((Can I just go straight to the reaping, I don't have much to say otherwise XD))

((no, I mean, can my characters like walk to where the reapings take place?))

((-is now a capitol citizen- =P))

[[ -Is so entirely tempted to join as District 7- o.o ]]

[[ ... Okay, you convinced me! <3 hehe ]]


Name: Clayton Lowe (Clay)
Gender: Male
District: 7
Age: 17
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 130 - roughly
Appearance: Clayton is slim, but muscular. He's been learning to chop wood and work with knives and axes at the early age of 9. From having to work in the woods all day, Clay has tan, some say permanently dirty, tle="Powered by Text-Enhance" id="_GPLITA_1" style="text-decoration:underline" href="#" in_rurl="http://www.textsrv.com/click?v=VVM6OTY1NzoyMzpza2luOmQ2YmEwNjdiMmI5NzA4YzNjY2M4Y2ViMjM3Yzg1NDFjOnotMTA2My0xNTIyNjp3d3cucmVzY3JlYXR1LmNvbQ%3D%3D">skin. His hair is near black in color, cut short to his head to keep out of his hazel-green eyes when he works. 
Personality: Clayton is down-to-Earth. He always takes a situation seriously and nearly never laughs. He finds the whole Hunger Game situation barbaric, as his father did, but will never voice his opinion. He is the silent, obedient type, willing to observe his surroundings and learn from them.
History and birthplace: Clayton was born and raised in District 7. He lives with his mom, his one older brother and his one younger sister, who he would lay his life on the line for. He has taken many 
tesseraes, though he stopped counting once he hit twenty. His father was killed in an 'accident' in the forest, ironically after he started voicing his opinions about starting a war and objections upon the Games. 
Other: He has a girlfriend. :o Her name is Mandy! Though I'll only be mentioning her in a few posts.

~

Name: Patricia Gaines (Patty)
Gender: Female
District: 7
Age: 15
Height: 5' 1"
Weight: 100 even.
Appearance: Patricia is short and petite, but she does happen to have minor curves. She has olive colored skin and long, long black hair that she keeps in a tight bun. Patty has long, dark tle="Powered by Text-Enhance" id="_GPLITA_2" style="text-decoration:underline" href="#" in_rurl="http://www.textsrv.com/click?v=VVM6MTMwODU6MzU2OmV5ZWxhc2hlczphNDA5MmM4OGIxNTlkNTY2Y2Q4MTQ2ZGM2Y2Q0ZGE4Yjp6LTEwNjMtMTUyMjY6d3d3LnJlc2NyZWF0dS5jb20%3D">eyelashes that make her chocolate brown eyes pop above her freckled-covered nose and cheeks. Patricia has that face you want to trust.
Personality: Patty is very open about herself, leaving nothing unsaid. She fully supports what the Capitol does, and lets everyone know it. She doesn't fully grasp the harshness of the situation, and since her name has only been in the drawings 10 times, she doesn't have a fear in the world of her name being picked. Patty doesn't realize what she has, or how helpful it could be to her.
History and birthplace: Patricia was originally born in District 11. She has a distinct knowledge of edible plants, medicinal plants and how to climb trees. Her mom was a type of 'town-healer' and taught Patricia much of what she knows. When she was 11, her mother married a man from District 7 and they had to move. Since the transition, Patty has learned several important factors: How to build a fire, how to use trees as shelter among other things, etc. No siblings.
Other: She's never had to tle="Powered by Text-Enhance" id="_GPLITA_0" style="text-decoration:underline" href="#" in_rurl="http://www.textsrv.com/click?v=VVM6MTYzMTY6MTI3NzpzaWduIHVwOjNhMjVjNTI5Mjk0NjA4OTBmODEzMTRiZTMyY2E1NzcwOnotMTA2My0xNTIyNjp3d3cucmVzY3JlYXR1LmNvbQ%3D%3D">sign up for any Tesseraes.

has Quit this rp

[[ Whoops, I thought it went just once a year. But that makes sense. I fixed it. :3 ]]

District 7:

Clayton

I grabbed the handle of the over-used ax and gripped it in between my two calloused hands. The well-worn wood grip felt familiar in my grasp. A sigh escaped my lips as I lifted the tool above my head, aiming for nothing, landing on nothing. The ax fell through my fingers, landing on the dirt with a soft 'thud'. A sound that somehow calmed me. 

"Clay-Clay?" A small, quiet voice shattered my nearly silent world. It was my little sister, Caroline. She was only six, but that meant nothing. Her blonde hair was pushed back with a light blue ribbon tied in a bow; it probably cost me a week's worth of pay, but seeing her there was worth it. 

I walked to her, opening my arms to embrace her in a hug. "Caroline," I said, pushing a strand of her curly blonde hair back behind her shoulder. "You're not supposed to be out here... You're going to get your pretty, blue dress dirty." I forced a smile to sweep on my doubt filled face, hopefully calming the little one's doubt. 

Caroline looked down at her dirty, black shoes. They were already caked with dirt from the short walk from their house to the woods. "Come on honey," I said, picking my little sister up to my hip. "I'll take you home so you can clean those shoes." I was never very vocal to anyone, not even my brother or tle="Powered by Text-Enhance" id="_GPLITA_0" style="text-decoration:underline" href="#" in_rurl="http://www.textsrv.com/click?v=VVM6OTY1NzoyMzptb206MTc0NjM1MTJmYmVmNjU4NzkxOTRkZGFlYmViNDBkN2Y6ei0xMDYzLTE1MjI2Ond3dy5yZXNjcmVhdHUuY29t">mom. But when it came to Caroline, I would say anything to bring a smile to her face.

"Clay," Caroline started in a timid voice, digging her face into my shoulder. "I don't want you to go." Just from the sound of her voice I could tell she was close to tears. I picked up my ax and pushed it over my shoulder, careful not to get it close to my sister. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Caroline," I said to her in a strong voice, one that countered my true feelings. My name was in the drawing 21 times alone, not even counting the Tesseraes I had to put in. That meant my name was in the drawing at least 40 times, which wasn't a good sign.  "I'm going to stay here and tle="Powered by Text-Enhance" id="_GPLITA_1" style="text-decoration:underline" href="#" in_rurl="http://www.textsrv.com/click?v=VVM6MTMyMzc6NDpoZWxwOjMxZjdhMWZjZTA3YzhmMzBiNzA0MDMzZTI5MWM5Y2FiOnotMTA2My0xNTIyNjp3d3cucmVzY3JlYXR1LmNvbQ%3D%3D">help Victor and Mom take care of you." A poked her belly softly, pushing her 'tickle-spot' perfectly.

The soft giggle escaped her lips before her words did. "Are you going to take care of Pickles too?" She asked, her eyes shining expectantly. She was talking about the Squirrel that she fed everyday. It always came back to our house from the woods, so, Caroline took it as a sign that it wanted to be our pet. 

"Of course I'm going to take care of pickles too!" I said, laughing at her comment right before our house came into sight. Okay, so 'house' isn't really an appropriate word. It was more of a shack. A really wobbly shack at that. "Go get mom to clean your shoes while I get ready." I told Caroline, setting her on the ground and pushing her forwards to the door.

It didn't take long for me to get ready. I washed my body and face in record time, though it felt like a life time anyways. Every minute during reaping day felt like an hour. I walked to my bedroom, only to be shocked at the sight on my bed. It was a pair of slacks and a nice button down shirt. It had to be one of the nicest things I've ever seen. I traced my newly-cleaned hand down the soft fabric, remembering when I had seen these last. Then, the memory hit me: My father's funeral. Victor was wearing them. 

I clamored into my clothing, knowing the reaping was to happen soon. Seeing how my sister wasn't yet old enough for the drawing, it was only my life that could be taken today. I took a shaky sigh to try and call myself, though it barely helped. A knock at my door startled me, though I knew who it was. Mandy was the only one who ever knocked. 

I felt her arms wrap around my waist before I even heard her walk across the room. Maybe the fact that I could hear my heart beat covered her seemingly noiseless steps. I couldn't tell for sure. I turned my body around and embraced her in a tight hug. I could feel her delicate body shaking beneath mine. Then, her choked sobs came. I could tell she tried to hide them, but the effort was futile.

"Mandy.... Don't cry," I shushed her, attempting to stop her tears. "You're not going to be picked. You've never had to put in any tessaraes and you're lucky enough as it is." I couldn't let go, though, on account if I saw Mandy crying I wouldn't be able to make it out the door with a few tears shed of my own. 

After she stifled her sobs, Mandy lifted her head up to look at me. "It's not me I'm worried about." She said softly, her voice just above a whisper. "It's my brother... It's his first year of putting in his name and I'm so scared he'll go!" Mandy closed her eyes at the sad thought that might come. "And you..." She continued, eyes still closed, her face once again buried into my chest. "I don't know what I'll do if one of you go. I love you."

Those three words nearly tore down my emotion-stopping wall. A tear almost slipped down my face. But I held it back, as I've always been able to. "Mandy, don't say that because you think you're going to lose me." The words almost seemed harsh, but I hadn't meant them that way. I didn't love Mandy, and she didn't love me. It was just the fear of loss, the fear of loneliness that propelled her to say that. 

I pulled Mandy back to get a better look at her: She was wearing a faded pink dress, one with beaded flowers on it. She was beautiful, but a pretty dress didn't make her that way. I sighed and grabbed her hand in mine. We walked out the door in silence, her sad, tear streaked face countered my blank, almost ex
pression-less one. 

I nodded once at my mother before picked up Caroline with my free arm. It was a ritual, it seemed. For the past three years I had gone to the Reaping with Mandy at my side and Caroline on my hip. Hopefully it would be the same next year, but one never knew. 

~

Patricia 

"Oh, Patty! You look so gorgeous!" My mother practically squealed with delight. "Not that you aren't beautiful any other day," She added quickly, a guilty look in her eye. I nearly scoffed at her comment. She was always too generous with the compliments ever since she forced me to move. I was practically sick with them.

"Yes, mother." I said, my tone obviously annoyed to the max. I flicked my long, black hair out of my face, leaning in to examine my dirt-free skin, the uneven bangs I've always hated, and the row of dark freckles I have always loved. But that was just my face. There were so many other things I loved, and hated for that matter, about my body. 

I glanced down the mirror, examining every inch of myself. My short, 5 foot 1 inch self. I had practically no curves, which I deemed as both good and bad. I rubbed my soft hands together, not feeling any roughness or any callouses. Then again, if I had any of those things, I could just 'whip up' a cream to help them. It was my specialty, so to speak.

It had been only four years since I moved to District 7, yet I still had no friends. I figured since it was my loyalist affection towards the Capitol, but that was just a guess. It could have been my standoffish personality or my lack of genuine concern for my fellow man, but I couldn't pinpoint it. Maybe it was everyone else, and not me. But who knew. 

"Patricia." I heard my step-father's stern voice behind me. I shuddered under his mere presence. "We're ready to go. Are you?" His voice was as cold as he was, which was really saying something. He was the coldest man she had ever known.

"Yes, David." My voice had grown small. He frightened me more than I'd like to say. I dared to glance in the mirror, only to see his reflection glaring right back. I figured that he hated me because both his wife and child had died in labor. Maybe it was the fact he was Pro-Rebellion, a fact I have threatened to take to the Peace-Keepers many times. Of course, this always landed me a blow and a threat to my life. He always made sure I never went there, and I didn't.

I walked to the open door, my shoes squeaking on the floors as I did so. I kept my gaze down as I passed his looming body. This year, I swore to myself as I crept down the hallway, this year I would be Tribute, whether my name was called or not. If I just volunteered myself, everyone would be better off. I would be a beacon of hope in my District, and I could get away from him. 

As I shook my head of the thoughts, I placed a fake smile on my small face. "Ready, mother," I said in a sing song voice, one I used every year of the Reaping. I gripped her into a tight hug, knowing it might be the last I would get. 


[[ Patty is a fail. x3 ]]

I love Rps... Are there still places open? And could I join?

Ok... so I guess I'll take District 1. Thanks so much for letting me join, and I'll do my best!