REAPING DAY! ((Open to all in District TWO!))

THE 16TH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES.

District Two Reaping.
Coriolanus Snow Junior.
Date: September 2st, ADD

Unlike the day before, the speed of the train quickly decreasing woke Snow up. As the train grew closer and closer to District Two, he watched as everyone through their things (and more often than not) hair together. In the window, Snow could make out his reflection, spotting the damage that sleeping had done. Yesterday was a very long day and none of the people traveling from one Reaping to the next had gotten much sleep. It was a miracle how awake Xander Petry looked. Today the man's hair had red streaking it as opposed to his all-orange style yesterday. Being shown everywhere on television was enough of a motivation to look good.

Snow tried his best to look decent too, but there were bags under his eyes. His hair was a nightmare from sleeping on the train, and if you looked close enough, you could see that his jaw was bruised. After Snow's father, the President, saw that he snuck off to the Reaping, he literally gave a Peacekeeper the task of backhanding him. Classy. That man was.

Despite the eminent lack of energy amongst the crew (besides Xander), Snow could see everyone was still excited. The Games only happened once a year, after all. The caffine intake amount was enlightening, but soon that didn't matter as Snow found himself, once again, surrounded by people. Although District One was the closest acting than any other, Snow was shocked at how much he saw the people mimicking the Capitol here. Then again, these were only the people who wanted to show up early and get extra time to get to talk to these "celebrities."

From then on, the day went on almost exactly the same way as it did on the first Reaping day. Girls sorry surrounded him all day, asking for pictures and asking him to answer their questions. It was only around the time that the actual Reaping started that Snow noticed the differences between Districts. Two was larger, much larger. And on account of this, the Reaping bowls were huge. It was a wonder the small form of Xander didn't crash under the weight. But they were moved on the stadium and Xader had quickly drawn in the audience once more.

He bode them greeting and cracked a few corny jokes, then quiclly he placed his hand in the girl's bowl. "Who will it be?"


((Xander Petry is the equivalent of Effie Trinket. He speaks in Yellow.
Snow, if he speaks at all, will do so in white

Post away! Tallying for the Games starts now!

P.S. I'm really about the suckiness, My first draft dissolved ))

It was that time of year again. The reaping. There was no denying the nervous energy rushing through his veins as Keagon made his way into the town square with the huge crowd of people. It wasn’t everyday that all of District 2 was crammed into the town square, and Keagon often forgot just how many people lived there. Needless to say, he was reminded today as he pushed his way through countless classmates, careers, and family members. Speaking of family members…Keagon’s thoughts drifted to his parents. He knew they’d be at the reaping – it was mandatory, of course – but had they bothered to look for him, wish him luck? Of course not. While the fifteen year old was not at all surprised, he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. But then again, he didn’t need luck. Because Keagon was only fifteen. Surely his name wasn’t going to get chosen, and one of the older careers, maybe even that guy who’d tried to ‘help’ Keagon recently, would rush up to volunteer. That was how this always worked, and Keagon couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved that it wasn’t his year. Not yet.

Still, there was no getting rid of that nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded Keagon that, no matter how slim the odds may be, his name was still entered in those large bowls four times. It was highly unlikely, but Keagon could get chosen. And if he did, he would have to go into the games. Allowing a volunteer to take over for him was not acceptable, as he’d been reminded by his father just that morning. It would ‘dishonor the family’, something the Seyes couldn’t afford after Kenton’s failure to win in the Games. Kenton had lost. Kenton, who had been one of the toughest careers out there. Who had volunteered at 18. Who Keagon had always looked up to. He had lost. If Kenton couldn’t win the Games, how the hell was Keagon supposed to do it?

No. Keagon couldn’t allow himself to think like that. He was strong. He was tough. He knew how to fight, how to use weapons. Even if he was reaped this year, Keagon was sure he still had a fighting chance. He wouldn’t allow himself to think otherwise. Shaking his head as he finally made it to the center of town, Keagon allowed a peacekeeper to prick his finger before he made his way over to the area of the square for the fifteen year old boys. District 2 was a place of order – there would be no kids running around willy-nilly like in the District 1 reaping.

And now, he just had to wait. Keagon forced himself to take a few deep breaths, locking the small traces of nervousness somewhere deep inside himself where they couldn’t be seen. Keagon Seye would not be thought of as weak. Instead, he stood tall, a smirk crossing his face as that idiot Xander began the ceremony. Was it just Keagon, or did the guy get more and more stupid looking every year? And hey – was that the president’s son here? Whoa. That was something new. The fifteen year old’s brows furrowed; Keagon couldn’t remember any of the Snows attending a reaping for years. Did that mean something was up? Nah, Keagon was probably just looking too much into it. Besides, those were dangerous thoughts. Best to push them from his mind and keep looking as if he had no care in the world. And he didn’t. He totally didn’t. He wasn’t going to get picked, so he just had to sit back and relax, and see which girl from his district he’d be potentially rooting for from the safety of his own home.

((Erm... quiet District? I'll post again if no one has by the time D3 Reaping comes out.))

((This...this is called being busy, then randomly getting a load of muse...and losing it half way through... I apologize for lateness and such. D8))

This was going to be a much harder task than first thought. Jonathon grumbled as his father lazily got himself ready. Jonathon wasn’t going to volunteer today, that was a certainty. It was his father’s wish to have Jonathon be as old as possible when he entered the games, it was either join the games at 18 years old, or don’t go into them at all. Even though Jonathon had been fully trained for the games and he had often trained by himself, making himself stronger and stronger, he wanted to be 18 when he won. The boy agitatedly snapped and grabbed his father’s hand. “Come on, we’re gonna be late if you keep messing around!” Jonathon’s father simply grumbled and was lead out of the door by the Career.

Jonathon was quick, and he half dragged his father to the Town Square. His name was in quite a few times and if he was picked then he really wouldn’t have minded, but for some reason, he doubted that would happen. Jonathon took his father to the Town Square, his eyes darting back and forth. So many people were there...District 2 was known for its love of the Games. To fight in the Arena was an honour. Jonathon decided to let go of the old man’s arm. And Jonathon’s father sniffed and straightened his ‘suit’ that he wore once a year. At the reaping. Jonathon was pleasantly surprised that it hadn’t congregated a huge amount of dust, not to say there was no dust there. The Seventeen year old stood straight backed; being taller than most other people gave him the advantage that he could see the stage clearly.

The boys eyes narrowed as the Capitol member took the stage. Not once did Jonathon laugh at the jokes. He licked his lips with uncertainty. Every year this happened, every god damn year. He got worked up about actually getting chosen, each time he came here he thought out how he would volunteer. Then he saw him...what...was...this? Jonathon blinked uncertainly, was that...the president’s son? The confusion was only brief and the result was a furrowed brow that Jonathon quickly got rid of. He turned his head to see someone he recognised, pretty big coincidence that they managed to stand near to each other. Jonathon looked at Keagon inquisitively and mentally shrugged as he turned to face the stage.

This Capitol citizen was good at his job. That was for certain. As he placed his hand into the Girls bowl, Jonathon bit his lip and didn’t take his eyes off the bowl. His mind went on to over things. The amount of times the boy had been in this position was rather strange. He could remember most of District 12’s Tributes making their way up to the podium, whether they had been picked out or they volunteered. As sadistic as it sounded, each year something interesting happened. A smirk appeared on Jonathon’s face. It was all so very amusing. His mind did not stay on the subject for a very long time though; the Career gave another look at Keagon. Jonathon wasn’t sure if the younger boy’s ‘help’ from Jonathon had been useful. Jonathon certainly thought it had been.

With a grin on his face Jonathon moved over to Keagon. Leaving his father to his own devices, he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. The older career was taller than Keagon, unsurprisingly, and his movement seemed to go unnoticed. As Jonathon stood there, he nudged Keagon in the side, not too hard but it wasn't gentle either. The Career raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Hi.” he whispered before turning back to glance at the Stadium. His movement had, indeed, gone unnoticed. Jonathon would have been proud of it, if it wasn’t so small and insignificant. From his new space next to Keagon, he could see his father and his view of the stadium was actually better than his other place. It was a win, win situation. Jonathon waited for the girl to be chosen. He waited for the drama to begin.

((Yeah, most of this is copied, sorry. I'm losing muse really quickly for this Plus I have exams to study for.))

Though the day wasn't turning out to be as good as Snow originally thought it would be, he was pleasantly surprised at watching the reactions of the individuals in the crowd. As they were far away and not trying to get all the more closer to the son of the President. He scanned over the excited, bubbling faces, to the quieter ones, still clinging to the hope that they wouldn't get reaped. [color=yellow]"May the odds be ever in your favor! Xander's voice chimed and there was a wink in his eye. He fiddled for a slip of paper and there was an almost unsettling quiet of anticipation that filled the crowd, what Xander aimed for, of course.

Snow, close enough to the standing form of Xander, could hear him chuckling merrily. He pulled out a piece of paper that was somewhere in the middle of the bowl. He read over the name, furrowing his brow at the slightest. "The girl tribute this year is North Clarke!" There was so much joy in his voice, it was unsettling. Though watching the tributes kill each other was invigorating, Snow didn't find it that amusing.

The crowd naturally parted for an older, blond girl. He body was frail, but she seemed in good enough shape. [color=yellow]"Come, come now, North!" He opened his arms - pah! - like showing that the Capitol was welcoming her! Then again ...the Capitol did welcome them, love them, and even worshiped them. But this display was all the more different to encounter first hand than through the screen in the comfort of Snow's bedroom.

As North walked closer, Snow saw a girl with large, brown eyes and defined brows. She didn't seem very afraid, but he could tell that thoughts flew through her head as she headed towards the stage. The camera men turned to her and her face appeared on the large screen. She looked around the same age as Snow, possibly older as she didn't have the surgery Snow did to make him look slightly older than he really was.

The girl looked directly into Snow's eyes. It wasn't for very long and he doubted anyone else saw it, but there wasn't a trace of terror in her eyes. It wasn't quite defiance, but this girl looked like a leader. Snow nodded at her and flashed one of his smiles. Xander clashed the girl's hand. "How so very wonderful! It's great, it's really great having you here, you'll love the attention, you will." The words spilled out of his mouth and he continued to shake her hand vigorously. Then, it seemed, he finally remembered what he was supposed to be doing. "Ah, yes! Boys now!" He smiled and returned to his original spot by the glass bowl as two Peacekeepers followed North to her seat, three seats down from Snow.

((I know it's not much, but I actually enjoyed writing this!))

North Clarke was ushered quickly out of the house by her mother, for fear of being late. Out of everyone in the family, it was only them who actually cared about their appearances at least a little, and while the rest had set off early, they'd stayed behind to pick the right clothes and do their hair.

North was wearing a plain white dress, that was gold around her neck and her hair was waved, having been braided the night before. A gold coloured hairband was neatly in place, just for show more than anything, and to match the ballet pumps she wore. Patting her hair nervously, she walked briskly with her mother - neither saying a word to eachother. North was trying to work out what her family had been thinking earlier and had come to the decision they either wanted her to go, so she'd finally leave and stop being such an embarrassment - or they were deathly afraid of her getting chosen and showing them all up live on television.

I've dodged it all my life, she thought. What are the chances of my
name being chosen, eh?

North and her silent mother reached the group of people as Xander walked on and began to talk. It was nearly time, and the girl's heart began to pound. Seven pieces of paper in that
big bowl carried her name.

Seven out of many, many bits of paper. No way would she be picked.

Vaguely, she registered Snow, and nearly raised her eyebrows. What was he doing here? That was unusual. He didn't look in the best of shape either...

This was it. Xander reached into the bowl, and the whole scene seemed to slow down for her - and she wished they'd just stop all together. Every year she felt like this. Every single year. Of course, every year someone else had been chosen. Don't even know what I'm worrying about, really. No chance will I be picked. Absolutely no-

"-North Clarke!"

She took a sharp intake of breath and closed her eyes, steadying herself. A brave face was needed. She wanted to look prepared. She needed to look as if she was capable of winning.

But was she?

North took a few steps forward, waiting a short while to test the waters. Would she fall over? Would someone volunteer? Glancing at her family, and feeling her feet drag forward again -neither seemed very likely. They looked at her. Her eldest brother had a steel gaze, his jaw
clenched. The rest of the family seemed to be smiling a little and the youngest sister even mouthed a "good luck". They had been closer than the rest of the family, and she seemed
genuinely sad to see North chosen. That was nice.

North smiled back and nodded as if to reassure the girl. Looking at her whole family, she mimed an "I love you", wondering why the statement was true. Family was family, she supposed, no matter how they treated you. The eighteen-year-old was surprised to see
a few "love you"'s back and even real smiles.

Huh. Unexpected. Well, I suppose I'll be able to talk to them later anyway. They do love me after all. Even her mental tone was surprised.

North stepped up to the platform, proud of how collected she was. She looked at Snow first, into his blue eyes. He didn't seem as evil as the President. He must be, she thought, wearily. His jaw was bruised and he looked... quite frankly, he looked awful. North couldn't help but feeling a little sorry for him. He nodded at her and smiled, and she found herself smiling back.

Suddenly, Xander was shaking her hand and she quickly looked away from Snow, half-smiling at the other man instead. He was very... enthusiastic. The whole ordeal would probably have been harder had he been miserable and droning, so she had that to thank him for, at least.

"Thank you," she said, before turning away, escorted by a couple of Peacekeepers three seats down from Snow.

I wonder who the other tribute is.

Normally, Keagon was pretty observant of his surroundings. But today was obviously not a normal day, so it was no surprise he didn’t see the older boy making his way towards him until he suddenly felt a jab to his side, which caused the fifteen year old to jump uncharacteristically. Irritated – was it really so difficult for people to be in large groups without bumping into one another – Keagon turned in the direction of the nudger and realized that it was not, in fact an accident. Oh, how wonderful. All of district 2 was crammed into the town square, and somehow Jonathon had managed to find Keagon. It would have been funny, if it wasn’t so annoying. Really, did this guy have nothing better to do than pick on Keagon?

“Oh. Hey.” Keagon kept his voice neutral as he replied to the older boy. Sure, he was less than thrilled to see the guy, but he hadn’t forgotten since their last encounter (thank God his nose had healed by now) that he didn’t need to get on Jonathon’s bad side. Because if the guy was this annoying now, when he didn’t particularly mind Keagon (at least, that was what the fifteen year old liked to think), he didn’t even want to imagine what it would be like if Jonathon did dislike him. Assuming Keagon didn’t get reaped and that still mattered in five minutes.

The fifteen year old immediately shoved that thought aside and instead turned to look back up at the older boy to whisper, “Shouldn’t you be with the other…” How old was Jonathon? 17? 18? “…Older kids? Or did you just want a better view of the president’s son?” Keagon smirked and waggled his eyebrows at the older boy. Normally he wasn’t one to joke around with people, especially not people he didn’t particularly like, but on the day of the reaping Keagon fluctuated between the extremes of being extremely tense and closed off, and trying to add humor to the situation as a means of distracting himself. At the moment, he had obviously chosen the latter.

His mood immediately switched back to tense, however, when Xander announced the name of the girl tribute. Upon registering who it was and watching the girl make her way to the stage, Keagon rolled his eyes. It took all of the boy’s willpower not to scoff at her, actually. Some career she was, wandering around the training grounds and nearly getting herself killed. It was all fine and dandy if she wanted to put her own life at risk, but her flailing about had nearly gotten Keagon’s arm crushed by a sword, and then she’d had the nerve to get angry at him. After he'd oh-so-politely helped her up and everything! Whatever. Hopefully she’d just get herself killed off, and Keagon wouldn’t have to deal with her. Assuming, once again, that his name wasn’t called.

This time, the fifteen year old couldn’t get the thought out of his head. Not now, when Xander was in the process of choosing a name. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t get chosen. He’d be fine. This was fine. Everything was fine. Fine, fine, fine. So why was his heart racing? Why were his hands curling into fists?Why did Keagon feel the sudden urge to punch...well, everything? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn't going to be him. Odds were it wouldn't even matter who was called, because some older career would just jump up and volunteer. Hell, maybe it would be Jonathon. He was definitely old enough and, as far as Keagon had been able to tell, he was as well prepared as he'd ever be. "Good luck, yeah?" Keagon whispered to older boy, more for his own sake, to give him something to do, than for concern for Jonathon. Was his voice shaking? Of course not! And anyone who told him otherwise would get a fist in their face.

In the corner of Snow's eye, he caught movement in the otherwise still crowd. He noticed an older boy picking on a younger one, but he easily over-looked the act. The boys were far enough away where he couldn't pick out anything more than a murmur, but he couldn't help but feel that he heard his name at one point. But no matter. It was all quieted down as Xander called the name of the girl tribute.

Snow cocked an eyebrow when he say that the girl turned to bid last words to her family. Usually, tributes avoided that at all costs. Every move they made was on tape, after all. But most of that was covered up as it took a moment for the crowd to part and the camera men to find her. North held him gaze too, which he didn't expect. Even thanked Xander. She was definitely one to keep an eye on, that was for sure. Snow could see her turning into a face of defiance. It made him hate her, but also wonder. She took her seat and his eyes strayed back over to her before Xander announced he was moving onto the boys.

"Onto the boys, then! Let's see here..." He paused for a moment to grab and fiddle with a piece of paper. "Keagon Seye!" He looked around for a few seconds finding the boy and waiting for any volunteers, then running through the motions, he said, "congradulations, Keagon! Come to the stage please!" He beamed and slapped his hand on the boy's shoulder as soon as he found the stage. Beaming, Xander continued, "unless there are any last comments, this concludes District Two's Reaping!"

Snow had to admit, he was a little shocked there were no volunteers. With two in District one, he was expecting at least one volunteer, but both of these tributes looked like ones to watch. They would make an interesting combo. Xander found both of the tributes and explained how they would each get a half hour's time at most to say their last goodbye's to whoever showed up. Maybe that would be concerting to hear.

Come on, come on, come on. Pick the name already! Keagon couldn’t stand this, the standing around and waiting. His name was not going to be called, so if Xander could just pick a freaking name and get this whole thing over with, then Keagon could go back to the training grounds and punch the stuffing out of a dummy. That would make him feel better.

But no, of course this idiot from the Capitol had to take his sweet time fiddling with the names. At least he had one now, if he could just get on with it and read the piece of paper then everything would be fine and dandy and then –

What?

For a moment, Keagon didn’t quite register what had happened. Xander had read a name, yes, but…what had the name been? And why were faces in the crowd slowly turning to look at him?

Oh. Oh. The realization hit Keagon like a ton of bricks. For a moment, all thoughts running through his mind came to an abrupt stop, and all he could do was stare straight ahead. And then, as quickly as they’d left, the thoughts rushed through him all at once. Shock that his name had been chosen from all those in the glass bowl. That things had not gone according to plan. Anger, that there was nothing he could do to change this. Keagon Seye would not be able to allow a volunteer to step in for him – not an option. Ever. And fear. Overwhelming, paralyzing fear. Because Keagon was going into the Hunger Games. At fifteen. How much of an advantage did he really have, as a fifteen year old career? Surely all the others would be at least one year older than him, if not three.

Even as he processed all these emotions in a matter of seconds, years of training did not fail the fifteen year old. A voice at the back of his head reminded him; straighten up. Shoulders back. Cue the arrogant smirk. Because as far as the rest of the District – the rest of Panem, even – was concerned, Keagon had been hoping this would happen. He’d had this all planned out, and now he couldn’t wait to take the stage.

Shoving aside the emotions he couldn’t afford to have right now, the fifteen year old made his way to the stage with the same confidence in which he pushed his way through the career training grounds every day. The Games had already begun.

Once he was on stage, Keagon nodded at Xander as the man addressed him, then looked out among the members of his district, cocky smirk still planted on his face. At least the Capitolite hadn’t made the connection between him and Kenton. The last thing he needed at the moment was a reminder of how dismal his prospects probably were to be associated with a loser – though he could always play the revenge card or something, if the time came he needed it.

It was only once Xander stopped talking that Keagon remembered the other tribute on the stage. Shit. He shot her a look out of the corner of his eyes, careful not to show any emotion other than the confidence he'd been displaying since his name was called. Just when he’d thought things couldn’t get much worse…that was his district partner. Fat lot of help she was going to be. On the bright side, maybe Keagon could be the one to kill her. That wouldn’t be so bad…hell, it could be kind of fun.

Look at him, being all optimistic.

"I volunteer as tribute!" yelled Jacob Globe. Even though he was only twelve, and this was his first reaping, he had been itching to force his way into the arena. He waved his hands in the air, desperate to be noticed. Oh good, he thought. Maybe he would be the one to fight.
Jumping and waving, he hoped he would be called up. He wanted to push Keagon out of the way. "I volunteer!" he screamed again and again. There was just a moment of silence of waiting before he could hear the answer.