Olympia Tannis (District 11 Escort)
Part of me still can't believe that I'm actually standing in the heart of District Eleven. Not only is it easily the most important district, but there's an argument to be made that it's the most important place in all of Panem period.
The Capitol may be our heart and soul, but District Eleven is our lifeblood. Without it, Panem would cease to exist as a nation. We couldn't survive, let alone thrive, like we have without the food it produces.
This is why I'm so excited to have been chosen as Eleven's new Capitol Escort — because I understand how important it and the people who call it home are to the safety and stability of our great nation. And it's an honor for me to be a part of that, even if it is in a small and ultimately insignificant way.
"How in the world can you be so happy right now?" asks my partner, Kaetus, an exhausted look on his face as he shotguns what I think is his fifth or sixth latte before motioning for a terrified little avox to bring him another. "It is entirely too early for anyone to be this peepy."
"It's never too early to have fun, Kaetus." I giggle, a playful smile on my face as I watch him shotgun yet another piping hot latte without the slightest hint of hesitation. "Besides, it's almost two o'clock in the afternoon. It hasn't been too early for anything for like seven hours."
"I disagree, vehemently," he groans, accepting yet another refill from the same incredibly tiny and mortified-looking avox before slumping into a nearby chair and setting his drink down gently on the small table to his left. "But I'm not really in the mood to argue. So, why don't we say I'm right and call it a day? You can be right next time."
"Oh, is that how this is going to work? We take turns being right about things we disagree about?"
"I don't see why not," he laughs, picking up his cup and giving the stemming contents a couple of gentle blows before taking a small sip. "As long as what we disagree on isn't overly important. When it is, I'm going to have to be right, even if it's not my turn. It's an ego thing. I'm sure you understand," he says, setting his cup back down on the table and throwing me a playful wink as I roll my eyes at him.
"Oh, I think I do," I reply, sliding into the chair across from him and quickly waving off his little avox before she has the chance to scurry over and offer me a drink.
"I'm surprised they let you bring one of the avox in here," I say, changing the subject with all the skill of a drunk turtle. "Don't they usually make them stay on the train?"
"I didn't bring her in," he says, leaning back in his chair and taking another small sip of his drink. A confused look plastered on his face."I thought you did."
"Why would I bring an avox in to serve you coffee?"
"Because I'm amazing, and you knew that I would need a steady supply of the stuff to wake up after such a long and stressful night?"
"Stressful? We played cards until six-thirty, and then you went to bed. There was nothing even sort of stressful about last night."
"Losing is incredibly stressful," he retorts, grinning like an idiot as he finishes his drink and motions for the waiting avox to bring him two more piping hot refills. "And if you recall, I did a lot of that before going to bed."
"That's not the way I remember it." I chuckle, reluctantly accepting one of the lattes when the terrified little avox offers it to me before mouthing a silent thank you as she scurries back to the far side of the room. "In fact, I seem to remember me being on the losing side more often than not."
"Until we started playing for money. That's when everything went sideways, and I started to lose my shirt."
"Oh, for the love of, you are such a drama queen, Kaetus," I say, taking a small, tepid sip of my latte and deciding that I like it. "We played a total of three hands for money, and I won maybe fifty bucks across all three of them combined. I'd hardly call that losing your shirt."
"I am not a drama queen," he scoffs, the indignant tone of his voice betrayed by the smile on his lips and the laugh burning in his big, soft, golden eyes. "I, my dear Olympia, am a drama king!"
"Pardon me, your majesty." I laugh, sliding out of my chair and curtseying meekly as he rolls his eyes and chokes back a laugh. "I meant no offense to your kingly majesty with that terribly unfortunate choice of words." I giggle, rolling my eyes and smiling playfully. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"I'm not sure," he quips, rubbing his chin gently and losing himself in thought just as the first soft, melodic tones of ringing bells begin to permeate the area. Signaling to everyone in the building that it's time for the two of us to make our way to the main foyer so the mayor can introduce us to the assembled masses.
So, with that in mind, Kaetus quickly downs the last few sips of his twelfth latte of the morning, slips out of his chair, and politely offers me his arm. "Shall we?"
"We shall," I reply, taking one last long, wondering look back at our tiny latte peddling avox fairy before accepting his arm and allowing him to lead me over to the door. A pair of happy, playful smiles plastered on both of our faces as we take our place in the foyer mere seconds before the massive, cornflower-blue double doors that separate us from the district beyond begin to flutter open.
"pleasure to introduce our new Capitol mentor, the incredibly skilled and talented young man charged with shepherding our brave tributes to victory in the arena. Kaetus Vidal!"
"Wish me luck," he whispers, sliding past me and strolling confidently out onto the stage before I have the chance to do so. Leaving me alone with my thoughts, most of which continue to dwell on that incredibly out-of-place little avox who is now standing a few feet behind me surrounded by a trio of faceless peacekeepers, for a few seconds before the mayor moves on to my introduction.
"And his partner, the bright and inquisitive young woman who will do her level best to help our brave tributes navigate the ever-shifting intricacies of the Capitol. Olympia Tannis!"
I've never been more excited or proud in my life than I am now — and I can't help but smile as I walk slowly but confidently out onto the stage. Pausing for just a few seconds to scan the faces in the crowd as my eyes adjust before quickly making my way over to the podium. Taking my place behind it and gently plucking the microphone out of its holster before nearly screaming out my greeting.
"Good afternoon, District Eleven!" I squeal, my voice shrill and dripping with excitement as I smile down at the gaggle of adorable little boys at the foot of the stage. "My name, on the off chance you forgot it in the last ten seconds, is Olympia Tannis, and it is my absolute pleasure to be here today as your new Capitol Escort.
"Now, I'm sure you all know why we're here — so I'm not going to waste your time retraveling that already well-traveled road. Instead, I'm going to skip over all that super boring and unimportant nonsense and get right to the good part. The selection of the two brave young men who will have the singular honor of representing the most important district in all of Panem in the star-studded extravaganza that is the Fourth Quarter Quell!"
I'm honestly not expecting much of a response from that, so it's more than a little surprising — not to mention humbling — when the crowd erupts at the end of my little spiel. Showering me with a raucous and spirit-lifting round of applause as I skip happily across the stage to reap them a champion.
It only takes me a few seconds to cover the handful of feet between my podium and the ball, which is a massive cornucopia surrounded by a sea of fake fruits, vegetables, and garnishing and stuffed to the brim with golden slips of paper. It truly is a breathtaking sight, and I could spend hours admiring its beauty and ingenuity.
However, it does have one glaring issue I don't think anyone considered before approving the design. And that's the fact that it's a cornucopia. Which, when coupled with the way it's sitting, means that the majority of the slips are inaccessible. The only ones I can get to are the forty or so slips sitting in or spilling out of the mouth.
But that's a minor inconvenience, and it really only applies to those young men unfortunate enough to have their slips packed into the back of the ball. Though their loss is someone else's gain, and two of the forty or so young men lucky enough to have their slips in the mouth of the ball are about to get rewarded for their good fortune.
Starting with this one.
"The name of our first tribute is … Ashton Drysden!" I squeal, my voice bubbly and oozing excitement as I furiously scan the small sea of faces packed into the square in front of me for any sign of my freshly minted Hunger Games tribute.
Unfortunately, Ashton doesn't seem to be in any sort of hurry to show himself. It takes him nearly a minute to register the fact that he's been reaped. Another forty seconds to slowly weave his way through the crowd. And a further fifteen to cover the five or so feet between his exit point and the foot of the stage.
All in all, it takes him just a hair over two minutes to make it up on stage. Which is an absolute lifetime when it comes to things like this, and he spends most of it as the unchallenged center of attention for everyone in Panem. And I can't help but pity him for that.
And how could I not? Ashton clearly isn't used to this kind of attention — and when you couple that with the fact that he's a pale, skinny little boy with freckle-covered skin, a mop of messy light-brown hair, a crooked little smile, and huge, fear-filled amber eyes. It becomes painfully clear to anyone with half a brain why that's the case.
Ashton is, at his core, a small, awkward, terrified little boy. And I've just turned his whole life upside down by reaping him for a Quell he has very little chance of winning. It makes me sick.
However, I still have a job to do. And Ashton, as unprepared and frightened as he may be, is now a Hunger Games tribute. I can't change that, but I can do my best to help him make a decent first verbal impression on the people he's been chosen to represent, as well as the rest of Panem.
"Welcome, Ashton," I coo, throwing my arms around his trembling shoulders and pulling him in for what I hope is a warm and reassuring hug. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear."
"Th — thank you," he says, doing his best to look and sound as brave as he can while fighting an obviously losing battle with the urge to cry. "It's nice to be here."
"I'm sure it is, Ashton.
"Now, we don't have a lot of time, but I do want to give you the chance to say something to say a few words," I coo, my voice soft and happy, my face a mask of excitement even as my heart continues to break with every glance I take at my tiny, terrified tribute. "If you're up for it, that is."
"I don't … I don't know what to say. I know that I'm supposed to say something, but I can't find the words, Olympia." he sobs, his voice cracking with every word as he once again beats back the urge to cry. "I'm … I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry about, Ashton," I say, pulling him in for another quick hug so he can use my shoulder to wipe away the light dusting of tears that managed to slip past his admittedly impressive defenses. "This is a big moment for you, and it's natural to be unsure about things. I'm sure you'll have plenty to say once you've had the chance to process all of this.
"And, as luck would have it, you'll have a pre-game interview in which to share it all with the amazing people of Eleven."
"That's true," he says, latching on tightly to the lifeline I just threw him and riding it to the relative safety of the small star on the far side of the stage next to a wired, fidgety, yet somehow very disappointed-looking Kaetus.
"Well, that was certainly an experience. I don't want to jinx anything, but I have a good feeling about little Ashton," I lie, doing my best to sound confident and reassuring as I shoot him one last sad little glance before turning my attention back to the crowd. "Of course, Ashton is only half of the equation. The other half is his still unreaped district partner.
"And, since I'm sure all of you are just as eager to find out who your second tribute is as Ashton and I am, I think it would be a good idea for me to go ahead and reap him now. Don't you?"
I hate to admit this, but I really don't want to have to reap another tribute. I'm absolutely terrified that I'll end up picking someone just as small, scared, and likely to die as Ashton, and I don't know if I'm strong enough to handle that.
But I'll have to be. It's still my job — no, my privilege — to be a Hunger Games escort. And I have a responsibility to myself, the people of Eleven, and Panem as a whole, to do that job and to do it to the best of my admittedly limited abilities — even if it means sending a sweet little kid like Ashton to his death. I don't have to like that last part, and I'm obviously going to try my best to avoid being in this situation again going forward, but I still have to do it today.
So that's what I do. I steel myself for the possible horrors to come, square my shoulders, lock my jaw, and quickly dart across the stage to the ball. Once I'm there, I carefully slip my hand past the upper lip of the cornucopia and into the back of the breathtaking monstrosity before deftly scooping up a slip of radiant golden paper and scurrying back behind the podium to read off the name of my second ever Hunger Games tribute.
"The name of our second tribute is ... Cassis Caldeira!"
My announcement is met with a gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, pain and anguish-filled scream from somewhere out in the main crowd that seems to last for an eternity and chills me to my core. It's so sad and painful that, for an all too brief and dangerous second, I seriously consider making up a new name and pretending that I misspoke a second ago. Anything to spare the person screaming from the pain I've just unleashed on them.
But I don't. Instead, I stand there stoically with a forced smile on my face — pretending that I can't hear the screaming and wailing as someone's world falls apart — until Cassis finally shows himself, and the screaming starts to taper off. At which point, my stomach drops into my feet, and it takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint that I have not to start screaming myself.
You see, Cassis is, for lack of a better term, a baby. Just like Ashton.
He's roughly the same height and has the same skinny frame and terror-filled eyes. The only differences are Cassis's soft, caramel-colored skin. Wild, untamable frizzy chocolate-brown locks. And his big, warm, brown eyes.
Other than that, he's basically a clone of his terrified little district partner. And I'm not sure that I can handle that.
I mean, I'm not going to break down in the middle of the reaping or anything. All that would do is make things worse for Ashton and Cassis than they already are. But once we're all back on the train, all bets are off.
Well, here goes nothing.
"Welcome, Cassis," I squeal, fighting back the urge to sob as I pull him in for the same big, warm, supportive hug I gave Ashton. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
He doesn't respond to me. He just stands there, his tiny body trembling with every breath, tears seeping out of the corners of his big brown eyes and rolling down his soft, caramel cheeks in a slow but steady stream as he stars past me and into the heavens.
It's almost too much for me to bear, but I have to find a way to push through. I have to keep my emotions in check until after the reaping is over. Which means I need to wrap it up in the next two or three minutes.
'It's ok, Cassis, you don't have to say anything," I coo, running my hand gently across his heaving shoulders as he continues to fight the urge to cry. "This is a big moment for you. And just like with Ashton, it's perfectly natural for you to struggle with it."
Again, he doesn't respond. He just stands there and stares off into space, his eyes wide with fear but his face a mask of passive indifference. It's honestly a little encouraging that both of them are so good at hiding their feelings.
It's not much, but it should be something that Kaetus and I can work with going forward. And that's better than nothing.
"Well then, I guess that's that.
"Ladies and gentlemen of District Eleven, allow me to introduce you to your Fourth Quarter Quell tributes," I say, my voice low but bubbly as I motion for Ashton to join us in front of the podium. "The adorably sweet Ashton Drysden. And his partner, the stoic and confident Cassis Caldeira!
"And as always, I hope you all have a very happy and safe Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
Ashton 'Ash' Drysden-13 (District 11 Male)
I can't believe that I threw up all over the floor. I didn't mean to, and I really did try to make it to the bathroom before it all came out. But I didn't make it, and now it's all over the palace, and there's nothing I can do about it.
"I bet he feels better after that," jokes my big sister, Cypress, a fake smile on her face as she helps my dad look for a towel or something to throw over the mess while her twin Cedar rubs my back softly and gently wipes away my tears.
"This isn't the time or place for your jokes, Cypress," snaps Cedar, her voice low and angry as she continues to switch between whipping my eyes and helping me blow my nose as I continue to sob quietly into her shoulder. "You know that."
"It wasn't a joke. I'm sure Ash feels a lot better now that he's thrown up."
"No, I don't," I sob, my eyes red and puffy as I try to push myself out of Cedar's arms only to have her hold on tighter and force me back down into her lap. "I promise, I don't."
"We know you don't, son," says my dad, his eyes just as red and puffy as mine even though his cheeks are still dry. "Cypress was just trying to help break the ice and lighten the mood.
"It was inappropriate," he says, his voice low and angry as he glares at Cypress, who is down on her knees scrubbing at my mess with a cup of water and box of tissues she found hidden in the bathroom. "But it came from a good place."
"Of course it did," she says, giving up on trying to clean up my puke and just emptying the box of tissues on top of the mess and moving over to join the rest of us on the couch. "This is sort of how I deal with uncomfortable stuff this.
"But Cedar and dad are right. I was out of line, even if it did come from a good place."
"And?" growls Cedar.
"And I'm sorry, Ash," she says, her voice cracking as tears start to stream down her face.
"It's — It's ok, Cypress," I say, doing my best to sound as ok as I should even as a fresh batch of tears start to stream down my face and soak into Cedar shirt. "I know you were just trying to — trying to — I don't want to die," I whisper.
"And you're not going to," says my dad, pulling me out of Cedar's lap and wrapping me in a huge hug. "You're not going to die, Ash. You're going to win."
"How — can — how can you say that?" I sob.
"Because you're a survivor," says Cypress. "You managed to make it all the way to thirteen despite mine and Cedar's best efforts to stop you. "
"You bounced back from falling out of a tree and fracturing three bones in your back in under a week," coos Cedar.
"And you managed to grow up to be this big, and smart, and strong despite ten years of my amazing cooking," says my dad, sitting me down on the couch and quickly brushing away a string of tears before my sisters can see him crying.
"All things considered; you've already survived more in your short life than most people my age have. If you can make it through all that, you can make it through the Hunger Games. You just have to use your brain like the smart young man you are."
"And what if I can't?"
"You can, Ash," says my dad, his voice low and pleading. "You have to believe that. Because as soon as you stop, it's all over.
"Can you do that for us, Ash? Can you believe that you can win?"
"I ... I'll try. I'll try, daddy. I promise."
"That's all your sisters, and I can ask of you, Ash."
Cassis Caldeira-12 (District 11 Male)
"I'm telling you, Fraiser, it was her. They took her to the Capitol and turned her into an avox. Then they brought her back here to scare us."
"You're imagining things, Heather. You have to be. The Capitol doesn't turn someone into an avox for sneaking into the woods. They execute them. You know that."
"That's what I thought, but I'm telling you, I saw her. She was going out to the train while we were coming in to see Cassis."
"For the last time, Heather, you did not see Sage," snaps my dad, his voice loud and angry as he glares down at my siblings with a hurt look in his eyes. "Now, will you both please stop talking about her and focus on your brother? He's the one that matters here. Not some silly little girl who got herself killed for doing something stupid."
"But she's not dead, dad. I saw her. I know I did."
"Damnit, Heather, I don't care!" he screams, scaring all three of us and sending my little sister racing into the bathroom on the far side of the room.
"You didn't need to be so harsh, dad," says Fraiser, a concerned look on his face as he slowly wheels himself towards the bathroom door. "She's only nine years old. She doesn't understand how serious all of this is," he says, knocking softly on the door and whispering to Heather, who cracks the door and allows him to wheel himself in before closing and locking it behind him.
"He's right, dad," I say, my voice calm and even, my eyes red, puffy, and filled with tears. "She's been worried about what happened to Sage for over a month."
"I know that Cassis, I do. It's just — it's hard to have her worrying about someone else, someone she knows is dead, when you're about to be shipped off to the Capitol to fight for your life," he sobs, wrapping me in a tight hug that squeezes most of the air out of my little body as he does his best to compose himself.
"It's just not fair. We're good people. You and Fraiser are good sons. Heather is a good daughter. And I'm a — decent father. What did we do to deserve all of this bad luck?"
"You're not a decent father, dad. You're a great one.
"You held the four of us together after mom died. You picked up extra shifts in the fields after Fraiser fell out of that tree and broke his back. You built him a wheelchair so he could move around.
"You've always been there for us. You're an amazing dad."
"Then why couldn't I protect you guys?
"Why couldn't I protect your mom from that quack doctor who let her bleed out when she was giving birth to Heather? Why couldn't I protect Fraiser from the foreman who had him climbing into the upper branches despite knowing he was too big and too heavy to be doing that? Why couldn't I work just a little bit harder to provide for my family so that you wouldn't have to take out tesserae?"
"Because life doesn't work that way, dad," says Fraiser, tears streaming down his face as he carefully wheels himself towards the two of us with the help of Heather, who is still too scared of dad to look him in the eye. "At least, not for our family."
"But that's going to change," I declare, my voice strong and sure despite the fear raging inside me. "Because I'm going to win the Hunger Games. And once I do that, everything will be better. Right, Fraiser?"
"You're damn right it will, little brother. You're damn right."
A/N: First off, I'd like to give a super special thanks to LittleBigFirefly and FloatingFerrets for submitting Ashton and Cassis. I've never been great at writing younger tributes, but I think these two turned out great and I just hope I did them justice in your eyes.
Well, we finally did it. The penultimate reaping is done, and we have just one more left. Then, we can get to the good stuff, after that world building chapter I mentioned last time, of course. That chapter is also where I'll unveil how sponsors will work for the story as well as a few other little things that people have been asking about. So hang on, because things are about to get even crazier than they already are.
Other than that, I don't have much to say. Please drop a review and let me know what you think of Ashton and Cassis, and as always don't be afraid to PM me if you have questions or concerns. My door is always open. Otherwise, I'll be looking for all of your happy and smiling faces at the District Twelve Reaping next week. I hope :D