The 54th Annual Hunger Games

Update
Hey, guys! Okay. I'm going to do it. I'm bringing back the 54th Annual Hunger Games!

Some of you guys have to force me to update because, otherwise, I'm never going to remember. Seriously. My nickname is Dory for a reason.

Okay... Maybe it isn't, but still.

Rules
Hey, guys! I’m Ellie (Eliderautor), and I’ve decided to make my first ever Hunger Games. I’m not the best with formatting on here and creating content boxes and what-not, so I would really appreciate it if you dropped some advice in the comments. Here are my rules for this Hunger Games before I delve into what’s going down:
 * 1) If you wish to submit a tribute, be sure to include their name, age, district, skills, strategy, personality, backstory, fears, strengths, weaknesses, and anything else you can think of. I know that this is a lot to ask for, but it really helps flesh out the characters and better their POVs and what-not.
 * 2) No one except me, Eliderautor, should be editing this page. Period. Not to fix things. Not to do it just for the hell of it. If you do, then I will give you one warning and, if you do it again, I’ll kill your tributes, ban you from my Hunger Games, and notify an admin about this if vandalism is included in your edit.
 * 3) You may submit up to two tributes. But, just because you submit them both does not mean that I’ll pick the two of them. I most likely will not choose your character if there are not very many details surrounding him/her.
 * 4) I will not choose a character who seems idiotic or has no background/bio. That’s just how it is and how it will be for, well... Ever.
 * 5) Do not be inappropriate, immature, or violent in the comments. If this happens, you’ll immediatly get banned and your tribute will be killed immediately.
 * 6) Please stay active, if you can. I don’t want to have anyone submit a character and then disappear from the face of the Earth. That doesn’t really help anything, now does it?
 * 7) (New Rule) I will not accept tributes that are siblings. It is simply not something that I can write well and will hold me back. I apologize.

Tributes Character Sheet
Ah, the tributes. That little part where everyone jumps on board and becomes part of the action. In case you haven’t already made a character page or haven’t really elaborated on that character page enough for me to use it, I want you to fill out the information below so that I can actually write about the tribute.

Name: (Okay, I cannot stress enough about how I don’t want names like Oceania Wateria or Silvia Daggeria (Yes, those are poor examples but still.) in my Games. They are incredibly stupid and your character will not get in if he/she is walking around sporting a name like that.)

Age: (Ages 12 to 18, please. Your character will not be accepted if they are 18 and their birthday is during the Games.)

District: (Districts 1 - 12 are the only ones available.)

Gender: (Male or female only. Any character whose gender is unknown or fluxes will not be accepted.)

Physical Description: (Please submit a short description about your character’s description and a Lunaii. No real image is required, but feel free to submit one if you would like a better chance of being chosen.)

Personality: (This is incredibly important! I want to hear about your character really badly and use him/her, but I cannot do that if you don’t tell me about their personality. If I don’t know how your character talks and thinks, how am I supposed to write from their perspective? There is no such thing as too much in this department.)

Fears: (I’d prefer 2-3 sentences in this category over a simple list of things. If you want a really good chance of being chosen, toss in the reason why your tribute has this fear.)

Weapons: (Please be realistic. Don’t put something like “blowtorch,” “Mutts,” or someting fanciful like that.)

Backstory: (Ah, the backstory - Important, important, important! I can’t write about your character is he/she doesn’t have a past. It doesn’t have to be dramatic or anything. I just want to know if they have any siblings, parents, or any other relatives. I want to know their home environment. How were they raised? Tell me this.)

A Note Before I Begin
Although I have written a train ride or two and have began some tributes' stories, I am going to wait to continue until I have filled up the tribute spots. (12.5.15)

Quick Note
I will either write a train ride or a reaping for the tributes due to the fact that I may want you to see a conversation between the characters instead of a reaping, where you don't really get to see their personalities. If you are opposed to the idea of not seeing your characters getting reaped, please tell me in the comments and I will see what I can do.

District One
It was the year of sickness in District One, the year that Agleam knew no one would raise a hand to volunteer for fear of crumbling to the ground in a coughing fit. He almost felt sorry for whoever would be reaped; if they were ill, too, their journey in the games would be far from easy. But, as long as he wasn't reaped, that pity wouldn't be stretched too thin. The rest of the room was saved for relief.

Compassion wasn't foreign to the boy. But it was only natural that he would be glad to keep his head another year.

His blue eyes scanned the crowds, irises landing upon men who towered above the fourteen year old boy yet seemed to have a grayish tint to their skin and women who, once, would've fought over a spot in the Games but now held their heads down, praying for healing from whatever God they loved. He was just glad he was in good health.

One girl, all dark hair and full lips, seemed to be the only light spot in the crowd of gray. But she was fiddling with the ring on her finger, turning it over and over out of habit. The green surface shimmered in the sunlight. It was eternity before Agleam pulled his eyes away. There was no time to dwell on little things. It was the Reaping, not a social.

It felt like only seconds had passed before a woman, eyelashes longer than Agleam thought physically possible and hair a deep green like the algae that rolled with the ocean's waves, walked onto the stage and grinned a hundred watt smile at the crowd. Her skin was dyed green, of all things, and she was wearing electric green colored contacts. It was rather obvious that she'd taken a fancy to the color.

Valeria Pymont. The announcer for District One and escort for the future contestants. The boy and girl, watching her smile down at them and not even realizing that they would soon join her on stage.

"Welcome," Valeria began, her voice a cool frost that settled over the crowd. Agleam could already feel chills crawling up his spine and digging their fingertips into his blonde hair. "Children, parents, and future winners of the Games!" Her smile looked like a child had scribbled it on with a crayon. The woman's attempts to rally the crowd were futile as half the people standing looked like they were going to pass out right then and there and need medical attention.

Once Valeria (Finally) realized this, she released a bored sigh and wiped the grin from her features. She'd had so much work done, though, that the edges of her lips still curled up. "Well, let's get on with this. Girls first, I suppose."

''Click, click. ''Her heels sounded like a clock counting down the minutes to... Well, Agleam knew that the end of that sentence would just freak him out, so he tried to calm his heart and swallow the lump in his throat. You're fourteen, he told himself. ''Your name is barely in there! Come on, Agleam. Don't be an idiot. You're going to be alright. ''

Valeria wasted no time with a showy performance or a speech. No one was listening, anyways. Her hand just dived into the bowl and grabbed the first white card she saw. The woman hastily unwrapped it, then boredly looked to the crowd and announced, "Karenina Calismere."

Blue eyes looked to the stage, wide with shock. But they weren't Agleams. No, they belonged to the girl with the ring he'd spotted earlier. People turned to look at her, some moving aside so she could make her way to the stage. They looked to her with pity or envy. Some wanted to be her right then, healthy and on a train to the famous arena. Others had a feeling that she wouldn't be back alive. She wasn't a Career. She was just another girl with a piece of jewelry that would probably be taken before her feet touched the arena. That's what they thought, anyways.

She tilted her head back, looking to the sky as if in a silent plea, then glanced back to the stage and began to walk forward. Her feet were weighed down by invisible cinder blocks.

No one volunteered. District One was silent.

Valeria slung a green arm over her shoulder, Karenina flashing her a cold look in response. "Any words? Speeches?" Valeria put the microphone before Karenina, but the girl just shoved it aside. The ice had melted from her features and been replaced by stone. She was emotionless. A doll that the Capital had added to its collection.

Then it was time for the boys. The same ceremony went by: Hand diving, woman unwrapping, and lips moving to form the name of the next contestant.

"Agleam Delmont."

The heartbeat that he had once tried to still stopped completely. Not for himself, but for- "Zephyr," he muttered beneath his breath, surprised he could even speak. The brother that would volunteer. The brother that would risk his life to save Agleam. And Agleam wouldn't let him do that.

Agleam held his head high, looked to the stage, and stepped forward. "No one volunteer," he snapped, surprised by the ferocity in his voice. He was normally kinder. Gentler. But this was a game you couldn't win with words.

And no one volunteered. The silence remained.

Deep in his heart, Agleam prayed that, if and when he returned, the noise would be back and he would join in in rejoicing.

District Two
Instead of a Reaping for District 2, I decided that the best way to show Courtney and Eugene’s characters and relationships would be to let them have a short conversation on the train.

Eugene stared out the window of the train, his blue eyes searching for something to focus on in the awkward silence. The girl who was at the other end of the cart was fiddling with her fingernails, an unfriendly vibe coming from her side of the area. Geno didn’t want to make things any more uncomfortable than they already were, but he didn’t really have a choice.

“So… Your name is Courtney right?” The brunette gave her a warm look that wasn’t returned. “I’m Eugene, but all my friends call me Geno.”

It felt like eternity before his fellow tribute replied. “Guess I won’t be calling you that.” Everything about her was stony and uninviting. Geno had a feeling that he wouldn’t like her.

The exceptional scenery outside flashed by, district after district melting away. A light frost was sparkling on the plants, creating a serene aura. It was the perfect scenery to the boy at that moment. Yet, the fact that the prissy girl would not respond to him was still getting on his nerves.

Eugene decided to give talking another go. “So, you were just plucked from the girls in Two, right?” Courtney didn’t respond. She just turned away rudely. But it wasn’t like Geno to give up. He just started getting annoyed… And stubborn. He decided to take a different approach to the girl. A more flirtatious one.

Straightening up a bit and putting on one of his signature smiles, he looked over Courtney and purred, “You know, you’re quite the sight. Are you sure that you aren’t an angel?” Everything that he was doing would’ve made any girl from back home faint in awe. But Courtney wasn’t just any girl.

“You can shut up now. I’m not here to make friends, and I’m certainly not in the mood to flirt with a guy like you.” Her brown eyes flickered up and locked with Eugene’s. His had hardened a bit, and any signs of being friendly vanished.

Allies. That’s what he had wanted to be. The girl was muscular and had the look of a Victor. But that didn’t mean that she was one. Eugene felt that she couldn’t get to the second day without his help. He could be cocky like that.

Now they would be enemies. In the arena. In the train. They would spend their last dying breath on curses meant for one another. It was no use trying to team up with someone who would try and stab them in the back later on. Literally.

A silence settled over them one last time. “I don’t think I like you,” he stated. “And that’s going to come back and haunt you when we’re in the arena.”

Courtney didn’t care enough to acknowledge this statement.

District Three
Work in progress.

District Four
Men and women flooded the area, sidestepping the blonde standing in the middle. A boy with red hair accidentally bumped into her from behind, and before his frustrations started rolling poff his tongue, the boy had turned to her, looked her over, and silently decided to let the girl be. It was no shocker that Vassëna was gorgeous. It practically came with the family title: Myndwood, the family of Victors and prestige.

More women and children entered, little girls holding onto their parents’ hands and little boys whimpering and hiding beneath their mother’s shawl. Fear rippled throughout the men and women in the audience. But the blonde couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement. It was more than obvious that she was confident in her safety. She’d never been reaped before – Why would it happen now?

A woman wearing a pair of jet-black high heels and a slinky neon green dress walked onto the stage, half of her pink hair shaved off into adramatic design and the other half curled so stiffly that you could snap it in half. Vassëna recognized her as Cordelia Myrance, a Capital escort and the announcer for District 4. In one of her distant memories, Cordelia had once fallen down the stairs while trying to exit and her hair had simply broken off. No one had really known whether to laugh or gasp.

Cordelia tapped the microphone once with her long fingernail, the earsplitting screech bouncing around the room. “Welcome,” she purred with her smooth voice. “Welcome, one and all, men and women, women and children.” Her cat like eyes skimmed over everyone in the audience in an almost disgusted way. She seemed to be appalled by how plain everyone was. “Today is the day that changes it all. One of you will become… A Tribute.”

Vassëna rolled her eyes, looking away from the prissy woman on stage and setting a hand on her hip. Her own outfit was a cotton disaster in her opinion, not showing off her curves and edges like she wanted it to. Her seductiveness was her greatest asset, and it made it difficult to utilize this trait if she looked like a little girl who’d gotten into her mother’s makeup.

Brushing a few pink strands away from her face, Cordelia continued with that same grim expression. It was almost like she was disappointed in how poor everyone was. ''Like they can help that. ''Running her fingers over a small card, the dark woman continued. “We have a special video prepared by the glorious President himself. Everyone, please turn your attention to the screens.” Cordelia turned with light in her eyes, focusing on the monitor behind her.

The video played every year, broadcasting everything that went on before the Districts. It showed death and gore, something that the Districts were pretty used to. Then the face of President Snow appeared on the screen, smiling that dark smile of his. He was a man in his late 50s, the tips of his silky brown hair turning gray. A small white rose was tucked into his front pocket, the petals covered in a light sheen. The flag of Panem blared behind him perkily, and Vassëna yawned out of boredom.

His speech was dull, as usual. The video played every year and said the exact same thing. The only difference was the fact that he slowly got older and more sinister. The rose still remained the same, though. It was a creepy aspect if you thought about it. The rose could be considered a symbol. Almost like he was refusing to let old things die…

“And that is why we have the Games,” Snow ended, looking dead-on at the camera. “Happy Hunger Games.” Then the video cut and the screens returned to the District’s symbol. Cordelia was smiling again, but it now seemed more forced. “Isn’t that just…” Cordelia took in a deep breath and waited a second before returning to that smile. “Wow. Our President sure is a keeper.”

Vassëna scoffed, examining the way that Cordelia was carrying herself. The woman made a comment before stalking over to the bowl of girls’ names and holding her hand above it momentarily, then plunging it into the sea of paper. She moved her hand inside of the bowl and fished around for the perfect piece of paper. The seconds turned to hours as the perfect name was being selected.

Then her hand reappeared, a small slip between her thumb and forefinger. Cordelia slowly read over it, taking a moment to pucker her lips before breaking into another smile. It was a sadistic time for a grin.

“Rose Xavier.”

A hush fell over the audience as they searched for the person who owned the name. Vassëna’s eyes landed on a little girl whose hair was done in braids. She was staring at the ground and whimpering. Another girl behind her shoved her forward, smirking because she herself hadn’t gotten reaped. The look of terror on Rose’s face was evident, and Vassëna remembered the orphaned animals that she had stumbled across in the past. They had had no hope.

But the blonde had a feeling that she could save the girl. Empathy took over and, before she could truly process what she was doing, her hand shot into the air and the words, “I volunteer as tribute,” left her lips.

The rest went by in a blur. Peacekeepers. Smiles. People moving out of the way. She told her name to the escort, who simply nodded and gestured for her to move back. Vassëna obeyed without question.

“Next up…” Cordelia repeated the routine, trying to find the perfect contender for the Games. “Robert Shannon.” This time, a volunteer appeared much quicker than Vassëna. Red hair was his defining feature, brightening his appearance quite a bit. He was an attractive boy who appeared to be around eighteen years old, which meant that this was his last reaping.

That is, if he lived to see the next one.

“Do you have a name, or are we just going to have to call you Boy Tribute?” Cordelia looked to the audience like she was some sort of comedian, but no one laughed. She earned a few eye rolls, though.

The redhead replied with a sort of kind grin, “Axel. Axel Tubman.” He then proceeded to back up and near Vassëna, waiting for a few minutes before turning his head slightly and winking. It was a joking gesture and everyone could tell. Yet, something about it rubbed the blonde the wrong way.

Deep, deep down, Vassëna had a feeling that he was going to be at the top of her kill list.

District Five
Work in progress.

District Six
Work in progress.

District Seven
Perhaps it was the way that the sun seemed to be darker the morning of her last reaping that first tipped Katy off. Or maybe it was the way that she had suffered through another night or night-terrors, all revolving around the same thing – hands wrapping around the young girl’s throat and cutting off her airways''. ''Katy never really did figure out the main source of her fear that day. She just pushed it behind her and moved on with her life.

Her older brother’s shadow was tossed before her bed, the branches outside her window warping its figure. “Hey, sleepyhead,” Luke greeted quietly. His voice was a deep growl that could barely hold its place. He was never the family member who had much to say.

Ignoring his greeting, the girl stretched her arms out and released a long yawn. Her brown locks were matted and wild, curls racing in all directions. She made a note to herself to take a brush to her hair before the reaping.

Luke tousled a bit of his strawberry blonde hair habitually before trudging back off to where he came from. It was no use vying for his sister’s attention – The girl had shut him out years before that fateful morning. He didn’t blame her. When their brother, Michael, had taken an axe to the leg and had bled to death, Luke had only thought of selfish things. The girl had never been able to forgive him.

Katy slipped a soft blue dress over her head and straightened it out with her hands, trying her hardest to get rid of the wrinkles that had set in overnight. It was no use, so she gave up trying and picked up her comb from the nightstand. The tangles were impossible to get out, and Katy was afraid that she was going to yank a clump of hair out of her scalp. But that didn’t stop her from pulling with all her might. It was Katy verses her hair, and the girl was determined to beat all odds.

When she finally got her hair back to its silky texture, she glanced over her reflection once before trying on her best accessory – A smile. This was one thing that she never left the house without. It was how she protected herself. It was her way of inviting people in.

Footsteps approached her door frame once more, and Luke peeked his head into the room. He had a tired appearance about him that he wore like armor. It was like someone had forced him to run three marathons back to back without any breaks. “You look very pretty,” the brother offered bashfully. The two rarely had nice conversations that were two sided.

“You don’t,” she muttered in response, not looking away from her reflection. “Would you please just give me some space?” Her blue eyes flashed with a dark emotion that was hard to place, but the girl masked it quickly and replaced it with her smile. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was one that showed hurt and frustration.

His eyes flickering to the floor ashamedly, Luke replied, “Katy, let’s just try and get along for one day. It’s the reaping. I don’t want to lose you.” The girl continued to pretend like he wasn’t there, her hands absentmindedly fiddling with the wooden pendant she wore around her neck. Once upon a time, a brother that she would have laid down her life for had gifted it to her. But fantasies never stay for long, and that fairytale died with Michael. Luke’s eyes hardened, and he said in a harsher tone than he meant to, “Fine. Be that way. I won’t be here to comfort you when you get reaped.”

Maybe that’s when he first stepped over the line. Maybe that was the moment that something clicked behind Katy’s eyes and she stopped thinking in a rational way.

“I’m getting reaped, huh?” The girl turned on her heels. “That’s quite an accusation.” She took a step towards him, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes. “You’ll be glad to see another McKay die, right? You sure did seem to enjoy watching Michael bleed. Weren’t your exact words, ‘Now I’ll be your favorite brother”? Yeah, I think they were.” Ice laced her words.

Luke’s heart rate sped up. “No, Katy, I didn’t mean i-”

The girl held up her hand to silence him. “No. I know exactly what you meant.” Then she turned away from him and returned to her reflection, straightening up and flashing one last smile. It would be good practice for the following afternoon.

oOo

The audience buzzed with electricity, terror flooding the young childrens’ words. A girl who couldn’t be more than twelve was whimpering pitifully beside Katy. She was scanning those around her for a familiar face but found no one, her fist clenching and unclenching in panic. Katy bit her lower lip, inhaling deeply before looking at the little girl and saying firmly, “Hey, are you okay?”

The girl looked at her, surprised, before shakily nodding. “Don’t worry,” Katy purred. “You won’t get picked. It’s your first year, right?”

“Second,” she whispered. “My name is Annie.” Annie’s wide blue eyes connected with Katy’s, and a sense of peace washed over her. There was something nice about Katy that Annie simply couldn’t put her finger on. “I watched the Games last year, and I don’t want that to happen to me.”

A half smile tugged at the edge of Katy’s lips, and she shook her head. “Don’t worry, Annie. It’s going to be fine. You won’t get reaped.” Just as she opened her mouth to say more, the sound of someone tapping on a microphone made the rows of anxious people stiffen.

A man stood at the front of the stage, his hair a pastel blue and his lips coated in a thick substance. He was grinning with unnaturally perfect teeth that were practically glowing in the harsh light. “Welcome, lovelies,” he began, holding his arms out in a welcoming way, “to the 54th Annual Hunger Games.” His perfectly pressed lavender suit crinkled slightly at the elbow, and it made Katy almost cringe. Any sight of imperfection on him was unnerving.

Annie’s hand brushed up against Katy’s, and the girl took it carefully and squeezed it as a sign of reassurance. The crowd was so silent that you could’ve heard a fly buzz away.

Then they were all going through the motions. The man in blue gave a short little speech, waving his hands dramatically in that comical way, and a video was shown on the screen behind him. It was a stupid thing that broadcasted the way that the Districts had “risen from the ashes.” Katy though it was just a load of hot air.

As the man in blue mouthed along to the words, Katy let her attention drift to the crowd that pressed in on her. She recognized a girl who went to school with her – Amy Jacobson – and a boy who she had once ran into in the marketplace. Then her eyes fell on him. The boy was tall with dark brown hair and a pair of blue eyes that were looking around curiously. He had a casual smile and an altogether nice air about him. But there was something that seemed to draw her gaze to him. Something that Katy couldn’t put her finger on.

Then silence settled over the area, and the man in blue clapped his hands. “Alright,” he started excitedly. “It’s time to choose our very lucky boy and girl.” His smile was so phony that it looked like someone had painted it on. Annie’s little fingers tightened around Katy’s, but the girl herself was too nervous to do anything about it.

The footsteps of the man in blue echoed across the stage as he neared the girls’ bowl. His hand danced above the bowl for what felt like eternity before his hand plunged into it and clutched a single white card. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Time was just an illusion as the paper unfolded and the name left the man’s lips.

“Cynthia Fowler.”

Although it wasn’t her name that had been called, the tension in Katy’s muscles did not leave. In fact, it became more prominent as her thoughts began to race through her mind. The image of her brother’s bloody body fought its way to the front of her mind as she remembered Luke’s words: “I won’t be here to comfort you when you get reaped.”

The last thing she wanted was to make him a liar.

The words left her mouth before she knew what had happened. “I volunteer!” The silence that settled over everyone was now thicker and more intense. A volunteer. This was such a rare thing. Yet, it was something that sent a jolt of excitement up the spines of the audience.

Peacekeepers rushed towards the sound of her voice, grabbing her arms and shoving Katy forward. Katy gasped in surprise, frustration crossing over her features as she yanked away from their grasps and straightened up. Her steps were confident as she made her way to the stage, focusing on the man in blue’s overly excited expression.

“Do you have a name, dearie?” he asked, gesturing towards the microphone. Katy scanned the audience briefly for a familiar face – Someone to “talk” to at that exact moment. But she had lost Annie in the audience and Amy was nowhere to be seen.

Then she saw a flicker of blue and her attention was directed towards the boy she had seen before. He was giving her a smile of approval, a strange thing to see at a reaping. But it flooded her with confidence.

“Katy. My name is Katy McKay.”

A hand patted the girl on the back as she was told to move backwards, something she responded to without hesitation.

The drawing for the boy was much shorter. The man in blue went to the bowl and tried to make the reaping a spectacle, acting like some corny game show host. No one paid his act much attention. They focused on the little white slip with a name on it.

“Charles Palamo.”

A gasp erupted from the lips of many, shock flooding the area. ''The mayor’s son. ''There was something about the turn of events that followed that made the reaping one to remember. For, as the young boy shuffled towards the stage, a hand near the front shot up and a loud voice proclaimed, “I volunteer as tribute!”

Two volunteers was unheard of. This was an occasion that happened once ever blue moon.

Katy searched for the owner of the hand and found the mystery boy striding towards the stage, his walk full of energy and thrill. The brunette looked to him in curiosity, trying to figure out who this guy was. He was muscular and obviously attractive, (The girls in the audience sure made this obvious) but there was something about him that was… different.

“Another volunteer!” The man in blue looked positively overjoyed. “This is quite the turnout. Do you have a name?” His fake eyelashes batted excitedly.

The boy straightened up before taking the microphone between his hands and announcing, “My name is Boston. Boston Van Ackerton.” His gaze landed on Katy, and he appeared to almost be sending her a hidden message. One of hope. One of reassurance.

Perhaps it was the way that the sun seemed to be darker the morning of her last reaping that first tipped Katy off. Or maybe it was the way that she had suffered through another night or night-terrors, all revolving around the same thing – hands wrapping around the young girl’s throat and cutting off her airways''. ''Katy never really did figure out the main source of her fear that day. She just pushed it behind her and moved on with her life.

For, on that fateful day, Katy knew that if she didn’t push it behind her, she would never get anywhere in the arena.

District Eight
Work in progress.

District Nine
Work in progress.

District Ten
Work in progress.

District Eleven
Work in progress.

District Twelve
Work in progress.