Taste is viewed within the eyes of the viewer.
Colors represent different things within different peoples eyes. For some, red is the color of love. Pure appreciation, thoughtful, overall love. But for others, it is opposite. For some, red is the color of blood. A color that stains through your skin and leaves you with death on your hands. Because as we all know, with blood comes death. However, it is truly always up to the viewer to decide an opinion.
But what if the opinion of the viewer is not that of their own?
Colors mean different things, especially in war. Grey designates the ashes, while colored flags signal the war. Black is for smoke, while yellow means light, but in the end colors don't matter, it's all simply based on how well you fight.
Radical Sephera, District Three. 17 years old.
Zero always told me I wasn't really one for emotions; and he's right. Ever since my accident, I couldn't remember anything really, aside from my brother of course. But no worries about me for him. I ran away. I adapted to my own lifestyle. I gave myself a new name. I started a new life for myself.
I am no longer the boy known as Bradley North.
As I wait for my stylist, an awfully awkward woman named Chice, I watch a rerun of last years Games on the TV. I love watching them. They can be both pitiful and inspiring, but it really depends on the tributes and the Arena. Right now, the District One female, Calico Granite, is going head-to-head in the final showdown with the boy from Four, Harytl Brine. I watch with intense focus as Harytl attacks the girl, using a basic yet undetected strategy. He plays her footwork to his advantage, stepping in certain spots so that she is forced to move her feet just where he wants them. Finally, when she is in the position he wants, he puts his foot behind hers, pulling it forward and forcing her to the ground. He steps on her wrists, breaking them with a shattering crack, and we hear her scream out in horrid pain.
For some the scenes would be disgusting and unwatchable, but not for me. They can die for all I care. I don't feel much negative emotion since the accident, and in fact, I can't even remember what the accident was or anything before it. The only thing I can remember is my brother, and I have nothing to do with him. I work on my own – somewhat. There's Zero too.
The thought of his name makes my stomach turn, and I think back to where we said our goodbyes.
As I sit on the pale velvet couch, wires twisting off an end table and off a chandelier, I can't help but focus on all the little details of the room. I wonder how it will feel once I load something sharp like that into my bow, shooting into the hearts of my enemies.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and Zero dashes into the room, his blonde curls falling into pale blue eyes.
Zero, my assistant. He helps me with all my work and business; all the trading and selling I do with the Capitol. He organizes my deliveries and helps me bring in the money. I only really gave him the job because he wouldn't leave me alone. But he's a good helped. A nice guy to have around. Not to mention – he cooks well.
"Radical! Why did you volunteer!" He says, panic in his voice.
"Because, Zero, Ginette was after me. She almost got me today. Besides, I think I've got what it takes. I can shoot a bow and arrow, and have no problem killing. Calm down. You can live without me for a while." I say, and recall the earlier events of the day.
Ginette had been chasing me, and her guards nearly got me today. If not for signing in at the reaping, they would have gotten me. Ginette chases me because I steal plans and information from her. It pisses her off that I sell it to the Capitol for my own fortune, but I don't give a damn what she thinks. As long as her guards don't get me, I'm fine.
"But you don't get it!" Says Zero, his eyes shifty. Get it? Get what?
"What don't I get Zero. Please inform me." I say, rolling my eyes sarcastically. He looks away for a moment, looking at the floor, and before I know it he's closing the space between us and kisses me.
The thoughts that run through my head are enough to distract me, and I don't push him away as I think. But finally, I'm back to my senses, and as I go to push him off of me he leaves before I can lift my hands.
"I…I like you Radical. I don't want you to die." He says, his eyes wide as he looks straight at me.
I'm stunned. Zero? Likes me? It's mainly weird because nothing in my mind is saying that it's wrong and that I don't like him, so I'm somewhat confused about it all.
Finally, a Peacekeeper opens the door, demanding Zero to leave. He gives me one last small, sad smile, and says, "Good Luck." Then, he's ushered out and I'm left to deal with my own thoughts. Hmm. Who would have thought that Zero was gay. But the better question…who would have thought I might be?
I snapped back into the real world by chirping sounds, which indicates that my prep team has entered the room.
"Radical, ah! I just cannot wait to get you all dressed up for tonight!" Says one of the ladies, standing about two feet over me in her freaky shoes. She squeals with joy, and it makes my ears hurt.
"Could you just talk like a normal human being for a while? Thanks. I'm sure we'd all appreciate it." I tell her bluntly, and she looks down in shock. Her eyes water, and she flees the room, gaining me dirty looks from the other prep members.
"What was that for? You're the odd one, not us." Snaps another lady, as she runs out to fetch Baum, the woman who I believe I just made cry.
Oh well, she doesn't bother me.
The man looks to me and holds in a chuckle, and I crack a smile. Someone sees how ridiculous they're being.
"I'm Naul, I'm sane. Don't worry. Now, lets get started, shall we?" He says, sitting me into the chair slowly.
Finally, someone knows what they're doing. They're not crazy.
At least not yet, anyways.
Silas Howell, District Two. 18 years old.
Being here makes me wonder how Juno and Calyx, my parents, are reacting to my decision to become a victor – a future volunteer. The thought of them going insane, being considered hypocrites among the district, makes me smile. They never cared much for me and Lyra, my younger sister, and I'll tell you just why.
My parents are both "creative thinkers," in a way. They believed that a higher power was watching them, evaluating them, and evidently controlling their lives. Their entire relationship was based around this religion of theirs, which was mainly set up as a set of beliefs. Interestingly enough, the two did not get on very well when they were not preaching or poking holes in other logic. And actually, they cared for their cause more than each other or their children. They would often do things that they thought would appease their God, in the hopes that they could live fulfilling lives and that their children would not be reaped. In fact, contrary to common District Two's beliefs, they thought volunteering to murder was wrong and it was always evident in how the victor turned out. A person shouldn't kill, nor choose to kill, as it devalues a person. They would often remark on how trainees would be "damned" and wanted Lyra and I to have no part in it.
So of course, I did it just to get back at them. Because of their "beliefs," our family has always been looked down upon. Lyra has been pushed down stairs and people treated me differently because of my dumbass parents so-called "religion." So I started training. I took advantage of the one thing my parents couldn't stand; using it against them completely. They shoved their beliefs down people's throats and now their child was a volunteer in the Games. Ironic, is it not?
I promised Lyra I would train, volunteer, and win. I told her that I would save her from the hell of a life my parents cause her, and take her to live with me in the Victors Village. I'm going to save her – it's a little rebellion of my own.
"Silas, hon, come back for a second. I need to adjust your outfit." Says my stylist, a strangely normal woman, with seemingly natural brown hair and icy blue eyes. The clothes she wears are a soft lilac, but nothing to extreme.
I walk back towards her, looking at anything but her as I do, feeling slightly awkward being alone with her with nothing to say. But that's alright. Once I win, they will all be here with me; except those that I kill that is.
I haven't really looked at my outfit, but now that I'm here before a mirror I take the time to look at the miracle that my prep team has created. I'm dressed in all black, aside from little red details all along my body. The jumpsuit I wear is black with red cuffs and spots everywhere, with black combat boots covering my ankles. My token ring from Lyra adorns my finger, and the thought of her makes me smile.
"Now, Silas, onto the, interesting, part of your costume." Says my stylist, winking to me as she pressed onto one of the spots on my outfit. Suddenly, it jumps to life, and a faint red smoke starts to pour out of all the holes. Lights flash from different buttons, and my stylist turns off the lights so that I can see how I will appear in the dark.
The blackness is complete for a moment, until the lights and smoke start again. The flashes only illuminate me for seconds at a time, highlighting my broad, muscular figure and obviously designed to shock the audience with the recurring lightshow. The red smoke offers up a dangerous, bloody haze in which surrounds me, closing off to anyone who attempts to break within my boundaries. The costume is both scary and mysterious – something the audience will want to see more of.
I smile. No, my stylist isn't stupid at all.
Arianne Joule, District Three. 15 years old.
What's the reason for this? I think to myself, mulling over my own thoughts and considering the different reasons that I have been put into this position. I believe that everything in life has a purpose, and so does being reaped. I'm only fifteen, and I'm not here to hurt people. There is nothing I can think of that I have done wrong to deserve a fait like this, but apparently, I have. I just haven't quite discovered it yet.
I would say the greatest part about the Capitol is the beauty, the colors, and the art. Since I have been raised in a home where I was typically alone, my parents working, you become accustomed to finding ways of entertainment and small hobbies. And for me? I love to draw, I love to paint, I love to create. You could call me a wild child I suppose. My parents say one thing, but if I don't like it, I won't do it.
You can call it arrogance – I call it the same thing.
As I look around at the items in my styling room, I can't help but wonder how they create it all. I'm lucky to invent something that fascinates me for more than an hour, but these people, they've created their own utopia and established themselves into it. It's unflawed. It's beautiful. It's wondrous. But the little perfection they have going on is mainly on the inside, but once you open the doors leading to the rest of the world you see how broken and masked out world really is.
The Capitol is playing within its own personal masquerade, and the districts are simply there to assist them in this part.
Finally, a man comes into the doors, trailing three similar looking people who I know as my prep team. They told me they are here to make me look my best and to perfect any flaws on me, and I supposed that's alright. If I'm being offered the blessing of perfection in my looks, then who am I to deny that? It's all happening for some reason; for some cause.
They help me stand and rid me of the thin paper robe they had given me earlier. I now stand nude before them, and they observe me like I'm their own piece of artwork. Clay to soon be molded.
"Alrighty, Kali, I want you to get her washed, Quill, get her waxed, and Klais, come work on her nail beds and hair. There's lots of work to be done people, let's go!" Announces my head stylist, and with that he sashays out of the room like a true diva. I giggle at his exaggerated walk, and then one of the ladies looks to me.
She's about half a foot away from me, but her scaly pink eyelashes still brush against my cheeks and flutter with ever blink she takes. I see bits of glitter fall to the floor each time, and I slowly lean away from her. A bit to close for my forte.
"Now, Arianne, I'm going to get you washed, so please, follow me!" She says lightly, her soft voice buzzing through my skull. I would have assumed her to sound chirpy, loud, and obnoxious; like most citizens here. But no, she sounds relatively normal, in comparison with her altered looks that is.
I follow her around a corner and into a room with a giant bathtub and shower arrangement, and she motions me to lie down in the water. I slowly dip my toe in, and find it to be perfectly warm, so I slide in with ease.
Then the pain starts.
Jets blast me from all angles, living my skin rugged and tight. Kali pours mixtures and concoctions over my skin and into the water, and they burn and scratch. I try to resist, telling her I'm in pain, but she simply responds with a light, "Then it must be working!"
By the time I think she's done, the water is suddenly not pleasant any longer, and the second she tells me I can get out I jump up as fast as possible.
But she's not down, and motions me over to a table once again. She uses brushes and sponges this time, tearing of layers of my skin and leaving me with a raw, aching feeling throughout my body.
Finally, she announces that her part is done, and it's time for me to be waxed. I don't know what waxing is, but by the time the fabric is being ripped off my legs, I'm well aware.
"Ouch!" I yell out, tears brimming in my eyes as the man continues to rip piece after piece off of my arms and legs. This is a pain like none I've ever felt before. How do the Capitolites do this on a weekly basis? Once this man has finished, he rubs yet another serum of some sort over my burning skin. While it burns on first touch. It immediately soothes the pain, and I breathe out in sweet relief.
Finally, the last part has come, and my nails are filed and cleaned, along with my hair. This part isn't bad, and it rather feels relaxing and peaceful. I lie my head back and close my eyes as the lady massages my scalp, and when she's done, I crave the feeling once again.
It feels like its been a meer half an hour, but apparently its been more than two. My stylist, March, burst into the room again, somewhat angry.
"We're running out of time! We still have to get her dressed and get her hair done, come on people lets go, go, go!" He stresses, and I'm immediately rushed out into another room containing clothes and other things of the like.
So far my visit has been eventful. Lots of things happen here, and while I hate the Games, the Capitol life isn't too bad. It's almost bittersweet. Bad things are happening, yes, but just look at the creations and the intelligence invested here. It's amazing.
But just because it's bittersweet doesn't really mean that it's more good than bad, and in fact, I believe it to be the opposite.
The bitter will always come before the sweet.
Kyle Montoya, District Ten. 15 years old.
The area in which we sit, awaiting the Chariot Rides to start, is very bright, and the look is all that manages to keep me smiling at the moment. On the inside? I feel dread. Pure, complete, and utter dread. I'm fifteen. I'm not cut out for a life winning the Games, especially with Careerers running around the place and people who are twice my size. I'm strong from working with the animals, but I can't kill. I can't use a sword. I'm just an average person, and I sure as hell wasn't made to be put into a death game.
The main thing on my mind this entire time has been Sunny, my beautiful, baby sister. She is the light in my world, and with her gone, it has all turned black. I'm scared, and I don't have the will to do anything anymore. All I can do now is learn all I can before the Games.
Tomorrow will be training, an even bigger fear of mine. I'm going to have to find an ally. After all, I can't really make it on my own. I'm strong and I'm smart, but that's about all I have going for me. I have minimal looks, but compared to the girls that came here? No ones eyes will scan over me for even a second. Besides, Careerers have always been raised to be beautiful, and this was proven once again when the District One girl arrived onscreen. Long blonde locks, gorgeous figure, the whole nine yards. Who would look at me when there's people here just about perfect?
I look around the stables, and one by one the tributes start to pour out and into the chariot areas. It's quiet, and most of the people stay by their partners or stick to their chariots. I look to my left and see a small, twelve year old girl having trouble getting onto her chariot, and suddenly my heart sinks. Could I kill someone like that? No.
I slowly step down from my seat, going over to the girl.
"Do you need some help, miss?" I ask her gently, smiling lightly so she knows I'm being genuine. She stares back for a moment, before looking down and nodding, and I push her up to the steps and she climbs them with ease from there. I smile lightly at her, and tip the brim of the cowboy hat that has been placed on me for my costume. They're advertising us as lasso-swinging cowboys and cowgirls. I think it's stupid. It doesn't really have anything to do with livestock.
"Thank you…" She mumbles to me, her dark curls falling into her small face. "What's ya' name, miss?" I ask her, and she slowly says "Ayvah." I nod, and hold out my hand.
"I'm Kyle. Nice to meet you." I say, and I beam. Not all tributes are mean and bad, so I want to show her that I can be good. I can be nice. It's not all about being vicious or bloodthirsty.
Suddenly, I think to myself, I want her as an ally. She's young, sure, but I can't stand to see her face this cruel game on her own. She reminds me of Sunny with her shy manners and little physique. I'll be the one to take in a little girl, and maybe I can find another ally to come with us.
"What do you say we form an alliance little lady?" I ask quietly, looking at the floor and making sure no one is listening. She looks at me, and slowly reaches her hand up, her small fingers lifted the edge of my hat.
"Lets do it." She says, and a smile begins to spread across her features.
Finally. Someone realizes that there's goodness here. We're not all monsters.
Now all I have to do is keep her safe throughout the Games.
And when you think about it?
It's not as easy as it sounds.
Alacris Prie, District Four. 18 years old.
Something about the way he sways and the way that his eyes look lost, as if elsewhere, causes me to assume that he may be drunk. His dark eyes bore into mine, and I can't help but wonder why he won't look somewhere else. Maybe he is drunk, or maybe he's just excited. But something else about the way a scowl stays planted across his features leads me to think that's not the case.
I'm a Careerer. Though, I never really planned on it. It's like an adventure to me. It's something that will test my abilities – show me if I'm good enough to survive something of the likes. Not to mention the money is a benefit, seeing I won't have much when my parents go. I guess it was my impulsive attitude that propelled me to the stage that day. But now that I'm here? I'm here to explore. To live. To take the adventure of being in the top ranks of the Games themselves. Why come here? Why not. It's just a big test. It's a test of agility and smarts – two things which I for one have.
"What are you wearing?" Asks the male from One. I believe his name's Beau, the one whose eyes have been locked on mine for the past ten minutes.
"Did you finally decide to speak?" I snap back, and he smirks at me.
"Oh honey, were you going to give me a chance?" He says, and cocks his head to the side, laughing to himself and relishing in the taunts he has planned for me. I roll my eyes, and he asks, "Something interesting up there?"
I jerk my head towards him, and say, "Nothing but your swelling ego."
He knots his eyebrows at me for a moment, and then laughs again.
"I like you, Four, I have a feeling were going to get along." He says, and a smile slowly spreads out over my face. He just has this aura that seems to trail around him, something of confidence and wit. I have a feeling he may end up being our leader, but that's not fully my decision to make.
Suddenly we're joined by his district partner, and mine, and upon seeing this, the district Two male trails over to us as well. The female for his district is gone, and I'm not quite sure where she's at. I suppose he's read my thoughts, because then he says, "She won't ally with, I'm pretty sure. I tried to speak to her on the way here, and she's just her own little army I guess. She doesn't want any allies. Oh? And she told me to deliver this message. " He says, and then flips us all off.
"Isn't she charming?" He says sarcastically, and I shrug."
"Alright, that's her loss. Now onto us. Are we going to be the Careerers this year?" I say, looking at everyone in the circle around me and expecting an answer.
"Well Honey, I'm with you, and as a bonus? I'm sticking that name on to you. You're welcome." Beau remarks, and then laughs at his own humor once again. The scowl is now gone, and it seems that a smirk has taken permanent residence there.
My district partner, Mason, nods, and puts his hand in the middle of us.
"I'm in, I'm not stupid." He says, and with that we all seem to put our hands in. It's our first show of unity, and I hope the others are watching. I hope that the District Two girl is watching too. I want her to see the adventure that she's missing. The adoring tale soon to be discovered.
It's all one big discovery after all.
Good thing I'm an explorer.
Cire "Vincent" Ellsworth, District Eight. 17 years old.
I like to think of life as a What goes around, comes around type of situation. Call it karma or call it lucky. I like to think of it as renewal of the past. And my past? It's dark, but that's not important right now. My goal is to help protect Leno, like he helped to protect me. My main focus above anything else really to be able to save him. I know he doesn't remember me anymore, and that's okay. It's my fault he can't remember anymore, and I've come to accept that.
"Cire, it's time, we've got to get you into the chariot." Says my stylist, maintaining his serious expression the whole time.
He's a rather focused man, awaiting every move I make before telling me what to do, and what not to.
I hop into my chariot and stare out across at my district partner, the sight of her make me uneasy and angry. I have a hate for females after what they've put me through in life. If I'm not attempting to seduce them, they have no value to me aside from sitting dead. This girl's only twelve, and while I should feel bad that she's been reaped, I don't. She cried like a baby at our reaping, and that was enough to put her under my intense dislike list.
But hey, I'm a volunteer, so that shouldn't matter right?
But I'm not the only ones. This year is a bit awkward volunteer wise, seeing how they came from the typical Careerers once again, (excluding the District Two female,) and districts Three, Five, me from Eight. It's unusual, but I guess the lack of tributes in the Capitol is now a pastime.
Lydia flashes me what I guess she thinks is a cute, toothy smile. Trying to be friendly. But it's all an act. I'm good at reading emotions, and this girl sets my nerves on edge. She's nothing like she says she is. She's acted oh-so-sweet this entire time, but if you look through her eyes, you can see through her lies. She's been staring into mine a lot lately, as if she's trying to decipher what it is I've got hidden behind them. But she'll never know. Know one will. That's my business, and the only person that will be aware of my intentions is myself.
Suddenly. I feel slightly warmer, and realize that my costume has been activated. Since I come from the textile and fabric district, my stylist decided I would be his canvas, and has dressed me in a full body suit that blossoms with colors and dyes throughout the entire ride. All Capitol favorites off course.
"It's time! Hold on, and smile!" Announces my prep team, and I wink at one of them, attempting to win her over with my charms. She serves no other purpose for me.
I'll make it up to you Leno. I think to myself, and as the doors to all the chariots open, I close my eyes, awaiting my next challenge in this game of deadly games.
Siren Lukasiak, District Seven. 13 years old.
"Good luck!" Call out my stylist, telling me to frown.
Now, you may find it odd that she would tell me to frown, but she's smart, and she's caught on to what I do. I have tourette syndrome – and it causes me to do the exact opposite of what I'm told. My stylist realized the moment I continued to disobey just about everything she instructed me to do – and so I'm glad that she is smart enough to tell me to do just the opposite of what it is she wants.
With a tug forward, I start to feel myself being pulled by the chariot, and I realize it's time. Before I can even put a disobedient smile on my face, the chariot has taken off and I'm amidst the chaos referred to as a Capitol audience.
The roar of people begin to chant "District Seven!" As our chariot rolls by, doing the same for each district as they pass. The lights are blinding, and the colors everywhere cause my eyes to hurt. I want to look away – so of course, I no longer can.
I smile as brightly as I can, and disobey once again by waving. I do all the thing she told me not to – just as she knew I would.
I look around at all the tributes – checking out their costumes and what they do to try and impress the audience.
Up ahead of me I see the District Six pair. The girls has long, tousled red hair that she keeps behind her. Her outfit is rather skimpy – obviously designed to show off her body and gain male sponsors. The boy however is more modest, and he seems to look like some sort of racecar driver. I've seen them on TV a few times, but never up close. He wears a helmet with the glasses up and a tight leather suit, covered in Capitol logos and stickers. It's typical to see here.
District One catches my attention, mainly because the girl is just so pretty. I stop and stare at her when she's on the TV, because she honestly is a classic beauty. Her stylist obviously had no trouble in playing that angle up for her. She wears a dress made of jewels – like a queen of her own castle. In every light that hits her she gleams and twinkles as if she's an actual star, and her blonde curls on the dark gems make it even more attractive. Her partner wears similar clothes, but it's obvious that everything is riding on her.
She waves and laughs and catches flowers, blowing kisses to the audience with every other call of her name. I decide to imitate her.
Finnegan gives me an odd look as I wave and suddenly become alive for the audience, and he soon joins me. Before I know it people are chanting, but it's not my name they yell.
"Finnegan!" They scream, and I see him widening his eyes and smiling even bigger.
They don't even notice me – it's not fair.
They finally ask me to flip my hair, and with that, I can't.
If I can't listen to what anyone's telling me, how can I possibly win?
I can't – because they told me too.
Garner Reed, District Nine. 16 years old.
Laughing at these people is so wonderful, because they have no idea just how idiotic they look to everyone else.
As my chariot soars through the square, I can't contain the laughter that escapes me. If they could hear me – I'd have a thousand and one insults to spill out at them. But they can't just yet, so I'm going to have to wait.
Being nice doesn't work. I would know, because I've tried every trick in the book. Throughout my life I've learned it's simply easier to take it than to give it – and that's exactly what I tend to do.
I intimidate people because I can. It's both entertaining and productive, and in the end, it benefits the person whom it should; me.
Why focus on other people? All that matters is that yourself is taken care of, and you don't need anyone to stand in your way. Take what you want and threaten those who try and stop you.
You have to become the bully to not become the victim, and that's just what I do.
I look over at Ayvah, who honestly disgusts me. She's so whiny about everything and even teasing her is no longer fun because I get a headache listening to her cry about it.
She definitely fragile – why bother wasting my time with her?
My goal for training is to find a new subject, and so I can simply bother them instead.
Who needs allies unless they'll do what I ask?
The stopping of my chariot brings me back to my senses, and I drop my waving hand that had been stuck in that position for the whole ride. I look up to see the president standing before a podium, and even from here I can see her signature red lips.
She clears her voice, and begins to speak in a strangly unaffected voice.
"Welcome, tributes, to the Capitol. The lovely heart of Panem!" She says, smiling bigger with each word.
"We would like to welcome you to the Capitol, and we hope your visit here will be great. We cannot wait to see how you all do in the Arena, and in the end, we cannot wait to see who emerges victorious!" She exclaims, and the audience burst out in applause. I chuckle at her – she's so…I can't even describe it. She just seems like she's trying way to hard.
She says a few more things, but I don't listen.
Before I know it, my chariot has started to move again, and the conclusion of the ride nears with the stables up ahead. We are taken into the Training Center, which will be our new home until we get into the Games.
The thought causes me to shiver. I'm tough, but I still don't want to think about dying.
As we pull through and she gates shut behind us, the sounds of the audience outside immediately pulls me out of my thoughts. They still scream for us, and they still chant outside.
The Capitol seems to hold the power, but it seems like the citizens hold much more power than they can see. If they're unhappy, then the nation is changed.
I just hope that they're unhappy seeing me die – because I'm terrified to let that happen.
But after all – they say it's just a game in the end.
YAYAYAYAY IM DONE
Okay well first off I'm so sorry this took so long to update!
I've been having some problems with tributes and writers block and my life and it just dragged on for far to long but I'm finally done! :D
Thanks for reading and this is the conclusion of all the tributes ! ;D
Also, the blog is up, so check it out! The link is on my profile. :P
So, would you mind answering these questions? :O
Which tributes stand out from the blog?
Which tributes do you like the most so far?
I hope you liked this chapter and please review!
Also, I'm starting another SYOT soon, and if you're interested in submitting please PM me! :D
Alrighty then – another update will come much sooner than this one, I promise.
Until then! :P