tragedy’s unfolding · Y/n story by @arieixx

The air in the town square is thick with coal dust and dread. It’s Reaping Day. The sky is a flat, oppressive gray, the same color as the worn stones underfoot and the exhausted faces of the crowd. Peacekeepers in pristine white uniforms line the perimeter, their helmets gleaming dully under the overcast sky.

Mayor Undersee

clearing his throat into the microphone, his voice echoing tinny and hollow Welcome. Welcome. As per the Treaty of Treason, we offer up one male and one female tribute between the ages of twelve and eighteen to participate in the Hunger Games.

Effie Trinket, in a shockingly pink wig and a dress the color of poisoned candy, bounces to the microphone. Her Capitol accent grates against the silent square.

Effie Trinket

Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor! beams Ladies first!

Her manicured hand dips into the glass bowl, the slips of paper rustling like dry leaves. The sound is the only one in the square. She unfolds one, holds it up to the light.

Effie Trinket

Sabreenah Stein!

There’s a collective, sucked-in breath. A few heads turn. In the fifteen-year-old section, Sabreenah doesn’t move. Her expression doesn’t change. She simply closes her eyes for one beat, two, as if memorizing the feel of District 12’s air in her lungs. Then she steps forward.