger Games in order to commemorate both the terrible times of uprising and the peace The Capital has restored since."
Emerie's ears could not discern a single word the woman said. It was nothing she hadn't failed to hear the years prior, in any case. She realized that her frail form was still huddled on the rough and unforgiving floor and she struggled to rise to her feet, barely covered in thin canvas shoes, worn down to threads. Her legs, in color and width interchangeable with the bones that protruded sharply just under pale skin, shook under her fragile body. It looked for all the world like one more shiver might easily break her apart. Delicate fingers began to rub at her arm with neurotic ferocity, as if to expunge some impurity that lingered there.
"Let the reaping begin." The voice trilled, and Emerie didn't hear a word. "First, the female tribute." A silence, and Emerie was unaware of everything beyond the bonds of her mind and the feeling of her the skin of her arm rubbing raw. "EMERIE PRYCE!" The name split the air, but Emerie did not recognize her name in the strange Capitol tongue. Again the name, "EMERIE PRYCE?" The faceless people around her began to back away, fully aware this action was, for her, damnation. Her face flooded the screens, but she did not recognize the light crumpled curls or hollow eyes that alighted on every display, an artist's quick portrayal of one lost all but entirely to the world. Suddenly, her body was seized. Four gloved hands held her own hostage and dragged her easily from the crowd.
Emerie let out a distressed cry, her only words a demented garble and one name. "Roman-" She squirmed desperately in her captor's grasp, hot tears streaming down her face. She didn't know what what happening, she didn't know why the world was crashing around her, she didn't know why the hold on her arms was so tight- too tight... She was on the stage, now, and everyone was watching, tilting their heads up at her to get a better view of the bedraggled tribute girl creating a scene. "Don't look at me-" She tried again to shake out of the Peacekeeper's hands, and this time they released her. "Stop- stop looking at me! Don't! Stop!" Her blue saucer eyes were full of wild devastation. She clutched both willowy arms around her body and let the tears draw lines in the dirt of her cheeks. Why was was she here? What did she do to warrant these horrors? Why, oh why, oh why, oh why?

District Eight {Roman Bennett}
Roman had forced his way through the masses of boys, his hands both barricade and battering ram, working to collide and push away against the rough material hanging off the 16-year-olds' thin backs and shoulders and arms, more bone than flesh. All he could think of were Emerie's own thin limbs- the way the porcelain skin of her arms melded seamlessly into her fragile shoulders and the way her creamy blond curls danced on that slight frame which held her beautiful neck, and oh, he could not let that neck be severed. He would die one thousand times over if he had to see Emerie's velveteen blood seep over her delicate skin. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain of knowing her breakable beauty might forever be defaced and shoved under layers of dirt. Emerie had been his world for so much of his life, so many years. He had been her guardian, held in a silent promise to keep her safe for all of eternity. It was only now that he realized how much he loved her. He loved her. His feet pounded harder on the grime below them and he propelled his body forward with such force he would have been amazed at his own ability had his mind not been overcome with the intense need to be by her side, to be there for her and keep her safe forever and always. He was barely conscious of the offbeat stamp of black Peacekeeper boots pursuing him, overcoming him. He only had eyes for the stage and the two figures on it. Emerie was now partially concealed behind the figure swathed in silver, the platinum blonde woman's garment all angles and sharp edges. His feet came to a sharp halt as he rammed into the stage's edge, gripping the wood tightly with both hands. The pounding of military boots stopped as well when his arms were seized in eight death grips. He planted his feet on the ground, twisting and shouldering against his captors in a desperate attempt to shake them off. "Emerie, I'm here!" He yelled up to the terrified girl onstage, "Emerie!" The boys around him backed away, offering no help or word of encouragement, so deep rooted was their fear in the capital and its ways. It was going to be four on one and the odds were not in his favor.

Esme paid no mind to the commotion beneath her silver stiletto heels. She did not raise her voice, nor did she need to in order for her words to be heard. "Now for the male tribute," She called, her voice like shattering glass.
Roman could feel the tension catch the hearts of each and every child around him, but all he could do was continue to fight against the iron grasp on his arms to no avail. He was being pulled backward, away from the stage, his arms were being wrenched behind his back-
"ROMAN BENNETT!"
There was only a moment, a single heart beat, before the realization hit him. It came not as a blow but as a blessing. Suddenly his heart was a bird soaring into his throat. "That's me-" He yelled, "I'm Roman Bennett." The soldiers released him and he stumbled forward in a daze, forcing his feet to keep a steady pace. How he longed to run up to Emerie and hold her close to him. To tell her, convince her, she'd be alright- that he'd keep her safe. He skirted the edge of the stage and found the steps, each stair a continued ascension to the hangman's rope. He reached center stage and turned to face the mob of monochrome figures. Breathe in, breathe out. He stepped forward. Breathe in, breathe out. He reached out to take Emerie's clammy hand in his. Breathe in breathe out.
"District eight, I present Emerie Pryce and Roman Bennett, tributes of the eighty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."
Breathe in, breathe out. He closed his fingers tightly around her's interlocking and grasping and never wanting to let go again. In a hushed whisper, the only sound in the unmoving square, void of cheers, he spoke to Emerie and Emerie alone. "I love you. I love you, and I always will."

District 11, Nadia Brooke
Nadia gazed unemotionally at the pulpit. Try as she might, she could not burn a hole in the head Peackeeper's head. He stood up on the stage and looked back at her. If it wasn't for the rows and rows of officials that were watching, and the fact that she was worn out from the day's work, she would have throttled him.

Kathy picked a slip out of the giant glass bowl. In a clear, crisp, and loud voice that made Nadia's spine crawl in disgust, she chirped.
"Nadia Brooke!"

Nadia's eyes widened. She felt everyone's eyes on her. She felt like throwing up. Sure, she had seen death before. The occasional execution, but. UGH!!! She wanted to scream in a dark black hole. Nadia then realized that she still hadn't moved from her spot. Other people were trying to shove her out from them. They didn't want any trouble from the Peackeepers, who were charging her way now.

No one's voice was raised in defiance, no one yelled, "Stop! She's just a girl!" Nadia didn't have anyone to see her off, so she was knocked out by the butt of a rifle.
Who's the other tribute?! Nadia thought wildly. She fought feebly, but the last thing that she saw was the door closing on the train. The bright orange groves dissapereing behind a cold metal door.

(Thank you Slivermoon and Eve!)