District 10 Reaping

to make sure you're not hurt again

i swear i'd give my life for you

Today was just another day for Ambrosia Asher--get up at the crack of dawn, feed the cattle and chickens, get Cite ready for the day. It was just a normal weekend to her, and the reaping only seemed to get in her way of working. She knew that there were thousands of names in the bowl, so her chances were very slim. She was one of the only girls who didn’t really seem bothered or haunted by this day. As long as she didn’t get reaped, and she wouldn’t, everything would be perfectly fine. She would keep her head low as she normally did, pretend to listen to whatever the escort was saying, and be on her merry way. Most of the time she didn’t know who the tributes were or have briefly heard their name when she was in school, so it never affected her. She was glad that Cite was only ten years old, and though he would be entered in a couple of years, she knew he would be safe this year. She figured she would worry in two more years, so she didn’t put any effort into it now.

The redhead got changed into a grey-blue dress and a pair of nice shoes. Dressing nice wasn’t her forte, and this was the only nice dress she had. She only wore it once a year, so it was an exclusive reaping dress. She never dressed to impress anybody, and most of her clothes contained worn plaid shirts and jeans with holes in them. She hadn’t bought clothes for herself in over two years, as she didn’t see a point in new things unless it was so worn to the point that it was impossible to use it. The Asher’s didn’t have the money for new clothes anyways, as they spend almost all of their money on food. The rest of the coin went to upkeep for the animals, so it was a rare occasion that Ambrosia bought anything for herself. She also wore a pair of flat black shoes that belonged to her mother when she was a teenager to wear to the reaping, and those were the only nice shoes that she had as well. Combat boots were the only shoes she really cared about, and the black flats were uncomfortable on her feet.

She didn’t have any possessions that she wanted to take with her, as she didn’t have any jewelry or trinkets. She had given her only bracelet to her brother, and it was a simple golden band that her father had given her when her mother died. When Cite and Ambrosia’s father died, she had given the trinket to him. It was just something she felt she should do, and she has never regretted the decision.

Ambrosia saw cite dressed in a jacket and nice pants, and she took his hand. Looking down at him, she gave him a smile. ”There’s nothin’ to worry ‘bout, I promise,” she said nodding to him and trying to reassure him that nothing bad would happen to her. The two of them walked down the gravel path to the town, where gravel turned to dirt and dirt turned into cobblestone. It obviously wasn’t the nicest district, but it was home. There were only a couple buildings in the town, one being the Justice Building and the others being the Peacekeeper Headquarters and a butcher shop. The District had a lot of factories to the east where they would process the meat, but to the west where Ambrosia lived, there was only farmland and barns. The town was really the only place where a group of people would get together since the District was pretty spread out.

The redhead told her brother to wait in the crowd at the exact same spot she told him to wait for the past three years. After everything had happened, she was retrieve him and they would grab some bread and head back to the farm. It was simple enough for the both of them. Ambrosia stood in line, waiting for her finger to be pricked. Today was a more glum day than usual, as most people hung their heads lower than they did every other day. There was no need for her to do that though, because she was almost sure that she wouldn’t be reaped. Once she got her finger pricked, she walked over to the line of seventeen year old girls. Most girls in the District had dark hair and tan skin from being outside all of the time, so it was pretty easy for Ambrosia to stand out with her orange hair and pale skin. It was a humid day outside despite the clouds covering the sun, and her forehead already started to place beads of sweat. She wiped it, and once everyone was rounded up, she watched the stage.

A woman, who was obviously from the Capitol, walked into the square and started talking. The woman probably hated the children in front of her as much as they hated her. She was so obnoxious looking and probably thought she was better than everyone. At least that’s what most Capitolites thought of them, as she has had experience with seeing the Peacekeeper’s personalities. Turning her head slightly while the woman talked, she also saw an abundance of Peacekeepers that stood around the tributes so none of the could escape. Sometimes people did, and it was ridiculous. There was no use trying to run away from the men in white or from the Hunger Games. If your name was called and nobody volunteered for you, you are to either walk into the allyway willingly or be dragged by Peacekeepers. Most people chose the first, because if you choose the latter, there would be a really good chance that nobody would want to sponsor you and you would die in the bloodbath. It happened several times before. There was only one victor of District 10, and they had died fifteen years ago. Most people in the District didn’t have any hope, but Ambrosia did. It wasn’t a stupid hope for world peace or for the ending of starvation. No, it was hope for her brother to make it to adulthood. Many children in the livestock district didn’t make it past their teenage years because of the poor hygiene the district had, the dirty water, and the lack of any medical professional. District 10 seemed to be running on their own without any help from the Capitol. Nobody gave a damn about them. They were just there to make meat and provide it and get whipped if they didn’t.

The video started up, and it was the same one she had seen for several years. It had been pointless in her opinion--everyone already knew what happened before the Dark Days and how Panem couldn’t survive without the Capitol’s help, especially when that’s all they taught in school. Ambrosia was smart enough to know that was a bunch of bullshit, but she was also smart enough to know not to say anything. She made eye contact with Cite and gave him a little smile, indicating that it was almost over. Once the video ended, all the escort would need to do is call the names of the victims and then everything would be back to normal--or as normal as it got in District 10. ”Ladies first,” the escort said. Ambrosia didn’t hold her breath. 7 in 1,000 names were hers, so she knew that the odds weren’t in her favor. Relaxed as one could get at the reaping, she watched the woman’s hand go into the reaping ball where the folded names were. She tapped her foot, not because she was anxious to know who it was, but because she impatiently waited for the woman to hurry up. Ambrosia figured that the woman didn’t know that everyone needed to get back to work, as there were animals that needed tending to and meat that needed to be processed.

Most of the people in 10 didn’t even watch the Games even though they were suppose to. Working was always a priority to the people of the livestock district. Working was the only way to get coin, and coin meant food. Working was also the only way to not get in trouble, as if one didn’t work, they would be suspected of stealing or committing a crime. Most ended up dying one way or another--either from starvation or from an unnoticable death. She figured the Peacekeepers took them out of their misery before they start causing trouble even though most didn’t have the energy to do that. Ambrosia wondered if the escort even worked or found it amusing that she was an escort. Probably the latter, she believed. The escorts, as far as she knew, always wore the newest clothes and was friends with everyone--except the tributes, of course. She had caught a glimpse of the escorts attending parties on television that she could care less about. This woman’s duty was to make a tribute look good, and to her, that seemed a lot easier than trying to kill a baby cow in front of its family or killing people in the games. Ambrosia figured that the escort didn’t know how much she had it made for her. She was probably never hungry and never sad. She didn’t feel mad at her nor jealous, as she would much rather work for what she had than have it as easy as the ridiculous looking lady who probably had a lower IQ than the inbreds in District 10.

made by remi of isc
inspired by abby's template

to make sure you're not hurt again

i swear i'd give my life for you

At first, she heard a muffle of the name. Ambrosia really didn’t think anything of it since she was almost completely sure it wasn’t her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and waited for the girl to go on stage so Ambrosia can go get Cite. But she had examined the eyes around her, seeing that they were all looking at her. The voice was muffled, yes, but was she really the one to be called? No, it couldn’t be. Maybe she had something on her face or someone had placed something in her hair.

But she knew better. She wasn’t stupid.

She looked at Cite from far away, and she saw the little boy who had grown up with her start to cry. No, she thought. No, I can’t go! But nothing came out of her mouth. She had tried to stay strong, yes, but silent tears were streaming down her face. She couldn’t have been picked--the odds weren’t in her favor in the very least. But it was funny, how odds worked. Someone could have probably put their name in a hundred times and it still would have been someone who put their name in once. But why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be the girl who needed to protect a child? She knew that once she would let Cite out of her grasp that the Peacekeepers would take him away from her and to the orphanage. But why her? She was such a smart girl, but she couldn’t understand why she had been picked out of everyone.

Swallowing her cries, she looked around at the people who had already made a path for her towards the center. Ambrosia, with her orange hair and red cheeks, had stepped out into the open, no longer being able to keep her head down. No, now she had to wake up and be in the spotlight of it all. But she didn’t want to. All she wanted to do was go home and tend to the animals and ride her horse in the silence of the outside. All she wanted was silence, but her mind was racing was thoughts and possibilities. She had been picked when there were so many other girls that could have easily been chosen other than her. But she was the one who was chosen--she was the one who had protected and failed. She had failed her little brother, and now, she would have to face 24 other children who would kill or be killed, and most of the time, it would be both.

Walking along the cobblestone, she wiped the tears. She had to be strong. Lifting her head up, she forced herself to stop crying. Crying was for those who needed to be pitied, and Ambrosia was not one that was wanting pity. She wanted respect, and that was what she wanted all of her life. So she kept her head held high and looked the escort in the eye. She wasn’t afraid of the Games nor was she afraid of her. The only thing she could hear were the muffled cries of her brother and the quiet steps she took on the cobblestone, but it wasn’t the silence she wanted. She wanted the breeze flowing through the tall grass and her ambrosia-colored hair as she rode her dark horse past the gates of District 10, not giving a damn in the world. Everything she wanted was slowly fading around her--her future, her past, and everything she was. It wouldn’t matter who or what she was when she was dead. She knew that everyone’s just stories in the end, but she didn’t want to end her story at only seventeen years old. It was Ambrosia’s duty to protect the child and keep him safe. If she died, none of that would matter and everything she had worked for would fail. No, the only thing she had to do now was live. There was no other choice. It was living and protecting Cite or dying and he would get the blunt end of the stick in the orphanage for the next eight years with everyone around him dead and gone.

She walked up the steps and onto the platform without saying a word. She examined the faces in the crowd with an emotionless glance. Most of them felt the same way she did before she was called--they all wanted to go home and get their jobs done. If only she could do that and tell Cite that everything was going to be okay. She wasn’t a liar though. Nothing was going to be okay unless she could come back from it all. The girl who protected needed to stand tall for everyone else who couldn’t. She needed to protect her brother even when she could not. Dying was not an option for her now, and staying strong was the only thing she could do to stay alive.

made by remi of isc
inspired by abby's template