Hello everyone and welcome to this SYOT. I want to do this by the rules, which means that the form for this one is on my profile and that I only accept tributes by PM. Here's a prologue of sorts. Rules are stated down below.

Anyway, enjoy, review and please submit.

Seasons Changing - The 51st Hunger Games

Chapter one

Marcus Spark was glad he could finally leave the hovercraft that had brought him here. He would of course never admit it when called on, but he had no love of flying, at all. It made him feel sick and, if it was really bad, he also had to throw up. Fortunately no such thing had occurred today and now this ordeal was behind him, at least until the end of the day. Now he would forget about it all and simply feast his eyes on his very own masterpiece: the arena for the 51st Annual Hunger Games.

He had worked on this arena for a year, had missed sleep over it and had almost suffered several nervous breakdowns over it as the deadline drew closer and it started to look like they weren't going to make it. But they had made it and now here he was, drinking in the sight of it. Every minute of the preparation had been worth it. It was perfect.

'Are you pleased, sir?' The high, annoyingly breathless voice of Amelia Glitter interrupted his musings. She was one of the junior assistants and she irritated him to no end. If he had a say in it, her career would be short-lived, very short-lived. She always reminded him of an overenthusiastic puppy begging to be allowed to fetch her master's stick. All that missed in the picture was the tongue hanging out of her mouth and the wagging tail and Marcus half expected for her to start doing that soon anyway.

'I haven't seen enough yet to declare myself pleased,' he told the girl dismissively. Being Head Gamemaker was the job he had dreamed about for years, but he could have done without the responsibility of dealing with all these young assistants he had been assigned. They seemed to be underestimating the importance of the Hunger Games and its preparations. All they wanted was a good show, but there was so much more to it and Marcus failed at getting them to see that. Bloody idiots.

'Didn't you have a tour organised for me?' he demanded when she just kept looking at him expectantly. Who was it again that had called this girl intelligent?

She nodded so fervently that Marcus might have feared her head might fall off, if he had actually cared about that, which he didn't. 'Yes, sir. Will you just follow me then, sir?'

She didn't even wait for an answer that question, so eager was she to show him around. Marcus chose not to remind her that he had already seen every inch of this arena on computer screens, in simulations and camera recordings. As a result of that he probably knew more about the arena than she did, a lot more. But he was of the opinion that he needed to see it for himself, which was why he had insisted on this visit. The real thing was always different from what the cameras could show you. He needed to see it all for himself before he would declare himself satisfied with his work.

The arena was of course far too big to explore completely, if you were trying to do it all in one day like Marcus was at least. After the Games, he promised himself, he would come back here and take some days to visit every place, to fully admire it the way it was meant to. Because this was more than just an arena built for some annoying, whimpering tributes to die in. Oh, it was so much more. It wasn't just a tool, it was a work of art.

But for now he had to stick to the main routes and that was enough to get a decent impression of what this place really was. He at least had had the sense to wear sensible shoes, something Amelia had completely forgotten about. Her high heels looked highly uncomfortable to him (but then, all high heels did. How women could get around on those things was a complete miracle to him) and they kept sinking away in the mud, but she didn't complain, not even once. She just walked in front of him, her pink, almost purple, hair an easy beacon for him to follow, as she chattered on about the booby-traps and the mutts that would be released in the arena once the Games had started. Since he was the one that had come up with aforementioned booby-traps and mutts that was rather annoying to listen to. He blocked her mindless chatter out almost immediately, instead focusing on the arena itself.

And he wasn't disappointed with the way it had all turned out. There were some minor details that needed seeing to, but he knew he had done well. So, at the end of the day he declared himself satisfied (he could almost see Amelia's non-existent tail wagging as he said that) and returned to the Capitol, feeling altogether pleased with himself. And tomorrow it would be reapings and he would see the faces of the tributes that had the honour of going into his arena. He couldn't wait.

Here's the prologue. Now it's up to you to provide me with tributes. I do, however, have some rules.

1. NO Mary-Sues and NO Gary-Sues. No one is perfect and everyone has flaws. Make your tribute realistic and give them interesting back-stories. Real people have them and so do tributes.

2. You can submit as many as you like, but I love details. I'd rather have one very well written tribute than three rushed ones. And I don't care if you need more than one PM to send them to me, at all.

3. Keep them realistic. Outer districts are unlikely to have much volunteers, just as the Career ones will have very little (or not one) reaped tributes.

4. This is not first come, first serve, but if your tribute is good, you're probably in. The list will go up on my profile as soon as i start receiving triutes.

5. You may reserve spots, but do fill them within the week or the reservation is cancelled.

Okay, that were a lot of rules, so here are a few promises:

1. I will finish this story.

2. As soon as a district is filled, I'll write the reaping, so hopefully I'll be able to start soon.