. ✦ —— something somber filled the dry air, a thrum of activity in the sleepy centre of district eleven that reached even the outskirts. everyone wearing their very best sunday attire to an event that crucified the district's ripest to be plucked from their homes to entertain those with riches. seventeen. only this year and then another, and prism could be free from worrying about this event any longer. he had trudged alone towards the busier centre of the district from the shadowy outskirts he lived in with his mother, every step heavy with an exhaustion that was no longer dread for if he got chosen, but just dull irritation that he even had to still attend. one boy in a crowd of hundreds, he had evaded the reaping thus far, what was another two years? his mother had been too weak to leave her bed once again, leaving prism to attend the reaping alone, after giving her a hasty good-bye and a quick kiss on the cheek with a promise to be home soon enough. another year in a row he went alone. he didn't mind, though— he understood. slipping into the crowd through throngs of cats like a quiet shadow, prism situated himself somewhere inconspicuous. middle of the crowd, where he was close enough to see but far away enough to not be noticeable. not that he had any issues being noticed, usually, the vibrant dyes in his fur drawing the eyes of younger members of the district that hadn't really met him yet. he nodded a polite hello to an older cat that they've seen a few years in a row by now, just a year older than himself, green eyes and vaguely golden-brown and cream fur. they weren't really friends, he didn't even remember their name, but it was still a familiar face among other familiar yet nameless faces, recognizable to him but blurry around the edges in his mind. the shrill voice of a capitol cat beginning to speak sent a hush over the crowd, and prism began to zone out. the speech was basically the same every year— a brief explanation, yada yada, may the odds ever be in your favour. cool. he didn't need to listen to it for the hundredth time. names were beginning to be called, the elegant flick of the capitol cat's wrist with every name they drew out a little too showy in prism's opinion. he stared at their wrist with scrutiny, hyper focused on perhaps the most useless detail there could be. he wondered what his mother was doing. hopefully sleeping, resting up so she could be well enough to at least join him for dinner tonight after weeks of having to eat alone at the table. but if she was awake, he wondered if she was watching too. he had left their scrappy television on, probably, maybe. he couldn't really remember. what should be for dinner tonight, is the better question, perhaps. "prism lucif." prism snapped back to reality, his ears twitching at the four syllables booming obnoxiously from the microphone, and then the dread that had been absent from his stomach began to seep in, like he was thirteen and attending the reaping for the first time alone again. "prism lucif~" there it was again. oh. his paws felt heavy with lead as he took a step forward, tail dragging on the asphalt as he stared, too much yet not enough racing through his mind in the moment. his mother. oh god, what will she do without him? a paw settled on his shoulder, causing his head to turn slightly towards the source. the nameless cat, the one he had nodded to earlier, looked at him with a grave expression. "prism—" oh, how embarrassing, they know his name? "prism— your mom is bedridden, right? don't worry about her, i'll try to drop in whenever i run my errands to check on her. chin up, march on up there." oh. that was awfully kind of them. prism felt a little bad not remembering their name now. he mouthed a thank you, his throat feeling too dry to say anything out loud. the crowd parted for him as he walked as briskly as he could while his whole body felt like it wanted to sink into the ground, making his way to the front before climbing up onto the stage to stand beside the other tributes. his eyes searched for those green eyes again, seeking out a slightly more familiar face among the wave of faces belonging to the community he was a part of but didn't take part in. the cat mouthed a good luck to him. all prism could muster was a stiff nod of acknowledgement. prism lucif of district eleven, doomed tribute of round twelve of the hunger games. wow. if he gets to return, the first thing on his bucket list is finding out what that guy's name is. it's the least he could do. . ✦ —— i'll add a tn eventually.. rushed getting this out
