#catchingmockinggames

[ais-stark-blog]

The Reaping | Aislinn Stark

This morning Aislinn was helping her dad collect their corn that was ready to be reaped. She filled barrel after barrel until the afternoon sun took its place in the sky. That morning had been cold and gray outside, and it was almost sickeningly hot and blue now. Nessa, Aislinn's om, called the sixteen year old inside to get changed and ready for the reaping that would soon take in the square. Aislinn did as she bid after parking the barrel under the canopy of curtain she had made when summer began. She then headed inside and found a light mint dress hanging on her closet foor with black flat shoes on the floor. Aislinn frowned. She hated wearing frilly things, even when she wore skirts the were always the plain sort; blue and down to her knees the way she liked it.

With a sigh, she shrugged out of her worn out brown shorts and white t-shirt, replacing them with the dress that now hung from her body instead of the door. She slipped on her plain black shoes, completely unaware she even owned these until now. Nessa knocked politely on the door before entering to find her daughters hair a matted mess. "Are you going to do something with your hair?" She asked, and Aislinn shrugged. "I'll probably just brush it." Nessa shook her head with a smile. "May I?" Aislinn nodded, permitting Nessa to come closer. As Aislinn began buttoning the chest of her dress, her mom began to detangle her hair with a comb. "Ow," Aislinn groaned, her brows furrowing at the tugging of her roots. "Ow!" She whined again and Nessa only laughed. "Hold still, Ais. You're going to make it worse if you move." Nessa had always had this proble with Aislinn ever since she was little. The child would always go running off into trouble and mayhem with the other district kids, and when she would return home she'd refuse to take a bath or complain that brushing her hair hurt. This was usually due to the dried mud that lumped her locks together. Theo, Aislinn's dad, always found it amusing that his little girl and only child was more like him than anyone elses daughters were. He'd call her things like 'champ', or 'bud' and it was always completely normal for her until she started growing up.

Aislinn buttoned the last of them as Nessa was finishing with the ends of her locks. "I'm sure Deacon will be impressed once he sees you." Her mom grinned, peeking over to catch Aislinn's reaction. She could feel a blush threatening to color her cheeks, but tried her best not to let it show. Aislinn cleared her throat and swallowed with a shrug. "So what if he is? I couldn't care less." Her words were an obvious lie to anyone who had seen them together. They'd both taken a liking to each other, but neither had made a move. Nessa nodded, pulling Aislinn's hair into one long braid with twists at the temple to keep it out of her face. "There, all done." She secured the braid with a small band and stepped back as Aislinn turned to face her. "You really look like a lady." Aislinn made a foul sound as she pretended to gag at the words and Nessa only laughed. "Okay, I admit, it is strange to see. I prefer the Aislinn Stark I see every day to--" Aislinn cut in, "to the one that has to wear dresses and pretend to look pretty for one event? Me too." Nessa shook her head, "I'll see you the square. I have to get ready myself." Aislinn nodded and waited for her mom to leave before she twirled once, her dress fanning out around her. She felt girly which was rare.

Exiting her house was the most nerve wrecking feeling. She knew that as she walked alone she'd see girls skipping and smiling together; either because of their new dresses or because they were out of the age range to be reaped and got to look their best for the boys and men. Aislinn could understand that much. She trotted down her front steps, resisting the urge to turn away and walk right back inside when she saw the very same girls who made fun of her on a daily basis. It was even worse now seeing their lacy pink dresses in comparison to her plain mint green one. They looked like they had just come out of the Capitol with glitter in their hair and frilled socks under their buckled shoes. Aislinn swallowed and picked up her speed to pass them before they noticed her. It worked for a moment until she heard the whiny voice of Marabelle Lockswood.

"What is she wearing?" The blonde brat whispered to her redheaded friend. Aislinn had forgotten her name. "It looks like someone vommitted all over her!" The two began to giggle, but Aislinn ignored it as she always tried to do. She remembered the first time they'd cornered her and spat insults at her face. She'd felt so helpless, especially when they mentioned her weight. She wasn't overweight, but this was something Aislinn had struggled with for years. She was never thin enough in her eyes although most people would disagree. She felt something wet hit the back of her ankle, sticking to her skin. Stopping in her tracks, she heard the giggles and laughter of the three behind her as she looked down to inspect herself. She found a glob of mud caking her skin and the hem of her dress. As much as she was angry, she wasn't surprised. Turning around, Aislinn bit the inside of her lip as the girls approached. Marabelle, of course, had the muddy evidence on the toe of her shoe. "A farmers daughters work is just never done. Why don't you go back home and take another bath, you smell like the pigs you keep." The redhead laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard while the third, Fresta Doyle, snickered and looked up away from Aislinn. "Seriously, where'd you get that dress? Was it  another hand-me-down? It's god awful, I'd be embarrased if I were you. It's hard enough keeping my breakfast down while I look at it." The other two just kept laughing, impressed with anything Marabelle did. Aislinn had heard enough. Her blood was coiling inside her and no one was around to bear witness to what was happening, so she decided to take a chance.

She marched forward, taking Marabelle by the shoulders and rocking her hard from side to side until the blonde lost her balance. As he legs bent and she was slipping into her fall, Aislinn shoved her down into the mud. The redhead and Fresta Doyle gasped, backing away from the mud to protect their own attire. Aislinn didn't say a word as she stood tall over a sqealing Marabelle. She watched her lift her muddy hands and cry out threats. "I hope it's you they choose! It better be you!" Marabelle called after Aislinn as she took off towards the square leaving her three enemies behind. She'd never done something like that before, but she'd lost her cool and she truly didn't feel bad about it. They had it coming in her eyes.

Aislinn arrived out of breath and panting as the lady at the table pricked her finger for attendance. Aislinn nodded and turned to join her group. She felt someones hand brush her arm and when she looked she saw Deacon. "Hey," he greeted her with a smile, "you do know you've got mud on your leg, right?" Aislinn had forgotten to clean herself up. Aislinn nodded. "Yeah, um... Marabelle thought it would be funny." She replied with a shrug, silently admiring the way he looked in his blue collared shirt and grey pants. "So she got her kicks... pathetic." Deacon shook his head with an aggitated sigh. He was the only one who ever stuck up for her and Aislinn appreciated it. "It doesn't matter," Deacon looked down at her as she began, "I had the last laugh this time." She gave him a smile as she turned off to her right to stand with the other sixteen year old girls. From the corner of her eye she could see the confused expression on his face. It was two whole seconds until he finally joined the boys of his age group too. Once everyone was accounted for, the ceremony began. There was the video of the history of the Hunger Games which they played every year. Aislinn could practically recite every word by heart now. Once that was over, the 'fun' as Effie Trinket liked to call it began. First they would start with the girls. Just as the Capitol woman dipped her hand into the bowl and snatched up one of the many pieces of folded paper, there came a loud cry from the back of the square. All heads, including Aislinn's turned to see what was happening. She was pleasantly surprised to see Marabelle Lockswood standing among her group, sobbing louder now than ever. Perhaps she was embarrassed that if she were called, she'd have to go up on stage in front of the entire district looking like she did thanks to Aislinn.

The brunette snickered, glancing at Deacon who caught her eye as she turned. They exchanged smirks, obviously he had caught on as to how Aislinn had the last laugh. Effie cleared her throat loudly in the microphone and resumed her speech. "This years girl tribute from district ten will be..." Everything was suddenly silent, including Marabelle's sobs. The long pause had everyone on their toes, some leaning forward like they were struggling to hear the silence. Finally, Effie spoke. "Aislinn Stark!"

Some people cheered, others breathed sighs of relief. There were the two that broke into tears, those being her parents and the one that looked at her as she began her walk to the middle isle. That one was Deacon. Marabelle's words now rang loud in her ears. "I hope it's you they choose! It better be you!" Maybe this was the price she payed for what she had done. It was hardly fair considering how many time Marabelle and her friends had tormented Aislinn. Maybe people like Marabelle just always won. President Snow was a perfect example of that. Aislinn reached the stage in silence as Effie took her hand. "Congratulations." Aislinn nodded. "Our boy tribute from district ten will be..." The same pause came again but this time all the boys were on edge. "Flynn Garreth!" Aislinn didn't know him. However it was safe to assume he was feeling what she was right now as he made his way up to the stage to join her. Effie took his hand then and congratulated him as well. "I give you district tens tributes for the seventy-second annual Hunger Games!" Some cheered, others nodded and a small amount made their exit.

Aislinn kept her eyes on one person. It was too hard to look at her parents who looked as if they had just gotten the news that she was already dead. Deacon stood tall where he was, their gazes locked. He mouthed the words, "I'm sorry." And she nodded. In that moment, Aislinn knew this was an eternal goodbye.

[ezra-agiris-blog]

Self || A Hunter Falls For His Prey

Ezra had spent his entire first twenty-four hours in the arena walking. He didn't know where he was walking to, only that he had to get as far away from the other tributes as possible. His clothes were soaked in blood that didn't belong to him and now he would never know who's it was. There were no memorial services after the games; not outside of families and rarely District's. Something about the claret taunted him. It told him to keep on moving and not look back. He fastened his hand around the walking stick he'd made from a fallen tree branch which consequently could also be used as a weapon. It was hardly two hours into daylight now and he wanted nothing more than to drop into the snow and sleep. His eyes had reddened with the skin surrounding from exhaustion. Each blink burned but Ezra gave himself no choice but to keep on going. He was close to the mountain now and managed to avoid all the unwanted faces he'd been forced to become acquainted with. The Career's had mocked and taunted him in the training center, but Ezra had given them no more than an irritated sigh in return and continued on his snares, camouflage, and throwing techniques. True enough, he had no spears, no knives, trident, arrows or packs. Just his walking stick. Maybe it wasn't such a brilliant plan to walk around an area full of twenty-three other motivated killers empty handed, but the choice had kept him alive this long and that was more than a reasonable exchange for him.

The sun shone gold as it continued to rise like their tribute plates had,until it found its place. Ezra reminded himself that this was all artificial and if by some chance the odds decided to be in his favor, he made a mental note to commend the gamemakers on their work. He had to wonder how many technicians they might have imported from District 3 for the arena creations every year, but as this thought had no purpose making an appearance now of all times, he dismissed it from the thread in his mind and continued marching through the thick blankets. His toes stung through his boots; the cold that had been trapped in the snow began seeping through the leather, then took its tole with his socks until his feet felt as stiff as icicles. Despite the circumstances, it was a beautiful day though you wouldn't know it if you didn't over analyze and observe things the way Ezra did. The heat had long left his breath and sweat stained his forehead. The occasional wind that visited him always sent a gust of refreshment, cooling him off every time. Ezra was thankful for that.

He kept on his way, huffing for air until he reached the top of the hill he'd been working towards all night. Over his shoulder he could see the village far below. From this view the Cornucopia didn't look so far away. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to get here, but here he stood with a cramp starting in his leg. "Come on," he told himself, doing his best to pace his inhales and exhales. The bridge was only a few feet away.

Hardly a few minutes later and Ezra was kneeling at the river bank. He dropped his walking stick beside him in the snow and cupped his hands, dipping them into the water and pulling some of it out. He slurped it from his palms thirstily, repeating the action five more times until his teeth caught a chill and he forced himself to stop. His hands were stinging, the air colder on them now that they were wet. It was worth it in every way without a doubt. He was hydrated and earned the right to rest by his standards. One thing still remained: He was alone. A bird cawed overhead as it flew by, but it was too high for him to recognize it. He did take note of the length of its wings though and decided it must have been an eagle or hawk. Perhaps a falcon, but that was pushing it. His hair stuck to his forehead as he leaned back into his own snow molded chair, watching the water swish between a calm and rapid state. Little things like that brought him happiness for unexplained reasons. He smiled with his blue eyes, which happened to catch sight of a sudden movement in the water. Perplexed by this, Ezra sat up. He rested his elbows on his knees, doing his best not to blink in case he missed it the second time. To his fascination, he didn't. The small, ever so slight movement caused the water to bounce. Ezra leaned closer on his hands and knees to see what was the meaning of this. The simplest of explanations came into view; a small fish--cod by the looks of it. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty hungry. Ezra hopped up to his feet, looking around for something he could use as a means of capturing his first meal in the arena.

Surveying his surroundings, Ezra took everything into account: A bridge--no. Trees--no. Snow--definitely not. He decided it had to be his hands. Standing up, Ezra did his best to plant his feet in the ground as he leaned over the river. "Careful.... easy now, that's right..." He said to himself, occasionally glancing up to make sure he was alone. Ezra reached into the water, clapping his hands together quickly but came up empty handed. He'd never caught fish before let alone made an attempt so it was safe to say he had no idea what he was doing. He was at it for twenty minutes until he managed to lose his footing and fall face first into river with a sound of surprise. Crawling out, Ezra was shivering so rapidly that if someone were to tell him his bones were going to split, he might have actually believed it. He crawled back to the dented snow and curled up, hugging his body as he continued to shake in rhythm with his chattering teeth. He wanted it to stop and somehow have the snow melt away under a hot sun that would kiss his skin like it always did during summer. That was all in the gamemakers hands. His eyes surveyed the river again and it was only a matter of seconds before he saw the jump in the water. Ezra wanted his fish. He stood up, his knees buckling to the point that he almost fell over twice. His hands were a pale pink and stiff, beyond any use at this point. "I'll get you..." he mumbled under his breath, irritated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezra saw his walking stick lying lifelessly in the same spot he'd dropped it. "How could I be so stupid!" Ezra scolded himself, stomping over to his stick before picking it up angrily and marching back to the water. He growled with every attempt he made to catch his prey and after ten minutes, he found his first success. He pierced the cod fish right through with the pointy end of his walking stick and now dubbed it as not only a walking stick and a weapon, but a hunting tool too! He smiled, still shivering as he flipped his stick and brought his fish right up to his eyes. It looked good, healthy, not too thin. But how would he cook it?

Five minutes of debating this and Ezra gave up. He coated it with snow and added some leaves from one of the trees above the river bank and scarfed it down, forcing himself to keep it inside him. He spat the bones into his palm and decided that he better keep them because things that seemed useless at the time often turned out to be useful some time later. He tucked them safely away in his coat pocket and carried his walking stick with him to his place under the bridge. It was a good hiding spot in his eyes: easy to defend, not as obvious as the caves and close to a food and water source. If he played his cards right, he could go unnoticed here for as long as the fish swam. His only worry was that he might develop a severe case of hypothermia sooner than expected.

[jonah-miyo-d13-blog]

That Time Of Year Again: A seriously overdue post.

Jonah stared at the screen that displayed the Games. Although there weren't too many televisions in Thirteen, this one was decent enough, especially given what it played. He didn't get it. Why even watch them? Part of him knew that it was because most of them would end up where he was, but he didn't have to like it. It seemed sadder for some reason, watching people die while being so far removed from it. Of course, Thirteen wasn't that far away from The Capitol but it seemed different because of how underground they were.

He watched as yet another kid lost their life to the game. Although there was nothing he could do in Nine it made him angry that he couldn't do anything in Thirteen. Wasn't that the point? To stop the Games? All he'd done since he'd arrived was work his finger to the bone and follow a schedule everyday that even told him when he could bathe. As much as he hated to admit it, he kind of wanted the war to start. He wanted to do something, not just sit around and become frustrated. Giving up on watching the screen Jonah retired to his room, trying to avoid the eyes of everyone he passed in the halls. He hadn't seen anyone he knew in a while, they'd all been busy and when they weren't rushed off their feet they were sleeping. Which pretty much summed up the monotonous life one could have in Thirteen.

Pulling his legs up to his chest, he leaned against the wall as he sat on his bed. He didn't particularly want to sleep, but it was better to sit in silence than to sit and watch the Games when he knew what the inevitable outcome was going to be. Glancing over at the bed adjacent to his he idly wondered where his roommate had got to. He hadn't seen the little guy in quite a while, which was a blessing and a curse because the kid had a tendency to freak him out on any given day. But the guy had been in the Games and that was enough to drive anyone at little to the left of the field.

Sighing he closed his eyes and wished his mind to quieten so he could get some rest. Even though the Games were on everyone still had to work, and yet at any given time there was always quite a few people watching that screen. Letting his mind drift to other things Jonah gave himself over to sleep, an easy escape in an uneasy time.

[everyone-loves-an-underdog-blog]

Mixin' It Up.

Seneca frowned as he pondered what to do with the arena. It was a couple of days into the Games and so far only four had died. The excitement that came with their deaths was starting to wear off, which meant he needed to do something soon or he was going to loose the audience's attention. One of the good things about an arena covered in snow was the oppurtunity for camoflague, which Seneca planned to exploit as much as he could.

Walking back over to the control desk he watched his technicians work.

"Is it ready?"

"Almost sir."

Watching with the patience of a child on Christmas morning he grinned when his Mutt appeared in a hologram in front of his face. It was perfect, and it was sure tio keep the audience's attention because he was sure that they would keep the tributes busy for the foreseeable future.

Ajolote Lizards.

More specifically, giant Ajolote Lizards. They were perfect because of their shape, and because of the fact he'd given them the ability to camoflague into the snow. Of course he'd made some other change, not only were they large and almost invisible in the snow, but their teeth could cut their skin and bone as easily as a knife through butter. They on top of the fact that there were blood thirsty and fast made them the perfect Mutt to start the Game off with.

He nodded, "Release them."

[OOC: If you don't know what an Ajolote Lizard is, here you go.]

[everyone-loves-an-underdog-blog]

Let The Games Begin

Seneca paced the control room as he watched the monitors, they were getting close now.

"Are all the cameras working?"

"Yes Sir."

"Start the count down...now."

Seneca watched as the Tributes slowly rose into the arena, their faces etched with a mixture or fear, determination and neutrality. When the countdown started they all tensed getting ready to either run towards or away from the Cornucopia. However, doing so in this particular landscape was going to be difficult either way. Studying the cameras he yelled some last minute (literally) fixes before the gong went off.

"Three."

Seneca crossed his arms.

"Two."

He planted his feet.

"One." 

He grinned.

---------.--------------------------.---------------------------.------------.--

Seneca studied the screen, it had been an interesting first day. But now it was dark, which meant he had to get the anthem and the pictures of the dead up in the sky. Looping back around to the control desk he put his hand on one of the shoulders of the workers.

"Play the anthem. I want the insignia here."

He nodded as he heard the familiar sound of the anthem and watched as the pictures of the dead and their districts were flashed across the sky. Then they were gone and the arena was silent for the first time that day. Rolling his shoulders he retreated to his office intent on getting some sleep before things got too hectic. 

"Let me know if anything comes up." he called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

[timidlymaya-blog]

Maya & Jesset || Crying Out For You

It took nearly half an hour for Maya to decide on a book to read, but once she did and she was satisfied with her choice, the blonde took it up and flipped it open to the first page. She started down the hall, her legs moving with no sense of destination. She would go wherever they would take her with no complaint and when she would finally lift her eyes from the old pages, she knew that wherever she found herself would not be somewhere that would disappoint her. So, with that she kept going, reading line after line and smiling at the parts that made her heart fly, frowning at the parts that squeezed her heart, but all the while enjoying the story she had read one too many times. She continued like this for a few minutes before she felt a tug on the shoulder of her uniform, jolting her back and 'causing the book to slip out of her fingers and fall to the floor with its pages bent.

Maya instinctively pulled away from the grip, but it didn't loosen in the slightest. When she turned to gaze at what had caught her, she found that it wasn't a what at all, but a who. A man wearing a green uniform with a yellow badge on the left breast. An officer of Thirteen. To the officers right, a little further down the hall stood another man in the same uniform with his arms crossed over his chest. The looks on their faces were the same, stern yet mocking. "Where's a little girl like you going?" The officer holding her asked with a teasing tone Maya picked up on right away. She pulled her shoulder away again, but still he kept his grip. "Shouldn't you be in training?" He asked and Maya frowned. "No. I'm not a soldier." Was her sharp reply, her eyes shooting a glare back at him. "But you are a refugee, and all refugees are to be soldiers. That's the deal of you guys coming here." The officer with crossed arms reminded her, leaning down to her level. His face was so close to Maya's that she could feel his breath on her face. She didn't like the attitude these officer's generated one bit. "Let me go." She said firmly, her voice picking up with the undertone of anger. "Oh, I'm sorry, are we bothering you?" The officer used his free hand to brush her hair over her shoulder and that was enough to make Maya turn her head from him. "I think she's getting angry, Quen." The officer with the crossed arms said, addressing the officer Maya presumed to be Quen with a smirk.

"Maybe we should teach her a lesson," Quen gripped her uniform tighter, pulling her small body back against him. "Maybe then she'd understand why she should be in training and not talking back to an officer." The other officer chuckled, bringing a hand to her chin where he lifted so she could face him. Maya let out a small groan, fighting to pull her face from him as he pushed her hair back from her face. "Let me go!" Maya yelled, struggling against the officer's grasps. His hands hurt on her shoulder. She didn't understand why they were doing this, it was abusing their authority for no valid reason. Maya's dad had always told her what to do in situations similar to this, but since Maya had no interest in training or violence she didn't pay any attention. Now she wished she had. "I said let go!" Maya lifted her right foot, stomping as hard as she could on Quen's. He let out a loud yell, throwing her into the other officer who held her just as tightly as the first one had. Maya let out a yelp as Quen reached for her hair, holding her head back. "You're going to wish you'd never done that!" He yelled, raising his fist to her as the other nameless officer held her arms at her sides. Maya shut her eyes tightly, letting out one loud scream in hopes someone would hear her.

[catchingmockinggames-blog]

[catchingmockinggames-blog]