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Ashe Besra

I won't let them break me down.

0 · 784 views · located in Panem

a character in “The 25th Hunger Games”, as played by Korrye

Description

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Name: Ashe Besra - Ashe for the tree type (her father's favorite) and Besra after the variety of hawk.
Nicknames: Her name is simple enough for most. Her father called her Asher, however, and it's always stuck.
Age: Eighteen
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Birthday: September 15th
District: District Eight - Textiles
Weapon of choice: Lance
Talent: General survival
Weaknesses: Ashe is a compassionate and empathetic individual which if she's not careful can make her gullible. While well coordinated, she is also poor at hand to hand combat. She lacks brute strength and while she can throw a decent punch, she can't do much more unless she's armed.

Hobbies:
Given district eight's location, Ashe enjoys the outdoors and is never afraid of a little rain. She's used to being surrounded by forests, climbing trees, and using a lance like spear for fishing in the rivers close to their home. While her district's main good is textiles, she's not the type of girl to sit down and sew. Instead she prefers working with animal textiles which, while the work is hard and tedious, allows her to spend time outside. She likes to cook when they can but food is often scarce. She likes to help her mother with the dyes, collecting the necessary bugs or berries to make the inks the state wants, and even rare colors. She likes to read as well, and tell stories of when life was easier for everyone. She knows little of life before the games as she was born shortly after the dark days.

Likes:
  • Forests
  • Rainstorms
  • Dyes
  • Being outside
  • Cooking
  • Soup
  • Tea
  • Hunting
  • Stories
  • Birds

Dislikes:
  • Sewing
  • Dresses
  • Dry hot days
  • The Games
  • The Capitol
  • Crowds
  • Oatmeal
  • Cats
  • Mice
  • Trackerjackers

Fears:
As a child, Ashe fell from a treehouse several feet. The feeling of having nothing beneath her feet terrifies her - a fear of falling in general. She fears any repercussions to her actions should someone not like them, especially the Capitol. She also hates bees, wasps or specifically trackerjackers as her brother was swarmed by a fallen nest in the woods. The memory of what his body looked like and the hum they make is nearly debilitating.

Token:
A silver necklace, designed as two wings joined together - her mother's formerly and very significant to Ashe.

Personality:
Ashe is not the girly-girl some people expect her to be given her appearance. She keeps herself well put together but mostly because her family raised her to always make the best of any situation, including near poverty. That said she's not vain, she's only looking to keep herself clean. Ashe is naturally independent as from the day she was born her family had to put in long hours in the textiles factories. When they weren't on shift, her parents were spinning cloth and dying goods to sell at the local market. From a very young age, Ashe learned to be self-sufficient. While she's the middle child in her family she puts 100% into all that she does. She's intuitive and perceptive, quick to read her mother's bad moods or her father's need for something. She is solitary and has little faith in other people's ability to come through on promises. That said, she's empathetic and loves to hear a good story. If she's not careful, she can fall for a lie which only leads to further disappointment. Her inability to trust others, and at times even her own family, has led her to becoming even more of an outdoorsy solitary indidivual, fishing in the streams beyond their house with an old spear, and vending the goods her family makes for them to sell. She takes little for granted, especially when she has a full stomach. With five individuals in their house and an old bloodhound, food was scarce. While her brother and father were first to go hungry, she too would rather her mother and sister be fed than her be full. She's giving and compassionate, making her emotional and prone to private outbursts. She prefers to bottle up her emotions and appear stone-faced than to publicly lash out. That said, she can can lash out if provoked enough and hell hath no fury like an angry Ashe. She can be violent and she can become a viper with her words. Once wronged, a person is hard pressed to regain her trust.

History:
District 8 was the region her parents hailed from, and a place that given it's location was often flooded with rain and surrounded by trees. Ashe's Father, Firenze fell in love with her mother Maple when they were young. They met in school in their small town and later began to pick up shifts at the peacekeeper uniform factory together. When they married it came as no surprise to their friends and family.

Despite the near poverty they lived in, Firenze and Maple welcomed three children into their lives. Their eldest, Jasper, was born first. Four years later second came Ashe, the apple of her father's eye. Third and three years after her sister came little Heather, the spitting image of her mother. Immediately after the birth of each child, Maple would return to work, at times pulling shifts with a baby strapped to her back. Money was hard to earn despite Maple's gift with fabric and dyes. The Capitol and government wanted noting but white uniforms however. That said, Maple did the best she could to provide color for her children, especially given the industrial drab feel to their immediate surroundings.

As Ashe grew up she at first only knew of buildings, factories and soot. The hum of spinning wheels and weavers was a sound she knew well. It wasn't until she was older that her parents were able to move into a bigger house closer to the edge of the city. While the walks into the city were longer and more tedious, they encountered nature on their backdoor. Her father taught her to fish with an old spear when she was eight, taking her beyond the city walls - punishable, true - and teaching her about more than industrial machines and sewing. Firenze recognized his daughter's boredom with textiles and desire to do more than stain her hands with dyes. He taught her about the berries and bugs she needed to collect for her mother. Maple elaborated on that knowledge as she grew older. He also taught her about the trees and animals to the best of his knowledge.

At first, it was always Ashe, her father and Jasper venturing out into the backwoods. Heather was fearful of leaving and their mother was always working. Without fail they went at dawn into the back. Jasper was a talented hunter, able to snare rabbits and birds with ease. But Jasper could be clumsy and it was the death of him when he was eighteen. He'd gone out on his own that morning. Their father found him. It appeared as if he'd fallen from a tree, taking with him a tracker-jacker nest only to be swarmed and killed by their poisonous venom. His swollen and decaying body was brought in by the peacekeepers, displayed for a time in the city square. Ashe was horrified and scared to return to the backwoods. Her father grew sullen, feeling responsible for his son's death. Her mother it seemed, never forgave him.

With time, Ashe returned to the woods. A bad fall at thirteen had her nearly break her wrist but the fear stayed with her. She didn't want to end up like Jasper and as a result she was all the more cautious about how often she left the city or who she sold their goods to. As the family adjusted to Jasper's death, Ashe picked up the slack and continued on, bottling much of what she felt inside her as she dealt with their poor living conditions. If she wasn't working or fishing or collecting plants or berries, Ashe was helping their father repair their dilapidated house. Given how often it rained they were always up on the roof, patching holes and saving money for a decent tarp. Times were hard. So very hard. And as Ashe grew older, she became more bitter. Ashe knew her family's life was hard but she was not blind to the plight of her neighbours. She was sixteen when a close friend of hers died of starvation, her mother suddenly taken away for stealing cloth from one of the factories.

Worse, every year as the reaping came and went, Ashe recognized a handful of the tributes. Not one of them came back. The games came to represent oppression. Ashe's frustration only came to grow. At eighteen she felt she had escaped it, and only had to worry about Heather and making ends meet. Then her name was called and from behind her one of the richer girls snickered, shoving her in the shoulder so that she was forced to step forward. Frozen, she could only turn to look at her sister and beyond Heather, her parents. Fear welled in her stomach. No one from district eight even won. She was going to die.

Anything else?: While District 8 is relatively industrial, Ashe has little skill with complicated machines. The only thing she can manage is to unjam a sewing machine.

Your reaction to being chosen for the Hunger Games: Expression - Bitter and worried. While she has nine months to live, she knows her only hope to align with one of the stronger boys and to hone her skills with anything remotely close to her fishing spear in size and shape. She hopes to use the footage as a time to broadcast her love for her family and to her district.

So begins...

Ashe Besra's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Saffron Lockhearst Character Portrait: Zyker Lintsy Character Portrait: Solara Brinx Character Portrait: Ashe Besra Character Portrait: Yossarian Caulfield
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#, as written by Korrye
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Some said it was easy to get caught up in the lore of the games but even in her youth Ashe had been horrified by the displays put on to honor the uprisings and to punish the districts. The Capitol residents were all safe gluttonous individuals. In her short time there, Ashe had seen more than enough of the prideful inhuman looking crowds. They worried about eating too much food, about the way their hair curled or laid flat. They worried about a scuff on a perfectly fine shoe or a blemish on their skin. Their thought process seemed perfectly tedious and only had her mood further darkened.

To have so many people worry about the pallor of her skin or the clothes she wore had her irritated. While her stylist was a relatively calm and collected young man, his mind didn’t worry the way hers did. When she frowned, he threatened to pin her lips into a smile. When she brushed him away he nearly clocked her. Yolo had no patience for her bitterness or the frizz her hair became after a night's rest. Yet in the days he’d spent dressing her and trying to make her care for the interviews he’d come to realize it was far more than a tart mood. Ashe didn’t like the luxury of it all. It made her jumpy to be seated in a train car with velvet and satin seat cushions, to look beyond glass that wasn’t dusted with dyes or industrial exhaust. It wasn’t her. It was foreign and alien instead.

The interview had made Ashe feel so far from herself. Yolo had been beyond ecstatic with her scores in the training room and following her flirtatiousness with the crowd he’d been grinning over her shoulder as he teased her short blond hair that morning. “You’re marvelous, keep up the act sourpuss,” he had encouraged her with a beaming smile. She was unnerved by his excitement and more than anything she hadn't believed him.

Recalling the nickname made her wince, closing her eyes as she remembered Yolo's words. Ashe sat close to the window and as the side of her face leaned into the glass she could only sigh with relief to have escaped the Capitol for now. She had dressed earlier in the outfit she’d been given for the feast. It was all arranged given that they would enter the house in the same clothes and be seen for the first time on camera. It was all to make yet another statement, as if there was one left to give.

Ashe couldn’t help but be contrite the more she thought about the costume she’d worn for the parade, the things she’d said to Caesar and more than anything the last words she’d had with her family members before being whisked away. With the exuberance of the tributes from two and four, the lovestruck girl from twelve and her male counterpart, Ashe knew she was disappearing into a crowd. Having been collected and pleasant during her interview, even as flirtatious as she had been, did her no good. The same act had been put on by half a dozen of the other girls. She had been nice and likeable but not enough to be memorable. There was no fact that stood out. She'd confessed to liking a boy who liked another boy. Ashe felt more like a fool than accomplished.

There was the girl who’d been escorted back to her seat by peacekeepers, the boy from eleven who liked the crier even. Scandals! And then the rest seemed very obsessed with the boy from two. They were unique characters, people you empathized with and yet wanted to win. She found herself lost to the charade and hating it all the while, trying to mask her fear with a smile that she had never worn.

Sourpuss.

She could just remember Jasper saying it, her brother looking up at her from the treetops as he balanced himself on a beam, reaching out for a bundle of hidden fishing spears and tools they used to scour the land for something more edible than the bitter porridge and hard tack brought in from the factories. Memories of his swollen body filled her mind, enough to make her bite the inside of her cheek to bring her back from the reverie.

With her family so beyond reach and her brother dead, she felt completely and utterly alone. The silence of the train compartment was compounded by the sound of muffled voices from the hall. She could hear the slam of a door and the click of another as some of the other tributes began to leave for the feast. Ashe pushed her lips and looked at a small clock on the wall opposite her, feeling her cheek off the glass to stand and smooth the folds of her dress, another black lace ensemble with a leather corset cinched around her waist to show off her thin body. Sighing she moved to exit the cabin, finding that Yossarian had left already. He didn’t seem to approve of what she thought of him. When he’d mounted their chariot dressed as she had been and as hairless as she was, the blond couldn’t help but laugh. “Serves you right all things considered,” she’d thought. Now whenever she saw him, remembering the slightly mortified look on his face when she’d noticed his shaved arms and legs, she couldn’t help but smirk much to his disdain. “I always have at least one enemy.”

As Ashe entered the hallway she scanned it attentively, finding two of the female tributes down the length of the railcar talking curtly before one turned away with a blown kiss to walk away. As she squinted to take them in, Ashe recognized the male and female tributes from District 12. The lovers, she thought bitterly. They had been memorable too, especially since they had gone first and she’d nearly cried at the thought of her friend dying. The more she looked at them, the more she felt her odds slipping. The girl was loved and the boy she liked was handsome. He wouldn't want you, Ashe chided herself in thought before turning her glance away.

I’d have no problem killing Yossarian, Ashe thought bitterly, moving to walk slowly in her heels across to the feast car where the others were congregating. Her frown was gone, replaced by a weak smile and determined eyes.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ashe Besra Character Portrait: Tanager Rollo
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#, as written by Korrye
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The boy from seven was much taller than her and Ashe found herself caught between his arm and her own two feet when the train took a sharp turn and nearly had her slammed into the wall closest to her. As he braced himself, her own hands shot out for the wall, her knees bobbing together. She couldn’t help but hear the shrill tear of fabric when Tanager’s arms swooped out to catch the door frame. When they were both steady she smiled with an exhale of relief at him before ducking under his arm and passing through into the feast rail car.

What she saw before her had Ashe more nauseated than the motion of the train itself. The railcar was dominated by a lengthy table made of rich woods and gold ornate trim. The curtains were thick and heavy, lined with satin fabrics and heavy velvet. The smell of their meal was heavy in the air. She could tell the food was rich in flavor, a reality that had her stomach churning. After years of simple tasting bare bones meals, and at times extended periods without food at all, eating as well as she had been the past week had not hit her very well. She’d thrown up on the train twice after dinner, having not been able to help herself from nearly binging on the food available. In the city it had been almost a nightly occurrence with her stress. The past few days she’d simply had an upset stomach. With time it seemed that the quality of food wasn’t hitting her so hard. It was nice not to constantly feel hungry anymore. That said, the room was far beyond her comfort zone. It bled everything she wasn’t familiar with and as she took a seat closer to the far end – if anything to get a good look at everyone as they ate and to study them as they ate – Ashe could barely lean back into her chair.

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Tanager could feel the tears in his shirt. The rips appeared to have occurred along the seams lining his shoulder blades. His shirt sleeves felt loose and he was irritated by that fact. He had no other clothes to replace what he had ripped and given his build and height, he wasn’t so sure that any of the other tributes had a shirt to spare that might fit him. As he shook his head and allowed the girl from eight to pass into the feast car, he couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of walking into the house and on camera shirtless. Wouldn’t his stylist and the sponsors go insane. And no body paint either. They would have a field day.

That said, Tanager knew it would be inappropriate and slightly awkward if he ripped the thing off entirely during dinner so he simply buttoned up the first few snaps on his jacket instead. Once finished, he stepped into the feast car. At once he was struck with the delicious smells emanating from their table. Several dishes were still covered but that didn’t prevent them from filling the air with a delectable scent. Tanager couldn’t help but lick his lips, feeling his stomach roll with hunger. He had been enjoying the fact that most of their dinners came with soft rolls of bread. It was loads better than anything their local baker or his mother could have ever conjured up. They lacked decent yeast in seven and as a result their breads were often thick and heavy.

Of out eagerness and perhaps his appetite, the district seven tribute settled himself closest to the largest bread basket. He wasn’t truly bothered by the décor. If anything he was pleased with how comfortable his chair was. As he settled himself before his plate, he reclined into his seat, closing his eyes and sighed with a slight smile.