◆ ❝One day, I'm gonna cut it clear. Ride like Paul Revere...❞ Laika hadn't intended on going to the reaping that day. She'd been far to busy dealing with other matters that the thought barely crossed her mind, especially now that she was eighteen and just on the cusp of being free of dealing with the stupid games every year. "D-don't, come on, I'll have your money by next week!" Laika stood towering over a frail old tabby, his face slashed and dripping scarlet over the concrete floor. "You said that last month, and the month before that." Laika's front right claws were covered in blood. "You had your chances. You've proven to be more of a waste than an investment." She took another step towards him, fur bristling as she lifted her paw and-- Laika was suddenly slammed off her feet by a cat that matched her in size, an almost impossible feat, and was adorned in all white clothing. Damnit! "What is it?" She snarled from beneath the peacekeeper, not even bothering to fight back. She knew that it was easier if she didn't resist - their tendency to resort to violence was disgusting at best and corrupt at worst. "Laika Volkova, eighteen years old, your presence is required for the Eleventh Hunger Games Reaping." He spoke in a booming voice that made her ears flatten tightly against her head. "Yeah, I was a little pre-occupied." She growled, turning her head only to see that the skinny tabby was gone. No! She'd be in so much trouble with the boss... "You've wasted enough of my time - if I'm not even going to be reaped then what's the point?" The peacekeeper let out a rumbling purr of amusement that sent a chill down Laika's spine, "Oh, but Miss Volkova, you have been." Laika narrowed her eyes up at him, pushing him off of her, "You shouldn't joke about that." "I'm not." Laika studied him carefully through his mask. It was almost impossible to distinguish his expression, but judging by the amused tone in his voice... he was being serious. And he enjoyed the fact that Laika was going to be sent to her certain death. A snarl ripped through her throat, but before she could say anything else, a group of peacekeepers emerged from the shadows, surrounding her. "Let's get you to the stage." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- ◆ ❝If I could leave, I would've already left...❞ ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Walking up the steps felt like an execution in and of itself. Nobody seemed too distraught - she wasn't surprised. Her reputation in District 12 was one borne of fear and hatred. Truthfully, she had no one to blame for that but herself - but she'd never been taught any better. She was quietly obedient as her name was called once again in her presence, dipping her head to stare at her paws so that she didn't have to see the apathetic expressions of the crowd. At least she wouldn't miss it here. She let herself be bustled behind the stage and through the doors of the train, vaguely aware that there was another tribute of far younger age than her, but she didn't spare him a second glance. She deserved this. ◆ ❝And, when they ask me who I am, I'll say, "I'm not from around here..."❞ ------------------------------------------------------------------------- LAIKA'S REAPING ┊NOTE: You can click to see the process of this art! ┊its been like... years since i drew in scratch i forgot how tedious it was ┊omg its been a YEAR since i first created her woww im old.. ┊BUT YIPPEE round 11!! CREDITS: ┊Art: (me) ┊Program Used: Scratch + Wacom One ┊Character: Laika Volkova (owned by me) ┊Audio: Paul Revere - Noah Kahan
