Zenobia Spectral (DIstrict 6 Escort)
"I still don't understand why, with all of the other absolutely beautiful, picture perfect locations they had to choose from, your Mayor decided to build your District's new Hall of Justice in such an, unfortunate location."
"Well, it's like I told you when they broke ground a couple of years back, they picked this specific location because of its historical significance to the district. The fact that it's also just a stone's throw away from the new train station, just made the decision that much easier for them to justify to the general public."
"And I get all that. I may not fully understand how, let alone why, this frumpy, dumpy part of town was ever so important to you people, but I do understand that it was.
"However, my ability to understand that, despite how it may look and smell now, this part of the district is somehow historically significant, still doesn't explain why, in God's name, it was built right next door to a hovercraft engine production plant."
"That's…..That's a little harder for me to explain honestly. Especially once you take into consideration the fact that they waited until AFTER they were nearly half done building the new Hall to stop the plants impending relocation and bring it back online.
"I mean, I'm almost positive that they had their reasons for doing so. And I'm just as sure that those reasons are just as sensible and logical as one would expect. But that doesn't mean anyone with knowledge of them is in any sort of rush to share them with me."
"And as a result, you lack a satisfactory answer as to why your mayor decided to build the single most important building in his district next to what I'm almost positive is the single loudest building in all of creation."
"Come on Zenobia, there's no reason to be like that. Especially since you and I both know there are at least two incredibly good reasons why that's not true."
"Ok. I'm almost positive I'm going to regret this eventually, but I'll go ahead and bite now if only to help pass the time.
"Just what are those two reasons Zefram?"
"Well, the first one is a bit of a no-brainer in that it's I've never given you anything even remotely close to a satisfactory answer in the entire time we've worked together."
Well, I hate to admit this, but it's hard for me to argue with that logic.
"And the second, and in my opinion, much more important factor, is that the machines whose noise you've been complaining about have been shut down the entire time you've been here.
"I mean seriously Zenobia, if you think this is loud I'm not sure you'd be able to survive being around here when these factories are going full blast."
"And with any luck, neither of us will ever have to find out the answer to that question either.
"Heck, the only reason I'd ever even have to worry about it is if one of us pulls our head out of our ass long enough to pull off the one miracle in this life that always seems to be, regardless of how hard we might try, unequivocally out of our collective reach."
I get the feeling that some of that stuff towards the end came off sounding significantly more bitchy and ungrateful than I honestly meant for it too, especially that part at the end about pulling heads out of asses.
I mean, it's not that I don't blame Zefram for his continued failures to give me a victor, which may well be the one thing I want most in this world, because I unequivocally do. But that doesn't mean that I don't fully realize and accept the very real fact that I, and I absolutely loathe having to admit this, even if it is just to myself, deserve a fair share of the blame for at least some our recent run of bad luck.
Unfortunately, more so for my very real, if not just slightly insane, desire for everyone to like me than anything more serious, I'm not given the time to say any of this to Zefram at this particular moment. Because within just a few seconds of the words leaving my mouth, and an even shorter time from the time my brain finally catching up and finishes processing the multitude of ways Zefram, or anyone that just happened to be within earshot, could have possibly interpreted them, I find myself being interrupted by the soft, almost unhearable chime of bells that is supposed to signal the official beginning of this year's reaping broadcast.
And from the second I hear that sound I, as well as the world around me, is slowly but surely inundated with a seemingly unending influx of movement and sound as everyone in the Hall, as well as the few dozen or so people that had been hold up just outside the main foyers fifteen or so exit doors enjoying the unseasonably mild midday summer sun, run all over the place like lunes in a mostly futile, though not entirely unentertaining, attempt to get to wherever it is they're supposed to be as quickly and unobtrusively as humanly possible.
But just like everything else in my life, or more specifically during my career as an escort, that's ever been even the least bit fun or entertaining, this comical explosion of unexpected joy doesn't seem to last nearly as long as I'd like. And before I even really get the chance to start enjoying this cherished little moment of fun, most of it has dried up as the last few stragglers finally get around to finding out just where it was they're supposed to be while the once mind-blowingly intoxicating hum of activity is slowly but surely replaced by the mind-numbingly dull and pretentious voice of District Six's plodding dinosaur of a mayor. And with that being the case, it takes all of five or so seconds for my mind to start to wonder as I settle in for what I'm sure will be yet another fifteen or so minute speeches by a man with a voice so monotone and boring that I'm pretty sure it could put the dead to sleep.
"...But I'm sure none of you are all that interested in listening to a sentimental old man babble on about the past, not when we have such a bright and entertaining future to look forward to.
"Of course the only way for us to enjoy that future is for everyone to get a move on and catch up with it before it passes us by. And as I'm sure you all know by now, there's only one woman in all of Panem that I trust to guide us into the great unknown that is our future. And that woman is the one….The only…..Zenobia Spectral!"
I'm not anywhere close to being ready when he finally announces my name, more so because he got around to doing so in a fraction of the time I've become accustomed to him taking than anything else, and it takes me almost a full minute to collect my thoughts, not to mention beat down an unexpected bout of emotional butterflies, before I'm finally ready to respond to the mayor's introduction. And it's a good thing too, because not only has my unexpected delay allowed the crowd to somehow find a way to slip even further into the throes of apathy than normal, but it also afforded the mayor the chance to collect himself just enough that he appeared to have been mere seconds away from calling for me a second time, which would have been nothing short of a kiss of death for my career, just seconds before I come bounding out the Hall's main entrance and snatch the microphone clean out of his unsuspecting hands with a playfully flirty smile and a wink.
"Sorry to have kept you all waiting like this, but as I'm sure you can imagine it's almost impossible to find your way around inside that monolithic monument your kind and loving mayor oh so graciously built to your districts glory.
"I mean seriously, it was embarrassing enough that I forgot that your mayor moved the Hall in the first place, mainly because I spent the better part of an hour wandering around the old Hall trying to find my dressing room, but to get myself so turned around inside the new building that I was literally wandering around the basement like some sort of lost puppy, is just too much for me to bear.
"And so, with that in mind, and being fully aware that I'm obviously on the verge of losing what few marbles I have left, I've decided that you're just going to have to move the Hall of Justice back to its previous location so I can avoid feeling like a silly old lady. Especially since I'm not that much older than most of the tributes I've escorted."
I'm almost positive that was far and away my single worst attempt at making a joke in my incredibly long and sad history of bad joke attempts. And even though the lameness of the joke doesn't stop the vast majority of the crowd from going out of their way to respond to it by showering me with a resounding chorus of what I can only assume are incredibly forced and undeserved laughs, it does manage to embarrass the ever-loving hell out of me.
And when you couple that with the fact that its only saving graces, that I'm entirely to professional to let my personal embarrassment shine through, coupled with my ability to use the small break provided by the crowds laughter to finish collecting and centering myself before diving head first into the nitty-gritty of my job that is selecting my tributes, does nothing to overshadow the fact that I'm embarrassed by what I said. Which to me makes this is, by far, the single most embarrassing moment of my entire life.
Of course, I also know I can't afford to let my personal embarrassment, no matter how monumental and upsetting an issue I believe it to be, distract me from what it is I'm supposed to be doing. So even though it's going to damn near kill me to do so, I have to find a way to force myself to ignore it until I have the time to deal with it appropriately.
So that's exactly what I do. And by the time the crowd's laughter finally starts to fade into the oblivion from whence it came, I've already carefully reapplied the same fun and flirty grin I had plastered on my face when I took the stage and steeled myself towards the all-important task of selecting my newest tributes. After I find a way to thank the crowd for taking the time to laugh at my horrendously unfunny god awful joke that is.
"You know, I always wondered if I missed my true calling as a standup comedian, and judging by your response to my last joke, I'm starting to think that the answer to that question may very well be a resounding yes. But I'm sure that none of you are really all that interested in hearing me lament what might have been, at least not when we have something that's significantly more important and enjoyable to look forward too.
"I'm speaking of course of the moment that everyone in this square, as well as watching these events from across the breadth of this great nation, has been waiting all year to celebrate. An event so awe-inspiring and amazing, that even someone as well-bred and articulate as me has trouble putting into words just how unabashedly spectacular it truly is to watch as one exceptionally brave and courageous young man steps forward to stand beside one equally brave and heroic young woman against the unquenchable flames of chaos and disorder that continuously threaten to engulf our great nation.
"Of course the only way for those two brave young people to do all of those incredibly brave and selfless things, is for me to select them for the honor of doing so. And since the only way I can do that is by shutting up and kicking this reaping into high gear, I guess that's exactly what I'm going to have to do. Right after I say this one last thing.
"Good people of Panem, it is my unimaginable pleasure to officially declare to you, as well as all of the people here in District Six, that our quest to crown the champion of this, the One Hundred and Fifth Annual Hunger Games, has officially begun!"
It takes the crowd all of a fraction of a second from the time I stop talking to erupt in what I'm fairly confident is the single loudest response to something as mundane and uninteresting, at least in a district that up to this point has been morally opposed to providing me with a volunteer, that I've ever heard in my admittedly short and uninteresting career. The fact that their unexpectedly loud and boisterous response also means that I just might have my first ever opportunity to turn my crowds outpouring of support into a boost in Capitol support slash popularity, which by extension should lead to a boost in overall survivability, for my as of yet still to be selected tributes, just makes this unexpected little treat that much sweeter and more enjoyable.
Of course, my ability to capitalize on any of this is directly tied to my ability to, as my favorite instructor back at the escort academy would say, strike while the iron is hot. The fact that I have to do so while also finding a way to avoid reaping yet another of the incredibly dull and listless tributes this district has gone out of its way to become synonymous with, just serves to make the very idea of doing so all the more challenging.
But I know I can't let the seemingly undoable and monumental nature of my task stop me from doing everything in my power to pull it off. So that's what I decide to do, and within a couple of seconds of my deciding this, and at the very most a minute and a half since I first stopped talking and declared the reaping to have begun, I ever so gracefully glide around the left edge of my podium and saunter across the stage in the direction of the pink stained glass reaping ball that's currently filled to bursting with mint-green colored slips of paper that have the names of every lovely young lady of reaping age in my district scribbled within.
And once I'm finally in front of the ball, which somehow manages to feel like it took me both an absolute eternity yet amazingly no time at all, I'm left with the simple yet monumental task of delicately dipping my hand into the very heart of the oddly shaped and unsteady looking mountain of slips, where I do my best to snatch up the slip that had been previously resting in the absolute center of the pile, before gingerly yanking myself free and seductively sauntering back behind my podium with a mischievous grin on my face as the crowd showers me with yet another outpouring of highly unexpected but still very welcomed applause.
"You know something, as hard as it may be to imagine, I don't think I'll ever be able to get tired of this moment. The palpable anticipation that's so think you can't even cut with a knife, coupled with the low and constant hum of energy from the crowd as I take my place behind the podium and read off the name of OUR newest tribute scribbled within, is by far the single most intoxicatingly enjoyable thing in the world.
"And it's with that, oh so intoxicating energy flowing through my veins that I'm excited to announce that the name of District Six's newest female tribute it…..Reid Stitchell!"
For the third time today I find myself being absolutely floored by the sheer volume of the crowd's entirely unexpected reaction to something I said, and even though I know I should probably do my best to temper my expectations, if only because history has given me every indication that not doing so is incredibly dangerous to my mental health, I can't seem to stop myself from doing so anyway.
But much like that oh so brief and enjoyable moment of fun from the start of the reaping, I'm only allowed to enjoy this incredibly liberating moment of unrestrained optimism for about thirty seconds before I, and to a lesser extent the crowd, finally realize that Reid doesn't seem to be nearly as excited about the fact that she was just reaped as the rest of us are. In fact, it takes her another minute and a half to even start moving towards the center aisle, and the only reason I know that it's her that's actually doing the moving is because it would be impossible for anyone other than a recently reaped tribute to warrant the massive no-man's-land that's currently forming around the mover.
And sure enough, a few seconds later, said moving exclusion zone finally stumbles out of the sixteen-year-old girl's section and affords everyone in Panem with their first look at the young lady I was hoping would be my first ever Hunger Games victor. And it's in that moment that any lingering hopes I might have had of this actually being my year are snuffed out as I'm forced to admit to myself that I couldn't possibly have picked a shittier looking female tribute if I'd tried.
I mean seriously, the one thing I had to avoid doing, literally the only thing, was find a way to not reap an absolute train wreck of a tribute. Hell, if I didn't know any better, and have a half-dozen years of personal experience that proves otherwise to fall back on, I'd think I might have just done the impossible and picked myself out that one in a zillion tribute that's not only completely and totally un-marketable, which makes her all but impossible to sell to all but the cheapest and most foolhardy of sponsors, but also has a less than zero percent chance of making it past the bloodbath.
After all, who in their right mind would be willing to waste their money sponsoring a teenage girl that looks like a little boy? And I don't mean that in jest or anything, Reid, my sixteen-year-old FEMALE tribute, looks more like a ten-year-old boy than she does any sort of girl. Almost everything about her, from the undeniably boyish way she carries herself to her entirely nonexistent bust and slightly malnourished, curve deprived body, practically screams boy. Hell, if it wasn't for her slightly diminutive height and willowy thin frame, coupled with head of shoulder length, glossy dark black hair and soft, slightly feminine looking face that damn near perfectly compliment her oh so pretty and soft, dark-brown doe-like eyes, I'd be willing to swear on my life that Reid was, in fact, a boy.
Which means that the only chance in hell that poor Reid has, and this is admittedly about as small and unlikely a long shot as a tribute can possibly have, is for her to wow the crowd with enough wit and charm that they're willing to overlook the fact that she doesn't look like she'd last more than a half a second in anything that even remotely resembles an honest to god fight. And unfortunately for her, as long as the look of passive acceptance mixed with utter disdain currently etched on her face is any indication, she just might have even less wit and charm then she does physical appeal.
Of course the only way that I'll be able to know that for sure is to talk to her, and I guess there's no better time to do that then right now.
So….Here goes nothing I guess…..
"Welcome my dear Reid, welcome!
"My name, as I'm sure you probably already know, is Zenobia Spectral. And it is my singular honor to not only be the first person from the Capitol to make your acquaintance, but to also be the first person to congratulate you on being the oh so lucky recipient of the immense honor of being selected to compete in this year's Hunger Games."
"Thank you very much for that incredibly kind and welcoming greeting Zenobia.
"And while I'm not exactly sure the two of us are going to see eye-to-eye on that whole lucky to have been chosen for this honor thing, I am looking forward to spending the next week or so working with and getting to know both you and Zefram, not to mention all of the other cool and interesting tributes and Capitol citizens."
"Well would you look at that, not only is Reid easily one of the most attractive young ladies I've ever met, but she's got the manners and articulate flair to prove she's so much more than just another pretty face."
"You're entirely too kind Zenobia."
"Well thank you for saying that Reid. And I want you to know that I really do appreciate the fact that you're willing to take time out of your interview to say something so kind and complimentary about me.
"Unfortunately your willingness to do so has left us short of time, which means that I'm only going to be able to ask you one or two more questions before we have to move on and pick you out a partner."
"I understand that you've got a schedule to keep so that's completely fine with me."
"Fantastic. So, I guess I'll go ahead and start, and most likely end, by asking you the one question almost no one ever wants to answer.
"What is it that you're most looking forward to doing in the Capitol now that you're officially a Hunger Games tribute Reid?"
"Well, to be honest, there's only ever been one thing in life I've ever been truly fascinated by, and I happen to think that the Hunger Games is the absolute perfect place for me to indulge in my curiosity on this subject in a way that might finally satisfy it as well."
"Oh, you see, now you've piqued my interest, Reid. I mean, I could wait until your post-training interview with Celine to find out what this oh so fascinating thing is, but I've never been all that good at waiting. So I guess that means I'm just going to have to beg you to tell me what it is despite the fact that we're running dangerously short on time."
"Well, I mean if you really want me to answer that question now, I suppose I can do so. Heck, I might even be able to do so in a relatively quick and straightforward manner. Since we're running so short on time and all that."
"In that case, I insist that you answer my question so I can satiate my curiosity on the subject now instead of having to wait a whole extra week to do so."
"Ok then, since you insist.
"So, the thing is, I've always been absolutely fascinated by death. Or I guess more specifically, I've always been fascinated by the idea of death. And it's not just the end result of the act that fascinates me in such a deep and intimately personal way, but anything and everything about it. From the very second a person realizes that their death is a very real possibility, to the moment the last vestiges of hope, their last fleeting remnants of life, bleed out of their pleading eyes and fear gripped hearts, to all of the subtle and unexpected little moments in between, is far and away the single most intoxicating thing in the entire world as far as I'm concerned."
See, I knew it. I may not have the slightest clue as to how or why I knew it, but I knew. From the moment the question slipped past my lips to the second the first words of her response slipped past hers, I knew I had made a mistake by giving her a chance to expand on what she had been talking about. Because now, even though Reid is the only one that said any of those incredibly morbid and disturbing things, I can almost guarantee that everyone that's even remotely connected to her, myself included, is going to be saddled with the uncomfortable baggage associated with her horrendously ill-timed statement.
"Well, I think it's pretty safe for me to say that's the first time I've ever heard someone talk so openly and affectionately about such an….Uncomfortable topic. And while I can't guarantee that you'll have the chance to explore your fascination with death as in-depth as you might like, I do believe that you will get the chance to learn at least a little bit about it.
"But that will have to wait for another time. Right now I need to get my derriere in gear and find you a partner. And while I do that I think it would be a great idea for the crowd to show you just how much they appreciate and value the incredibly brave and heroic sacrifice you're about to make on their behalf."
I'm honestly not expecting all that much in the way of response to my all to robotic and uninspired sounding prompt, especially after what Reid said. But to the crowd's credit, as well as my complete and utter surprise, they decide to go out of their way to give Reid a congratulatory round of applause befitting a young woman who actually deserves to win the Games. And after about thirty or so seconds of being on the receiving end of a near constant shower of praise, I lead Reid across the stage to her assigned place in front of the girl's ball before quickly sauntering to the other side of the stage, in the direction of the navy-blue colored stained glass boy's reaping ball, when I find myself skidding to a very sudden and unexpected stop mere inches away from my intended goal.
And it's in those first few fleeting moments after my unplanned little stop, when my mind is doing everything it can to will my heart and my feet back into action, that I'm forced to admit something to myself I never dreamed I'd ever even have to contemplate admitting. I have to admit, even if it is only to myself, that I'm absolutely terrified by the idea of having to reap my other tribute. And it's just not the very real possibility that I could end up reaping a male version of Reid, which seems like a near certainty based on my track record of reaping male tributes that feel like nothing more than a mirror image of my already reaped female tribute, that's got me so frightened. I mean, that is a huge part of it, maybe even as much as forty-nine or so percent, but it's the possibility that I might somehow find a way to pick a male tribute that's even worse than Reid, that's got me trembling in the middle of the stage in a pair of ruby studded eight-thousand dollar heels.
But much like it was with my earlier embarrassment, I know full well I can ill afford to let my fear stop me from doing my job. So after maybe ten or so seconds of standing there pretending to study the small ocean of rich plum-colored slips of paper resting with the boy's ball, I reach out with my still uncertain and trembling hand and quickly snatch up the first slip my unsteady fingers happen to touch, before quickly scurrying back behind my podium and doing everything within my power to calm myself down before I have to read the name of my newest tribute.
"And the exceedingly heroic young man that's been selected to represent all of you alongside the incredibly inquisitive Reid in this year's Hunger Games is…..Axel Bishop!"
I spend the first few seconds after reading Axle's name trying to prepare myself for any one of the seemingly endless number of absolutely terrible outcomes, any one of which could come swooping in at any moment without even the slightest hint that something could possibly be amiss, when all of the sudden I find myself, or more specifically my ears, being assaulted by one of the few disasters I never even considered. Of course, I'm referring to the slow but steady chorus of mind-numbingly painful screams that are currently rising up from somewhere on the far side of the rope line that's currently dividing the reaping eligible boys from their families as well as the district proper.
Naturally this unexpected bout of screaming continues on for nearly a full minute, with the occasional short and intermittent, but still very welcome, break mixed in so that the screamer can take in more air before belting out yet another round, when someone else in the crowd finally answers my unspoken prayer and finally manages to find a way to muffle, though not entirely silence, the screamer just seconds before the poor young man whose selection as a tribute is what forced all of us to listen to this crap in the first place, comes strolling out of the sixteen-year-old boy's section with a look of unfettered concern all but bleeding out of his surprisingly enchanting dark-green eyes.
And it's in that moments, as well as over the next few seconds, as I watch Axle while he slowly but confidently makes his way towards the stage with wide but measured steps and a slightly frightened but somehow determined look plastered on his face, which stands in stark contrast to the one still bleeding out of his eyes, that I'm finally afforded the opportunity to give him the in-depth once over that his appearance, as well as demeanor, never mind my job description, demands that I give him.
And what a once over it ends up being. I mean, I'm not normally one to pat myself on the back for getting lucky while doing my job, but if there was ever a time for me to go ahead and buck tradition by picking a tribute that appears to be the damn near polar opposite of my already selected tribute, this was it. And boy oh boy there must be someone up there looking out for little old me, because I just pulled a rabbit out my hat with Axle.
Because not only is he incredibly handsome, at least by the significantly more rugged and unpredictable standards of his home district, but he also appears to have the height and body type, the latter of which pairs off almost perfectly with his noticeably obvious and functional looking muscles, to make him into a force in the arena. And when you couple that with his previously mentioned mesmerizing dark-green eyes, nearly flawless looking sun-kissed bronze skin, and his chin-length light-blonde hair, and you've got yourself a tribute that, at least as far as looks are concerned, really is the antithesis of his partner in nearly every way imaginable.
I just hope he's not some sort of closet freak that's obsessed with something that's better left ignored like she is too.
Well, I guess this is as good a time as any to find out…...
"Well now, it looks like this just might be my lucky day after all. I mean, it's not every day I get the chance to meet a young man who looks even half as good as Axle does. The fact that I get to spend the next week working side by side with him, as well as his absolutely irresistible face, is just the icing on the cake.
"But I'm getting just a little bit ahead of myself aren't I? I mean, I haven't even shaken his hand, let alone introduced him to the rest of Panem, and I'm already trying to find a way to squeeze every possible second I can possibly spend with him, out of him…."
"That's quite alright with me Ms. Spectral. As a matter of fact, I actually quite like the idea of working as closely with you as I possibly can over the next few days."
"Oh, that's very kind of you to say, dear. And for the record, as I've said a million times before, I'm quite alright with you, and everyone else for that matter, calling me Zenobia. Being called Ms. Spectral has always made me feel so old and that's one thing that I absolutely hate."
"Well, the last thing I want is for someone that's as young, vibrant and beautiful as you are to feel old Zenobia. So I guess I'll just have to go ahead and remember to call you by your first name instead."
"Would you all get a load of this young man. Not only is he one stunningly handsome young man, but he's also exceptionally kind and well-mannered. Throw in the fact that he's got the charm, not to mention the wherewithal to use it, that even the suavest of men can only dream of having, and you've got yourself one hell of a tribute.
"But I'm not out here just to be swept off my feet by prince charming. No, I'm also here to give said prince, should I get lucky like I did today and actually meet him, a chance to introduce himself to the rest of Panem. But seeing as everyone already knows that he's polite, articulate, swarthy, and just a little bit on the handsome side, I guess the only thing left for him to reveal would be something cool or interesting about himself.
"So Axle, do you feel up to doing that or are you content to hold onto that air of mystery for a bit longer and leave things the way they are?"
"Well, considering that I don't have anything to share that's even half as unexpected and shocking as the stuff my new partner Reid shared, along with the fact that I'm not nearly as deep and mysterious a person as I would like to be, I think it's better for me to keep the few secrets I do have tucked away in my back pocket for a later time.
"After all, I still have to navigate my way through a second interview, and I'm not sure I can do that if I share all my secrets now."
"And I respect that Axle. I mean sure, the people in the Capitol might be a little sore at the thought of having to wait to learn more about you, but I absolutely love a man that's willing to hold a few things back. Because there's nothing in this world, not a single thing, that's sexier to me than a man with just a hint of mystery about him….
"Of course there will be plenty of time for me to show you just how irresistible I find a man like that over the coming weeks. Right now is all about you, or more specifically, you and your new district partner Reid, and I think it's past time for all of us to show you just how amazing we think the both of you really are.
"And so, with that in mind, I think it's time for all of us here in Six to get on our feet and show the exceedingly handsome and mysterious Axel Bishop, as well as his incredibly unique partner, the one, and only Reid Stitchell, just how much we all love and support them!
"And while we do, I'd also like to take a moment to wish all of you here in Six, as well as everyone watching across the breadth of Panem, a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Axel Bishop-16(D6M)
"Was it really necessary for you to go out of your way to shamelessly flirt with your escort on national t.v. Axle?"
"And what would you have had me do instead big brother? Would you have had me stand there like a statue and refuse to answer her questions, or maybe you would have preferred that I do something more along the lines of what Reid did?"
"I don't know what I would have had you do Axle, but anything, with the obvious exception of whatever in the hell it was the Reid thought she was trying to pull, would have been better than standing there and dry heaving while my baby brother shamelessly flirted with a woman that's got to be at least ten years older than him."
"Yeah, but her age is one of the things that makes her so attractive Braker. Because not only does she look spectacular for her age, but she's got the experience, coupled with that oh so tantalizing air of sophistication, that makes a woman like her absolutely irresistible."
I think I just might have finally caught my big brother off guard with that last statement. After almost twelve years of trying every trick in the book, along with quite a few that weren't in the book, to trip up the family genius and I finally manage to do it with what might be the most unexpected and disturbing statement I've ever made.
It's just to bad that no one else was here to see me in what just might be my first and only moment of familial triumph.
"You're not….You're not being serious right now are you Axle?"
"Come on Braker, you know me better than that.
"Look, I'm at just as big a loss for why I decided to flirt with Zenobia as you are. But I can't deny that doing so ended up working so much better than I ever dared to hope it would."
"So now you're saying it was all an act?"
"Of course it was all an act, Braker."
"Do you….Do you honestly expect me, let alone anyone else, to believe that all of that seemingly effortless and enjoyable flirting was nothing more than a con game?"
"Honestly, I don't really care if anyone else believes that's it true as long as YOU KNOW that it's true. Heck, it might even end up being better for me if no one else does believe it because being seen as the hopeless romantic that fell in love with his escort might just end up endearing me to a couple of Capitol sponsors."
"I'm not….I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at with that Axle."
"Oh for the love of. You know Braker, for being the smartest one in the family you sure do seem to have a lot of trouble making heads or tails of common sense sometimes."
"Only when it comes to you and your rather unique and unorthodox take on what common sense actually is."
You know I hate to admit this, especially since I'm almost always on the losing end of our little verbal sparring matches, but I really am going to miss being able to just sit here and argue with my big brother once I leave for the Capitol.
"Well, in that case, let me see if I can break it down in a way that will help a genius like you understand just what it is I'm trying to say."
"Go ahead then smart-ass. Be my guest."
"Ok. So for starters, the only reason I flirted with Zenobia at all, is because she provided me an opportunity to do. And the only reason I flirted as hard as I did is that doing so allows me to stake my claim to a role I just might have to play if I want to have even the slights chance of surviving when I'm in the arena.
"I mean come on Braker, I may be a hopeless romantic, but I'm not nearly hopeless enough to actually fall head over heels in love with a woman whose sole job in this world is to prepare me for the job of murdering other children as punishment for a crime that no one living is guilty of committing. But that doesn't mean I still can't use her, or more specifically her willingness to believe that I'm actually infatuated with her, to give myself a better chance of making it out of this whole mess alive.
"And that means this is what I have to do, regardless of how disgusting and unsavory, never mind difficult, doing so might actually be. Especially since we both know that the only other things I have going for me, my slightly above average good looks and practical physical strength, are going to be all but worthless the second someone decides to compare me to one of those classically beautiful careers that looks like their body was chiseled out of stone."
"I guess I didn't…..I guess I didn't think about it like that. I mean, it still doesn't make me any more comfortable with the idea that my baby brother is shamelessly flirting with some Capitol bimbo that's almost old enough to be our mother than I was before, but I guess that I can understand and support your reasons for doing so.
"And for what it's worth, I'll try and help mom and dad understand it too. As soon as mom clams down enough that I can talk to her without having to worry about getting my head torn off that is."
"Thanks, Braker. You're the best big brother a guy like me could ever ask for."
"It's about time you got around to realizing that. Lotte's been telling me the same thing for years and she's only seven."
"Well, I always have been the slow one in the family haven't I?"
"That you have. I'm not sure that's something you should be anywhere near as comfortable saying out loud as you seem to be, especially when it comes to the fact that our seven-year-old sister runs circles around you mentally."
"Well she's always been bright and inquisitive, so it's really not all that big a surprise to me that she ended up being so smart.
"I just wish she hadn't been too upset to come and say goodbye."
"She'll come around eventually, and when she does, I'll make sure to tell her how much you love and miss her. And then you can spend countless hours answering all her questions about the Capitol once you get home from the games. OK?"
"OK….."
Reid Stitchell-16(D6F)
"Why did you do something so stupid, Reid?
"You could have gone out there and said damn near anything else and you would have been fine. But for some completely unimaginable reason, you felt the need to go out and admit to the entire world that you're some kind of death-obsessed freak."
I can't for the life of me figure out why my mom is so bent out of shape over this. I mean sure, she's made it abundantly clear that she really doesn't like me thinking, let alone talking, about a topic as taboo and uncomfortable as death, but she also told me that it's always better to tell someone the truth. In fact, at one point she even went as far as to tell me and my little brother Paul, that it's better to tell someone the truth, even if doing so will upset them, than it is to look them in the eye and tell them something that's nothing more than a comforting lie.
But despite all that, despite being told since before I could even walk, that lying is one of, if not the out-and-out worst, things a person could possibly do, she's still berating me for not making up a more socially acceptable answer to Zenobia's incredibly direct and personal question.
"Are you even listening to me, Reid?!"
"Of course I'm listening to you mom. I'm just trying to understand why you're so upset that I told Zenobia the truth when you've always told me that lying is bad."
"That's the thing, Reid. Lying is bad, but you and I both know that you didn't have to lie in order to answer Zenobia's question. All you had to do was tell her about one of your lesser interests, like making new friends or learning about and exploring new places, and this whole mess could and probably would have never happened. Instead, you went out of your way to embarrass yourself, not to mention shame your entire family, by admitting to being fascinated by something that no one in their right mind would ever even consider admitting to being interested in."
So that's why she's so upset. It's not just that I was willing to share an uncomfortable truth with everyone, it's that in doing so I made her and dad look bad in front of the entire district. Never mind the fact that her only daughter is about to be shipped off to the Capitol to fight a bunch of other kids in a twenty-four person free-for-all deathmatch, she's more worried about having to face her friends knowing that they know her daughter is not only absolutely fascinated by very idea of death, but also by all of its very small and subtle taboos and nuances.
"This isn't really about me anymore, is it mom?"
"What are you….What are you trying to say, Reid?"
"I'm saying that this isn't about me anymore and we all know it. It's about the fact that you're embarrassed at the fact that, for the rest of your life, or at the very least until we get another tribute from our district to say something even dumber and more inflammatory than what I said, you're going to be known as the mother of the crazy tribute that was obsessed with death.
"That's all you actually care about and we all know it. So stop pretending that you're worried about me or how what I said might affect my chances of winning, and just admit that you don't actually care if I survive this crap or not.
"In fact, it's probably better for you if I don't survive, because you might be able to squeeze enough sympathy out of my death to get people to avoid talking about me and my unsavory interests wherever you happen to be around."
I can't believe I just said that. It's not that I didn't mean each and every word that came out of my mouth, because I more or less did, but that doesn't mean there probably wasn't a much softer and understanding, or at the very least slightly less confrontational, way I could have gone about saying it.
Then again, why in the heck should I be worried about my mom and her feelings when it's obvious that she doesn't give two craps about me or mine?
"You know your mom loves you, Reid, so do I and your brother. We just wish you hadn't said something so polarizing taboo that it all but destroys any chance you might have had of surviving the Games."
"Come on dad, we all know that I have no chance of winning the games and nothing that I said or didn't say when I was out there on stage was ever going to change that.
"From the second Zenobia picked that little mint-green colored slip of paper with my name on it out of the ball I've been living on borrowed time. You know it, mom knows it, I know it. Hell, I'm pretty sure Paul knows it and he's just barely old enough to even understand what's going on."
"Don't….Don't say things like that sweetheart. Not in front of those of us that love you."
"Why not dad? Is this another one of those situations where telling the truth is somehow worse than lying or do you just not what to hear it?
"Because regardless of which one it is, nothing can change the fact that I'm already as good as dead and we all know it. The only things about this that still need to be decided, are how I die, when I die, and if I decide to turn myself into some sort of dancing chimp on the off-chance doing so will allow me to secure the sponsors I need to delay the inevitable by a day or two."
I can tell that neither of my parents was expecting me to react as strongly and definitely to all of this as I did, and even though I can sort of understand where they, or at the very least my dad, is coming from, I absolutely refuse to apologise for saying the things that I did. I mean seriously, my mom spent the better part of like five minutes yelling at me for saying what I said, and then once I've finally had enough and bite back, my dad finally jumps in, it's only to insist that I've completely misunderstood her reasons for acting the way she did.
But I'm not buying it, and the reason for that is because it's become pretty obvious to me that neither of my parents actually care about me. And since they don't care about me, I have no reason on Earth to continue to care about them. And since they don't care about me and I don't care about them, I have no reason to be ashamed of who I am, just because it might embarrass them.
My name is Reid Stitchell, I'm sixteen-years-old, and I'm absolutely obsessed with death. That's who I've been for most of my life, and it's who I'm going to be when I finally meet my end in the arena in just a little over a week. I just hope and pray my death doesn't come so soon that I never get the chance to study death up close by watching how a few of the other tributes react to their impending deaths…..
A/N: First off, I'd like to give an extra special thank you to Jayfish and maddyodair, for trusting me enough to send in the oh so fun and amazing Reid and Axle respectively. :D
Well, we've done it. You might have thought we'd never get here, but through sheer force of will, and an insane amount of luck mixed with just a small pinch of magic, we've finally managed to make it to the halfway point of the REAPINGS! And that means it's all downhill from here, figuratively speaking, as I hope that things will start to pick up a bit with respect to update speed, especially since this was the last chapter I had started BEFORE deciding to adjust the length and detail of the Escorts backstory. And while I'm still not able to give specific update dates, as I've done in the past and some of you have asked for again, because my schedule is significantly more fluid and chaotic than it was in the past, I should be able to start getting stuff out at a slightly faster pace all the same.
But those are concerns for a different time, and a different Zack, as the current Zack is much more interested in hearing what everyone thinks of Reid and Axle? So please go ahead and drop a review on them, along with any suggestion you may have for how I can make the story more enjoyable for all of you, and I'll look forward to seeing all of your happy and smiling faces at the District 7 Reaping! :D
