MagicPocket
EMT Extraordinaire
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Remember: Characters from the book such as the tributes from the Games in the first book--including characters like Katniss, Peta, and Gale, do not exist.
@Aura, @HanaChan13, @Equinox, @Coedy, @Ember Bare, @ToxicCupCakez, @♥Lost_In_Paradise♥, @dististik
The original reason--she heard from her father when her passed it down to her after the reaping, though it was only a rumor--that it was more painful, that instead of the soft flesh of the lower ear, that may close up, the hard cartilage is slower and teaches patience and appreciation. Kitinger thought it was a load of bull when she heard it. She thought of this as she rubs the still irritated skin. A shiver ran down her spine. It was always the gnawing pain that hurt the worst, that nothing you could do would possibly make it better, if nothing else, worse. Kitinger pulled her fingers away to examine the thin smudge of blood left on her fingers. It was much at all. Nethertheless she was proud of the stud, it was a great honor. Smugly she smiled as she thought back to the moment her father gave it to her.
The look of contempt on her older sister's face was almost unbearable. But at the moment it would have been horribly inappropriate to laugh. Despite that, she was able to take subtle satisfaction, she didn't need to laugh to rub it in, it was right there in there sibling's face. Hostility, envy, rejection, chagrin are flooding and mucking up her otherwise beautiful features. This was her last year eligible for the Games, the year traditionally the head child takes their accumulated skills and training and volunteers at the age of eighteen--of course, if they are not selected before that time. Kitinger had been fighting her sister for years over the spot of head child. She hadn't heard of one story that consisted of any of her ancestors challenging the oldest, the younger siblings. So as far as she knew she was the first. In her mind, the tittle of Head Child was nothing more than a position to be earned. In general, the eldest would have the greater advantage, more developed, in depended, leading the other children. What were the other children suppose to do? Kitinger saw the leader in her sister, to say the least, even as a child Kitinger recognized she would never follow the older child. For a while Kitinger was the ring leader until it became aware that was not how it worked.
Their father, the eldest child when he and his siblings where young, saw this a experiment. He did not intervene, but even encouraged they fight each other, What wonderful experience they both must gain. Kitinger heard her father admit to her mother.
And her she was, overcoming tradition that was so often the basis of their household life. To out-do the oldest child in such a degree. With such an audacious behavior of volunteering right from underneath her sister's nose. Kitinger knew that if her sister, Bristol won, Kitinger would no longer matter, so lost in the fame of her sister, her ability would never be acknowledged, she would always be compared to the older sister. And Kitinger wasn't about to start that again. She wasn't easy, showing her sister up and surpassing her, she had to fight for the right for her sister's position to be reconsidered, and just for that took thousands of hours of extra effort on her behalf. It wasn't like she was handed the right to the head child on a silver plater. Kitinger had to fight for it, and even though it might not be a fight to the death like in the Games, Kitinger could tell just by the look on her sisters face that she was in a place worse than death. Even if, hypothetically speaking since it would be impossible idea to think she could, say Kitinger die in the Games, Bristol was in a place were she can never recover her dignity without that stain forever permanent by her younger sister.
That was a proud achievement. As her father stooped down and put both of his hands on her shoulders and gave her that fierce look in the eyes, one that was passed down the generations, and explained to her the meaning of the earring.
The train was very unlike those that took workers to the Nut in District Two. It glided along the tracks at an impressive two hundred miles per hour, but at the moment it was traveling at a must slower speed, probably to compensate for the distant difference that other districts had to travel. So for Kitinger and the male tribute of District Two, an older boy named Darius, the ride would be somewhat short and easy since the district was located so close to the Capitol.
When the train started to slow, the Capitol rising out of the landscape on one side of the train. Kitinger sat transfixed before the window, taking in the marvelous sight of it all. She'd never been to the Capitol of course. None of the tributes would have, citizens were not allowed to travel to the Capitol, it was an invitation-only kind of place, even for the wealthiest of citizens. Kitinger had heard rumors of what the Capitol looked like, but in person it paramount any sort of fantasy she might have dreamt up over the years.
Soon they were in a luxurious vehicle of some kind and being transported to the Training Center were they would spend their time in the Capitol. Ushered into the prep center, she and Darius were separated as they went to engage their personal prep teams to be prepared for the parade ceremony that evening.
Magnus is starting at me again, Baron thinks eerily, his eyes narrowing on their own accord. Magnus had done his periodically through the train ride--at least in the times they had been in the same car. And despite this, Baron can't shake the feeling of his eyes, sizing him up, totally unnerving. He'd had tried starring back of course, but that had been a failure. Baron doesn't understand why the man can't open his mouth and ask him for the answers Magnus seemed to try to be extracting from his mind with brain power. Its a ridiculous idea, but nothing else explains it. Baron suddenly just wants the man to say something, to look at something else and quite looking at him. He almost bursts this out too, his mouth is hanging open and he quickly snaps it shut with a low clicking sound. The thought occurred to him that the older man might be testing him. If it was a test Baron hoped this wasn't a skill he would have to learn how to survive, being looked at to death. Whatever Magnus was doing he was seriously putting some heat into that glare. He tried to ignore it.
He still hadn't gotten over the shock of being selected as a tribute for District 4. After a quite dinner with the female tribute from the district, Sterling Sparra, and their mentor, Magnus Fairfax, along with their escort. The rest of the time he spent in his compartment. A large and luxurious thing, so different from what he was used to, with one room to himself that was the size of his entire house back in District 4. Along with all the food they were feeding him, it seemed cruel. He resented the Capitol for it. To see how carelessly they threw around food that was so coveted in the districts. Baron had taken many tesserae to feed his family, his mother and three other siblings. After his father had drowned in a terrible storm, he'd been left as the man of the family. His only sister was older than him by a year or so, but because of her ailment, she could not fully provide for the family, Baron had taken up that duty. It had been hard leaving them. His sister promising to take care of them, no matter what. Though Baron disagreed with her choice, he believed she would, she was selfless and determined--both traits she had taught him and his siblings while growing up. Baron had promised her that he would win--survive--for her, for the family. And he meant it.
The journey was long, a full day and a half in which he spent in his compartment, avoiding Sterling. He knew her from back in the district, the problem was that he liked her, she so nice and caring, he couldn't possible imagine himself responsible for her death. Baron though that if he distanced himself from her, it wouldn't be so bad later. He sits with the heels of his hands to his temples, calloused fingers twisted in his shortish copper-burgundy hair, his head bowed under the weight and stress that would triple the second they entered the Capitol.
He didn't get up and watch as the Capitol as they approached the great city. Why would he, he'd be living there for the next week or so before he was flung into the arena. Baron was hardly aware when they put him in a car and moved him and Sterling to the Training Center where he would be prepared for the Parade.
Remember: Characters from the book such as the tributes from the Games in the first book--including characters like Katniss, Peta, and Gale, do not exist.
@Aura, @HanaChan13, @Equinox, @Coedy, @Ember Bare, @ToxicCupCakez, @♥Lost_In_Paradise♥, @dististik
The original reason--she heard from her father when her passed it down to her after the reaping, though it was only a rumor--that it was more painful, that instead of the soft flesh of the lower ear, that may close up, the hard cartilage is slower and teaches patience and appreciation. Kitinger thought it was a load of bull when she heard it. She thought of this as she rubs the still irritated skin. A shiver ran down her spine. It was always the gnawing pain that hurt the worst, that nothing you could do would possibly make it better, if nothing else, worse. Kitinger pulled her fingers away to examine the thin smudge of blood left on her fingers. It was much at all. Nethertheless she was proud of the stud, it was a great honor. Smugly she smiled as she thought back to the moment her father gave it to her.
The look of contempt on her older sister's face was almost unbearable. But at the moment it would have been horribly inappropriate to laugh. Despite that, she was able to take subtle satisfaction, she didn't need to laugh to rub it in, it was right there in there sibling's face. Hostility, envy, rejection, chagrin are flooding and mucking up her otherwise beautiful features. This was her last year eligible for the Games, the year traditionally the head child takes their accumulated skills and training and volunteers at the age of eighteen--of course, if they are not selected before that time. Kitinger had been fighting her sister for years over the spot of head child. She hadn't heard of one story that consisted of any of her ancestors challenging the oldest, the younger siblings. So as far as she knew she was the first. In her mind, the tittle of Head Child was nothing more than a position to be earned. In general, the eldest would have the greater advantage, more developed, in depended, leading the other children. What were the other children suppose to do? Kitinger saw the leader in her sister, to say the least, even as a child Kitinger recognized she would never follow the older child. For a while Kitinger was the ring leader until it became aware that was not how it worked.
Their father, the eldest child when he and his siblings where young, saw this a experiment. He did not intervene, but even encouraged they fight each other, What wonderful experience they both must gain. Kitinger heard her father admit to her mother.
And her she was, overcoming tradition that was so often the basis of their household life. To out-do the oldest child in such a degree. With such an audacious behavior of volunteering right from underneath her sister's nose. Kitinger knew that if her sister, Bristol won, Kitinger would no longer matter, so lost in the fame of her sister, her ability would never be acknowledged, she would always be compared to the older sister. And Kitinger wasn't about to start that again. She wasn't easy, showing her sister up and surpassing her, she had to fight for the right for her sister's position to be reconsidered, and just for that took thousands of hours of extra effort on her behalf. It wasn't like she was handed the right to the head child on a silver plater. Kitinger had to fight for it, and even though it might not be a fight to the death like in the Games, Kitinger could tell just by the look on her sisters face that she was in a place worse than death. Even if, hypothetically speaking since it would be impossible idea to think she could, say Kitinger die in the Games, Bristol was in a place were she can never recover her dignity without that stain forever permanent by her younger sister.
That was a proud achievement. As her father stooped down and put both of his hands on her shoulders and gave her that fierce look in the eyes, one that was passed down the generations, and explained to her the meaning of the earring.
The train was very unlike those that took workers to the Nut in District Two. It glided along the tracks at an impressive two hundred miles per hour, but at the moment it was traveling at a must slower speed, probably to compensate for the distant difference that other districts had to travel. So for Kitinger and the male tribute of District Two, an older boy named Darius, the ride would be somewhat short and easy since the district was located so close to the Capitol.
When the train started to slow, the Capitol rising out of the landscape on one side of the train. Kitinger sat transfixed before the window, taking in the marvelous sight of it all. She'd never been to the Capitol of course. None of the tributes would have, citizens were not allowed to travel to the Capitol, it was an invitation-only kind of place, even for the wealthiest of citizens. Kitinger had heard rumors of what the Capitol looked like, but in person it paramount any sort of fantasy she might have dreamt up over the years.
Soon they were in a luxurious vehicle of some kind and being transported to the Training Center were they would spend their time in the Capitol. Ushered into the prep center, she and Darius were separated as they went to engage their personal prep teams to be prepared for the parade ceremony that evening.
Magnus is starting at me again, Baron thinks eerily, his eyes narrowing on their own accord. Magnus had done his periodically through the train ride--at least in the times they had been in the same car. And despite this, Baron can't shake the feeling of his eyes, sizing him up, totally unnerving. He'd had tried starring back of course, but that had been a failure. Baron doesn't understand why the man can't open his mouth and ask him for the answers Magnus seemed to try to be extracting from his mind with brain power. Its a ridiculous idea, but nothing else explains it. Baron suddenly just wants the man to say something, to look at something else and quite looking at him. He almost bursts this out too, his mouth is hanging open and he quickly snaps it shut with a low clicking sound. The thought occurred to him that the older man might be testing him. If it was a test Baron hoped this wasn't a skill he would have to learn how to survive, being looked at to death. Whatever Magnus was doing he was seriously putting some heat into that glare. He tried to ignore it.
He still hadn't gotten over the shock of being selected as a tribute for District 4. After a quite dinner with the female tribute from the district, Sterling Sparra, and their mentor, Magnus Fairfax, along with their escort. The rest of the time he spent in his compartment. A large and luxurious thing, so different from what he was used to, with one room to himself that was the size of his entire house back in District 4. Along with all the food they were feeding him, it seemed cruel. He resented the Capitol for it. To see how carelessly they threw around food that was so coveted in the districts. Baron had taken many tesserae to feed his family, his mother and three other siblings. After his father had drowned in a terrible storm, he'd been left as the man of the family. His only sister was older than him by a year or so, but because of her ailment, she could not fully provide for the family, Baron had taken up that duty. It had been hard leaving them. His sister promising to take care of them, no matter what. Though Baron disagreed with her choice, he believed she would, she was selfless and determined--both traits she had taught him and his siblings while growing up. Baron had promised her that he would win--survive--for her, for the family. And he meant it.
The journey was long, a full day and a half in which he spent in his compartment, avoiding Sterling. He knew her from back in the district, the problem was that he liked her, she so nice and caring, he couldn't possible imagine himself responsible for her death. Baron though that if he distanced himself from her, it wouldn't be so bad later. He sits with the heels of his hands to his temples, calloused fingers twisted in his shortish copper-burgundy hair, his head bowed under the weight and stress that would triple the second they entered the Capitol.
He didn't get up and watch as the Capitol as they approached the great city. Why would he, he'd be living there for the next week or so before he was flung into the arena. Baron was hardly aware when they put him in a car and moved him and Sterling to the Training Center where he would be prepared for the Parade.