- For the first time since it's creation, the reaping day had brought forth two female tributes from the same district: Callow Cyprisse and her outspoken acquaintance, Lucy-Gray Baird.
With a bored audience in need of some serious entertainment...
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THE GO-AHEAD.
In the dim light of dawn, the coal dust hung in the air like a heavy shroud over District Twelve. Callow felt the weight of the morning pressing down on her much harder than usual.
The air was tinged with tension as her mother put her daughter's hair into a high ponytail, her dark curls slicked back by cold bathwater. Juna spoke no words until she hoisted her daughter from the tub and told her to get into her dress.
Callow's footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as she made to stand in front of her bed, where a pale yellow dress sat ominously. She never much liked that specific dress, but with the pearly buttons on the front and the scalloped trim, it was easily her best.
Callow spent a moment stripping out of her nightgown and fastening the dress onto her body, her fingers easily sliding the material over the buttons. The reflection in the cracked mirror across from her made her frown as it forced her to stare at the fatigue etched on her face.
Fyrun walked in with silent steps as she struggled to put on her shoes, his nimble hands helping her in a matter of seconds. "Thank you." She muttered, feeling even more downcast as she realized that this could be the last moment she spent with him.
"It's gonna be alright." He said softly, brushing off his hands on the side of his pants. Callow nodded, though she wasn't so sure that it would be.
She tiptoed to the kitchen with practiced quietness, where Maverick Cyprisse was busy cooking on the stove.
The meager flame of the stove flickered to life under his skilled hands, casting a feeble glow on the chipped dishes on the counter and bringing to life a simple breakfast, a quiet ritual before the storm of the reaping.
Each bite felt heavy to Callow, but she ate without complaint and was thankful, for once, that the table was silent as well. She wasn't able to stomach a conversation.
After breakfast, Callow stood before the mirror again, fingers brushing through her ponytail to push back a few curls that had sprung loose. It was a futile attempt to appear more composed.
The minutes ticked away, and she finally took a deep breath, steeling herself, for the possibility that her name might be called.
As the Cyprisse family navigated the familiar path to the square, the dilapidated houses of District Twelve loomed over them, their bleak structures a reminder of the poverty and oppression that defined their existence.
Callow's hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, a subconscious movement to dispel the nervous energy coursing through her veins. She couldn't shake the feeling that the reaping that year would be different.
