Ashe Illyrian, 14
Victor of the One-Hundredth, Fifty-Third Hunger Games
The scars on Ashe's arm itch as she rises to the stage, but Ashe keeps her hands firmly at her sides. The Capitol wanted them lasered off before her interview, but she won't let them.
If they get rid of the scars, then Ashe might forget what she had to do to get here.
Meadow doesn't understand. She thinks Ashe is crazy for wanting the reminder to stay there, because apparently having to come back to the Capitol every year is reminder enough.
The voice of Alastair McKinley rings in her ears, and she answers, judging by the roar of the audience and the grin on Alastair's face. He invites her to sit, and Ashe bunches up the ends of her sleeves in her hands. They put her in long sleeves and pants for a reason. They're trying to hide the evidence.
The Capitol doesn't want to see the evidence on her skin—but they certainly want to see the evidence on her mind.
Alastair asks her questions. Ashe answers the questions. At least, she's pretty sure she does. Alastair continues to talk like she is, but her ears are ringing and she's unsure of what is actually coming out of her mouth. It must be good. The audience is laughing. The audience is cheering. The audience is reveling in her suffering.
Then suddenly the recap is on and Ashe is unable to look away from the screen. She watches with a carefully neutral expression on her face, trying to drag up all that strength she had in the arena.
(That strength is gone, because Ashe thought she didn't need it anymore. Sure, maybe Ashe doesn't have to kill to survive anymore, but there is a whole new mess she has to wade through now.)
She doesn't find that strength, but somehow she manages to watch it all. Remembering recaps of yore, Ashe tries to divorce herself from her what is actually happening on screen. Instead, she tries to decide what story they're telling.
(It's easier to imagine it's a movie. It's easier to imagine that that is some other girl with blood on her hands.)
The story is apparent almost immediately. It's a rise and a fall. The pre-games section mostly focuses on Ashe and her allies. The other tributes get their moments, but it's obvious what they're trying to do.
They're setting up Ashe gaining her allies, her rise, so they can show her losing her allies, her fall.
And that's just how it goes. Lyndie dies, and Ashe avenges her. Lana dies, and Ashe says that she made her choice. Eris dies, and Ashe can do nothing but watch her fall.
Once they reach the other arena, the other tributes start to take over more. Ashe figures it's because there is no story to develop with her and Ainsley right now. They are separated and alone. So it's okay. Ashe watches a twelve-year-old get eaten alive, but it's okay.
The horror just isn't there. Ashe is detached from what she is witnessing. Her ears are ringing. Everything seems far away. It's as if she is watching herself from above, watching herself sit on a couch watching herself fight in the Hunger Games.
It's not so bad. Everything is muffled and muted. It feels wrong but somehow it feels safe.
She crashes back into her body at the sound of splashing, of her own voice saying she's sorry, and then the screen goes black.
(Her head hurts.)
It's silent for a moment before there's a declaration that Ashe Illyrian is the Victor of the One-Hundredth Fifty-Third Hunger Games. Ashe knows it didn't go like that. Meadow said she was dead for thirty-seven seconds before they managed to bring her back.
And then it's over, and then Alastair is shaking her hand and thanking her for being there, and then Ashe is off of the stage and everything is blurry.
Meadow and Brice usher her away, and the scars start to itch again.
Ashe drags her sleeve up and scratches absentmindedly for a moment. Meadow notices and offers her a hand to hold.
They return to the District Eleven floor in the tribute tower, but not for long. Ashe's stylist and prep team touch up her makeup and fix her hair, and then she's whisked away to the coronation.
The crowd is thundering in her ears again, joining the ringing in attempting to break Ashe's brain.
Graciela Purdue's smile seems genuine, but Ezra Renius's does not. She attempts to smile back, unsure if she got it right, and then she looks down at the crown in Purdue's hands.
The approximate smile drops.
Sunflowers. The crown is woven from sunflowers.
Ashe clenches her hands around her sleeves again, trying to keep the smile on her face as the crown is placed on her head.
Renius smiles harder and says that he's always loved sunflowers.
The sound echoes around Ashe's ears, and she nods as if she agrees.
(If she ever sees another sunflower again, it will be too soon.)
The little yellow petals peek into the top of her vision, and Ashe finds herself back in a cave, standing halfway in a door emblazoned with the Capitol seal.
Ainsley throws the sunflower, the little sewn sunflower that represents their connection, and it sinks into the water and disappears.
Ashe grabs the crown, throws it off her head, and smashes it onto the stage.
Purdue and Renius turn around suddenly, and then Ashe loses the plot. Meadow and Brice are there, taking her off stage, saying things Ashe doesn't hear. The Capitol is wiping by outside the window, and they're racing toward the sky, and Ashe is sitting on a couch with a cup of tea in her hands, and the escort is saying something, and Ashe tosses the cup down on the ground and runs for her bedroom.
She closes and locks the door, and everything that is suspended above her comes crashing back in. She rolls up her sleeves and runs her fingers over the scars. Inflamed and pale against her dark skin, Ashe suddenly wants them gone. She pulls her sleeves back down again.
Across the room, the dresser looms. Ashe stares it down, crosses the room, and fishes out the journal from behind it.
I aced a test today…
We're going to watch a movie tonight…
Mom has a cold…
I wore a hole in my favorite pair of socks…
It's getting colder and I need a new jacket…
The trees are getting leaves again!
The Reaping is tomorrow…
Ashe snaps the journal shut and throws it across the room. That's not her writing, not anymore.
She doesn't understand how she was ever interested in such mundanity. Was her life really ever so simple that she felt the need to write about a hole in her socks?
She'll never get it back. She'll never be that Ashe again.
Ashe takes a deep breath and moves to stand by the windows. The Capitol below is still partying. On a screen across the street, the finale is playing.
Ainsley is charging through the water, and Ashe is charging through the water, and Ashe cannot look away. She can't hear the sounds through the window, but she remembers every noise perfectly.
On screen Ashe lunges for the microwave, and there's a shot of both of them lying motionless in the water.
Ashe draws the curtain and sits down on the ground.
Her plan worked. This is what she wants. She wanted to win. She found a way to do that. She feels like she should be happy.
Maybe she should have just died in the arena. Maybe she should have just let Ainsley win.
Well, she supposes, everyone did always say she was too smart for her own good.
A/N: Well, it's only been like three and a half years but we finally have a Victor.
Sorry for how long this took. I lost the original version and then life got super busy. But it's done now so here we are.
EULOGIES:
Second Place – Ainsley Platte, District Nine Female. Electrocuted to death by Ashe Illyrian (D11F).
God, Ainsley. Ainsley has always been such a joy to write. She was one of those tributes where the moment I saw her form I knew what I wanted from her. Her story changed as time went on and it definitely became more entwined with Ashe's. They just worked so well together and made an incredible pair with or without their allies. Ainsley will forever hold a special place in my heart (a similar place to Lammy and Warren). She's just very unique and fun to mess with. RIP.
First Place – Ashe Illyrian, District Eleven Female.
First of all, Moose, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. Ashe just needed her time to sit, I guess. Ashe has always been the Victor. About three months into this story, I chose Ashe, and I've never gone back. Really, there was no competition. I loved a lot of the other tributes in this story, but none of them ever came close to how much I wanted Ashe to win. It was always Ashe. Ashe is a tribute who led a pretty simple life, with few hardships, which makes it just that much more fun to take her to her limits. She was just one of those tributes who grabbed ahold of me and wouldn't let go, wouldn't let me pick anyone else for the Victor. It was always going to be her, even as I chose other tributes to rescue from the arena. Ashe always had to win, not just survive.
KILL COUNT:
Calista: 2 (Larch, Quinn)
Shad: 2 (Larch, Scoria)
Scoria: 1 (Larch)
Wonder: 1 (Afandina)
Bayou: 2 (Lana, Sterne)
Sterne: 2 (Everett, Bayou)
Liesel: 1 (Jayce)
Larch: 1 (Mercury)
Navarro: 2 (Lyndie, Darwin)
Ainsley: 2 (Ishtar, Shad)
Ashe: 2 (Navarro, Ainsley)
Quinn: 1 (Ottilie)
Ishtar: 1 (Liesel)
Gravity: 1 (Eris)
It's A Small World dolls: 1 (Geo)
Explosion: 2 (Calista, Tam)
Heimlich: 1 (Wonder)
It's probably going to be a while before the next epilogue is out, simply because life is going to be very busy for me for at least the next month.
-Amanda