Mad World (Cess and Lyssy Open)

[Elletnah™ The JabberJay]

Achlys Trifon 

District Nine
Tribute

Her parents didn't come, of course they didn't come. She actually doubted the peacekeepers had let them through seeing as she had not wanted to see them again anyway. The children from the home came though, only small groups at a time but they came, the woman in charge came last and gave Achlys a token, because she knew she her parents would have never given her one. It was a simple cobra knot bracelet wound with purples and blues, her favorite colors, the children had made it, each one taking turns while they waited, wanting to give her something for her giving them so much. She tied it loosely around Achlys's wrist and told her she could tie it tighter during the games, she didn't want the remake teams to cut it off and she never get it back in time for it to make a difference. She then pulled her into a tight hug when the peacekeepers reentered to escort her out, "I'll see you when you come home." She said tears in her eyes.
Not long after her tearful good byes Achlys was ushered out of the overly decorated room and into a motorized vehicular that was far too exposed for her taste. Thank fully the escort was sandwhiched between the tributes so Lyssy didn't have to look at the dark haired boy, she just stared out the window and watched the blurred faces pass by. At the station the trio climbed out and onto the station platform where she finally looked up to get one last look at her home, her district before it disappeared behind the line of trees. 
Achlys took a lone seat by the window and folded her hands neatly in her lap staring at the jagged edge of one of her thumbnails. The thought of filing it crossed her mind but quickly passed as she remembered in a days time a remake team would do it for her so she just sat there picking at her already chipped grey nail polish. She resolutely refused to look up at the blithering idiot of a person that was their escort and the more she thought about it the angrier she got until finally she blurted out. "We don't care about the crystal chandeliers in every room!" she said angrily looking the man in the eye for the first time, "Would you just, please, shut. Up." She asked clenching her fists in her lap.
The man huffed and stalked out of the room leaving the two tributes alone for the first time and Achlys immediately regretted her outburst.

Raised for the Slaughter

[Brave]

CESIL TAPROSE
District Nine
TRIBUTE

Cesil was in a foul mood, to say the least. It honestly just wasn't fair, not in the slightest. To be reaped once was bad enough, but twice? That was just plain rude. To Cesil it had always seemed like there was some outside force that loved making his life an absolute mess, but now he was completely positive. He had always had to struggle to stand on his own two feet, always had to carry around not only his own weight but that of others. And every single time life had knocked him flat on his ass. Well, Not. This. Time. He was absolutely done, completely finished. He would never be knocked down again, he would show everyone and everything that he was Cesil Taprose damn it, and he had been messed with one too many times. He was not afraid anymore, he had no reason to be. He had already lost everything he had to lose, anything else that managed to slip through his fingers now would just be casualties. Of course, there were a few things he was desperate not to leave behind, the most prominent being Mariah. If Cesil loved anything, it was his niece and he had experienced a sickening feeling not far from when he had said goodbye to Amira as he had hugged her goodbye. Of course, she hadn’t really understood what was going on at the time, but that was just fine for Cesil. It was worse with the twins, who cried harder than he had ever seen as he told them goodbye. Bidding farewell to Onyx was calmer, but darker and left Cesil with an unsettled stomach after experiencing his older brothers ominous gaze. And then he was being whisked from the velvet covered room of the Justice Center and out the doors to the train station by something the escort called an "automobile", which scared the living hell out of Cesil. He had never before experienced the unpleasant lurch of such a machine, and he found himself gripping the sides of seat in a vice like grip.

They loaded him onto the train the same way he would assume they would load livestock, with fleetingly cold glances and impatient prods. The inside of the train was yet another wonder to behold for Cess, from the glistening exteriors to the piles of food. Yet he didn't spare it too long a glance, for before he knew it the train gave a lurch similar to the car and they were moving away from the only place he had ever known at speeds faster than he had ever fathomed. He couldn't stop himself as he sprung to his feet, stumbling uncertainly over to the large windows of the train. He reached out then, placing his hand on the glass of the window, allowing the cold of the extremity to spread throughout his hand as he watched his home fade away for his first and possibly last time. A large lump finally settled itself in his throat and threatened to drag him under as the escort chattered on about the capitol and it's luxuries, completely oblivious to the strife of the tributes. The escorts speech had gone on for some time, starting somewhere back at the Justice Center and continuing without pause. At first it had irritated Cesil moderately, and he had simply tuned out the annoying chatter like he would any other high pitched, over exaggerated noise. But now, as he watched the last bits of his life fade behind the lines of the trees, the last bits of her disappear for good he felt only deep and devastating anger. Involuntarily his hand dropped from the window and clenched into a fist by his side, his eyes narrowing as the imbecile of a man went on to talk about chandeliers of all things. He was seconds away from turning and really giving the man something to talk about when another voice joined the escorts, one much softer and lighter and natural compared to the freakish accent of the capitol man. The voice stopped Cesil in his tracks, froze him to the spot as his female counterpart in the oncoming games snapped at the escort, calling him out to the point where the escort simply huffed angrily and stormed from the room. Under any other circumstances Cesil might have laughed at the disheveled appearance of the escort, but this was not another circumstance so Cesil simply held his tongue.

He did relax his fists as he turned to look at the girl from the corner of his eye. It was sickening to him how much she reminded him of Amira, from the tone of her voice to her reactions to situations he had witnessed her in, they all cried so strongly of his deceased girlfriend it made angry tears pool behind Cesil's eyes. For not only had the capitol now reaped him twice, but they had reaped her alongside him, like their own personal fuck you. Oh and Cesil hated it, hated all of them. Yet above all else, he truly hated her. Why did she have to have that red hair, those green eyes? Why did she have to stand like she had, speak in the same mannerisms and even assert herself in the way he had witnessed Amira do so frequently. It wasn't just cruel, it was torture. For in the year since her death, Cesil had not once forgotten Amira Pierce nor her twin and he was confident he never would. It wasn't even like he wanted to remember her either, if anything he would love to purge ever painful memory of the redheaded huntress he had. But he couldn't, for it was like she had left him and seared herself to his heart in the process, making herself a permanent part of him. He couldn't run from her, couldn't hide anywhere, not even in his dreams. No matter where he went or what he did she always followed him. For goodness sakes, he was going to the Hunger Games and he still couldn't get away from her. So Cesil had simply given up and accepted that he would be haunted by her for the rest of his life- which would probably be very long and filled with every possible thing that could crush him like a bug if his past was anything to go by. His acceptance didn't make him hate the girl who sat at the window of the train any less though, simply allowed himself to tolerate her as he more or less threw himself down onto one of the seats that lined the wall. He propped his feet up on on of the tables then without a second thought, uncaring that it wasn't his property and that it was rude. He closed his eyes then after a moment, resting his head against the back of his seat as he attempted to close his mind off completely from anything that might bring him pain. It was a hard struggle at first as he forced his family and friends and Amira and eventually all of District 9 from his mind, but eventually he managed to reach a calm state. Now all he had to do was ignore the girl sitting across from him that looked like his dead lover and everything would be fine. "I've seen you in the woods." He spoke involuntarily and without thinking, and then promptly felt the urge to slam his head into the table in front of him. Damn it, he thought to himself, it's going to be a long Hunger Games.

[Elletnah™ The JabberJay]

Achlys Trifon 

District Nine
Tribute

Achlys glanced up at the boy as he stood at the window, he seemed tense and she wasn't intending on starting a conversation, she just want to get the entire ordeal over with and just die already. Against the other tributes she knew she had little chance, all she had going for her was that she knew what it was like to go hungry so it wouldn't bother her as much, she could hunt, that was true but it was only small animals. Never had she hunted something as large, or as intelligent as a well trained human. She had about as great a chance as a twelve year old even up against her district partner. He looked like he could snap her frail little neck with a flick of his wrist.
Achlys glanced up as he passed by to sit on the opposite wall propping his feet up and closing his eyes, she looked around at the oppulent room and the plates of food then looked down embarassed when she stomach started to grumble. She had started to fiddle with her bracelet when he spoke, softly almost as a second thought.
She didn't know what to say, that she had seen him too, in the woods wandering beyond the wall. And on that day, the day they came back, the day she left early after seeing their father. She didn't want to talk about them, she didn't want to talk at all, despite how crappy her treatment at home had been it was still her home, her bed, her life.
She sniffled and wiped her nose with her hand looking out the window, "Me too."
"They call me Lyssy." she nearly mumbled. They was more like the children at the orphanage, her parents either called her Girl, or Achlys, they hadn't bothered to give her a nickname growing up. It was the little ones that did because they couldn't say her name.

Raised for the Slaughter