"Dahlia Blossom. Don't let the name fool you. She's better known as the Black Dahlia. And she didn't earn that nickname by smiling and looking pretty."
"She sure knows how to perform for the camera."
"Because she knows how to play the game. She alwa...
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"I volunteer as tribute."
Her voice echoes across the crowd with a strength Dahlia never felt she could have. A thousand whispering thoughts were racing around her head like a tornado, but one was louder than all the others. I won't let them take my sister.
"We have a volunteer." Magenta announces excitedly, clapping his hands together as Dahlia emerges. Her Games have just begun. She knows she must play along if she wants to make it home alive. She can't let them see how afraid she is, instead she must become someone others will fear. Shoulders back and chin raised high, she strides towards the Peacekeepers with no hint of terror on her face.
"Dahlia." Lavender whispers in shock as her sister walks forward confidently. Dahlia's facade nearly breaks at the girl's heartbroken face as Lavender tries to grab her hand. "No! Dahlia!" She screeches out as she is dragged away by a peacekeeper. Lavender fights and struggles in the soldier's arms but she is no match for him. Dahlia remains determined, blocking out her sister's screams and pursing her lips to halt her tears.
Alaric sits up in interest. In all his years, he had never seen a District Five tribute look as menacing as a Career. But here was a girl to prove him wrong. She marched up the steps of the stage like she was already the winner and stood assertively in front of the crowd. Not to mention the dark shade of her dress and hair made her stand out among her peers. Like Death herself had ascended to the stage.
"Now, my dear, what's your name?" Magenta asks as Dahlia stares out at the crowd with an impassive face. She spots her mother and sisters huddling together at the back and has to quickly avert her eyes. There would be time for tears when her face wasn't being broadcast to all her competitors.
"Dahlia Blossom." She replies calmly, despite feeling like she had just placed her neck in the hangman's noose.
"Oh, how noble. Volunteering for a sister. Wonderful." Magenta proclaims as if it was an honour for Dahlia to volunteer to die. He tries to encourage the crowd to cheer by clapping his hands very loudly into the microphone. His audience is less than enthusiastic to comply. "Right, well... Moving swiftly on to the boys." Dahlia stares straight ahead, not turning to watch as Magenta swishes the names around with a grin on his face. Her stomach sinks with the realisation of what she's done and it takes all of her strength not to throw up this morning's meal on the front row. She has to remind herself that the Capitol and the other tributes will watch the Reapings closely. She must hold her nerve and make an impression. "Wyatt Armstrong."
The crowd parts like a wave to reveal a boy, older than Dahlia, with neatly combed brown hair and a horrified expression. He definitely needed a lesson in masking his emotions as he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve. Wyatt Armstrong's feet refused to move, as if his shoes were glued to the ground. Dahlia could see his trembling form even from the stage as one of the boys standing next to him nudged him forward. Slowly he drags his feet along the gravel, glancing around hoping that someone might volunteer for him as Dahlia had done for Lavender. But no one can bring themselves to meet his eyes.
