The months leading up to the Games are utterly consumed by speculation.

In the Capital, television talk shows will be devoted to dissecting supposed patterns in Arena construction. Gamemakers will be dragged into studio after studio to read the same vague, scripted lines on the upcoming event.

Fans will argue endlessly, online and in person, over such scintillating topics as which designer will be assigned to which district, and which Gamemaker will have designed the next Arena.

Old favorites will be brought up. People will gush over Celeste Braus's gorgeous wastelands and scenic forests, while others will decry her infamous reluctance to use traditional methods to move the action along.

Piper Levaunte's raw brutality will be brought up in response. The One Day Game will be discussed at length, opinions divided clearly along age lines. As Piper herself had anticipated, one oft cited interview will attest. Opinions will be further divided and subdivided with the inclusion of that and other such tidbits of information, which, some will argue, is exactly the point of releasing such statements.

A select few will quietly discuss newcomer Abdias Grant and his hauntingly alien landscapes. He will not have been around long enough to incite much controversy, and these discussions will be brandied about as an example of how true fans should conduct themselves.

Approximately no one will discuss the ever expanding budget and the strains it puts on the lower class, most likely because the lower class is kept carefully out of sight. And Capitol citizens, much like infants, lack the mental capacity to believe in what they cannot see.

Scattered about the Districts one can find a much greater variety of reactions to the impending event.

Districts One and Two will share a general sense of excited anticipation of a rather more purposeful nature than that of the Capitol. Speculation will be rife, strategy discussed, and training amped up as the deadline draws nearer. Rivalries will form over who will be the first to volunteer. Unofficial rules will be set and promptly broken, along with several bones. Ever increasing numbers of children aged 12 through 18 will suffer mysterious accidents. Previous Victors will be praised openly. Failure and the consequences thereof will not be spoken of.

Districts Three and Four will be slightly more subdued than their neighbors. Discussions will be hushed, expressions somber, and training quiet and desperate. Victors will walk the streets, eyes dark and expressions weary. No one will dare approach them.

Districts Five through Twelve will pretend to ignore the Games for as long as they can. How long the charade lasts varies on a personal level, though many will go to great pains to preserve it. Victors and Failures alike are ignored. Tongues are held. Tears are not shed; at least, not where anyone could see them.

If there is anger, it is tucked carefully away beneath a layer of despair.

And for all the many shades of anticipation, the Nation of Panem waits with bated breath, united in its anticipation for the most significant event of the year.

For this.

Welcome, dear Nation, to the 31st Annual Hunger Games!

AN: Form on my profile, but feel free to use whatever form you feel like. I don't much care. Also note that if you only give me a few words of personality that I am going to feel free to make whatever I want out of the character. And I am predisposed towards writing total dorks, so. And finally, do try to give me characters that make sense given their background and economic status. I will not be accepting anyone who knows how to use a weapon for inexplicable reasons. An acceptable reason for a D12 knowing how to fight is involvement in organized crime. A bit of hand to hand roughly worked out between friends because they know that there's a chance they could be Reaped. Etc. Don't give me someone who knows how to use a bow unless you can explain why.