Cyril Fincher-Etheridge

## Bio

*Cervelt “Cyril”  Fincher–Etheridge (he/him). District One Tribute. 21. Archie Renaux.*

*tw: drugs, overdose, neglect*

Cyril had two last names, three if he were to count his stepdad’s. He didn’t, for the record. And if he was old enough when his parents split, he’s not sure if he would have taken his mother’s, either. It all started with his parents (naturally.) Two people who shouldn’t have had children but did anyway. And almost, as if to prove the sentiment, they only had Cyril. His father was a watchmaker; the trade had been generational – Cyril’s father’s father, his grandfather’s father– Cyril’s father wanted an heir, a student he could teach his ways. Cervelt’s mother was a career in her day, but she was never top of her class; with time, she became ineligible and began to engage with the games in a different way – as a sponsor. Cervelt’s mother wanted to experience her child’s accomplishments vicariously and would, in time, show little interest in Cervelt otherwise. They couldn’t agree on how to raise Cyril, let alone agree on his name. The split was imminent, and it happened fast. Cyril was too young to remember the divorce. His mother retained custody of him. His father got weekends up until Cyril enrolled in the academy – then one week became every other.

His memories of his childhood bounce between visits to the Capitol, his home, and his father’s small workshop in a more industrial – but cozy – part of District One, where his father would work on his golden trinkets and Cyril would twiddle his thumbs tirelessly. While he didn’t always enjoy the academy he never took an interest in watchmaking. And while his father nudged, he never pushed… or never had the time to push. Cyril never wanted to explore the thought beyond acknowledging they only saw each other every other weekend. Both of his parents were absent and his father’s absence was —seemingly— just that, but Cryil began to view his mother’s absence as its own malignant presence.

His relationship with the academy was a complicated one. His mother’s involvement in his life depended on it — his own life would eventually depend on it. She would only come around when he was doing very well in the academy or if his performance had significantly declined. One of these options seemed significantly easier as he got older and more involved with the nightlife of District 1. His mom’s mini-mansion was perfect for parties. No one was ever home, except the avoxes, and they couldn’t say anything. And truly, his mom didn’t care if she was under the assumption he was doing well. His decline had been short and rapid. He’d started partying, drinking, vaping, and showing up to the academy hungover, and sometimes still high. Combined with the extra brutality displayed in training and sparring with others, he was almost dropped from the academy. It wasn’t much later when he overdosed on something at one of these parties. He wasn’t sure what he took and he doesn’t remember what the doctor told him when he woke up. He only really remembers waking up and seeing Alecta at his side.

He took a brief hiatus in his time after the incident, staying with his father in his workshop for a few weeks. During this time, his father worked on a watch for him. His father had briefly noticed the decline a few weekends prior, but neither broached the topic; Cyril stopped him if he tried. Though Cyril’s father knew his disinterest in making watches, he hoped it did not extend to having one. He had waited to make him something until he was sure he was finished growing. Cyril remembers one night when his father called him into his workshop and beckoned him over to his chair. Though, in that process, his father had also gotten up in excitement and met him halfway. The watch was lightweight but lacked little in ornateness, titanium plated with gold accents. Cyril didn’t take it off unless he needed to.

After his hiatus, things fell back into place. He returned to the academy and back to Alecta’s side. Things had always been better there, simpler. He felt he had a purpose. Alecta was better at everything. He existed as runner-up, her right hand, as if to play to both their strengths. She didn’t need him, she was a leader, larger than life, and more serious than he was – but she wanted him. Alecta would win her games, then Cyril would win his.

Or, that was the plan, until one year, it wasn’t. They were both chosen to compete in the games together. It was meant to be some kind of callback to greater and more traditional kind of games. He didn’t take the news well at first, but he still raised his hand when the time came. At least it was him; at least he could protect her– not that she needed protecting. At least he could ensure that one of them won.

What is his district token?

His district token is a wristwatch from his father.

(+)loyal, practical, dutiful

(.)dramatic

(-)abrasive, cold, stubborn

**Penned by: Cowboy**