Being Oddly Accepting Of The Fact I'm Going To Die
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Being Oddly Accepting Of The Fact I'm Going To Die
Reaping Day.
The day that has scared us ever since we turned twelve.
And yet five years later I feel... well, nothing really.
My name's only been entered 10 times. There's no chance it'll be drawn.
At least, that's what I tell Littlewing.
But we're getting ahead of ourselves here. I'm Midnight Skye. I'm a light teal pegasus, with black hair, rainbow-colored eyes, and a cutie mark of a crescent moon the same color as those eyes. Littlewing, on the other hoof, is also a pegasus- baby pink with salmon hair and a cutie mark of a heart and a feather- but a birth defect caused her wings never to grow, so she can't fly. As a consequence, she has very brittle bones and can't run very fast. She wouldn't last five minutes in the arena.
We live in District Twelve, In the orphanage near the meadow. Every year since we became 12, we gather in the District Centre, next to the Justice Building, not knowing whether we will survive until next year, or be thrown into the Hunger Games, where we will either be dead on the Arena floor, or kill twenty-three others, and be the sole survivor.
'I promise, if your name is called, I will volunteer for you.' I say
'Swear on your life?' Littlewing mutters
'Heh. Swear on my life.' I make an 'X' motion across my chest 'Now can you do my hair? please?'
'Okay.' she pulls my hair into a high bun, then does something fiddly so it looks like a bow.
'Thanks, broseph. Now, we better get dressed.' our reaping dresses are a rarity, beautiful garments from District 8 put mistakenly on the fabric delivery train. Mine has a simple black bodice, with a skirt patterned with the constellations, whilst Littlewing's has a white bodice and a light blue skirt patterned with clouds. The bell for breakfast goes just after we put them on, but neither of us feels like eating today.
Littlewing glances my way as we file in for the reaping. I'm a year older than her, so I stand in front of her, with the other 15-year-olds.
Sassy Saddles stands on the podium, as she does every year, with the victors, Katniss, an olive green unicorn, Peeta, a sky blue pegasus, and Haymitch, a matte grey earth pony, standing to the right, with the mayor.
'Happy Hunger Games everypony!' she says with her usual verve. 'And may the odds be ever in your favour!' I think about the 10 slips of paper with my name carefully written on them in gold ink, and I turn around to face Littlewing, but she just stares at her hooves. 'But before we begin, a reminder of what the hunger games are all about!!'
Like every year, things started out with the history of the Hunger Games- how Canterlot had united the lands of Equestria two hundred years ago, after the centuries of war that had followed the assassination of The Royal Sisters and Princess Cadenza; the coronation of Princess Glimmer, Princess Sunset, And Princess Twilight; how, seventy-six years ago, the twelve districts had all rebelled against Canterlot and the Empire who ruled it; how the rebellion had been crushed, and District Thirteen destroyed; and, finally, how the Hunger Games had been established in order to remind the districts of the costs of rebellion.
While she spoke, the crystal projectors that had been set up onstage displayed various images- my "favorite" was the one with the hateful-looking rebels charging at the horrified Canterlotters, with Princess Glimmer gazing down from the clouds, tears rolling down her cheeks. Of course, the picture of the rebel rearing up, forehooves held ready to smash down on a terrified foal, was a close second.
When I'd been younger—too young for the Reaping, even—this yearly presentation had given me awful nightmares. At some point, I'd stopped feeling terrified and started getting cynical. It's not really the safest attitude to have, but I keep quiet, so no harm's done.
'Now, fillies first!' says Sassy as she trots to the mare's reaping ball. She closes her eyes and levitates one out of the ball. She trots over to the centre and clears her throat.
Please don't be me, please don't be me... I think, my heart pounding in my chest. My wings give a small flutter, a nervous habit I developed when I'm just itching to sneak into the woods and fly.
Sassy takes a deep breath, and scans the row of 12-year-olds, practically fillies, dressed in overlarge clothing and all with the same terrified expression. She glances at the slip of paper, and all I think is Please don't be me, please don't be me.
She clears her throat, and an agonizing moment of waiting is followed by;
"Midnight Skylar!"
No...
"Come on up dear, don't be shy!" she says, in that silly fake Capitol accent.
I silently shake my head as I pass Littlewing, and she gives an almost imperceptible nod.
'Any volunteers?' of course not 'Ah, well!'
"Now let's have a round of applause for our brave filly tribute!"
There's the sound of hooves clapping, but I can barely hear it. My head feels numb- how could I have been chosen? Five entries, five in a sea of hundreds... And I was chosen.
'Well, now that's done with, let's choose our colt tribute!'
Sassy's falsely bright voice snaps me back to reality,
as she grabs a name at random and reads it out.
'Nicotine!'
and I relax.
I don't know this guy.
I don't need to show any restraint.
as he walks up the stairs -you can see him trying not to cry- I take a good look at him.
grey coat, black and green mane, a cutie mark of some symbol with an 'X' in the middle, with a kind of wiry fitness, but I could probably take him if it came to that.
S-stop it. You're thinking like a Career. I blush in spite of myself.
Sassy asks for volunteers, but, as usual, there's none.
'Now, a round of applause for our colt tribute!'
There's applause- and then we're ushered into the Justice Building, and I walk automatically, and nothing matters because I'm going to die.
A Peacekeeper leads us down the hall, and to a pair of doors."You've got five minutes," They say. Nicotine exits through one, and me the other.
Inside, I am tackled by a pink blur.
"Midnight!" Littlewing yells "Oh Faust, Midnight! I'm so sorry I wanted to volunteer but you told me not to and I was so scared and it's not fair and what if you die and I'm sorry!" she says, without pausing for breath.
"Woah, woah, calm down!" I say, and get to my feet. "Sorry," mutters Littlewing "But... well, I brought you this..." she holds out a necklace, nothing at first glance, but it means more to me than life itself. Okay, now that was a bit dramatic, but you get what I'm saying. It has two feathers, one red, one dark blue, hanging from a thin silver chain. Feathers from the wings of my parents, apparently, as the necklace was hanging around my neck when I arrived at the orphanage. "They let you take one thing from your district into the arena. I thought you'd want to take this." I'm tearing up now "Oh, fuck, Littlewing..." "Shut," she tells me and grabs me in a hug. After a few minutes of hugging and crying, a Peacekeeper comes in. "Alright, time's up," they say. "Good luck..." says Littlewing, before walking away.
After I finish saying my goodbyes, I'm rushed away with the other tribute towards the train station. I'm not particularly fond of traveling in any form except flying, and the shock of being reaped isn't exactly helping.
There's a crowd at the train station to see us off, but I barely get a glimpse of anyone as the Peacekeepers herd Nicotine and me onto the train. As soon as we're on, I look out the window to see if I can catch one last glimpse of Littlewing, but I can't see her in the crowd. I wave anyway.
Then the train began to move, and District 12 starts to slide away, so I leave the window.
Sassy Saddles, as chipper as ever, shows up shortly after. She tells us that our rooms are two cars down, clearly labeled and that she's certain we'll both like to take an hour and a half to settle in and freshen up before it's time for dinner.
Me and Nicotine look at each other, and head in the direction Sassy's pointed. Sure enough, there're two rooms, both next to each other, each with a bronze cut-out on the door; one mare, one colt.
"See ya, then," Nicotine says, "Uh, yeah," I mutter. I push open the door to my room and take a couple steps inside.
It is... riddikilus. (authors note: HA! Harry Potter puns!) And so... fancy. From the heavy carpet beneath my hooves, to the thick red comforter and the innumerable pillows on the bed, it's fancier than anything I'd seen in my life.
And it's all for me. A mare that, odds are, won't live to see many more sunrises.
I guess it only made sense to make the most of it, yet I can't help but feel kinda... well, guilty. It's not really sensible, but I look at this room, and all I can see is enough money to keep the whole district fed for at least 6 months, with plenty of pie to go around. Is the frame of the mirror made of real silver? Are the curtains silk? I can't tell for sure, but I wouldn't bet against it.
I spread my wings and flutter over to the queen-sized bed. There're some comic books in a style I don't recognize; 'Manga', I think they're called. I don't know what to expect from those, and anyway, I want something long, to keep me occupied. I settle on a dystopian book called Uglies, and started reading it.
Oh, cool. this is pretty absorbing.
I'll stop when supper's ready, scout's honor.
Wait, I was never in the scouts.
Tally thought of the lesions on Shay's brain, the tiny cancers or wounds or whatever they were, that she didn't even know she had. They were in there somewhere, changing her friend's thoughts, warping her feelings, gnawing at the roots of who she was. Making her forgive Tally. "Thanks, Shay. But no, it doesn't-"
Tally's monologue was interrupted by a series of sharp knocks on the door. "Midnight!" a musical voice that I recognised as Sassy Saddles trilled. "Supper's ready!" I rolled my eyes.
"Coming!" I called and jumped off the bed. After a moment's hesitation, I tucked the book under my wing. I'm going to die, so to shit with it. I pushed open the metal door, only to be blinded by a flash of sunlight pouring through the window. Shielding my eyes with my other wing, I set off to the dining car.
My eyes flick across the table. Nicotine is already there, along with Katniss, Peeta, Sassy, and a few ponies I don't recognize.
Shifting the book under my wing slightly, I trot over to the table. I am greeted with a discerning "Mmm." from Nicotine, and a cheery wave from Sassy Saddles.
"Anypony know where Haymitch is?" Peeta asks
"Check the bar, he's probably getting wasted." Katniss rolls her eyes.
Sassy Saddles sighs, but gets up anyway, and heads off to the bar. A unicorn levitates a plate of sushi towards me in a chartreuse aura. I thank them, get Uglies out, and start to read it.
Soon enough, Sassy comes back in, leading a hungover Haymitch. He slumps down in his chair and yells at one of the- Servants? Assistants?- To get him some liquor. I sigh and turn my attention back to my book. After a few paragraphs, I am vaguely aware of Sassy chastising me, presumably for reading at the table. I put down my book, and say "If I'm gonna die, table manners can be overlooked." I return to Uglies, and I swear I can hear Katniss mutter "I like this kid..."
A little while later, Sassy suggests we watch the videos of the Reapings. I'm up for it, and so is Nicotine. Haymitch is too drunk to care, Peeta doesn't seem too adverse, And Katniss... I'm not sure where she stands, but she isn't against it.
Some tributes stick out from the commentators' droning. Colour Wash from District Two, a pink Earth Pony mare with a blue mane, and a scar over one eye. Starflight from Eleven, a dark gray half-Unicorn-half-Zebra filly with a floppy, white-and-purple emo mane. Starblaze Fireheart from Four , a Pegasus mare with an orange coat and yellow patches over her hooves and muzzle, with black and orange hair draping elegantly over her face. Blazin' from Seven, a Pegasus stallion with a gold coat and flame-colored hair who looks like he could rip my head off single-hooved- I make a mental note to stay far away from him. And Starstruck Sakura, an Earth Pony filly from Nine with a lilac coat, and a long, deep purple mane. She barely looks eleven, Her face pale, her legs shaking. And yet nopony volunteers. Not one motherfucking pony.
God, I hate equinity sometimes.
