"Ash Maxwell!"
As her words floated across the tree-lined plaza of District 7, Jessilica Harksley took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose, stifling a sneeze as the overwhelming aroma of pine needles harassed the remnants of her recently-plucked nose hairs. The jade veil hanging down from her fruit-laden hat did little to block the steady flow of tree pollen directly into her watering eyes and sensitive sinuses. All the more reason for haste, so she wiped her eyes clean and scanned the large cluster of young men to her left for the second Tribute she would be escorting to the Capitol.
Slowly but surely, the youths of District 7 located the Tribute in question: Ash Maxwell, located just to the left of center within the crowd. For a moment, it seemed as though he stood paralyzed with fear, the only motion from his body that of his chest rising and falling in slow breaths. But with a long expulsion of air from deep within his lungs, he gulped and nodded, walking towards the front of the crowd.
Moving through the crowd, Ash was hard to lose in the sea of bodies all around him, his shaggy brown hair standing out just slightly above the average height for most of the other boys around him. Whispers of his name hissed from voice to voice, mimicking the breeze whistling through the surround pine trees. As Ash walked, a hand would pat his shoulder or brush over his back, and in return, his own hand rested every so often on the occasional shoulder, offering a supportive squeeze that was as much to himself steady as it was to comfort them.
He forced a smile as he moved out into the open, away from the crowd where his forlorn expression could remain hidden. Two Peacekeepers flanked him immediately, moving him out of reach from the rest of the group and keeping the crowd at arms' length. Turning his head slightly, Ash scanned the faces of those on the edges of the mass, trying to keep their eyes on him the whole walk up to the stage. While the emotions were generally somber whenever a friend or classmate found him or herself chosen by the Reaping, Ash noticed a small population, about a dozen or so, with tears welling up; far more than had wept for Fiona Warder, the short, female Tribute who now stood to Jessilica's right.
Looking up towards the stage, Ash noticed Fiona peeking out at him, her green eyes concealed behind a wall of red hair, hiding her face and red, puffy cheeks. Her lips trembled as he approached the stage with his pair of guards, her fingers clutching and twisting at the hem of her shirt. For a moment, Ash hesitated, contemplating her fear while he had every reason to be afraid himself, and in that momentary hesitation, one of his dingy brown work boots kicked into the back of the other and made him stumble. He grabbed the nearer of the two Peacekeepers to try and maintain his balance, and was quickly yanked back by the other, jabbing him in the side with the butt of his rifle.
Hands up and palms out, Ash mumbled a quick placation before both Peacekeepers grabbed hold of his upper arms, controlling his movements to another such incident. They reached the stairs and released him from their grasp, and Ash offered them a forced nod of thanks before ascending the staircase to find himself assaulted by Jessilica's over-enthusiastic welcome. For a Capitol woman who, as far as he knew, never performed manual labor a day in her life, she had a surprisingly strong grip, her arm yanking his around in a frenzied handshake.
Up close and personal, Ash took a moment to evaluate the woman, whom prior to this moment he had only considered a brief intruder in his life, arriving once a year for the Reaping and vanishing and quickly as she came. He noted the extravagant emerald dress she wore, adorned with a series of gaudy gemstones, probably worth more than his family earned in a year. The veil she wore tinted her face green from his perspective, although that could hardly contain the blinding whiteness of her teeth from shining through, nor could it hide the generous slathering of mascara and eye shadow that granted her the appearance of a sickly raccoon. And of course, her ever-present wide-brimmed hat, buried under a stack of Macintosh apples, which seemed to weigh on her neck to the point of it becoming buried in her chest. Compared to his own plain, gray, button-down shirt and brown pants, Jessilica might as well have landed from the moon.
"Ash Maxwell!" Jessilica repeated as she reclaimed the podium, gesturing toward Ash with open arms and a wide, cheesy smile on her face.
A few in the crowd applauded, but quickly fell silent in tune with the overwhelming majority. Looking over into the assembled group of District 7's female population, Ash caught the eye of his girlfriend, Maya Rickardson, her long, raven hair, disheveled and hanging limp over her face as she bit into her wrist, trying not to stare at the stage. Looking up into her boyfriend's face, Maya's breath caught in her throat and she sputtered, coughing and trying to calm down. Ash's sister, Kalley, standing towards the front of the plaza with the other thirteen-year-olds, wept openly, wiping both tears and mucus on the sleeves of her dress.
The loud smack of flesh hitting flesh reached Ash's ears, and he turned back to the source to find Johanna Mason, the previous year's Victor, swinging her hands together at slow and awkward intervals. Her wrists moved fluidly as she applauded, a half-smirk crossing her mouth upon realizing that she'd gotten Ash's attention. However, a forceful clearing of the throat from Blight Kessler, the male Victor on-stage alongside Johanna, quieted her applause as she silently rolled her eyes.
"Now," Jessilica continued along with the annual ceremony's pre-planned events, "Are there any brave young men who would like to step forward and volunteer to take the place of this handsome boy?"
Ash's gaze darted back over to the male pool of potential tributes. He quickly located his younger brother, Natlan, biting his lip and sidestepping through the crowd to avoid detection. His height however, like Ash's, gave him away in comparison to the other fourteen-year-olds surround him. But Ash could hardly expect his younger brother to volunteer for him, and he knew that, instead peering back towards the eighteen-year-olds in the crowd, where his older brother, Carlin, stood silently. Tall and muscular, if oddsmakers were to look at District 7's boys to determine the most likely survivor of the arena, Carlin would easily rank high on their list. But today, he stared back at Ash and offered the subtlest shake of his head, eyes closed and mouth downturned. Reflexively, Ash's fingers coiled up into his fist and he began grinding his teeth, listening for any voice in the crowd willing to take his place.
"Anyone?" Jessilica queried, still smiling and arching her fuchsia eyebrows as if trying to entice someone to speak up, "Alright then, your loss! The official male tribute, representing District 7 in the 72nd Annual Hunger Games! Ash Maxwell!"
Once again, the only applause emanated from Johanna, who this time clapped the fingers of one hand against the palm of the other in rapid succession, her jaw straining to maintain the fake smile plastered across her face. Blight shook his head and sighed, while Jessilica, unaware of the lack of sincerity, simply smiled back at Johanna for her enthusiasm with regards to the proceedings. Ready to end the ceremony, Jessilica moved to the side and grabbed Fiona by the hand, dragging her closer to Ash so as to better appeal to the surrounding cameras.
"Go on," she beamed, "shake hands."
Ash looked down at the redheaded girl before him, barely taller than his little sister, and horrible thoughts raced through his head: viewing her as a victim, as a roadblock or impediment to his survival. He extended his hand, making the first move to try and buy himself some goodwill from the Capitol audience. He felt her pulse racing through the vein in her thumb as she accepted the handshake, trembling as their hands moved in unison. Once again, he pictured his sister and how he would react, having to watch her led off to slaughter, and he squeezed her hand gently. She looked up and he gulped, nodding slightly and offering the best reassuring smile he could muster. She blinked away tears and sniffled just once before returning the nod.
"Fiona Warder and Ash Maxwell," Jessilica's voice boomed over the audience, "may the odds be ever in your favor."
The handshake ended and both Fiona and Ash felt surprising power behind Jessilica's arms as she pushed against each of their backs and guided them into District 7's town hall.