XVII. SHUKI AND JOSIAH
Even as he returns who goeth down
Sometimes to clear an anchor, which has grappled
Reef, or aught else that in the sea is hidden.
Shuki Makosh. 17.
District Twelve Tribute.
The days in the Hob were quite long, almost obnoxiously so for Shuki. They always found that they weren't fond of being in the same place for too long, so the Hob wasn't really the best fit for their somewhat combustive energy. Yet it was their currently reality, much to the dismay of the young dreamer, and it was harder and harder for the District Twelve kid to cope with the fact that they had to spend a large majority of their time sitting next to their mother Michra in a small booth, watching as people passed and time failed to slip through their fingers, instead serving as a clogged hourglass.
But Shuki desperately wanted to be content with everything that they'd gone through, everything that they'd been forced to experience, but again, it was long, it was dreadful, and it took up so much time, being forced to sell the precious metal trinkets that their mother had dug up or somehow come across, helping to move various wares around the Hob, and ultimately having a rotten time in what they thought was an overall loving and caring place for them to live.
"Shuki, love, can you please help this man?" Their mother chirped like a songbird as she snapped her child out of a daydream, rummaging around in the stall before ultimately looking up at the man, "Oh, hello Dustin!"
Dustin Camphor was a bit of a regular at the Makosh's stall, and while Shuki was always game to meet new people, they recognized the value in a familiar face, hence them relishing Dustin for being just that. He was a simple man, but that didn't mean that Shuki didn't consistently think about him and all that he had gotten up to in his fifty or so years of being alive, "Good day Michra, Shuki!"
"Dustin!" They created the older man with a warm sense of enthuse, "I haven't seen you in what seems like weeks."
It hadn't really been all that long since Shuki was in their presence, but they felt connected to them regardless of the amount of time that passed. It was simple too, the reason that Shuki adored Dustin. Their father had died in an accident when they were only six, and Dustin was just about the next best thing. He had a trait that Shuki couldn't find in many others, which was simply that he not only tolerated the District Twelve kid, but actually liked them.
And I can't say I have any idea why that's so rare in people. I never thought I was particularly unlikeable or anything but ahh… what do I know? A lot, actually, but that's besides the point.
"It's only been three days," Dustin chuckled, greeting Shuki with a hug, "But I missed you too Shuki; how goes it?"
"If you're going to talk, could you please do it away from the stall," Shuki's mother was quite passionate and hardworking, and that meant that they didn't like their flow of work being interrupted in any capacity. It made sense, yet it still got under Shuki's skin quite a bit. They were a social butterfly, and a repressed one at that, and that meant that they craved each and every small opportunity to talk to somebody, resenting their mother when they were required to move the conversation, as the other party would often forget the conversation altogether and focus on the more productive aspects of the Makosh's stall.
But luckily Dustin was different, and he was always game to talk to Shuki even if it meant that a change in scenery was required, "Sure thing. What do you say we go outside?"
"Am I allowed," They asked their mother, already certain of an affirmative answer since the Hob wasn't that full and that meant that their work was not particularly in high demand that day.
"I don't see why not," Michra patted her child on the back as they walked through the small gap in that would take them out of the stall.
It was located somewhat in the middle of the Hob, and that meant that it often took a while for Shuki to worm their way outside of the space and back outside to where their was fresh air. They tried to be quiet as they walked alongside Dustin, instead taking personal moments to gawk at all the interesting people they saw coming in and out.
It's just fascinating, the way that these people have lived entire lives yet I'll never know anything about them. I'll never truly know anything about anybody but me, and as interesting as it is, it's hard for me to not be a bit petrified by it all. To think… I'll just never know everything as hard as I try.
It took about five minutes or so of walking past the varying degrees of poor people, all dressed in peculiar looking clothing that wasn't supposed to be interesting, but instead just all that these people could afford. Shuki didn't mind how eclectic people were still. It kept them on their toes as they saw all their mother's friends in the Hob staring at them and Dustin until they finally were outside, a small bench located a few feet by the entrance being where they decided to settle.
"So what's going on?" Dustin repeated the question that he had asked inside by the stall.
"Oh more than you could ever imagine," Shuki smirked before digging in their head to find something that they could tell Dustin that would hopefully impress him, or at least make him think that Shuki was the slightest bit interesting.
The District Twelve kid was losing track of what they had and hadn't told Dustin thus far. They told a lot of things to a lot of people, and it was hard for them to distinguish who knew what. Shuki was afraid of repetition, of telling somebody a story that they already knew. They didn't want to seem like a nuisance, and the repetition made it seem like that, like they were annoying, or even worse… boring.
"Do tell," Dustin inquired, his brow quirking upwards, "I've got to ask, how are the birds."
Ah! Well then, I know what I can tell him about!
"Oh, you're never going to guess," Shuki smiled, noting that Dustin looked genuinely interested in what they had to say, "Jubilee is pregnant!"
Shuki wasn't quite sure if pidgeons were capable of being pregnant, but that was besides the point as judging by the look on his face, Dustin didn't seem to know either, "How did that happen?"
"Well, she'd been spending a lot of time with Connie lately, so it wasn't exactly a surprise," Shuki enthused, imagining the mating birds in their head, "I don't know when she'll give birth, but I reckon it will be quite soon."
Shuki began to grow afraid though, as they suspected that Dustin would once again ask the same question he always did whenever they talked to him about the birds, and once again they were correct, "Will I ever get to meet them, Shuki?"
That was the tough part, as Shuki truly did want to show Dustin the birds and all the other animals that they had claimed to have, an error arose in the fact that said animals simply did not exist. But Shuki wanted them to exist, they truly did, they wanted their pigeons and hamsters to be real more than practically anything, yet they couldn't because animals were expensive and their mother didn't trust them to take care of the critters (which was probably for the better, but still).
But Shuki always had their imagination, and that often came in handy when they saw the wealthier people in Twelve strolling about with their birds and dogs and cats that Shuki would never be able to come close to, yet they could certainly pretend. They could pretend that they were wealthy enough, trusted enough to take care of animals, and the more that they told people these stories, the closer they became to the truth in Shuki's mind.
It was just a matter of keeping all their lies, or rather slight exaggerations in check and knowing which story was meant for which person. And yes, Shuki had seen birds mating, so technically they weren't fibbing that much, they were just stretching the folds of the reality that they had established for themselves.
"I'm not sure," Shuki hesitated after dozing off for a moment, "It's pretty busy around the house, you know after the flood."
"What flood?" Dustin was suddenly worried as Shuki realized they never told him about the flood, instead giving that story to somebody else.
"A couple weeks ago our house flooded," Shuki tried to look upset, "But I stopped it with a mop. Unfortunately, it scared the pigeons quite a bit, so I don't think that we should have company over for quite some time."
"Is everybody okay?" Dustin was persistent, a genuinely worried expression on his face.
"Better than ever," Shuki shrugged their shoulders, "I just think you ought to wait a bit longer before you meet them."
They weren't quite sure if Dustin was picking up what they were putting down, but they proceeded with their talk of the birds as if virtually nothing had changed. And Dustin listened, just the way that he always did, with a smile on his face, because he really did care about them.
"Well I've got to go work," Dustin sighed at the end of Shuki's story, "But I got you something."
"Oh?" He always gave Shuki small trinkets when they had their little discussions, so they weren't particularly surprised when Dustin took out a small object wrapped in paper and placed it in the palm of Shuki's hands, "What's this?"
"You'll find out if you open it," Dustin chuckled as Shuki tore through the paper to reveal the dandiest little brass bell, "It's for the birds!"
"I love it!" They enthused, yet they weren't as happy on the inside. They truly didn't have any use for the bell, and they couldn't help but feel guilty for taking something that Dustin could have sold for his own family.
But random bursts of guilt were Shuki's norm, and they'd surely get over it eventually.
Josiah "Jo" Hurley. 16.
District Twelve Male.
"C'mon Hob, let's get sickening!" Jo could already imagine the way the crowd would greet him when he stepped out on stage in his fanciest dress and his heels higher than the Capitolites were on their own egos. He was only fourteen at the time, and he was petrified at the thought of his performance not being well received, but he knew that he had to get over it.
He remembered what Yashua had told him just a few weeks prior when he was plucked from the audience to be featured in the show alongside him, "You've got moves kids, seriously."
And then he offered to take Jo under his wing whilst dressed as Mirai Belle with charcoal as eyeshadow and a dress that made him look like a cowgirl. He offered to make the District Twelve boy a star, a drag performer just like the ones that he had envied for months, sneaking away to shows when he told his father he was sleeping.
But now it's finally time for me to be like the queens I've envied my entire life, and I just don't know if I can do it, he paced back and forth behind the velvet curtain that masked the stage as Yashua, err Mirai, continued to perform, everybody laughing and clapping and genuinely enjoying themselves, a rarity in Panem these days. I don't mind.
As soon as Yashua's song stopped, Jo was in full panic mode, trying not to sweat off the somewhat shitty makeup he had done with vegetable juice and coal so that he could show the Hob and eventually all of District Twelve and eventually his terribly hardened father just what he was made of.
"And now, I want to introduce you to somebody very special to me," Yashua was amazing at raising her voice so that she sounded almost exactly like the sort of well-off southern woman that she was dressed up as, "District Twelve Seam, it is my biggest honor to introduce you to my drag daughter, the Mary-Sue Sylvester."
He took one last deep breath before popping on a cheesy smile and walking onto the stage, instantly stunned by the way people were already applauding for him, "Hello my darlings!"
They continued to roar as he strutted to the center and pretended to fall to the ground, only to get right back up again, a special trick that Yashua had taught him, "Are you ready to have a ball?"
He took the audience's applause as a good sign before signaling to the stagehand with a record player besides him that he was ready for his performance to start, "I'm going to show you a rendition of this song that you have never seen before!"
It was a basic song, just Panem's current national anthem, but it was basic enough that Jo felt confident he could nail it during his first ever performance in drag. And the people seemed to always love it when the queens lip synced to it. Something about that subtle rebellion in turning a song made by people who's sole mission was to oppress Jo and everybody he loved into a bright and passionate song of love and acceptance was magical to him, hence why he was delighted to perform such a classic for his debut. The stagehand hit a button on the record player, and Jo was whisked into the performance mindset.
(Gem of Panem, Mighty city, Through the ages you shine anew.)
Jo was off, making vibrant expressions with his mouth to match the words he was lip-syncing to under a spunky pop beat as his hips swayed from side to side and a middle aged man in a tacky wig threw him a dollar bill which he caught in one hand before continuing his number.
(We humbly kneel, To your ideal, And pledge our love to you.)
Just as the lyrics said, Jo kneeled on the ground and slightly thrusted his hips while putting up peace signs in the air and giggling to himself. It was clear the audience admired his gusto just as much, their hands waving to the beat of the music alongside Jo.
(Gem of Panem, Heart of Justice, Wisdom crowns your marble brow.)
He acted like a statue, his brows marble and wise as the song suggested, moving his hands to the beat of the song around his face, as to spotlight it to the audience while he climbed down the stairs off the edge of the stage, entering the audience so that he could have some participation in his number.
(You give us light, You reunite, To you we make our vow.)
There was a queen in the center of the crown standing alone who looked particularly enthused by the performance, so Jo decided that she would be the one he pulled from the crowd. As he approached her, her smile sunk into a frown and she mouthed the word "Josiah," with a sense of confusion, frightening the boy into picking somebody else as he was weirded out by the interaction. He couldn't let that deter his performance though.
(Gem of Panem, Seat of power, Strength in peacetime, shield in strife.)
Jo winked at the previous queen before making his way down to a table of people who seemed new to drag and he sat down on the table, grabbing a teenage girls hand and helping her sway to the music just as Yashua did when they first met. And she seemed to be enjoying it, genuinely having as good as a time as Jo was.
(Protect our land, With armored hand, Our Capitol, Our life.)
The song was over just as quickly as it began, Jo making his way back to the center onto the stage and curtseying for the audience one last time, their roars signaling the fact that he had done a satisfactory, if not brilliant job with his performance. His heart was racing louder than it ever had; Did I actually just do that? The District Twelve boy took a moment to relish in the attention that he was foreign to receiving too. He'd wanted to put a show on like this for so long at this point, and just like that, it happened, "My name is Mary-Sue Sylvester, daughter of Mirai Belle, and I hope you enjoyed my little number."
He exited the stage to screams and and an enthusiastic gasp from Yashua, "Jo, you did better than I could have ever imagined."
Really? I did? Looking back at it, Jo was beginning to be a bit insecure over the fact he probably fudged a few of the lyrics and probably wasn't as sharp as he was with his movements. He hadn't thought about it before, but now that he was out of his moment of temporary bliss, it was all that Jo could think, I just don't want to let Yashua down.
"You thought so?" Jo responded to the praise with doubt, before remembering the queen who had mouthed his name when he went into the audience, nervous all over again, "Did you not see the part where I messed up when–"
"Hush, my child," Yashua cut him off, wrapping his arms around him in a hug, "You did the best first performance that I've ever seen in my little career."
"I…" He stuttered, still processing such acclaim, "Thank you so much?"
Jo once again thought of the queen who had called to him. Her cheap plastic wig certainly wasn't all that impressive, and while Jo had seen her perform a couple times, she certainly wasn't anything to write home about. Maybe she was just jealous that Jo had just turned fourteen and was already better than some unpolished middle aged chick?
But he didn't have to wonder long, as he heard tapping against the surface of the curtain, "Can I come in?"
The voice was a low baritone and a charming one at that. It sounded all too familiar to Jo, "Dad?"
He began to panic, what the hell is my father doing here? Is he going to be mad at me? How did he know that I would be here of all places. Did somebody fucking tell him? Who told him?
With shame, Jo peeled back the curtain, only to see the same queen that had previously reached out to him. Her wig was still hideous and her dress' sequins were still falling off, and Jo was so utterly confused, is this?
It clicked, "Dad? Why are you wearing that?"
He instantly felt horrible for mentally calling the queen ugly, realizing it was the very man who had raised him. The very man who cared for him and his sister Daisy when their mother left and they were all alone. The same man who always disappears at night… He disappears here…
"I get it," Jo answered his own question, "You're one of us…"
He never quite knew what his mother ran away, only knowing that his father "did something unforgivable," to the family, and that was why she left. But Davis would never say what exactly he did, and while he wasn't too close with his father, he sort of didn't want to know and have his vision of him ruined.
"That's why your mom left," He conceded, makeup dripping down his face out of shyness, "She didn't like that I do all of this."
"But why?" Jo seemed to forget the homosexuality that often went hand-in-hand with being a drag queen, "Oh…"
"My friend Anthony," Davis sighed, patting Jo on the shoulder, "He truly was a great guy until his own wife found out."
It took Jo a moment or a few to process everything. The man who he was so petrified of disappointing and letting down was exactly like him. He had nothing to fear. He didn't know why he thought he had anything to fear in the first place, "So you're okay with all of this then," Jo gestured at his outfit and at Yashua.
"Of course I am," Davis beamed, picking at one of his own sequins, "You named yourself after my parents, and you have one of the best drag mothers in the business."
It was true, Yashua was amazing even though he had barely turned seventeen, "Oh, I'm touched."
Jo felt comfortable for once. At peace with himself and the career that he knew would blossom out of the performance that he had just given, and he knew that the sky was the limit for him and Mary-Sue Sylvester.
Shuki Makosh. 17.
District Twelve Tribute.
If only being Reaped was yet another one of Shuki's silly little daydreams…
They'd dreamed of being Reaped and winning the Hunger Games on several occasions, but it was just that… a dream, and nothing more or less than one. And they liked keeping it that way. They liked knowing that they could win the Hunger Games time and time again inside of their head without having to actually do it. And they liked pretending that they were as rich and famous as Haymitch Abernathy from time to time. They certainly thought that it was a desirable life that the boy lived.
"And then I'll win and get to be like Haymitch!" They were oddly enthusiastic as they parted with their mother inside of the Justice Building, "If Twelve won in a pool of 48, surely I can win against 23!"
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, darling," It was clear that Michra did in fact not appreciate Shuki's enthusiasm, "But you need to take care of yourself while you're out there. I care about you."
"I care about you too mom," Shuki smiled, hugging her for what seemed like the first time in forever, "But that's why I'm going to come home to you."
They didn't know exactly how just yet, but Shuki knew that they had the potential to be a success. They weren't too puny, in fact they were the opposite as a result of all the heavy lifting that they had done around the stall, and they reckoned that that had to be worth something.
I just hope I can find some allies…
Josiah "Jo" Hurley. 16.
District Twelve Male.
The past two years of Jo's life had gone by quiet swimmingly. He actually had established a bit of a reputation in the Hob for his performances, and furthermore, he and his father were two peas in a pod, Davis escorting him to all his shows and always being the loudest one in the crowd. It was hard for Jo to not be as happy as a clam every day of his life, yet of course, the unthinkable had to occur.
Jo was paralyzed when the Escort called his name, and while he thought that he would be able to walk onto the stage with the same confidence of Mary-Sue Sylvester, that simply wasn't the case. Jo Hurley was just as scared as he was before his first show, if not worse. I'm going to die! This is just great!
"I love you, son" Davis' reassuring words in the Justice Building didn't do a damn thing to the still-petrified Jo, "No matter what happens, I'll always love you."
So does he also think I'm going to die? Well this is just fucking lovely?
"I love you more," It was all Jo could say. He was so thankful for the past few years and so lucky that he had such an incredible father besides him for all of it.
These past two years had been the best two years of Jo's life, he was just so afraid that they would now be known as the last two.
THANK FUCKING GOD! I HAVE FINISHED INTROS! THANK YOU TO GOLDIE031 FOR SHUKI AND PERSEPHONEFAY FOR JO AND EVERYBODY FOR READING! IT IS FINALLY TIME FOR THE FUN TO BEGIN AWE YEAH!