|Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven,|
@ 2016-02-08 12:53:00
|Entry tags:||hg fics effie|
Hunger Games fic: Future Uncertain [Effie, general]
Title: Future Uncertain
Fandom: Hunger Games
Characters: Effie, Haymitch, Tigris
Length: 2875 words
Summary: Snapshots of three moments in Effie's life.
Note: This is for cruisedirector, just because.
Being a chaperone for the Hunger Games was not something that a person could train for. Not specifically. Everyone knew what the chaperones did—more or less—just from seeing them at the reapings on television, and then escorting their tributes in the days leading up to the Games. And of course the chaperone whose tribute won had the privilege of accompanying him or her on the Victory Tour that year.
No formal training, then, and new chaperones learned from talking to the more experienced one, as well as through trial and error of their own. There was no formal application process, either; it was all in who you knew, who put in a word for you in the proper places.
Effie had done what she could to secure the appointment. She went to the right parties, talked to the right people, dropped the right hints in the right ears, but even so she was more than a little surprised when she was summoned to the president's palace.
Not to meet President Snow, of course, but to be interviewed by several of the long-time chaperones and then the Head Gamemaker. Effie managed to repress her nervousness and did her best to exude the sort of bubbly personality that characterized the most successful chaperones. She was delighted to hear, a week later, that she had been appointed, but at the same time disappointed to learn which district she would oversee.
"Twelve!" she wailed to her friend Tigris, who had been a stylist for District 2 for several years. "I'll never have a winner."
Tigris shook her head sympathetically. "It's not impossible, but history is against it, you're right. They've only had two winners, ever, and now it's just that drunkard Haymitch who's still alive. You'll have to work with him, since he's the only mentor, but if he gives you any trouble, talk to me." She smiled, baring the teeth she'd had filed to feline points. "I'll see that he behaves."
"I'm sure I can handle Haymitch." Effie wrinkled her nose. "What do you think are the chances that I can move up from 12, though?"
"Put in a few years," said Tigris. "If you do a good job, you'll be in line to take over for a better district when one of the other chaperones retires. They like to have the experienced ones working with the tributes most likely to win. It's the same with the stylists, you know. Everyone starts out with one of the losing districts, like 7 or 9 or 12, but make a success of one of those and you'll move up. I don't mean having a winning tribute, necessarily, though that doesn't hurt. I mean make good television of the reaping. Think of how you can make yourself noticed."
"Like you?" said Effie, a bit doubtfully. Tigris had once been called Prisca, before she had begun the surgical transformations that had made her increasingly feline in appearance, and changed her name to match.
"Not like me." Tigris laughed. "You'd be a pale imitation if you tried. You'll need to think of something of your own, something to set you apart. It could be appearance, or a catch phrase you use, or, I don't know, something distinctive in your voice. Remember Verina?"
"Oh yes. The chaperone for District 4, years back. She practically sang every word she said. No one could forget her," Effie said. "But I don't sing."
"No, and you'll want something unique anyhow. Think about what it could be, that's my advice." Tigris gave Effie a quick hug. "Welcome to the Hunger Games. They wouldn't be the same without us, the stylists and chaperones and prep teams. Or without the mentors, for that matter, though since they're from the districts they're not really the same. They're only in the Capitol when the Games are on, poor things."
Effie nodded. She'd never thought about that much before, but Tigris was right. The mentors—the former victors—might be celebrated for their achievements in the Games, but they would never truly be part of Capitol society. Poor things indeed.