The sky was a dark, dreary grey, reflecting Natsu's mood almost perfectly. The only thing missing was rain, and by the looks of the sky, that rain might fall at any moment. His jaw was stiff from scowling, his back and shoulders aching from carrying stones to and from the factory. Though many desired to be drawn as tribute, he was one of the few who didn't. His father was a victor; Natsu had seen firsthand the results of the Games. The weight of gazes as he passed through the entrance and past peacekeepers was heavier even than the stones he lugged everyday. It's him. Igneel's son. He took his place next to the other male's of his district, studiously ignoring the way they immediately burst into whispers. From across the crowd, he spotted a head of blonde he'd recognize anywhere. Silently he willed her to glance his way, but the chances were slim. After all, they'd only spoken twice. "Tributes of District Two-..." He exhaled heavily, clenching his fists. At least this was the last year he had to worry about being picked.
