Forty years ago the Capitol instituted an annual punishment on the Districts of Panem for their attempt to overthrow the government. Since then, 24 children are forced, or volunteer to compete in a battle royale known as the Hunger Games. While the lone Victor escapes with their life and is showered with fame and fortune beyond their wildest dreams, the Game is far from over. Opening Date: May 12th, 2016 Currently plot: The wake of the 40th Games
Below you will find your second writing task! Please wrap up any paras from the previous task, however, you may continue any flashback paras!
It's been a long few weeks and the trains are just about to start leaving the station, each bound for one of the twelve Districts. Some of you are looking forward to returning home, others are reluctant to leave the Capitol city and it's spotlight. Whatever the case may be, you are not out of the water quite yet. A new challenge awaits you once you exit the train: the family and friends of your Districts fallen tributes. You will be met with grief, anger, a mixture of the two or something entirely unexpected.
Districts 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. 10, 11 and 12: In the form of oneshots or para with fellow Victors of your District tell us about your arrival home and interactions with the families and friends of your fallen tributes, as well as with the entire District as a whole. Are you well received or met with mixed emotions due to the loss of two more children? Are there any District-wide traditions that take place?
District 4: You are forunate enough to bring home this years Victor, but there is still one fallen tribute to be mourned. In the form of oneshots or para with fellow Victors of your District tell us about your arrival home and interactions with the family and friends of your fallen tribute. In addition, describe to us what sort of celebrations take place with Poseidon's homecoming.
Once the dust has settled life in your District resumes as per usual: children attend school, those who hold a job clock in at their designated time. But for you Victors you are officially off the clock until next year. For this challenge, tell us about your own readjustment back to life in your District: how have the last few weeks in the Capitol affected you? Are there any post-Game rituals you yourself undertake? Do you run straight to your loved ones or prefer solitude to cope with the loss of your Districts tributes, or are you not affected in the slightest?
And finally, what are you to do with all this free time on your hands? Do you remain at home living in luxury, help out where you can around the District, return to the Capitol city for this and that, or do you take this time to travel and visit the Victors of the other Districts?
Note: As a Victor you are granted the privilege to move freely between the Districts, provided you have your request for travel approved by the head Peacekeeper of your District. Requests are to be submitted at minimum two weeks prior to your intended departure. (Remember, just because you submit a request does not always mean it will be granted!) Your luggage will be searched prior to leaving each District, so you may want to think twice if you plan on pulling a fast one on the Capitol.
For this task, in the form of oneshots or para tell us about your travels to the other Districts of Panem! In an attempt to develop a canon for each District, please message us any and all locations you foresee in your District. Each will have its Victors Village, Justice Building, train station and marketplaces, but there may be some locations relevant to both your character's individual plot and your District's industry (ie, the Hob in Twelve, the dam in Five, the Nut in Two, etc).Â
In addition, feel free to help build up the Capitol city itself with specific locations! We will be keeping a locations page here that will be updated as we receive messages.
Have fun and be creative! As always if you have any questions, our inbox is open!
Please tag your oneshots as totdwc2 and all of your starters as totdwc2starter
While we wait for the next task to be posted, we are happy to announce that our memories/scrapbook page is now open for submissions! Please take a moment to review the guidelines, then head over to the submit page and send us some photos!
The next task should be up tomorrow afternoon. Thank you for your patience!
Just a reminder, the current task set in the immediate wake of the 40th Hunger Games will be ending on the evening of Sunday, June 5th. Please post all of your oneshots and wrap up all of your paras by then. The next task will be posted Monday morning.
Nova Bolt || District 3 || 34 || Victor of the 22nd Hunger Games || FC:Â Richard Ayoade
Weapon of Choice: Technology.
Private Training Score: 8.
Number of Kills: 3. (District 1 male, District 5 female, and District 2 male.
Arena: Capitol Zoo.
Nova has been described as gentle, open-minded, honest, socially inept, shy, and tactless.
Nova Bolt! What a name! So flash it almost borders on ridiculous, it conjures images of a heroic alter ego, an electric personality, an explosion of a human. Nova Bolt! A name like that sets clear expectations of its owner. It is a name to live up to. It is a name to build up anticipation.
Anticipation which, in this case, is swiftly dropped once you have met Nova Bolt: a man with unkempt black curls, large glasses that often slip down his nose, and a stammering speech impediment, about as akin to an exploding star as a muddy puddle is to the ocean. All at once the name does not seem so flash as it does laughable. Nova Bolt! What a name! How on earth did such a poor, quiet, strange soul get lumbered with a name like that?
It began, as most things do, with a birth. Births alone, while unpleasant to watch and certainly to take part in, are generally a fact of life and, in truth, much of a muchness. But this was a birth with an ingredient other than the average screaming and fretting: a copious amount of alcohol on the part of not only the woman having the baby, but the father delivering it, also. Nova was never likely to come out alive, and although his parents didnât know it, his survival was foreshadowing for the future â but that is a story for later. We begin at the beginning, with two hungry, desperate, drunk teenagers facing for the first time a consequence for the actions they undertook as a temporary escape from the cold and passionless work of District Three.
Somehow, young and drunk as they were, the two children managed to birth a healthy son. His mother held the wailing infant in her arms, and looking into his scrunched-up little face, seemed to see more than just a screeching newborn. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps some greatness that she saw in her new son, but she named him Nova, and explosion of a star, and thereby set him on a path for something great. Despite his name, though, it was assumed by all who knew the Bolts that this little boy would have no chance at succeeding in life with such workshy delinquents as parents. What a shock, then, when their son, aged only four, managed to create electrical circuits to power a light bulb with no teaching or supervision at all. And as he grew up, these simple circuits grew and changed as he learned more about why the current made the bulbs glow, and exactly how power worked. At age ten he had memorised all of the equations to do with power and current, voltage and resistance, and was already beginning to apply them to a real life space. He had workings in his notebooks, designs for new batteries that did twice the work and used up half the energy, for lights that only worked when your eyes were open to conserve power, and for all sorts of contraptions which, while crude and unworkable due to inexperience, could be worked and reworked into a finished product that could revolutionise parts of the industry.
Young Nova changed the Bolt family name forever. No longer did it signify flunked classes and uninspired work, but the socially awkward face of a new age of technology. Oh, he was nothing special to talk to: nasal-voiced, with an awful sense of humour and very few conversational topics that would interest a regular human being. It wasnât that people liked him, simply that they respected him.
Nova barely worried about the Games at all. He had done nothing to anger the Capitol, and had avoided taking out any tesserae, so statistically, his chances of being chosen were slim. And therein lay a weakness of a mind so focused on logic and probability â it didnât factor in the randomness of life. So it was that aged only sixteen and a skinny, lanky teenager, Nova Bolt was ordered to march up to a podium and to present himself as a human sacrifice for the people who had seen so much promise in him. They were not too upset; Novaâs impending death meant that their sons were safe for another year, though it was a sad waste of a technological prodigy.
At first, Nova didnât stand out as a strong contender in the Games, despite building a makeshift bomb in private training that earned him a score of eight, as high as some Careers. The problem was something that had never been a problem before â his stifling awkwardness, and foot-in-mouth syndrome. At home, this had been something that people had come to get used to, scientific prowess coming before social skills in the order of importance. But in the city of flashing lights and media personalities, it became a major weakness. Despite coming across as perfectly likeable in his interviews, the boy managed also to portray himself as socially incompetent, making boring jokes about technology that nobody understood and then laughing at his own attempts at humour, or being unable to answer questions due to shyness and stuttering. Betting offices had him close to the bottom on their lists.
It wasnât all too long before he was hurtling up towards the arena, the headrush of terror reverberating through him as he crossed his fingers tightly and wished and prayed for something rooted in technology, something close to home, an arena that he could outsmart. And then his eyes opened, and it was a zoo. His heart sank straight through the podium, and all throughout the countdown his mind was blank as he looked around and took in the utter lack of material that he had to work with, and all of the mutts in their cages which the Gamemakers would no doubt open to wreak havoc on them all. Beside him, a younger tribute was crying. On the other side, a Career sucked in her breath, premature bloodlust filling her lungs. He had no time to think about them, no time for alliances. When the countdown ended all that he did was run, swipe a pack, run and hide and try to find a place to hide in which he would not end up mauled by savage muttations or equally savage teenagers.
For the first few days, he was lucky, and it was this luck which resulted in his overall survival. What had seemed the most dangerous choice, the lion enclosure, had turned out so far to be the safest â just another sick and sardonic move from the Gamemakers. So while he camped out there, living on the meagre scraps from his pack and wielding a small dagger (which he later learned was supposed to be thrown, but it didnât seem to matter anymore), many of the others were slaughtered by each other, devoured by the rabbits in the petting zoo section, or pecked to pieces by tropical birds. But his peace couldnât last long, and eventually he was stuck between the lion in the cage and the lion of the Games: Midas, a handsome blond from One with a sharp smile and an even sharper sword. It seemed that Novaâs luck had run out. Yet, whether it was fate or some kind of bias from a Gamemaker, just as the other boy had pressed his sword to Novaâs neck and had begun to taunt him, the cage door opened and while the boy from Three escaped with only minor cuts and scars, Midas was savagely ripped away by the razor jaws of the lion mutt, helped on his path by a shove from Nova.
That was the problem with Careers. They always had to make a speech before they stuck the blade in.
From then on, Novaâs confidence grew. He spent most of the Games in the shadows, hiding from others, stealing leftovers from the careless and weapons from the dead. This strategy saw him through until the final four, at which point the Gamemakers grew tired of waiting, and forced everybody together for one final fight â the fight which was to break Novaâs spirit forever.
The twenty-second annual Hunger Games could have had a twelve-year-old winner, a sweet little cherub from Five whose strategy seemed to have been similar to Novaâs, but while two Careers fought each other for the victory they were both sure was theirs, Nova Bolt slit her throat and watched her childish soul bleed out. After that, there was no going back. At the time, he couldnât remember how he had killed the boy from Two. It was only later, when he watched himself on the screen, a screaming and crying and bleeding mess who kept stabbing long after the other boy was dead, that it came back to him. He was put into the helicopter, and taken home in silence. He was just as uncharismatic in his victory interview had he had been in those prior. The Capitol was not entirely satisfied with their Victor.
Still, his District were glad to have him back, to have his ideas and inventions there and ready to be tried, to be tested, to change all of their lives. Unfortunately, the trauma from the Games hit in a way which nobody had anticipated. Every time he sat down and opened one of his old notebooks, all that Nova could hear were muffled screams, the sick noise of a blade piercing skin, children crying from terror. Children, like him. With futures, like his. She was only twelve years old. The brightness of his mind faded, and for once the electric circuits, the wires and the lights â they all seemed pointless in the scheme of things. He handed his old notebook over to a better inventor to tweak the ideas inside, and took to solitude. In this hermit life, his already weak social skills festered, and his interviews became more and more clipped and strained. It seemed as though he was going to live alone for the rest of his life.
But even with the money a Victor receives, giving birth is just as dangerous for people in the Victorsâ Village as it is for people in the town. Without some of the anesthetics and antibiotics that simply could not be found in most Districts, there was no treatment for Radius when she began to convulse after a seemingly healthy birth. Distraught and hysterical, Nova stayed by her side, ordering the doctors to intervene, but there was nothing they could do. Eclampsia was common in first pregnancies, but without medicine from the Capitol, it could not be treated. Helpless and pitiful, Nova watched as the light faded from the first person who had managed to break through his miserable shell, and began to retreat even further in than he had been before.
After Radiusâs death, the solitude grew worse. For almost the whole of each year, Nova spoke to nobody other than his young daughter, named Ray after her mother. He was almost silent in interviews, and the only reason the Capitol ever featured him on television was because of the charms of his young daughter, who appeared to be growing up free from the shackles that bound her father. But, surprisingly enough, each year Nova volunteered to be a mentor, and threw himself into the role with more gusto than he ever used outside of caring for Ray. Perhaps it was just because as a mentor he got to meet others who understood what it was like to feel loss, or perhaps he just needed a break from a monotonous year. Regardless of the reason, Nova traveled to the Capitol yearly, with permission to bring his young daughter along with him, and for just a short period of time, it seemed as though the shackles loosened their grip.
Just a heads up the current event will be ending Sunday evening (June 5th) and a new one posted shortly thereafter. Please wrap up any paras by then! There is limit on the q&a task, so feel free to continue to post those at your leisure.Â
Wednesday Mason || District 2 || 33 || Victor of the 24th || Jasmine Sanders
Weapon of Choice: Bare handed combat and bow and arrow
Private Training Score: 9
Number of Kills: 6 (D3 male, D4 male, D4 female, D5 male, D7 male, D8 male)
Arena: Capitol Mall
Wednesday has been described as Ambitious, Tenacious, Cultured; Bitter, Manipulative, and Blunt
Like her parents, Wednesday grew up with a bit of a thrill living life differently. At a young age she developed the uncanny ability to predict things, to read peopleâs intentions and to sense when there is more happening than is apparent. Wednesday never had to try too hard in manipulating people, succeeding in getting others to do her dirty work. Planning in advance what she wanted to do â visualize it, act on it, and make it a reality is just a little game to her. Being so well versed in the actions at she turned it into a private sport, like a macabre chess.
Margo and Brutus Mason raised the budding psych kid. Both of which never had a clue as to what laid behind the cold gaze that looked back. For them, Wednesday was just another beautiful girl who wanted nothing more then to bring pride to the District. Her emotions did, and still do, hide underneath the surface, but are evident in her actions. Before her time in the Games, she rarely surfaced anything other than bitter. It used to freak the other kids out when she actually mustered a smile or compliment.
The only true thing Wednesday loved more than playing master manipulator was getting her hands dirty in the Academy, pretty much allowing her to get away with as much brutality without signaling any alarms. A year before volunteering she began practicing long ranged weaponry, and hand-to-hand combat. Like a bat out of hell, she surpassed her peers and became a tour de force combatant. Wednesday believed in the glory in combat.
On her Reaping Day, Wednesday volunteered as rehearsed along with another fellow Academy kid named Rueben. The two hit it off instantly. Their chemistry was a fine accessory going into the Games, but somewhere along the way her partnerâs mind got lost in the fame. Although she was hurt by his sudden change of heart, she never showed it. Wednesday grew more distant as days grew and by time private training rolled around, he and everyone else was nothing more than a cannon fodder in her eyes. Instead of wasting her time on a lost cause, she impressed the Game Makers by quite literally beating the shit out of the available trainers. An impressive score of 9 was given, sealing her status of a Career worthy opponent. If the other kids werenât scared of her yet, they were now.
On the 60-second countdown the cameras revealed the arena to be a replica of the great Capitol Mall. Before she knew it, the count was over, compelling her to go in for her first kill, the D5 male. After playing hopscotch on his esophagus, she joined her fellow tributes inside the true to size arena mall. It quickly proved to be anything but an average arena, filled with store mutts, and all kinds of pop culture references and gags. She barely had time to settle in before bumping into the D4 male whose name still escaped her. His jaw was unhinged by Wednesday within five minutes, completing her kill by shoving a persimmon down his throat. She watched as the poor kid choked on his own vomit. His cannon fired not long after leaving her with 2 kills on the first day.
The rest of her time wasnât as easy as the first. After nearly loosing her head with a Chef Boyardee mutt, Wednesday encountered the D4 Female with the D7 Male thirsty for her blood. She pummeled them into submission with great effort, and took a selfie with their corpses; sadistic, but very necessary to appeal sponsorship. After her combo kill, Wednesday needed a break from the madness, venturing to the outskirts of the mall where a carnival was being held. She received a bow and arrow as a reward for her bravery by the Game Makers. The reward was short lived because just a few hours later the Game Makers forced interaction between the tributes. Wednesday was obligated into battle once again, this time with the boy from eight. He didnât appear to be a fighter so Wednesday underestimated him; her mistake. This particular boy gave Wednesday a real fight for her life. She barely escaped the bunker they duked it out in, gaining many life-threatening injuries after his attack. The majority of her backside sustained 3rd degree burns as she went into the final 3, hanging on by sheer determination. Â
In the season finale of her Games, just 2 remaining tributes were left alongside Wednesday, and she was by far the most injured. She stayed calm and rested as the other two dueled it out on the sky-high floating island above the mall. The boy from three killed his district partner, leaving just Winnie and him. They fought for what seemed like hours, destroying both of their anatomies in the process. Wednesdayâs intestines were beginning to spill out and the boy known as Naxos was shutting down due to exhaustion. Wednesday refused to face death, flat out desperate. She hastily hoisted up her sword after pinning him down with her own body, turning the blade deep into her just so it would go through his chest. The tip of the blade punctured his heart after exiting the stomach of hers. Wednesday practically screamed the remaining air out of her lungs as the announcer declared her the winner.
Itâs been sixteen years since Wednesdayâs wrath and not a day goes by where she isnât seen in the public eye. A few years after her Games an infamous reality show producer contacted her due to the unique way she was unapologetically blunt. Within the first season her reality show became one of the most watched programs in all of the Capitol, right alongside the Games itself. Wednesdayâs Thursday was a weekly episodic adventure where audiences followed her private life every single Thursday, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. From the time she hooked up with another victor, to other times where she drunkenly vandalized her own home, an audience was always watching. Now well into her 9th season, Wednesday ups the ante every year. This particular year she chose to mentor and highlight the new batch of District Two tributes, giving the Capitol an up close look as to what goes on behind closed doors.
Despite outward appearances, Wednesday forbids to be alone. For years she secretly and obsessively held on to anyone who showed affection. Boyfriends, friends, even the crew behind her show, were all kept like little trophies just so she wouldnât be alone. Feeling and emotions were not discussed without anger, but as long as she receives some attention and kept distracted, Wednesday will continue to remain at peace.
Forty years ago the Thirteen Districts of Panem waged war against the Capitol, Twelve of which emerged from the ashes of the Rebellion with the Capitol crowned Victor. As a reminder of the Districtâs attempt to overthrow the elite, the Capitol put forth an annual punishment whereby one male and female between the ages of 12-18 years old would be chosen from each District at a public Reaping. The two âtributesâ would be delivered to the Capitol where they would compete in a fight to the death that would come to be known as the Hunger Games.
While the lone Victor escapes with their life and is spoiled with all the riches, fame and glory the Capitol could offer, their lives in the wake of the Hunger Games is never quite the same. Some are left with physical, mental and emotional scars that will plague them to the end of their days, others embrace their new title and lifestyle as âVictorâ and indulge in their spoils of bloodshed, while few come to dedicate their renewed lives to bettering those of their fellow peers out in the Districts, as well as attending to newly Reaped tributes year after year as they either follow in their footsteps, or fall.
Tale of the Districts is a para-based AU-Hunger Games roleplay that explores the lives of Panemâs Victors. Players will be able to develop their Victors life prior to, during and in the wake of their time as a tribute in the Hunger Games. This includes a number of writing prompts and tasks, forming connections with other Victors both within and outside oneâs own home District, Capitol citizens, and additional plot drops and events that will be posted on the main.
Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favourâŠ.
Tilda Marek || District 4 || 24 || Victor of the 31st || FC: Lily James
Weapon of Choice: Traps
Private Training Score: 5
Number of Kills: Â 3 (District 8 male, District 11 female, District 2 female)
Arena: Tropical Islands
Tilda has been described as Observant, Polite, Intelligent; Introverted, Withdrawn, Anxious
When Tildaâs mother was sixteen, she gave birth to a baby girl out of wedlock. Her parents, part of the oldest and wealthiest families in the district, cast her out, leaving her with her baby in poverty on the streets of District Four. And though Tilda grew up fairly poor on the outskirts of the district, her mother tried in every respect to give her as many opportunities as she could, especially when it came to education. This meant that, when Tilda turned twelve, her mother dragged her quiet daughter apprehensively to the District Four Training Academy. It was never expected that Tilda would become the tribute; she was one of the quieter and physically weaker girls of her year and was never particularly proficient with weapons. The only advantage she seemed to have was being one of the smarter members of the Academy, but even still she flew very much âunder the radarâ and spent her time learning survival skills as opposed to weaponry.
When she was reaped at fifteen there were no worries circulating the district. The girl who was assigned to be reaped was a popular choice and there seemed to be a general consensus that Four could produce a winner from such a fierce competitor. But when nobody stepped forward after the call came out for volunteers (it was later discovered she had been bitten by a poisonous snake the night before and was minutes from death during the moments the District was looking for her), Tilda was left standing up there with a scary-looking eighteen-year-old boy to go off to the Capitol.
Tilda stayed out of the spotlight throughout the entire week before the Games. Her private training score was even less than average, and her district prepared for its first bloodbath death in years. Her social anxiety made her interview more uncomfortable than anything, and by the time the Games rolled around most people had simply forgotten about her. Â Few people noticed when she slipped through the bloodbath with an abnormally large amount of supplies. Even the cameras had a difficult time finding her in the small outcropping of tropical islands that made up that yearâs arena. When they finally found her in a makeshift hut on the furthest beach of the arena, she had already caught enough small animals and fish to last her comfortably for a week. She had set out multiple traps around her campsite to keep her safe, and received her first kill almost on accident when one of her traps snared the boy from District Eight. The traps were only meant to keep people in place while she made an escape, but the Gamemakers were not content with her staying in one place and sent a tsunami her way to wreak havok. She escaped fairly unscathed while the boy she had trapped was left to drown.
Tilda got lucky a second time, when another trap snared the girl from District Eleven, who had been hunting her down for several hours. The girl was lifted into the air by several ropes, and with some strategic slicing of strings here and there, Tilda managed to maneuver her into strangulation. Once the final four was reached, one by one, the islands of the arena became flooded, and two of the remaining tributes were left to drown as they were not able to swim. The only two that were- Tilda and the girl from Two- were left on a single central island to fight to the death.
The other girl was in poor health at this point, but also received many, many sponsor gifts to give her an advantage during the final battle. Tilda received none, as extremely few people expected her to win. However, by outrunning, outmaneuvering, and exhausting the other girl in a fast-paced chase around the island, Tilda gained the upper hand when she climbed a tree near the beach. A well-placed throw of an unripe coconut gave the girl a nauseating concussion, and in her confusion she became slow and clumsy enough for Tilda to grab the sword from her hand and shove it through her neck.
Tilda is probably one of the more unpopular victors to date. Because so few people had bet on her to win, many Capitolites are still mad at her nine years later for losing them enormous amounts of money. So instead of spending much time showing face in the Capitol, Tilda devotes her energy to bringing Capitol technology and goods to those who are less fortunate. As one might imagine, this makes her even less popular among the officials and the government. She spends most of her time alone, though, drowning the PTSD with quiet alcoholism. Tilda spends more time with books and red wine than with people, so even many in her district are unfamiliar with one of their most recent victors.
Olive Pearce || District 11 || 22 || Victor of the 29th || FC: Neelam Johal
Weapon of Choice: Spells
Private Training Score: 3
Number of Kills: 1
Arena: Tropical Jungle with Pyramids
Olivia has been described as Intuitive, Charming, Diligent; Possessive, vindictive and secretive.
Olive wasnât always different. There was a time in which she fit in with the other crowds of little girls, played with the same toys and sang the same happy songs. Trying to found out where and when things changed would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack -nearly impossible. Instead of attempting to tell her story through traditional narrative, it is best to explain it straw by straw, needle by needle.
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The apothecaryâs smell was what she remembered above all. Intoxicating, pervasive, it filled the room of anything and everything, and once someone left, it followed them into their homes to infect their households as well. A snake. Growing with each person who walks through itâs doors, once, twice, three times. How many times does a person have to bleed before they were finally cured? Olive wondered. Since when did hands heal headaches, since when did alcohol allay ailments? Her mother wouldnât tell her and her Dad was six feet under before he could protest. A secret of sorts
.Olive had only been in there once before, but even during that one time, she noticed the jars of fluid lining the many shelves on the walls, the crystals glinting in the darkness, shining in her eyes as if asking to be removed from the darkness. She examined the jars closely. Before she could react, the doorknob was rattling, she whipped her head back in response only to be met with an angry glare from her mother and a disoriented gaze from the man she was escorting inside.
Her mother was clearly trying to hide her anger, âOlive. Out!â
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Oliveâs mother was wise and determined, a soft spoken women who believed in what she was doing. She told Olive one day that the people who came to the apothecary were very sick and had no alternatives, what she gave them was the next best thing. Sure, the Capitol could heal their problems within minutes, but would they? No.
Olive had asked how people in the district could still go hungry considering the fact that theyâre always harvesting and making food. Even during the winter, things were still growing, people were still harvesting, It didnât add up. Why would the âCapitolâ, whoever they were, let the citizens of their districts go hungry? Â They were working very hard, in fact, Olive had seen people even collapse from the exhaustion and the labor. Her mother couldnât give her an answer and instead just patted the top of her head and heaved a long, tired, sigh. Her mother cared for the people in the districts as if they were her own children, that being one of the main reasons she decided to continue using her Craft to try and heal them.
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The day of the reaping was a frightful one. Ursa, Oliveâs mother, had been receiving threats because of her work at the apothecary.
The note argued that by educating the workers on and practicing witchcraft, she was giving the districtâs citizens a false hope. Hope, they argued, was something to be given only by the Capitol. Despite this, she continued. She couldnât let them down, they bled for her, they trusted her to make them better, and when she told them the stories of Hecate and Uma they listened with intent and focus.
She couldnât stop now, she had to keep going. She didnât have a choice.
Ursa expected something to happen, a public whipping, more hours of work, anything. But nothing came, and when the day came closer she had a growing feeling that this would be her punishment. The ultimate punishment.
And it was.
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Olive didnât cry.
They had to check her multiple times to make sure that she was breathing.
âSheâs beautifulâŠâ Breathless, Ursa held Olive in her hands.
âOur little girl.â Her father stared lovingly at the pair, wishing that he could be frozen in this beautiful moment forever.
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âOlive Pearce!â
The crowd roared.
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âWe interrupt todayâs daily broadcast to bring you the latest on information on District Elevenâ The Capitol newswomen pressed lightly on her ear, listening intently as someone feeds her information. âIâve just received word that rebels have infiltrated our beloved District 11 and have interrupted the dayâs ceremonies, it is with great sadness that I announce that the footage from District Elevenâs Reaping ceremony will be postponed until tomorrow. Thank you and have a great day.â
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Olive didnât fight in the arena. She survived, and she didnât even do that very well. In fact, when she was found by the only career left, she was on the verge of death. He just couldnât do it to her. And Olive will always be thankful for his mercy. Justin Thirwall, sheâd never forget his name. Not after what he did, or rather, what he didnât do. After all, he had earned it more than anyone in those games. He trained for it, got the score he worked hard for, met up with all the right people and betrayed them at all the right times. He made all the moves that were expected of him until the very end - when it truly mattered.
Olive, she did nothing.
By the time the 22nd cannon sounded in the arena, she was reduced to nearly nothing. Her body hadnât had anything of nutritional value for days, leaving her curled up in a ball under a nearby tree, and her clothes were reduced to rags. It was Justin that found her there, wondering how long sheâd been laying there and how no one seemed to notice her small body running away from the cornucopia fast enough for her to get targeted.
He approached her, his muscled body towering over her small one, casting a long shadow over her.. He bent down over her and slapped the face of her near-lifeless body once, gently at first, and commanded her to get up and fight him. Olive whimpered in response, dehydration refusing to let tears fall from her sunken-in cheeks. He slapped her again, harder this time and gave her space to comply with his requests. She didnât move. After a moment, it became clear to him that she couldnât bring herself to her feet and that any more damage to her would kill her.
And for the first time since heâd entered the arena, he questioned himself.
Wrong move.
It happened so quickly he couldnât even process it himself, his world became a blur of color and didnât settle until he found himself tangled upside down in netting that was hidden obscurely by a pile of leaves. When his vision settled, he realized he was staring at the eyes of the same twelve year old girl he towered over just moments ago. Blood was pouring from where he slapped her, but her face didnât look phased. In fact, she looked eerily calm.
âI am sorry to do this.â She said, struggling to slowly bringing herself to her feet.
He looked back at her in disbelief, wondering how a model tribute could have gotten outsmarted by a tiny girl from an outlying district. Out of all the times he decided to listen to his conscience, this time would be the time it would kill him.
âI will make your pain quick.â
A cannon sounded in the distance.
-
Olive was met with considerable resistance in the Capitol. She was not the one they pictured winning, she was a filler tribute, a dummy to be done away with within the first couple days, a plaything to show off the might of the career districts. They did not cheer for her the way they cheered for the other victors, instead they gave her obligatory claps and sideways glances. Her mentor seemed to be the only one happy for her.
Her tour of the districts was short, and when it was finished, she immediately went back to her home to meet with her mother. Except, when she went back, everything was gone. The house where she lived was gone, the apothecary, itâs smell, everything, as if it never even existed. Her world was broken.
âOlive?â
Olive whipped around, tears falling from her cheeks. She didnât recognize the man approaching her, âIâve been waiting for you, come.â She followed the man blindly, hoping that he had some sort of explanation, some sort of answer. Instead, he lead her through a winding path that looked long forgotten to a house that looked like it would fall apart at any moment. He gestured for her to wait, and after a couple moments, returned to her with a book and a pendant.
âEverything your mom taught is in here, everything. Do not let them see you with this.I wish I could give you more of her, but this is all we have.â From that moment, Olive vowed to learn her motherâs Craft. She vowed to take revenge on the Capitol and anyone who got in her way while she was doing it.
Now that we have a background about your character's life before, during and after the Games, let's work on some of those details! Below the cut are 90 questions for you to answer at your leisure to help flesh out your character. You will notice they are divided into two sections: more generic questions to aid in character building, and those that deal specifically with your character's time as a tribute in the Hunger Games.
You may answer as many as you would like in any order, as well as blend several together in a single post. Feel free to post in any format including oneshots, graphics, journal entries, interviews, perspective of npcs connected to your character, etc. Be creative and have fun with it!
Please tag your q&a posts as totdcb, as well as any triggers.
The Basics
Tell us about your family, your friends.
Do you have a nickname?
Create a playlist for your character.
Tell us a good memory of yours. How about a bad one?
If you could be any animal for one day, real or mythical, what would you be and why?
Whatâs your favorite type of weather and/or season? Your least favorite?
Tell us about the worst fight youâve been in.
Whatâs your earliest memory?
Walk us through your daily routine.
Is there someone you admire?
What intimidates you?
Whatâs your biggest fear?
Is there anything you regret?
What was your dream job growing up?
Tell us about your most recent dream, your most recent nightmare.
Are you an introvert or extrovert?
Got a secret youâd care to share? (we promise not to tell anyone)
Whatâs your zodiac sign?
If you could live in any other District, where would you go and why?
Put your music player on shuffle and write an OS based on the song that comes up.
Whatâs your favorite color?
Want any tattoos? Any piercings?
What is/was your favorite subject in school?
Tell us about a promise you made someone, a promise someone made to you.
Whatâs your favorite quote? Why?
Have you ever had a significant other? Been in love? Engaged? Married? Widowed?
Do you have a favorite movie? TV show? Book?
What is your MBTI result?
Which house of Westeros will you fight for?
Which House of Hogwarts would the Sorting Hat place you in?
You have been claimed while staying at Camp Half-Blood. Which God or Goddess is your Olympian parent?
Itâs the day of your Choosing Ceremony, what Faction will you pick? (Dauntless, Amity, Erudite, Abnegation or Candor)?
Which of the four elements or sub elements can you bend?
Which of the seven deadly sins do you feel identify with?
Tell us about the home you grew up in.
Whatâs one skill or talent you wish you possessed?
If you could go back in time, where would you go and why?
Do you believe in fate, destiny and/or luck?
Whatâs your most prized possession?
If you could have any superpower, what would it be and why?
What do you look for in a significant other?
Whatâs your favorite thing to do when youâre alone?
Is there a fictional character you relate to?
Are you religious, spiritual, or none of the above?
Are you a leader or a follower?
Do you want to get married? Have children?
Whatâs on your mind right now?
Do you have any pet peeves?
Do you have, had or want any pets?
Make a bucket list for your character.
The Hunger Games
What were your thoughts and/or feelings on the Hunger Games growing up?
Was there a particular Game that had an impact on your life? (prior to your own)
Have you ever taken tesserae?
Is there anyone you would have volunteered in place of?
Did you know anyone who was Reaped or volunteered in the past?
Write a oneshot about your first Reaping.
Tell us about what happens in your District in the immediate wake of the Games.
Do you have any habits or rituals you undertake the day before/morning of the Reaping?
Who was your mentor? Your escort? Your District partner?
Tell us about your Reaping.
What did you wear to your Reaping?
Who came to see you in the Justice Building to say goodbye before you were whisked away to the Capitol?
Did you bring a token with you? If so, what is its significance?
Tell us about your train ride from your home District to the Capitol. Did you interact with your team or keep entirely to yourself? Travel times are as followed:
Districts 1, 2, 5 and 9 will have had the shortest journey of approximately 2 hours. You would have arrived in the Capitol in time for dinner in your new suites.
Districts 3, 4, 7 and 8 would have had a bit of a longer journey, approximately 6-7 hours. You would have had dinner on the train and arrived in the Capitol late in the evening. You would then be escorted to your new suites.
Districts 6, 10, 11 and 12 would have had the longest journey and would have arrived in the Capitol the following morning just in time for the Opening Ceremonies to begin. Both dinner and breakfast would have been served to you on the train.
15.Tell us about your prep team and stylist, as well as your experience in the prep center.
16. Describe the outfit you wore during the parade and your experience during the Opening Ceremonies.
17.How did you feel about being elevated from a citizen of a District to an instant celebrity? Did you soak up the attention or try to fade into the background?
18. Tell us about your time during the training period. Tributes were typically allotted three days of public training to learn new skills and hone those familiar to them.
19. Did your character form any alliances? Rivalries?
20. What was your characterâs relationship like with their mentor and escort?
21. When they were not in the training center, where did your tribute like to spend their time?
22. What did your character do during their private training? How did they react to their score?
23. Post, in a chat format, your characterâs interview with the Host.
24. How did your character feel the night before/morning of the launch into the Arena?
25. There have been instances in the past where the Game Makers sponsor a ball for itsâ tributes on the eve of the launch, typically after interviews. If there was such an event, and your character did attend, tell us a little bit about it.
26. Describe the outfit you wore in the arena.
27. Write a oneshot about your experience during the bloodbath.
28. Tell us about your time in the Arena. (encounters with mutts, Arena forces, survival tactics, kill stories, etc.)
29. Did you receive any sponsor gifts?
30. It is customary for the families of the last remaining tributes to be paid a visit by the Capitol press for an exclusive interview about their childâs progress in the Games thus far. Post, in a chat format, an interview between your characterâs family and the news team from the Capitol.
31. Write a oneshot about your characterâs final kill.
32. What was your characterâs reaction to winning? What was the Capitols reaction to their Victory?
33. Tell us about those remaining days your character had in the Capitol prior to the journey home.
34. Does your character have any scars to show for their trials?
35. Post, in a chat format, your characterâs Victory interview.
36. Tell us about your characterâs homecoming.
37. Walk us through their Victory Tour.
38. It is customary for the Host to interview the Victor of the most recent Games when they arrive in the Capitol to conclude their Victory Tour. Post, in a chat format, your characters interview with the Host at the end of their Victory Tour. (side note: Victory Tours are typically held 6 months after the conclusion of the Hunger Games).
39. Describe to us what the Victorâs Village in your District looks like.
40. How does your character get along with the Districtâs other Victors? Victors from other Districts?
41. Did they do anything in particular with their winnings?
42. How has their Victory affected their relationship with their friends and family?
43. Describe your characterâs daily routine now that they are a Victor.
44. What made your character decide to take up the mantle of mentor? How do they approach their newfound duties? Have any of the tributes under their watch had an impact on them?
45. Knowing all you do now, if you could go back in time what is one piece of advice you would give to your tribute-self?
46. Now, be honest here...did you have any embarrassing moments during your time as a tribute that was televised to the entire country?
Annika Sawyer || District 9 || 19 || Victor of the 39th || FC: Malaika Firth
Weapon of Choice: Lightweight Scythe, Sickle
Private Training Score: 10
Number of Kills: 5 (D10 female, D6 male, D12 male, D8 female, D2 female)
Arena: Flooding Cavern
Annika has been described as Quarrelsome, Misguided, Dependent; Exuberant, Humorous and Obstinate
For much of her life, Annika Sawyer couldnât complain. Her world was small and simple and the vastness of District 9âs fertile wheat fields only attested to that. There was a house just sturdy enough to live in and she called it home. There was electricity that worked most of the time and if it didnât, Â it was a perfect excuse to start a fire in the fireplace. A greenhouse in the backyard provided a usually dependable source of seasonal vegetables for selling and eating. Everything that could serve the purpose of day to day living was there. Â But most importantly, there was her mother.
In her younger years, Kayin Sawyer didnât care for life and certainly did not care for the little that was that given to her.  She didnât care to find meaning or love or satisfaction, because those things did not exist. She didnât care for justice or fairness or equality because those things could not be achieved.  Any one who spoke about things like that were in a deep mess of denial.  The world didnât cater to such naive desires and it wouldnât make an exception to likes of Kayin. It was this image of life that kept Kayin content with what little she had. A small, single room house with its leaky roof and no family to call her own.  Later in life she would often wonder how it was that she ever ended up pregnant. Children were just things meant to fuel fear and submission, little pawns for the Hunger Games. But she married and gave birth, surrounded by the fatherâs family, their things, and their desires and their happiness. The thing wailed and fussed and Kayin couldnât help but laugh through her pain. âListen here, little mama.â She took the bundle from the arms of the nervous father who sat beside her. âIf you do it right⊠you ainât gonna have nothing to cry or fuss about.â  She looked at pale brown color of her babyâs skin and she realized that she couldnât wait until the day that skin held as much intensity as her own.
âYou still afraid of staying, now, Kayin?â The man asked as she shushed the baby. Kayin looked to her babyâs grandfather and aunt.
âIâm not afraid of staying.â she said. âItâs integrity.. I just need integrity.â
It was always Annika and her mother. As a child, Annika never questioned why her father was not around or who her father was. Â She didnât need to. Her mom taught her to seek nothing more than what was necessary and to want nothing more than what was necessary. âThis way, youâll always feel content. And theyâll have nothinâ to hold against you.â
She grew into what her mother intended. Reserved, quiet, elusive, a small thing. But they both knew better. Annika was not numb to her surroundings and she certainly was not unaware like her appearance made her out to be. Â She didnât believe in the same cold understanding of life as her mother. She was ambitious, though her mother would call it greed; she was intelligent, but her mother would call it egotistic. Â Annika would only act against her motherâs wishes when it was necessary. A sudden elevation of her voice, a string of sentences that possibly could not have come from her mouth, heavens no. Or her personal favorite, deliberately phrasing her words to imply double meanings. Â And if an enlightened individual saw past Annikaâs domicile disposition, no one would believe otherwise.
She took a job early. At the age of ten she worked twice a week bundling wheat stalks for transportation. When she was older, she worked the wheat fields three times a week, using a scythe to harvest fifteen square yards of wheat in by nightfall. The man of the field objected to a young girl of herself working the labor.. She simply responded with a delicate smile, âWell, sir, what are you afraid of? That Iâd hurt myself? No, Â I couldnât do that. I care too much about my body. Â That Iâd hurt you? Well that is a possibility. I wonât judge you for that fear.â Â Six out of the seven days of her week she went to school. She kept to herself because it would make her mother happy. She had friends that loved her and her peculiar sense of humor dearly, but she kept that part of herself hidden from her mom.
In the year leading up to Annikaâs 18thâs birthday, her mother grew sick. It came in waves, every cycle worse than the last. The local doctor could do nothing or provide no explanation. Â It was then that Annikaâs experienced difficulty in keeping up her facade. She began to miss school.. She left every morning with the intent to take her seat but always ended up taking a turn toward the quiet part of the district. Â It was on a day that she should have been in school when she met him. She sat under the deteriorating patio of an abandoned house, the sky grey with a sorry attempt at a thunderstorm. He had seen her there before, sat on the stairs, her expression empty. When he finally talked to her she answered his questions vaguely with a threatening tone that ill-fitted the polite and respectful things she was saying.
âWhatâs your name,â He said, an unlit roll of something held between his lips. She didnât answer. But she looked at him, tracing the features of his face, sizing him up before looking away again.
âAlright.â He said. âWell Iâm Lucas.â
ââŠLucas what,â she said finally.
âJust Lucas,â he shrugged.  âAnd yours? Nothing? Alright. Then Iâm gonna call you Doe. Jane Doe. Cause you apparently got no name but you got those eyes. They justâŠâ She looked up at him at that moment and his words fell apart.
She found his chuckle irritating. She found his presumptuous questioning of her life disgusting. She thought it was infuriating how easily he figured her dilemma from what little she said. Â On his way out he gave her what cash he had in his wallet and left. She opened her mouth to apologize for her attitude, but he was long gone. She sat alone with herself and agreed to formally apologize the next time she saw him.
Weeks later, bruises all over her body, faint, light heated, unable to breath and in pain, Kayin stopped working and Annika grew desperate. Lucas had always mentioned he knew a way to make money - a way to help Annikaâs mother. She first turned to him for connections, people to talk to who needed work done. Over time she turned to him for comfort when her mother was in too much pain to think straight. There was a brief period in which she seemed to be getting better. She could move, even get out of bed, but her bruises were not healing. It was during this time with a brighter outlook that Annika found a friend in Lucas. He began opening up to her about his life, began staying over to help Annika care for her mom. This period was fleeting, however, as Annikaâs mom fell suddenly fell unconscious two weeks later.
By the time the annual Hunger Games season approached, Annika had no more fear left to feel. She had a list of sins in her name, Â a lifetime debt to Lucas, and enough money saved to pay for medication. Three nights before the reaping, Annika told her mother the good news.
âI got enough to take a train to the hospital and get a doctor. Itâs not safe to move you. Lucas said Iâma have to pay the man for his visit and the meds but we got more than enough. Just wait, alright. Iâll leave early tomorrow morning and Iâll be here by sunrise. Iâll tell Lucas to stay with you, he wonât mind. Really I should go now - Iâm sure thereâs a train lea-â
âNo.â Her voice was stern, absent of all the weakness she had accumulated over the past months. It was as if she saved whatever energy she could spare throughout all this time to speak the words she meant to say. âAnnika. Iâm exhausted. You stay here with me.â
â-butâ
âNo. I donât wanna do this anymore. Stop leaving. Stay with me. You donât have a choice - Iâm not giving you one.â Annika opened her mouth to fight and justify all that she did and give meaning to her motherâs life but she should have known from the beginning: Her mother, despite all her attempts to prove otherwise, was selfish, and so was she. Two nights before the reaping, Annika laid in bed with her mother, telling her stories about the man she had made a friend out of, the man she had helped out of dark times. Â And when morning rose, her motherâs body was cold and stiff and empty.
Annika didnât move. She noticed, for the first time, how thin and sickly her mother looked. It seemed that when her mom died, she took every drop of power and conviction her body seemed to hold.. Eyes closed, her mother looked at peace. Annika rested chin on her motherâs chest and stared up at the face.
There was a frantic knocking at the door. âAnnika?â called Lucas. Â She didnât move. Heâd let himself in eventually. âAnnika, hurry up!â There was no answer. âAnnika, Â swear to god, girl, if youâre in there..â She heard the sound of the door knob being violated, Â followed by the door shutting. Lucas immediately began shutting the blinds and turning off the lights. âAnnikaâs you have to go. Iâll stay with your mom.â
âSheâs dead.â
âWhat?â He went over the bed where she lay and looked at her. âAnnika, when did this happen.â
âI donât know. A few hours ago.â
He touched her motherâs arm. âNo. Â Sheâs too stiff for just a few hours. Â Annika itâs Reaping Day.â He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up. âLook, Iâm sorry sheâs gone, but you need to go. The peacekeepers are going door to door. Thereâs no way Iâm los-â
âStop.â She rested her hand on his arm. âItâs not Reaping day. Itâs Friday.â
âFriday was two days ago.â She saw fear in his eyes, the first time she ever did. âLook. I wanna see you when this is over. We have to talk.â
Moments later, peacekeepers entered the home and separated them, forcing Annika toward the square.
The 39th Hunger Games was Annikaâs last year of eligibility. In the years prior, Annikaâs relationship to the games was filtered by her mother. Kayin showed no fear of losing her daughter to game, offered her no consoling to assure her it was going to be okay. Annika knew being afraid was not something that fit in her motherâs perspective from an early age. She dealt with it the only way she knew how: putting up her facade and acting how her mom would want her to. That year, there was no mother to appease. It was then that Annika realized she never had someone who cared for her existence. Her mother tried to create an idea for a child, something to live out her principles. Amaryllis Vuitton spoke her yearly speech on stage as Annika counted on her fingers the number of hugs she had received from her mother, the number of I-love-yous, the number of times they ever visited any family. She counted the numbers of faces stricken with the fear she was not allowed to feel, the expressions of dread, the numbers of limbs holding on to one another. She ran out of fingers during her first glance. A feeling came over her that could not identify. Turning on her feet, she looked at all of her surroundings.
When she stopped turning, Amaryllisâ hand fluttered over the bowl of names, Â and impulsively, Annika called out. âNo. I-I volunteer. I volunteer.â
She was taken away immediately. The faces of dread and fear transformed to confusion and surprise. Standing before the crowd, Annika learned what she felt and called it empathy. She noticed a man standing many feet ahead the area designated for family. Peacekeepers were on him and trying to pull him back. She covered her mouth, shocked at who she had forgotten.
Inside the Justice Building, all that could be heard were shouting and crying. âI grew up not caring, Lucas. I had no heart because my mom didnât let me have one! And I saw those faces - those little kids, Lucas. I never been afraid until now! Donât you get it? If I go, I wonât be hurting anyone!â
âYouâre hurting me!â He shouted, tossing her hand away from his face. He clasped his hands behind his neck, no longer hesitating to hold back his tears.
âIâm.. Iâm sorry.â She sobbed. âIâm sorry. Then Iâll win. Iâll come back.â
âYou.. have no regard⊠After what Iâve lost. My wife. My kid. And you go and volunteer?â
â⊠Lucas, I am not your wife, I am not your son, I have nothing to do with your family so-â
She regretted volunteering. After leaving Lucas the way she did, she had to win. Her mentor offered little help at first, being a dismissive and often self-centered person at all the times, but she proved her worth in no time. Annika held no restraints. She let herself be pleasantly intrigued and flustered in the presence of the Career males, enchanted by the looks and skill of the Career males, respectful and awed of the Capitol elites. She did her best know every tribute to have something valuable to say at any moment. She let out her sly sense of humor and arsenal of innuendos and displayed confidence and amusement. She danced often, anywhere she wanted, to the excitement of the cameras. She did it all while imagining that Lucas was right there with her, making those jokes, dancing with her, giving her that attitude. The Capitol paid close attention to the sweet girl who seemed full of life. They coined her the nationâs best friend, an ideal model for young girls in the Capitol.
A parachute awoke Annika on her first night in the arena: Lucasâ silver ring. The note attached read, Â
Relax: This not a proposal. Not yet, anyway. This is your promise. All is forgiven. Win.
She understood what he meant. If she wore the ring, it was her vow that sheâd be coming home. Four out of her five kills were self-defensive. Her last kill, and ultimately the last kill of the game, was not. The river had poured itself completely into the chasm, leaving the field a muddy swamp. Her opponent was the female from two, Mia Wythe, and ideally, the girl who had betrayed her entire alliance. How dismal would it be, Annika thought, for the nationâs best friend to die at the hands of a backstabbing bitch. Â
âHey Mia!â Annika said. âIâm the harbinger of death. Get it?â She rolled her eyes and chuckled at her joke as she lifted her scythe and set it on her shoulders. âYou know. Grim Reaper?â
Mia faked a laugh and swung her chain whip just as Annika ran, leading her closer to the edge of the chasm. Â When the moment was right, Annika used her her Scythe to intercept the lash of Miaâs whip. It locked, and Annika swung harshly to the left, causing Mia to loose grasp the handle. The chain wrapped around the the Scythe, hitting Annika in the arm. She unraveled the chain and just as Mia hovered over her. With a lunge, she tackled the career and moments later, Annika held her in a choke hold with the chain. She pulled the chain tighter, and moments later, the final cannon sounded.
After the game, Annika returned to her first home to find her motherâs body gone and an urn sitting on the mantle. The next few weeks would be Annikaâs most difficult as she finally has time to internalize her motherâs death, the blood on her hands, and her relationship with Lucas.
A year later, Annika faces complications with maintaining her connection with the man who has become her lifeline. The Capitol demands so much of her. And she has so much to hide.
Leora Darte || District 10 || 19 || Victor of the 38th || FC: Adelaide Kane
Weapon of Choice: Survival
Private Training Score: 7
Number of Kills: None
Arena: Hills an Mountains
Leora has been described as independant, creative, selfless; stubborn, timid and blunt
Leora Darte hails from a family that had produced two victors since the Gamesâ beginning: Ravyn and Adric Darteâmother and son. However, Leora was not directly related to the two, but instead distant cousins by marriages. It was a tradition for people of her family to be raised underneath the fear of being reaped to learn at least the mere basics of using a knife, but not Leora. Rather than learning how to harm, she learned how to heal. Â
After the death of her father at the age of five, due to a âmisunderstandingâ with a peacekeeper, her mother was left to raise Leora on her own. Together they ran a little shop that was often funded by both Adric and Ravyn to provide medicine to both victors and citizens of District Ten. They didnât have things such as morphling in the shop but rather natural remedies for illnesses or wounds. Their most common customers were victors, both those who lived in District Ten and those who would have to travel to the district due to tours. The profit that came from the victors are what allowed the two to get by fairly well.
In school, she excelled in the subjects. Her nose was almost always in a book and she stayed completely out of anyoneâs way. With only a few friends, mostly children of parents who often come to the shop for some sort of medicine and some of her family members, she was content with who she knew. Often times she would remain alone, however, against a fence or against a tree or somewhere out in a pasture either just looking out or with her eyes to a book that she found.
Leora would never have to take the tesserae, which was only a slight relief to her mother. Leoraâs mother had treated family members of tributes who died in the arena, seeing their hopelessness that plagued them and sometimes almost killed them. After the loss of her husband, to lose her daughter would destroy herâand Leora knew this as well. Each and every time it was the day for the Reaping, she would reassure her mother that she wasnât going to be chosen. But on the day of the 38th Reaping, that wasnât the case.
âOh! A surname I havenât seen in awhile, Leora Darte!â
Her mother was sobbing as she came in the room to say her goodbyes. The two knew that Leora truly didnât have the heart to kill and that she was nothing like what the Capitol knew of what follows with the last name âDarteâ. They both knew this was going to be the last time they would see each other. âYou have to promise me you wonât give up, whatever happens,â Leora said to her mother. âPeople need you. You have a lot of people who rely on you for help. Promise me.â Her mother nodded, kissing her forehead before handing her a gold necklace. âIt-It was your fatherâs. He gave it to me wheneverâwhenever we got married.â That was the only time her father was really ever mentioned. For some reason, her mother refused to talk about him or what happened and it was never something that Leora really looked into. âYou wouldâve made your father so proud, Leora.â
And that was the last thing that her mother said to her before they got onto the train.
Adric Darte was her mentor, the two were not well acquainted. Ravyn retired from mentoring a few years after her son had taken over. Leora knew how hard it was for Ravyn to mentor, every year they would come back with coffins the visits to the shop were daily for medicine to help with suicidal thoughts and for sleep. Adric talked with the boy tribute first. The two talked about what strengths she had, and he seemed more confident in her capabilities than she had. âI donât want to kill anyone.â She admitted. He looked down at his hands, giving a soft smile, âNone of us do. But when the time comes, it sometimes becomes a necessity.â
Once at the Capitol, she was brought to her stylists and she stayed still for whatever torture they put her through. Eventually one of the stylists mused, âSheâs good at keeping character.â Leora, confused, asked, âWhat do you mean?â âSweetie, we all know how you all act, you donât have to put up an act for us. Weâre used to some resistance from you. But props to you for putting on this âcompliant, kind young girl,â the crowd will love that manipulation for the games!â Manipulation? She was only acting as herself. After the parade, she went up to Adric and asked what they meant. He only laughed, âYouâre different from us, thatâs what it is. Itâs nothing bad. The Capitolites are dumb enough to think itâs an act. Just be yourself, both her and in the arena. Theyâll just expect a twist suddenly in the games. You donât have to play for them though.â
During training, she was approached by a career from two. He taunted her about her size and about how he would easily take her down. Leora simply continued with her work and ignored whatever he said. They all thought she was playing an act. There were a few tributes who were from lower districts that could see that there was some genuinity in how she acted. But after all, the career was right, she was smaller than most that came from the same family. An act would benefit someone like her. During the private training, she was told to present her skills, she used a trainer, giving him a few berries to eat. Nervously, she explained what the berries would do, what toxic substances that were within the berries would do to the body such as temporary blindness. And then provided a remedy for the trainer. Somehow, this allowed her to receive a score of 7.
âYou have a sponsor looking at you,â Adric said to her. âI hope they donât expect me to be a psychopathic killer once I get into the arenaâno offense.â He returned a smile, âWe all knew my mother was a bit insane. I donât blame her. But no, this sponsor normally doesnât even look our direction. But she likes you, youâre the âunderdogâ.â Leora felt relieved. Despite whatever Adric had told her about the âactâ and what the Capitol was truly expecting, she understood that all that truly mattered once she got into the arena was to survive. Adric had to worry about her and her district partner but already hailed from a name that is favorable among many sponsors and told the two of them to not worry about being brutal in order to get something from a sponsor. During her interviews, she was sincere. Talking about her home and her family, her mother mostly. The stylists dressed her into something light to resemble what âcharacterâ she was portraying.
The morning of the arena, she was brought to the launch room with her head stylist waiting to help her dress. âI need to tell you something, Alethea. There is no act, there never was.â Alethea gave a sad smile, helping her put on a jacket that the Capitol provided before putting her hands on Leoraâs arms. âGive them hell.â Leora knew that Alethea was being genuine.
What they were lifted into was a beautiful landscape of rolling hills and mountains. Â The beauty brought a smile to her face. It reminded her of the far off places she saw from the pastures of ten, far off in the district, the place she always wanted to go to. The sound of the announcers brought her back to reality, the voice echoing off the mountains. âWelcome to the 38th Annual Hunger Games!â Her eyes scanned the cornucopia, there was a small pack close by that she would easily be able to grab and then get away from everything and that is what she did. Making her way into a wooded area to the south of the cornucopia, taking refuge in a tree while she looked through her small pack: all that was inside was iodine tablets, a pack of three matches, and some rations of dried fruit.
8 cannons fired a few hours into the arena. Leora decided to start to move afterwards, picking some recognizable berries from bushes that she knew were safe to eat and ate them along the way. The bushes were plump with berries in the area. She decided to pluck a bush that had poisonous berries that looked similar to those that were safe to eat, to look as if they were safe before discarding of the poisonous berries elsewhere. If someone dies, itâs their lack of knowledge. She reminded herself.
For the next few days, Leora would have some close calls almost running into another tribute and 4 more tributes would fall. Already she had received a sponsor gift, a canteen and a knife. She knew she wouldnât use the knife against someone, but instead she began to use it to cut up branches for making fires that she would make to lure people towards where she was to leave the location anyway. The game she played was that of cat and mouse, and she was the playful mouse. She had messed with the career pack on the third day of the arena, setting up false camps for them to investigate and they were fools with picking some berries. A few of them ended up vomiting whatever they had left in them from the Capitol afterwards.
On the 6th night of the arena, the gamemakers sent out mutts. Foxes and coyotes, attracted to the tributes smell. Leora had been traveling on foot since the sun set to find a new location to camp when she heard the growls. It was the only time that she willingly pulled out her knife in defense. Leora kept her breathing calm. Foxes were common around District Ten and she was able to recognize the growl. The darkness of the woods prevented her from seeing the small canine run up to her leg and begin to bite. Leora kicked him away and looked around in the darkness for any others. Another jumped on her back, its claws digging into her back and its teeth going into her shoulder. She brought the knife to where its face was so it let go in a yelp. Limping as she ran, she squinted to find a tree she could climb. The canines bit at her feet and arms as she looked. Eventually she managed to find a tree that was easy enough to climb.
She didnât get too far, having to stop because she started to feel light headed. The canines snarled as they tried to reach her before becoming dissatisfied and ran away. Leora took what iodine tablets and rations of food she had and stuffed it into her jacket pockets before cutting up the pack was using to carry the items to cover up the wounds after cleaning them with water. The only hope she had at that moment was that a sponsor gift was not too far away. She only put the makeshift bandages on the wounds that were bleeding more in attempts to control it.
2 more cannons fired that night and a sponsor gift came at sunrise with bandages and some ointment.
Over the next few days she would treat her wound and not travel far lengths at a time. On the 10th day, she ran into her district partner. She cleaned up a cut he had, since he hadnât done it properly on his own. Leora learned that he had killed three tributes already. He wasnât surprised to hear that Leora had managed to not. The two separated later on that day and he would die on the 12th day from the career pack.
The closest call she had occurred on the 14th day of the arena, when she was spotted by a tribute from District Seven. The tribute made chase for a while before getting tired and abandoning it. Later on that night, 4 tributes remained. She received her last sponsor gift that night, a small pack with food and water and a note from Adric: âYouâre almost home.â
She decided to eat a fourth of the food that she got and drink enough water to rehydrate herself before turning in for the night. It was in the morning that she awoke to the ground shaking and a roaring sound echoing through the trees. The sounds of trees snapping echoed in the quiet arena. Leora got down from her spot and looked around where she was. The roaring sound began to get louder and trees in her line of sight began to fall underneath the pressure of an avalanche from one of the taller mountains. Running to the east, trying to get out of the forest before the avalanche reached her, she was swept in and lost consciousness.
Whenever she woke up, she was welcomed with a bright light above her. She squinted and everything blurred into focus. There was a faint beeping of a heart monitor and an iv was in her arm. Utterly confused, she tried to get up from her bed but was contested by a sharp pain in her side. The door opened and a woman in white entered, her purple hair stood in stark contrast to the white. âWelcome to the world of the living,â she said with a smile. Leora gave the woman a confused look, âWhere am I?â âYouâre back in the Capitol. You were the only tribute to survive the avalanche. With a broken ankle and some broken ribs and bruises here and there, but nonetheless, alive.â âIâI won?â
The interview after she was able to get up on her feet again was filled with admiration for her not killing anyone. Leora believed the chance of her surviving was sheer luck. When she got home, her mother refused to let her leave the house for a week and kept her in bed rest to heal. Adric would stop by every day to see how she was as well as Ravyn and her old friends. Leora didnât have the guilt of killing people, but she had the guilt of surviving. The nightmares that plagued her was of what she saw in the replays of the games, the deaths of the tributes. She felt guilty that she survived when they didnât.
Leora forced herself back into the life of how it was before the games, helping run the medicine shop with her mother, now being able to provide more medicinal herbs due to her winnings. But she joined Adric in mentoring during the 39th games and took the responsibility on her own during the 40th, despite Adricâs request to help. Leoraâs desire to help others, especially Victors as herself grew since she went to the Capitol. Not only would she be there for her tributes but for the other mentors as well.
Below the cut is your first writing challenge!! This marks the official opening of this game and also opens you up for free interaction with any of the tributes that have already had their bios posted. Remember that the OOC is the place to post if youâd like to invite other players to plot with you as we donât allow OOC posts on the dash, Open starters however are welcome.
Refer to the follow list to see who you can interact with so far, we have some more coming in soon!!
With all of that said, check out our first Writing Challenge and Event after the jump!
The 40th Hunger Games has just ended, Poseidon Bertram has been crowned the Victor after killing just over a Quarter of the tributes. Poseidonâs journey has just begun, but for the rest of you, youâve seen this cycle for years. A victory, a victor and then all that follows. For most of you, youâll have spent the Games in the Capitol as Mentor and now youâre preparing to return home to your District to face the families of the tributes that you failed to save.
For this challenge, you may post about your time following directly after the 40th Games before you return home to your District, Your journey back and finally returning to where youâre from. These can be in the form of One Shots or as threads with other Victors, you have several locations to choose from for this task. The training centre, the journey through the Capitol, the train station waiting for your ride back home. Use your imagination and have fun!
Obviously Poseidon, youâre just coming out of the games as Victor, The Capitol has done all it can to patch you up from your trials and tribulations and Caesar has Interviewed you making you relive the highlights (you may post this if you wish) and now, theyâre ready to return you to District 4 as Victor.Â
Have fun with this, introduce us to your character and by all means if you have any ideas of what youâd like to do for this challenge feel completely free to message us and run ideas by us that may interest other players too!!
Please tag all of your one shots as totcwc1 and all of your starters as totdwc1starter
