Revelations; D2 Reaping

Loki's POV

"Loki !" My little fighter you look so handsome!" Says Terra my eldest sister pinching my cheeks.

"Lolo remember when you used to wear mom's overalls to school? All you need is those to complete the look!" Sharon my middle sister says.

"Loki, you look like Daddy in one of his pictures taken on reaping day." Harley says chewing on her gum hard and squashing me in a bear hug.

"Guys, I appreciate the effort to cheer Loki up, but let's not go over the top." Mom says from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mommy." My sisters say in unison.

They really were milking it because I'm pretty sure that grey work shirts holey jeans, off white sweatshirts and huge white running shoes weren't attributes of a handsome person

I suppose I'm rather like my sisters in spirit but then again, rather not in appearance. My shoulder length black dreadlocks and dark farmers tan in contrast to my pale chest are nothing compared to Sharon's silky black hair and smooth olive skin. And my large, rather hairy hands compared to Terra's long spiderlike clean fingers.

I suppose my sisters look like Dad... The one who left or family. And I suppose I look like mum, who has the same large proportions and the same clumsy, broad facial features

Mom said she loved dad, because he made her feel beautiful and only looked at her. I can't forgive him for knocking up another poor woman and getting all cozy with her, and deserting his other family not to mention that this created a very bad ending for everyone.

Whatever, I guess everything has to be either look past or ignored in my family.

Maybe, that's why I'm so passive. Or not...

"What's for breakfast mom?" I ask innocently licking my lips. My sweet tooth needed some satisfaction.

"Pancake, maple syrup and toast and eggs." Mom recites.

Now, breakfast doesn't sound like much, but believe me if you saw the mountain of food that our family consumed you'd have an aneurysm.

I guess miners have big appetites.

Velika's POV

I pull my thick, glossy chocolate coloured hair over my shoulder. I realize that today, it's particularly wavy and it creates a dazzling look with my almond shaped violet/blue eyes.

Sitting at my desk and beautifying myself for the reaping brings back memories; Mom dressing me up for my first ever reaping, reading a book called " Tom Sawyer" and brushing my hair when I was fourteen, last year when I was sixteen, sitting at my dresser trying to make my eyes a less vibrant shade of purple.

I am beautiful, and for this reason I give a small frown, being beautiful is a burden. When people fawn over me because of my looks or use excessive politeness make me feel... as if I'm attracting too much attention. I hate the catcalls, the cheesy pickup lines, only nice words being said because of my appearance, but the bad thing is I'm used to it. I appreciate my looks and take time to make sure they're maintained, but that doesn't mean that I should be admired so.

I pick a neat pleated white skirt, white ankle boots and a ironed violet blouse. I take pride in myself, not my looks, which is why I pick suitable clothes rather than hide myself under overlarge clothing.

Someone knocks on my door.

"Come in." I say emotionlessly.

I hear the door hinges squeak open.

"You look beautiful Velika." Daddy says kissing my forehead.

"My baby's all grown up." Mom says kneeling and giving me a large whole-hearted hug.

My parents, Armando and Charlene Majour, are the kindest people probably on this known planet.

My mom has the same beautiful ivory skin and elegant cone structure as I, complete with my perfect figure.

My dad is also beautiful, Wavy jet black hair, the same hypnotic eyes that change from blue to lavender to purple, and long toned legs.

I realize it's weird to say these things about my parents, but it's very true. The Majestic Majour's had a daughter of equal flawless beauty. Mom and Dad, are as close to perfect people as anyone can see.

"Come, Vela." Mom says ushering me out of my seat and downstairs to the kitchen.

I suppose they are both sad and proud of me, sad because I'm already self dependant and logical and proud because of what a good person I turned out to be.

I wouldn't describe my personality as cold per se, but like a flowing creek; I'm never really anchored to one spot but time after time I could stay put.

"Dude tell me this isn't true, is that Velika Majour and her parents?" A punk looking guy says whispering to his other friend.

"Yeah." Punk guy's friend replies.

"The rumors are true, she's hotter than hell. The mom is hot too." Punk guy says whistling softly and raking his perverted little eyes over my body.

"Excuse me." I say leaving my parents.

I approach punk guy and lean on the wall next to him.

"Hey, babe, 'wanna do it with me after the reaping?" he asks trying to sound suggestive.

I give the situation a mental analysis, the punk seems self conscious and trying to fit in with his friend, and if I blow him off he'll stop bothering me.

I smile sweetly at him, smack him across his cheek and walk away quietly.

In the seventeen year old girl section are two of my only friends Tina Santorini and Lainie Cane.

"Hi, Velika!" Tina says with a huge smile on her face.

"You look so pretty Vela!" Lainie exclaims.

"You guys clean up pretty well too." I say smirking a bit.

Tina is wearing a light cerulean blue blouse tucked into a ruffled black skirt and mary janes. The light blue accents her light brown ringlets and milky white/blue of her skin. It give the illusion that she is years younger than she actually is; unlike normal.

Lainie is wearing a bright yellow cocktail dress which contrasts with her smooth dark skin and short straight hair and tall, brown leather boots.

I would say the contrast between small mousey Tina and Amazonian exotic beauty Lainie is rather like between an elephant and an impala.

"Did you guys hear who the new mentor is?" Lainie says playing with the hem of her dress.

"Who, Lain?" Tina says.

"Dexter Mann, you know the weird guy who won three years ago?" Lainie says.

"Oh, too bad." I say staring into space.

I always remember Dexter smiling at everyone and stuffing his face with candy and meat at the Thanksgiving dinner at school. But then when we at lunch, I observed that he didn't eat a smidge. Weird alright...

"Yeah." Tina agrees sadly.

Even though I've known Tina and Lainie for a very long time, I wouldn't that the three of us were best friends. Even though our friendly banter is up to par, I know I don't click with them. Maybe Lainie and Tina are best buds but I feel as if they're just so friends. It's like the same with everyone else though; they're friendly, curt or just so.

"Ya know, I think he liked Velika." Lainie says stroking her chin in 'deep thought'.

"Probably, 'cause Vela's such a sweet, kind girl." Tina says smiling at me

"Bye guys." I say, wanting to get out of this conversation quickly.

I realize the reaping will start soon, and I don't like to miss the first few words, which are spoken by escort Solaria Chardonnay, I find she's very sincere actually despite her neon appearance. Orange spiky hair streaked a violent shade of turquoise, almost scarlet eyes, very small very low pants and too tight blazers with camisoles.

And you know, I hate hearing about the billons of guys who claims to love me.

"Hello, District 2. It is a pleasure to be here to be here to serve as escort for the District 2 tribute once again." Solaria says into the mic trying to silence the rambunctious crowd.

I smile; I can tell that the woman is being serious, much like me who mostly omits the truth.

I look up at the sky, feeling small rain drops on my shoulders. The stormy grey of the clouds are engulfing the sky slowly. I wait for the rain which I suppose will soon downpour, surprisingly it does not.

I know I hate the rain but today I detest it, especially since they call my name.

Rain really ! Of all the other horrible things that should of could happen on a gloomy day like today, rain seems as if it is making the mood even more depressing. Usually I never cared about the Hunger Games, and usually turned my cheek to the tributes but the rain made it strangely enough different.

The female tribute, Velika I think, was so beautiful. I think, much more beautiful than those fake looking people from the Capitol. Glossy hair, long skinny limbs, gorgeous hypnotic eyes, unlike myself with my clumsy and not elegant features.

I feel, oddly rather protective of her, like I don't want a single hair harmed on her body. Sharon always did say I had issues with chivalry and damsels in distress; I always wanted to be the handsome, dashing White Knight. And also, like Terra says, it's unrealistic. And also and Harley puts it, " Stick to the Knight's code, don't upset your brethren!"

Then I do suppose it's better to bash up a passive, ugly looking monster of a guy, rather than a confident, gorgeous model like woman.

Solaria turns the boys reaping ball, slowly, painfully and carefully.

After the positively agonizing wait, she reads the tribute, "Sampson Harris."

Poor guy, I think automatically. He might never come home, live his live, and learn to love or even have the experience of the family.

"I VOLUNTEER." I say as my left hand rockets into the air.

But I realize that's not what he wants, but what I Loki want as a person.

Just imagine, A gorgeous Victor's Villa in the mountains, being surrounded my mom, my sisters, my loving wife and a billion little Lokis' running all over the place. It's what I want, for the money, for the fame, for the pride of saying I won the games.

I make a mad dash for the stage, wanting to get there faster than my stocky legs could carry me.

I get up on that stage, shake Solaria's hand, shake my mentor's hand and then shyly shake Velika's perfectly sculpted hand.

I will win, for my friends, for my family, and for my future!

Wow, I think I made the Lokster a bit over the top. Eh. R&R.

Fly On,

Connie