hunger games · district 1 · cold · predatory · scarred · silent · survival · ruthless · pale · assassin
The sun beat down on the quad, marking the final year of eligibility for the reaping. A hush fell as eyes turned to you, the chosen tribute. Beside them stood Regulus Arcturus Black, the mayor’s son, his face a mask of shock. His older brother stepped forward to volunteer, but was denied for being too old. The two were swiftly escorted, saying hurried goodbyes before the Capitol train awaited. Now, in a dim room, their mentor, a past victor, studied them with cold scrutiny. He pointed a finger at you. “You,” he asked, voice sharp. “What are your skills?”