The usual hustle and bustle around district four commenced as soon as the sun rose that morning, even though as far as the streets went, it almost appeared as all the inhabitance had up'd sticks and left.
Around the district, feelings were different. Frail, little Xavier Reffnot was as frail and jittery as always since his first reaping day two years previously. To him it didn't feel like two seconds ago since his name had been called out of the reaping bowl, and before he'd even kissed goodbye to his past life, the lives of his twin siblings were on the line, and it was entirely his mothers fault.
Away from the victors village, were it had simply come a trraditiom for them to pack their bags and wait for who was going to die this year, the poor part of the distirct still had to do their usual day to day chours, pushing the thought of their children going away to slaughter to the back of their minds.
Mrs Atten was in a similar situation, with her five children all in the bowl of death, the possibility of one of her children been picked was five times more than the Reffnots next door, with only one child with their head on the chopping block, not that Mrs Atten remembered that the Reffnot's had moved out ages ago, or any of the other trivial facts that surrounded that family. Compliaction always clouded up her confused mind.
Her eldest son, the one who was secretly her favourite, was plaiting little Martha's hair up in the neatest way any male could manage, his enourmously strong hands struggling with her thin blonde hair. The mother smiled, nudging him out of the way and taking over, not wanting her to go to the Capitol looking a mess.
"Don't let him watch, mama," Denzel said to his mother under his breath, glancing towards Dylan who was watching the three girls and Denzel preparing for the reaping.
She simply nodded in reply, not taking her eyes away from Martha's hair. Usually Martha would have something sarcastic to say, but this year was her first reaping and her nerves were uncontrolable. She'd been in the dome training for years, yet she knew she would never be ready to kill someone.
"Plait my hair, mama!" Dylan giggled from beside her, tugging on her sleeve, his breakfast down his front and his hair tossled in every direction.
"You and Margot are going to stay with mama," Denzel said firmly, picking up the boy and throwing him over his shoulder, dumping him down on the other side of the room. "Come on girls, we'll be late and that's the last thing we want."
"You look like a tramp with your hair like that," Marcella said, ruffling his hair, actually attempting to be nice for once in her own little way.
"Come on," Denzel said, wandering over to the door, holding it open for his sisters to dash out.
As they walked down the street all dressed in their Sunday best, they got looks from the group of school kids that were making their way down the harbour. Denzel smiled at the girl with the aurburn hair amongst them all, taking one sister in each hand and making his way to the justice building, the thought of her smile fresh in his mind.
Finnick cracked his knuckles as he waited for the doors of the justice building to swing open. He knew he should've at least attempted to make an effort with his appearance, but his net pants and white tee would have to do.
"Have you even brushed your hair?" Aubrey said as Coral and her came and stood either side of him.
"Nope," he shrugged, ruffling Aubrey's hair which had been perfectly curled and styled, sending it into a wild afro.
"God sake Finnick," she replied, smooting it down as Coral grinned.
"Let the 69th Annual Hunger Games begin..." said the voice of a grumpy Gus as he squeeze infront of the victors and other collection of people with some importance. He pushed open the door, wandering out to the megaphone, the mayor and his wife following him out to the left side of the stage,
Coral pushed back her shoulders, flicking her hair into place before strutting onto stage, finally mastering the ability not to feel nervous after almost half a decade of reapings. The others followed her, some having the same confidence, others not.
Aubrey let her gaze wander around the crowds of people who were stood in silence, looking up in awe and fear, not knowing how the next hour would play out. Once everyone was comfterable, Gus coughed into the microphone, letting a manic clown like smile fill his heavily powdered face.
"Happy Hunger Games," he said, flinging his hands into the air. "And may the odds be ever in your favour."
He dug his hand into the bowl, sweeping it through the papers for at least a minute. The mayor gave a little cough, giving Gus the last push to pick one slip out.
"Nutmeg Calder," Gus coughed, ripping up the paper and throwing it into the air like confetti, laughing manically as he did so.
Finnick squinted through the crowd, the name ringing a bell but not knowing whether he placed the face or not. A petit brunette with a ridiculously slender figure and tense face wandered down the middle isle towards the stage, a werid air of confidence surrounding her.
She stood next to Gus, glaring out into the crowd, her eyebrows so scrunched they were almost touching her pupils. Gus grinned at her for while, probably trying to provoke her to get a laugh out of the people in the Capitol, but she just kept on staring straight forwards, as if she was bored.
"Now for the boys," Gus sighed, arching his left eyebrow, which looked bizzare due to the fact that they were styled into little waves going right across to his hairline.
He repeated the process of digging in the bowl, making the crowd feel more tense than previously, but Nutmeg just stood there... staring.
"Plankton Melone" he said with a little squeel at the end, a little boy who barely looked twleve with a sickly figure, wandered onto stage after being pushed and shooved by his peers, his mouth wide open, almost in tears.
"Right.." Gus squeeled, clapping his hands, making the victor Troye roll his eyes in annoyance. "Have we got any volunteers?"
"I volunteer as tribute," said a boy with long blonde hair that was desperatley in need of some scissors, tanned face, built up body, who had attended the training dome since he was four years old...
"No," Aubrey said, digging her fingernails into Finnick's arm, the colour draining out of her face. "No Denzel, no..."
