cato benedict ivelyn
district 2, weaponry / 18 / brash, merciless, two-faced
cato had been ready for this moment since his birth, practically. so when his name was called, he could hear the whoops and hollers from his family to the side. the youngest out of four children, and the only one to be selected for the games. running up to the podium, he found himself beaming on the stage, beaming. he glanced at the girl beside him, a raven-haired girl with pasty white skin, her arms crossed with a defiant sneer plastered on her face. she, too, had won. but he would become the ultimate champion.
the celebrations commenced, and cato found it calming to watch the other player be selected. he shook his head. there would be no competition. the boys looked terrified to death and the girls couldn't have weighed more than 110 pounds a piece. he almost wished that the choices had been different, that he would actually have someone to fight. nonetheless, he was sure the competition that he was about to enter would be over very, very soon.
as he stepped into the training room with lona, his district partner, he caught the eye of nixon, who nodded at him. four. not very muscular, but there was something about him that cato couldn't quite place, comething that told him he needed him on his team. cato nodded back and turned away. of course, all the careers banded together at the beginning. for the most part, it kept them safe. then, after everyone had had time to bond and protect each other for a while, they would break up, and they would kill each other relentlessly. brutal, he knew, but it was the way it had to be.
cato searched around for an unoccupied station, well aware that his chiseled figure showed through the tight suit. as well as he liked it, he nearly wished it could be a little looser, just so he felt like his movement wasn't restricted. an empty station caught his eye - knives. however, just as he was about to join it, a blonde girl stepped up and took his spot. instead of causing a commotion, he simply watched her throw the first knife, landing it directly in the target's heart. he placed a hand to his chin, thinking. perhaps now would be a good time to watch everyone else for the first fifteen minutes. he already knew what he was good at. he just needed to figure out his competition (i mean, if he could really call it that.) if he knew their strengths, he knew how to play them. if he knew their weaknesses, then he knew how to kill them. he knew that the games were as much strategy as they were skill, psychology as they were physical. and he was ready to win.
francesca marie leopold
district 3, technology / 17 / collected, brave, methodical
francesca would have liked to have had an emotion prepared to appear on her fact once she got selected for the games. after having six years of standing in the queue only to watch her peers chosen and murdered, you would have thought that she would have enough time to think this through. the opposite appeared to be true as a blank look crossed her face as she heard her name called. the name that meant so much to her. hers. francesca barely felt her body moving up to the podium. her footsteps leading up to the stage were heavy, off-kilter, like she was going to fall over. die, right here, right now, and someone else could take her place.
the next few days seemed a blur. saying goodbye to her father was the hardest. make him proud, he said. don't kill anyone, he meant. her father was a doctor, one of the best in the country. he worked in the capitol. they knew her name, her face - it stuck out more than the others, the daughter of revered dr. jameson kelley leopold. she had been trained her entire life to save people, not harm them. her father didn't believe in the capitol's ways (her mother's opinion, while the same, didn't matter: she was dead). francesca couldn't believe the thoughts that her become her reality in just seconds. would she? could she kill another person if it meant staying alive herself?
the suit, as she entered the training room, clung to her body in an unfamiliar but comfortable way, like that was the way she should have always been wearing her clothes. she could feel the eyes on her athletic figure as she walked across the floor. at first, her eyes gazed solely at her booted feet, and then they worked up to eye level, glancing around the space. francesca was tall, for a girl, standing at nearly 5'9". it gave her a good vantage point. the sizes and builds of every person in here was different - a girl from six who she recognized by the blue streaks in her hair; a tall boy from...four? high cheekbones, dark hair. bronte, from her district. her best friend. her first kiss. as she thought about it, he turned to look at her, and she quickly glanced away.
francesca swallowed and glanced around the room again for something that she could work on. something she was extremely good at, that might intimidate the other players? one of her weaknesses that she could hope to improve? the brunette settled for a skill smack-dab in the middle, wandering over to a ropes-tying section in the corner, unoccupied. she looked up at the mentor manning the station, and couldn't help but to smile. "hello, toran," she said, recognizing the young man. winner from her district at fifteen, nearly nine years ago.
"hello, francesca," he politely repeated back. "i'm sorry that we haven't spoken in so long and that we meet again under these circumstances," he said, sighing. "i take it you'd like to learn more advanced techniques past the ones i've already showed you?" a smile grew on Francesca's face as she nodded, allowing her nimble fingers to pick up a piece of rope and follow the instructions that toran was providing her with.