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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jul 18, 2019 2:52:41 GMT -5
Amadrya Darrow
The fire-eyed maid of smoky war
It was the first night in the Arena, and it was Amadrya’s turn to keep watch. Macaria was on watch at the same time, which the District 7 girl supposed was fair enough; there was a lot of distrust still within the group and so it made a lot of sense to have more than one person on watch at a time. It made sure everyone was safe.
The night air was sharp and chilly, and the two girls had set up a small fire to protect them. Nobody would hunt the careers anyway, and they needed to keep warm through the night.
Both girls were bathed in the golden light of the fire, and the smell of woodsmoke surrounded them. It was almost pleasant, as the sharp features of Amadrya and the ruthless glint always in Macaria’s eyes were softened by the warm glow.
It was still a little uncomfortable, because after all the girls didn’t like one another. Amadrya hadn’t forgotten the exchange between them at the Cornucopia during the bloodbath and she was under no illusions that Macaria was nice or at all trustworthy. Macaria had probably been planning Amadrya’s death since before they got into the Arena.
So they both sat in a very awkward silence for a while, and Amadrya’s grey gaze dotted from the flames of the fire to the arena around them to the sleeping figures of Alessandro, Sapphire, Halina and Everest.
But then Macaria broke the silence.
“Thank you.” she had said, seemingly to nobody at all.
Amadrya knew, despite the lack of eye contact, that Macaria was genuinely trying to thank Amadrya. But she had no idea why.
“What?” Amadrya asked, a little surprised
“For saving my life at the Cornucopia. That was...cool of you.” Macaria responded with a small smile.
The District 2 girl’s tone retained its usual sharpness, but she actually sounded very genuine. Amadrya didn’t reply though, unsure what to say, until Macaria spoke again.
“Why didn’t you just let him kill me?” Macaria asked “You could have been one career down, one step closer to home, and it wouldn’t have affected anything. The pack would’ve been down one person but it wouldn’t have broken up. You could have taken the pack down more easily if there were fewer people to worry about.”
“I guess that’s just the difference between you and me, isn’t it?” Amadrya responded to the other girl
She had seen someone in danger who needed saving, where Macaria would have seen an opportunity.
But Amadrya’s tone had been harsh, and a little hostile, and so she decided to try and rectify that by speaking again, this time a little more nicely. Her sharpness had been unnecessary.
“I gave my word to be part of a team, and I stand by my word,” she explained after a moment of silence “and anyway the more of us there are right now, the more likely we all are to survive.”
And at that moment the girl turned her grey eyes over to the sleeping form of Everest. Macaria’s gaze followed hers, and a small smile was on her face when she looked back at Amadrya and her face was once again illuminated by the firelight.
“So you and Everest, then?” the other girl enquired
“There is no me and Everest,” Amadrya replied evenly
“Oh, please, we really don’t have to lie to one another,” Macaria chuckled knowingly “you’re so obviously head over heels I’m embarrassed for you.”
“So?” Amadrya responded a little too defensively
“So let me tell you something about Everest. I’ve known him a lot longer than you have. He isn’t going to admit how he feels about you even if he feels the same way, this whole thing is pointless. You need to stop pining over him if you want a chance of winning. You and he are never going to be a thing, and it’ll be better for you if you rip that bandaid off right now.”
“I could say the same about you and Romeo over there,” Amadrya pointed out, nodding towards Alessandro
“Oh, honey, you’re mistaken,” Macaria smiled “Alessandro and I are both careers, we know what we’re getting into and what the risks are. You’re not a career so you don’t know how dangerous it is to be with one. You’ll let your feelings run too deep and I guarantee Everest will, no matter how much he cares about you, stab you in the back if it gets him closer to winning. It’s all he’s been raised to care about, unlike you.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Amadrya asked “wouldn’t it be better for you to say nothing and let me fall for him? That would be a huge advantage for you.”
“Because the fight is no fun if it isn’t fair,” Macaria said with a shrug, “and it’s really a waste, it’s sad to see such strong contenders being so weakened by their emotions.”
They fell back into silence, but then Amadrya heard a whir, and saw a glint of glass. A camera. Had Macaria deliberately made sure they both talked about their romances in front of the camera? Amadrya felt a new respect for the other girl. She’d made sure were telling a compelling story, guaranteeing that the Gamemakers would keep them both alive at least a little longer. She’d even very effectively established a rivalry between them, another story the Capitol would be eager to follow.
It seemed that Macaria didn’t like to owe people either, and in repayment for Amadrya saving her life at the bloodbath she had given the other girl a better chance in the Games.
But she knew this didn’t change anything between them. Macaria still didn’t trust her and didn’t like her. They were just even now.
She didn’t think she’d ever fully figure Macaria out. |
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Jul 18, 2019 15:20:09 GMT -5
Amadrya Darrow
The fire-eyed maid of smoky war
They tortured the prisoners, of course; sometimes they wanted information from them (what little they had anyway) and other times it was merely for fun. Despite their attempts to follow Holly's advice the Capitol quickly caught on to the very effective strategy of using Everest and Amadrya against one another. And there was no torture worse than seeing Everest in pain, which he was whether it was him being punished or her.
But right now it was her turn, and Amadrya was strapped to something similar a hospital bed made of metal, or perhaps like an operating table. It didn't matter, both brought the clinical and uncomfortable images of hospital. She was absolutely soaked in water, which she was actually a little grateful for. It was unpleasant and she was cold but honestly it was the closest thing she ever got to a bath here.
She was dirty. None of the dirt from the Arena remained, of course, because she'd already been cleaned up once or twice to appear on TV for the Capitol. But that didn't matter because the dirt always returned, grime mainly from not being able to wash and with the dried blood from the injuries inflicted on her.
Her hair was loose, which she never usually would do, she had only worn it in its recognisable braids in front of the Capitol's cameras. It was unkempt, thick and wild, or at least it had been before it had been soaked; it now hung lankly. She'd gotten thinner too, and her body was littered with cuts and bruises. She didn't recognise the creature she had become, whatever it was.
She was tired now, that was all she was. Tired from the pain and fear and suffering and tired of being strong. She tried to continue to defy the Capitol, she said nothing when they interrogated her, but she was growing exhausted and weak and she didn't want to fight any more like she had from the moment she'd been reaped. But she didn't have a choice.
It was at that moment they started the electric shocks, the girl crying out in pain as her body convulsed involuntarily. She didn't want this, she wanted it to be over. The pain was getting too much now, the jolts spreading a shooting pain through her body that felt like it threatened to burst out of her skin at any moment.
She had to do the only thing she could to cope with the pain. Thinking of Everest didn't help her because he was in the Capitol too, suffering just like her, and that knowledge brought her no strength or joy. No, the only things that brought her the peace and strength that allowed her to deal with the torture were her memories back in District 7.
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"Darrow! We're done!"
That was the call for the end of the workday. It was the summer of Amadrya's fifteenth year, and the girl waved a thanks to the worker who had let her know before storing her axe away in the toolshed a little distance away. They kept the shed out here, outside the fence so that they could check the workers weren't bringing them back into the district. They said it was to prevent the theft of government property but everyone knew it was just because they were terrified by the idea of letting anyone carry weapons that could potentially be used in rebellion back into the district.
The other workers had gone for the day, which meant Amadrya had a little time. She didn't hunt, because she didn't have a bow and because the fence surrounding the district was often electrified. The electricity used to be patchier but since some rumblings had been heard in the district a couple of years back it was always electrified. The forests where most people worked were outside of this fence and so they didn't tend to turn on the electricity again until about an hour after work ended to give everyone time to get home. That meant the girl had some time to gather food.
Her family rarely had more than what was necessary for survival really, and since Amadrya lived with three teenage boys who seemed to always be hungry even that was sometimes not easy. Whenever she got a few moments she liked to gather some plants her parents had shown her when she was a child, things to fill out the meals at home.
She collected wild grains to fill out their flour, and even nettles, which could be used to make twine or even soup or tea. There were plenty of fungi around but the girl never risked those, since she didn't know which ones were poisonous or not. Wild garlic was also added to her collection, as well as mint. They could help liven up the otherwise bland meals if necessary. She put the plants she collected into a few pouches hanging by a belt at her waist.
And that was when she recognised a tall plant forming dense clumps of grass a little distance away with drooping heads. Pendulous sedge. She approached it and grabbed one of the heads, running her thumb along it to reveal the small brown seeds in it. Perfect; they could be ground into flour. She collected as many of these as she could.
It would take her about fifteen minutes to get to the fence again, so she had plenty of time, allowing her to wander a little further into the woodland. That was when she came across a thick bush of raspberries, which delighted her. It was very rare she find something like that in only the hour she had to wander the forest. She would have to note the location of this plant so she could return again. Berries were rarely seen on her family's table.
And that was why, with some time to spare, the girl climbed one of the tallest trees she could find nearby, going as high as she dared without risking breaking the branch she perched on. And she watched the sunset for a few minutes, snacking on a few of the berries she'd collected that day and letting their sweet flavour burst on her tongue.
Beautiful golden sunset, the soft rustling of the leaves in a gentle evening breeze, and the fresh air around her. Amadrya really didn't think she could have asked for anything better.
And in that moment she felt like maybe, just maybe, life wasn't so bad. |
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Jul 18, 2019 15:56:22 GMT -5
An alarm was blaring, and green eyes fluttered open, staring numbly at it. The clock read 7:00am, hours before the reaping. Yet somehow, Holly Alandria couldn’t find herself to care.
Raising herself up, she went through her daily routine, brushing her teeth, and then taking her shower. A shower that she remained in, staring at the drain and the water whirling down, it started off warm, and became ice cold. Raising a single hand, her right one, she numbly noted her fingers pruning.
Deciding she had enough of the shower, she shut off the water and exited, noting the clock once more. 8:00am, an hour after she woke.
The house was quiet, as it had been for almost a year. She kept a job as a seamstress’ apprentice, and the house was hers to keep, her parents had owned, and she just had to pay for electricity, food and water. All of which she could cover with her job’s money.
Finally dressing in a black and white blouse and black pants, along with black flats with white flower embroidery, she went to do her hair. Her hand raised to latch onto the ebony strands, surprised and still not used to the shorter length, yet taking a white ribbon, she tied it up in a tiny ponytail, with the ribbon tied into a bow and the tails hanging down.
Nothing else walked in the halls of the home, and the small girl was headed out the door towards the square. All of District 8 would be there to see the fate of two unlucky children.
Yet it was just another day, or so she thought...
District 8 was full of factories, Holly refused to work at them, ignored the, most of the time. But as she entered the square, and followed her age group, the looming factories caught her attention. The district of textiles.
Home, this was home. It was empty, but it was still home.
Her green eyes flew towards the stage, behind all of the older kids, it was almost hard to see. But the representative of the district, the chooser of names, was on stage, already beginning the yearly introduction.
“Welcome all!” The lady began, her hair bright blue and styled to look like a waterfall, Holly rolled her eyes at this, they were always so weird.
Then again...
“Now, I have the great honor of choosing the tributes who will represent District 8 in the 86th Hunger Games!”
Then again, this was only Holly’s 2nd reaping, but the death of family tended to cause depression and extreme annoyance, at least, it had with her.
The 13 year old girl watched the video they played every year, one she saw on TV a few times, but only once in person. She ignored it, for the most part, last year she had been scared of the reaping, but her mother and father had comforted her, even if her father was rather stoic, her mother was kind. Yet about a month later, she lost both, her mother died, and her father left her.
Suffice to say, this year, she wasn’t as afraid, she wasn’t really afraid at all. Apathetic? Yes. But afraid? Not really.
The video ended, the lady jabbered on for a good 5 minutes, before she finally spoke again, “Now, ladies first!” She trilled, standing before the bowl.
Unlike other children, Holly was young, 13, so the cumulative year build up only caused her name to be entered twice, and she took no tesserae. The likelihood of her being chosen over most others was low, especially the older kids, who due to the cumulative year build up would have their names entered multiple times.
It should be impossible for her to be picked that year, but...
“Holly Aladria!” The lady called, a slip of paper in her hand, and Holly froze in place.
Me?
Why her?
Yet those around her who recognized the unlucky girl backed away, and those who didn’t followed suit. She was like a plague, lost her family, and now certainly lost to death, no 13 year old ever won the games. The youngest victor ever was Finnick from District 4, and he was 14.
The woman in stage bored her eyes at Holly, a bit annoyed. Yet white noise existed in her ears. No, no, no, no!
“Holly Alandria?” The woman said again, and it registered to Holly, yet before she could force herself to move, a peacekeeper grabbed her arm, starting to force her forward.
She didn’t mean to, she didn’t mean to, but she elbowed him, hard, right in the gut, panicked by the man and the fact that he was a peacekeeper. Peacekeepers killed her mom.
He looked stunned, angry, and her hands covered her mouth in surprise at her actions. Yet she was confused as his gaze softened, he recognized her...
She recognized his face too, he used to talk to her parents a lot, he wasn’t there when her mom died, but she was sure he would have tried to stop it. Yet he couldn’t move before another pushed past him, approaching Holly with a raised hand and slapping her, hard, across the face, a small scratch formed under the right side of her right eye from a metal band on the glove, and yanking Holly’s hand and dragging her towards the stage. She was helpless to fight, and cradled her face with her other, free hand. The little cut was bleeding, but she knew pain.
She let off a small cry as he forcefully pushed her onto the stage, and she fell to her hands and knees beside the woman. Scurrying upwards, she stood in her spot and stared downwards.
She didn’t care who the male was, someone she didn’t know, someone much older than her, 18 years old. She shook hands with him when she was told to, and she remained silent.
She was dead, and yet somehow it seemed like some comfort all the same.
She spoke to come tributes on the night of the interview, dress in a blue long dress with a over-the-side shoulder cape, she was the youngest. Two people were 14, and most were 15 and older. Yet some people tended to speak to the girl, especially when they spoke to her. She was sarcastic, sardonic, and not at all the innocent sweetheart anyone expected.
Her District part, Sebastian, was a nice guy, for the most part, but she didn’t talk much to him. He saw her as weak and too rude. She couldn’t care less, she wouldn’t be working with him in the games. He was dressed in a similar outfit to her, a bit more plain, but the same color scheme.
He was talking to another girl tribute, one his age from District 7, laughing and joking. She could see it already. They would die, that was obvious.
Too friendly, too nice. Not exactly in love, yet, but certainly too close. The games were won with kindness.
And despite her hate of the games and hate of her own life, she wanted to try. She had no one to remember her, she didn’t want to kill for no reason, but maybe in self defense? She was more nimble and agile than most of the others, not strong, but swift. She was rather smart too, and could hide out most of the games.
She knew survival skills, she had to fend for herself for a year. She was sure she could make it further, probably not win, but make it far.
With newest determination, she faced forward, the parade went by like a flash, and Sebastian sent her a glance halfway through, his voice was soft, “You’re going to go far,” she mentioned out of nowhere.
Her gaze flickered to his brown one, curious and confused. “What?” She whispered back.
“I may not like you, but your like everyone else, a kid forced into these games.” He commented, “And instead of letting it destroy you, you’re still standing, you’ll make it far.”
She stared forward, not knowing how to respond. His words echoed in her mind, and even long after that parade, that night, she kept pondering it.
The night before the games was set for interviews, and Holly was glad not to be dressed in some overly fancy gala dress like some other girls. Yet she wasn’t happy with her outfit either, a red offshoulder long sleeve shirt and a mid length, almost long evergreen skirt. Her hair was laced with green leaves and red berry-shaped gems, with it left flaring out at the ends, not tied down or up, and her makeup was a soft evergreen. It wasn’t overdone, but it was a bit annoying.
So when she was called out, she barely battered an eyelash at her introduction, the male interviewer who she didn’t care to remember the name of greeted her, “Everyone, from District 8, Holly Alandria!” He started, and she waved slightly to the large crowd.
When she was seated, she crossed her legs and smoothed out her dress, and then fixed him with her evergreen eyes, her attention on him.
“So, Holly Alandria, I must note your stylist’s choice in outfit, it’s-“ he began, only for her to calmly interrupt.
“Yes, it’s a pun on my name,” she commented, causing some laughs in the audience.
“It sure seems to be!” He laughed out, before glancing at her, “Now, more seriously, what have you left behind at home?”
“Oh, nothing!” She piped up in response, almost laughing at the irony of the question, “I’ve left behind absolutely nothing,” she added, a almost joking tone to her voice that caused more people to laugh at the way she answered the question.
“No boys your interested in?” He added teasingly.
“Oh absolutely not, I’m 13, I’m too young for that,” she responded, shaking her head, “Or maybe I’m just not interested in that, I don’t think many boys would like being in my company.” She explained sarcastically, her tone sardonic per the usual.
The room was filled with small chuckles, and so did the man before her. “And why is that?”
“You’ve met me,” she gave a deadpan stare, “You already know what I’m like,” She added.
“Alright, Alright, next question!” He added, shaking his head with a good laugh, “What skills do you feel will help you out in the arena?”
“Is my wit not enough?” She asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow with her arms crossed over her chest. “Well, I’m guessing my snark is out of the question,” She added, rolling her eyes, “I dunno, I think that’s for me to know, and the others to find out.” She finally said, and he nodded in reply.
“One last question,” he commented, and she smirked.
“Aww, I don’t get to ask one?” She said with a pout, causing some laughs, she was of course joking.
“Oh sure, go ahead!” He played along, obviously doing so for the crowd, who seemed to enjoy her humor.
“Alright, Sir,” she began with a formal tone, obviously a soft, teasing one, mimicking him, before falling silent and tapping her chin, her gaze lit with slight annoyance, before she finally piped up again, “Oh never mind, this is a lot harder than it looks, you deserve a raise.”
Again, laughter filled the theater, no one expected the youngest tribute to be so snarky and witty.
“Alright, now Miss Holly,” he began.
“Usually it’s Miss or Mr Last Name but yeah sure, let’s go with it,” she piped in.
He moved on with a light shake of his head, “How do you feel about being the youngest tribute going into the games?” His tone was a little more down to Earth, calm and solemn.
She waited a moment, thinking, before fixing the crowd with a shrug, “It shouldn’t make a difference,” she commented, before looking back at him, “Should it?”
He paused, before smiling, nodding at her reply and standing up, in which she followed suit, and grabbing her hand to raise it, “Holly Alandria of District 8!” He added, and she walked off the stage with a apathetic look once more.
That seemed to go well.
She waved goodbye to her stylist, Sebastian had bid her a goodbye that morning, and she was now in her tube, ready to enter the Arena and start the games.
When sunlight returned after a few moments of darkness, the countdown had begun, and the girl glanced at the arena around her. It seemed darker than usual Arenas, with a mountain-like terrain and many dips. She already noted to watch for huge falls, and already knew that’s how many tributes would die.
She was sure there were caves too, by the look of the arena, and she counted down along with the timer, her gaze on the cornucopia for just a moment. If she went, the Careers would hunt her down, thinking her age made her an easy target. She couldn’t risk it.
Her gaze trailed to her left, where many jagged rocks protruded the ground and cliffs filled her sight. She would go there, not many tributes would. They would run for safe locations, and that’s where the Careers would most likely hunt first.
Smirking slightly, she barely took in her surrounding tributes before leaping into the air when the timer sounded. She was faster than almost all of the others, yet she had no interest in where many of them ran,
Her feet carried her elsewhere, her game of hide-and-seek had just begun.
Her reaping outfit:  Her Parade outfit:  Her Interview outfit: 
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