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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 21, 2020 16:51:38 GMT -5
Burton Acton was six years old. He had two younger sisters; Twylla, who was almost four years old, and Lea had just turned two. The two younger children were already in bed, while Burton sat in the living room with his parents. It was the year of the 79th Annual Hunger Games, the first Games Burton actually watched and a particularly brutal year, one that wouldn’t be forgotten in District 8 for years.
For it was the mayor’s son who had been chosen that year, against all odds. He hadn’t taken any tesserae, and everybody knew the mayor tried to rig the reapings to keep the boy safe. Apparently they’d gotten tired of that particular deal.
Burton had startled at the injury he watched the young mayor’s son endure, jumping and burying his head in his mother’s shoulder.
“He’s too young, Satine, I told you,” he heard his father say
“I know, Lisle,” his mother whispered “but he has to watch it for the first time eventually.”
As his mother spoke, Burton took some comfort in hearing her voice in her chest, and the beating of her heart. He loved his mother.
Satine Acton was a wonderful mother and loved her family deeply - she was gentle when it came to her children. But she was a smart woman, not easily fooled, and tough. And probably more the head of the Acton family than anyone else. Burton’s father Lisle was honest, hardworking, kind. Optimistic, cheerful, liked to joke. Burton was far more like him than he was his mother. He would pick up some of his mother’s fire, though perhaps not as much as his younger sister Twylla would.
Burton turned back to look at the television screen, before anxiously looking back at his mother.
“Mommy,” he said “why do they do this?”
His mother turned to face him more squarely on, placing one hand on his shoulder and stroking his face with the other.
“Because there are bad people in the world, sweetheart,” Satine explained softly “people who lie and try to tell everybody that they’re good when they aren’t. And if you remember nothing else that I tell you, then remember this; there is more to life than these Games. This family is more important than anything in this world. More important than anything is that you look after your sisters, and keep yourself safe, because they’re going to need their big brother.”
—————
“Burton, what did you do?”
Burton was twelve years old, and had just entered his house pulling behind him a crate filled with tesserae rations. His mother stood before him in the hallway, while his father shepherded 10 year old Twylla and 7 year old Lea into the living room as they peeked around the doorframe. Twylla seemed particularly to be fighting their father, but one stern look from Satine sent her scurrying out of sight.
“Tesserae,” Burton replied simply
“I can see that, you foolish boy!” his mother said, her voice going shrill “but why?”
“We need the food,” Burton replied “and don’t lie to me. I know you and dad have been trying to bulk out the food, going without so the girls and I can eat. I don’t care what happened but don’t pretend I’m stupid. You told me that this family was the most important thing, that I have to look after the girls.”
Satine hesitated, seeming to stutter, but then her face grew concerned.
“Burton, I also told you to keep yourself safe. Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You’ve increased your chances of being chosen at the reapings sixfold.”
“Well, I couldn’t let us starve!”
Those words made Satine come over and embrace him, putting her forehead against his and closing her eyes with a chuckle.
“I know you couldn’t.” she chuckled “you never have been that way.”
——————
It was a year later, and a thirteen year old Burton collapsed wearily on the couch of the living room. He’d just gotten back from his work shift, his parents’ shift would end some hours later. Lea and Twylla lay on the floor in front of their fire working on their schoolwork.
He’d worked a full day, and was exhausted. But his sisters were well-behaved usually, unless Twylla got a crazy idea in her head. He would be able to watch them until their parents came back.
“Are you two hungry?” Burton questioned the two girls
“Starving,” Twylla called back with a smile
Burton tiredly pulled himself to his feet, and headed into the kitchen to start food for the girls.
“I’ll cook something,” he said
“We’ll help!” Lea called, quickly supported by Twylla
Both girls followed him into the kitchen, and Burton chuckled and pulled them close. He set them on the easier jobs while he started making the main meal. There wasn’t much in the cupboards, but he did his best to not let his sisters see that. Even though they knew the family was short of money, he didn’t want them worrying about how much food they had in the house. He’d save two portions for his parents when they came home.
And he cast a glance over his shoulder at his sisters’ schoolbooks on the floor. He’d given up his schooling completely so he could work at the factories, bring in more money. Another idea his mother had argued against, but Burton didn’t have to say much to make her see sense. The tesserae wasn’t enough, not with both of the girls growing out of clothes every few months as it was. The tesserae was keeping them above the breadline, but only barely. The factory job would give them more security.
Still, he couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t been the oldest. He wouldn’t complete his schooling like Lea and Twylla. But then he supposed, what use was the schooling anyway? He’d learn more, but they’d end up with the same factory jobs anyway. Some part of him still wanted it anyway. A jealous, petty part of him.
But he remembered his mother’s words, and looked at the smiles of his younger sisters as they giggled together. And he knew he was doing the right thing
They would need him. And he intended to be there.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 22, 2020 14:46:37 GMT -5
I sat in the forested area just outside of the rebel base, my back against a tree. It was evening time, the air heavy and warm, stirred only by a faint breeze. The earliest evening stars could be seen through the sparse canopy above me. The heady forest air was thick with the scents of plants and flowers, and it was silent aside from the rustling of the leaves.
The moment of silence I had been enjoying was interrupted by a light rustling, and then Holly emerged from the treeline, taking a seat next to me.
“You know,” I began, “where I come from, when a person goes out to sit in the woods, it generally means they want to be alone.”
Holly just smirked, brushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear.
“And where I come from, if a person is being an asshole, you punch them.”
I just rolled my eyes, looking out into the forest ahead of me and idly twiddling the ring on my finger, the one Alessandro gave me.
“What do you want, Holly?” I asked
“Always assuming I want something,” Holly scoffed “y’know, I came out here to do something nice but if that’s your attitude-“
“Oh my god, what do you want?” I replied impatiently
Holly fished something out of her jeans pocket and handed it to me. It looked like a small box.
“Happy birthday,” Holly said
“How did you know?” I asked suspiciously
“Everest,” Holly replied with a shrug “now hurry up and take the present so I don’t look like an idiot.”
I hesitated for a few long moments, looking for the gift, and Holly looked at me with confusion
“What, you never seen a birthday present before?” Holly asked “Do they not do that in District 2 or something?”
“Uh,” I began “I-“
I didn’t know how to tell her I hadn’t really had a birthday as such since I was six years old.
But I took the box and opened it to reveal a gold chain, on which were a number of glass beads. There was a bead representing each of our friends, with different designs etched on them in gold. A knife to represent me, next to a bead with a sword representing Alessandro. A spear for Halina. Seeing her and Arlo’s beads made me feel a pang, realising they were gone. A lightning bolt for Ari, a tree for Amadrya, a flame for Alessandro. A heart for Burton, the silhouette of a cat for Holly. Also included were two more beads; one with the District 2 emblem on it, another with the rebel symbol on it.
“I thought you needed to be reminded that you have a family,” Holly pointed out “because you seem to forget pretty damn quickly that you have people who care about you still. I thought you could add your rings to the chain.”
Nodding, and wiping a tear from my eyes before she sees it, I pulled the two rings I wore from my fingers; the one that belonged to my mother, and the one that belonged to Arlo. And I added them to the necklace.
“Where did you get this?” I asked “it looks expensive.”
“Burton, in the Capitol. I told him and Livia what I needed and they had it made.”
I put the necklace carefully around my neck, before pulling Holly into a hug. The girl instantly stiffened
“Thank you,” I said softly
“Let it be known that I don’t feel comfortable with you hugging me,”
“Shut up and be grateful for my thanks,” I said with a chuckle
___________
It’s some time later that I find myself in the Capitol with Holly. Louden had us cornered and he was about to strike Holly when I tackled him, both of us clattering to the ground. Of course, it was stupid and it didn’t do much, because Louden got up before I did, grabbing hold of a knife that I had been carrying that had clattered across the ground.
I sat up to face him.
“Oh, I was getting to you, but you just couldn’t wait, could you?” Louden snarled “couldn’t wait until I’d dealt with Alandria first.”
Louden approached me, and I moved back on my palms and my feet.
“You know, you can try and rebel all you want, dear, but the fact is that I own you. I made you everything you are. I made you someone loyal to the Capitol. I made you a victor. I made you someone who could have been something. I made you Macaria Slayte.”
“That’s not my name!” I snap “And you’ll never own me. I’m not that scared child anymore. You made me into a monster, and now you’re just bitter that your own creation backfired on you.”
“Listen to me, kid,” Louden replied “do you think we do what we did with you to kids who have any sort of future? You would have died on the streets, or spent your life begging. Or maybe a delinquent, causing more and more trouble until one day you ended up an avox, or hanged. Hanged like your pathetic little boytoy.”
“Don’t you dare talk about him!” I yelled “Don’t even mention Arlo!”
“Oh, yes, I killed him,” Louden continued, realising he’d struck a nerve with me “I killed him and everyone you ever loved, and I made you watch it all burn. And you know what? I did make you a monster. I made you destructive, a weapon who will crave blood even if you don’t want to. You are cruel, manipulative, insatiably bloodthirsty. You will destroy every good thing in your life, and nobody will ever care about you. Oh, you had better believe, little Carena, I’ve made sure that you will never be happy as long as you live.”
He stepped closer to me again, and I moved even further back until I was against the wall.
“Luckily for you, that won’t be much longer. I’ve been meaning to deal with you for a while, actually. After all, when a Mutt is defective, you have to put it down.”
He takes another step towards me, and I just lift my chin and meet his eyes. I didn’t deserve my past, but I deserved this pain for my actions. I had to pay for everything I’d done, just to believe there was some justice in the world. I needed this pain just to feel something again, something other than the utter emptiness that had consumed me more than ever since I lost Alessandro.
I lift my hand to touch the necklace Holly gave my for my nineteenth birthday, grasping the beads in my hand.
“Make it hurt,”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 23, 2020 16:48:07 GMT -5
”Macaria, choose a goddamn dress already, would you? You said you guys would all be ready for six.”
”Die in a hole, Everest!”
The rebels were having a gala, and Everest was in his suit, pacing down the corridor where each of the rebels had their own bedroom.
Burton sat on a bench in the hallway and gave Everest a pitying look.
”Dude,” he said “as someone who has two sisters, we aren’t leaving at six. Whenever a girl says they’ll be ready for a certain time, you gotta add at least half an hour. Because there are three of them, I’d say an hour and a half.”
Everest groaned, running a hand through his hair.
”Amadrya has already commandeered my bathroom,” he complained “I haven’t been able to get in there for two hours.”
”Cry me a river, babe, yours has a mirror.” Amadrya called out
Normally the girl wasn’t big on makeup, neither was Holly, but apparently there were cameras there tonight, filming for a propaganda thing. Amadrya has been in there forever trying to get her makeup to look decent, with some tips from Macaria.
”I know,” Burton said “Lea has taken over my room to get changed. Her and Twylla had a big fight over which of them owned a particular hair ribbon and I thought it would come to blows.”
It was at that moment that Macaria came out of her room in a dark red dress, looking at the boys expectantly.
”So,” she said “is this one better?”
”I don’t know,” Everest replied exhaustedly “it looks exactly the same as the two you tried on before. Just wear that one and we can go.”
”Screw you,” Macaria replied “it’s harder for girls, we have more to do. Plus are we going to pretend Burton didn’t spend an hour choosing his pocket square?”
”Excuse me, but I take that very seriously,” Burton replied
Macaria just rolled her eyes, and then she made a beeline for Holly’s room.
”There’s nothing for it,” she said “Holly, I’m borrowing that blue dress of yours.”
”The hell you are!” Holly called out
”Too late!”
———
When the three girls were finally all collected in the corridor some time later, it was chaos. Everest had Burton in a headlock, the District 8 boy trying to break free. Ari was cheering them on, a mischievous grin on his face
”You’re going to rip those expensive suits,” Amadrya pointed out
”Or kill Burton,” Holly said with a shrug “We should place bets on which will happen first. I bet Burton dies.”
”I’d take those odds,” Macaria replied with a smirk
”Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Burton muttered amidst his struggling
Burton broke free and Everest took off down the corridor, Burton in fast pursuit.
The girls laughed, and kicking off their shoes followed the boys, the party forgotten for now.
“I’m going to beat down both of those boys,” Amadrya laughed
”Right behind you,” smirked Holly
“Let’s take them down,” Macaria grinned
They could be another half an hour late, they were having too much fun.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 25, 2020 6:04:07 GMT -5
Amadrya was nine years old, and she sat with her father in the small patch of woodland accessible from the district outside of work hours. They loved being out there together, and the pair were very rarely to be found at home. Her father was usually working, and Amadrya exploring the district and playing with her cousins. But when they weren’t doing that, they were out in the woods together.
Amadrya sat on a tree-stump, her father perching on a fallen tree nearby. It was obvious people had been coming here to get their firewood, though they weren’t supposed to do that. Her father did that, as did her uncle and fifteen-year-old Ackley.
“You know,” Amadrya’s father said “there are some things your mother would want to teach you if you were alive. She had a connection with this forest that I could never quite match.”
“Really?” Amadrya asked, a little excited that her mother had come up in conversation. Nairn almost never talked about Elowen, and the girl was always thrilled when her father gave her any little tidbit about her mother.
She’s learned most of what she knew about her mother from little moments like these. Just little snippets and hints
“Sure,” he said “it always used to sing when she was around.”
“Can you show me?” Amadrya asked eagerly “can you teach me?”
Nairn just smiled, glanced around the peaceful little clearing they were in, and nodded.
“Take off your shoes - good girl - and put your bare feet on the soil there. Then you close your eyes and you just listen. Listen to the sounds around you, and just try and feel that connection.”
The little girl obeyed, squeezing her eyes tight before her father chuckled and told her to relax. She did, closing her eyes more gently, and paid attention to her senses. She could hear the soft rustling of the trees and the distant call of a little bird somewhere in the forest. She could feel the sun warming her skin and the lightest breeze through her hair. She felt the earth under her feet, and suddenly it just all seemed to click into place. In a single moment the birdsong seemed louder, the sunlight warmer, and when she opened her eyes the colours of the forest seemed brighter, their secluded clearing filled with a gentle green light.
Nairn just smiled at his daughter, ruffling her hair gently.
“You’re more like your mother than you know, Maddie. There is an energy in you as strong, as old, and as wild as this forest. Never lose it, not for anyone or anything.”
—————
It was seven years later, and Amadrya was sixteen. It had been years since she lost her father, but she was so grateful to have been taken in by her uncle. He had done so without question, despite that fact that raising four children had to be a financial burden for him. Luckily when Amadrya has been taken in she was already ten. Plus, Ackley had been sixteen, not far from being an adult himself.
She earned her keep by now anyway, what with her job.
She was glad to have stayed with her family. The Darrows were a very well-known family in District 7, a family with authority that Maddie couldn’t explain. People just seemed to listen to them. Probably because they were honest, and hard-working. To the rest of the District 7 residents, anyway. They were well known as troublemakers for the Capitol.
Amadrya didn’t doubt for a single second that her father’s death had not been accidental. He had been getting too mouthy, too angry about the way the Capitol ran the district. She’d heard the way he had talked to her uncle. No, the Capitol had obviously decided that they had to get rid of him. Didn’t want to take the risk of hanging him publicly in case it stirred up the rest of the district, she imagined. Most of the time stuff like that would work as a deterrent, but not in District 7. And certainly not with the rest of his family alive to get curious about it and cause trouble. Clearly, killing him and making it look like an accident was a better way to go about it. Everybody would know what had really happened anyway. And they did, Amadrya was sure, it was just that nobody talked about it. But the looks everyone gave her? She knew they knew.
Some people didn’t like the Darrows and their tendency to be rebellious and cause trouble, but everybody respected them. Amadrya’s cousins and uncle had kept her away from most of their troublemaking, but she knew the kind of stuff they did. One time when a shipment bound for the Capitol had mysteriously burned before it could even leave the district, Amadrya knew who that had been. Everybody knew, but the peacekeepers couldn’t prove it.
And as Amadrya walked through the centre of the district, and people waved at her from behind the market stalls, and whispered words seemed to follow her , she felt it more than ever.
The Darrows ran District 7.
(This was just a bit of nothing, I got bored)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Apr 25, 2020 16:01:52 GMT -5
“Does anyone want to explain why all of the cereal is on the top shelf?”
Burton hid alongside Ari, both snorting as an angry Holly stood with arms crossed, glaring up at the shelf, before back at the doorway. Both boys hid under a counter, holding in chortles as the ebony haired girl pouted.
“Holly, I am not joking, it is literally noon, it isn’t breakfast.” Macaria commented, coming into the room with a dark glare on her features. Burton could spot it by lifting his head, quickly ducking and snorting again, to which Ari elbowed him.
The green-eyed menace, short in stature, glared at the taller, more deadly female, crossing her arms as she tipped her head ever so slightly, features matching that cloudy darkness of Macaria’s, before she shrugged. “I mean, I’m not going to eat the cereal, but someone out it up there so I couldn’t get to it. That’s not okay. I am not the butt of every joke in this house.”
“You willingly chose to live with us-“ Macaria started, eyes narrowed skeptically.
“Where else would I go?” Holly snapped, turning ever so slightly as she earn a telltale laugh, her eyes narrowing at the counter, before she looked back at Macaria, she didn’t comment for a moment, instead choosing to climb up the counter leading to the shelves, picking up a full box of cereal, much to Macaria’s annoyance, before looking back down, “I mean, I guess a grave would be a better choice, I could have some peace and quiet for once and my life.”
“You would be 6 feet shorter,” a masculine voice was laughing then, while another was angrily telling him to shush, holding back their own laughs.
Macaria herself fought off a smirk. Holly simply glared down, one eyebrow raised, cradling the box to herself. “I’m sorry, that’s incorrect-“
“Oh yeah, you would actually be like, 10 feet shorter, I forgot you were at least 4 feet tall-“ Holly’s eyes twitched slightly as Burton broke out into a deeper laugh, his head poking out slightly, seeing no sense in hiding.
”I AM NOT 4 FEET TALL!” Holly commented.
Amadrya happened to pass by right as Holly opened the cereal and launched it at Burton, her own eyes widening at the mess that occurred as hundreds of cereal pebbles cascaded onto the ground, some sticking in Burton’s hair.
Macaria was facepalming, a long sigh escaping her. Ari was rolling on the ground laughing.
Burton simply looked like a kicked puppy, looking up at Holly in astonishment. Holly stood on the counter still, hands on her hips and a proud smile on her face.
Burton then grinned slightly, and everyone turned to glare at him as he inhaled, a telltale sign that he was about to say something, probably rude. It was like a snap, Ari stopped rolling, dying him cautiously, Macaria lowered her hand some, deadpanned and glaring.
Amadrya just stood there, watching the scene.
“Hey look, you’re almost the size of an adult now!”
His scream as Holly lunged off the counter and at him was girlish and loud, and absolutely horrified. Amadrya watched as Ari’s scrambled away from the two teens, and as Macaria slowly sauntered towards the knives.
“What in the hell is happening?” Everest questioned, and Amadrya shook her head, watching as Burton scrambled away from Holly, before running past Amadrya and Everest, Holly hot on his tail.
“I wish I knew, but sadly, I don’t,” Amadrya commented, a long sigh escaping her as she heard yet another scream come from the direction Burton and Holly ran.
Macaria caught her attention, the past career had a long, sharp kitchen knife in hand, an annoyed gleam in her eyes.
Amadrya was immediately concerned, backing up for a moment, hands raising ever so slightly, “Okay, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to get them to stop.” Macaria commented, shrugging.
“By stabbing them?!” It was Everest this time, and Ari was back into another flurry of chuckles, he looked so proud of himself and the chaos he and Burton made.
“No,” Macaria responded, “I’m just going to poke them with it until they stop.”
“That’s called stabbing.” Amadrya pointed out, inhaling deeply in an attempt to keep her sanity.
“No, no. That’s called how to properly handle brain dead teenagers.”
”By killing them.” Amadrya sighed deeply, Macaria just shrugged and left.
“They’re dead.” Everest commented, before shrugging at Amadrya, a chorus of screams following as Amadrya distantly heard someone yell that you need to put down that knife, MACARIA PUT IT DOWN!.
“Yeah,” Amadrya commented, before holding out her arm, smiling as he looked their arms together, smile on her face, “Seems like the perfect day to go out on a date.”
”Did you get away?” Burton was yelling distantly. A loud yell answered his voice.
“IF I GOT AWAY WOULD I BE SCREAMING FOR HER TO PUT DOWN THE KNIFE?”
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Apr 25, 2020 16:31:47 GMT -5
Holly sat on top of a roof, staring at the stars above, her green eyes reflecting the lights that gleamed above. Her fingers dug into the roofing beneath her fingertips, her feet dangling off. Some may have feared for the District 8 orphan, but the heights didn’t seem to bother her.
While her pupils flickered to catch the shadow of someone sitting beside her, she continued to stare forward, though she turned her face a bit away from them, fighting off the redness that tinged her cheeks.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Burton joked, she could tell from the sound of his voice that he was smiling, one of his hands placed over hers.
She felt herself relax ever so slightly. No matter what, Burton was her friend. A friend that admitted he liked her, and a friend that she kissed after said thing happened.
And then she ran away, just like she told him not to. But also, at least she didn’t do it without making up an excuse first.
She literally made this whole comment about fools in love, as he called it, and essentially said she returned his affections, got scared, and ran. After kissing him.
“You know, that’s probably a good idea,” She joked, before glancing over at him.
He was looking at her, a bit expectantly. She simply shrugged, a nervous laugh escaping her.
“So, shouldn’t we, I don’t know, talk about-?” He began, but she deadpanned then.
“I can, and I will, jump off this roof.” She commented, angrily crossing her arms, her hand sliding away from his.
“Listen, I just want to talk about it. Okay? We’re friends before anything else. And if what I saw last night is true, both of us see a possibility for more-“
“I’ve never done friends or relationships before!” She waved her hands in an exaggerated manner, glaring back at him, “So I’m sorry for not knowing what to do!”
He rolled his eyes, elbowing her slightly, and not softly either. It was a jab.
She yelped, glaring at him, rubbing her side that he hit, glaring at him, “What was that for?”
“Nothing’s really changed. If that’s what your worried about. Nothing can change, I’ve loved you the whole time, so I don’t see the point in treating you differently.” He was shrugging then, before looking at her, “Plus, do you really think I had time to get into any relationships either. I was either working for my family or-“
“Making horrible attempts at stealing?” She teased back, kicking her feet back and forth now, obviously calmed.
“Rude.” He started, elbowing her again, much to her chagrin, “I’m better at it now anyways.”
“First of all,” Why did he have to be such a jerk Sometimes? “Would you stop doing that?” She elbowed him for good measure, “Second of all, yes, you’ve gotten significantly better. I’m still better at it, but that’s no surprise.”
He elbowed her back again, though she was too busy looking back at the sky, that she slightly lost her balance. He grabbed her arm before she could fall, nervously laughing himself, “Maybe we should stop doing that?”
Once she was righted, she elbowed him for good measure, before smirking, “That’s what I’ve been saying, you idiot.”
It became silent soon after, both teeens in comfortable silence, hands intertwined between them, and soon, with Holly’s head resting on his shoulder. Below them, once an enemy and now a friend, even a sister, happened to spot them as she visited the grave of her own dead lover.
Macaria wouldn’t shut up about it the next day.
(I honestly am just writing stuff now, I’m open to any requests.)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Apr 25, 2020 17:11:50 GMT -5
Macaria and Holly had been training together. Macaria had taught Holly how to throw knives and use the smaller weapons, while Holly taught Macaria more about parkour and stunts, things that would enable survival in the most unexpected of ways.
Fighting, dodging, together, they became stronger, more prepared.
The younger girl, the shortest among their group, swung up atop the climbing station in the new base, much faster than Macaria had. While waiting, she swung her legs over the edge, waving to Burton who was talking with Maddie and Everest below. Her friend spotted her, shaking his head in good humor, and waved back.
“So, you done flirting with lover boy or-?”
Holly forced herself not to jump, and instead glared back. She was honestly surprised that Macaria had gotten up so quickly. Her withering gaze didn’t lessen any, however. “I don’t flirt. Flirting is a disgusting way to show care and affection.”
“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t argue the loverboy part too.” Macaria commented teasingly, and Holly seriously contemplated tackling Macaria on top of the climbing station.
“He’s not my loverboy. He’s my friend who I attempt to murder half the time, and at other times, I make him look like a complete idiot in front of the entire base.” Holly corrected, crossing her arms. She didn’t face away from Macaria, who she had grown a soft spot for.
“Sure, that’s what we call risking your life for him, and also-“
“I am not in love with him!” Holly yelled slightly, she knew this conversation too well. Though she couldn’t even make eye contact with Macaria.
“I would give anything to let Alessandro know how I felt, Holly. Rejecting your feelings will only hurt you. Either he’ll move on, or he’ll-“
“He’s not going to die.” It wasn’t a suggestion, not even a possibility. The young teen glared at Macaria then, “He will not die, because if he does, I will kill him.”
She found another fear entering into her heart. She was always scared of people leaving, of being forgotten. But her new worst fears were losing those she loved in a new way. Of them being hurt, or dying.
“He can’t die,” she affirmed, and Macaria seemed to huff.
“We don’t choose when people die. Sometimes we can’t do anything at all. We don’t get to choose when we go-“ the girl from 2 fought off budding tears, remembering her lover’s limp body.
Holly seemed to sober slightly, all anger and sarcastic nature seeming to fade slightly as her eyes widened, hesitantly reaching out to counsel her friend. “Macaria...”
“No!” Macaria gentle pushed her hand away, furiously wiping at the budding tears, “No, I don’t need pity. Just..answer me a question.”
Holly nodded, her hand retreating to her lap, as she stared expectantly.
“Do you think he knew that I loved him?” She questioned her sister-like friend.
Holly’s deadpan expression is not what she expected, and the girl from 8 raised an eyebrow slightly, “Of course, you gave the boy enough clues, did you not?” Macaria’s confused glance caused Holly to role her eyes in annoyance, though she seemed to have spotted something on the ground behind Macaria, near where Burton was.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, “Um, if you’re so curious, ask him yourself?”
Macaria glared, withering gaze didn’t seem to pick up any hints, “News flash, Alandria, I’m not a freaking ghost whisperer! How exactly do you suggest I-?” It seemed that she noticed Holly’s growing true smile, gaze ecoming confused, “What are you looking at-?”
She turned around, before spotting a brunette boy, strong, lean features, and kind chocolate eyes. Said boy was scratched up, but he never seemed so amazing before.
Burton was grinning from beside him, pointing up towards Holly and Macaria. Tears were in his eyes as well.
Macaria’s “Oh,” was soft, tears finally welling and falling down her cheeks.
“Come on!” Holly’s excitable voice rose in octave, as she stood.
“I’ll look like an idiot floundering my way down!” Macaria commented, following suit, contemplating just jumping down. She felt do shellshocked and wondered if this was all some hallucination. Then her eyes widened when she spotted Holly, who was no climbing down, but instead bent slightly. “Wait-woah, no, Alandria-don’t!”
It was too late, Holly took off in a small run on the platform, before jumping, flipping slightly throw the air with a marvelous grin. There were roped dangling from the ceiling, also used for climbing and a type of swinging practice.
Holly grappled onto one, but Macaria noticed Alessandro’s laugh at the girl’s antics, and Burton’s panicked expression.
Macaria followed suit, consequences be damned. She noticed a small sting when she latched onto the rope and slid down, but it essentially went unnoticed. She flung off when she got into a close distance, jumping at Alessandro, arms spread out as she barreled into him.
The two past careers rolled, laughing, hugging, and crying.
Holly smirked, having landed before Macaria, and a bit more gracefully at that. She stood beside Burton, Amadrya, and Everest. Though she gagged when both Macaria and Alessandro happily kissed.
“Grow up, Alandria.”
“Get a room, Harlow.”
Alessandro’s confused look and question about “Who the hell is Harlow?” had everyone in the room laughing.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 26, 2020 3:02:40 GMT -5
Macaria preferred to wait until night to go and visit Alessandro’s grave. It was mainly to avoid the pity of the others, those looks they would give her. She’d spent her whole life being taught not to let people see when one was in pain, and that wasn’t something she’d been able to shake yet. She didn’t want people to see, to know how much she was hurting. Why Alessandro had been so much more to her than just a crush.
She still saw him sometimes. Sometimes it would be his smile, which he seemed to reserve only for her. Sometimes his laughter. Sometimes she just felt enveloped in that safe, trusting feeling she had whenever she was around him. A feeling she had known meant death in the Arena, as trust always did. In fact, that feeling had always scared her a little even after they were freed, after being taught for so long that trusting people was bad. But it filled her with warmth and happiness, and gradually she had felt the fear fade from it.
Sometimes, in her nightmares, she saw him hanging. Sometimes she saw it when she just even talked about him. It usually made her eyes sting with tears, tears she couldn’t let the others see. Which is why she tried to only think about him when she was alone.
As she stood by Arlo’s grave, she looked around to survey the scene around her. It was a nice night, peaceful. Just the right kind of night for Macaria to be out here. She hadn’t even really had to wrap up much to come out here, just a jacket. But then her eyes caught two shapes on the roof of the rebel building, holding hands while one rested their head on the shoulder of the other. At first she had thought it must be Amadrya and Everest, they were the only couple around here, but it couldn’t be; these two were far too short to be them. In fact, there was only one girl that short in their group. And only one person growing out blue dye; the moonlight seemed to catch a bit of blue on the male’s hair.
Holly and Burton. Finally, Macaria had been trying to get Holly to admit her feelings for a long time now.
Holly seemed to see her, to which Macaria gave a teasing wave. She was never going to let them forget this.
—————
“So, you done flirting with lover boy, or?”
Macaria was sitting next to Holly on the edge of the climbing station, watching as the raven-haired girl waved to Burton down below.
She almost laughed as Holly stiffened for a moment, startled, before turning to glare at Macaria.
“I don’t flirt. Flirting is a disgusting way to show care and affection.” the younger girl retorted
“You could have at least tried to argue the lover boy point, too,” Macaria smirked triumphantly. Holly hadn’t even said anything about that, which was interesting. But she supposed Holly couldn’t deny what Macaria had seen that night.
“He’s not my loverboy. He’s my friend who I attempt to murder half the time, and at other times, I make him look like a complete idiot in front of the entire base.” Holly insisted stubbornly, crossing her arms. Macaria felt like she was definitely protesting too much, here.
“Sure,” Macaria replies casually, shrugging “that’s what we call you risking your life for him, and-“
“I am not in love with him!”
Holly’s shouting didn’t startle Macaria, who knew Holly too well by now for that to have been a shock to her. She just sighed a little sadly, biting her lip.
“I would give anything to let Alessandro know how I felt, Holly,” Macaria replied plainly “Rejecting your feelings will only hurt you. Either he’ll move on, or he’ll-“
Macaria didn’t even want to say the word. It hurt her even thinking about it, and she swallowed. In fact, she was grateful when Holly interrupted her.
“He’s not going to die,” Holly said, glaring at Macaria “He will not die, because if he does I’ll kill him.”
“Holly-“ Macaria began
But Holly wasn’t done. “He can’t die,” she said, though something in her voice sounded less certain, more fearful.
Macaria just let out a huff in response. She’d never understand Holly. Did that girl really believe that her sheer stubbornness was enough to keep Burton alive in this war? Macaria might have thought the same thing before she’d lost Alessandro, but the death of her lover had made her realise a lot of things. About how you can’t protect people, about how you have to take chances when you see them. And a lot more painful lessons that Macaria didn’t care to think about. She’d grown up a lot since she had heard her name called back in District 2.
“We don’t choose when people die.” she replied, voice shaking “Sometimes we can’t do anything at all. We don’t get to choose when we go-“
She could see it again, in her mind’s eye. Alessandro, mouthing I love you. Then struggling, before hanging limp like a ragdoll. She’d never wipe that image from her mind, never. And she could feel her eyes burning with tears again, threatening to overflow.
“Macaria-“ Holly said concernedly, reaching out hesitantly as if to comfort her
“No!” Macaria replied, pushing Holly’s hand away and angrily rubbing the tears out of her eyes “No, I don’t need pity. Just... answer me a question.”
She had never needed or wanted pity. But she did want answers to the questions that swirled around her mind whenever she wasn’t occupied with something. Whenever there was a moment of stillness, her mind went into overdrive.
“Do you think he knew I loved him?”
Holly’s deadpan expression seemed strange in response to that question.
“Of course,” Holly responded “you gave the boy enough hints, didn’t you?”
Macaria was confused by those words and Holly’s general response. But she supposed that what she meant was that their feelings for one another had been just that obvious. It wasn’t even a question, not really.
“If you’re so curious,” Holly continued “why not ask him yourself?”
Those words made Macaria a little bit angry, to be honest. None of this was a joke to her.
“News flash, Alandria, I’m not a freaking ghost whisperer! How exactly do you suggest I-?”
But a smile seemed to be growing on Holly’s face, and Macaria couldn’t be more confused about it.
“What are you looking at?” she asked
She turned to see exactly what had caught Holly’s attention so much, and suddenly the whole world seemed to stop.
There he was, beside Burton. He looked... just the same. Just the same. But just seeing him again was enough to make the tears spill down Macaria’s cheeks and a smile grow on her face. She found herself wondering if it could be real, but it had to be. Holly has seen him too, Burton was pointing up at them. It was real.
The first person she’d dared to love, the boy she’d thought she’d lost, he was back. He was the person who changed her, made her want to be good. And he was alive.
“Oh,” she said softly
Macaria would rather not recount the whole getting-down fiasco, since it wasn’t as graceful as she would have liked it. But suffice it to say that moments later she was there with Alessandro, barrelling into him and knocking him to the ground, the both of them laughing in relief, crying in happiness, and hugging.
And then they stopped rolling, but they didn’t get up. Macaria just leaned down to kiss him. A kiss through which she wanted to tell of the time he’d missed. A kiss through which she wanted to let him know she loved him.
But then she heard Holly gagging, which was enough to make Macaria break from the kiss, and the couple both to stand up.
“Grow up, Alandria,” Macaria replies briskly
“Get a room, Harlow.”
That comment caused poor Alessandro to look rather confused, looking helplessly at Macaria.
“Who the hell is Harlow?”
Macaria just laughed softly, along with everyone else in the room, still just so filled with relief.
“It’s a long story,” she said with a shrug “but what about you, what happened?”
“That’s a long story too,” Alessandro replied with a chuckle, a hand to the back of his neck
“That’s alright,” Macaria replied “I’ve got time. I love you.”
Those words felt so good to finally say. She couldn’t have waited a second longer to say them, not after everything. She didn’t think she had ever smiled so much in her entire life, and her smile grew even more when Alessandro replied.
“I love you too.”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 26, 2020 6:47:12 GMT -5
It was evening time in the shared house the group had gotten together. It was such a nice, cosy place - somewhere they all liked. And it did them all good to be somewhere new. The old rebel base, and their old homes in their districts, those places were tainted with bad memories now. Here was different. It was a fresh start.
Macaria was sitting just outside in the garden, having some peace in the last amber rays of sun. She was so much more thoughtful now than she used to be, spent a lot of quiet time by herself. But she’d picked up new hobbies to pass the time; the garden outside was mostly down to her, and she was getting into art. She, alongside Everest, had even been working on setting up and funding a new school in District 2, to replace the Academy, which was now no more. Whether she would teach there when it was finished remained open to speculation
Amadrya and Everest were sitting in the living room together watching TV, sharing a blanket. They didn’t even seem to be paying much attention to what was on the TV. Everest’s arm was around Amadrya’s shoulder, and Amadrya was resting her head against his. Amadrya looked particularly cosy; her hair was freshly washed and was left loose, falling shiny and fluffy down to about armpit length, rather than in its usual braids. She wore a warm jumper the colour of autumn leaves, a pair of jeans and her fluffiest socks.
Amadrya, while Everest had been working on the District 2 project with Macaria, had been working with Ari (who was upstairs in his room) on their own projects to revitalise District 7. They’d helped to open up the forest to everyone in the district, not just during work hours. They’d planted new trees and flowers, and were working on rebuilding the places that had been destroyed in the war. Aside from that, she spend most of her time with Everest. The two of them were practically inseparable. They’d been tortured together, they’d fought back to back. They’d protected the rest of their friends together (they were, after all, the parents of the group). They spent a lot of time together, though they had projects to themselves to call their own.
As for Burton and Holly? They each had their own projects in District 8. Burton worked on improving the factories and their conditions, so that they were not just better to work in (and no longer employed children), but that they were cleaner and no longer spewed that awful acrid smoke across the District. Holly worked too on improving working and living conditions, and also housing in the district. People wouldn’t have to live in those terrible, cramped apartment buildings anymore.
But her biggest passion project was one that she actually shared with Macaria, and that Amadrya and Ari had helped out with a little as well. They were setting up across all the districts charities and orphanages to support the children who had been in the position that Macaria and Holly in particular had been in, on their own with nowhere to go. The war had created many new orphans, and so the former tributes wanted to help support them as much as they could.
All of the projects had a long way to do, but that was okay. They’d get there one day. For now? They were just kids trying to rebuild their lives, and to help Panem pick itself back up after the war.
Burton was in the kitchen, working on cooking the meal for that evening. The boy laughed when Holly showed up behind him, stockings spoon in the sauce to try some before Burton could push her hands away.
“Goddamit Alandria, leave some food for the rest of us,” he laughed
“I forget you can cook,” Holly replied “this is pretty good.”
“I did it all the time for my sisters,” he shrugged “and I’m an excellent chef, I’ll have you know.”
His parents tended to work later than him, and longer hours; he tended to work a shorter shift so he could get home in time to keep an eye on his sisters after they finished school. So he usually ended up cooking for them, too. Of course, in the year or so before the Games Burton has taken on longer hours since Lea and Twylla were getting old enough to look after themselves. But still
“You better be,” Holly replied simply “Macaria said she’d stab you if the food was bad.”
“Did she?” Burton asked, looking over his shoulder. He never quite knew whether that was a joke or not; casual violence was Macaria and Holly’s kind of thing
“Of course not, dumbass,” Holly replied “but for the record, there will be a murder if the food is subpar. And then we’ll eat you, to see if you taste better.”
“Get our of my kitchen,” Burton said “make yourself useful and set the table.”
“Yes, chef,” Holly said with a roll of her eyes
_________________
It was after the meal (which, Burton had to say, was very good) and Holly had volunteered to do the dishes, so Burton had walked into the kitchen casually while she was working. He’d been about to sneak up behind her and scare her, but just as he was behind her Holly spoke up.
“I see you, Burton,” she said, and Burton could hear the smile in her voice “you’re terrible at sneaking up on people.”
Burton just sighed, but then decided to jump up and sit on the counter next to the sink, looking at Holly as she washed up.
“Get off the counter,” Holly said
“No” Burton said stubbornly
“Get off the counter, Acton,” Holly repeated firmly
Burton just folded his arms and laughed before replying with “can’t make me.”
In response to this, and with a completely matter-of-fact, deadpan expression, Holly flicked some of the bubbles from the sink at me. I laughed, throwing some bubbles back at her, and within a few minutes we were running around the kitchen having a bubble-fight. It wasn’t too long before the others caught on as to what was happening, and very quickly it turned into a household battle.
By the end we were all laughing, and had bubbles in our hair, and the floor was kind of wet but none of us cared because Amadrya had been planning on mopping it that evening anyway.
Things might not be perfect since the rebellion, but we’re doing pretty well. We’re a family, and that’s what’s important
(Hi it’s a fun happy ending au)
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on Apr 27, 2020 1:45:51 GMT -5
The parade of the rebellion was held some time after Louden went missing. Another member had joined their small crew, and one member was lost, that is, for a small amount of time.
Macaria went missing when Louden did. Holly never gaze up the thoughts that she had been the reason. And no one had thought anything different either.
In return, the group gained an ally in the form of a boy named Paxton. Paxton was Louden’s son, which spelled out a whole lot of awkward anytime any of the teens conversed.
When Macaria went missing, some things did change in the group. First of all, they all lost the heart of the group. Macaria never knew what symbol of hope she had become, especially after Halina had been killed.
Everest and Amadrya grew closer, seeking solace in one another when they lost another friend, another member of their family. They had set a date, in which they would be soon wed.
Ari didn’t change much, he kept up his pose as Amadrya’s little sibling, even if they two shared nothing in blood. He saved her, too, quite a few times. He was brave, and he was strong.
Burton and his siblings strayed apart slightly when he left, especially when they decided to get involved in the conflict. However, his return brought safety to the family, who decided to settle down, especially now that everything seemed to be over.
Robin had died in the scuffle of escaping the Capitol. Macaria had went missing. Luckily, it had just been just a day since the District 2 girl returned. She had been missing, but now she was returned. She would never be the same, however, wounded, scarred, mentally and physically. She took the heaviest hits in the battle, made the largest sacrifices.
Holly could still remember the day in the Capitol. When Louden and his peacekeepers towered over her. She had cradled her bleeding face, welcoming the feeling that death would bring when Macaria intervened. Robin died shortly after, killed in crossfire, but going down like a fighter.
She remembered hearing Macaria’s voice as the girl came back just the day before. How broken, and tired she sounded. The heart monitors hooked up to the past career informed Holly and the others that the girl had a strong heart. But still, Holly came to worry for her sister.
It’s what had her hiding from the parade, huddled up somewhere, she didn’t exactly no where, with her head buried into her lap, careful to avoid the scars and the damage. She held back the fear.
Losing Alessandro and Halina and Robin had been hard. Burton leaving had been hard. But almost losing her sister, the person she considered to be a sibling?
It was harder than the damage Holly herself took on the day it all ended.
It had been months, and still, she couldn’t find how to cope with it. How to handle it all? She had no idea.
She heard the footsteps long before they came near, her head popping up in curiosity, swinging her head in the direction of the nosie she heard. She set her lips in a firm line, her eyes narrowing in a firm glare.
She winced immediately, swiftly bringing her gaze back to the ground, raising a hand to rub the sore scars.
“What are you doing here all alone, 8?” It was a masculine voice, and she grumbled in annoyance.
“I have a name, Paxton, we all do.” She commented, though he wasn’t alone, she knew.
“You never complained when I said it.” Macaria pointed out, voice scratchy, as she came to sit beside Holly, gently hugging the other female to her.
“That’s because you had the ability to stab me at any moment and hated me enough to do it.” Her sour response wasn’t uncalled for, but she commented none about the hugging, instead fighting off a smile.
She felt someone else hug her, turning her head slightly, raising an eyebrow at the boy in question.
“So did they send everyone to find me, won’t they miss you guys?” Holly questioned, resting her ear back on her knees. A smirk was on her lips, directed at him.
“They would miss all of us, little miss runaway,” Burton commented, rolling his eyes, she assumed, before he wrapped he rin a sidehug too.
“Oh yay,” came eh right sarcastic comment, even though she had a soft smile on her face, “Everyone’s hugging me except Pax. Which is good, if he gets near me I’m going to take Macaria’s knife and bitch slap him with it.”
“That’s dark,” Paxton replied, sounding slightly amused, but keeping his distance all the same.
“No, you know what’s dark?” Burton asked, and She could tell automatically that he was trying to cheer her up. Macaria seemed to take that as her cue to stand, but didn’t leave. No footsteps marked anyone leaving.
“What?” Holly replied, deadpan expression on her features as she faced her district partner.
“Well, you see how Macaria’s missing a hand?” He questioned, smirking as Macaria slapped at him, which he seemed to dodge as he pulled Holly to a shaky stand. Said girl glared in his direction, “Ask her to clap.”
Macaria laughed some, though a vague threat was heard in her voice. A small bit of guilt welled in Holly’s chest at the fact that her friend lost part of her limb, but she found herself chuckling.
“Burton,” She commented, through small chuckles, “I can’t see her, you idiot, and you know that I’m blind.”
The words felt like they should have been heavier, but she was chuckling all the while. Paxton seem baffled, but it didn’t matter too much to the three other teens.
“So, how exactly is that related to what I was talking about?” The question interrupted the teens, as Holly sobered slightly, sightless eyes following Burton.
“Well, I was talking about what was dark,” he was clarifying the joke, though he almost sounded guilty for a moment, “And you know, I’m assuming not seeing anything is pretty dark.”
The full blown laughter that escaped Holly caused the boy to gently stabilize her as the girl almost tumbled in her laughter. She wiped invisible tears from her eyes, careful of the scarred, healing tissue. The medicine of the Capitol had made it far, but not even it could repair her sight, just the skin, and appearance that her eyes had. The ugly red and bruised skin seemed to be healing rather well, but it still hurt to the touch, to even blink sometimes.
Burton chuckled too, and Holly perked slightly as she found more footsteps interrupting their teasing.
She could imagine Amadrya and Everest, holding hands as the pondered upon the group, with a silent Ari joining them. A small round of talking, and together the wondered off to the parade. A parade they honestly didn’t care about.
They just enjoyed their time together instead.
(Somewhat dark Au ending, inspired by me watching YouTube.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 28, 2020 16:22:10 GMT -5
I remember when the arena opened. Remembered Alessandro rising to his feet, the way he was silhouetted against the bright gash of sunlight above us. It was like a tear in the sky, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw it. It was like nothing I’d seen happen before. I stood up too, and felt my pulse quicken when Alessandro instinctively grabbed my hand.
“What’s happening?” he asked, but I could tell by his tone, by the way his eyebrows pulled together, that he knew
I turned to him, not caring how the bright sunlight now rushing into the Arena was exposing the dust, the dirt, the dried blood that stained both of us. My eyes were bright and wild, like they only normally were when I was on the hunt, and my hair whipped by a wind that hadn’t been there before the arena opened
“It’s our chance,” I said
“But what if it’s a trap?” the tall boy asked, looking at me with concern. He knew the look on my face when I was drawn in by the thrill of adrenaline, the hunt.
“What do we have to lose? This is a chance for us to not have to kill one another,” I smiled “so there’s no time to think.”
Still holding his hand, I started to run, as fast as I could. Thankfully while I wasn’t a sprinter like some of the others, I was excellent at endurance. I didn’t have a problem getting to the exit. Neither did Alessandro.
We gained our freedom. Whether we deserved it, that wasn’t for us to decide. Whether we deserved to be able to just fall in with the rebels and have our past forgotten, that wasn’t up to us either. All we wanted was something new. A start of something different. All we knew was if things stayed as they were, we couldn’t be together.
——————
“You can be honest with me, you know.”
I was sitting next to Alessandro on the couch in the rebel base. It was the night before we were due to fly to the Capitol to help get Amadrya, Everest and Holly out of there. We’d both been trying to hide how anxious we were about it.
But I knew he wasn’t talking about my anxieties about the mission
“Honesty is overrated.” I replied with a sigh, leaning in closer to him “You know that all of this used to be for the Games, but it isn’t now. Isn’t the fact that I’m still flirting with you after we’ve been freed proof of that?”
“And yet,” Alessandro said, leaning away from me to look me in the eye “you’re still not being truthful with me. So I want to know what it is you have to hide.”
I gave a bitter chuckle, looking away from him.
“Everything,”
“Is that so?” Alessandro asked “and why is that?”
“Because if you knew the truth, you’d pity me. And there’s nothing more useless to me than pity, Arlo, you know that,” I replied
But I wasn’t done speaking. I swallowed, shifted further away from him.
“Besides,” I continued “I know I’m a lie, but I don’t know what the truth is anymore. At least I know where I am this way. At least I have something solid, some constancy. Where do you look for the truth when your entire identity isn’t your own?”
Arlo just smiled, “Right here.”
He tilted my chin up, leaned in, and kissed me.
—————————
It’s been a while since we lost Alessandro. But the pain still doesn’t feel any less raw, and I feel an uncomfortable certainty that it never will. It’s like a hollow ache in my chest, and on the worst days it seeps into my very bones. Those are the days where I cry and I’m not even embarrassed, nor do I try to hide it from the others. On those days Holly comforts me, in her own awkward way.
Today is one of the better days. I hung out with my friends and with Pascal and Mallory, watching them play. It amazes me how resilient children are; they lost their father, and they’re devastated about it, and scared of the war. But then sometimes they play and run around as if nothing bad has happened to them at all.
They’re lucky, being so young.
Now I’m in front of the mirror in my bathroom, getting ready for bed. I lean over the sink to spit out my toothpaste, and then when I stand up again he’s behind me.
Alessandro.
I’m used to seeing him now. In my dreams, in the mirror. Sometimes just his voice in my head. The memory of him seems to have permeated into every cell of my body, so I’ll never be rid of him.
“I saw you smile today,” he says with a small smile of his own “when you were with the others.”
“I guess I did,” I reply “what’s your point?”
“My point,” he begins as he lays his hand on my shoulder “is that for a second, you felt happy. And you didn’t feel guilty about it. And that’s good. One day, this pain you’re feeling is going to have faded to maybe as much as stubbed toe, and even then you’ll only get it sometimes.”
“I don’t want the pain to go away,” I insist “I don’t want to forget you.”
“No,,” he says simply “you will move on one day, Macaria, when you’re ready. That doesn’t mean forgetting me. That means being happy despite losing me. I died so that you could have that chance, and I don’t want you to blow it.”
“I know,” I say “I’m just not ready to let you go yet. But I will, when the time comes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on Apr 29, 2020 17:03:06 GMT -5
”Does your mom always cry this much?”
Burton, who has been sitting on his bed, his bedroom door propped open, looked up as Holly sprawled across the colourful beanbag the rebels had added to Burton’s room in its decoration. She had seemingly just entered, taking the open door as an invitation. Which was fair.
“She tends to do that when she’s worried for the safety of her kids,” Burton replied with a shrug “which seems to be pretty much every day.”
Satine had cried that time Lea left the district limits. Or the day she’d run away - only for a few hours because she was mad about some stupid thing Burton couldn’t remember. She’d cried when Burton took stupid risks with tesserae. She cried with relief after every reaping day when her kids weren’t called. His sisters had told him she’d cried every day when he was in the Games.
“She seems to cry more about me than anyone else,” Burton said thoughtfully
“So surely all this rebel stuff must be giving your mother a heart attack. Why are you doing it if it’s hurting her so bad?”
Burton just sighed, unsure how to explain himself
“My family doesn’t have much,” he admitted “never did. My parents worked themselves to the bone for what we did have, and I did what any oldest sibling would and did the same. For my sisters; I want them to have things, Holly. Just because this world is how it is, because nobody hands us things, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have things. Hell, I want them too. Things can’t stay like they are if my sisters, or even if the generation after us, are going to have a decent life. I want to give them what I couldn’t have. What we couldn’t have.”
“What your sisters want is a brother,” Holly pointed out “so while I admire and support your revolutionary principles, try and stick around for them. God knows I don’t know how to cope with your mother’s crying, so if you could not make her do that it’d be good.”
—————
It turned out it wasn’t Burton who’d made his mother cry that day. Because there was Lea, standing in front of him holding a brand-new, clean uniform in her hands.
“You’ve... what?” Burton asked incredulously, eyes wide as they flicked from the uniform back to the teenage girl’s face
“Signed up as a medic for the rebels,” Lea repeated, holding the clothes against her body with an appreciative hum
“No you haven’t,” Burton replied with a chuckle and a shake of his head
“Have too!” Lea challenged, moving a hand to her hip
That was when Burton realised this was really serious. The outfit was not a joke, this wasn’t something she’d just been considering. She’d already done it.
“Lea,” Burton said breathlessly, leaning back in shock “what the hell possessed you?”
“Helping the rebels?” Lea responded “not sitting here watching everyone else making a difference? I thought you of all people would understand that.”
“Don’t compare this with my mission in the Capitol!” Burton shouted. He rarely raised his voice, especially not at his sisters
“What is your problem?” Lea yelled “I thought you’d understand!”
“I didn’t choose this!” the boy shouted, before clearing his throat and lowering his voice “I didn’t have a choice to be part of this, Lea, not if I wanted to stay alive. And here you are running into a war zone by choice! I took tesserae, I worked in that factory, all so you and Twylla could live the lives you wanted and be happy. I did everything to help give you a chance and you’re choosing to run into danger the first chance you get?”
“I’m choosing to be part of something I believe in!”
“For god’s sake, you’re fifteen! You don’t know what you believe in,” Burton scoffed
“Halina was fifteen!” Lea shot back, her eyes darkening
“And she’s dead,” Burton pointed out, stepping closer to his sister “and the thought of losing you like that scares me too much.”
Lea just sighed, stepping back and lowering to her side the hand that was holding the medic uniform
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you and mom and dad did, Burton,” she said softly “or that I don’t know the risks. But you’d be a hypocrite if you told me not to do this, not with all the risks you take for other people. I want to be part of this, to fight for something. To have some adventure, see beyond District 8 or this one building. Do you think it’s been easy for me to just stand by as you and the others fight and suffer for this? Do you think I’ve been blind to how much that factory and the Capitol made you and our family suffer in District 8? Do you think for a second I didn’t notice how the Games changed you, or that I don’t hate the Capitol and Louden for hurting you? I want to help take him down, too.”
Burton stood for a moment in silence, looking at his sister. She seemed somehow older than she had been when he was chosen for the Games. She was a little shorter than Burton, with wavy brunette hair and the same deep brown eyes. Eyes that had a new depth now, the eyes of a person who’d had to grow up too fast. Lea had expected her brother to support her, and was clearly blindsided by the way he had reacted to the news.
He just sighed, laying a hand on his sister’s shoulder for a moment before wrapping one arm around her and pulling her into a hug.
“Okay,” he said
“Okay?”
“If this is really what you want, then I support you,” Burton conceded “I need to stop treating you like a kid. But I want you to promise to stay safe no matter what? Don’t put yourself in any unnecessary danger.”
“I promise.”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 2, 2020 16:11:51 GMT -5
Amadrya had always thought that the rebellion would be the hard part. That once they got through it and they won, that it would be all smooth sailing from that point onwards. That she could finally go back to something like a normal life, even though she had always known it wouldn’t be the same as it had been before. Not with the new scars, but also the new love she had gained
But it wasn’t so at all. After the rebellion, the group had all gotten a home together. They’d only been moved in a few days when they had a visitor from a young woman Amadrya vaguely recognised - and she had wanted to walk with Amadrya and Everest specifically. A stylist from the Games who claimed to know Burton and Holly and introduced herself as Livia. Burton’s contact within the Capitol, and an ally to the rebels, if Maddie wasn’t very much mistaken. As such, she invited Livia into a conservatory area in which she had been sitting with Everest before. It was all glass walls and surrounded by trees, a place of peace and a soft green glow.
Once in there, Amadrya gestured to a free seat before taking her own seat next to Everest.
“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” Livia smiled as she sat down “so, Diana and Alistair asked me to come here, and I’ll be having my own conversations with the others in due course.”
“Right,” Amadrya replied “and what exactly is it that Diana and Alistair wanted you to talk about with us that they couldn’t just tell to us directly?”
“Well, to be frank, they wanted my expertise,” Livia explained “they know a lot about performance and the Capitol but very little about the districts. I know both.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Amadrya commented “and I’m not known for my patience.”
Everest gave Amadrya a look, a slight warning in his eyes. Sure, Amadrya was being a little cold but honestly she didn’t really care. She was fed up of Diana and Alistair and of reminder of the rebellion. She just wanted everything to be quiet again. To enjoy her life.
“It’s about the changed atmosphere in Panem in the aftermath of the rebellion.”
“A little more than a changed atmosphere, I should hope,” Everest pointed out “or else we didn’t accomplish much.”
“Right,” Livia sighed, before continuing “the fact is that all of the survivors of the rebellion are now in the public eye. You are not just celebrities, you’re also political figures. But more than that, you are symbols.”
“I’m fed up of all this ‘symbols’ shit,” Amadrya groaned “I’ve been a symbol for the Capitol, for the rebels, and I’m not going to be a symbol for Panem.”
“I’m sorry, but like as not, that isn’t something you get to decide,” Livia replied firmly “Miss Darrow, you gave up the chance to be a normal person the moment you were reaped, even more so when you left that Arena. You took on a responsibility that you can’t give back.”
Amadrya didn’t say anything to that, just huffed and leaned back in her seat. Everest put his arm around her immediately, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“The greatest responsibility lies with the two of you.” Livia began “You’re the oldest apart from Macaria. And the two of you embody, and must continue to embody, all of the values of the new Panem. Strength, determination, courage, freedom, perseverance. But most of all, the couple that you constitute is invaluable politically and symbolically. Young love, hope, a new generation. Plus, you’re from two different districts. The unity of the new Panem.”
“Right,” Everest replied “and what exactly is it you expect from us?”
“Well, you’ve got to act as if those interviews from the Games never ended,” Livia responded seriously “you’ve got to win Panem over. You’re going to have to present a united front, smile and wave and do interviews and photo shoots. Propaganda stuff. Most importantly, you’ll have to support this new government. Endorse what we tell you to endorse, stay on message-“
“-be puppets for the rest of our lives as if not a damn thing we did mattered.” Amadrya interrupted with a sneer “listen to me, Livia. I’m a fighter. I don’t do speeches or cameras or scripts. I never want anyone else telling me what to say as long as I live.”
“Miss Darrow!” Livia snapped sharply “yes, this isn’t going to be pleasant for you. But you have to see to the end all the good work you started in the rebellion. The people need this from you, and so does the new government. If Panem has any chance of staying free, of having a happy future, this period is crucial. Trust me. You’ll have to do things you don’t like, but that’s because you’re a hero, you’re a public figure, you’re powerful.”
“And therefore a threat to be controlled, I suppose?” Amadrya narrowed her eyes
A squeeze from Everest of her shoulder seemed to reassure and calm Amadrya, allowing Livia to continue talking.
“You’ll have people to guide you, to help you live as normal a life as possible in the circumstances. But the most important thing the two of you can do is focus on your relationship - the two of you are a couple and it would be a far bigger political disaster than you could imagine if your relationship became damaged. You have to be a symbol and a distraction, a fairytale romance people can be invested in. A story of two heroic young warriors. In fact, I suggest a wedding.”
“Wedding?” Everest echoed in shock
“Yes. I can’t think of a better political statement. A new chapter in Panem’s life, the unity of the districts. Not to mention the fact that the news coverage surrounding the engagement, the preparations for your wedding and the event itself would be a wonderful distraction for the people of Panem. Something to give hope in the aftermath of the war.”
Everest and Amadrya shared a look. They’d never say it in front of Livia, but they’d been considering possibly getting engaged for a little while. Not that it gave Livia the right to be telling them they should be getting married.
“I don’t-“ Everest began
But Livia was already rising to her feet
“Oh, we’ll discuss the idea further another time,” she said with a dismissing wave of her hand “for now, just look as in love as you can for the cameras”
“We are in love,” Amadrya pointed out
“Good,” Livia smiled “then it should be easy.”
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on May 3, 2020 12:39:35 GMT -5
The Interview
I feel the blood poor like rain. Out my wounds, out my mouth, out my nose, out my eyes.
I feel the sunrise, beyond the skies, reminding me that yesterday had been better. Yesterday had the light of hope. Now all that was left was the dying flame.
The sun was gone, and I was nothing.
It’s the surrounding pain that worms and strangles your heart, choking you in a haze. It’s the kind that sinks in, and makes you so hollow, you never try to escape. It’s the pain that isn’t purely physical, it’s mental, and it’s real.
It’s the pain of closing doors, and closing eyes of dead friends and mothers. It’s the wasted years spent on pity and anger. It’s the story of my life, and I have no hope of escape.
I am drowning. But not in the water. I am drowning in my mind.
In my guilt. In my anger. In my sadness. In my grief. In my years of misspent youth and days of agonizing wait.
All for this?
“It’s a dress, Olivia,” I sound so much like I had used to, but somehow it sounds worse. It doesn’t sound human anymore. It just sounds like an echo. That girl in the mirror isn’t me either. That’s a girl who died in the flames of war.
Halina and Alessandro died. And all I can do is think about myself. Pity myself.
I’m pathetic.
“I’m asking about your opinion, Holly.” She reminds me, her brunette hair falling in cascades over her shoulder. It makes me envy when my hair used to be long, trailing behind me in the summer days as I’d bask in the presence of a loving family.
I was a busy girl after that point, I didn’t have time to deal with long hair, nor did I have the motivation.
“My opinion is that it’s a dress.” I reply, and she huffs in indignation. I know it must be such a bother to deal with me when I’m like this. I can’t really blame her for seeming so put off. Even I’m distressed at the state of my own mind.
I’ve changed too much. But maybe there was never a base outline for me at all. Never having people to call my family. Never having a true home. Never having true friends. Why would I need to have a true self?
Maybe I’m just lost, and I’m trying to find who I am. A rebel. A fighter. A lover. A killer.
What did Alessandro think I was? I can’t help but wonder if he saw me in the light that the others did. If he saw me as some girl who triumphed over her demons.
“I know it’s a dress.” Came her spiteful comment, right on cue to my thoughts, “But I’m asking how you think it looks.”
“It looks like a dress,” I deadpan, and I hear her sigh. I crack a faint grin at the fact that simple comments can set off such reactions. Even feeling as void as I had. It wasn’t like I was all just guilt and anger. A lot of it was fond, teasing and sarcastic.
A lack of feeling wasn’t a lack of caring. That was a lesson I had learned one too many times.
“No, I mean-“ she begins, but I chuckle instead.
“You mean it’s a dress. I’m going to respond the same way each time. I don’t like being in a prison cell.”
“You’re not.” Comes her reply, staring at me with her blue confused eyes. She is a pretty girl, everyone I know is pretty. That’s not to say I’m not pretty. But my looks had never bothered me. My hair was a mess of curls and uneven cuts. Livia was well put together, always dressed to impress. It’s not something I envy.
It must take forever to look as good as they do. Macaria, Amadrya, Olivia. I don’t see any point in trying so hard in your looks. What gain does it make? More attention? The only attention I ever see a pretty girl get is usually unwanted attention. I don’t see why I should dress up for people who don’t care and for people who care too much.
Macaria never understood it.
“A dress is a prison cell if I don’t want to wear it.” I can see by the look in her eyes that she wants to argue, so I continue without much pause, “And I already know it’s a necessity. I just don’t want the last thing I’m seen in to be a gaudy overly poofy green dress and jewels that the real Holly would never bat an eye at. She wouldn’t agree to be some slave just to protect people. She would just live on her meaningless life, waiting for the next joke to come around and taunt it until it died.”
A disturbing thought. I don’t regret saying it. I have changed. There isn’t a real me. But the idea of me is dark. I like it that way. That idea of me was left alone, for the most part, and didn’t get caught up in the middle of moral dilemmas. That idea wasn’t forced to befriend her worst nightmare just because the mentors of the rebels said to play nice.
She’s a nice idea. Left alone. But meaningless and incomplete. As much as I hate them, emotions really do have a part to play in life. Albeit, in my case, a pretty useless part, but hey, a part is a part.
“Whatever,” Livia comments, and I”m pretty sure she doesn’t quite get it. Then again, she left the hardships behind just so she could live a nice life in the Capitol. I was sure she only sided with us rebels to suit her own goals. If she really thought we would lose, what side would she be on then?
Appearances this, appearances that. In the long run, to Livia, I’m sure it doesn’t matter what side your on, just as long as you look good and are liked.
“It’s not something we can change,” she seemed to have this smile anyways, like she missed my careless banter, there’s a sadness in her eyes. And suddenly, she stops messing with my outfit, looking off towards the door, a longing in her gaze, “I’d tell you to do whatever Louden asks. But I know you won’t, and in the long run...” she looked back at me, eyes narrowed, “Giving up isn’t the best option. You keep yourself and Burton alive, but you speak your mind. Give Louden hell.”
I gulp slightly, looking away from her gaze, “If I do, Burton and Robin die, likely you too. I can’t-“
“No.” She interrupts me, eyes narrowed in that typical Livia fashion, “Louden’s too much of a coward to really go through with it. He lives to use you guys as weapons against one another. But United, you give a better message, you’ll never escape this,” the attention, I know that’s what she means, “And if you are to die, wouldn’t you rather do it in an honest manner? Give Louden hell, just like you always wanted to.”
She does the unexpected, wrapping me in a quick hug, which I shakily reciprocate, before she backs up, smoothing out my dress. I feel then as she places something around my neck.
I hold up the small amulet, it’s plain, and emerald green like the dress. I raise a quizzical brow in her direction, but she’s already slinking off.
Before she leaves the room, I catch a wink she sends my way, and I feel myself drop the little locket in curiousity. Then I’m met lead to the room in which I’ll see him again.
I can’t really tell where the anxiety comes from, but it refuses to fade away.
—
I’m in this room, you know? A room with cameras everywhere and way too bright lights.
I narrow my eyes as I notice someone sitting in the room. Blue hair hanging delicately over his brows. A smile in place as he faces the cameras, maybe some people would be fooled, but I know him too well to believe that smile.
I take a deep breath in, my thoughts are running wild. This is likely the last thing I’ll ever do. All up in a green long sleeved dress, one that seems to fit this new me much too well, but I can’t help but hate.
“Knock him dead, Alandria.” I feel a voice whisper in my ears, and I gulp as I feel the retry ghost over my neck. My eyes narrow, a glare on my features as I turn to pushed Louden away.
He, of course, dodges, smirk in place, his words settle horribly in my stomach.
“You can’t hurt him.” I say, my voice sounding much more resolute than I sound.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, before looking into the room as well, “He’s more use to me alive, playing the part of a socialite. I found he’s the perfect way to make you fall. And if you, one of the most stubborn of rebels will fall, so will the others. I just have to pluck the write petals, until that flower is too ugly to be adored.”
I stagger back as he leans forward slightly, but I realize he’s simply placing a corsette of Black Roses on my wrist, all metal and jagged, digging into my skin uncomfortably. I look back at him, eyes narrowed.
“A present, my dear. Think of it as a parting gift.” That is so much softer, deadlier.
I hear soft heels behind me, turning to find Robin in a fiery, featherlike dress. Oddly befitting to her namesake, in that classic Capitol humor. I find myself holding out my hand slightly, sighing out in a small chuckle.
“I came alone to this party, would a certain little lady like to join me?”
I still hate her for everything she’s done. But Macaria was the same, worse, even, arguably. But Macaria, with the right conditions, was able to truly bloom. I choose to believe the same could be done for Robin.
I can’t stay mad at her, not when we will likely die, publically, soon.
She takes my hand, and together, we enter the room as Catullus begins in his accent, words filling in the room.
“Today, we have special guests!” The way he sound like he normally does is a bit shocking, not like normal Burton, but like Catullus, from what I’ve heard over the hubs when he calls, reporting information. His accent, everything.
It stings a bit, because it makes me realize that maybe, just maybe, he thinks this is my fault and lied to me.
But then he turns, arm dramatically out at his side, as any good interviewer in the Capitol would do, and he freezes.
He falters, which isn’t good. But one could write it off as shock. His eyes, Brown like the delicate rich fabrics at home fern were, widen and dance between Robin and I.
“Holly?” He mouths, careful to face away from the cameras, and I realize that in a way, this is how Louden will torture him. Louden hadn’t told him who he was interviewing, just that he had someone special for Catullus to meet.
And that was me.
He recovers so quickly, I’m almost shellshocked, his smile is back in plac, but it looks more forced than before, “We have Holly Alanadria, past tribute of District 8, and Robin Étienne, past tribute of District 12.”
I lead Robin over, sitting on the sofa with her. It’s comfortable, but worries me to a degree.
Meanwhile, Catullus-Burton-Burllus? Whatever, Burton opens an envelope, his eyes scanning over some questions he’s expected to ask, narrowing slightly.
“So, Robin, you had worked with Louden, willingly, might I add-“ he seemed genuinely curious on whatever this question was, I was too busy plotting my own words to really pay attention, “-why did you betray the Capitol?”
Ask me, I’d tell you that Louden was asking for some kind of message to come about, Robin to once more be fearful and cower. That’s not what he gets.
“Because he broke his word to me, he said, if I did what he asked, he wouldn’t bomb the rebel’s outpost, where my sister and her newborn were located. I only stick to my end in deals when both sides are kept.”
One of the cameramen is making a cut throat motion, and Burton nods, looking back at me then, and I freeze under his stare. I note in my mind that even the cameramen don’t seem to suspect Burton.
What was Louden planning?
“Is it true, Holly Alanadria, that you came to the Capitol on your own accord?”
He sounded so curious, I almost wondered if it was him asking or the paper.
“Well, you see-“ I glance at the doorway for a moment, where Louden is watching, that threatening look on his face, but I sigh, “I did. I did because it’s true. We were told, us rebels, that we were not being tracked. But we were, and that meant that-“ I sent Burton a small glance, noting the small amount of panic there in his eyes, understanding in the pools of chocolate orbs, “That someone was going to get hurt. I came in hopes of stopping that.”
He is very good at schooling his features, a grin in place, “So you were concerned about h-about them?”
That wasn’t on the script and I knew it! His little almost slip up caused me to glare daggers at him, my arms crossed, “I care about my friends. I love them all too much, and that’s why this is wrong.” Haha, Louden, get a room ready for me, because we’re back to square one! “All of us, Amadrya, Everest, Arlo, Macaria. Halina, Ari - we are all kids. Sapphire, Carlo, Astrape? Kids. Every kid that has died for 90 years and for what? To prove some point about power? Louden, and every president of Panem could stop the useless murder of children with a wave of their hand, place the interests of all people first, rather than themselves-“
The cameraman was making the cutting throat motion, but I continued onwards, “He kills his own people too. Not just kids. He’s killed his guards. He’s killed anyone who disagrees with him. Who knows when he decides to attack his own people as a ploy? Think about it. No one is safe. He’s just going to hurt people again and again. You will all be his shields, just so he won’t be hurt.” And it was obvious too.
Robin decides to interject, seeming inspired by my words, “And I’ve seen his plans. No one’s safe. In his mind, the rebels only win and get him if every capitol citizen is dead before that.”
Burton tips his head, playing up to the part he should, but it pains my heart, I know he’s trying to protect us. “Oh really?” He’s challenging us, maybe Louden. His response is perfect. It’s plotted in such a way that we can continue.
“And the best thing about it?” Robin declares, sickeningly sweet grin overcoming her face, “His son sees it. And guess whose side he’s on?”
“Wait-“ I interject, loosing all steam, because damnit I get sidetracked too easily, “Louden has a son?” I sound stupefied, before cackling like an idiot. “Please tell me he actually has a brain-“
“Oh yeah, he does.” Robin comments, sounding much too proud of herself, and my eyes narrow. She knows something we don’t.
“You were speaking of a side?” Burton continues, and I wonder why in the world Louden has let this continue. He could cut it off at any time. He seriously should have.
“Yeah, I was.” Robin comments, shrugging, “But that’s not important right now.”
“How is that not important?” I grasp my head in frustration, rolling my eyes, “If I knew Louden had a mini version of himself, well, I don’t really know what I would have done. That just sounds far fetched.”
Burton rolls his eyes, it seems he’s picked up on Robin’s wording. His eyes flutter back to me, the blue dye in his hair looks kind of stupid to me, but also fits him well. Blue has always been his color. “You said someone was here? That would get hurt? You’re concerned about them.” And I realize, I should have just let him die, the ass.
“Now isn’t the time to be teasing,” I warn, tittering a bit, and Robin’s huffing.
Of course we’re bickering. We get into that habit, back and forth. I claiming that if my friend is to die, I’m killing them myself. Only I get to kill them. And he’s placing stupid words in my mouth.
“The time seems ample, I’m sure they appreciate the gesture,” cocky little grin in place, he smirks that stupid smirk he has, “It must take a lot to get along with the likes of you.”
“I’ll have you know that I could kill them in a heartbeat.” I snap back. He knows I’m talking about him, the little asshole. “And you, glitterboy.”
“Oh yeah? That’s why you placed your life on the line to come and rescue them? What are you, Prince Charming?” He grinning full on now, arms crossed, but remaining charismatic and somehow still fitting the part of a real interviewer, who would interact, bring out the personality of the tribute before them.
“Nothing about me is charming, I thought that all belonged to you, Catullus.” I emphasize the name triumphantly. “You are the capitol’s brand new lapdog.” He glared as I say it, and I know some venom was in my voice, though I still have my own stupid smirk on my face, daring him to reply.
Robin huffs out in annoyance, “I am going to kill you both, please just stop being annoying.” She glared my direction, raising an eyebrow at me, and yeah, I really can’t blame her for questioning my mindset.
I raise my hands in defense, smirk in place still. It’s nice to actually talk to Burton again, even if I’m still mad about him leaving in the first place. I’m not one to get all sad and shit on live TV. I did have a reputation to uphold. The asshole variety, that is.
“Yeah, well I do have to admit, I am quite charming, glad to see you feel the same,” He’s being a cocky little son of a bitch. It took everything in my body not to slug him square in the jaw. How would that look for charming?
So instead, I use my usual go to response when he annoys me enough.
“I’ll push you off the roof.” I threaten, deadpanning. I’ve said those words to him way more than I should have in the arena.
“We aren’t on a roof.” He comments, smirking as he leans back, “But back on topic, I’m sure your friend appreciates the gesture. It’s sweet that you care.”
“Eww, you’re being genuine.” I fake a gag, rolling my eyes. Robin’s just facepalming, the cameraman looks a little lost. It’s chaos.
“Well, you know you love-“ He almost says me, because that’s our casual go to thing whenever one of us pisses the other off, but he amends it, “-them.”
“Yeah,” He freezes for a moment, narrowing his eyes at me as I shrug, “I do love them. A lot, actually. Why else would I do something this stupid?”
I kind of forget that this is actually Burton for a moment, or maybe I just decide to see how he would reply in the first place, shrugging as I lean forward, the bickering leaving my mind for a moment, as I sigh sadly, “Macaria was right. I am very stupid when it comes to love. A complete fool. And I just can’t take the chance of him dying if it’s not me doing it. He’s my closest friend, my best ally, and jokingly, my katana twin. I’ve done too much to keep the maniac alive and I’m not stopping now.”
I freeze for a moment, because Robin is cackling on the couch, Burton’s cheeks turn a little rosy, and then the cameraman himself is cackling. I’m not disconcerted by my words much, because I don’t really get bashful often, but I am completely lost on this reply. That was like, the one genuine thing I had said during this whole thing.
“I’m completely lost, someone explain what’s going on?” I question, glaring around the room. I wasn’t handling the whole admitting my feelings shit at the moment, so I instead focus on Robin and the cameraboy. Why was he laughing?
“Alright, get up Alanadria, we’re getting out of here.” He comments, snickering softly still.
“Wait-“ I glare at him, “Who gave you permission to tell me what to do?”
“Well, I’m your one chance at not dying, and you want to protect your little katana twin. Right?” He seems way too boastful to be serious. Now that I truly look at him, for like, longer than a passing glance, I notice he looks a lot like-
“What in the fresh hell kind of drugs did they give me this time?”
There was no way that Louden’s kid was breaking us out of the Capitol.
(And all the formatting for the italics messed up but whatever, it’s fine.) |
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 3, 2020 15:16:36 GMT -5
I’m not going to pretend I’m not scared. Everything has been moving so fast, and nobody has really told me much about what’s happening. But when Louden puts me in front of a camera, tells me I’m doing an interview and that I have special guests to talk to, my confidence grows a little. I don’t know for sure whether my identity is safe, but I feel as if Louden doesn’t suspect yet. I’d know, surely, if he did.
And besides, this is my element. Being in the Capitol? I’m ashamed in some ways to say that I’ve been a natural at fitting in there. Sure, the Capitolites disgust me with their ignorance and gluttony, but I’ve been able to win favour here with ease. I’ve always been a good actor, even if it was just convincing my family that I was okay when I wasn’t, or convincing my parents that it was Lea who’d broken the dish that time I dropped one when I was ten.
And while I sit in my seat, waiting for the interview to start, I catch a glimpse of myself in the lens of the camera in front of me. The flash of the blue hair that falls over my eyes. The smooth skin without any of the scars or moles that my own skin possessed. Every little detail Diana and Alistair came up with for hiding my identity. I don’t look like my anymore, but I look enough like me to be unsettling. Like some kind of uncanny valley. What scares me is that I am Catullus, and Catullus is me. Where does my Capitol identity end and Burton begin?
But it’s almost time to begin, so I compose myself. I’ve been careful not to slip in front of Louden, let any of Burton’s habits slip through, and of the body language that used to be mine. Little tics. I’ve even been taught to avoid the way I crinkle my nose when I smile. Over my time at the Capitol, I’ve gotten this down to an art form. I know Catullus better than I ever thought I would, even down to his mannerisms.
But they’re counting down to the start of the interview, that fake smile is on my face, and suddenly we’re live.
“Good evening, Panem!” I smile “and greetings from the Capitol.”
The accent, too, is carefully controlled. With the help of Livia, I’d practiced and gotten this down pat. Enough to pass as unsuspicious anyway, even if it takes a lot of concentration for me to get it perfect. But I have to now more than ever. If I mess this up I’ll be exposed.
“And tonight,” I continue “we have special guests!”
I gesture to the sidestage area, my eyes following my arm to see these two guests. And my heart stops.
In elaborate, bejewelled dresses. My eyes land on Robin first, in her fiery gown that matches her hair. But then they move to Holly, in a big green dress - she looks beautiful, but she couldn’t look less like Holly if she tried. Not the Holly I fell in love with. And I know she probably is thinking about how different I look, too.
At the very sight of them, my stomach drops and I feel sick. I feel my smile falter for a moment as recognition dawns in my eyes.
I’m careful to turn my head just a little more, shielding it from the camera. I cannot let them see this, I can’t let my identity be exposed.
“Holly?” I mouth
But I’m sure to regain my composure as quickly as possible, determined not to let Louden have the satisfaction, nor to put Holly and Robin in danger.
Because my mind is working a mile a minute, and I know now that Louden must know who I am, really. Well, perhaps not certain. But it seems clear to me that he must have brought them here to torture me. Watch me squirm. And to make sure I know what’s at stake; if I don’t do this right, we’re all dead. I don’t know how he knows who I am, but it’s of little consequence right now. I’m confident in my abilities to carry this off, but not confident enough to stake the lives of Robin or Holly on it.
The look in Holly’s eyes makes me realise how Louden has been using me. He plans to trap me within my own Capitol identity so that he can use me to take the rebels down.
All I know is I have to keep them alive.
I will keep them alive. I will not let him win. Messing with me is one thing, but messing with Holly is entirely another.
“We have Holly Alanadria, past tribute of District 8, and Robin Étienne, past tribute of District 12.”
As the two girls approach me, I know my smile is a little forced, but I can do nothing now. I’m not that good at controlling my emotions and facial expressions. This will be enough, anyway. The Capitol is always convinced by fakery, so this fake smile will wash right over them. So will the districts, who don’t suspect me at all. Louden will only think it means his little torture method is working. He’s testing me, seeing how far I’ll go.
I have to keep going, ask the questions Louden gave me. My eyes scan the sheet in front of me, and I resist the urge to swallow as I lift my gaze to lock eyes with Robin.
“So, Robin,” I begin “you worked with Louden - willingly, night I add. Why did you betray the Capitol?”
Of course, I’m genuinely curious about the answer to this question. Robin is a mystery to me, and I don’t know enough to even begin to understand her. I don’t know why she worked with Louden in the first place, and I’ll sure as hell never know why she switched sides. Still, I’m careful not to make it sound too much like my own genuine curiosity. I inject just enough fake ness in there for this not to seem like the urgent, frank conversation I wish it was. No, it’s showmanship. I have to inject the slightly tone of polite curiosity, as if I’m trying to sound genuinely interested when really I’m just an interviewer doing my job.
And when Robin speaks, I’m scared once again. I want to keep to the script, keep them both safe. But with the two girls sitting across from me, I realise that is not an option. Neither of them will do what Louden wants here, they’ll use it as an opportunity for rebellion. It might get us all killed, but i know it’s right.
“Because he broke his word to me, he said, if I did what he asked, he wouldn’t bomb the rebel’s outpost, where my sister and her newborn were located. I only stick to my end in deals when both sides are kept.” Robin replies
I’m proud of her. She is getting her story out there, clearing her name, supporting the rebel cause. And I will do anything to help her and Holly with this, even if their plan is to get all three of us killed. I’d rather help them with this than die as Catullus.
I notice one of the cameramen making a cutthroat motion, and in acknowledgment I give a small nod. I have to move on.
And my mind is still whirring, my face a semblance of calm as I figure out the next move in the second or two I have. I need to ask a new question, but it wouldn’t be wise to ask Robin another question right now, not after that last response. So I turn to Holly instead, giving a glance at the paper for a question to ask her. And once again, it’s a question I genuinely want answered.
I fix my gaze on Holly, then, as quickly as I can do I can change the subject. Louden will not have been happy with Robin’s words and I have to smooth it over. Have to.
“Is it true, Holly Alandria, that you came to the Capitol of your own accord?” I ask
“Well, you see...I did. I did because it’s true. We were told, us rebels, that we were not being tracked.” Holly begins
That’s when the truth hits me. How he knows my identity. So he really does know, and I walked right into his trap like a fool. Louden knows. I feel icy cold panic flow through me, and I know I won’t have been able to stop it from flashing in my eyes. All I can hope is that nobody notices, nobody except perhaps Louden. Who I have no doubt will be taking great pleasure in watching me put the pieces together, like a spider watching a fly realise it’s caught in its web.
“But we were, and that meant that- that someone was going to get hurt. I came in hopes of stopping that.” she finishes
Holly’s next words draw me back into the situation. I still have a job to do. I still have to get this interview right. Keep the others safe. But her words almost make me smile, if I wasn’t good enough at keeping them even. I’d I wasn’t well enough trained during my time in the Capitol not to give my feelings away. No, instead of a genuine smile, I keep the fake one in place. But I can’t resist asking.
“So you were concerned about h- about them?”
The sharp look from Holly is enough of a warning for me; I was an idiot. Not only was that question not on the script, which would immensely anger Louden, but I’d almost messed it up and given it away.
“I care about my friends. I love them all too much, and that’s why this is wrong.” I can see the triumph on Holly’s face, the victory she feels she’s winning here “All of us, Amadrya, Everest, Arlo, Macaria. Halina, Ari - we are all kids. Sapphire, Carlo, Astrape? Kids. Every kid that has died for 90 years and for what? To prove some point about power? Louden, and every president of Panem could stop the useless murder of children with a wave of their hand, place the interests of all people first, rather than themselves-“
The cameraman, I can see, is making the throat-cuffing motion again. But before I can do anything, make any move to try and move things on, Holly is continuing. Continuing, to my secret joy.
“He kills his own people too. Not just kids. He’s killed his guards. He’s killed anyone who disagrees with him. Who knows when he decides to attack his own people as a ploy? Think about it. No one is safe. He’s just going to hurt people again and again. You will all be his shields, just so he won’t be hurt.” she says
It’s at that moment that Robin interjects, supporting Holly.
“And I’ve seen his plans. No one’s safe. In his mind, the rebels only win and get him if every Capitol citizen is dead before that.” she comments
I have to do something to support them. I can’t let Louden use me as a weapon like this. But I have to help them in a way that subtle enough for Louden to not notice. If that’s possible, anyway.
“Oh, really?” I ask
It sounds like I’m challenging them, doing what Louden wants me to do. But really I’ve opened up the floor to them, allowing them to talk more. All the whole not associating me with what they’re saying at all. I can wash my hands if their words, keeping all of us safe, while allowing them to continue with their words.
I see that sickly sweet grin covering Robin’s face; she knows what I’ve done, just as I can tell Holly does. And she’s using this opportunity to savour her next words.
“And the best thing about it?” Robin asks “His son sees it. And guess whose side he’s on?”
Holly’s surprise is evident as she interjects
“Wait-“ she questions incredulously “Louden has a son? Please tell me he actually has a brain-“
“Oh, he does.” Robin responds
The pride in her gaze worries me. It’s obvious she knows something, and worse, her proud expression risks giving it all away.
“You were speaking of a side?” I ask
“Yeah,” Robin shrugs “but that’s not important right now.”
I barely take in Holly’s shocked words about a mini-Louden, but simply roll my eyes. We make eye-contact, though, and I instantly know we’re on the same page about Robin. Her wording. So, not wanting anyone to catch on about any of this, I change the subject as smoothly as I can.
“You said someone was here? That would get hurt? You’re concerned about them.” I say, addressing Holly
Sure, this is probably a bad time. But genuinely I don’t care at this point. I feel like myself again, not like I was just moments ago. It feels less like I have to be cold and focussed to make sure this interview goes well. No, now I want to tease Holly.
“Now isn’t the time to be teasing,” she replies, and beneath the tittering I hear the seriousness. The warning.
“The time seems ample,” I reply, letting the smirk I know infuriates her slip onto my face “I’m sure they appreciate the gesture. It must take a lot to get along with the likes of you.”
I’m still teasing her, knowing that really I can say whatever I want right now. And I want to. Holly was always better at this. I could tease her back, but she was always cooler, one step ahead of me. But this time I felt like the one in control, like she was in the back foot.
“I’ll have you know that I could kill them in a heartbeat. And you, glitterboy.” Holly snaps, clearly annoyed now
I lean back in my seat, relaxed and in my stride. Not only do I get to tease her, which makes me feel more comfortable because it reminds me of what we always do. But also, it all just seems like I’m a normal interviewer having the usual banter that they do to play off their interviewee and bring out their personality.
“Oh yeah? That’s why you placed your life on the line to come and rescue them? What are you, Prince Charming?” I reply, and I know there’s a hint of genuine grin now as I cross my arms
My feeling of victory though, was short-lived, for Holly gave her usual clever reply.
“Nothing about me is charming, I thought that all belonged to you, Catullus.” she smirks “You are the Capitol’s brand new lapdog.”
Those words are enough to make me glare at her, because the truth in them hurts. I’ve lost myself out here in the Capitol, or at least lost the certainty about who I am. Whether I’m more Catullus or more Burton. What parts of him are real.
Robin tries time get us back on track, glaring as she threatens to kill us both. Not that it seems to stop us much.
“Yeah, well I do have to admit, I am quite charming, glad to see you feel the same,” I reply, letting myself be cocky just to irritate Holly
Holly threatens me with the very same words she often used in the Arena, which makes me chuckle. She tells me she’ll push me off the roof.
“We aren’t on a roof.” I reply simply “But back on topic, I’m sure your friend appreciates the gesture. It’s sweet that you care.”
“Ew, you’re being genuine,” Holly gags, and I roll my eyes
Robin and the cameraman both seem lost, very confused. Holly and I have always had easy banter like this, as long as we’ve known one another.
“Well you know you love-“ I begin, and I almost mess up again, saying the words I always used to say to her, “them”
But I wasn’t expecting what happened next
“Yeah,” Holly admits “I do love them. A lot, actually. Why else would I do something this stupid?”
Those words cause me to freeze, unable to know how to respond or even to take in the words she just said, which are enough to make my heart stop a second time. Holly seems to have a habit of doing that to me. It’s as if the entire world pauses for a moment, because the universe demands I pay another moment’s attention to her.
But she isn’t done. She leans forward and let’s out a sad sigh.
“Macaria was right. I am very stupid when it comes to love. A complete fool. And I just can’t take the chance of him dying if it’s not me doing it. He’s my closest friend, my best ally, and jokingly, my katana twin. I’ve done too much to keep the maniac alive and I’m not stopping now.”
And suddenly, my cheeks are flushing. I want to burst, I don’t even know how to deal with the feelings that fill me. All my life I’ve cared for everyone else around me, and Holly is the first person who doesn’t depend on my like they do, but also a person who wants to care for me. More than that though, I’ve spent so long thinking she can’t possibly love me back. And she does.
I never get w chance to give any response, though. The cameraman is laughing, and Holly is asking why, and suddenly his real identity is revealed.
Paxton has joined the rebels.
You know, this is a lot of information to get in the space of about five minutes.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 3, 2020 16:38:13 GMT -5
I don’t remember.
Al I’m aware of when wakefulness finally drags me out of unconsciousness is that my mind is a fog and that everything hurts. My body feels stiff, and there are pains everywhere. My head aches, there is a particular stabbing pain in my eyes. Such a wall of pain it instantly makes me want to cry, makes my breathing come sharp and shallow.
“Get him some painkillers,”
That’s Diana’s voice, I’m pretty sure. It’s quiet, but it’s her. My ears ring a little, but I can hear.
I open my eyes.
I open.. my eyes?
I’m sure I opened my eyes
But all I see is blackness. No, I’m sure not my eyes are open, but I can’t see. My breath quickens again, I can feel ice filling my veins and the blood draining from my face. In panic, I scramble to sit up, rushing backwards until I feel my back against the wall behind the bed. I’m panting, turning my head in confusion, in some desperation to see something.
“Shhh,” a comforting voice says gently
I’d know that voice anywhere; it’s my mother’s, and her words are accompanied by her gently but reassuringly laying her hand on mine
“Mom?” I ask, my voice shaking
“I’m here, honey,” she says “so is your father. Not Lea and Twylla, though. We thought it was best if that waited for a while.”
“What’s happening?” I ask, swallowing and gripping her hand tighter “why can’t I see?”
There’s a pause as a strange sound comes from my mother. I can’t tell if it’s a pained sigh, a strangled sob. All I know is that it’s a sound of grief.
“You were on a mission,” she explains “and there was an explosion.”
“So this is temporary, then?” I ask hopefully, figuring that if I was blinded by an explosion I might have a chance of my sight returning.
That really does make my mom bite back a sob, I can tell that sound. She squeezes my hand, and It seems that she can’t reply, which is why Diana seems to choose that moment to take over.
“I’m sorry, Burton,” she says calmly “but it was shrapnel from the explosion that hit your eyes. We tried to minimise the damage as much as possible but we weren’t successful. This is permanent blindness.”
I have to take a few moments to register that this is what I will be seeing for the rest of my life. It isn’t total blackness, I seem to vaguely be able to make out some movement. I must be registering some of the light in the room. But it’s certainly not enough to be able to see anything, really. Only the faintest shadow of some things.
I feel a pricking, and have to wipe tears from my sightless eyes. One of them, anyway; I don’t think the tear duct in the other works anymore. I’m not even really sure what direction I’m facing, what I’m looking at. But I’m able to turn in the direction I assume my mother is when she squeezes my hand again.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she says tearfully “I’m so sorry. We’re going to do whatever we can to help you. But for now I thought you wouldn’t want to see your sisters yet, or your friends. I figured you might want some time to- to process all of this.”
She’s right. I don’t want Lea and Twylla seeing my like this. They will have to eventually, but I want it to be in my terms. When it’s been long enough for me to laugh and joke about it with them as if it isn’t bothering me. Like I do about the Hunger Games, pretending it wasn’t the most traumatic experience of my life. I can’t let them see their big brother, the one who’s supposed to be their protector, confused and vulnerable and in pain. How can I take care of them now? I do not want to become someone they have to protect.
And she’s right about my friends too. I would rather they not see me like this either. How can I be useful to this rebellion now? How can I be anything to my friends apart from a liability? A reminder of the risks they take every time they do a mission? No, I cannot let them see me yet.
Apart from one of them.
“Holly,” I say “I want Holly.”
She won’t give me pity. She’ll support me, make jokes with me. She won’t see me as a liability, she’ll help make damn sure I do everything despite the loss of my sight. But more than that, I need a friend right now. Someone I can trust and someone I can feel comfortable being vulnerable with. I can do that with Holly. I don’t have to be strong for her like I do for everyone else.
There’s another pause, and it’s Diana who speaks again this time.
“Holly is recovering from injuries of her own, unfortunately,” Diana explains “I’m not sure it would be a good idea for the two of you to meet, particularly since communication will be difficult.”
“What do you mean?” I ask in confusion, turning in the direction of Diana’s voice
I hear a sigh from her, and then footsteps, which I try to follow. A hand which I assume to he Diana’s touches the hand my mother isn’t holding.
“Holly has lost her hearing, Burton.”
And with those words, the final piece of my world comes crashing down.
“Take me to see her.” I say
“Burton-“ my mother warns “I really don’t think-“
“Take me!” I snap
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on May 3, 2020 17:24:32 GMT -5
I feel the pain, coursing through my head, through my wrists and legs. It’s an acute type of pain. And oddly, the sound of my heartbeat is...silent? In there situations of pain I’ve experienced before, the sound of my heartbeat was always faint, but always an echo in y had, when there was nothing else to account for.
I know I have a heartbeat. At least, I hope I do.
I’m not quite conscious though. But it’s so quiet and silent. It’s so weird, usually, you could hear the murmur of voices distantly, or the warring of wind, or the rumple of the blankets.
My eyes flutter open, the light near me hurts, and I take a glance around me. I take notice of the tubes running through various parts of my body, numerous cuts and scratches and bandages. I stagger a breath at it all.
Oddly, that’s silent too, too quiet. Much too quiet.
I feel the vibrations of my pulse, but I can’t hear it all. I guess it’s to be expected, as I was closest to the explosion, the first explosion, that was.
I sit up, feeling myself let off some kind of cry, it’s so weird not hearing it. But through the searing pain, I feel my hand grabbed comfortingly.
My gaze flies up to Amadrya. Her face is set into a sympathetic look, pained, despite her attempts to keep it gentle and passive. Everest stands behind her, with a hand placed comfortingly on her shoulder.
Then Amadrya is saying something, I think, slowly, though, like she trying to help me understand something big.
What the hell is going on? Why does Amadrya look so pitiful.
I’m up in a flurry, my thoughts focusing on Burton. Was he..was he dead? I remember when the blast hit, I was knocked down, bordering on consciousness when he got to me. Then more explosions followed, I didn’t remember. I didn’t remember it all.
I just remember that he was there, and now they looked pitiful.
I must have said, or maybe even screamed his name. Amadrya’s face is in a wince, her hands raising to her ears for a moment, while Everest tries to remain still.
But I’m already stands, not caring how much I’m messing up my own wounds. I feel rabid, that one thought in my head. He’s dead. He’s dead.
I feel someone hug me from behind, more like holding me back, forcing me to calm. I’m kicking though, I’m aware of my throat hurting, I feel like I’m talking, I can’t hear it. I’m sure I’m screaming though.
I see Everest and Amadrya talking for a moment, before looking at whoever was holding me. I feel whoever was holding me nod.
Amadrya grabs a marker off a table, before picking up a notepad quickly, messily writing as Everest’s walks over towards me.
Amadrya finally turns the board, I narrow my eyes at it. It says Burton’s not dead.
I sigh in relief, but the feeling that something is amiss won’t go away. Not with their expressions.
I’m trying horribly to speak loud enough to hear myself. Momentary deafness is supposed to pass, or you can hear loud noises. But nothing is working, and I don’t know what’s I’m saying.
I’m not aware of it, but it sounds more like a caterwaul, panicked.
Maddie looks guilty, and whoever was holding me let’s go. I register Alistair move around to stand in front of me. In my opinion, he’s nicer than Diana. But I’m confused by his expression.
I see him rise his hands, as part of training, each of us learned the alphabet of sign language. That way we can communicate with him a bit. He slowly starts using letters.
First, he points at me. Then he makes a circle using his thumb and other fingers, some sticking up, a d. Then his fingers rise, curling, into an e. His finger’s move down, just the thumb barely exposed, an a. Then it’s an f.
I blink twice. No, no, I misunderstood that surely. I shake my ear various times, falling back.
I spot Everest run to sit by me, pulling me into a hug.
But then Amadrya writes it out to. The word, and all at once the tears come. I’ve always hated the silence. I hate it, I hate it.
I’ve known too much of it, and I’ve always filled it with mindless humor. Silence let’s me think, and thinking is dangerous.
Alistair then sighs, I can tell, even mute he has a bit of attitude, it’s endearing in a manner, and I realize that he was selected to see me because he would probably teach me to communicate.
I know I’m a crying, sobbing mess, and then I feel even Maddie and Everest hugging me, tears in their own eyes.
I just want Burton. I want to be happy, and I’m happy with him.
I shakily stand, picking up the marker and writing it too, his name, that is, with a question mark. I glance back at them, only to realize that for some reason, they were selected to come see me instead of him...
Why?
Amadrya takes it back, writing out a phrase which causes my tears to pour faster.
He’s hurts too, he won’t be able to see you, not right now, not ever. He was blinded by shrapnel.
And it’s all my fault. My fault for being so stupid. And now, we won’t be able to even properly communicate.
I hated crying in public. But the sinking feeling of I thought all. All the laughs, his voice, I’ll never hear it again. I’ll never hear him talk about his sister, I’ll never hear him bicker with me, laughing and teasing me.
He’ll never see me again, and I’ll never hear him again.
And to me, that’s worse than being dead.
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on May 4, 2020 1:41:20 GMT -5
Things we lost to the flame Things we'll never see again All that we've amassed Sits before us, shattered into ash
Everything was bliss. Everything was happy, and in full swing. A team of 8 teens facing the world, side by side. Amadrya and Everest, sharing kisses under the moonlight. Macaria and Alessandro, eating dinner with a new family, holding hands and sharing the journey of change.
Halina and Ari, playing around during training, with bright twin grins, meeting other kids like Twyla and Lea.
Holly and Burton even picked up little tasks, snickering as they pranked their friends. Playing matchmaker at others.
Burton couldn’t have been happier. He got to get his family back, he got to see them everyday.
He got to see Holly’s smile, to be near his friend at all times of the day. She didn’t have to die for him to live, and he didn’t have to die for her to live. He no longer had to hear and see her in pain, as Louden would beat her and Everest and Amadrya into bloody pulps.
“You have a staring problem.” Holly interrupts his thought, grin on her face as she walks by, glancing at the forest below, both on the roof, their go to place. She’s grinning, he thinks to himself, and she’s safe.
“I do not have a staring problem, Alanadria.” He corrects, elbowing her slightly, they did this so often in the arena. “Plus, your the one intent on stalking Macaria!”
“She kept joking about you and-“ She halts, and he wonders where she was heading with the statement, though he has an inkling. Macaria was very intent on getting Burton to admit he had feeling for the petite ebony haired girl beside him.
He’s be lying to say he didn’t, but he was also a stubborn guy, and he wasn’t intent on admitting such things to her. He knew she wouldn’t feel the same, deep down. Holly was independent, and she was secretive. He knew little about her life, more than anyone else, that was for sure, but not much at all. Her mother was dead, her dad left (and was now back, Burton kind of hated Lancaster), and she had a bunch of cats.
Then again, maybe there wasn’t much more to the story at all. He still remembers seeing her in the square, calculating gaze set on him as he was punished for stealing. He knows that’s probably when he earned her trust, plus his rebellious nature.
It’s almost a sour feeling at the reminder, Holly’s going to place to rebellion over anything, no matter what. That’s always been her goal, and it would be foolish to expect anything more.
“And what?” He questions anyways, cocky grin in place as he leans somewhat closer to her, like a curious dog, begging for the answer. No matter what, Holly is easy to get along with, no matter what he says. Sure she’s a handful with her threats, but she’s fun and he can’t really help but be enraptured by her persona.
“Well, she jokes about you and I constantly being annoying and bothering her. So I wanted to show her what real bothering was like!” She comments, crossing her arms, looking smug and proud of herself. Burton wasn’t stupid though, he knew what she almost said.
He lets it go though, chuckling, rolling his eyes, “So you decided to stalk her?”
“Eh? Whatever.” She responds, not really answering my question, a darkened smile over her features, “As long as we get some kind or funny reaction, it should go down great!”
“You’re horrible, she’s going to stab us!” He’s really flabbergasted at her. Holly hated Macaria, but was so interested in making sure the past career was happy, and that Alessandro treated her right.
Burton still remember Holly cornering Alessandro, a male who was much taller than her, and threatening him to treat Macaria right, or she would personally give him hell.
Yeah right, Holly hated Macaria. Just like Holly hated him. Which was, promptly, not at all.
Though, if he had to be honest, it was quite the shock that Alessandro and Macaria only seemed to publicly display physical affection, like kisses, in private. The two flirted nonstop in public, shared hugs quite often, but kept up a good front. Everest and Maddie didn’t seem to care too much, always sharing affection, glued at the hip.
Little Ari tagged along sometimes, and sometimes Halina tagged along Diana and Alistair, having known them from before the games.
Burton was either with his family most of the time, or with his friends. Holly was almost always with him. Satine, his mom, seemed to have taken a liking to her. He hoped that was good.
And despite all the teasing looks from his little sisters, he wasn’t telling Holly how he felt. No way she would return that. She didn’t seem to like romance much, or even people for that matter.
Though she seemed pretty engrossed in Everest and Amadrya, in a friendly, almost match maker type manner. Always making sure the two were safe. He had a feeling that went more towards the fact that they were familiar with each other’s screams and cries of pain, rather than Holly actually being interested in their relationship.
It seemed more protective, making sure they were happy.
With Macaria and Alessandro, Burton suspected Holly’s interest was in mockery. Holly had quickly got along with Alessandro, they weren’t alike, but his ability to make dark humor was fun, plus, they both shared the loss of a parent(well, kind of). Alessandro didn’t know more than Burton himself did.
He found himself staring at her again. They way her green eyes seemed to glint with mischevious intent, narrowed slightly, with her nose ever so slightly scrunched up, wrinkles crinkling at her eyes as she looked for her next target. The way her smile only seemed to be really true when either he or one of the other tributes was near. Even now, her pale skin constrasted her dark hair, which fell in silky, almsost wild but fitting waves, framing her cheeks.
“Have you been listening at all?” He blinked, snapping out of his stupor for a moment, because she was talking, probably had been, and now she was looking at him, ruining the moment, her green eyes narrowed, almost in concern, before they widened slightly, a smug look crossing her face, “Oh ho ho, have you been staring at me?”
“Yeah,” he decided to admit it, shrugging, before his own teasing fit came on, arms crossed, his own features reflecting her, grin more smug than hers just to agitate her, “I’ve been wondering what the best way to hide your body would be.”
“Obviously, eating it.” The method and quickness in which she answers concerns him a bit, as he chuckles slightly, though she almost looks dead serious, “Or feed it to the starving people in 11 and 12. Give to the cause.”
They both crack into small guffaws of laughter. The rebels have supplied food into those areas as a matter of giving back. But still, of course, nothing was free of their humor.
Down below, Macaria and Alessandro were strolling now, exiting a building, as Arlo pecked a kiss to Macaria’s cheek, much to her chagrin and laughter. The girl in return lightly slapped his shoulder, but she had never looked so happy in her life.
He was almost envious of it. They returned one another’s affections, they had a love he could never have. Holly was amazing, and he wouldn’t change her for the world, but he doubt that even if she did return the feelings, she would ever allow herself to act on them. No matter how much she trusted Burton, she never opened herself up. Everyone was held at a distance, her walls stil high, just so she wouldn’t be hurt again.
He hated Lancaster. He didn’t understand what drove him to just leave and forget his daughter. To replace her...
Still, he wanted Holly to find happiness, even if it wasn’t with him, or with love. If it was just by herself, surrounded by cats, then so be it. He just wanted to be in her life, be her friend.
Still, the feeling of envy weighed heavily on his heart. So did the anxiety.
“Are you nervous?” He was suddenly talking to her again, glancing to the side to take in her expressions.
She shrugged, probably debating how to respond sarcastically, but she seemed to understand that he was being serious, “I’d never get nervous. It’s not my thing.” She props a grin his way, though her just rolls his eyes in reply, so she decides to really answer, “Yeah, of course I am. I’m scared to go back, after-“
She stops, looking away, the memories must be terrifying. She was shot, and he was terrified, he couldn’t imagine the pain she must have been in.
He knew the scars were there, just like his on his back.
Distance be shot, he wrapped her in a hug, chuckling when she huffed out in annoyance. No matter how annoyed she acted, she still hugged back.
“I’m becoming soft,” She snorts out, “I don’t do hugs, and yet here I am. You fiend, what are you planning? To lure me into false security?” She seems to be teasing herself there, how she used to be. She’s grown, and he has too. She’s opened up a bit, made friends. But still, she was closed off.
“You don’t feel soft to me,” and she didn’t, she was a bony, skinny thing, jagged and not at all what anyone’s would call soft, mentally or physically. Plenty of jagged edges and thorns, “And yeah, here you are, about to die by hugging. Poor Holly Alanadria, killed before a mission by her best friend.”
“Best friend?” He rolls his eyes, already expecting the comment, “Giving yourself a lot of credit there, Acton, that position belongs to Catastrophe. But don’t worry, she doesn’t have to know I have a second one.”
“Yes, I forgot I had to compete for your affections with a cat.” A sassy little cat too, Cat, as he nicknamed her(ironically) was an absolute brat sometimes. Knocking things down on purpose, she was like a meaner version of Holly if Holly was a cat.
Cat had taken a liking to Burton too, and it was quite hilarious when Holly first spotted the cat loving up on Burton, taunting Holly all the while.
Burton decided that he was totally going to help Holly adopt and rescue animals back in the districts when this was over, because he was sure she’d love doing something like that.
“Oh yuck!” Holly said that overly loud now, her gaze back on Alessandro and Macaria, teasing smile on her face, “Looks like their kissing. Good job Burton, we busted the mystery!”
He glared in her direction. She likely just got them tickets to hell, because Macaria was glaring up now, taking her finger up, and making a dragging motion across her throat. Alessandro just glared at him.
“Run?” He commented, looking back at her as she cackled, though Macaria and Alessandro broke into a run below them.
“Yeah!” She commented, pulling herself to a careful stand and grabbing his hand, a motion that surprised him. Though he was pulled up, so he couldn’t really ponder it, as she attempted to start dragging him, “We have to run, like, fast. I don’t want to be her human sculpture, again.”
“What about me?” He huffed, following after his District partner, as they started and planned their escape.
“Yeah, we have to protect your pretty little face too,” it’s more of an insult and mockery, like she’s talking to a child, but he’ll take what he can get.
—
“This was a bad idea,” Burton doesn’t quite think he’s heard Holly sound this terrified.
Actually correction, he doesn’t think he’s heard her sound so annoyed at something that wasn’t him. She’s panicked, yeah, but her terror came in moments like back at the Capitol, when she was Louden’s prisoner, like Everest and Amadrya.
He squeezes her shoulder, in a reaffirming manner, sorry in his own gaze, “He’ll be fine,” he assures, trying to clam her as she nervously glanced around the corner once more.
“It shouldn’t have taken this long. We have no idea what Louden will do, he knows we’re here though.” She’s right about that, and he too is worried.
He can’t really do much, she runs wraps him in a quick hug, a shocker, really, as she never really initiates hugs. Then she’s gone, around the corner, a small laugh escaping her as she salutes him, she tries to mask her worry.
He stops a moment, but that’s when he hears it, this explosion, a bit further off. He hears Holly gasp in worry, before he hears her start running faster. He turns the corner, watch as she ran towards the explosion, nearby it is Alessandro, knocked down by the blast. Luckily, he was undamaged, pulling himself to a stand, though he’s obviously shocked and panicked.
Holly yelled out to him, and Burton could catch the words, barely though, “Alessandro, go back the same way you came, it would have set off another bomb if there was one nearby.” She yells. The boy is far off, almost a speck, but he nods, running back towards the burning explosion.
She seemed relieved, though there’s another blast, a bit closer to her, that has her shaken up a bit. She locks eyes with him, looking petrified as she stands. He knows the feeling, what if one f their friends were there?
“Macaria? Amadrya?” Her voice starts off, he can hear it, off ahead, as she ran to get to Alessandro earlier, and he can hear it in the communicator.
“We’re here,” Amadrya comments, “Minor burns, does anyone know what’s going on?” She sounds just as panicked as Burton feels.
“Obviously it’s a bombing,” Holly puts in helpfully, though she winces as another bomb distantly sounds.
“He’s horrible at aim,” Macaria comments, voice finally piping up. It draws a small chuckle from Burton. “Or at timing.”
“You could say that again-“ Holly starts, though Burton silences her voice in his head, noticing a strange object near her, it looks similar to a timer.
His eyes widen in dawning horror, “Holly, run!” He screams, watching as her head rises. But he knows, even if he can’t see the numbers, that the clock doesn’t matter. Louden had her where he wants her.
She seems to react quickly, already turning to run, but the explosion behind her sends shrapnel flying everywhere. Most of the large chunks miss her, and Burton is shocked he misses some of them too. There’s tiny fragments that seem to have hit he, but her body sailed in the air, too close to the blast. He’s sure there’s internal damage too.
He doesn’t really ponder it too much, reacting more on instinct as he runs to where she lands, not caring for the fire, or the burns, or the pain that it brings. He scoops he up, effortlessly, despite his own skinniness, and takes off, running as fast as he can. She’s bleeding, too much, and he can’t help the tears in his eyes.
She was breathing, but she was unconscious, almost anyways. Her eyes were barely open at this point, not focused.
“Burton-“ She mouths the names, but no sound comes out, as she slips into unconscious, head lolling to the side.
Through the fire, he sees another explosion, not super close, but not far enough away, he protectively curls his body around hers, though he loses his footing. He doesn’t really remember when the shrapnel hits, all he remembers is a blinding pain, and then darkness.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 5, 2020 15:41:34 GMT -5
Macaria was hit the moment she woke up by a blinding pain in the head, as if it were splitting down its very centre. She let out a groan, her voice hoarse from disuse. That was when she noticed the child, a chill that went down to her very bones, a gnawing cold. It was clear she hadn’t moved in some time. She was aware that she was sitting, her chin touching her chest.
Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head, her long brunette hair falling in curtains around her face. It quickly became clear to her that her her wrists were trapped, metal cuffs from the table encircling them. She couldn’t move her ankles either.
The room she was in was well-lit, but the light was very artificial, clinical. It was pretty bare too, just a table in front of her and a chair on the other side, in which sat Louden who watched with interest this whole scene, seeming to revel in watching Macaria go from confusion and pain to realisation.
“Hello again, my dear,” Louden smiled “I have to say I really wasn’t expecting you to visit again; this is your second time, after all.”
Macaria, her movements still slow and sluggish and confused, her whole body still painful and stuff and cold, set her eyes on Louden. She let out a small huffing sound, before her mouth turned up into a slight smirk.
“Well, you’re just such pleasant company,” Macaria replied “I really thought I ought to pay another visit after all the fun we had before.”
Louden didn’t respond to that, just leaned back in his chair and seemed to examine Macaria. His movements were sure, leisurely. He clearly felt like he was the one in control. And if she were honest, Macaria wasn’t inclined to agree with her.
“So what’s the plan?” Macaria asked “torture me for while, use me for some of your propaganda, kill me? Whatever your plan is, I can guarantee that I’ll do everything I can to make this as unsatisfying as possible for you. Whatever you want from me, you’re not going to get it. Because I will never stop hating you, never stop fighting.”
“Oh, you’re getting ahead of yourself, Miss Slayte,” Louden chuckled “we’ll have you executed, but in the meantime we’re going to have some more fun. I promise you that by the time your execution arrives you’ll be too weak to walk up the steps to the scaffold.”
“I hope that wasn’t an attempt to frighten me,” Macaria replied “because in all honesty it was pathetic. Embarrassing, really.”
“It’s a shame,” Louden continued, ignoring her “it’s sad when you have to destroy something you created. You had so much potential, so much strength. I was so close to making you into something. The ultimate soldier for the Capitol, the postergirl for the government. And you had to throw it all away, didn’t you?”
“Yes, well you might have thought about your grand plan for my life before you decided to murder Alessandro.” Macaria replied sharply
“Ah,” Louden tutted “yes, your boyfriend. It was a shame, really, a waste. But you should know that when I kill, I do so with purpose. Not for bloodlust, not on a whim. He was the thing standing between you and the person I needed you to be, and he had to go. But the poison he put in you was deeper than I anticipated, and all the hard work from when you were six years old was undone. No matter; you will join him soon enough. You’ll hang just like him, I’ll make sure of that. But before I do I will strip you of anything the districts could use to make you a martyr.
“They won’t recognise you by the time you die, Carena Harlow.”
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on May 5, 2020 20:10:30 GMT -5
(Here’s a little Skye thing, I didn’t want to necro post so...)
At 12, Skye Lynn naturally had slightly slanted bright blue eyes, her hair was dark, falling in simple curly cascades around her head, braided back slightly. She was an image of beauty, always dressed in a modest uniform, neat and orderly.
She was a picture of pristine beauty. A blind follower, to an extent. Her parents worked at high rank for the OASIS. As did her aunt. They worked hard to get to their positions. Diplomatic, smart, working on the engines of the OASIS, or working with the people.
Skye Lynn had been expected to follow in those footsteps, to be pristine, to be orderly, and while unhappy, she did so. It made her mother and father proud to see her being at the top of her class, an intelligent, perfect little prototype of a citizen. Pretty, smart, and always listening.
“Hey Sly!” Her father greeted, as she returned home with her book bag slung over her shoulders, he wore a grin as he rubbed at her hair when she entered the manor, she roughly pushed him away, much to his humor. Her mother rolled her eyes, however, at her child.
“Her name is Skye Lynn, not Sly.” Her mother corrected, hands folded in her lap, eyes narrowed and dark, makeup caked over her features.
“I like going by Skye more, mom.” She corrected, rolling her eyes as the two parents bickered. Father always insisted on naming her Skye, after the tales of the blue sky back on Earth, and after the sea of stars that littered their own horizons. Her mother insisted on Lynn, which she though was more befitting to a true lady and future leader, moreso that an unruly name like Skye.
They met halfway, because both were too stubborn to find a middle ground, and apparently adding Lynn into the name made it sound more feminine and proper. For Skye, it made her cringe anytime her mother would do any meetings at the school and address her by it. Skye liked simply going by her first real name, not that Lynn was bad, she didn’t mind it when people called her Lynn or Skye. But together? She hated it.
“You’re too young to know what you like.” Her mother corrected with a sharp glare, and Skye quickly clamped her mouth to a close, fighting back the urge to retort.
“Oh yeah, Skye Lynn,” her father began, almost like the conversation had reminded him of something important, he was packing up a suitcase, though his hand travelled to something beside it, something the little girl couldn’t see, as his face set into a hardened look, though he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone, he paused, picking it up and leaving to answer. Within moments, he returned, an icy glare over his features, on that didn’t settle well with Skye. “I just received a call from the school,” he started, his glare moving on towards her.
A call? That could never be good, even her mother seemed to freeze while cleaning the dishes. Though she didn’t really know what it could possibly be about.
“What did they say?” Her mother quickly snapped. Her mother was so impatient, and her father liked to take pauses for flare. It never ended up too good most of the time.
“They said she’s doing extremely well with her grades, excelling in most of her classes,” his hand raised, pinching his nose as he sighed, “But she constantly bickers with the other children, even the teachers!” His voice was rising in octave, “Always questioning them! Do you know how bad that makes me look? When my daughter goes off questioning her superiors?”
Her mother tittered softly, “Us, my dear, it makes us look bad. Like we haven’t taught her respect. What has she been questioning them about?”
His eyes remained narrowed, and Skye backed up slightly. She knew they would never hurt her, but she still hated disappointment. She hated who she became just to please them, but it wasn’t her fault that her teachers never explained anything! The other kids constantly teased her either about her name, or were wrong about something in class, it wasn’t her fault that they were stupid!
“About the way things are ran here. Why things are the way they are. Why this? Why that? And then the whole entire fascination with making stupid useless things-“ he lets go of the bridge of his nose, glaring back at his daughter, “She’s always toying around with something! Her social skills are atrocious!”
“Well yes, that’s true, I found some more of her little toys in her room. I wish she would show more interest in building important things, like little rockets. Remember those little projects those little friends of yours did-?”
“Levi, Micah, and Joshua aren’t my friends,” her arms crossed, a haughty huff escaping her, “And everyone does engineering on the ships! What about cool things-like-like making communication hubs! Or grappling hooks! And like, other cool stuff!” Her eyes lit up in excitement as she stood up, “Or even starmaps and trackers and weapons and-“
“Enough!” Her mother was up now, which was never good. Her hands went to her hips, “Why are any of those things important Skye Lynn? Exploration? Tracking? Lynn, my dear, you will remain on this OASIS until the day you die! What matters is doing what you can to protect the people here-“
“Then what about joining the exploration crews? I could-“
“You’re not wasting your time with this anymore!” Her father intervened, crossing his own arms, “Why can’t you be more like your cousin, Terenzio,” Skye’s whole world froze, comparison. Always a comparison. “He’s so smart! He just got accepted into the engineering force! And not just as a classic newbie! He’ll be taking on leadership positions here soon, and you could be just like him, once you start opening your eyes and listening!”
“But I don’t want to be like everyone else on the OASIS, I want to discover new things, and improve the life we live. I don’t want to just work in a lab or ship all my life!” Her tiny hands clenched at her sides, eyes welling up. She then sighed deeply, “And I found out some stuff! New ways to harness energy! New ways to feed people! New ways to-“
“People have already done many things, if you think any of your ideas would work, then show proof of it, and if not? Than I can’t believe you.” He continued on without much more of a thought, “What’s important is status and people who do useless reject work don’t get any recognition. If you ever want to be somebody, you need to learn to listen.”
“But I don’t want to be somebody! I just want to be myself and do what I want to do!”
“You don’t know what you want yet, and either way, it’s our job to choose what’s best for you, Skye Lynn.” Her mother explained.
It clicked, something, in her heart, on that day. They had been busier than before. And they would become busier.
She backed up, feeling the tears start to fall, always compared to someone else. She was just want to be successful so they looked better. She weakly wiped away the angry tears glowering at them, “No, you’re trying to do what’s best for yourself.”
She turned tail and ran away, seeking comfort in her room. Though she learned, as she arrived, that all of her projects had been trashed. That little robot she had built? Destroyed. The star map she had been working on? Gone.
A kit rested on her lab table, one for a prototype ship, and a long, hard sob escaped her lips.
—
At 15, Skye decided to try out of an exploration team. She learned to fight, though it reminded her of how she used to horseplay at home, with her dad, before her mom out an end to it. She remembered when her family used to be home. But now they were too busy, most nights it was lonely coming home from school.
It want no she had time to train. Train in whatever she pleased. She picked up weapons, especially after a close call with one of the other kids. Someone who had been intent on either robbing her house, or something else. She didn’t dare ponder down that path of thought too much. The important thing way, that she lost them, but still, it was important to her, to learn to protect herself and others, escpially if she did make them team.
She couldn’t ever become an inventor, creating smaller, but more helpful gadgets, using chemistry to create shocking reactions that could save lives, or using the magnetic force and metal to enable lockpicks and galactic compasses. Or even weapons.
Essentially, she couldn’t do anything she wanted, not without a strong hold on what she did. Teachers at school refused to let her do what she pleased under her parents request, and so she sometimes took up helping out Josh or Micah with their projects. She never chose to befriend them, but it seemed to happen naturally.
Her eyes always burned with stubbornness, she seemed to argue with her teachers more, despite having skipped a grade, and often almost got into fights with others. She picked up weapons, learned to be stronger, more evasive.
She did her tests, did everything that work as required.
And yet, as she walked out of the school once her classes ended, she quickly rushed to the listing. Despite being young, it was mostly for the main training school for the team. She read through it, searching for her stupid name amongst the ranks.
Her blood froze under her skin when she didn’t, reading once more, twice more. No, she was a promising candidate! It had to be a mistake.
That when she felt someone place a hand on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to trip them, and stab them. But she was tempted.
“Hey shortstock!” The taller boy commented, snickering slightly, “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but you have to be at least this tall-“ he held his hand up, just a few inches above her head, “to be a real scout.”
She knew him, and his name was on the list, she knew she should have beat him. She knew it.
“Get Lost,” She commented, glowering at the taller man, raising an unimpressed eyebrow in turn, “And where did you get that their was a height restriction? I would have been told if there were one before I began training.”
“New mandate from the heads,” he shrugged, seeming to ignore most of her threatening demeanor. “You’re that Skyline Chimere girl right?”
“Skye Chimere,” she corrected, rolling her eyes, “Skyline isn’t a name, moron.”
He held his hands up, cackling softly, “Yeah, your mom and pops were a big push in the movement. Maybe they didn’t want their little girl going places girls don’t belong.”
It wasn’t her fault that the kid ended up with a broken nose(from a punch from her), broken hand(that was from attempting to punch her, and her dodging), and a bruised ego. Though she found out that her parents did enable the height cut, she knew it was on purpose. Just another way of controlling her life, even if they weren’t ever in it.
She decided that day, she was going to cut her hair off, and dye it. Blue, for the skies she never saw, for the color of her eyes. Blue, the color of distant galaxies.
Blue, the color of the day that she decided to start rebelling.
—
“What happened to Levi?” She roared, charging into her father’s office. He was never home, not really. So she just tracked him down.
It was, then again, during school hours, and she was skipping. She was a little mystery hunter though. Never stopped questioning, never stopped suspecting.
He froze, taking off his glasses slowly and resting his paperwork on his desk, before glaring up. “Skye Lynn Chimere! What is the meaning of this?”
“Don’t give me that bullshit!” She charged a bit closer, glaring at him, “Answer my question!”
“Okay, I get denial is a stage of grief, but this is unacceptable!” He snapped, standing up, as if it was meant to intimidate her, she didn’t back down though. She never grew out of her shorter size, but she kept up her training. Even if she couldn’t do anything with it, it was just one way to rebel against her stupid parents. She would never stop until she found out the truth.
“No, what’s unacceptable is you hiding stuff from me!” Hacking, building, fighting, so many talents, not all mastered, that she picked up. Never quite strong enough to brawl, always reliant on speed, and never quite patient. Always brash, but still surprisingly calm. Rebellious.
“I am not hiding anything from you!”
She rose an eyebrow in disbelief, rolling her eyes, “Oh really? Does Hydra ring a bell?”
He huffed, glaring to the side, “Okay, other than projects. But can you blame me? You’re not mature enough to know about this kind of stuff!”
“I’m not mature enough?” Oh boy, she was mad now, “You won’t tell me what happened to my friend, and decided instead to just say he was dead!”
“He is dead! No amount of denial will do you any good!” He snapped back, leaning over his desk as he glowered at her, “Just let it go! Just open your eyes already! I’ve had enough of you making your mother or I look bad!”
“Is that all I am to you?” She responded, keeping out as much emotion as possible, which wasn’t hard, she had already knew, she just had proof, “Part of your reputation and power? And you’re scared, because I know who you really are. Because I know you’re a liar! You’re scared because if I do what I want to do, I’d find out the truth about you!”
“Skye this is absurd! All of this over some dead boy? There are hundreds of people on the OASIS, we can’t just give up everything for a dead boy!”
“What if it was be instead?” She questioned, and his silence was deafening, “I won’t beleve you, not until you show me proof.” Bringing up his own ideals seemed to do the trick.
“If It were you instead,” the venom in his voice caused her to stagger slightly, “Then maybe someone more useful would still be here. A more useful child, who had his head out of the clouds and where it belongs would be here instead of you.”
That was the very last straw. She refused to cry in front of him, doing a little curtsy then, smile jagged and forced, “Fine then, Superior, I think there is nothing left to say.”
His silence and glare were answer enough.
Skye Chimere hadn’t had a family in many, many years. She just hadn’t known it.
(Beware of typos.)
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 6, 2020 17:24:36 GMT -5
Burton sat next to Holly again, on the roof of the rebel building. It was fast becoming their favourite hangout spot; it was quiet and away from the others. The air was cool, crisp, refreshing, nothing like the fog of District 8. They could even see the stars, which they’d not really been able to do before. Too much pollution from the factories back home, choking anything natural.
“Amadrya taught me some constellations,” Burton said to Holly as his eyes took in the night sky above them
“Is that so?” she replied, leaning back into her wrists “alright, then, glitterboy. Dazzle me with some pretty sky pictures.”
“Alright,” Burton said mischievously, before gesturing to some clusters of stars above them “there’s you, see, because you’re being an asshole. And there’s Catasrophe next to you being a brat.”
“Excuse me but I think you’ll find Catastrophe is perfect and shall be treated as such,” Holly warned, nudging him “so did Amadrya actually teach you any constellations or are you just using this to annoy me?”
Burton looked at her sideways, laughing before he replied “the two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
But he did take it seriously then, gesturing to a constellation above them, drawing it out with his fingers.
“That one’s Orion. The Greeks said that he was a great hunter - he even accompanied Artemis on a hunt. One day he bragged that he could kill every living creature on earth, and threatened to do so. Gaia, the goddess and personification of the earth, didn’t take too kindly to that, so she sent the scorpion to kill him. Or that’s one version of the story, anyway.”
“Do you believe in all that stuff?” Holly asked with curiosity, looking over at him with eyes bright with starlight, “gods or religion or being immortalised in the heavens?”
Burton thought for a moment, before just shrugging, “Well, I don’t think Orion is anything more than just a picture in the sky that someone drew one day. But it doesn’t have to be real for us to appreciate it. To answer your question, though, no. I don’t believe in any divine power.”
“And why’s that?” Holly asked
“Just never did,” Burton said softly, staring at the stars “grew up with nothing, watching the Hunger Games. I realised when I was twelve years old that I was going to have to make sacrifices for my family, that nobody else but me was going to help look after us. No, I never found it possible to believe in any higher power, at least not that cares about us. I have faith, though. In people, the beauty of the world. That someone saw those stars and drew pictures in them because they had a story to tell. We can help Panem with this rebellion, not any higher power.”
“Huh” Holly replied quietly, her voice lingering in the still air “that’s kind of beautiful, in its own way. People are still assholes most of the time, though.”
“Maybe,” Burton said with a chuckle “and what about you, then? Do you believe in anything?”
“Not a caring divine power or anything,” she replied lightly “if that’s what you mean. But I believe in something. Call it karma, fate, call it whatever you want. But there’s order to the universe, amongst what sometimes seems like chaos. Because if there isn’t, then what’s the point? If we can’t believe that good people get what they deserve, and that bad people do too, then why bother? I don’t trust people like you do. So without some force beyond our control, we’re just stuck in a world of chaos with unpredictable and cruel people, with no balance and no justice. I can’t believe in a universe like that.”
Burton grew silent for a moment, before making an appreciative humming noise.
“I like that too,” he admitted “and who cares what the real answer is, if one exists. All we can do is keep fighting and hope it makes a difference.”
“Hey,” Holly chuckled “maybe one day someone will trace some stars and put our pictures in the sky.”
“Maybe,” Burton agreed “you’ll be annoying me forever in that case.”
Holly just laughed at those words, but leaned closer to Burton as a sudden chill seemed to pick up in the night air
“Whatever, you know you love me,” she smirked
And Burton looked at her, rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle, and gave a genuine smile.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I do.”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 10, 2020 6:46:21 GMT -5
It was a peaceful, summery day; not to mention one of those rare days where none of the group had any rebel assignments. Not even any propaganda photographs or any speeches. Electing to take advantage of this opportunity, and the beautiful weather, the group had decided to have a picnic outside the rebel base.
Macaria, surprising everyone, had put a lot of it together. She hadn’t cooked (that wasn’t one of Macaria’s better skills, if she were honest), but she had organised the rest of the event. She’d gotten everyone together, packed a picnic basket with food and a blanket, and with some help from a rather reluctant Holly - who happened to have a better eye for colours and fabrics than Macaria, given that she’d grown up in District 8 - had even decorated the little area where they would be picnicking with some colourful lanterns in the trees. She had wanted to make a day of it, she’d said, like a little festival.
It was actually Alistair and Diana who had procured most of the food. Some members of the group, like Burton, were capable cooks, but when it came to food the Capitol was quite unbeatable. Still, every member of the group had contributed their own recipes for food from their home districts to go alongside the typical Capitol affair of stews with wild rice and vegetables, and soft white rolls and pastries.
Everyone contributed the recipes for their district’s bread, and since each of the districts with living tributes had two surviving tributes, they got to contribute a second recipe too.
District 2’s food was about as one would expect. Everest contributed the bread recipe; it was not made of tesserae grain, but it wasn’t the Capitol’s soft white rolls either. It was made of dense grain, filled with nuts and raisins and coated on the bottom with cornmeal; clearly a hearty bread that filled out soldiers’ rations. Macaria contributed a recipe for some small honey cakes, with the District 2 seal on top. It was a recipe her mother always made and that she hadn’t eaten since she had been taken in by the Academy.
District 7 was for Ari and Amadrya’s contributions. Amadrya contributed the District 7 bread; it was made of wheat bread, but two different kinds so that it was marbled like the rings of a tree. The outside was decorated with common woodland herbs. According to Amadrya it was the staple of the district’s lumber workers. Ari contributed a recipe for mushroom rolls, the tops decorated with the district’s seal. This was more of an expensive delicacy, but it seemed to be something Ari’s sister knew how to make, with the right mushrooms gathered from the woods.
Then District 8; Burton and Holly. Holly gave the recipe for the district’s bread; flat, cracker-like breads with the district’s seal on the top. They seemed to be made with low-quality, tesserae-like grain but somehow came out with a warm amber-orange colour and smelling of spices. The recipe Burton gave was for an elderberry tart; apparently they were used for making dyes in District 8 but they were also, among other natural spices used for dyeing, incorporated into everyday food recipes by the residents of the district
Even Mallory and Pascal were able to have their district’s foods at the picnic. The small square, bite-sized rolls that District 3 was known for, alongside small crackers with different colourful dips. Still, the District 3 bread did not seem as good quality as even the District 2 bread, never mind the Capitol fare.
There were also bread loaves from the districts of the rebel tributes who had been lost. From Halina’s district were the green District 4 loaves made of seaweed and in the shape of fish. From Alessandro’s came the nicest bread that wasn’t from the Capitol; star-shaped rolls made of white bread, egg-washed so they shone and even topped with a little of what seemed to be edible glitter.
So the group sat on the blanket Macaria had lain out over the grass, partially in the shade of a tree, thoroughly enjoying the feast in front of them. Their families had been invited too, those members of the group that had them, so Burton’s sisters could be seen spending time with Ari’s sister and Amadrya’s cousins.
Burton had never seen so much food in his entire life. Well, aside from the time he spend in the Capitol, where they ate so much they had to make themselves sick to enjoy another course. That had disgusted him, knowing how people starved in the districts. The boy felt a little less bad about feasting like this now, since the rebels had been working tirelessly to secure the districts with good food supplies.
He sat beside Holly, biting into District 1’s surprisingly sweet bread as he watched Mallory and Pascal playing. The girl was awfully protective of her little brother, who only seemed to want to play with either his sister or Holly.
“Tell me again why we didn’t grow up in District 1?” Burton mumbled as he appreciated the amazing food “Or the Capitol for that matter?”
Holly just let out a small chuckle, but Burton could see she was distracted. She was watching the two children play, or more particularly Pascal. Burton looked at her with a knowing smile.
“You’ve got a soft spot for him, haven’t you?” he asked “Holly ‘doesn’t like kids’ Alandria.”
Those words were enough to make Holly turn to him, her eyes flashing.
“Do not!” she retorted “I still don’t like kids. It’s just since I’ve already saved this particular child’s life I like to keep an eye on him. Make sure I don’t have to do it again.”
“In other words, you care about him,” Burton grinned “Holly, it looks like you might have a heart after all.”
That earned him a gentle elbow to the ribs, making Burton laugh as he leaned away from his friend.
“Shut up, Acton,” Holly replied, but he could see her holding back a laugh
“You know you love me,” Burton returned, as was the habit of the two teenagers when they teased one another like this.
It was at that moment that Pascal tottered over, approaching Holly and pulling on her sleeve.
“Hawwy?” the three-year-old was saying, clearly wanting Holly to go and play with him.
“Go on,” Burton joked to Holly with a teasing smile “sounds serious,”
Holly rolled her eyes at Burton’s teasing, but got up to go and join Pascal and Mallory in their game.
Burton took that opportunity to survey the scene around him. Everest and Amadrya were all loved-up, sitting close to one another and talking. They looked at one another like nobody else was even there, as if it were only them in the whole world. Macaria was in the process of getting pulled away from her own meal by Mallory, who obviously wanted to bring her own friend into the game since Pascal had recruited Holly. Ari was running around with Burton’s sisters, the group occasionally joining in with Pascal and Mallory’s games themselves.
It was an absolutely perfect day.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 10, 2020 11:57:54 GMT -5
INTRO TO CAMP HALF-BLOOD PERCY JACKSON AU
My name is Burton Acton. I’m seventeen years old, which is pretty good going for someone like me.
Ah, I should probably explain. My mother was Satine Acton, a high school English teacher. And my father?
Turns out he’s Apollo, Greek god of the sun, prophecy, music, archery, healing, and generally being a chaotic deadbeat dad. Honestly, I’m not complaining; what I lack in a father figure I gained in awesome demigod powers.
My powers aren’t untypical of an Apollo child, though of course the abilities that Apollo passes down can vary from child to child. For example, while I have a particular accuracy with a bow and arrow, and some measure of musical ability (though not as much as most of my half-siblings), I have only in the most limited way the powers of precognition many of my other siblings are blessed with. My healing abilities are rather average for an Apollo child. What I do have, however, is much more interesting; the extremely rare ability of photokinesis. I am still learning how to use it, and my powers are very limited; so far I can make shields of light and blast balls of it at enemies. I’m hoping to look into the applications in terms of invisibility or illusion, if my powers will stretch that far, which I doubt. Only three people, one of which being Apollo himself, has been known to possess it completely.
Anyway, it became apparent when I was quite young that I wasn’t safe, as happens with most demigods. Monsters seem to consider us particularly appetising prey. So I went to Camp Half-Blood, where I’ve resided for about the last five years, going on quests and adding beads to the necklace we’re all given on our arrival. I even made my way up to head counsellor of our Cabin, #7.
Talking of Cabin 7, it’s early morning in Camp Halfblood as I stir in my bunkbed. As camp counsellor, I get the top bunk in the set of bunk beds closest to the door - there’s no way I’m about to let one of my half-siblings get the best bed.
I rub my eyes as I yawn and sit up in the simple bed. My eyes, coincidentally enough, are not blue like my father’s, but there is still something of him in them. They are dark brown but go a golden honey colour in the light, and in sunlight seem to glow gold, as if reflecting the very light of the sun itself. The dark hair I run my hands through might be brunette unlike my father’s blonde locks, but it has the same wave to it and golden tint in the sun. In terms of my colouring I’m far more like my mother, but my facial structure is nothing like hers and so I suppose that must be from my father.
I take in the cabin around me as I try to muster up the energy to finally climb out of bed. It’s a relatively simple building on the inside; the walls are white plaster, and relatively bare aside from hooks beside the bunks for our possessions. Cedar beams rib the ceiling, which always seem to catch out any of our taller campers who happen to be on the top bunks. A cot lies in the middle of the room for the injured, though mercifully it is currently unoccupied, and there is a bookshelf with medical books, books about music and poetry, and books about our father himself. The only real splash of colour is the flower pots on the windowsill with the yellow flowers from Delos, the ones that only grow in and around the cabin. The whole place smells of sage and clean linen.
I finally muster the energy to climb down from the bunk, careful not to wake the camper sleeping below me. It’s my half-brother Carlo, a very powerful son of Apollo; he has a great gift for the music, poetry and healing side of our father’s abilities, being one of the best healers in the cabin. More importantly, though, we’re still trying to determine whether he has the power of prophecy. I believe he does, but Chiron doesn’t seem to agree. We have a friendly bet going.
Once I’m down, Carlo still sleeping soundly, I grab my things and leave the cabin. It’s always good to head out early when one is in Apollo’s cabin, because when the sun hits it the ordinary-looking cabin appears to be made of solid gold and gleams so brightly it hurts one’s eyes.
Luckily, it’s still early when I leave the cabin, enough for there to be a morning chill in the air. I take a moment to have a stroll around the Camp, taking note of the other head counsellors out before the day starts, as well as other prominent campers.
There’s Holly Alandria sitting around Hestia’s fire pit in the middle of the cabins. She is the head counsellor for Cabin 20, Hecate’s cabin, on account of the fact that she’s the oldest and most powerful of Hecate’s demigod children currently (not that there are many; Cabin 20 is sparsely occupied). Her magical abilities are second to none, and she possesses the rare ability of umbrakinesis - the opposite of my power. Like all of Hecate’s children, she can also control the Mist. Holly has always intrigued me in a strange way, the kind of way that I know is dangerous, because her powers are darkness and mine are light, nothing good could come of it. But she has her mother’s mysterious nature and quiet power, the daughter of a Tartarus-dwelling Titan rather than an Olympian god. But her hair is black as night, yet seems to have an almost silvery quality in darkness. Her green eyes seem to glow like strange stars at nighttime.
Holly looks up and catches my eye, to which I give an awkward wave and move on. I’m not really the best at talking to Holly, especially since she’s not known to be the most sociable.
First I head towards the sword-fighting Arena, where I can already hear the sounds of weapons clashing. On my approach I can see two figures fighting with swords; one male, one female.
The female is Amadrya Darrow, eighteen years old and head counsellor for Cabin 5. Lots of people assume she’s a daughter of Athena because she seems to have a natural ability for battle and strategy, but she is in fact a daughter of Ares. She likes to say that she’s the only daughter of Ares with half a brain, since most of her half-siblings seem to prefer brute force. She’s tough, and excellent with most weapons. She has a hard steel behind her grey eyes. Like her father, she is tall and well-built, hitting 6’ tall. Also like her father, her features are attractive but sharp, perhaps a little harsh. While her hair isn’t the same black as her father, she is still a brunette. While she has a brain for strategy perhaps more than most of her half-siblings, Amadrya still inherited her father’s temper. She’s well-known as someone in the camp one doesn’t want to cross. Her weapon of choice is a battle-axe.
However, she may have met her match with the male she is fighting, objectively one of the most powerful demigods in the camp. Alessandro Rune, eighteen years old. He’s currently the only occupant (and thus the head counsellor) of Cabin 1. A son of Zeus. He possesses aerokinesis and electrokinesis, as does every child of Zeus. He’s strong, brave, a good leader, though some of the faults of his father seem to have been passed down to him in a certain pride. He looks very like his father, with his dark hair and striking blue eyes. He carries himself with the kind of arrogance that is reminiscent of Zeus, but he’s powerful; it’s difficult to argue that his arrogance isn’t at least a little justified. That being said, like all of us his powers are limited and he is still learning how to use them. Still, I don’t intend to get on the wrong side of Alessandro any time soon.
Practising nearby is another formidable demigod; Mallory Libelle. She’s sixteen and has been on so many quests she’s well on her way to becoming head counsellor of her cabin, Cabin 6. This daughter of Athena is a natural with most weapons and happens to be an exceptional strategic fighter; she possesses the intelligence of her mother. Unlike many of her half-siblings, she is not blonde and grey-eyed, instead with dark hair and blue-green eyes. Physically she must resemble her father more than her mother. She is excellent at crafting, very good at weaving and forging. She also has exceptional speed, strength and agility, more so than most demigods that aren’t children of the Big Three or Ares. She’s inventive and intelligent and very strong, certainly not to be messed with.
I decide not to interrupt the demigods and circle back past the cabins, this time heading towards the lake. I’ll head to the archery range to practice with my bow and arrow later.
On my way to the lake I pass the forge, which despite being early is already glowing. As I pass I observe the young camper working there.
I know Pascal, he’s a well-liked member of the camp. A relatively new addition, aged thirteen, which means he’s pretty much everyone’s little brother. He, like all of Hephaestus’ children, is a possessor of technokinesis. He is intelligent, inventive, and loves to create and build things. He’s already getting the hang of making rather unique personalised weapons for other campers. Some people swear that when he got angry once they saw a fiery glow in his eyes, and there’s a rumour that he might possess pyrokinesis, an ability Hephaestus only blesses his children with once every few hundred years. So far it is just that, a rumour. And besides, if he did have that power it wouldn’t be good. Before one learns to control it, pyrokinesis has a tendency to be rather destructive. I doubt Pascal has that power, and if it does it probably won’t reveal itself until his first quest anyway. Pascal is dark-haired and blue-eyed, looking little like his father, but he in personality has some similarities with Hephaestus. He is intelligent, and introverted, far preferring machines to people.
I give Pascal a friendly wave, which he returns, before continuing on my way to the lake.
Once I get there, there is nobody at the shore apart from one other person. A female figure staring out across the water. A girl whom I can instantly identify.
Macaria Slayte is eighteen and the head counsellor for Cabin 11. Lots of people assume she’s a daughter of Aphrodite due to her beauty and manipulative nature, but she is in fact a daughter of Hermes. Her abilities are largely typical of a demigod child of Hermes; she has enhanced speed (most children of Hermes are very swift) and audiokinesis, being very manipulative and persuasive; she’s quite the trickster. Macaria also possesses clauditiskinesis, having particular skills with locks. However, a rarer ability among children of Hermes that Macaria possesses is teleportation; she is able to travel so quickly that she can run on air and become a blur. Macaria is very beautiful, with some of the elfin features her father is known for. She’s brunette with tan skin and green eyes with a brown ring around the pupil. She’s perhaps rather easy to overlook, but you shouldn’t. She’s fast and has a skill with throwing knives that is entirely independent of any godly powers from her father. Not to mention her manipulative nature and keen intelligence.
After my wander around the camp, though, I can see by the height of the sun it’s been some time since I left the cabin. It’s time for breakfast, so I don’t even have time to sit and relax by the lake.
It’s time for another day in Camp Half-Blood.
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 12, 2020 15:09:13 GMT -5
It was about a month after the end of the 90th Hunger Games.
Burton has already completed his tour of the districts, which was painful. He’d never forget seeing the families of the other tributes. Probably none more than Everest’s, the only tribute whom Burton has actually killed. The faces of his parents, former victors, were like thunder when they looked at Burton. Pure anger, and grief, and pain. The destructive force of nature behind their eyes, like they could conjure a hurricane at a moment’s notice. He had seen repeats of their Games, seen what they were capable of. They seemed like a predator paused to pounce on their prey. That moment of tension before the strike.
And the parents of the younger tributes. Astrape’s parents. Carlo’s family. Ari’s sister. None of that was easy. Robin’s sister holding a newborn baby. Seeing them reminded Burton he had no business being alive. He was no better than them, why did he deserve to have survived when they were gone?
After the tour he had arrived at the Capitol for his final grand reception at the President’s home. Louden has at that point taken Burton aside and offered him a proposition; living in the Capitol. He could keep his family out of the public eye by remaining separate from them, and Louden could give him opportunities to make something of himself. To actually be someone. He wouldn’t have to live the rest of his life as the boy who won the Games. And with his new fortune, he’s never have to walk into a factory ever again. Neither would his sisters.
So after his final return home to District 8 and the customary celebrations, Burton had helped his sisters and his parents settle in to their new home on Victor’s Row before getting back on the train and heading towards his new life in the Capitol. A life where his scars would be gone, where he could actually be someone.
But as he sat on his seat on the train, watching the world whiz past him just like it had on that first train trip to the Capitol all those months ago before the Games, Burton caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
He turned to look, and there she was. Sitting in the seat opposite him, looking more beautiful than ever. Dark hair shining and glossy, skin clear and scar-free, not dirty like it had been in the Arena. Her green eyes were bright and shiny, glimmering like emeralds. But like emeralds, there as a hardness behind them. She was angry. And she smiled a slow and dangerous smile.
“So you found a place where the grass is greener,” she said, her voice cold and vicious, a mocking tone behind it “and you jumped the fence to the other side.”
As she spoke her eyes drifted out the window, where indeed the grass was greener. Not that it was hard to find grass greener than that in District 8. There was barely any grass in District 8 at all. But Burton hated that she was right; at the first whiff of something better, he’d left. Unable to reply, he watched as Holly’s eyes slowly returned to meet his.
“Is it good?” she asked with mock concern, nodding as if she was talking to a child “Are they giving you a world I could never provide?”
Those words are what broke Burton’s heart, the words which finally stirred him to try and say something, anything at all
“Holly-“ he began, in an attempt to explain
But as soon as he spoke she narrowed her eyes, leaning back in her chair
“Well I hope you’re proud of your big decision,” she sneered “yeah, I hope it’s all that you want and more.”
“I don’t-“ Burton tried again, desperately searching for words
“Now you’re free,” Holly continued coldly “from the agonising life you were living before.”
With those words she waved her hand, and suddenly around Burton she has conjured images. A young Burton running, laughing as he’s pursued by his younger sisters. Burton embracing his parents . Then Burton and Holly sitting like they did on the roof of their base in the Arena, whispering and laughing like they always did. Burton looking at Holly like he always did, in that way that made it utterly obvious to everyone except him or Holly how much he loved her.
By the time the last image had faded, Holly was gone.
______________
It was several months later, and Burton was now officially living in the Capitol and been asked by Louden to be the host for the next Games. He had seen Holly almost daily since he had left for the Capitol, but she hadn’t said anything. Only looked at him accusingly, appeared behind him in the mirror. But this was worse.
He was in the middle of his interviews for the first Games, spouting some spiel about how good the Capitol was when Holly suddenly showed up. Standing behind the chair of the girl he was interviewing, a young scrappy thing from District 6.
“And you say what you need to say, so that you get to walk away,” she accused, stepping round from behind the chair
Burton tried to ignore her, focusing on the words of the girl he was talking to, trying to focus on the interview. He couldn’t afford to let anything go wrong, and he wanted with every fibre of his being not to listen to Holly’s words. Clearly angry at being ignored, Holly approached him, leaning to whisper in his ear.
“It would kill you to have to stay trapped when you’ve got something new,” she said, looking with disgust at his blue hair and makeup
It was of course harder to ignore now, but Burton set his jaw and tried to keep focused on the girl, nodding along and trying to pretend his leg wasn’t jogging up and down as anxiety filled him. Why couldn’t she leave him alone? Why couldn’t she let him move on? It was so much easier to forget who he was and be someone new. To leave Burton Acton and his ideals behind.
But now Holly was looking at the necklace he wore around his neck, mostly tucked under his shirt. The dream catcher necklace his sister had given him before the Games. Then the scar on his cheek from the Games. It was one of only two scars that remained on Burton’s body; it was mostly covered with makeup. The only other scar that remained was the one down his back from his whipping when he was sixteen..
“Well I’m sorry you had it rough,” she said softly, before her voice hardened and became accusing once again “and I’m sorry I’m not enough.”
She stepped back to stand in front of him again, blocking his view of the District 6 girl as she gestured around the scene around them, the artificially lit TV set for the interview. The gaudy and glittering dresses, the sickening Capitolness of it all.
“Thank god they rescued you!” she shouted, desperate for one last time to break his focus before sighing an irritating sigh as Burton just swallowed and tried to look through her.
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It was that very same evening, and Burton was finally back home for an hour or two. He didn’t have much time to sleep before he had to return for move coverage of the Games. He had to be there for hours before the Games started, getting people prepared for the worst time of the year for the districts. He had never done this before, and and he was terrified. Terrified of what it would do to him.
And Holly had never left him for the rest of the evening after those interviews.
“So you got what you always wanted,” she was saying “so you got your dream come true. Good for you.”
From behind him she moved to stand in front of him, the air going chilly as her face seemed to change, blood covering her skin, flowing like tears from her eyes. She looked almost like she had when she was killed. Apart from the blood-tears, which was both new and very unsettling.
“Got a tase of a life so perfect,” she spat “so you did what you had to do. Good for you.”
Burton cracked then, bursting into exhausted, scared, guilty tears. He was done. He couldn’t fight his own conscience anymore. Not that he’d ever been able to argue with Holly.
“All I need is some time to think,” he begged “but the boat is about to sink.”
He couldn’t help but recall the contract he’d signed only a few months ago with Louden. Selling his soul, destroying his old identity and promising to Louden that Burton would cooperate. Be a good loyal Capitolite and present the games for him.
“Can’t erase what I wrote in ink,” he choked, before looking desperately at Holly “tell me how can I change the story?”
Holly didn’t respond to that. To his earnest question about what to do. She just looked at him with that same deadpan, soul-searching look. Which was far more painful for Burton. He was used to her anger when she was alive, her fire and passion. Her lack of emotion was worse.
“All the words that I can't take back,” he said, his voice like a whisper now “like a train coming off the track, as the rails and the bolts all crack. I've got to find a way to-“
But as he spoke she was just approaching him again, disappointment, pain in her eyes. Burton couldn’t take it anymore, the greats flowing again as he shook.
“Stop it, stop it! Just let me out!” he yelled
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 14, 2020 15:01:53 GMT -5
”I might have known that was your cat.”
Macaria leaned against the doorway of Holly’s room, choosing not to cross the threshold yet. It was Holly’s first night out of the medical wing after their return from the Capitol. It was really only thanks to Burton that they’d gotten out. Macaria had been physically unhurt, unlike Holly, though she didn’t know how long that might have lasted had Burton not come. She’d never tell him how thankful she was for that.
Macaria’s words caught Holly’s attention. The girl looked up from where she had been sitting on her bed, Catastrophe curled up next to her. Her green eyes flashed as she glared at Macaria with a look that let the District 2 girl know that she very much was not welcome.
“She doesn’t like me,” Macaria explained despite Holly’s angry looks, meeting eyes with Catastrophe, who seemed to bristle just at the sight of the brunette.
“Good,” Holly snorted “she has taste,”
Macaria took Holly’s acknowledgement of hers as an invitation to enter the room, though the way Holly raised her eyebrow told her she shouldn’t have done that. The smaller girl’s every muscle seemed to tighten, as if preparing to spring towards Macaria at any moment. Macaria knew all too well the look in her eyes; adrenaline, anger and determination. Hatred mingling with fear. A look Macaria had once and herself, and also a look she had been taught to thrive on.
“Look, Eight,” Macaria sighed “I’m not asking you to like me, that’s too much to expect of anyone. But we should at least tolerate one another.”
Holly frowned then, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward a little.
“No, I don’t think we do,” Holly replied “I know I certainly have no reason to tolerate you, and no desire to forgive you either.”
It was Macaria’s turn to raise her eyebrow then, tossing her hair slightly.
“I didn’t ask for forgiveness,” Macaria said “I don’t do that, because I’m not weak. But I think you’d do well to remember, Holly, the risk I took to try and get you lot out of the Capitol.”
“I do,” Holly replied “I’m not stupid. But funnily enough I also remember you carving patterns into me in the Arena, and I’m sure it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that it’s a lot harder to get that out of my head.”
“I know,” Macaria mumbled
“What?” Holly snapped
“I know.”
“You know?” Holly snarled “What the hell do you know, Slayte? About anything?”
“Forgetting pain,” Macaria explained “and how hard it is. Especially if you don’t have anyone.”
Macaria knew her choice of words wasn’t lost on Holly there. She would have questions, if they ever got to the point where they could talk about those kind of things with one another. For now she felt too vulnerable, though talking to Holly was probably the best course of action for her. She wouldn’t get any of the sympathy or pity she hated from her.
“I do have people,” Holly responded indignantly “I have Burton.”
“You don’t trouble Burton with that kind of thing,” Macaria waved off Holly’s words “he has his sisters to take care of and his own problems to deal with.”
The flash across Holly’s eyes told Macaria she was right.
“And I’m suppose to confide in you now, am I?” Holly scoffed “Like we’re little girls at a sleepover? Is that what you’re saying.”
“What I’m saying,” Macaria replied as she stepped closer to Holly “is that we might not like one another, but maybe we can help one another.”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 16, 2020 17:57:22 GMT -5
The rebellion was finally over, at last. In recognition of the service of the surviving tributes of the 90th Hunger Games, they had been gifted a house by the new government. A beautiful gothic-style building with enough space for all seven teenagers and a spare room for any visiting family.
It had been a short journey through the forests bordering Districts 7 and 8, far enough away from the latter district to not be affected by its rather terrible air quality. Overall, a win. The building, despite being large, still didn’t manage to look unnecessarily imposing. It seemed even kind of cosy and yet ethereal, with a huge stained glass window on one side.
Macaria was all ready for move-in day; she was wearing a loose and comfortable shirt half-tucked into high waisted jeans, and her hair was tied back with a bandanna. She was armed with all of her possessions, not that she had many. Her room in the academy hadn’t exactly allowed her much space for stuff, and she’d had no scope for decoration. With this in mind, she was very excited to finally get to decorate a space of her own. There was even a garden; Macaria hadn’t had a chance to do gardening, but she felt like she’d enjoy it. She’d liked flowers as a little girl.
She entered the house alongside the others, her and Ari at the head of the group. Upon entering the building, both her eyes and Ari’s instantly travelled to the staircase and the second floor. They were both thinking the same thing.
“Dibs on the biggest bedroom!” they shouted in unison
Macaria looked at Ari, and the two of them made eye contact before turning back to look at the stairs. There was a moment of silence before Ari suddenly made the first move, darting towards the stairs with Macaria in hot pursuit. It was close but it was clear by Macaria’s response that Ari had gotten there first.
“You little asshole!” she groaned, but even she seemed to concede that Ari had won that room fair and square.
Then it was Burton who ran past Macaria, dashing towards the room at the end of the hallway
“I call the only room with an en-suite!” he was heard yelling as he speeded past
“Damn it, Burton,” Macaria shouted as she followed, pounding on the door as Burton closed it “I want an en-suite.”
“Too bad,” Burton laughed “I’m not sharing a bathroom with you dirty heathens.”
“That boy got way too used to the Capitol life,” Holly suddenly spoke up
She has followed up the stairs, with Amadrya and Everest following behind, too focussed on one another to really care about what the others were doing
“Excuse me for having standards,” Burton’s muffled voice came through the door
Holly just rolled her eyes and made for the room at the end of the hallway, opening the door and stepping inside. A few seconds later she poked her head round the door.
“Yeah I want this room.”
“Sure it’s got nothing to do with being across the hall from Burton”? Macaria teased
Those words earned a glare from Holly, who put her hands on her hips.
“Actually, it’s because it has a stained glass window and a little nook for a cat area for Catastrophe. It’s delightful and I want it, and you’re not going to be a bitch about it.”
Amadrya and Everest made for two rooms further down the hallway, saying something about wanting to be next door to one another. Which Macaria was by no means surprised by, the two of them had been closer than ever since the end of the rebellion. Apparently not being in mortal danger was good for relationships, who knew?
It turned out Amadrya’s room has a balcony, which made Macaria a little envious. She would’ve loved a balcony. Everest’s has its own cozy fireplace, something Macaria would also have enjoyed. Though it was debatable whether letting Macaria have fire would be a good thing so it was probably for the best.
So Macaria claimed the free room opposite Ari, leaving the other free to be a guest room. It was a nicely laid out little room, a big bed, lots of windows, a vanity, dressers. It even had a little writing desk in front of the windows so she could enjoy the views of the forest around the them while writing...whatever she wanted to write. She wasn’t much of a writer but she supposed someone had to record the events of the 90th Hunger Games and the rebellion that had followed. Someone had to remember Alessandro and Halina. And now that killing wasn’t something she could really do now, she’d need a new hobby.
For now though, her eyes turned to the wall that had been left entirely bare. She already knew what she was going to do with that .
Knife display.
She was just setting her stuff down when she heard excited shouting from across the hall.
“My room has a loft!” Ari was yelling
“You got a what?” Macaria responded, running to stand in her doorway
This was not fair
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 17, 2020 15:37:09 GMT -5
Macaria sat in the Arena late one night, feeding the fire as the glowing embers started to lose their warmth. There weren’t many trees in the arena, but they always had flammable material. It hadn’t taken the careers long to get a pretty decent stock of it.
Most of the others were asleep; Amadrya and Everest lay a small distance from the fire, both fast asleep. Macaria still didn’t trust them, but she hadn’t expected anything else. She and Everest both knew the rules of the game they’d gotten into, they knew what it meant to be a career. There was a code, unspoken rules. One of the biggest was that you couldn’t trust anyone, especially your allies. Amadrya had admittedly been a wildcard, but nothing Macaria didn’t feel like she could control. Alessandro had already down his ability to temper Amadrya’s fire. She could be intimidated like anyone else, and was nowhere near as tough as she liked to seem.
Halina lay sleeping too, her blonde hair shining in the flames of the fire. She was someone Macaria also knew she couldn’t trust; she couldn’t be deceived by the girl’s youth. It was plain to Macaria that Halina was manipulative and every but as murderous as the rest of the group. Not to be underestimated. Underestimation of girls like Halina usually meant ending up with your throat cut in your sleep.
Alessandro, though, was awake. The only one that, despite her better judgement, Macaria trusted. He stared into the flames of the fire, before lifting his gaze to hers.
“I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured as he stared into her eyes, like he was searching for her soul. Her fear was that he would find it.
“Do what?” Macaria asked warily as she sat and retied her hair. She’d washed it earlier after the group found a good source of water, and she’d allowed it to dry before she put it back up.
“I don’t know that either,” he admitted “just that I can tell exactly what game you’re playing, what your plans are, and yet somehow every fibre of my being still wants to let myself be fooled by you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Macaria commented innocently, throwing in a little shrug for good measure
“Oh please, don’t play stupid with me,” he said “it’s an insult to both of us.”
Macaria was silent for a moment, not sure how to respond to that. Finally, after a while of trying to think up some clever response to throw him off, she just sighed lightly.
“And why do you think you want to be fooled so much?” Macaria asked “Do you just want to believe we’re not in a fight to the death? That one of us is going to be the death of the other?”
“No, nothing so fanciful as that,” Alessandro chuckled “I think the simplest explanation is that I have feelings for you.”
Well, that made Macaria’s heart stop for a moment. He truly knew how to throw her off without even trying, completely disarming her. She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks, which she had to turn slightly to hide.
“Well, you can think that you’re in love when really all you want is escape,” she shrugged “from pain or emptiness.”
She was realising now that she didn’t want him to love her. Didn’t want him to be fooled by her, because if he was she’d have to kill him. She didn’t want any of this. And most of all, she was worried that she herself was only loving him as an escape from emptiness. He was the first person who made her feel something after all these years of just being the Capitol’s robot. What if she didn’t really love him, but she just loved that she didn’t feel empty anymore?
“I don’t think that, considering at least one of us isn’t going to survive this, that matters so much,” he shrugs “or are you afraid?”
—————
It was after Macaria had been rescued from the Capitol and safely returned to the rebel base along with Amadrya and Holly, and after Burton’s return from his mission in the Capitol. It was late and she couldn’t sleep, her mind filled with nightmares, so the girl had gotten out of bed and made a beeline for the training room. That was always where she went when she couldn’t sleep. It calmed her, allowed her to switch her brain off like the Academy had taught her. She could just get lost in the training, in the repetitive movements of throwing knives.
But one door along the route was ajar, golden light spilling into the hallway along with the sounds of voices. She recognised Diana’s voice, and realised that she and Alistair were talking to another of the rebel leaders.
“Alandria seems far more stable now that Acton is home,” the other rebel leader noted “which is a positive sign.”
“I agree,” Diana nodded “she always was somewhat of a loose cannon. But having Burton around calms her, gives her direction.” Diana responded
“And what of our other problematic tribute?” the rebel leader responded “how is Slayte doing?”
There was a period of silence while Alistair must have been signing something, before Diana spoke up again.
“Alistair is right. Following the loss of Alessandro Rune she seems to have lost her spark, as it were. Which is worrying as we were relying on her to put some force behind our attacks, considering her general bloodlust. She’s a readymade weapon, and by killing Alessandro it would seem Louden very effectively blunted it.”
Macaria, stunned into silence, slipped further back into the shadows.
———————
To everyone,
If you’re reading this it means I'm probably already in the Capitol, if not dead. Don’t even think about coming after me, because that would be stupid and we all know it. I think you all know why I went to the Capitol, so I’m not going to waste time explaining it.
I knew from the very beginning that I wasn’t meant to see this rebellion through to the end. The Capitol took everything I could have been from me, and all they did was make me into a monster, a mutt who wasn’t capable of feeling anymore. All they left me was the smell of blood, the sound of cannons. Alessandro made me want to be something more, he was the first person who made me feel like I was something more, like I still had a soul. But he’s gone and it’s becoming clearer and clearer to me that I could never be anything other than what I am now. In fact, that’s what Alistair and Diana were relying on.
I’m too dangerous to be allowed to survive this. I’m a mutt, a weapon Louden and the Capitol created through the Academy. If there’s one thing the Games teaches, it’s not trusting anyone. I cannot be trusted, I don’t even trust myself. I’m too far gone. And I know I’m not made for a world without war, or a world without the Capitol.
Someone has to take down Louden, and I don’t want anyone else to die. I don’t want anyone else to have to make sacrifices. I’ve watched too many people die, better people than I. People who deserved to live far more than I do. I want to end that today.
Holly, I want to apologise to you in particular. Not just because I went to the Capitol to take down Louden without you, which I know you’re probably mad about, but also because we were almost becoming friends, in our own messed-up way. I had to do this without you, because you still have something to live for, a chance at happiness. You have Burton, you have Catastrophe, but most importantly, you have the strongest sense of identity of anyone I know. You know exactly who you are and what you believe and you’ll do anything to fight for that. The truth is I don’t know who I am, and I never will because my identity was lost because it could ever truly exist. So I want you to be happy, which I know is hard for someone who enjoys being snarky and moody as much as you do, but I want you to try it for me. And for god’s sake tell that poor boy how you feel. Anyway, I always respected you, which I think is the biggest compliment in your eyes. And I’m sorry.
Now, I don’t want sympathy, I don’t want rescuing, I don’t want anything. I just want to go to the Capitol and do what I can to take out Louden. And if they kill me, I want them to make it interesting. I intend to go out fighting.
I want to do whatever I need to to serve the role I am destined for in this rebellion. I want to fulfil Diana and Alistair’s plan for me if I can, though I don’t know what it is. I can guess at it, though. And I always was good at following orders.
I’m glad, really, that it ended this way. I couldn’t see happiness in my future, even though I consider you all my friends. I can see it in all of your futures, though, and if I can make sure that happens for you then I will.
All I ask of you is that if I don’t make it, which in all likelihood I won’t, that you put my real name on my gravestone.
Yours truly,
Carena Lethe Harlow
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Post by 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 on May 18, 2020 2:37:49 GMT -5
“You’re a fool,” A chuckle is heard, black hair falling in whisps. Green eyes looking as poisonous as arsenic. Nothing about the girl that has seemed to appear out of thin air seemed quite...real.
Macaria turns, much to the creatures humor, eyes wide, and terrified. Recognizing the voice of a victim, of a girl whose life she stole. Of a girl who never got the freedom that Macaria had.
Holly only chuckled softly, looking in a mirror, green eyes following her body, the bleeding wounds that remain there, patches like clockwork on her skin. It seemed to be eternally like that, but the blood that drips is ethereal, and never stains the ground.
A shame, really. Holly wish it would, this should have been her life after all. Her grin is an overbearing amount of snark, hate, and annoyance. She’s not real, after all. She’s not quite just imagination either. A mutation, in the form of a code, a hallucination really, who can’t really interact with the real world, apart from whomever she’s assigned to torture.
Louden has gotten so tired of chasing after children, of children breaking free. When his team came up with the idea to mutate the mentality of the dead Hollister Alanadria, he had been overjoyed. It was a surefire way to take down at least two of the tributes. Burton, for one, who had been in love with the girl, and had her as a treasured friend. She had died to protect him, after all. The other being Macaria, who had taken the girl’s life. Who lived everyday, with the guilt piled up.
Holly could see it in the living girl’s eyes, how they glazed over, how her breathing halted, a choking sound filling the air.
“You’re not real.” Macaria commented, turning back around, “She’s dead, you killed her. She’s gone.” It was pathetic, the girl talking to herself, as if Holly wasn’t there, as if Holly couldn’t hear every word she uttered.
She walked closer, resting a hand, cold, and weightless, on Macaria’s shoulder. The girl herself froze up at the feeling, but Holly simply grinned, wishing she could hurt Macaria instead, but finding that her hands only found enough purchase to leave the faintest of touches. “You’re right, you killed me. That doesn’t make me any less real. Doesn’t mean I’m going away. You deserve this. You deserve so much worse. You shouldn’t get the happy life, the friends. You should have been the one that died.”
Words, words she was programmed into saying. Words that should break, and break, and break.
“No, you’re just apart of my imagination,” Macaria assured herself, and Holly backed up in mild panic for a moment. The hand that had found purchase on Macaria’s shoulder was glitching out now, so she lifted it, like she had touched a flame. Not that a flame would hurt her now, anyways. Soon, it returned to normal, though her eyes narrowed, clenching her hand into a fist and folding it behind her back.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Either way, think of it this way, at least someone on this miserable planet sees you for who you actually are, now, murderer.”
Macaria’s resounding cries fell on deaf ears, as the coding simply glared at her from above, cold eyes held no warmth or love or feelings. Just a cold, baseline of anger and vengeance. No smiled, or pats on the back, or comforting words had escaped her mouth, and no hope to accomplish a feat of kindness filled her fragmented, broken soul.
It was cold, and empty, and Hollow.
And that’s what she was meant to be. Hollow.
She grinned then, patronizing Macaria with a few coos, “There, there. It’s fine, you just killed a lot of kids, but hey, less mouths to feed. More food for you now! Right?” It was a fake, cheery sound.
She then heard a knocking, glancing back at the door, rolling her eyes as a voice wafted, concerned, “Macaria?” A boy had asked, and she could tell who it was, simply by the timber. Alessandro. When no reply came from the crying girl, reliving her own mistakes, Alessandro opened the door, his face becoming a whirlwind of emotions. Surprise and shock being the first, before his eyes narrowed, a gleam of concern living there, as he ran forward, hunching so he could rest a true, warm, comforting hand across the girl’s back.
“Shh, shh,” he began, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. He, of course, couldn’t see Holly, or, well, the Hollow, who simply rolled her eyes at the actions. “It’s okay, you’re not in the arena anymore, you’re here, you’ve changed.”
“You’ve said it before, didn’t you?” Holly piped up, easy to combat the words of the boy, “People don’t just change. Who they were is who they’ll always be. Or maybe that’s wasn’t you, but that’s the truth, isn’t it? You think you can excuse what you did on an academy?”
Macaria halted, eyes widening, before she glanced back at Holly, mouth gaped open slightly. Alessandro glanced around, current confused, as Macaria began talking again.
“How would you...oh, you’re...you’re just a part of my imagination. I wish you were real,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry, I’m so-“ she was hushed as Alessandro hugged the girl to his chest. Cooing softly, calming her.
Holly froze, disgust feeling her eyes as she backed up, Macaria was almost onto something, for a moment. But she simply smirked, schooling her features just as easily. She was meant to be a bug, not a frantic scaredy cat. She could say whatever she wanted, and Macaria would pin it all on her thoughts.
“Poor poor Harlow, you have no idea what it’s like to actually be made into something you’re not.” The words tasted sour, coming from her mouth, but sparked nothing, no sort of emotion. She was once again dead to the female cuddled into Alessandro’s side, “Then again, you’ve always been a sorry excuse for a person.”
She backed up, before she fizzled away, intending to find her next target, and plant the seeds of doubt.
—
Burton had been talking to his sisters, a depressive cloud hung over hunched shoulders, and as Alessandro guided Macaria out of her room, to go eat, he glared daggers at the female, before excusing himself.
It was funny, how he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Macaria. Holly couldn’t exactly blame him.
As the boy walked to his room, she silently followed, walking by his side, finding a small smirk falling into place. He didn’t seem to notice, eyes glazed over, a sadness over his features. It was like a cloud, folded over his body like a sad, depressing blanket.
It made the female pause, stopping as she watching him for a moment, her own smirk falling. No matter what they made the mutation to be, it was, deep down, still part of the real Holly. Which mean that, it of course, could read Burton like a book. But as soon as the moment started, it passed, a roll of the eyes, arms crossed. Tapping her foot patiently as she stopped by Burton’s door.
He went to open it, before a small scream escaped him, falling back straight on his butt, eyes as wide as saucers. He looked like he saw a ghost, and to be fair, he saw what was a broken, fragmented version of a dead person, so it was close enough to count.
Holly chuckled, watching him with some interest and humor, “Falling for me already?” She teased. Along with any cues of what was, she gained insight on who each of the tributes were. Macaria’s past, Alessandro’s dad, even her own misfit status as an orphan from the start. It meant she gained some insight on part of what Burton felt, but clearly not all. Burton liked Holly, and even if it wasn’t exactly clear in what way. And as part of a creature that was supposed to read a host, it meant that she could pick up on...well, how some felt. “Kind of sad I never knew you liked me until I was dead, you’re kind of a coward, you know that?”
He blinked, owlishly, before his own eyes filled with tears. He backed up, into the other side of the hall, before curling himself into a balll, lightly pulling at his hair.
She blinks, owlishly as well. She had expected...well, not crying, that was for sure. Maybe shock, maybe annoyance, maybe even joy. But she hadn’t expected full blown tears and fear. For some reason, it pulled at a heart she didn’t have.
Instead, she settled on her programmed tones, arms crossed, eyes rolling, face set in an annoyed status, “Seriously, why must everyone cry. I would think people would be happy to see me, but obviously not.” She pouted slightly, before glaring at him, “I don’t get what you’re so...upset about? Do you miss your friend? And yet you hang out with my killer on the daily.”
Sure, it was programmed, but she shared the sentiment. At east, she thought she did. All feelings were kind of a mess now, not really present. She kicked her foot up, leaning against the wall with a bored expression.
“Holly?” He sounded hopeful now, which was, at least, an increase. “Holly, how-you’re dead. Macaria-“ it sent a shiver down her spine how spiteful the name sounded, sending a chill to her core. Burton didn’t hate anyone, he was nice, and forgiving, and kind, “-She killed you, Everest, Maddie-I saw you’re dead body!” Tears were falling freely from his face.
“I’m...I’m here though,” she commented, voice cold, as she backed up, “I’m dead. She did kill me, and yet you stay here, around her each day. She’s living the life I should have had.” She commented, before looking down the hall.
“Holly, how are you here?” He begged for an answer, standing up as he staggered closer, causing she herself to retreat slightly. He stopped, however, wiping the tears away, “I miss you so much. I wish you were here. I wish you were real.”
“I am here, and I am real.” She added, disgust in her voice. Cold, calculated as she was, with her arms crossed, “And I hate you. I hate you for letting me die. I hate you for letting her live.”
“You would have never said that,” He commented, finally looking away from her, the pain in his eyes didn’t dull any, and his sadness seems to fall off him in waves. “The real Holly? She wasn’t a saint, but she wasn’t a killer.” The door opened, to his room, and closed just as quickly, leaving the girl alone in the halls. Even without the need to breath, she felt like she was choking.
She glared at the door, backing up, before chuckling softly, “It’s a do or die world, Burton. Trust me when I say I learned that the hard way.”
—
It had been weeks. Wells, upon weeks, and still, the progress was hard. Macaria was prone to bouts of anxiety, anytime she came face to face with Holly for that first week. Then she accepted what she had called hallucinations, thinking she deserved the guilt.
Holly, quite simply, believed she deserved it too. However, after about a week of bothering the girl, taunting her, and watching as she fell further from sanity, Macaria kind of just...stopped.
It was a stalemate now. Burton wasn’t as fun, often silent, and often sad as he would watch her. Like he wanted to move on and forget, but he didn’t want to either. Macaria just simply stopped responding all together, ignoring her.
That was, until a unique day. Holly was up, watching the girl get ready for the day, back turned, of course. Privacy, while unknown, still mattered. She tapped her foot, impatiently, and then Macaria shocked her. After days of complete silence, of acting like Holly wasn’t there, Macaria was talking.
“It’s like a stalemate,” Holly looked back, the girl had gotten ready, her knives hung on her wall, on display. A shiver went through her soul every time she took them in. Though she chose to ignore them, for the most part, as she focused on the brunette.
“It’s only a stalemate when you ignore it,” Holly tittered, though she was quickly confused. The look on Macaria’s face wasn’t one of particular confusion, but one of decisiveness.
“It’s just, he never tells me how he feels! And I never tell him. But I know...I know he loves me.” She comments, and Holly’s thrown for a loop. The lovesick look on Macaria’s face should have given it away, still, Holly huffs in annoyance.
“I’m here to be a guilty conscience, not help you with boy troubles.” Holly snaps, arms crossed as she sits on Macaria’s bed, her wild hair is askew over her head. The scratches that mar her skin oddly don’t hurt, and just stay in that constant shape, depending on who she talks to. Which, given that it’s two people who fear the fact that she died, it hasn’t really changed any at all,
“If you’re going to bother me, you can at least help me with this.” The comment is said with ease, pretty eyes narrowed at the figure of the dead girl, with that challenge alight in her eyes.
“No, I really don’t have to,” Holly comments, “I don’t owe you anything, you killed me.”
“I’m aware, but the simple fact is, it’s my mind, my controls. My guilt might be eating me up inside, so if im conjuring you, you’re helping me. I’ve dealt with your nagging for long enough.”
Holly flounders for words, mouth opening and closing multiple times. It’s like before the games, the fiery spirit Macaria has. Holly hadn’t seen it much, just constant guilt and brokenness. Her jaw sets in a firm line, “You won’t shut up about it until I talk to you about it, will you?”
“No, you bother me nonstop about being a terrible person, I’ll bother you nonstop about my love problems.” Macaria’s straight forward at least, Holly has to give her that.
“Alessandro hates your guts,” Holly snarls then, green eyes flashing as she comments, grin in place.
“That’s not helping, that’s insulting, and that’s a lie. If I’m going to be guilty, it won’t be about how other people feel about me.” Macaria comments, “I just, I wish I could be brave enough to connect the bridge. But after everything I’ve done,” there’s a sad, forlorn sigh, and Holly wishes she was never born, died, or recreated, “Do I even deserve it?”
Her hopeful gaze pierces onto Holly, something Holly finds absolutely stupid as it is. Holly’s been there for weeks, telling Macaria about horrible and selfish she is, and she’s here, asking genuine questions, “No,” Holly deadpans. “But, do whatever you will, just as long as I won’t hear you complain about it.”
“This is stupid, I’m asking my guilty hallucinations what they think of my love life,” Macaria huffs out, sitting on her bed beside Holly, the guilt seems to waver in the air, as her gaze slides to Holly, “I miss you, even if I was never your friend. You’re snark was so...honest. Everyone lies about how they feel, too nice, too cowardly. You weren’t a coward.”
“First of all, I’m very much real, I’m not a hallucination,” it’s pointless to argue, Macaria won’t listen either way, “And second of all, you’re right, we weren’t friends. I’m just glad you’re honest about how stupid and selfish you are. You’re still a coward though.”
Why does it feel like something the actual Holly would say? Why is there a grin in place, as she leans back on the bed, weight on her palms, looking over at Macaria with an almost cheeky expression.
Macaria’s face forms into a soft smile, mirroring Holly, as she laughs, “That’s the first nice-ish thing you’ve said to me,” She comments, before looking forward, “You seem so real.”
Holly decides not to comment on the nice thing. She’s not nice, she was honest, there’s a difference. And she closes up any lingering feelings of warmth or happiness. She’s not real, but she is. She’s just a bug, just a bug. But part of her is real. Something has to be.
“I’m-“ she begins.
“Real, yeah, I know.” Macaria finished, sighing softly, “But you’re not. You’re real to me, and that’s good enough. I miss you a lot though. Maybe that’s why I conjured you up.”
Holly hates how the he conversation makes her feel, how it makes her feel like she’s a face, like she’s not real. Like she’s just a bug, or a part of a mind. So she forgets it, moves on. The words are quick and rushed, and her eye sight stare at the daggers on the wall, “I don’t understand why you’re love issues are so bad anyways. Why do you need anyone? People just hurt each other, you’re better off alone.”
The bitterness in her voice was common, but seemed to spook Macaria slightly. For something supposedly made up by Macaria, the female seemed to never predict how Holly would act.
The eyes, rimmed and sticking out like a snake’s, narrowed slightly, “You loved Burton.”
“Love is for real, breathing things. I’m not breathing, and I’m not real, as you say. I don’t see a point in love. I don’t see a point in caring.” She can’t stand to look at anyone right now. She can’t stand to see the look on Macaria’s face. “Love is for taking life, Love is for pain. Love doesn’t mean a thing in the end.”
“That sounds, sadly, like something you would believe. But you love Burton, I know...that you do.” Macaria’s insistent, that glimmer in her eyes unwavering. Holly almost wished someone would come in to see the past career talking to thin air. But part of her rejoiced in the silence as well.
“That I did, Maybe. But look what that got me,” the grin on her face is malicious. Something defensive sparking in her veins, she stands up immediately, glaring back at her killer with coldness, bright and deep in her eyes. Macaria’s own eyes seemed to widen, curling up more on her bed. “Love is pointless and fickle. People you love either leave, or you die. Opening up your heart is dangerous, Carena, you know that first hand. You did kill me after all. Tell me, does Burton look happy over his love?”
That adds a chill, a silence to the air, and within moments, Holly is gone, leaving Macaria staring in a stunned manner at nothing more than air.
—
Macaria, after that conversation, doesn’t see Holly for weeks. Holly, instead, follows along Burton for this time. Drawn to that light, that darkened, yet flickering light that is his hope, his cheer, and his love.
It’s something warm, in comparison to the cold that Holly always feels anymore. It helps take her mind off of dying, and leaving fathers, and broken trust.
“You let her kill me. My love for you killed me,” were uttered, so many times, but never really loud enough to hear anymore. The dismayed look on his face prevented it, every time she said it, he would crumble, and she’d be left alone again.
He was out, with Macaria and the others. Macaria and him avoided one another, like the plague. Macaria, our of guilt, Burton, out of a burning hate. But because Macaria was there, Holly stayed away. So she went to his room, to wait for him. She was surprised to see Catastrophe sitting ther, laying on his bed. The cat had lost weight, didn’t seem as ean, or as active. And that alone made every cut on Holly’s skin burn.
Catastrophe, her sweet cat, had never wronged Holly in any way. And yet, Holly left her behind.
“I’m sorry girl,” she whispered, cooing softly, as she went to pet the cat. Cat, herself, stiffened slightly, smelling the air, as a coldness crossed her fur. She growled slightly, so Holly retreated.
She couldn’t stress her out anymore, she had decided.
“I’m glad you’ve found company, girl,” she commented. While she was programmed to hate Burton, and Macaria. Louden likely forgot about the cat, or simply didn’t think Holly could care that much about the cat. It was wrong, obviously. Holly would do anything for that cat. “Even if the guy isn’t a backstabbing asshole.”
She chuckled, watching as Catastrophe cuddled more into the blankets of Burton’s bed. The fond smile and moment took her away from reality. The emotions felt nice, not so empty, now so hollow. And overwhelmed by the love she shared for the one creature, her little kitten, she didn’t notice the door opening.
She didn’t notice it, that was, until she heard an intake of breath, and spotted Catastrophe bristling slightly. She stood abruptly, looking back at Burton.
“Are you crying?” He questioned, features a cross between shocked and surprised. Two similar, but different emotions, mind you. The words themselves made Holly aware of the wetness on her cheeks.
Crying? She wasn’t programmed to cry, she wasn’t supposed to care.
“What?” She snapped instead, deciding to wipe them away stubbornly, “I don’t cry. I’m just a figment of your imagination. So if I’m crying, it’s your fault!”
“How were you in here without me then?” His question shocks her slightly. “And why were you crying over Catastrophe. How does she...sense you?”
Too many question. Way too many. Cat is staring up at her, like she can’t see her, but knows she’s there.
She feels too compelled to tell the truth, and that’s dangerous. The truth means that they can win, that she fails her mission. The truth means that Macaria gets away.
“How would I know? You’re the idiot who thought me up? Why would I cry over my cat, dimwit? Probably because I love her!” She snapped, arms crossed.
Burton blinks, owlishly, before rubbing his head, “I just got done with training, Holly-“ he cringed at the name, “I-I can’t do this right now. I told my sisters I’d take them out to some shops today too, I don’t have time to deal with this.”
For some reason, that hurts too. Her skin burns, the cuts feel like actual cuts now. She glanced at them for a moment, cringing slightly, before she glares up at him, “So you don’t have time for me?” She snaps. It’s too defensive, she realizes.
He chuckles for a moment, and she wonders how two people that must feel like they’re going insane can be so carefree around the ghost of who they once knew. Burton just seems to take the whole thing in pride, however, unlike Macaria’s constant guilt.
Then again, what does Burton have to feel so bad for anyways? For giving her a friend? For teaching her how to love, when she was alive?
It’s the first time she actually feels bad for blaming him, though her gaze remains unwavering despite her turmoil.
“No, Holly, I’ll always have time for you,” he grins, holding out a hand like an invintation. She stares at it, for a few moments, blinking, as she processes the words. Her curiousity lingers up to him, and he chuckles once more, “Holding onto a memory of you is better than truly believing you’re gone anyways.” He justifies.
She wonders, as she follows behind at a safe distance, watching as he is gallivanting with his sisters, if it’s really better to hold onto a memory than accept the truth.
And for once, she pities that he ever loved her.
—
“So, he kissed me.”
“What an icebreaker,” Holly deadpans, laying on Macaria’s bed with little to no interest in anything, other than staring at the ceiling in pure boredom. “Nice?”
“Nice? That’s all you have to say?” The bed dips as Macaria sits on it, and Holly finally looks up. Macaria’s cheeks are reddened, likely from embarrassment or joy. She seemed flustered, eyes with a wild, excited gleam, and lips inna happy curl.
“No, but I have a feeling that saying I’ll never get to experience anything like that because of your would kill the mood,” and it did, obviously, because Macaria groaned with a depressive sigh that sounded honestly pathetic.
“You’re right, it did.”
“Next time don’t ask when I answer curtly, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings.” She immediately hated herself for talking. She was...well, she was supposed to be trying, anyways. Macaria even took notice, seeming brighter almost immediately. “What I mean is, is that I don’t want to deal with you ugly crying again. It’s annoyingly.”
“You always mock me when I’m ugly crying. You always grin and smirk and laugh and be condescending and shit.”
“What is this, the polysyndeton train? Why the hell did you use so many ands-?” She’s can’t help it if she points out the fact that it bothered her.
Macaria replies like nothing is askew, simply shrugging, “To emphasize a point, anyways, I don’t believe that you don’t find my suffering fun.”
“Oh I do, really makes up for bleeding out a slow a painful death. Karma is such a bitch.” It’s a lull of some banter, teasing, and joking. And it’s a red flag compared to what it should be. It’s no longer as much guilt, as many tears, as it is healing.
It bothers Holly, to an extent that it’s ended up better that way. It bothers her that she doesn’t care.
And it bothers her, because she knows, deep down, it doesn’t really bother her as much as it should.
And really, it’s not all that bothersome at all.
—
“I heard Macaria talking to someone,” Burton starts, as Holly decides to tune into whatever the hell he’s doing now. It turns out, he’s just planning some prank, or mission, or something, she couldn’t care less to be honest.
She’s there for the company at this point, he just seems happy, yet sad. Probably because of her. The sadness part, at least.
“Oh, so she’s cheating. Nice to know.” Not like she cares. She doesn’t want to talk about Macaria. It’s supposed to be her time with Burton, not time to obsess about her frie-her killer.
“No, she’s not cheating,” he glares at her, warm eyes filled with mirth, some secrecy in the orbs. Like he’s figured out some big clue, something no one could ever imagine. It doesn’t sit well with her. “But I don’t think you’re just my imagination. I think...Holly are you a ghost?”
No one can blame her for cracking up laughing. No one can blame her for laughing for minutes, and minutes on end. The simply fact is, this whole end up, to something kind of obvious? It humored her beyond her words. All this seriousness, proud demeanor, just to ask something so silly.
“I guess,” she shrugs, once she regains her composure, and realizes that he’s staring at her, eyes wide and expectant. Her answer isn’t what he wants, because he literally physically deflates at her words. “But I’m not? I do talk with Macaria.”
“She laughs sometimes, I thought you would hate her,” he notes, like this isn’t a scary situation. Holly’s horrified, beneath all her bubbly laughter. She’s been discovered, she’ll be erased. Rhat’s the facts. Burton has no reason to keep her around, no matter how much she wants to remain around and watch her cat, and watch Burton, and watch her past friends. Potential friends? They never really were friends.
“I do hate her,” she insists, much to his disbelieving look, she shrugs then, laying on his bed lazily, taking up as much room as possible, just to be an ass, “I mock her about her love troubles and stupid nature.”
“Love troubles?” He chuckles, and she joins in, because the idea is ridiculous. “Like there’s troubles. Alessandro and her are like glue. Like a big, blaring white sight illuminated by LED lights, set in the center of a dark city. They are a glaringly obvious pair.”
She nods along, “I agree, but she’s so insistent.”
“So, if you’re not a ghost, what exactly are you?” He questions, glancing at her, easily and yet warily. Not quite trusting, not quite scared.
“A mixture of imagination, memory, and coding.” She responds, easily, and calm.
Inside, she knows it’s more than that. It always has been.
Inside, she’s still the same girl they knew, a little colder at first, but her walls were coming down.
She still hated Louden, still hated Macaria, still hated people in general, and naturally was fond of cats. She was still snarky, and mean, and savage. She was still drawn to light like a moth, and drawn to danger as well.
He fixes her with a stare, stuck between hopeful and sad. It’s one she returns in kind, like a mirror, with genuineness for once, and a slightly more open heart.
She’s dead.
“But I’ll forever be Holly.”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 18, 2020 16:52:18 GMT -5
[hi it’s a terrible and short piece of writing for fun]
“Can I come in?”
Macaria, who had been idly sitting on her bed as she read through her new orders for the rebels, glanced up when she heard Holly’s voice to see her standing in Macaria’s doorway. Something seemed a little different about her, something Macaria couldn’t put her finger on.
“If you’re coming in to be an ass, then no,” Macaria replied “and that’s pretty much your default setting.”
“Burton and I, we did that thing, with the kissing.” Holly replied
Macaria looked up again then, her eyes widening. That was when she noticed the slight blush on Holly’s cheeks, the fact that she was actually smiling a little, a genuine smile that wasn’t a smirk. Her stunned expression seemed to amuse Holly, who pretended to examine her nails.
“But I suppose you won’t want to hear about that,” Holly replied as her smile really did turn into a smirk this time
Macaria rolled her eyes before excitedly tapping a spot on the bed beside her.
“Come on, come on, I wanna know,” Macaria grinned
“It’s disgusting how excited you are about this,” Holly commented as she walked over, taking her seat on the bed
Once she’d sat on the bed, though, Holly’s eyes drifted to the knife display on the opposite wall.
“Nice to see you’ve really made the place your own, Macaria,” Holly continued “that is a very unsettling knife display.”
“Well now you don’t get to use them,” Macaria pretended to huff, before continuing with “now come on, you’re stalling and I want to know everything.”
Holly rolled her eyes, but the slight quirks of her lips told Macaria she wasn’t really that unhappy about telling her what happened
“We were just talking like we always did, y’know?” she began “and then suddenly he made some big speech about what the Capitol had taught him, about love. He said he loved me and then he ran away. Then I was annoyed he’d ran so I followed him and... I don’t know? I kissed him.”
“Well would you look at that,” Macaria smiled “looks like I was right all along about you two.”
“Oh, shut up” Holly said jokingly, lightly elbowing Macaria “you better not lord that one over me.”
“As if I’d ever let you forget that I was right,” Macaria scoffed “now come on, details. What was it like?”
“Dude, it was a kiss.” Holly said with a raised eyebrow “our lips touched, I don’t know.”
“Ugh, I should have known you’d be the worst at girl talk,” Macaria groaned
“And I should have known you’d want a play-by-play of my romantic life,” Holly smirked “I don’t know, it was nice. It’s just...”
“Just what?” Macaria asked, crossing her legs and turning more to face Holly
“What if we shouldn’t be together?” Holly asked “he’s so... pure happy sunshine. And I’m so...”
“Snarky? Sarcastic? Much of an asshole?” Macaria joked
“Excuse me, I’m trying to have a genuine conversation with you, thank you very much,” Holly replied before continuing “I just worry I’m not right for him.”
“Oh please,” Macaria waved off Holly’s words confidently “the two of you are perfect together. Anyone can see it. Like puzzle pieces that fit together. You’re magnets to one another, Holly, you keep finding one another. That’s something special. I see it in the way you look at him when he’s laughing or talking about something dumb.”
There was a pause before Holly spoke again, her voice filled with thoughtful curiosity as she examined Macaria for a long moment.
“What did it feel like when you looked at Alessandro?” Holly asked
Macaria smiled a little, and her eyes seemed to go distant for a little while.
“Like the whole world stopped,” she said softly “and if you have that with Burton you gotta grab onto that and hold it tight. Don’t let him get away like I let Alessandro get away from me.”
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Post by ƤαƖƖαѕ ✧ on May 20, 2020 2:23:08 GMT -5
Burton was eleven years old, and it was the year of the 84th Hunger Games. They had only just begun, with the bloodiest day of the games (the first one) over. Burton’s mother had disappeared at some point about an hour earlier, but Burton had stayed up all evening to watch with his dad and sisters like he was supposed to. Gradually, though, Lisle had sent all of his children to bed. First Twyllla, then Lea, and now Burton. He would stay up a little while later to keep the Capitol happy. There was unlikely to be much action that night anyway; the careers’ thirst for blood was always sated after the bloodbath.
But as Burton headed to his room he noticed his mother sitting outside on the front step, seeming to stare into nothing. Burton decided to join her, stepping out into the warm, still air of that summer night and taking a seat beside her, shuffling closer to her.
“Mom?” he asked “are you okay?”
Satine seemed to only just notice her son, looking over at him and offering a thin smile.
“I’m alright, darling,” she assured him “Mom just needs to be alone for a little bit.”
“Did I do something?” Burton questioned, his voice laced with concern
“Oh, bless you, of course not,” Satine replied softly, laughing slightly
She put her arm around Burton, pulling him closer to her. Normally Burton, being that he was eleven now, would hate that and try to wriggle away. Say he was too old. But this time he didn’t fight it.
“It’s just that I find it hard to watch the games this year,” she admitted “I’ve always tried to look after you and your sisters but there are some things I can’t protect you from. I’m having to come to terms with the fact that-“
“-that could be me next year,” Burton finished, meeting his mother’s eyes
Satine nodded at those words, but was unable to say anything more. Her eyes were glistening, and Burton wasn’t sure whether or not she was in danger of crying.
“Don’t worry about me, Mom”, Burton replied “If I got picked next year I’d be okay. I’m smart enough not to run into the bloodbath anyway.”
Satine seemed to find that funny, chuckling a little as she pulled Burton into a hug, resting her chin on top of his head and closing her eyes.
“Thank God I have you, Burton,” she murmured softly “what would I do without you?”
She let Burton go then, releasing him from the hug and leaning back to look at him. She quickly ran her hand through his messy hair to fix it before telling him he should go to bed. Burton nodded, and disappeared to his room across the hall from the one his sisters shared.
—————
It was about six years later, and Burton was now with the rebels. His mother’s worst nightmare had come true, but Burton had survived it. Now was perhaps something even scarier for Burton’s mom; her child in an all-out war.
That was why the first night after their escape from the Arena, Burton heard his mother’s shoes clicking through the rebel base. The boy, who had been sitting in one of the living areas, watched his mother move down the hallway to what the rebels called the ‘war room’, which was generally where Diana and Alistair could be found planning the rebel attacks. Once she disappeared inside the room, Burton followed, running down the corridor to hide just outside the door and listen in on the conversation. The door was slightly ajar too, and he could just make out his mother’s shape as she stood with her back to the door.
“Mrs Acton,” Diana greeted with surprise “can I help you?”
“Yes, by shutting up and listening,” Satine began sharply “I take it neither you nor your big brother here are parents?”
“No,” Diana replied, a hint of nervousness in her voice now
“I thought not. Now let me tell you one thing. I’m grateful that you saved my son from the Arena, but if you’re wanting to use Burton for your little rebellion I have one or two things to say. You had better keep him safe. My child is not a pawn in your little game of war; hell will freeze over before my son gets himself killed for the sake of a couple of stylists from the Capitol.”
“We understand, Mrs Acton-“ Diana sounded truly nervous now
“-No, I don’t think you do understand!” Satine interrupted “if I find out you’ve done anything to hurt my son or put him in unnecessary danger, I will personally wring your pretty little Capitol neck. You do not want to deal with an angry mother, I assure you. So I think you had better make sure you know what you’re doing with this rebellion. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,”
“Good.”
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