Tapping my chin, I frowned. Eye cover... Eye cover... My eyes shifted over to the wall, and I got an idea. Quickly I lifted the lapis-lazuli decorated flower pot on the table and threw it at the wall, jumping over to the side to avoid the shards. I took one piece and used it to cut off some cloth from my long-sleeve shirt. I smiled and held it up for Aurora to see. "Would this work?"
Before she could answer, the door opened behind me and I spun around. Filling the door frame was Oren, who did not really look pleased. "What are you two plotting?" he asked.
((OOC))
Sorry for the short post, I just needed to get it down before the three-day limit.
Er. Don't mean to call you out on this, but... you used "ppl" in your post, and said something about enderman... You see, this is a Hunger Games RP. It's not "anything goes". There are no endermen in the HG world. I'm assuming you've never read the books. So that would be a problem.
Also, I'd avoid chatspeak (like ppl) because it's very hard to read for some of us grammar nazis, and... well, I'd just revise and rethink.
Also also, it doesn't appear you've read the first post, because you missed an important part.
Also also also, the boy slot is taken for District 12.
So, I think this isn't the RP for you. Maybe you should try something else...?
I thought about it. They were good tricks, and probably would make the escort worry about why everyone was laughing about her appearance, but everybody would know it was us. There had to be a better trick that would be much more sneakier than this. I remembered that in the summer, when we went to the riverside we'd usually do our work in the water rather than out of it. When we were out, the sun would cook our skin and make it wrinkly and dry.
That gave me an idea, like a light-bulb in my head. "Do you have any kind of light source, like a flashlight or a lantern?" I asked, wondering if we had the right tools to do the job. This would be so fun. Help lighten up the mood. It reminded me of home, which I wanted to get back to already. I shook the thoughts from my head. You're here now, I scolded myself, so you might as well stop wishing for things you can't have. Can't have. The Capitol was restricting me from my choices. Why? What was the point of all of this? I needed to narrow my line of sight when it came to looking forward to the future. Just now, not tomorrow.
You can tell the prospect of the Hunger Games was wearing you down when even people like Aurora were being nice, for a change. My mood? Hm. Hard to say. I was upset, angry, and regretful all at once. But we could get our last ups before inevitably dying at the games. I said to the girl, "Yeah. Sure. Fine." I remembered that Nugget and I had done a few pranks on our own before. Granted, we couldn't do some of them without getting shot by a peacekeeper, but that just added to the excitement. And now? What did punishment matter? Twenty-four people - teenagers - were being punished for something people did a long time ago, before they were even born. There could only be one. One to survive. I'd thought it would be me, but now I felt weak and helpless. I wanted to jump off of the train, attempt to smash through the doors that held us back.
I shoved my emotions down my throat before I could voice them. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I told myself. It didn't really help, but at least I tried. I was glad at least one of us could be lighthearted at the moment - even the one person who shouldn't have been. Then again... she was a career. She must have been overcoming her nervousness. I wish I could have said the same thing. I needed to be strong. For my mom, my dad, Nugget, and my other friends. Without another word, I walked towards the escort's door.
I sighed in annoyance. I didn't feel like talking now, but I could tell there was no way out of the conversation. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. As if anyone could be fine while on the ride to the Capitol, I thought to myself. The train room was big. The floor was a brilliant red, with gold lines in a rectangle around the center. The flooring was different, I remembered, in every district. Ours was themed around gold, a precious metal. The precious metal, if you will.
Outside trees rushed past us. We were going at an insanely fast speed. There were emergency exit doors on either side of the room, but I knew they wouldn't open unless we had to get out. The precious tributes can't be escaping from certain death, after all! Aurora was surprisingly right on one point. Though she wasn't feeling anything, I was pretty nauseous, and I think I had a bump on my head. I couldn't tell if the spinning came from the train, my thoughts, the Hunger Games we were going to be in, or some combination of the three.
Yeah, I'm totally fine, I thought sarcastically.
((OOC))
Yeah, a little shorter this time, but it's late here and I have to go to bed... so I thought I'd might as well help the plot progress anyway.
I drifted through stages of consciousness. Sounds filtered through to my ears, light distorted and bended, shining on me at a weird angle. But I didn't want to get up. To get up would mean to resume this nightmare reality. I think I might have woken up once, but I fell back so quick I hurt my head. Now I was feeling movement, the rumble of ground. It was rhythmical; rumble-rumble-hum, rumble-rumble-hum, rumble-rumble-hum. The sound buzzed around my ear, stinging me like a bunch of tracker jackers, horrible bug muttations from the Capitol. My eyes snapped open and I found myself face-to-face with who I assume is Oren Fulm. My mentor.
Oren was a... well, how can I describe him? He wasn't a buff man, but he didn't seem like a wimp, either. His clothes sparkled silver and I had to momentarily shield my eyes from the light. He waited patiently for me, foot tapping on the ground, mixing into the odd sound of the... train. Train?! A quick glance around pointed this fact out to me. I was on a train, currently heading to the Capitol. I didn't get to say goodbye to my parents. Peacekeepers probably hauled me on here. Great.
"You're up. I was worried you wouldn't awake until you were rising up into the arena!" Oren said with enthusiasm. His smile was as bright and wide as the sun. Over his left ear was a jagged scar, dim red, probably from his days in the arena. It was sort of considered a status symbol if you had marks and wounds from the games. It shows that you're tough to kill, able to stand a lot of pain. I knew the story of Oren Fulm's victory. It was hard not to know in District One. Oren was able to make metals resemble food. Then he'd place it out on the ground, rig a small trap around it, and wait and watch. As people got more hungry in the arena, the more tempting the food looked. Oren managed to eliminate five of his competition. And then, at the end...
I muttered, "No... I want to sleep some more. Too... tired." And I was tired. My eyelids were drooping, my head was aching... I needed rest. Of course, it was hard to sleep on a train rumbling across a track on a long journey to the capitol. But I didn't want to think about the games. Not now. Not ever, if I had that choice.
Oren's hand shook my shoulder, nudging me to the side, almost falling off of my bed. "Come on! Get up! You need to" - he grunted - "meet the other tribute!" The tribute. That snob who may or may not be a career, was pretty wimpy either way, and was pretty much horrible personality-wise? Why yes, just who I want to meet! Lazily I got out of my bed, stretched, and walked towards the door. I was already wearing my clothes, so I didn't bother to change. I opened the exit and stepped out into the train.
Also, Lexi, I'd prefer it if you didn't move my character for me. I didn't want Gaud to wake up on the stage. I wanted to have him wake up at his house, right before saying the goodbyes. So, please edit that out or something.
My mouth was dry when I stepped into the square. Standing on a stage that they set up for the reaping was the mayor, a young buff man with a bad attitude. As far as we knew, the mayor had never been reaped, never been forced to compete in the Hunger Games. He didn't know our pain, so he took the reaping in stride. He cared for none of us, and to him we were just his pawns who did his work for him. Secretly, I hated him, but I didn't say anything out loud, should anybody overhear me.
"People of District One," he said, voice mild, "The time has come again for us to remember. To remember how in the ruins of the ancient civilization arose the nation of Panem, and it's thirteen districts. To remember how the Dark Days of the rebellion must never be repeated. And so, to help us remember, two tributes, one boy and one girl, from this very district will have the honor of competing in the annual Hunger Games." All of us knew the story of the Dark Days. The thirteen districts of Panem rebelled against the Capitol. There was a war. The Capitol won, and we got the Hunger Games because of it.
The district was completely silent. Hands were shaking at people's sides, tears were flowing from mothers and fathers, and some people were hunched over into balls. Everybody was scared. We didn't bother to hide that. The Capitol enjoyed our fear, like leeches sucking on blood. One in twenty-four. Twenty-four tributes. One victor. At least one of the reaped will die in our district. Fear jolted through me.
The mayor, finished with his speech, walked over to the side to introduce the escort for District One, a woman with pale blue skin. Typical. I didn't bother to catch her name. I was so filled with rage, I had to restrict myself from freaking out and choking every single Peacekeeper, every single Capitol person in our district. My district.
"Well then," she said, in that gooey Capitol voice that makes me feel like I have glue stuck in my throat. To the side of me I noticed a girl, who I recognized as that snobby rich career down the street, come in a few minutes late. "Hello, citizens! Welcome to the forty-seventh annual reaping. It's an honor to be here. I will be pulling the names out of the glass jar, picking two lucky boys and girls to be tributes in the Hunger Games."
Her blue hand shoots into the jar, way too excited than she should have been. She dug around, hovering over slips of paper, shifting around as if she was trying to decide on which one to pick. Like she cared who. She grasped one of them and slowly pulled it out. "Our girl tribute will be..." she paused dramatically. "Aurora Lipting!"
Yes! That snobby career girl got picked! Though these thoughts were probably cruel, I was happy it was her and not somebody else. If a career was picked, then the other careers knew to back off. It was an honor to them, and they knew they couldn't take it away. However, Aurora made a squealing noise, her eyes looking as if they were going to tear up, and she walked down the town square up on to the stage. As she went past, she bumped into me and I rolled my eyes. She calls herself a career, and yet she acts like this on reaping day? Please.
The escort said, "I'm Fluster Gillen, your escort, and Jikwea Kentin over there, he's your mentor." What horrendous names. They were all fluffy and pompous in the Capitol, which reflected how they didn't care for anything in the world. It was all bread and circuses to them.
The next minutes were a blur. They did the whole shiblam, with all the "congratulations on being sent to your death", and the "we're so proud we get to make you die!" stuff. Then, they picked the boy tribute.
Time seemed to slow down as the name was fished out of it's hiding place at the bottom of the jar. Slowly it was unfolded and Fluster read the name, the horrible, horrible name of a person that meant everything to me. "Nugget Glasden!"
I gasped in shock.
No. Not him. There had to be a mistake. If anybody was picked, it should have been me. I never suspected he'd be reaped. But then again, the Capitol always knows how to surprise you, doesn't it? I know they planned this. They think I'm a thief. They're sending me to the games as punishment. But they don't want anybody to notice. So they picked Nugget, knowing that I'd volunteer for him. Which is what I was going to do.
Time returned to normal again, and before anybody could do it before me, I yelled, "Wait! Stop! No! I volunteer for him! I'll be a tribute in the Hunger Games!"
Without hesitation, Fluster said, "Well! What do we have here? A rivalry, perhaps? Well, I'm sorry then, Mr. Glasden, but you're not going to the games this year!" I walked forward, knowing that at the end of my life was going to be a death in the arena. "Your mentor is Oren Fulm, and he will train you this-"
Before she can finish, I feel the world fading to black, engulfing me like a wave. I fall down to the ground, near unconscious. I'm sorry, parents, I think before everything was fully gone, But I won't be coming back to you. I'm going to the games this year.
Mentor Application
Name: Oren Fulm
Gender: Male
Personality: Oren is lighthearted and casual, and doesn't seem to have any emotional scars from the Hunger Games. He won his games by luring others into traps with golden food he could make. At the end, during the showdown between him and his rival, he became the victor by using his golden food as weapons. He is upset that sometimes the tributes he trained all die.
Style: He wears silver clothing, studded with diamond shards.
0
0
0
Tapping my chin, I frowned. Eye cover... Eye cover... My eyes shifted over to the wall, and I got an idea. Quickly I lifted the lapis-lazuli decorated flower pot on the table and threw it at the wall, jumping over to the side to avoid the shards. I took one piece and used it to cut off some cloth from my long-sleeve shirt. I smiled and held it up for Aurora to see. "Would this work?"
Before she could answer, the door opened behind me and I spun around. Filling the door frame was Oren, who did not really look pleased. "What are you two plotting?" he asked.
((OOC))
Sorry for the short post, I just needed to get it down before the three-day limit.
0
0
Also, I'd avoid chatspeak (like ppl) because it's very hard to read for some of us grammar nazis, and... well, I'd just revise and rethink.
Also also, it doesn't appear you've read the first post, because you missed an important part.
Also also also, the boy slot is taken for District 12.
So, I think this isn't the RP for you. Maybe you should try something else...?
0
I thought about it. They were good tricks, and probably would make the escort worry about why everyone was laughing about her appearance, but everybody would know it was us. There had to be a better trick that would be much more sneakier than this. I remembered that in the summer, when we went to the riverside we'd usually do our work in the water rather than out of it. When we were out, the sun would cook our skin and make it wrinkly and dry.
That gave me an idea, like a light-bulb in my head. "Do you have any kind of light source, like a flashlight or a lantern?" I asked, wondering if we had the right tools to do the job. This would be so fun. Help lighten up the mood. It reminded me of home, which I wanted to get back to already. I shook the thoughts from my head. You're here now, I scolded myself, so you might as well stop wishing for things you can't have. Can't have. The Capitol was restricting me from my choices. Why? What was the point of all of this? I needed to narrow my line of sight when it came to looking forward to the future. Just now, not tomorrow.
Breathe,
Breathe.
0
You can tell the prospect of the Hunger Games was wearing you down when even people like Aurora were being nice, for a change. My mood? Hm. Hard to say. I was upset, angry, and regretful all at once. But we could get our last ups before inevitably dying at the games. I said to the girl, "Yeah. Sure. Fine." I remembered that Nugget and I had done a few pranks on our own before. Granted, we couldn't do some of them without getting shot by a peacekeeper, but that just added to the excitement. And now? What did punishment matter? Twenty-four people - teenagers - were being punished for something people did a long time ago, before they were even born. There could only be one. One to survive. I'd thought it would be me, but now I felt weak and helpless. I wanted to jump off of the train, attempt to smash through the doors that held us back.
I shoved my emotions down my throat before I could voice them. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I told myself. It didn't really help, but at least I tried. I was glad at least one of us could be lighthearted at the moment - even the one person who shouldn't have been. Then again... she was a career. She must have been overcoming her nervousness. I wish I could have said the same thing. I needed to be strong. For my mom, my dad, Nugget, and my other friends. Without another word, I walked towards the escort's door.
0
0
0
I sighed in annoyance. I didn't feel like talking now, but I could tell there was no way out of the conversation. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. As if anyone could be fine while on the ride to the Capitol, I thought to myself. The train room was big. The floor was a brilliant red, with gold lines in a rectangle around the center. The flooring was different, I remembered, in every district. Ours was themed around gold, a precious metal. The precious metal, if you will.
Outside trees rushed past us. We were going at an insanely fast speed. There were emergency exit doors on either side of the room, but I knew they wouldn't open unless we had to get out. The precious tributes can't be escaping from certain death, after all! Aurora was surprisingly right on one point. Though she wasn't feeling anything, I was pretty nauseous, and I think I had a bump on my head. I couldn't tell if the spinning came from the train, my thoughts, the Hunger Games we were going to be in, or some combination of the three.
Yeah, I'm totally fine, I thought sarcastically.
((OOC))
Yeah, a little shorter this time, but it's late here and I have to go to bed... so I thought I'd might as well help the plot progress anyway.
0
I drifted through stages of consciousness. Sounds filtered through to my ears, light distorted and bended, shining on me at a weird angle. But I didn't want to get up. To get up would mean to resume this nightmare reality. I think I might have woken up once, but I fell back so quick I hurt my head. Now I was feeling movement, the rumble of ground. It was rhythmical; rumble-rumble-hum, rumble-rumble-hum, rumble-rumble-hum. The sound buzzed around my ear, stinging me like a bunch of tracker jackers, horrible bug muttations from the Capitol. My eyes snapped open and I found myself face-to-face with who I assume is Oren Fulm. My mentor.
Oren was a... well, how can I describe him? He wasn't a buff man, but he didn't seem like a wimp, either. His clothes sparkled silver and I had to momentarily shield my eyes from the light. He waited patiently for me, foot tapping on the ground, mixing into the odd sound of the... train. Train?! A quick glance around pointed this fact out to me. I was on a train, currently heading to the Capitol. I didn't get to say goodbye to my parents. Peacekeepers probably hauled me on here. Great.
"You're up. I was worried you wouldn't awake until you were rising up into the arena!" Oren said with enthusiasm. His smile was as bright and wide as the sun. Over his left ear was a jagged scar, dim red, probably from his days in the arena. It was sort of considered a status symbol if you had marks and wounds from the games. It shows that you're tough to kill, able to stand a lot of pain. I knew the story of Oren Fulm's victory. It was hard not to know in District One. Oren was able to make metals resemble food. Then he'd place it out on the ground, rig a small trap around it, and wait and watch. As people got more hungry in the arena, the more tempting the food looked. Oren managed to eliminate five of his competition. And then, at the end...
I muttered, "No... I want to sleep some more. Too... tired." And I was tired. My eyelids were drooping, my head was aching... I needed rest. Of course, it was hard to sleep on a train rumbling across a track on a long journey to the capitol. But I didn't want to think about the games. Not now. Not ever, if I had that choice.
Oren's hand shook my shoulder, nudging me to the side, almost falling off of my bed. "Come on! Get up! You need to" - he grunted - "meet the other tribute!" The tribute. That snob who may or may not be a career, was pretty wimpy either way, and was pretty much horrible personality-wise? Why yes, just who I want to meet! Lazily I got out of my bed, stretched, and walked towards the door. I was already wearing my clothes, so I didn't bother to change. I opened the exit and stepped out into the train.
0
0
My mouth was dry when I stepped into the square. Standing on a stage that they set up for the reaping was the mayor, a young buff man with a bad attitude. As far as we knew, the mayor had never been reaped, never been forced to compete in the Hunger Games. He didn't know our pain, so he took the reaping in stride. He cared for none of us, and to him we were just his pawns who did his work for him. Secretly, I hated him, but I didn't say anything out loud, should anybody overhear me.
"People of District One," he said, voice mild, "The time has come again for us to remember. To remember how in the ruins of the ancient civilization arose the nation of Panem, and it's thirteen districts. To remember how the Dark Days of the rebellion must never be repeated. And so, to help us remember, two tributes, one boy and one girl, from this very district will have the honor of competing in the annual Hunger Games." All of us knew the story of the Dark Days. The thirteen districts of Panem rebelled against the Capitol. There was a war. The Capitol won, and we got the Hunger Games because of it.
The district was completely silent. Hands were shaking at people's sides, tears were flowing from mothers and fathers, and some people were hunched over into balls. Everybody was scared. We didn't bother to hide that. The Capitol enjoyed our fear, like leeches sucking on blood. One in twenty-four. Twenty-four tributes. One victor. At least one of the reaped will die in our district. Fear jolted through me.
The mayor, finished with his speech, walked over to the side to introduce the escort for District One, a woman with pale blue skin. Typical. I didn't bother to catch her name. I was so filled with rage, I had to restrict myself from freaking out and choking every single Peacekeeper, every single Capitol person in our district. My district.
"Well then," she said, in that gooey Capitol voice that makes me feel like I have glue stuck in my throat. To the side of me I noticed a girl, who I recognized as that snobby rich career down the street, come in a few minutes late. "Hello, citizens! Welcome to the forty-seventh annual reaping. It's an honor to be here. I will be pulling the names out of the glass jar, picking two lucky boys and girls to be tributes in the Hunger Games."
Her blue hand shoots into the jar, way too excited than she should have been. She dug around, hovering over slips of paper, shifting around as if she was trying to decide on which one to pick. Like she cared who. She grasped one of them and slowly pulled it out. "Our girl tribute will be..." she paused dramatically. "Aurora Lipting!"
Yes! That snobby career girl got picked! Though these thoughts were probably cruel, I was happy it was her and not somebody else. If a career was picked, then the other careers knew to back off. It was an honor to them, and they knew they couldn't take it away. However, Aurora made a squealing noise, her eyes looking as if they were going to tear up, and she walked down the town square up on to the stage. As she went past, she bumped into me and I rolled my eyes. She calls herself a career, and yet she acts like this on reaping day? Please.
The escort said, "I'm Fluster Gillen, your escort, and Jikwea Kentin over there, he's your mentor." What horrendous names. They were all fluffy and pompous in the Capitol, which reflected how they didn't care for anything in the world. It was all bread and circuses to them.
The next minutes were a blur. They did the whole shiblam, with all the "congratulations on being sent to your death", and the "we're so proud we get to make you die!" stuff. Then, they picked the boy tribute.
Time seemed to slow down as the name was fished out of it's hiding place at the bottom of the jar. Slowly it was unfolded and Fluster read the name, the horrible, horrible name of a person that meant everything to me. "Nugget Glasden!"
I gasped in shock.
No. Not him. There had to be a mistake. If anybody was picked, it should have been me. I never suspected he'd be reaped. But then again, the Capitol always knows how to surprise you, doesn't it? I know they planned this. They think I'm a thief. They're sending me to the games as punishment. But they don't want anybody to notice. So they picked Nugget, knowing that I'd volunteer for him. Which is what I was going to do.
Time returned to normal again, and before anybody could do it before me, I yelled, "Wait! Stop! No! I volunteer for him! I'll be a tribute in the Hunger Games!"
Without hesitation, Fluster said, "Well! What do we have here? A rivalry, perhaps? Well, I'm sorry then, Mr. Glasden, but you're not going to the games this year!" I walked forward, knowing that at the end of my life was going to be a death in the arena. "Your mentor is Oren Fulm, and he will train you this-"
Before she can finish, I feel the world fading to black, engulfing me like a wave. I fall down to the ground, near unconscious. I'm sorry, parents, I think before everything was fully gone, But I won't be coming back to you. I'm going to the games this year.
I'm going to the Hunger Games.
0
Name: Oren Fulm
Gender: Male
Personality: Oren is lighthearted and casual, and doesn't seem to have any emotional scars from the Hunger Games. He won his games by luring others into traps with golden food he could make. At the end, during the showdown between him and his rival, he became the victor by using his golden food as weapons. He is upset that sometimes the tributes he trained all die.
Style: He wears silver clothing, studded with diamond shards.
0