After The Storm (A Hunger Games Fanfic)

District Four Reapings

The inhabitants of District Four have an inherent love of folklore. It runs in their bones, so to speak, back even before the Dark Days, back to when District Four didn't even exist.

Before a voyage, the sailor's wives will sprinkle salt on the floor of the boat, which is meant to help the boat avoid capsizing.

Almost every single one of the quirky timber houses has a unique driftwood carving above the main threshold, which many believe will help keep out disease. They range from grotesque sea creatures with slavering fangs to shoals of fish and even the occasional mermaid.

Children starting training ('working') for the first time have to allow the mayor to make a small cut to the bicep of their right arm. Nobody is really sure why; the first tribute that did this won and it sort of caught on from there.

So imagine what it's like on a reaping day.

For anybody planning on volunteering, as well as many who aren't but like to feel like they're taking part, reaping day starts at night, up while it's still dark, before the first rays of golden sunlight shine through the water. They dress in swimming gear and flock to the beaches, swimming out into the cool waves.

They stay there, just floating and thinking, possible tokens clutched in hands, until the sun is above the horizon. Then they say goodbye to the friends they won't have time for in the Justice Building and go home to get changed. They never dry their hair.

Babies born the day before a reaping day are considered good luck, future victors. Their mothers hurry them down to the river and dip them in head first, holding them by the left ankle, which is meant to bring protection and immortality as a victor of the games.

Unlike in other districts where reaping mornings are still, in 4 they are a busy hive of activity.

And Tulisa loves it.

As the Capitol rep, she doesn't have to be out and about, but the buzzing atmosphere in Four is impossible to resist for someone brought up in the Capitol. As long as you ignore the smell of fish, of course. 

People run up to her to shake her hand and talk about betting and odds and sponsorship. Little children gawp and ask for autographs; she gives them a quick random swirl and glides on her way, her heels clacking on the glittering cobblestones. Kids with dripping wet hair parade around proudly in their traditional white reaping outfits, though many have added shells and splashes of colour. The wooden shanty houses have been decked out with colourful ribbons, blue and green. Little children shriek and shout happily; nobody cries. A tribute hasn't been reaped in Four since Amanda, and, well, she was never a proper District Four tribute anyway. According to the people. She takes Bob the cameraman with her, and he films it all, getting opinions from some of the wizened old geezers who remember when they were kids and tributes were tough, not brainy. The Capitol love this kind of happy-district footage and they'll probably show it during the Games, when things are slow.

Too soon, people start to drift eagerly towards the square and Tulisa is needed backstage so the makeup team can go over her one last time.

Finally, they've done combing her eyebrows and she bursts onto the stage to loud cheers and even a few whistles. The Mayor bows and kisses her hand before introducing her to the crowd. He's a handsome man, with rugged blonde looks and a wicked, boyish grin. Going a bit grey now, just around the temples, but if anything it only makes him more distinguished. Looking down into the sea of white, she can see eager faces, the volunteers at the front of the pens ready and raring to go.

But first, the speech. Luckily Four quite like the theatrical speech, especially when she hams it up with gestures and even a few tears, and they cheer and boo in all the right places.