it's not the way you plan it */ open

[jeremiah zachary lockhearst]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF] [/style]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=dcdcdc][style=width: 360px; height: 200px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][style=width: 350px; height: 200px; background: #c49ca9 url(http://jeremyironsno1fan.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/maxirons_page_31_415.jpg); border: solid #ffffff 4px; align: center;]

[/div]

this was it. he was either throwing his life away, and giving his mother a lost child to grieve for, or he was going to be a winner, a hero, and save his mother's life. jeremiah stood in the place where soon, everything would change for him. he'd already made his decision, and hadn't dared tell anyone, for fear that it would reach his parents and they would try and talk him out of it. he didn't want that to happen because seeing his mother upset at what he was planning to do would dissolve any resolve he had to go forth and do it. he was determined to volunteer, and he wouldn't do anything that would mean he might get talked out of it. there was a reason he'd made this choice, and he was going to stick to it. besides, he'd heard that winners get a shiny new house to live in, and he wanted to give that to his parents, though he wasn't sure that his father could ever be convinced to leave the farm. he would try though, and if not, they were welcome to stay with him.

because surely he would win. he was too young to die.


of course, that statement was ridiculous. no one was too young to die. he'd watched games before and tributes could be as young as twelve. his sister was fourteen, he didn't want this life for her. at least if he survived he could tell her what to expect if she ever did get picked and rally up pleanty of sponsors for her and do his best to give her the support she needed to survive too. he wouldn't lose her to the games. he wouldn't lose himself to them either. he wouldn't die. he would come back a victor and his life would be filled with happiness. his mother could be treated and get better and he'd never have to compete again and he'd be a true winner. he'd feel like he could do anything. it was these hopes that jeremiah would be carrying with him for every second that the games ticked on. no one else from the district would volunteer, why would they? what silly person would volunteer for this unless they had a good reason like he did. yes, this was a good reason, that was why he was going to do it. was he being silly, making plans for a future that he might not have?

jer looked around the district square and remembered how it looked, filled with people ready to witness the reaping. it was practically empty now, other than him. sighing, he stretched a little, and then began to run. he'd ran this morning but wanted to run more. it would help him forget what might lie ahead and make him concentrate on other things. the beat of his shoes on the stone, the sound of each breath he took, the cold of the wind as he ran on his face, and the complete calm that he'd let take over him as he completed his first lap. he let his ears reach further this time, and didn't confine them to the sounds that he was making with his movements. birds, in the distance, a dull hum of chatter, not too far away, and more footsteps, not his this time, heading toward his location. he stopped and looked, to see who his new company was.

it's worth fighting for.
{clothes. thread is open! lyrics from paramore, it never ends}

[/td][/tr]
[tr][td][atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF][style=width: 45px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][/style][/td][/tr]
[/center]
[/table][/center]

[trell norris willowroot]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 505px; -moz-border-radius: 0 185 185 0px;background-color:#09281d;] so we burst into colours ---------------------------------------- colours and carousels, fall head first, like paper planes & play ground games -------- The morning air was chilled as Trell Willowroot roused herself from her bed. She knew that it was far too early for anyone else to rise in her home. Her sister had school to worry about, and her mother never really moved much any more. Trell had abandoned the thought of school long ago, knowing that she had to do everything she could to keep her family safe and sound in their own little world. Her sister still lived as the happy little girl she remembered growing up, so she left her like that. There were times, though, when her little sister would grow dark and distant, and Trell worried that she would turn like her mother, getting ill at the drop of a dime. That's why she was out of bed now, and stepping into the warm shower that had finally gotten fixed after years of working towards it. As she stepped out of the metal tub she sighed, drying her hair with one towel as she quickly dried herself off with another. She tossed a glance to the old clock that hung by the wall, another item she knew that a lot of people did not have. Oh sure, people in her district were probably better off, but in the three below 9, who knew what they could have? She threw on a simple powder blue tee-shirt and pair of black pants that were a few sizes too big for her. They had been her father's, one of the things she refused to give up after he died. She tied the pants off with a cord of rope, knowing it would be more helpful than a belt, and set off down the stairs, trying not to wake up the rest of her family. She did her morning routine, setting a kettle of water on the stove to heat for tea, knowing her sister would be up shortly to take it off of the flame and fix some for her mother. She also set out a loaf of bread and some jam for her family's breakfast, but only enough for the two of them. She knew she would not be back in time. It would take her forever to scan the cracks in the Square's tiles for the small weeds she needed for her mother's tea, and she planned to stay until she found more than she needed. She left the house, then, walking the short distance to the Square. Almost immediately she knelt down, scanning the breaks in the tiles for the strange white weeds she was told would help with her mother's illness. She would try anything to make her mother better. Trill needed her more than she needed her big sister to protect her. Her fingers clawed at the tiles slightly, trying to see if any would move, before moving to the next one. She had not even noticed the footsteps near her until they stopped. She blinked as she looked up, surprised to see anyone else out. "H..Hello." Her voice was quiet and small, and she quickly looked back down. People were not her forte.

template by pan @ caution2.0!

[jeremiah zachary lockhearst]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF] [/style]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=dcdcdc][style=width: 360px; height: 200px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][style=width: 350px; height: 200px; background: #c49ca9 url(http://jeremyironsno1fan.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/maxirons_page_31_415.jpg); border: solid #ffffff 4px; align: center;]

[/div]

the sun rising over the buildings was nice. he appreciated the morning sun a lot more now than he used to as a child. as a kid, it just meant that it was time to go out and play, now it meant a new day was dawning, and he wasn't sure how many of these he might have left. he wasn't sure if he could afford to think like that and be a pessimist. he wanted to win, and pessimism wouldn't help anyone reach that goal, but he had to be realistic. only one would come out of there, and people had been training for this from other districts their whole lives. what chance did a simple farm hand have? ok, he wasn't that simple. his eyes were sharp, his hearing was great and he could use a bow as if he'd been born with one. not to mention the pace that he could keep as a runner. he'd been running in the mornings for years now, and the entire time that he ran, he kept his mind at first on his body, on the motions and the rhythms and on his breathing. it helped him pace himself a lot more, he found, than just running to reach a goal.

and now he had a goal, and several steps to getting there. he was going to volunteer. that was a big step. it would change everything and before that step, he still had the chance to drop it, back out, and spend his life living well, and praying that he wasn't pulled out at the reaping the following year. once step one had been accomplished, there was no turning back. step two, train hard, and don't lose sight of that goal. step three, get a good head start. decent sponsors and familiarizing himself with the location would be best, so he'd know where to go and what to do, and where to find the best food and water sources. step four, survive. he couldn't put that any plainer. step six, win, of course. step seven would be to get the money toward the right health professional and save his mother's life. and that was his ultimate goal. yes, it wasn't just winning that he was hoping and praying to accomplish, it was saving his mother that he really had in mind. maybe some sponsors would take pity on him or understand and sponsor him. maybe.

of course, he couldn't really think about anything else, other than what the reaping would be like. some poor soul would have to have their names called first, and all the fear and horror that they felt would be visible in their faces, and then maybe he'd be a saviour in their eyes, saying those words that might mean he'd never return home. "i volunteer"

[/color] he whispered to himself under his breath, wanting to know what it would feel like as they fell off his lips. even now they sent a shiver up his spine. it wasn't long after that he heard someone's footsteps and he turned to look at his present company. at first, he could see no one, but after looking for someone standing up, he bent his head low to scan the ground, and then he saw her, not too far from his feet. she was very pretty. what was she doing there on the floor? it looked like she was picking for something, and he was curious as to what. maybe she was just a little bit mad.

"what are you doing down there?"[/color] he asked, cocking his head to the side in a curious manner. "can i help you out with anything?"[/color] his natural instinct was to help people. how would he cope in the games, when he could be surrounded by twelve year olds who were going to die? how would he survive knowing it would have to be either them, or him? he didn't want to die. he deserved a chance at life, as did every other tribute whose name would be called out from the bowl. why did this godforsaken horrible tournament exist? of course, it was a punishment, a way to make people lose ones they love, so that they don't forget about the past. hadn't enough people died yet?[/div]

it's worth fighting for.
{clothes. thread is open! lyrics from paramore, it never ends}

[/td][/tr]
[tr][td][atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF][style=width: 45px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][/style][/td][/tr]
[/center]
[/table][/center]

[trell norris willowroot]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 505px; -moz-border-radius: 0 185 185 0px;background-color:#09281d;] so we burst into colours ---------------------------------------- colours and carousels, fall head first, like paper planes & play ground games -------- The winds chill was brushing around her face, blowing her hair into her eyes. She gave a slight grumble before she set down the small basket she brought with her, not even caring that her hands were already covered in dirt as she lifted them, tying her hair out of her face with a piece of ribbon that had been wrapped around her wrist. With a smile, she wiped at her brow. Not even a few minutes and the sun was already starting to come up. The wind may be cool, but the sun was still hot, and was causing Trell to sweat just a little bit. She heard the footsteps come near her, but she ignored then. She tore at every little crack she could find in the ground, smiling brightly when she found a small clump of the white weeds she was looking for. She tossed them into her basket before she turned, stopping only when she came face to face with shoes, and a voice addressing her. "I..Um.." She bit at her bottom lip slightly before she turned back to the ground. It was hard for her to talk to people, she hadn't had much time with them, since she had to take care of the business and her family. She took a breath as she pulled another clump of the weeds from under a crack in the rocks. "My mother's sick. Has been for years. Someone told me these could help." She spoke quietly, so quietly she didn't know if the boy would even be able to hear her. When he offered assistance, she bit her lip again. Finally she took a moment to look up at the boy. She almost gasped. He was handsome. Extremely so. With the prettiest eyes she had ever seen in a boy. A pale pink tint crossed her cheeks as she looked back down. "W..Well. I'm sure you're stronger than I am. Maybe you could lift the broken rocks so I can check under them..?" She bit her lip again at the thought. She couldn't believe she was asking for help from a stranger. No..Not a stranger. She'd seen him around before, he'd probably bought clothes from her shop before.

template by pan @ caution2.0!

[abigail bellus esurio]

"Abigail!" Her mother's shrill voice exploded in her ears. "Abigail!!!!" Her mother's voice boomed down the hallway. She tossed in her bed and looked up at the ceiling. The aroma of breakfast foods tip toed up the stairs from the downstairs cafe, slipped quietly under the crack in Abigail's door and into her nose. She sighed and closed her eyes and counted to five before rolling out of bed. Abigail tossed on a green sundress and braided her hair into a long braid and then tossed it around so it fell across her right shoulder and over her right breast. She quickly pushed her feet into a small pair of white topsiders before throwing open her door. Her father was already at work and her mother was preparing to open the cafe for the busy breakfast hours that were to come. Abigail walked into the hallway and through the rest of the family's upstairs apartment before heading downstairs and into the main area of the cafe.

"FINALLY!" Her mother sighed with exasperation as Abigail entered into the kitchen area. Her mother was hard at work, cleaning off the girdles and stoves, and setting out various items that would be cooked as people ordered them. Abigail remained silent as her mother placed a basket onto one of the many tables around the kitchen. Her mother moved gracefully around the kitchen, grabbing different kinds of foods from here and there before placing them in the basket and in other various spots around the room. In only a few minutes, her mother had finished packing the basket. It contained only a few kinds of fruits and a slice of bread. Her mother then slapped a small piece of paper on the inside of the basket. "Take this to your father please and make sure you take only the paved roads, none of your little shortcuts, the fruit in there can be damaged quite easily."

With a quick nod, Abigail took the basket and exited the shop. She had made this trip many times before. Usually, she would cut behind the square, and then she would cross over the street near the edge of the district before navigating back to a street that lead directly to her father's work station but today Abigail would have to go through the Square and then go from there. She shivered as she moved through the cool morning, a few gusts of wind caused the hair on her arms and legs to stand on end. The family cafe was not very far from the square and soon Abigail could see the giant plaza in front of her. The enormous screen the citizens used to watch the Hunger Games was blank except for the Panem national symbol hanging, surrounded by empty black. The square was usually empty at this time, but she could see two people, a woman and a young man, standing conversing. Abigail would be forced to pass by them in order to get the path she would have to take.

The basket swung in her hand as she entered the large square. She lowered her head, took a deep breath and prepared to pass by the two people standing. Abigail was just about to reach them when she felt her foot catch on something. A loose block, the tip of her foot had somehow gotten caught. She was considered, by most, an exception courier, but today seemed to be her unlucky day. She only had seconds to curse in head as she felt herself falling towards the ground. Abigail watched as the basket flew from her hands and the bright colored fruits fell to the ground. The piece of bread collided with the orange and the two foods went crashing to the ground. The plum was most unlucky of them all. The fragile purple fruit splattered as it met its death upon the plaza.

Abigail cried out as she hit the floor. Already, her cheeks were beginning to warm as she realized she had fallen just feet from the people she had been working so hard to avoid.

((i hope you guys don't mind me just kinda jumping in. lemme know if you do though, it won't be a problem.))

[jeremiah zachary lockhearst]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF] [/style]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=dcdcdc][style=width: 360px; height: 200px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][style=width: 350px; height: 200px; background: #c49ca9 url(http://jeremyironsno1fan.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/maxirons_page_31_415.jpg); border: solid #ffffff 4px; align: center;]

[/div]

jeremiah smiled down at the girl when she turned toward his direction. it wasn't even like she'd looked up, and he assumed that she must be shy. why else would she be avoiding eye contact with him? he hadn't met her before, so she had no reason to not want to talk to him. did he smell bad? he tried to surreptitiously smell his shirt, but that one was clean, so it couldn't be that, and his sniffing at the material confirmed it. when she spoke, and didn't really know what to say, it seemed, he assumed that his theory was correct and she wasn't that big on talking to people. maybe because he was a strange man. he wasn't the type that people worried about though, jer had always had a kind look to his face. jeremiah watched her battle, pulling clumps out with much difficulty from under the stone slabs. her soft voice spoke again. anyone else might have strained to hear her, but not jeremiah, with his excellent hearing. he hoped that if he did get picked, that his hearing would come in handy. and then there were the words. my mother's sick they ran through his mind again and he felt a twinge of sadness. he knew what that was like. he didn't even know what was ravaging his mother's body, only that she was struggling to fight it, and remained weak most days. it was sad to see someone you loved deteriorate like that. he didn't want to watch his mother die. that was why he was doing this.

"are they some sort of miracle herb?"

[/color] he asked with a faint smile, before kneeling down beside her. "of course, i would be only too happy to help you out"[/color] he said, his faint smile growing stronger and bigger. he hoped his mother would grow stronger soon too, but if she didn't he would be doing his best out there to get back to her with the money to get her a cure. he wasn't going to let his mother waste away and die, not like that. she would die from old age, and have lived a full and happy life. he was determined. jeremiah couldn't bear to watch his mother slip away, there was no way he could let his family go through with that and lose someone so important to them. not without doing everything in his power to stop it, at the very least. he searched the first tile for an easy in, the best way to get it up, so to speak, and when he found the best grip, he dug his fingernails beneath it and tugged hard at it, pulling it up enough for the pretty blonde girl to get beneath it. "i'm jeremiah"[/color] he introduced himself as he worked, sending a soft smile her way. he wanted her to know that he wasn't a stranger, and that she was safe with him. he'd never dream of hurting a woman.

after pulling a few tiles just the same, he heard more footsteps, followed by a cry out and his head snapped up to see what had happened. a girl had fallen, it seemed, and she was on the floor not too far from where he was. he made sure his blonde companion's hands were out of the way of danger before setting the stone tile down back in its place. he didn't want anyone else to fall over because of them, after all. his next move was to stand and move toward the girl, being careful of whatever lose tile it was that she'd caught her foot on. next, he offered the girl a hand, and knelt down to check she was alright. "are you ok? you didn't hit your head or hurt anything?"[/color] he asked, checking her eyes for any sort of signs of lack of focus. he didn't want her to faint and hurt herself again. once she was safely back on her feet, he set his mind to saving her basket of things as best he could, and then handing it back to her. "here"[/color] he offered the basket to the fallen girl, and looked around to smile at trell. "i'm sorry i got distracted from the task at hand, i can't just sit by when people might be hurt and i am sure you understand"[/color] he said with a caring smile to trell, before looking back to the fallen girl once again.

"i'm jeremiah"[/color] he said, offering his hand after she'd taken the basket. he always had liked putting names to faces. using descriptive names like 'his blonde companion' or 'the fallen girl' was his habit until he knew their names, but it wouldn't make sense to anyone else.
[/div]

it's worth fighting for.
{clothes. thread is open! lyrics from paramore, it never ends}

[/td][/tr]
[tr][td][atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF][style=width: 45px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][/style][/td][/tr]
[/center]
[/table][/center]

[trell norris willowroot]

Trell was grateful for the help that the boy was giving her. From the look on his face, he was in the same boat as she was. "Um...Yes." She said in answer to his question about the herbs. She honestly didn't know what they did, she only knew that they were supposed to help her mother. Of course, Trell should know more about herbs, she spent most of her time in the arena helping her allies patch up their wounds. But that was only information she had retained from the Training Center. She forgot most of what happened to her in the games, it was better that way.

He introduced himself, then, and Trell had to give a soft smile. This boy was kind, helping a stranger out of the blue. "Trell." She introduced herself simply, before she heard the crash and scream. She turned her head just as Jer did, spotting the girl not too far away. She'd seen her before, that much she knew. Probably another customer, or maybe they had been in school together, Trell couldn't remember. She dropped the last clump of herbs into her basket and watched as Jer dropped the broken tile. She quickly picked up the basket before running to the girl.

She stood next to Jer, a look of concern washing over her face as she looked down at the girl. When Jer spoke, she shook her head, understanding completely. "It's alright." She said with a simple nod before looking back to the girl. "Can you stand...?" Her voice was its normal quiet tone, and she couldn't help but wonder if the girl could actually hear her. She would find out in a moment, though. And if she couldn't, at least she remembered how to cure some ailments. She had set bones plenty of time in the arena.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[abigail bellus esurio]

Oh god. Oh god. Deep breaths. Deep breaths

Mother was going to kill her and now her father, and the others less fortunate that her father often shared his lunch with, would go without food for the workday. Abigail could feel her stomach churning and her face burning up. Her vision blurred for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath and sort out what happened. She had tripped and fallen, what an elementary thing for her do, she had no troubles navigating the root filled fields that she so often traveled over, or the rubble filled alleys yet she had slipped up and fallen on a paved road. The entrails of the plum had gotten on her hand and she tried to focus on it to calm herself. The purple-red fleshy substance was splashed across her right hand. She fixated on it for a moment, watching as the deep color began to seep into the lines of her hands. It seemed as though small rivers had formed on the exterior or her body. A piece of its skin slid off her hand and rested in between a crack in the ground. Slowly, her vision straightened out and her body began to calm. The span of her internal freak out and then composure happened in the span of a few seconds.

Suddenly, someone was approaching her. It took her a second to register that the person was coming over to assist her. Abigail gazed up and found herself looking into the face of a young man. Behind the young man, Abigail could see another person, a blonde woman, she was also coming over, Abigail could make a concerned look on her face. She hesitated for second as he attempted to help her up. She was not used to be touched by strangers as he was now but Abigail couldn't refuse the help. She had fallen within feet of them and she supposed it was better that they had helped her instead of just ignoring her plight.

"Um…" Abigail stammered. The sundress she was wearing had crinkled slightly so she took a second to pull it down. As she readjusted herself, she noticed a small trickle of blood running down her knee. She reached down and awkwardly wiped it away before looking back up at the boy and the blond woman. "I think I'm okay…" Abigail's voice faltered as she finished her sentence and her eyes frantically searched around for her basket. She was on the verge of having a panic attack when the boy handed her to basket with a few pieces of fruit still inside. A large smile broke out on her face as he handed it back. It was a little injured, a small piece of the wooden basket was sticking out but Abigail could fix that with a quick poke. She pushed the piece back inside and it was good as new.

"I-Im Abigail…nice to meet you." The words came out in a hushed, embarrassed tone. "And y-you're Trell…right?" Abigail had purchased clothing from her when she was a few years younger and she often bought small breakfasts to Trell's home.

[jeremiah zachary lockhearst]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF] [/style]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=dcdcdc][style=width: 360px; height: 200px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][style=width: 350px; height: 200px; background: #c49ca9 url(http://jeremyironsno1fan.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/maxirons_page_31_415.jpg); border: solid #ffffff 4px; align: center;]

[/div]

jeremiah smiled with satisfaction when the girl assured himself and trell that she was alright. he didn't like to see others hurt, which made his position in having to enter the games for his mother's sake, even more unfortunate. he was hoping, he wouldn't lie, to survive without killing anyone and just be the last one to manage to live. he was good with surviving on basic things that he had caught, and he had his handy hearing, which meant he could hear when someone was coming and keep out of their way, and therefore, out of danger. he knew the capitol would probably try and throw in curve balls here or there so that he'd do something a little bit more entertaining than running and hiding and catching bugs or, hopefully, fish. he needed to get sponsors too, so he'd have to stand out. how was he going to manage that? yes, he knew that he could be considered good looking, but by any means he wouldn't be the best looking guy there. he probably would look pretty plain next to the other tributes. maybe his reasons for joining would stand out enough for themselves and that would earn him the help that he would need to survive.

he pulled himself out of his ever intrusive thoughts. they seemed to be intruding on his life even more recently and distracting him from the tasks at hand. this was bad when you worked on a farm and had to be extremely careful with what you were doing with tools and such. "i'm glad to hear you are ok, a fall like that could shake anyone up"

[/color] jer said, his friendly smile and demeanour taking over once more. "it's nice to meet you, abigail"[/color] he said with a smile. the name she'd just spoken struck a chord with him though. trell, he recognised it. "you won the games once"[/color] he turned to trell, remembering the whole ordeal. he'd watched the games on tv, you were sort of forced to, he never wanted to watch. and now he'd be smack bang in the middle of it with people watching him. he wondered what this meant. would she be a mentor? he hadn't even thought about mentors yet, he just thought about volunteering and sponsors and winning, because those were three things that he needed.

he needed to win for his mother's sake, he needed sponsors to win and he needed to volunteer to start the whole process in the first place. "shall we go somewhere and sit down?"[/color] he asked his present company, thinking it best that they sit down and have a chat, their legs would get tired, being stood up all the time and he wanted his legs and the rest of his body to be able to hold him steady here tomorrow, as he walked toward the stage. it would be terrible to fall on the steps or something horrible like that. it would be so very embarrassing, he'd look so weak, like he couldn't even walk up a pair of stairs. if he couldn't manage that, how did he expect to win? that's what everyone would ask themselves. maybe they'd like the helpless thing. he didn't know. he didn't know what they would go for. maybe he did need a good mentor after all.
[/div]

it's worth fighting for.
{clothes. thread is open! lyrics from paramore, it never ends}

[/td][/tr]
[tr][td][atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF][style=width: 45px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][/style][/td][/tr]
[/center]
[/table][/center]

[trell norris willowroot]

Trell gave a small smile before her eyes widened a bit. She did recognize the girl, and obviously, the girl recognized her as well. "Y..Yes. And I remember you. Your breakfasts always make my little sister smile." She gave a smile before she stood, brushing herself off. She looked around her, blinking a bit. Her basket was empty. She sighed when she saw the clump of herbs on the ground by her feet. She bent down again and scooped them up, putting them back in the basket. They should have been enough for at least one batch of tea, which would hopefully prove if they really worked or not.

She moved back to the other two, spotting bits and pieces of food everywhere. There was a small loaf of bread near her feet, so she picked it up, taking it over to Abigail. "Here. This one looks like it's still in tact." She said simply with a smile as she handed it to her. She found it strange, that here she was, smiling and talking with two children that could possibly be with her on the train to the Games, could possibly be dead in less than days. She shook her head slightly, trying to get the thoughts out of her head. She couldn't think like that now. Pretty soon, she would have to put her game face on. She won the games herself, and she would have to show one of them how to do it.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[abigail bellus esurio]

It made Abigail smile when Trell mentioned that the breakfasts she sometimes bought to her made someone happy. She had always been proud of her family business. It was one of the best places to eat in all of the twelve districts, or so her mother liked to tell people. The advertisement was obviously false, how could anyone within the district know if the cafe was truly better than anything else offered. No one here, save for a few peacekeepers, the victors on their tour and maybe the mayor, had been to any other districts. Abigail was curious about the food in the other districts. She had heard, from one of the peacekeepers who always visited the cafe, that district one had some of the best food he had ever seen. He said the food was funneled in straight from the Capitol. That they had giant watermelons, huge oranges, and bread so soft that you could sleep on it. Abigail was frustrated at them for having such luxuries. She had never been extremely hungry, like others in her district had, but the food they got here was nothing like what they had in the higher districts.

Abigail thanked Trell and placed the bread back into the basket, snuggling it up to a bruised apple. Usually, Abigail would be trying to run out of this social situation. Something was different this time. Maybe it was because she didn't want to face her mother and father when she had to tell them that she dropped the delivery or maybe it was the slight nagging voice deep within Abigail's brain, that she barely heard, telling her that these people would be important in the coming days. Besides, the two of them weren't so bad. Trell was gentle and Jeremiah was as well. She felt almost safe around them.

Responding to Jeremiah's offer Abigail spoke up. "Sure…" She scanned the square. "Anything to keep me away from my mother after this little incident…" She tried to joke, her voice still soft as the slowly warming morning air around them. "Th-there's some benches over there…" She pointed out a collection of shanty green benches. They were adorned with the insignia of District 9 and were slightly hidden by a blossoming bush, the spring air was slowly breathing life into it.

[jeremiah zachary lockhearst]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF] [/style]

[atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=dcdcdc][style=width: 360px; height: 200px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][style=width: 350px; height: 200px; background: #c49ca9 url(http://jeremyironsno1fan.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/maxirons_page_31_415.jpg); border: solid #ffffff 4px; align: center;]

[/div]

jeremiah smiled as he heard trell speak. she seemed lovely. both of them did. jeremiah hoped that this girl wasn't going to be the one at the reaping tomorrow. she was too nice to go through that and he didn't want anyone to have to anyway. he would have to though. damn that. damn it. but if he wanted to do right by his mother then he would risk his life for her so that he could get her a cure and he knew that, and felt 100 percent that it was the right thing to do. he didn't blame his mother for this at all. how could he? it wasn't her fault she got sick and he certainly wasn't going to let her feel that way. she was lovely and amazing and his mother had always been one of the best cooks. how could she have willed that illness upon her? it was silly to think that. no one chose to be sick. certainly not his mother. he couldn't tell you why she was the one who got sick, either, she'd always been so strong.

he frowned, before attempting a distraction from thoughts like this. this was his last day as a free man, so to speak, and moping around thinking of depressing and saddening things wasn't the way he should be spending it. no, spending it with two pretty women from his district, who both seemed very caring and nice, was the perfect way to spend it. or well, at least some of it. he'd have to go home and help on the farm eventually. and he'd have to fix his clothes for tomorrow. he wanted to look good for the people. first impressions counted and all that, and he wouldn't embarrass himself by looking like a tramp. "so, are we all ready for tomorrow? it's my least favourite day of the year, i think"

[/color] he said, shrugging his shoulders and looking at the two girls. when abigail pointed out some benches, jeremiah headed for them, before taking a seat and ensuring there was enough space for his companions.

he looked out over the square and tried to imagine it, full with people, with the big screen there, and his face on it as he climbed up the stairs. would his legs even work if they knew where he was trying to take them? would they freeze and stop? would the peace keepers have to drag him there? no, he would do his best to walk up there like a brave young man. he could do that, couldn't he? he didn't want his family to see him being dragged away. no, he wouldn't allow that. "do either of you have nightmares about it?"[/color] he asked a somewhat personal question. he knew he had been. his name being called, and him being dragged away. his mother and sister begging him not to go. his district hating him, and watching him die in the bloodbath. they were certainly anything but nice.[/div]

it's worth fighting for.
{clothes. thread is open! lyrics from paramore, it never ends}

[/td][/tr]
[tr][td][atrb= border, 0, true][cs=2][bg=9966FF][style=width: 45px; padding-top: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px;][/style][/td][/tr]
[/center]
[/table][/center]