Chapter 9:
District Eight
Fete Bayard, 18
Two and a Half Years Before The Reaping
Fete could think of a hundred other places he would rather be right now, the top choice being back at home with his two cats. He hasn't left them for this long yet since he adopted them…are they okay without him? Is Bobby warm enough with just the sweater he made for him? Maybe someone will let him use the excuse of going home to check on his cats to leave early.
Fete sighs heavily at this, knowing no one will ever take that excuse. Not that he really has to answer to anyone. Well…the bride might get pissed off if the owner of Bayard Wedding Co. leaves early. Not that he should be the owner…
He fights back a yawn as he leans against the wall, trying not to shut his eyes and nap right now. He hated attending weddings already but it's worse now without his mother here…
"You hanging in there, kid?"
Fete lets out a non-committal grunt as he opens up his eyes fully to look over at Florian Conroy walking over to him. If anyone else had called him kid, he would have ignored them. But not Florian. Not after everything he's done to keep Fete from getting shipped off to the Community Center or something after his mother's death. But Florian didn't even stop at that. Honestly, Fete never would have been able to keep living out his mother's legacy without Florian helping out immensely with the business.
"Probably a dumb question," Florian chuckles as he leans against the wall next to Fete, examining the entire room and the wedding they planned from top to bottom. It's smaller than anything his mother ever made, but Fete doesn't care. If anyone has a problem with him downgrading after his mother's death, they can just suck it. It's too much effort to put up with anyone that wants to micromanage his business for him. "It turned out great, you know."
Fete grunts at this, knowing very well that even at just 15, he's planned a better wedding than some of the people in the Capitol. "I used a lot of designs from her."
"But she didn't tell you how to organize everything or manage people," Florian continues, for some unknown reason praising Fete's work. "And she didn't make the bridal gown."
Fete looks over at the bride, knowing her dress is the best damn thing he's ever made so far in his life. Well, maybe second to the costumes for his cats. "Nope," he responds, again fighting the urge to shut his eyes and just take a short nap. Just a few minutes wouldn't hurt, right?
Florian is quiet for a few minutes, the man just observing the wedding with Fete as the guests eat their food. It's too many people for Fete but at least most of them have just left him alone. There's only so much he can keep up being fake and happy to people. "She would be proud of you." Fete turns towards Florian, staring at him with a blank face and he's met with concern from the second in charge of the business. "I worked with her for years and I know she would be so proud to see her son taking over after her early death…"
Fete's lips twitch up just a little bit at getting called son, but quickly turn back into a neutral look as he tries not to show any of the deep sadness in him still from his mother's death. He threw himself into the work she left behind, hoping that the constant work would help him block out the pain. Yet it's still there and today is the worst it's been in months. Everything about the venue just reminds him of her. The actual wedding was always her favorite part of the business when she got to see everything come together and she could celebrate with her clients. But she celebrated a little too much and now she's gone, and the wedding is now Fete's least favorite part of taking over her business. Which isn't saying much considering how much he disliked it before, but at least he got to spend it with her.
"Fete, can you promise me something?" Florian asks suddenly and Fete looks up at him, just giving a small grunt of acknowledgement for him to continue. "Get some rest after this. I mean this in the best way but you look exhausted and I don't want the same thing happening to you that happened to her."
Fete shrugs at this, not quite giving a response to Florian. He respects the man too much to flat out lie to him. He'll nap when he can when he gets home but he isn't going to tell Florian that he's already on the same path as his mother. He tried not to but when the only thing to get him to actually sleep at night without waking up from nightmares of losing her all over again was a full glass of straight scotch, well…he'll take the solid few hours of sleep. Who's going to stop him? Florian can try but he's not his parent. And Atropa sure isn't going to stop him. No, if anything, his best friend is just going to keep enabling him and if that's not true friendship, he doesn't know what is. Not that he has had many friendships as examples, but still, he wouldn't trade her for the world. Now if only she would have been able to go to the wedding tonight.
"Fete," Florian says, tone showing he knows that Fete isn't going to listen to him at all. "As your kind of guardian right now, I'm telling you to take a couple days off."
"And as your boss, I'm saying I'll consider it, but no," Fete answers before falling quiet again, a bit surprised at snapping a bit at Florian. And by his COO's face, he can tell Florian is just as surprised. "Sorry," Fete mumbles, crossing his arms as he looks away from him, feeling just a bit bad for snapping at him.
"It's okay…" Florian says quietly, his tone kind even though Fete doesn't deserve it. "You've been under a lot of stress lately. I'm just worried about you, okay?"
"Okay," Fete grumbles, not used to someone other than his mother caring so much about him. The sound of someone tapping on glass saves him from having to keep putting energy into talking and everyone quiets down to look over at the married couple for their speech. The speeches are always way too emotional for him to put up with so he takes the time to get a small nap in right now. Who's going to notice if he's dozing off? No one, they're all going to be paying attention to the couple.
He shuts his eyes but he's nudged by Florian after a few seconds as someone walks by, passing out champagne flutes to all of them. Fete snatches one up before Florian can say otherwise, and just gives the man a look telling him to not even question it at all. Fete goes back to shutting his eyes, knowing he'll fall asleep right away and trusting himself not to spill the glass.
"-Mr. Bayard."
Fete jolts awake at his name and blinks rapidly to get the sleepiness out of his eyes. He looks around for who said his name and finds the whole gathered crowd looking over at him, and he puts on the fakest smile he has as he sees the bride looking over too. From the smile on her face, it at least seems like she didn't catch him napping. That would have been bad for business.
"I want to give a special thank you to Mr. Bayard," the bride says and Fete stands up a bit at this, not getting called Mr. Bayard often enough, but damn it, he loves it and he's going to start having all his clients call him that now. Who cares if he's years younger than them? "This beautiful wedding would not have been put together without him and everyone else at Bayard Wedding Co.. And I can't thank you enough for still organizing the wedding after everything you've gone through recently. You've done a phenomenal job and I don't think anyone can deny that. So thank you and you deserve a big round of applause for what you've done."
The wedding guests all start clapping for him and Fete kind of wishes he could just melt into the wall and avoid all of their stares. He still keeps up the fake ass smile and holds up the champagne flute towards the bride, acknowledging her praise. He won't deny it, the praise for the work he's done is much needed right now after questioning daily if it's even worth it to keep going with his mother's business. Going into the wedding tonight, he still wasn't sure if he would continue beyond the few weddings that were booked before her death. But like, if people want to keep flattering him for it, he won't stop them. Who would ever complain about some flattery? Once the applause dies down, she resumes her speech and Fete only half listens, still contemplating what she said about him. It's nice to know that he's doing something right and not just a failure to his mother's legacy.
When they finally toast, Fete tips the glass back, drinking it all quickly before he hands the glass over to a concerned looking Florian. "I'm leaving and if anyone asks, just say I had some last minute work to do."
"Are you going to be alright?" Florian asks him, still looking at him with growing concern.
"Yeah," Fete mumbles and gives as much of a shrug as he can muster the energy for. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"For what?" Florian calls out to him as Fete starts to walk away, dragging his feet on the ground to avoid wasting energy picking them up.
Fete just turns back to him, knowing he has to keep going with his mother's legacy. It's the only thing he knows how to do and he does it well. He'll put up with the few nights a year of being fake at weddings and start dragging Atropa along with him to liven them up. "Work."
Atropa Seigal, 17
Eight Months Before The Reaping
"Atropa!"
She doesn't even glance up from her latest book as she keeps pedaling on the stationary bike. Both are her attempts to stay prepared for whatever the world might be throwing at her. The books are a welcome reprieve from the mundane life of Eight. And, well, the biking is more so she wouldn't die first from being incapable of running if she ever got chased by a serial killer or something. But then again, getting caught and stabbed might just be her fate.
But apparently whatever life is throwing her way with fate today is her angry mother.
Atropa can hear footsteps approaching her as she keeps on reading Dracula, her legs slowing as she gets absorbed into the book. "Atropa, what the hell are you doing?"
Atropa waits until she finishes the page of her book before slowly bringing her eyes up to look over at her mother standing halfway down the stairs into the basement, hands on her hips and looking unhappy with Atropa like usual. She holds up the book to her mother and keeps cycling away before getting back to reading. "I think it's rather obvious what I'm doing."
Tulle Seigal sighs loudly as she finishes walking down the stairs and closer to her eldest daughter, unaware that Atropa isn't paying attention anymore, already back in her book. "Atropa, you cannot sit down here and just waste away your life reading."
"I'm not just sitting," Atropa gestures down at the bike, only making her mother sigh once more before suddenly snatching the book out of Atropa's hands. "Hey!" she yells as she tries to grab it back, only managing to get her foot caught on the stationary bike and send her toppling to the ground, bringing the bike with her. As she sits up, Atropa rubs her elbow and stares up at her mother smugly holding her book. "You're going to regret talking the book."
Tulle simply rolls her eyes, never one to put up with her cryptic daughter. "Yeah, yeah, some bad fate is going to come to me for taking away your book. What will it be this week? I trip on the sidewalk? Get the stomach flu and start uncontrollably vomiting?"
Atropa stands up, brushing off her pants before picking up the bike, taking her time to come up with her response so she can analyze what might happen for her mother taking her book. "A fractured marriage," she answers ominously, knowing her father will take her side in this situation since he gave her the novel.
But Tulle just laughs without humor as she takes Atropa's elbow and starts leading her over to the stairs. "You're not as observant as you think if you can't see that any marriage is exhausting to deal with after this many years. Now come on, we have to get this order done today."
Atropa pulls her elbow free but follows after her mother, accepting this is her fate today. "Can I at least have my book back? It was a gift to me, not you."
"Not until the order is out," Tulle responds without looking back at her as they reach the ground floor that acts as their family shop, with the two floors above being their living space.
"Look what the cat dragged up," her father jokes as Atropa is led into the work station and her mother points her over to the empty boxes that need to get packaged up with the fine fabrics the Seigal family manufactures.
"Hmm I'd call her a dog instead," Atropa answers him and it takes a moment for Domett to register the double meaning of what she said. When he does, he starts laughing but turns it into a cough when he gets a glare from his wife. "Alright what overindulgent Capitolite are we shipping stuff out to today?"
"Atropa, you need to watch your damn mouth!" Tulle scolds her but Atropa just stares at her with a blank stare, unable to muster up the energy to be angry. "What do I need to do to get you to embrace the fact that this is your life? Someday this store will be yours but if you're so ungrateful for the comfy life it's given you for years, well, I'm sure Clothos will gladly take over. You're seventeen. You need to start thinking about what you're going to do with your life."
Atropa simply gives a half-hearted shrug at this, only making her mother grow more irritated at her seemingly lack of caring. Not that she doesn't care about her life. She's very glad to be born in a wealthy family. But what's the point in planning ahead when everything is just up to fate? She'll just take whatever life decides to throw at her. And today that means packing up a bunch of fabric for someone way richer than them.
"I'll do your mindless task," Atropa tells her mother, accepting that her plans for the day have been derailed. But no matter, she can just get back to it later before she goes to see Fete. "Just give me my book back."
"No, I don't trust you not to abandon your work and start reading again," Tulle shakes her finger at Atropa as the bells on the shop door ring, calling her away to deal with a customer. She tosses the book over to her husband and Atropa lets out a noise of protest at the disgraceful way she handled the book. "Don't you dare give it to her until the boxes are packed up."
"Yes, ma'am," Domett even gives his wife a salute at this, only making her sigh and shake her head as she goes to talk to the customer. He starts laughing once she's gone and gently tosses the book back over to Atropa. "For both of our sakes, please don't start reading again until we're done. She's right, this is an important order to get out."
Atropa stares at the book longingly for a few seconds before setting it aside, knowing she can't keep reading yet. Fate's decided that she has to wait. She looks at one of the boxes that's partially packed to read the name on it. "Morvay-Maxwell?"
"Very important customers," her father tells her as she starts walking around the storage area, searching for the fabrics labeled with the last names. "Married couple, both retired. One used to be a Games stylist and the other was an escort."
Atropa glances over her shoulder at that, a bit surprised people so important are buying fabric from them and not from someone in the Capitol. "Probably a good payout then."
"It is," Domett tells her as she finds the fabric and takes it to wrap up in paper to avoid damage during transport. "Sonja wouldn't stop talking all excitedly on the phone when placing the order about making outfits for her family to wear to the victory tour party."
Atropa nods her head, mind going to thoughts of the Capitol and their parties. So much decadence that could be sent to the other Districts. And yet, a part of her wants to get all dressed up and appreciate all the fine art they have to offer. What she would give to attend the theater there or some university lectures. But life fated her to a simple life in Eight.
Oh well. Nothing she can do about it.
"In fact," her father keeps talking away, knowing Atropa is still listening to him despite her not partaking in the conversation at all. There's just more mentally stimulating conversations she would rather spend energy on and gossiping about Capitolites she's never met is not one of them. "I was able to get you something as a bit of an early birthday gift."
"My birthday is ten months away," Atropa looks over at him, almost wondering if he mixed up her birthday with the twins. "Are you already losing your memory?"
"Yes, I know that," Domett tells her, shaking his head at her but still having a bit of a smile on his face. "But when you go to this, it's only going to be four months early." He holds up a finger to her as he goes over to his cluttered desk and digs around in one of the drawers before pulling out two small pieces of paper. He brings them over to her, still holding on to them for a minute. "I know how much you love reading Shakespeare and when the university announced they were going to be putting on some shows next year, I had to buy you tickets."
He finally hands her over the two tickets and Atropa's eyes light up when she reads the show they're performing. "Romeo and Juliet? One of Shakespeare's best tragedies. But why two tickets? I'm fine with going on my own."
"I figured you could bring Fete with you," Domett responds and gets a mischievous smile that tells Atropa exactly where he's going with this. "It could be like a…oh I don't know, maybe a date?"
"Sure, Dad," Atropa answers him, fighting off an eye roll as she tucks the tickets in her book to not lose track of them. She's long since lost track of how many times her family has insinuated she should marry Fete. Today she's just amused by it. "There's a tiny problem with that," she tells him as she gets back to packing up the fabric, wanting to finish quickly now so she can go tell Fete about the show and make sure he doesn't have to work that evening. Even if he's probably going to sleep through the show, she can't wait to go with him. And it's not often that she looks forward to something like this.
"But he's a nice young man!" Domett tells her, still insisting on her ending up with her best friend. "You should be with him!"
"Not going to happen, even if he wishes he could find someone like me to date," Atropa chuckles and shakes her head as she checks the package order. Maybe someday her family will stop insisting she marries her best friend.
But fate has decided that today is not that day.
Fete Bayard
Five Months Before The Reaping
Fete's woken up by the sound of the front door shutting and he looks around briefly, not even able to muster the concern that it might be someone breaking in. But he quickly recognizes Atropa's footsteps approaching and shuts his eyes once more, really struggling to get energy to do anything today. He hasn't been able to bring himself to have the energy to do much at all since getting surgery a month ago. But he peeks open one eye and glances down at his now flat chest before shutting it once more, knowing it was so worth the pain and exhaustion. Well, the exhaustion isn't new, but this level of it is new.
Only thing he regrets is not having the energy to cook up a special meal today for Norman's birthday. But that's what friends are for.
One of his cats runs across his chest as Atropa enters the room and he groans at the pain. He opens his eyes as his best friend sits down in the kitty cuddle pile, immediately getting surrounded by cats and leaving Fete alone. "I've been betrayed by my own cats."
"That's life for you," Atropa answers him as she picks up Norman, kissing the top of his cute little head a bunch of times. "There's the birthday boy!" Norman squirms away from her and she pouts at this, but Pierre soon climbs onto her lap, letting out very loud meows until she starts scratching the top of his head. Atropa looks over at Fete as Coco moves back over to Fete, nudging his arm out of the way so she can climb under his jacket. "How are you feeling today?"
"Like I was hit by a truck," Fete mumbles through a yawn and he rubs his eyes, cringing as the movement tugs on his healing scars. "And sad I didn't have the energy to finish making a new sailor outfit for Norman's birthday."
Atropa gently picks up Pierre so she can reach into her pocket. She flops down into the pile of pillows, scooting next to him without bumping into him too much to hurt him. She holds out a small knit thing to him and he takes it as he gets a big yawn that turns into a groan as his chest stretches. "Did you really think I wouldn't make something for my favorite's birthday?"
Fete holds up the knitted thing to his face, staring at it for a few moments before realizing the it's a small little sailor hat for Norman. He gets a small smile at it before calling over Norman and slowly sits up. "Come here, Norman," he picks up his little boy, getting a bit of a growl from him not wanting to be held and shushes him before tying the hat to his head. "Be nice, your aunt made you a very nice hat for your birthday."
Fete pats his head once the ribbon is tied and lets go of Norman, letting him run a couple feet away before sitting down and looking over at them. "God he's so fucking cute," Atropa says as Fete lays back down, using up way too much energy to sit up. "I'd die for Norman."
"I know," Fete says as he holds back a yawn and starts getting snuggly again in his kitty pile. Bobby curls up next to him right away and Fete starts absentmindedly petting his head as he shuts his eyes, just wanting to go back to sleep. He knows Atropa won't mind him sleeping while she's here, it's happened pretty much every day that she's spent at his house with him.
He can hear some rustling of paper from next to him, along with the purring of his cats as they cuddle around him and Atropa. He can't imagine a better place to be right now than surrounded by those he loves the most in the world. "What sort of garbage are you reading now?"
"Not reading, looking," Fete mumbles as Atropa starts flipping through the pages. He can already feel himself slipping into another nap as she scoffs at the magazine. He opens one eye to see Atropa holding up the magazine above her. "Inspiration."
Atropa turns her head towards Fete, just to look at him as she shakes her head. "I need to give you better books to read while you're just laying around."
"Or I could just sleep," Fete responds, shutting his eye again to go back to napping. "Or plan ahead."
"Hmm," Atropa responds, but lets Fete just rest as she keeps flipping through the magazine, scoffing occasionally and laughing at what it says. Fete really only bought it for the pictures, but at least she's finding amusement in the absurd rumors the Capitol makes up. "Aura's wedding looks nice."
"Ya," Fete mumbles out, already having stared at all of it. Getting to organize a victor's wedding would be the greatest accomplishment his company could achieve, but unsurprisingly, the victor from One didn't pick him to plan her wedding.
"Did Emilio really wear a dress? Interesting choice but okay then," Atropa says quietly to herself, still chuckling a little. "You could have done better."
Fete hums at this, knowing it's the truth. The wedding wasn't bad, but he's seen better by his own hands. And he never would have put her in a princess style gown. Her stylist wasted her tall figure by not putting her in a sheath silhouette. But if she wants to look like that, whatever, her choice to not look as stellar as possible.
He opens his eyes as Atropa starts laughing more at the magazine, curious what she could have found so funny. "Read this," she tells him pointing at a small passage.
Fete sighs at having to waste energy on reading Capitol trash. But since Atropa told him to, he starts reading it, knowing she wouldn't have told him to read anything below her usual philosophical stuff or old classic novels unless he would be amused. 'Who will be the next victor to get married? The readers have voted and the top choice was Jory and Emilio, with Glenwood and Caladium in second, and in a close third place, Astrid, who is rumored to be dating one of the Capitol's very own, Mariposa Morvay-Maxwell!'
Fete lets out a noise at this, alerting Atropa to being done reading it. She tosses the magazine away, making Coco jump up to go investigate it and leaving a cold spot next to him. "Nooo, come back," Fete sighs loudly at this and turns to look at Atropa. "Thanks."
"Oh she'll be back, don't worry," Atropa tells him and he just shuts his eyes again, not wanting to face her snark slipping out. That would require too much energy. "Why are they voting for Astrid to be next to get married if it's only just rumored that she's dating someone? But maybe if they're already speculating on these two getting married, it's just fated that they're meant to be together."
"Or the Capitol will gossip about everything," Fete tells her, being all too familiar with Capitol gossip from reading their magazines over the years for fashion inspiration.
"Perhaps that's what is fated," Atropa says ominously and Fete just shakes his head at her, but his lips turn up in the faintest hint of a smile at her speculations on fate. "Well she better pick you to plan the wedding."
"Yeah…" He answers sleepily, too tired to tell her that it's unlikely the wedding will even happen because she'll just respond that it's fate or something. "That's the goal, get a victor's wedding and not have to work for months after with how much they pay."
"Make that fate yours, my friend," Atropa tells him and he feels movement from her, making him open up his eyes again to stare up at her. "Alright you sleep while I get together a special birthday meal for Norman."
"You're the best," Fete tells her as she starts walking away.
Atropa waves over her shoulder at him and calls back at him, "I know."
Once Atropa is out of the room, Fete closes his eyes once more and pulls Finch closer to him, wanting to cuddle with the fluffy ragdoll cat right now. Finch starts purring immediately and climbs onto his shoulder, putting her face right up against his neck and making her purrs loud in his ear.
Fete sighs in contentment, about as happy as he can get without putting too much energy that he doesn't have into the emotion. He has cats cuddling with him and his best friend over to help him celebrate one of his kitties' birthday. Plus he hasn't had to work for a month thanks to the surgery that's helped reduce some of his dysphoria. Life isn't too bad.
If only he wasn't so exhausted and unable to fully enjoy it.
Atropa Seigal
Two Months Before The Reaping
Today is a rare day when Atropa is actually glad fate decided to put her in District Eight. Of all the District universities to have a focus on the arts, she didn't expect it to be Eight, but she is not complaining. Not when she got to see her one of her two favorite plays be brought to life.
Her mind hasn't been able to stop analyzing the production since the standing ovation and now her friend is being subjected to her speculations as they try to get out of the theater with the rest of the crowd. She keeps one arm hooked through Fete's to not lose her sleepy friend. "I'm thoroughly impressed with the use of fake blood to make Juliet's death look realistic. The actress playing Juliet wasn't bad, but I think I could do better. What do you think?"
Fete lets out a grunt at this and Atropa looks down at him, finding him struggling to keep his eyes open, even though he's standing. "You slept through the whole thing, didn't you?"
Fete looks over at her with eyes lined with dark circles and he blinks a couple times, clearly struggling to bring up the energy to respond. "It was dark and the seats were comfy."
"Fair, my friend," Atropa responds before looking forward, wondering why they're all at a standstill while trying to get out. "What's the hold up?"
From their spot at the top of the stairs, she has a great view down at the crowd, a real lucky stroke of fate. She finds the crowd slowed by a small group of the victors trying to leave the show, just like the rest of them, that's gathering a lot of attention thanks to last year's Games. Atropa can just barely see the top of Clark's head as he tries to keep himself hidden from people as he pulls his boyfriend along with him. A sharp voice is cutting through the crowd, surely belonging to the redhead victor that mentored Clark. "Oi, give him some fucking space!"
Astrid pushes someone aside before glancing back at a woman with her that Atropa doesn't recognize and with her face partially covered, thanks to the hat she wears over her dark brown hair. But from what she can see of the woman, she can tell she's cute. "Did Astrid find a girlfriend? Lucky woman, whoever fate decided should end up with Astrid."
"Sure," Fete responds before grunting at someone pushing into them from behind.
"Move it, brats," the guy says as Atropa looks back at him, his words slurred a bit. He holds on to his friend's shoulder and up close, his breath reeks of alcohol. She doesn't know why someone would get drunk to see a play, especially a tragedy like this one, but that's college students for you.
Atropa glances at her friend and is ready to just ignore the drunk before seeing her friend looking unhappy at getting shoved. Well, as unhappy as he can actually muster the energy to show. So she turns back to him and tells him ominously, "You're going to fall down the stairs and hurt yourself."
"Yeah, okay weirdo," the guy sarcastically responds before laughing with his friend and shoving past Atropa and Fete.
Atropa keeps watching him as they keep pushing people aside to start going down the stairs. And sure enough, after a few seconds, the guy trips and tumbles down a few steps, knocking a couple people down with him and making people cry out. "See? Fate is speaking through me, Feet Boy."
"Or he's drunk and anyone could see he's likely to fall," Fete retorts, pointing out what seems like the obvious answer to what happened.
But Atropa knows better and laughs as she leads Fete away from them. They start making their way around the crowd stopping to help the fallen people and she feels no remorse for the guy. He should have listened to her, but he chose not to. "Don't deny me my powers of fate."
"Sure," Fete says through a yawn and Atropa just keeps moving along, knowing she needs to get her friend back home so he can get some sleep. Soon enough, they finally make it out of the theater and out into the calm spring night.
Atropa takes a moment to breath in, smiling a bit at the night. Early spring is just the best time of the year…no more snow, but it's not as hot as the devil's armpit yet. "Come on," Atropa tells Fete, leaning into his arm to steal some of his warmth before leading him on. She should have worn a jacket because her knit sweater is not enough to keep her warm tonight. "Let's get you home to your cats."
"Please," Fete tells her, voice showing just a hint of emotions from him. It's not a surprise at all to her that one of the rare things to bring enjoyment to his life are his cats. After what fate has given him so far in life, the poor guy deserves some happiness from his cats.
Fete stays silent as they walk back, allowing Atropa's mind to run wild as she thinks over the play they just watched. She knows there's no point in talking to Fete about it since he slept through the whole thing, which was what she expected from her friend. If he can fall asleep standing in the middle of the busy city, he was going to fall asleep in the dark theater. But no matter, he needs the naps. Atropa at least enjoyed the show. Someday she'll talk Fete into auditioning for the lead roles if they do another run of it. She just adores the star-crossed lovers and yeah, her and Fete might be the farthest from being star-crossed lovers as possible, but she knows they would nail the roles.
"You know, I just love how they're fated to die from the very start," Atropa says out loud, getting a grunt from Fete that tells her he's at least listening to her analysis of the play. "Literally in the prologue the audience is told exactly what will happen and we're destined to watch this tragedy play out… And the two lovers are just doomed to die, but at least their death fulfills a cause of getting their families to stop." Atropa sighs at the thought of the play, loving a good romantic tragedy. "Fate is just beautiful."
"Thank you, I know I am," Fete mumbles and Atropa looks down at him for a second before shaking her head at him actually cracking a joke about the pronunciation of his name.
"Sure, Feet Boy," she teases him, getting a scoff in return. "Not what I meant but go for it. Take it as a confidence booster."
"Don't need it," Fete grunts out before falling quiet again, leaving Atropa to shake her head a bit at him. But she's happy to have him being confident in his appearance after years of watching him struggle through the awkwardness of their teen years.
They stay quiet again as they finish making their way to Fete's house, located not too far from the university, thanks to its location close to the market area. Fete just lets Atropa unlock it with her key that he gave her and she gently shoves him inside, worried he'll start falling asleep soon standing up. Atropa crouches down as they're greeted by five cats, the sixth one slowly following after the rest of them and meowing loudly. "Go lay down, I'll feed them."
Fete grunts out acknowledgement of this and starts walking into the house as Atropa heads towards the kitchen, the cats following her and crying for their dinner. "I know, your Daddy is late to feed you. That's my fault for keeping him out late." Atropa pets Norman's cute little head before he moves out of her reach and she gets back to grabbing their food containers. "Maybe I'll give you a special treat once Fete's in bed. I think you deserve a treat for being good kitties."
Once six bowls are filled and the meowing has quieted down, Atropa starts looking through the house for where her friend went, not finding him in the kitty pile or his bedroom. She knows where he is, the only other place he would be and heads towards his mother's office. Atropa finds him with his head resting on the desk, already starting to snore lightly, hand clutching an empty glass holding the remnants of the scotch he needs to sleep soundly.
Atropa just sighs at him falling asleep at the desk and grabs a blanket from the other room to put over her friend. She doesn't approve the nightly drinking and part of her is worried he'll end up the same way as his mother. And yet, she knows it's what he needs to sleep at night and not be reminded of the shitty things fate has thrown at him already in his short life so far.
Fete stirs briefly as Atropa tucks the blanket around him, peeking open one eye just to look up at her and mumble out something sounding vaguely like 'Thank you'.
Atropa just pats the top of his head before leaving the room, closing the door most of the way to not wake him if she makes any noise but allow cats to still get in there. She heads back out to the living room, grabbing her bag as she goes and taking out her latest book from her father. With a content sigh, she flops down in the kitty pile and slowly starts getting surrounded by cats as she opens up her book to where she left off.
Now this is a great life fate has given her.
Devrek 'Dave' Pecivo, Escort for District Eight
Dave's been preparing for the Reaping and his big debut for a long time now. And by a long time, he totally means he started practicing last night. But he was the best recorder player back in the fourth grade and skills like that don't just fade away over the years. Like he's totally going to be the next Mozart or something. Or at the very least the next Aineon.
Man he is so lucky to have Aineon last year give him the inspiration to know what will help him stand out as an escort. It wasn't going to be his extravagant style of t-shirts and cargo shorts, that's for sure, even if a guy can dream that his casual outfit will win over someone. But playing the recorder? That sealed the deal with getting him the job and he was put in Eight – Eight! – of all places. Five would have been better so he could get Letha to adopt him, but Eight! With Astrid, the slay queen, and Clark!
He can't wait to ask them to play the recorder with him.
Dave takes a deep breath from backstage, although he's disappointed that he's stuck backstage and not at the back of the crowd like Aineon got to do last year. But no matter, he has his trusty recorder in hand, and he's ready to go.
He was not ready to go.
Dave starts to play the sweeping melody of his favorite song, My Heart Will Go On, as he walks out on the stage. The song was an easy choice for him, just resonating deep in his heart and making him so angsty. He keeps playing through the squeaks and even messing up some of the notes. So maybe he's not the nineteen year old champ of playing the recorder, but he's still the fourth grade champ.
"Yo, what up everyone!" Dave says when he finally stops playing, chuckling a bit at himself as the crowd watches on with apprehension. "I'm your new escort, Devrek Pecivo, but you can call me Dave, or 'That guy!' or even just 'Recorder Dude'. But if you don't remember my name, that's cool, not all of us are as memorable as Aineon – the dude's a legend – but we can try."
Dave grins out at the crowd, waiting for some sort of response from them, but they stay silent, watching him with concern. He turns back towards the victors, hoping that he managed to impress the team he'll be working with over the course of the Games, just wanting to be accepted into their fam. But Astrid gives him a cold glare that slays him right then and there, and he's torn between fear and appreciation for the woman as he turns back to the crowd. "Alright, cool, yeah, we can like, get started then."
Dave looks between the two glass spheres, still holding on to his trusty recorder, and contemplates what to do. He shrugs before heading to the first one and finds a slip of paper that stands out to him or something – are the escorts supposed to just know who to pick? Ah, whatever, he's sure whoever it is will be cool.
"Alright, alright," Dave says loudly into the microphone and lets out a whoop of excitement. "First up we got Atropa Seigal! Come on up and claim your prize!"
Dave waits a moment and starts considering if he should play the recorder while waiting for the tributes to come up to the stage, but he didn't practice very many songs and he's the best at My Heart Will Go On. He can't repeat the same song. But Atropa doesn't keep him waiting, which is cool, and heads up to the stage, barely looking like she's bothered at all by being reaped. "Hey, welcome, welcome!" Dave says to the girl as she reaches the stage, standing well above his short stature. "How are you feeling? Want me to play a song?"
Atropa stares at him with a cool stare that starts to unnerve him just a little bit before speaking up to him, "I can think of a lot of things that would be more enjoyable than listening to you play more."
"Ouch, harsh critic," Dave says and jokingly places a hand over his heart. "Guess I gotta keep practicing for your victory tour."
"I would encourage it," she shrugs at him as the crowd laughs from her comment and she turns out to face them, looking accepting of being chosen. "I guess this is just fate getting chosen and there must be a reason. I'll figure that reason out and take my fate."
"Cool, cool," Dave nods his head at her, not quite knowing what she's talking about, but going with it. He brushes off her comments about practicing more, knowing he's no Aineon yet, but he has the confidence to laugh at himself. "Alright I guess I'll pick the other tribute?"
Dave tucks away his recorder in one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts as he goes to the second glass sphere to pick the next tribute. He kind of just picks the paper at random and just hopes for the best that they'll turn out cool. Once back at the microphone, he grins out at the crowd as he tries to figure out how to pronounce the tribute's name. "And then we have…Feta? Feet? Yeah, lets go with Feet Bayard."
"It's pronounced fate!" someone yells out from the crowd, immediately drawing everyone's attention over to him. The guy looks around at everyone before quickly walking up to the stage. Before Dave can even say anything to him, Fete grabs onto the microphone and leans towards it, holding it uncomfortably close to his mouth. "You better take care of my cats in case I come back with a vengeance. Or else I will haunt you from the grave."
Fete lets go of the microphone to give a weird handshake to Atropa before stepping back, looking too tired to express anymore emotions about this. "Alright," Dave starts, not quite sure what to make about Fete's words and the fact that these two seem to know each other. "Cats are cool. Not as cool as Velour and Clark's dogs but-" Dave cuts off with a glare from Fete at implying his cats aren't cool and he quickly moves on. "Oh-kay then! Oh wait, I was supposed to ask for volunteers, right?" He looks back at the victors, trying to get confirmation about this. But Clark is just staring down at the ground, Astrid is just shaking her head as she holds back a snicker, and the others won't look at him.
So Dave shrugs and turns back to the crowd. "I guess I'll ask now? Any volunteers?" No one calls out, so he shrugs at them. "That's alright, we can't all be as brave and confident as me. I'm sure Atropa and Fete here will do great!"
Dave grins at the two of them, all jokes aside, knowing he wants to help these two out. But as they look at each other, both with a pained but determined look on their faces, it slowly starts to set in to him that they're people only a year or two younger than him. They're not just people he watches on screen and is detached from.
He doesn't know much about what he's supposed to do, but he'll do his best. And hopefully get them to play the recorder with him and the victors.
Time for one last update of 2018! Big thank yous to Little Knight Mik, OfficialBengy, and david12341 for Fete, Atropa, and Devrek respectively! I hope I did well with them! It was a blast writing two tributes that are best friends before the reaping and getting to include them in each other's sections. And of course, Devrek was great for being a walking meme lol. And you bet I took every opportunity to write about Fete's cats lol.
As always, what do you think? Did you expect Fete and Atropa to know each other? How are these two going to handle going into the Games together? What costume would you make for a cat? And what song would you request Devrek to play on the recorder?
I hope you all have had a great year and an even better 2019. If you're going out tonight, have fun and be safe! I will see you all in 2019 for District Nine! We're getting there, only three more intros to go!