Name: Seth Gunner
Age: 16
Gender: Male
District: 7
Appearance: Stands at 5"10 with a strong stance. Thin yet had a decent amount of muscle. Has lightly tanned skin from climbing so high up in the trees. Has sharp facial features, yet has soft, kind eyes the colour of leaves in the summer. Has hair a light brown that is beginning to resemble a rusted copper that falls over his face at times. Mostly slightly over his face in a quiff, it will have the occasional few strands that like to peek over his face, not that he minds.
Personality: Seth is a mixed bag. When relaxes or with friends, he can sort of lose control, get a little crazy and very talkative. But when he's in his element, he becomes heavy focused on the talk at hand. But every other moment of the day, he is very quiet and lonely. People seem to forget about him, so he tries to hide. He doesn't want people to see how broken he truly is.
Four Skills: Seth is good with his words, he can persuade and convince people to do things, but he will always feel guilt when it is against their bidding.
As a member of District 7, Seth has grown up with a natural knack for handling and axe.
Seth has also learned the art of sword fighting (in secret), for self-defence. His mother always worried about him.
Seth's last skill is the ability to camouflage. After years of wanting to disappear and hide from others, he picked it up quickly.
Weapon of Choice: A sharpened, silver axe, with a hand-crafted wooden handle make of maple wood.
Played by: NotSoBlindBanker
Reaping
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It was a usual Monday, I was in a tree in an attempt to hide from my problems, but that won't work for long, the peace keepers will find me at some point. As I begin to make my way down, I hear a young voice yell at me.
"If you take any longer, you'll miss the whole reaping!" I skip that last few branches and jump to the ground. I turn to face the sores of the voice, Frankie. My younger brother. He's only 12 but soon he'll be taller than me. Takes after dad more than me. His warm, whiskey coloured eyes that show nothing but affection, and his soft facial features. You can't tell we're related. I pat down the stray dirty blond hairs that are sticking up on his head. No matter how much combing this kid does, he can't tame his hair.
"Don't touch it! Mom spent ages making sure it was perfect!" He swats my hand away.
"You sure about that bud?" I question. Frankie looks forwards the ground in defeat. I reach over and place my arm over his shoulders.
"Time to get going." Frankie looked at me sadly. We were not looking forward to the reaping. Walking to the town square, I hear the usual sounds. Children crying in their parent's arms, some inflicting injury and illness so they can't compete. It's sad, really. People were already piling in. Some excited, others not so much. I can see my parents waiting outside the ropes for us. Frankie immediately rushes towards out mother. He's scared, but I'm not surprised.
"Son, I want you to volunteer this year." My father places his left hand on my arm. He always thought I was strong, bold and daring. Three things I am not. But that didn't stop him from trying to "build me up". I shake my head at this comment.
"I wouldn't last a day, I would get killed in the blood bath."
"But think of the money, the glory. Do you know how much that would help us?"
"This isn't 12, dad. We have enough money for what we need." I ball up my fists. I can't lash out, not here.
"But think of how much this will help your mother..."
"Help mother! She would be heartbroken! Why are you even asking me to do this!" I grab Frankie's arm and storm off. We need to check in.
The lines aren't very long at the moment, so it was a quick check in. I make my over to the 16-year-old section, allowing myself to zone out while I wait for everyone to arrive. What if father's advice is helpful, how would mother feel if I volunteered. What would mother do if Frankie was reaped?
I'm dragged out of my thoughts by a high pitched, female voice. By her curly hair, bright colours and almost unwalkable shoes, I can tell that my decent into hell got a lot faster.
"Welcome, welcome, children of District 7! It is that time of the year again. Time to reap two more tributes to compete in our annual Hunger Games!" Love Kinder. That woman doesn't age. She's been doing this for more years than I've been alive.
"As always, ladies first!" She walked over towards that bowl to her left, the click of her heels echoing with every step.
"And the female tribute is. Addalyn Maxwell!" The girl emerges from the 17-year-old sections, pale with long dark hair. She's small, but is very lean. She will win over sponsors in no time. She takes her place next to Love, a stern look of her face.
"Now for the boys!" Love announces. She reaches into the bowl on the other side of the stage. Her long, heavy decorated nails clicking against the glass. She swiftly pulls a name out from somewhere in the middle of all the papers.
"Joseph Goodman!" She announces is a perky tone. A young kid, maybe around 12 to 13 begins to walk up to the stage. He must live in the poorer parts of 7. He's so thin, you can see his bones. He was a limp as he walks. The guilt is overwhelming. Do I run, or do I stay? Before I can think, I sprint out into the isle.
"I volunteer as tribute!" I yell. My mother gives a shocked gasp behind me. My father applauds me before mother slaps him.
"Come on up then, young man." Love says. As I walk towards the stage, everyone breaks out in applause. I stop next to Joseph, and place a hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you. I will always remember you." He says to me. I begin to smile, even though I can feel my eyes well up, my vision blurring slightly. I continue to walk to where Love is, then proceeding to stand beside her.
"What is your name young man?" She asks me. As I stand so close to her, I can see all the wrinkles hiding under her makeup, plastic surgery isn't doing her any good. She smells like cheap cosmetics and strong perfume. I can't stand her. Too bad I'm stuck with her for the next 2 weeks.
"Seth Gunner"