Rhiannon Avila's Story

Rhiannon gazed at her reflection in the mirror, a look of blankness on her delicate face. Today was the day of the reaping, a day that Rhiannon began to dread every time it came near. The thought of it sent chills down her spine and made the hairs on her neck stand up.
Rhiannon grew up in a career district, meaning that she had been training almost her whole life in the event that she may be picked on this day. She knew how to throw knives with perfect aim, and she could throw some impressive punches and kicks as well. She was good with using a dagger and she could move fast and stealthily, she was taught to be agile. But knowing that she had the skills to take down the other tributes didn't take away from the nerves at all, rather, the thought made her sick. She didn't want to be forced to kill other people to save herself, even if she knew she could.
Standing in front of her mirror, dressed in her best - a beautiful white silk dress that was held together by small, intricate brass buttons - and her waist length, sandy blond hair held back in a single braid, she was ready to go, and knew her two brothers and her father were probably waiting anxiously for her. It just seemed as though she couldn't bring herself to leave her room, possibly for the last time, and go downstairs where her family would immediately get up and say it was time to go. A troubled look crept onto her face, creasing her forehead. Downstairs she could hear her father ordering one of her older brothers to go fetch her and bring her downstairs so that they could 'just get this over with'. Her oldest brother, Demarris, said that she probably just needed a little more time, and they weren't late anyways, but her fathers tone was growing impatient, so her brother gave in. Just as she heard his feet start up the staircase, she creaked open her door and emerged from her room. Neither of them said anything, but a look of understanding passed between them and Rhiannon gave a small nod of her head. Demarris nodded back and they both went down the stairs together. He reached over for his sisters hand and squeezed it encouragingly. Unlike Rhiannon, Demarris was out of the age range that they drew from while selecting tributes, but he knew how nerve wracking the whole process was and hoped to be of some support to his sister. They reached the bottom step, where fifteen year old Tremayne was sitting. He, along with his sister, had a chance of being reaped this year, and he appeared quite anxious about it as he twisted his hands in his lap.
"Well, look who decided to show up." their dad scoffed, pushing back his chair at the kitchen table and getting to his feet. Rhiannon exchanged a look with her brothers, and Tremayne slowly stood from the stair he was sitting on. Demarris put a hand over his younger brothers shoulder and pulled both his siblings close, "I guess we should get going." he said softly, for the lack of anything better to say. He had went through years of this before, and he knew there wasn't much one could say, not in a situation like this.

They arrived at the busy town square as a family, Rhiannon, Tremayne, and Demarris walking hand in hand, their father in front of them, travelling in a stiff, but quick stride. When it was time to split up, the siblings all hugged each other and kissed one another on the cheeks, not even bothering to try and make up words of support. Then Rhiannon and Tremayne went to stand with their age groups while Demarris and their father stood with the other families who were just hoping anyone but their loved ones would be picked.
As Rhiannon took her place in the crowd with the other fourteen year-old girls, the district four escort took her place behind the microphone at center stage. She made her typical, dreadful speech, then patted her cotton candy blue wig with extreme care before continuing. "And now it's that time, where we will pick and announce to you the brave tributes who will represent district four in the fifty-first annual Hunger Games. As always... we'll do the ladies first." she smiled big as she dramatically let her hand hover above the glass bowl. Then, in one quick motion, she shot her hand inside, selecting a slip of paper. She lifted it out, slowly, and unfolded it, slowly. She slowly opened her mouth, and the name seemed to leave her lips in slow motion as well.
"Rhiannon Avila."
Rhiannon felt her throat close, and all of a sudden it felt very hard to breathe. She slowly lifted up her head, as if it weighed a thousand times more. At the same time, she felt so dizzy, like she was moments away from losing conciousness.
"Rhiannon? Come on now, darling, don't be afraid." Throughout the crowd, curious eyes darted around as they tried to catch a glimpse of the unfortunate girl whose name had been picked. It was when she took her first shaky step in the direction of the stage that people realized who their female tribute was. It was the girl who never really liked to take part in the carer training and tried to avoid it as often as possible. Her, of all people, had been chosen. There was some whispers throughout the audience as a path was made for her. She kept walking, slowly, keeping her head up as she walked past some gawking people. The only person who she made eye contact with during her walk towards the stage was when she passed Tremayne. He was watching her, a look of uneasiness stuck on his face. When she saw him, her face grew even more troubled and a short, shaky cry escaped her but she bit her lip and willed herself to keep it together. She carefully went up the stairs and walked to the center.
"There you are, Rhiannon." the woman said in a sickly sweet voice. "You must be so proud and honored to have this opportunity to represent your district." Rhiannon didn't respond to her, just stared out at the sea of faces, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. She did everything she could to stay standing and not pass out, while the escort went to draw the name of the male tribute.

Rhiannon sat all alone on a bench next to a large window on the district four train car. She stared intently out at her passing surroundings and gripped the armrests of the bench so tight that her knuckles lost their color. She swayed slightly in her seat, feeling seconds away from fainting. This made her hold onto the armrests even tighter as she took deep, slow breaths. Left alone with her thoughts, she went over the days events in her head. One thing that she couldn't stop dwelling on was the fact that she never got to say goodbye to her family. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window, as a single tear slipped down her cheek. She had hoped that she at least would get to say a final goodbye to her brothers. She realized now that she'd likely never see them, ever again. She knew it, she was going to die, the hunger games would be the death of her, as it was to any others. What made her different? Actually, she knew what did. She had been trained her whole life for this. She was raised to triumph in these games. She was literally born ready... But her hands weren't made to kill. She didn't want to kill anyone... But she didn't want to be killed either. None of them did. She didn't know what to do... She had been put in a situation where it seemed death was the only option.
She opened her eyes and took a deep shaky breath, looking around for the other district four tribute. She hardly saw him because right after his name was picked, they were taken by different groups of peacekeepers and forced into separate rooms while waiting for the train. Anyways, he was nowhere to be seen, so she rested her head back on he window and eventually drifted off into a dream-filled sleep.

(Wishin I had a fellow discredit four tribute to rp with... :()