𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 ✩ 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔦𝔯

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CHAPTER TWO

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Sombrely rose did the sun that morning, ever so surprisingly, as why was sunshine filling the District on one day so rife with darkness. How depressingly peculiar that one such event that took up a mere few hours of one day stripped all of the inhabitants of any sense of joy which once warmed their hearts.

Barely recognisable would the shack be from a couple years ago, once washed with cerulean blue paint, now only a hint of it remained - even that was peeling off ever so tauntingly.

Repetitive storms had made a noticeable indent in the roof, splintering the inexpensive wood of which it was built from. Orion was always the carpenter of the family and the remaining souls were at a loss of how to repair the damage.

Only two rooms made up the barely worn to of credit building, one being a family room, where Odelya fried up fish is she had been so lucky to sneak some away from her job at the docks. This would fill their bellies only the smallest fraction of amount that could barely constitute eating.

Finnick would often have to provide them food, however it was rare that the Castellan's would accept. They were taught never to rely on anyone else to fulfil their basic needs.

The other happened to be a shared bedroom: Once belonging to six, then the execution at the pier came and down went it to four. Then the Sixty-Third Annual Hunger Games came and down it came again to two. Despite this, barely big enough was it to room one.

Broken glass was strewn underneath the windowsills, from last nights storm, which they had been yet to sweep away. They wouldn't have the chance until much later that day, the yearly reaping and fishing for tonight's supper would take up too much time to even think of clearing up their home.

Odelya was expected to wear nothing less than her prettiest dress for the reaping, in hopes of making an impression on the capitol if the odds were not in her favour - despite this, her most favourite dress was white, with ruffled sleeves and lace embellishments, which had been passed down in her family from mother to daughter for generations.

Yet, white was for the celebration of a happy life, not the expectation of incoming painful demises. Black was representative of death and suffering. So black was what she would wear.

Stepped did she into a black slip dress with tulle sleeves that she herself had embroidered with periwinkles and bluebells. Of course, they were hers and all of her relatives favourite flowers. As a child, Odelya had been quite the tailor, in order to help her family she would sell the pretty clothes of which she had created. On frequent occasions she would make a sale and it would breathe a fresh life into her family. This would cease upon her requirement to start work at the age of fourteen.

Getting ready on schedule was ever so hard without her Mama braiding pressed flowers into her hair. It was nothing but a nightmare attempting to braid her lengthy golden hair into a tight bun, she looked as though she was just fresh out of a fishing net.

Once ready, she would go into the family room where her Papa waited for her in his best suit. He'd kiss her hairline delicately, making sure to not mess up the intricate braids his beloved wife had spent all morning perfecting and then he would praise her beauty. Papa was the only person she ever believed when he spoke such compliments to her, Papa was the only person who never lied to her.

Neither of her parents would live long enough to see any of the four children they bore eligible for the Hunger Games.

Perhaps there was some sort of cruel mercy in the world.

Stood was a fourteen year old Reign, in front of a facsimile ornate mirror which hung above the fireplace - it was decorated with common rocks of which her Papa had found on the beach, filed into small spheres and painted white in attempts to resemble priceless pearls.

In the absence of Orion to aid him, Reign was tying and retying his old black tie. His black shirt was only half tucked in, and the bottoms of his dress shoes were scuffed up and coated in sand.

"Reign, darling, you really need to learn how to do this properly," Odelya giggled, leaning against the doorway to their shared bedroom, dressed in her mourning clothes.

With a disdainful look on his face, Reign turned from the mirror and hung his head low. Poor boy couldn't tie his tie to save his life.

"C'mere Reign," she beckoned with a small smile gracing her features.

He trudged towards her slowly, and allowed for her to carefully adjust his tie to hang smartly over his shirt, which she delicately smoothed out. Odelya's eyes fell to his shoes and she scowled at the sight of their uncleanliness.

"Make sure to drag them on the grass outside before we get to the Reaping Square."

"Of course, mother," He exclaimed with a dramatic eye roll.

Fondly smiling, she placed a kiss on his hairline, in a way of comforting him in response to today's upcoming events. Perhaps to reassure herself also that history would not repeat itself.

Reign wouldn't get reaped like Orion. He most certainly couldn't volunteer for her like Melody had.

She would stand between the heavens and the earth before letting Reign die in the same manner of which they did.

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