an obligatory welcome [teddy/pierre] mayor's dinner [VT]

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

A written condolence, my only true words on the letters is my name signed at the bottom. My first draft moulded so that it meets Capitol standards. I wanted to send the families hope but all they have gotten is a reused script. It was never going to last long, the festive atmosphere that arrived on the back of Miss Leviane’s return. Professionalism buried my own grief, her victory meant that my own daughter and nephew were left behind and this new profession forced me to celebrate in her success. One year on, I have to deal with two new caskets and a victor from another District.

I was in the crowd for the speeches of Miristioma and Rhodes, victors of the games that took my twins. Grief is just another part of me now; I may as well envelop it and use it for a good cause. My District is back in a familiar territory now, a state of mourning.

My second year of shaking the hand of a victor, before they step onto the overused stage to deliver their speech. I was weaned into the role by having the hand of an Eight to shake but now it is back to the reality of my job, Theodore Ursa, a member of a neighbouring District who has a similar track record to our own – at least he is not a career.

An invitation has already been sent out, an obligatory mayoral dinner with the victor. Council officials and District personalities will fill the table, none of whom I have picked myself. There is a higher up somewhere, pulling the strings and I have yet to meet them.

A well-tailored black tuxedo waits on my bed; its craftsmanship is beyond my own skills. I can see all the detail on every inch of the cloth, it will be only worn once; such a waste of effort. A different costume for every occasion and not one item of clothing that has been forced onto me, has found residence in my own wardrobe. Throughout the year, I have slipped ties and cufflinks into my drawers but every time I open them again, they are gone. I just hope they haven’t been incinerated, I have heard rumours about the Capitol waste.

I wrap the silver lined waistcoat around my steam pressed ivory shirt, before fiddling with the bowtie. Helping hands appear from behind me and they thankfully do not belong to a council busy body. The only person who has gotten be through this, my wife Abi Hope. A year long journey and she has been at my side throughout it all. She has shared it all and listened to every moan and rant, after a day’s work. Never was I ever going to be prepared, I knew that from the beginning; I don’t believe there will ever be a time where I find this job easy but it does not mean that I do not enjoy it. Hopefully I am doing them all proud, my wife, my children and all the people that reach out to me.

Since yesterday afternoon, a team of unfamiliar faces have come in and out of the dining hall of the Mayor’s house. Even through the night, I could hear their movement as they brought in the most obscure and unidentifiable objects to decorate the room. For a single meal, the dining room’s interior décor is now a mash up of the delights from Eight and Six. As soon as the seats have emptied, the twenty-hour long operation will be torn down.

A sigh rolls from my mouth, as I pear through the door, only a woman remains in the room, quickly hurrying around the table, squaring up the cutlery. There has never been a time in my life, where I have been unable to eat a meal because the knife and fork were not the exact distance from one and other. What a sad life the first person to create such traditions must have lived.

Guests already fill the entrance hall but I am quickly escorted to the star, before I am even given a chance to drop a hello to the familiar faces.

”Welcome to District Eight, Theodore…or do you prefer Teddy?” Earlier today, someone forced me to rehearse the greeting; I wonder how long it will be until I fall from the script. ”Well anyway, I hope you enjoy your short stay here.” Already, silver trays filled with crystal glasses of champagne are forced into our faces, I swipe two glasses from the waiter; alcohol will get me through this night. ”I am sure you have already had many glasses of these on your tour.” I hand one to Teddy, before offering a cheers.

On this one night, there are more bottles of champagne in this District than there has been for the entire year.

[Tom]

Eight. The home of Shelby Leviane, the Hopes, and so many others that had suffered to the pain of the games. The chance to meet them all was at hand. Rhetoric and McCarthy's homes were there, but even in that moment, all he wanted was to hide away from all the hustling of the finest that they forced him into, just like the party at the mayor's home. A party that was meant to celebrate his survival. A party that shouldn't have been thrown for him. A deep breath as he accepts that he was meant to make an appearance there. Assurance from Star that everything would go smoothly with words that made his head spin. District Eight was unique in every way that he had expected it to be. They were like his home. Victorless until the seventy fifth with Shelby Leviane. It's almost as if he's looking into the future of his own district as he walks with the Peacekeepers towards the home.

Rhetoric's failure to shoot a gun rings in his mind. The look upon Clementina's face as Rhetoric appeared with a gun pointed at her would haunt his mind forever. The way that Clementina held a sword as Rhetoric's dead body lay upon the beach of black sand resembling the sound of death that rang through the air with a cannon. Every night, he dreams of what more he could have done. The only answer had been spearing Raquel through, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't kill someone to save Rhetoric. Regret lays upon his skin, but sorrows lay even deeper. A smile to hide himself from the truth of the situation. Play the role of victor and he could make it home to where he can lock himself away with no problems. Only thoughts to keep him awake at night.

A suit of a dark blue is what they put him with gold lined pieces that shimmer in the light. A nice white shirt pressed under the coast with golden buttons that move upwards. A golden tie with spirals that swirl every other way. Black dress shoes that were going to be laced up by someone else before he stopped them, telling him he can do it himself. The outfit was gorgeous and fitted perfectly to him, but he didn't feel like himself. A sigh escapes his throat as he rubs his palm with worry. District Eight wasn't meant to be as frightening as District Four or District Three, but he can't help but feel his heart hammering out of his chest.

Arriving went the way it usually did, with people smiling at him or glaring at him. There was no grey area of reactions, only one way or the other. As soon as he turns, they lead him to the mayor, who he's never met. A man who stands in front of him with an unreadable expression. The mayor's voice comes first before Teddy can even speak. A smile still plastered across his face as his heart beats.

"Welcome to District Eight, Theodore…or do you prefer Teddy?"

It's too professional, almost fake in a way. Though, if he knew anything, the mayors were just as much under the capitol's control as he was. A smile and a gentle greeting comes from his own lips as he can remember the way Rhetoric held herself. Mannered and strong like she could do anything, until Emberly and Clementina cut her down.

"Teddy. Thank you Mayor Hope for putting this on."

Scripted words that Star had told him to do. Thank him for the dinner and the nice evening that they will have or she will not speak to him again until the Seventy Seventh. The place was beautiful with extravagant things that were supposed to be pieces of District Eight and pieces of District Six, but looked more like the things that only the rich had. As he looks to Mayor Hope, he smiles and holds himself from letting his hands shake in front of him. A hand moves a strand of his styled hair back into place.

"Well anyway, I hope you enjoy your short stay here."

A nod and a smile is all he gives before they are shoving champagne in their face. He's had enough alcohol for one year, but he still accepts the glass that is given to him, looking back to Mayor Hope.

"I am sure you have already had many glasses of these on your tour."

Enough to make him never want champagne again. Wine on the other hand, he could enjoy with every instance, but still, he wouldn't end up like the drunken victors before him. He wasn't going to fall from the good and live a life of trying to block it all away. He was going to remember every single one of the tributes in the arena with him. He was going to make sure none of them are ever forgotten by anyone because he's alive. He's breathing. He's learning about them. A small smile and a few words.

"It's still fantastic, sir. Thank you. I'll enjoy my stay in District Eight."

A silence as he sips from his glass and lets his face rest for a moment. He's on edge still from everything, but he knows that he is being watched at every corner. All he can do is smile and listen to what Mayor Hope had said. A thank you was on the tip of his tongue as he began to speak again.

"Thank you for inviting me to this lovely dinner. Tell me a bit about Eight. I'd like to know what the people who came here were like, if you can, sir."

An obligatory welcome that Teddy would use to his advantage of knowing what home was like for Rhetoric and McCarthy if he could.

He wouldn't forget them.

All he wanted was to know more about them.