Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Aug 20, 2020 1:43:42 GMT -5
What was Combeferre feeling? Fear, certainly. He was not so uncertain in his masculinity that he wasn’t able to admit that. Regret, for not taking advantage of his life before now, when his days were numbered. Dread, deep in the pit of his stomach. He had seen death before. He’d forced himself to watch the Games year after year, searching for anything that he and his friends could use to negotiate with. Deep down, he’d always known the Capitol could not be bargained with. There were no treaties they would sign, because why would anyone sign away the power they had worked so hard to gain?
Kelsier could win the Games. That was the first thought that occurred to Combeferre as he saw the greeting and came within speaking distance of the other man. Brotherhood had come naturally between the two of them, when Combeferre had been too little to stick up for himself and Kelsier had been too heroic to accept the idea of bullies, even when they were almost ten years younger than him. No matter what happened, one of them was going to experience the pain of losing a brother. There was always the possibility of meeting back up in an afterlife, but Combeferre had no proof that one existed. The only consolation was he had no proof to the contrary, either.
Combeferre strived towards pragmatism. He didn’t often achieve it, and he tried not to force it on others, but he and Kelsier both knew that the smile Kelsier wore like armor wasn’t practical. Still, it steadied Combeferre’s heart to see it. There was one thing he could be certain of even at the end of the world.
“I don’t suppose your crew was staging a rescue mission rather than saying goodbye,” he managed once he was in earshot, a smile touching his face for just a moment. “I think Enjolras was so deep in plans that he forgot I had to leave.” There was levity in his tone, but it was clearly forced. His heart dropped once more at the familiar image of Enjolras glancing back at him whenever he needed guidance. Whenever he needed a second set of eyes or an idealist to read over his plans. His friends would have to function without him, now. He’d have to function without them, for the next few weeks.
Shaking the thought off, he came closer to Kelsier, stopping when there was just enough distance they could speak without being overheard by the Peacekeepers.
“I have an idea.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Sept 16, 2020 20:14:35 GMT -5
Kelsier would have been able to guess a good deal of what Combeferre was feeling, because he was feeling largely the same way. He was afraid, but he pushed that back as far as it could go, ignoring the way it thumped in his chest and tried to drown him. He was stronger than it was. How many times had he proven that?
He, too, had watched the Games. They only served to make him angrier. He hated the Capitol, he hated everyone in it. He hated the Games with a passion that could have killed him under the wrong circumstances. He knew that, and yet he stoked the flames, refused to let them die.
He knew he could win. Of course he could. That wasn’t what he was afraid of. What he was afraid of was the possibility that he wouldn’t be enough, that he couldn’t save them. He had made sure to sound confident when he’d been reaped, had made sure everyone could see the smile on his face as he stood there, side by side with his own brother. He’d faced death before. He’d faced worse, when Mare was killed. He refused to say she died. That made it sound like it was an accident, as in she died of illness/old age/insert reason here. What had really happened was murder and Kel would never forget that.
Maybe the smile wasn’t practical, but it was useful. It offered hope when there was none. It offered something better than what was practical; something just as necessary as food and drink and yet so rarely taken. He knew it offered Ferre something the other man needed, and he was glad to see his face soften, just a little.
Kelsier’s smile deepened as Combeferre spoke, and he laughed lightly. “Oh, they certainly tried.” He said, keeping his tone light and casual. “I believe Dox’s exact words were “what’s the plan and how soon do we blow up the Capitol. Thank goodness for Saze, or we’d all be doomed.”
He shook his head, trying to clear it. He didn’t want to do this, but at the same time a part of him did. It was better than watching at home, surely. And it would spare an innocent life from being taken. Besides, he really believed he could beat the Capitol. He really believed he had a chance.
He looked at Ferre, a knowing light to his hazel eyes. All he said was “yes?”
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Sept 17, 2020 17:49:49 GMT -5
“I don’t suppose they considered that we would soon be in the Capitol, did they?” Combeferre replied, forcing himself to sound lighter than he felt. It was a lost cause – Kelsier could read him like an open book – but it made him feel better to pretend that there was absolutely nothing wrong. To pretend that they were just going on a journey somewhere and they’d be back in a few days with new ideas and a few good stories to tell. That wasn’t how it worked, though, and they both knew it. At most, one of them would come back. No, no use splitting hairs. At most, Kelsier would come back. Combeferre wasn’t planning on just letting himself be killed, but if it came down to him and Kelsier? He would tell Kelsier to go home. After all, at that point, his mission would have failed. He wanted to keep the other tributes alive for as long as possible. He would risk his life for that cause.
“I don’t suppose they bargained for the two of us in the Games at the same time,” he murmured, allowing himself his own tiny smile. “Or perhaps they understand the risk you pose to them, after everything that just happened.” There was no mistaking the fact that Combeferre was just as revolutionary as Kelsier. They both hated the Capitol – perhaps a hatred they had learned and nursed together – but Kelsier thought it needed to be destroyed, and Combeferre (though he’d originally hoped that simple negotiations would do the trick), needed a plan of action before he leapt straight into killing the President. Perhaps their ideas weren’t entirely incompatible. As much as the thought of doing it sickened him, there would be people who would defend the Capitol with their lives, and they stood in the way of freedom. Combeferre could not spearhead a revolution. He could not kill unless he absolutely needed to. He was better behind the scenes, helping the people through, pointing out flaws in the grand plans of the people around him who blazed like fire.
“A hospital.” Combeferre’s words were quiet. “I want to set up a hospital, when we get to the arena. I don’t know how it would work, but we need someplace others feel is safe if they’re in trouble, or…” he forced himself to breathe. “How long do you think the Capitol would let the Games drag on? Because if we can push that limit… it could send a message to the people.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Oct 24, 2020 19:21:17 GMT -5
Kelsier refused to believe that it was a lost cause. He refused to believe that only one of them could go home. He wouldn’t give up on the idea that he could stop this, that he could save them all. Ferre deserved better than this, he deserved so much better, and there was no way in hell that Kel was going to just let this happen. If the rules said there could be one victor? Well, Kelsier didn’t play by the rules. He didn’t even play by his own rules half the time, so expecting him to play by anyone else’s was just foolish.
He knew that Combeferre would be trying to find a way to keep everyone else alive. That was a good thing - mostly - but it also meant that Kelsier’s job of protecting his brother was going to the best that much harder. It would have been easier by far if Combeferre would just agree to stay put and let Kel protect him, but neither of them were really the type to sit back and let someone else take the risks.
“I suppose not,” he agreed, giving his own smile. “They really should have known better than to have us anywhere near each other. This is going to be hell for them.” He had to stay strong, for Ferre, for everyone who happened to see his face. He wasn’t going to fall apart, of course he wasn’t. He wasn’t afraid...that was a lie. He was afraid. But no one else was going to see that, least of all his brother, who needed to see that he was the same strong, fearless, insane man that he’d always been.
Yes, he was afraid, but more than that, he was angry. The Capitol enraged him, the Games made him sick and furious at the same time, and he wanted to burn it all down, even if he knew that Ferre didn’t necessarily want that. He knew that peace could only be had if they fought for it, and he knew that he was probably the only person who could do what needed to be done. He was perfectly willing to kill to stop what was happening. He was more than willing to get blood on his hands if that was what needed to happen.
He looked at his brother, eyebrows raising in surprise. “A hospital?” He said, surprised. “That’s an interesting idea. How would you let the others know it’s safe? And how would they know how to find you?” He watched Ferre closely, and then he backed off on the questions enough to smile. “A message is exactly what we need, if we can get it to work,” he said, nodding. “It’s a good idea. I’m just not sure how you plan to make it work.”
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Oct 27, 2020 2:59:08 GMT -5
They were both hero-types in very different ways. Combeferre was willing to die for others, willing to sacrifice his life to make theirs better, willing to negotiate and talk and build bridges where people said they couldn’t be built. Kelsier was willing to kill for others, and probably willing to die for them too, if it came to it. He did the impossible, but he did it in a very different way. Combeferre saved lives, Kelsier went straight to the source and wiped out the cause of the illness. There was power in both, and it wasn’t as though one was better than the other. It also meant, however, that keeping either one out of danger was an impossible task. Combeferre knew he valued other people’s lives over his own, and though he knew Kelsier would have hated that thought, he wasn’t going to change just because his brother wanted to keep him safe. What was the point if he wasn’t doing his best to help people?
Not for the first time, Combeferre looked over at Kelsier and wondered what he was thinking. Combeferre had never been the best at reading people. He did better with facts than he did with emotions, he was good at memorizing things and applying concepts, but he could never rally a group of people. He could never flare the fire in their hearts. He just… couldn’t read them well enough to know what to say. Unfortunately, that included Kelsier as well. He was easier to read than most, but still not… easy.
Was he afraid? Combeferre was. He did his best to hide the feeling, but he was terrified. He didn’t want to die, but he knew he would never live to the end of the Games. If he could prolong a few lives… well, that was all he could ask for, right? Help prove that he wasn’t going to participate in any fights to the death, that he would help anyone who met the wrong end of someone else’s weapon.
“I don’t have a full plan yet,” he admitted quietly, glancing at the Peacekeepers. “Ideally I’d be able to set up in a central location, near the starting point. I’d need to gain people’s trust while we’re all at the Capitol, which means… no weapons training for me. I can’t have people thinking of me as a threat, someone to be eliminated or afraid of. I’d need supplies, and I won’t have any sponsors, but I’m hoping… I’m hoping some people may be willing to forego medical supplies so they can be used for the common good.” There was one part he wasn’t telling Kelsier, because it was the riskiest part. For his plan to work, he’d not only have to stay in the area of the Bloodbath, but he’d have to dive in the middle of it to gather enough supplies and stake out a spot for the hospital. At that point, he’d need people to trust him. And not kill him.
“It’s just a rough idea right now. I need to… I need to meet the other tributes to see if it might work.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Nov 16, 2020 16:03:17 GMT -5
Kelsier wanted to protect his brother. He wanted to defend him, and he also wanted to save all the other people being sent to die, and if he had to choose...would he be able to? If he had to pick one way or the other, could he do it?
He believed he could. He believed he was going to save people, and he was going to bring this awful system to its knees. He believed himself unbreakable, indestructible, and he believed he was going to pull this off. And if he was wrong?
He wasn’t wrong. That just wasn’t an option here.
He was lost in thought, trying to make a plan. There hadn’t been much time to make one, but he had also thought of what he would do if this happened, and he intended to make the best of the situation. He didn’t look at Combeferre right away, his eyes focused elsewhere, his mind focused elsewhere. He was already in the arena, in his mind. He was already planning how he was going to destroy it, burn it all to the ground. He could inspire people, he knew how to say the right things to fan the flames, he just needed an audience and a way to be heard, and he would have people behind him, he knew he would.
He finally glanced at Combeferre, his eyes thoughtful and elsewhere, his mind wandering. He was afraid, of course he was. But that was taking a backseat for now. That was behind him, and in front of him was what needed to happen next. In front of him was a future he didn’t intend to let go. He would come home, he promised himself, he would see his crew again, and he would not be defeated so easily.
He looked at his brother, and dragged his thoughts back to the present. He needed to stay focused, he chided himself, not think of home. Not think of Dockson trying to hold the crew together in his absence. No, he shook his head, he needed to focus on what happened next, and that included this plan of Combeferre’s, this hospital he wanted to set up.
“I’m not sure I like this idea.” He said, his gaze steady on his brother’s face. “Don’t misunderstand me, I think the idea of a hospital is a good one. But no training? Trusting desperate, feral people who think you’re lying in order to kill them? I don’t know.”
He fell silent, considering. “Where would you go?” He asked after a moment. “Because it would have to be a place everyone knows how to find, somewhere open, preferably with supplies available. The only place like that is…”
And then he understood.
“No,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not thinking of setting up your hospital in the cornucopia. Ferre, they’ll kill you before you can so much as open your mouth to ask for peace.”
He looked very, very serious now. “Think about it. You’re no good to anyone dead.”
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Dec 1, 2020 2:19:53 GMT -5
Combeferre watched Kelsier very carefully. A lot depended on Kelsier being on board with his plan, and Combeferre knew it was a risky one. As reckless as Kelsier himself had a tendency to be, Combeferre knew his brother was a lot less inclined to let the people he cared about risk their lives in the same way. It felt a touch hypocritical to Combeferre, but Kelsier had always been an enigma. That was nothing new.
“Admittedly, I am relying on them trusting me. I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know many of them will think that it’s a trap. But I have to try.” He was firm on that. Kelsier could do the most good by burning things to the ground, by showing the Capitol that the people wouldn’t just take this sitting down. The way Combeferre was capable of changing things was different. Not entirely – after all, there were only so many ways a person could accomplish the same goal – but different enough that Combeferre needed people to trust him as he was, not as a symbol. He could never be the head of a revolution. He could be the brains behind it, sure, but his main goal was to sit at the bed side of the people who needed help and to tell them that they were going to be okay. He needed to be actively helping people, and not just through violence.
“I’m going to need to build up trust early on,” he admitted, frowning slightly at the thought. “They have to know that I’ll place their lives over my own. And I have to do this without the Capitol on my case, because I can’t imagine they’d be very happy with the idea.” This last bit was spoken in a conspiratorial whisper, his voice even lower than it had been when he had first mentioned the idea to Kelsier a few minutes before. This, of all things, couldn’t be overheard. If the Capitol found out he was keeping something from them… Combeferre shuddered at the thought.
“I don’t think the Cornucopia is as dangerous as you believe. I’ll have to wait until after the bloodbath, true, but the hospital benefits the Careers as much as it benefits anyone else. I won’t take their supplies, but if I can convince them to let me have the Cornucopia before we even enter the arena, then I’ll at least have somewhere to set up shop where people can find me. I… I might need your help, depending on how things go. People won’t trust me unless they know that nobody will be preying on those that seek out the hospital, so we’ll need a guard. I don’t want to pull you away from anything you plan to do. I know your plans are a lot bigger than a hospital… but I might need your help, if only for a little bit.” He smiled, trying to sell his brother on the idea. Ultimately, though, it didn’t matter if Kelsier agreed or not. Combeferre’s mind was made up about the hospital. It was going to happen.
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Dec 13, 2020 11:28:55 GMT -5
A hospital in the cornucopia. It seemed unusually reckless for Combeferre, which spoke to his brother’s desperation more than anything. Still...it was a plan, wasn’t it? Which was a hell of a lot more than Kel had at the moment. He thought about it, really thought, and he was forced to grant the merit of the idea. They would be somewhere easy to find, accessible to all, and with any luck, bursting with supplies. Yes, he knew why Ferre was considering this.
He looked at Ferre, watching him closely, his expression difficult to read. Was he really against the plan itself? Or was this him trying to protect his brother, the way he never had been able to? They were so different, almost opposites, but they wanted the same thing, and wasn’t that what mattered? Kelsier was charismatic, dramatic, dangerous and deadly, and Ferre was...Ferre was serious and gentle and he wanted to help people, not to after the people who had hurt them in the first place. This was so wrong, and Kel wanted to tear it all down, burn it to the ground, he wanted to kill the president and he would do that however he had to. Ferre...he didn’t want to hurt anyone. This was the difference. This was what set their plans apart. Could they work together when they did things so differently? When Kelsier would kill if he needed to? He didn’t know. He wanted to. He knew that much.
Kelsier couldn’t help the light laugh he have at the idea of the Capitol liking this idea. They wouldn’t, of course. They were likely to stage an “accident” for Ferre if they found out. The thought made Kel’s blood boil and his expression darkened slightly as he remembered this wasn’t actually a game. This wasn’t something he was just doing for the hell of it. This was a matter of life and death for the victims. For the children that had been reaped. Because they had been reaped, and whether he liked this plan or not, the fact was that he couldn’t make sure Combeferre was safe, no matter how much he wanted to.
He considered Combeferre without speaking, a small frown resting on his hawk-like features. He looked unusually serious without his smile to lighten his expression, and he didn’t speak, he didn’t move.
Protecting Combeferre wasn’t something he could accomplish this time.
But since when had he been a damned realist?
He didn’t know whether he liked the plan, but…..
Dammit. He liked the plan. It was just reckless enough without being completely stupid, and it sounded like something he might have thought of. He just didn’t like the fact that Ferre would be at the heart of the danger instead of him.
Well...maybe he could solve that. A small smile slid its way onto his face again, and he sighed dramatically, as though he were giving after a long and hard argument.
“I like it.” He admitted. “It’s daring, and it could work. Of course I’ll help.”
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Dec 21, 2020 2:42:35 GMT -5
Combeferre had spent many long hours considering the danger he was putting himself in. The idea had occurred to him almost immediately after the reaping, and he’d spent every minute since that trying to figure out a way to do it that wouldn’t make him a target. But he would rather be a target than let people die, he and Kelsier both knew that. Even if Combeferre knew that Kelsier wouldn’t like it. But why should Kelsier be the only one who got to put himself in harm’s way? If Combeferre could accomplish some good with it… he shook the thought off, instead watching Kelsier’s expression. Combeferre was an adult now. Kelsier could protest as much as he liked, but Combeferre could still go through with it. There wasn’t anything in the world that could stop him when he set his mind to something, and Kelsier knew that better than most. Better than anyone, really. Playing it safe hadn’t worked for twenty-six long, long years. If Combeferre only had a few more weeks to live… well, why not take a risk? Why not do something that could have a payoff far greater than anything Combeferre could have imagined previously? “You will?” he asked softly, relief etching itself across his features. He had hoped to be able to convince Kelsier to help, but he hadn’t depended on it. Suddenly, with Kelsier’s help, the plan seemed less like a far-fetched dream and more like something that could actually happen. “I’ll try to make sure not to get in the way of any of your plans, because I know you have some. But… thank you. Thank you.” He managed to smile, the expression genuine and even a little bit excited. He had a chance at making a difference. It was all he had ever wanted out of life. And Kelsier was going to help him achieve it. “We’ll need to spend a lot of time planning, but it will work. I’ll make it work.” - Orpheus Orpheus was tired. He hadn’t slept since he’d been reaped. He’d spent two hours curled in Mr. Hermes’ arms, sobbing for the life he had once dreamed of. Sobbing for the reality he had hoped to be true, because he had thought, as long as he didn’t get reaped, he could make a difference. As long as he lived another year, he’d be fine. He had managed to avoid the reaping for so many years. Why now? Why when he had just found the words that might make the Capitol bend? He had spent the rest of the time pacing his room and writing, trying to make the most of every lyric, trying to figure it out before the music was taken away from him. He didn’t have long, but he could still change things. And maybe, just maybe, if he figured it out soon enough, he could save Rue before the Games were over. He stood at the train station now, his guitar a familiar weight on his back. He knew they would take it eventually, but he was going to cling to it for as long as he possible could. It was his weapon. It could wound just as deeply as any dagger or arrow, it could pierce the soul. And, if Orpheus played just right… maybe it could make the Capitol change their minds. |
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jan 26, 2021 19:57:12 GMT -5
Rue walked slowly. She wasn’t stalling, not exactly. She was just trying to judge the person she was walking towards, trying to survey her situation. She was already exhausted, which wasn’t good at all because she needed to stay focused and be ready for the days to come.
She didn’t know what to expect. Orpheus had been...not what she had had initially expected. She hadn’t met him. She didn’t know him. But he had sung, and her passion was music, and she wanted to hear him again, even if she didn’t know why he had dared. It seemed a rebellious thing to do, singing.
She saw him, guitar on his back. She couldn’t quite imagine why they hadn’t taken it from him yet...but she was glad, somehow. Not that she expected him to play for her, of course, but...maybe. Maybe he would play again and she would happen to hear him.
A foolish idea. And one that she couldn’t afford.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Jan 26, 2021 20:09:46 GMT -5
Orpheus didn’t notice Rue approaching, not at first. He saw the train coming, he knew they didn’t have much time, and he hoped, prayed, even, that they would let him keep it until they got to the Capitol. Maybe even longer. He knew it wasn’t likely to happen, but he had to hope.
The train rolled to a stop in front of them, but the doors didn’t open yet. Orpheus glanced around, eyes finally catching on Rue. Oh… the girl who had been reaped. He took a deep breath, eyes closing for just a minute before he forced a smile. He hoped it looked more convincing than it felt.
“Hi,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to her him. He shifted the weight of the guitar on his shoulder, hoping he didn’t come across as terribly awkward. “You… don’t have to be nervous,” he added, his smile growing just a little bit more genuine. “I’m not… I’m not planning on hurting anyone. I’m Orpheus,” he added, though she had learned his name from the reaping already. “We don’t… we don’t have to be friends, but if you need anything, I’m here. Well… here for as long as I can be.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jan 26, 2021 20:42:13 GMT -5
Rue stopped, a little ways away from Orpheus, watching him. Not yet coming too close. Still...she didn’t think she was afraid of him. He had sung, and it seemed to have gotten in her head, because she wanted to hear him again, she wanted to hear him sing when he wasn’t terrified, when he was safe.
His smile didn’t convince her anything was okay. But then, maybe it wasn’t meant to. Maybe it was just supposed to convince her that he could smile, even now. Or maybe she was reading into it too much, and he was just smiling. She smiled back, nervous but determined, and raised a hand in greeting.
“Hi.” She said back, moving closer. She didn’t think he’d hurt her, not yet at least. In the Games...well. In the Games she hoped she would never find out what he would do. She planned to be long gone before she had a chance to see, gone into her surroundings, which hopefully would include trees. If there were no trees? She was pretty sure she’d be long gone in a completely different and less desirable way.
She stopped when she was beside him, her eyes on the train. “They’ll take your instrument.” She warned him, some part of her suddenly wanting to spare him from what happened next. “They’ll think it might be used as a weapon. I don’t think you would do that, but…” she shrugged, helpless. That was how it was.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Jan 26, 2021 20:53:01 GMT -5
Orpheus didn’t expect her to get any closer than she was. He didn’t expect her to trust him, or to even like him. They were going to be paraded as friends, only to be pitted against each other as enemies soon after. The games were not a place to trust anybody, even if Orpheus planned on doing it anyway. He had never been very good at being cautious anyway.
Still, she came closer than he would have expected for someone who didn’t trust at all. Maybe, like him, she had hope that not everyone who was reaped would be eager to kill. Maybe she hoped that they could insist on peace. That seemed unlikely. She was probably just looking to survive by whatever means necessary. Orpheus already knew he wasn’t going to survive. Not that it mattered in his case. All he wanted out of the games was to make the Capitol listen to him. If they listened… maybe he could open their hearts. Maybe he could make them remember that the Districts mattered too, that life was precious, that it could be their children dying. He clutched the strap of his guitar protectively.
“It is a weapon,” he replied simply, not entirely thinking before the words left his mouth. “At least… the Capitol see it as one, and they’re right. It’s a weapon that’s a lot more powerful than an arrow or a knife. And they’re scared, because they know it can’t hurt anyone in the Games, but it can hurt them quite a bit.” He glanced over, then lowered his voice so the Peacekeepers nearby couldn’t hear. “What they don’t know is they can’t get rid of the weapon even if they take away the guitar.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jan 26, 2021 21:28:48 GMT -5
Rue planned to be cautious. She planned to be careful, to not trust, but...maybe it would be alright to trust some people. Maybe it would be alright to trust Orpheus, the man with the music. She hated what was happening, she hated this, but she didn't know what to do about it except survive. How could she do even that? How could she hope to even survive, to make it through the first day?
She stood by him because she didn’t want to be alone. Because she was tired. Because he had music and she loved music more than anything, more than she had words to explain. Funny, how only music could hope to describe her love for music. Funny, how when she sang, only the birds listened to her. Funny, how she might never sing again.
She couldn’t hope to change anyone’s mind. She wanted peace, but she didn’t believe in it.
She looked up, startled, eyes wide. Was it a weapon, somehow? Could she have misread him already? She didn’t think she had...she stayed where she was. If he killed her now, it would hurt him. He wouldn’t do it. She didn’t think he would.
She understood a moment later.
“Music.” She whispered, staring at him. “You think music is a weapon. That’s why you sang when you were reaped. That’s why you still have your instrument.”
She didn’t look away. “It’s dangerous.” She told him, her voice soft. “But not to them. To you. To me. To everyone who still dares do something as frivolous as sing when they could be hunting or foraging.”
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Jan 26, 2021 22:02:52 GMT -5
Orpheus watched Rue carefully, realizing too late the way his words had sounded. Fortunately, she seemed to understand that he wasn’t going to hurt her. That it had been a misstep, a slip of the tongue.
In Orpheus’ eyes, if they didn’t have hope, if they didn’t have faith that things could be better, they had nothing. Hope was the one thing the Capitol couldn’t take away from them. It was the one thing they tried to crush. They tried, of course. They banned music, they limited where people could go, what they could do, they kept them busy, and they murdered their children right before their eyes. And yet… there was still hope. There was always hope.
“No,” he whispered, shaking his head firmly and holding Rue’s gaze. “I mean… yes, they could kill me for holding onto this, they hit me at the Reaping, but we’re not the ones in danger from it. Why do you think the Capitol tries so hard to destroy it?” He glanced up at the Peacekeepers. One of them had started to approach, apparently unnerved by their quiet voices.
“What would happen, if enough people listened? If enough people heard music that told them that they aren’t alone, that told them to look to their neighbors, to their friends, to stand together? Can you see what that would do to the Capitol? If even half of every District heard that the Capitol is fallible, that their children don’t have to die… they silence us because they’re scared. I think it’s only fair to give them something to be frightened about.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 12, 2021 17:34:09 GMT -5
It wasn’t exactly that Rue knew Orpheus wouldn’t hurt her. She did not trust him, because she didn’t know him and he could have been dangerous. No...he was definitely dangerous. So why was she standing here now?
Because of the music. Because of the music that he’d played. She couldn’t find it in her to completely mistrust him, even if she should have. Would it get her killed? It might. She knew that, she did, but...what could she do? She wanted to live more than anything, but she didn’t know how to do it.
She hoped her mentor would be helpful with that. Teaching her and Orpheus would be difficult because they were so different, but she had to hope.
She met Orpheus’ eyes, and her own dark ones widened a little.
Because he had a point. They did seem bent on wiping it out, making the impossible for people to have the time or energy for anything other than survival.
She noticed the Peacekeeper almost immediately, and she tensed, fully expecting them to take the instrument. They would. And they might hurt Orpheus if he refused.
She stared at Orpheus, and shifted a little. “But they won’t,” she murmured, glancing nervously at the Peacekeeper. “Because they won’t let people like you anywhere near them. Even saying things like that is dangerous. When they come to take it away, don’t fight them, please don’t get yourself killed for a dream.”
She was upset and she didn’t know why. It shouldn’t have been that easy to get to her. But she didn’t want to see Orpheus hurt.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Feb 13, 2021 0:31:04 GMT -5
Orpheus followed Rue’s gaze to the Peacekeeper. He knew they would take the instrument. He knew he would hold onto it for as long as possible, and he knew they would probably punish him for that. But who was he if he didn’t fight back? Who was he if he didn’t at least try? He wanted to fight against the Capitol, if he just let them take the music from him without doing his utmost to keep it… was sort of a hypocrite was he? No, he wasn’t going to give it up that easily.
“So we find a way to get near them without the Capitol knowing. There’s always a way. Even if I have to convince every person in the Capitol that they’re wrong… there’s a way.” He lowered his voice further for that, trying to make sure the Peacekeeper didn’t hear them. He wasn’t worried about himself. He was worried about Rue, mostly. She seemed on edge, and if the Peacekeeper blamed her for anything he overheard, Orpheus knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
“Don’t you have any hope at all?” Orpheus asked softly, but there was no judgement in his tone. Just curiosity and no small amount of sadness. “When they come for it, I can’t give it up that easily. But I’ll be alright. They won’t kill me now that the whole of Panem is expecting me to compete in the games.” He didn’t know that for sure – he didn’t know if any tributes had mysteriously died before their games. If they did decide to kill a tribute, though, Orpheus was fairly confident it would be for more grievous crimes than attempting to hold onto a guitar.
“The funny thing about music,” he whispered, holding dark eyes with his own, “Is that no matter how scared they are of it, no matter how powerful they think it is, they’re always going to underestimate it.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 13, 2021 0:46:25 GMT -5
Rue found she wanted to scream.
He was too hopeful. Too genuine, too kind, too...everything. It would have been better to be paired with a cutthroat, someone she could rely on to stab her in the back, not him, not him, not him.
He couldn’t be in the Games. He would be killed before he could take a breath. Hope was deadly, and not to the right people.
She met his eyes, her own wide and not a little bit scared and yes, sad too. She didn’t want him to die. She cursed fate for pulling the name of one of the few people left with any hope at all. It was precious, rare, and the last thing she wanted was for it to be snuffed out like a flame between wet fingers.
And at the same time, she knew it was her who would have to do it. If she wanted him to live, she’d have to convince him he was wrong. This...these ideas would only get a good person killed.
“You can’t fight them, please, you have to listen to me.” She whispered urgently, eyes flicking between him and the steadily approaching Peacekeeper. “You can’t think like that, you’ll die, and what good will that do anyone? This is the Hunger Games. If you fight back, you die. If you say the wrong thing, you die. If you don’t have a strategy, you die. There are a thousand ways to be killed and one way to survive; keep your head down and try to slip through the cracks. I used to hope too, but hope doesn’t feed your starving family, hope is nothing but trouble and I can’t, okay? I can’t.”
She shut her mouth quickly, looking away. She hadn’t meant to get upset, but he was just wrong. Hope was the most painful thing in the world and she wouldn’t feel it again, she couldn’t do that again, she just couldn’t.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Feb 13, 2021 1:16:34 GMT -5
Orpheus didn’t expect to survive. He had already mourned the end of his life with Hermes, he had allowed himself to be held, allowed himself to scream at the unfairness of it all. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, but he knew there could only be one winner. He might be able to make the Games last longer if he could convince the others not to hurt each other, he knew he could buy time for the people of the Capitol, for the people in the Districts to come to like him, to come to believe him and listen to his words. He was under no illusion that he was going to survive, though. His goal here wasn’t to come out the other side alive. His goal here was to make sure that after this year, there would be no more children sent to die for the pleasure of the Capitol.
“I’m in this for more than just my life,” he told Rue softly, one hand wrapped desperately around the strap of his instrument. He was terrified – the music was a lifeline, a reminder of what he was here for, what he was going to do. Why he couldn’t let the Capitol take it away from him that easily. “I’m in this to try to save lives. To bring hope.” Orpheus managed a small smile, hoping that would calm Rue at least a little bit. He hadn’t meant to upset her… if his goal was bringing hope, it seemed a pretty sad indicator that the first person he’d tried to bring hope to had just gotten upset instead.
“No,” he admitted softly, shaking his head. “Hope can’t work miracles. Hope doesn’t change the world we live in. But it lets us see what the world might look like if we just find a way to make that happen. Change isn’t as difficult as they would have you believe. And if I survive by passing up my opportunity to show people that a differen’t world is possible…” he shook his head. “I don’t know if I can stop the Games for good, but if I don’t try, then in a way, every death that happens after is a weight on my shoulders.”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 14, 2021 16:24:55 GMT -5
That was the difference between them. Orpheus knew he would die, and Rue couldn’t accept that. She couldn’t, she couldn’t let herself believe it could be true. She knew, deep down, that she probably wouldn’t survive, but...no. No, she wouldn’t give up. For all her protests about hope, it seemed she still had enough to believe there could be a way out of this.
She didn’t understand Orpheus. Couldn’t understand. He seemed to have so much hope, and yet he didn’t seem to protect his life.
“I know. I know what you’re doing,” she murmured, eyes flicking to the Peacekeeper again. “But it won’t work. People can’t have hope when they don’t even have food. People can’t sing when they can’t sleep.”
She looked away, pursing her lips a little, hugging herself. “They’ll take it whether you fight back or not. It’s pointless.” She added after a moment, not looking at him. “I wish I could afford to have hope. I really do. But I don’t want to die.”
She wanted to shake him. Make him see reason. Why she wanted to protect someone who could be the one who got her killed was beyond her, but there it was.
“Don’t give me hope,” she said after a moment, voice strained. “Don’t. Please. It hurts too much.”
She let out a breath. Trying to calm herself. Getting upset wouldn’t do anyone any good.
“It doesn’t work that way. It’s the Capital’s fault.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as she said that, because she knew what they would do if they heard her. “You’re not to blame for what you have to do to survive.”
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Feb 14, 2021 20:33:51 GMT -5
“It might work,” Orpheus replied, shaking his head firmly. “I know things are bad. I know things have been bad for a really long time, but… but things are just going to continue to be bad unless we do something about it.” He frowned just a little bit, tensing as the Peacekeeper drew even nearer. “You don’t seem the type who wants to kill people when we get into the Games.” His brow creased as an idea occurred to him. He didn’t know if it would work, he didn’t know if it was a fool’s errand, but it might buy him some time… “May I ask you a favor? Just something small, something the Capitol can’t hurt you for doing… will you agree not to kill anyone unless they attack you first? If… if I can make sure nobody attacks, then the Districts will notice. And if the Capitol has to do something about it, that would be enough to get the Districts to act.” Something alive burned behind his eyes. “The longer we stall, the more lives we can save.”
Orpheus knew that telling Rue what he intended to do was technically dangerous. She could rat him out to the Capitol if she wanted, and they could punish him, but… if he didn’t trust the people he was asking to trust him, then he wasn’t really worth their trust, was he?
His expression softened and he loosened his grip on the instrument just a little bit.
“You look at hope like it’s a weapon the Capitol can use against us. But… but it’s not just that. It’s our most powerful weapon against them, too. I’m not going to ask you to hope right now. But I hope… I hope maybe I can show you that it’s safe to hope. That it’s worth it.” A small smile pulled at his face – genuine and honest. He wasn’t trying to make a promise, but he would still do his best to make good on it.
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 26, 2021 19:09:07 GMT -5
Things were going to continue to be bad. Rue knew this mission, this insane plan Orpheus had, was doomed to fail. She wasn’t a pessimist. She was just being realistic. If no one had succeeded in stopping it yet, then who did they think they were, to succeed where all others had failed? Who did they think they were to think they had a chance when no one else had done it? They weren’t special. They didn’t have anything the people before them hadn’t had.
The truth was that Rue put survival above all else. Not only hers, but her siblings, too. Her family. She thought of her parents. She was closer to her father. She wondered how this would hurt him.
It was easier not to think of that.
She froze.
And stared. Because what he was asking of her...how could she possibly agree? Then again...how could she not?
“Okay, Orpheus,” she murmured, meeting his eyes, her wide dark ones older than she should be. Funny, that she’d nearly made it to age twelve, and she would never even legally take out tesserae. Her lie would die with her. She wondered if she’d make it to her birthday…
She breathed out. He was getting in her head, it seemed. This was the way things were. She couldn’t afford hope. The price was too high.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, voice broken, searching hazel eyes. “I can’t.”
And she looked away. She didn’t want to watch as the Peacekeepers took his instrument. As they hurt him. She was a coward, she supposed, for not stopping them. Survival had a price nearly as high as hope, it seemed. But it was one she’d been paying her whole life, and she wasn’t about to stop now.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Feb 27, 2021 3:25:40 GMT -5
Orpheus didn’t really think he was special. Anyone could have stumbled upon words that the Districts would listen to. Plenty of people had done things that the Capitol was terrified. He just… he had hope that he could change things. He had hope that he would get lucky, that he would be able to do what countless people had tried to do. And in doing it… he would bring them peace. Honor them. He wasn’t doing this alone. He was doing it on the shoulders of every person who had looked at the Capitol and had told it ‘no.’ He was doing it on the shoulders of the dead, who had started to show the Districts how unfair it all was. Who had been silenced before they could speak. Maybe he would be silenced, too. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. Perhaps he was just reckless. Perhaps he placed little value on his own life. Perhaps he even had a death wish. But if he were honest with himself, he didn’t think that was it.
“Thank you, Rue,” he whispered, a small smile touching the corner of his lips. That was all he could ask, for now. He believed her. He believed she wouldn’t kill unless she absolutely had to. Two tributes convinced… twenty-two to go.
“Don’t apologize,” Orpheus added, his expression unchanging. “I want to help make a world where it’s safe for you to hope. Until then… don’t apologize.” Hope was going to take down the Capitol. Orpheus was absolutely certain about that, but he wasn’t going to press it now.
The train was probably going to depart soon. He could see through the windows to the people finishing up cleaning the inside.
“You, boy.”
Orpheus whirled at the sound of someone speaking behind him. It was the Peacekeeper. His grip tightened on his guitar strap, and he searched the Peacekeeper’s eyes.
“The instrument.” The woman held her hand out, and Orpheus instinctively drew backwards.
“It’s my token,” Orpheus replied softly, voice strangled. He wasn’t going to just let it go. As calm as he had sounded speaking to Rue about what would happen if they took the guitar… it was different when it was actually happening. He would fight like hell to keep it. It would be taken from him anyway, no matter how hard he held on. He just had to hope they’d be kind enough to bring it home to Mr. Hermes.
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Feb 28, 2021 22:12:40 GMT -5
It was possible that Orpheus was right. That he wasn’t different, that anyone could find the words he could. Maybe the difference was just that no one else had. No one else had enough hope to go looking, and so they didn’t find it. Orpheus, though...Orpheus seemed to have that much hope. He seemed to be able to keep searching, no matter what.
And Rue didn’t completely understand. She didn’t get it, how he managed to cling to this belief that things could be better than they were. Things couldn’t get better. It was all downhill from here.
She had to wonder if he did have a death wish. This seemed the fastest way to die, to her. How could he continue on like this, knowing how dangerous it was? How could he be willing to give up his own life so easily? Survival was what Rue wanted most in the world. Survival was prioritized over all else. She she didn’t understand.
She looked away. She wasn’t lying to him...she didn’t think she could have done that. She wouldn’t kill, not unless she has to. She wouldn’t look for trouble, and she’d pray it didn’t find her. That had been the plan, anyway. No, she wasn’t changing anything for him, she wasn’t trying to get too involved. If he had a death wish, fine. This was the place to have one, she figured. One less person to worry about, as awful as the thought was.
She didn’t want him to die, of course she didn’t, but how could she possibly do anything about it? She was going to be twelve years old before long. She could barely take care of herself, she didn’t need to babysit someone else.
She tensed as someone else spoke. The Peacekeeper had arrived.
Rue watched, tense. She didn’t like this. She really didn’t like this, she didn’t want to see Orpheus get hurt...but that was clearly what was about to happen here. Think, Rue. Think.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think. If Orpheus didn’t let it go, then they would hurt him. So she had to think of a way to make him let go. Preferably within putting herself in danger, but...maybe something in his words had rung true for her.
“Please let it go,” she murmured, giving Orpheus a pleading look. “Please don’t make me watch them hurt you.”
Would he listen? She hoped he would. She hoped like hell he would give up, just this once.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Feb 28, 2021 23:54:10 GMT -5
Orpheus had already accepted that the Games would kill him. It hadn’t been an easy conclusion to come to, and he was still processing it, but he knew better than anyone that he had no chance of survival. He wasn’t going to kill anyone, and if he somehow managed to do what he wanted to, the Capitol was going to kill him specifically. He had to be ready for that – even Mr. Hermes had warned him of that when he had come to say goodbye. The Capitol was going to hate him for what he planned to do. And he could do it more effectively with the guitar, but he could do it effectively nonetheless without it.
No, he didn’t have a death wish. It was just that he knew he was going to die anyway, so why not make his death mean something? Why not try to inspire the people who he had grown up with, the people who had once had hope, before the Capitol had beaten it out of them? He was going to try. He couldn’t promise Rue or anyone else that he was going to succeed, but he knew he had to try. And if even one person remembered how to hope because of him? Well… he would consider that a success.
They came for the instrument too soon. He knew they had to. He knew they considered it a weapon, and he knew that several of the others in the game likely would have used it as such. Only he (and now Rue) knew it was a weapon, but not the sort they thought it was. He clung to it tightly, eyes narrowed as the Peacekeeper approached. He didn’t want to give it up. It was a lifeline, it was safety, it was home.
“Hand it over!” The Peacekeeper barked, and Orpheus just clung on tighter. He looked at Rue, then shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, squeezing his eyes shut with the force it took to keep holding on. He could feel the Peacekeeper pulling at the strap, felt himself start to be yanked backwards. “I won’t just let them take it away from me.” He knew it was stupid. He was clinging on to the instrument like Rue was clinging on to life. He knew the instrument itself wasn’t hope, but it was what he had used to teach himself to hope, and there wasn’t much difference.
He noticed one of the other Peacekeepers start to approach, so he dug his feet into the ground and hugged the instrument to his chest, trying to keep it out of their hands. He wouldn’t use it as a weapon. Not even on them.
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Mar 1, 2021 18:01:20 GMT -5
Rue didn’t believe in no chance. She didn’t believe that there was nothing to be done. She knew, deep down, that she was probably going to die, but she refused to accept that, not yet. She would not accept her death until it happened.
But if Orpheus continued as he planned to now...well. She didn’t believe he would make it. She didn’t think he could carry out his plan and survive. Didn’t he know that?
She couldn’t understand why he was okay with this. She couldn’t understand how he wasn’t fighting as hard as he possibly could to stay alive.
She couldn’t tell how confident he was. Did he really believe this was possible, or was he just desperate? Did he have a plan B? Another option? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t just...believe in him that easily. Not when she knew what happened to dreamers.
She wanted him to give it up. Just...let it go. If he did that...if he did that, then maybe he would be okay. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t make him see reason, couldn’t make him listen. He was too stubborn, she thought, to see reason. He was too stubborn to have any sense,
She could only watch as they came for the instrument, as Orpheus, as she’d known he would, refused to hand it over. She bit her tongue, trying hard not to speak, not to interfere. Just...keep her head down.
They were going to take it no matter what he did. They were going to take it, and he was going to get hurt, and there was nothing she could do. Helpless. She hated being helpless. She wanted to stop him, force him to see reason, but all she could do was wait for the worst to happen.
And then another one began to approach and she gave a tiny whimper, fear flashing in her dark eyes. She didn’t want him to get hurt, or worse. She didn’t want the one person in the entire world who still had hope to die for a stupid instrument.
Her jaw set. She wouldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t.
As soon as the Peacekeeper was close enough to hurt Orpheus, she moved in front, aiming to take the blow, if there was one. It was a split second decision. She didn’t have time or take it back.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Mar 1, 2021 19:56:17 GMT -5
For Orpheus, there was no plan B. There was no getting around the fact that he was going to die, and this was his last chance to make any sort of difference in the world. The Capitol was giving him a platform, and they didn’t even realize it. They set the system up perfectly. They made scared kids kill each other in front of the entire nation, and they convinced everyone else that there was nothing to be done. If anyone questioned it, they could be hurt, their family could be hurt… Orpheus was in the unique position of having very little to lose.
Of course, if they figured out what he was doing they could hurt Hermes, but very few people knew that Orpheus had been raised by him. Legally, he was still in Calliope’s care, though he hadn’t seen her in years. They could hurt Orpheus, but so what? He was going to die anyway. He wasn’t going to kill anyone, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. He was going to get his song out there if it killed him. He knew it was going to. He knew the Capitol would get back at him. That was why he had to make the song powerful enough. Powerful enough that people heard it and understood the power they had, even if Orpheus was killed directly after. He didn’t’ know how to lead a revolution. He wasn’t smart enough for that. But what he could do was start one, show people that it was okay to hope, that there was a chance to take the future in their own hands and run with it. The Capitol only had power because the people thought it did. If they realized how much power they had themselves… it would be over for the Capitol, and Orpheus had a feeling they knew it.
Now, though, he wasn’t thinking about the Capitol or a revolution. He was just clinging to the guitar, clinging to the last thing he had left of home, the last thing he had left of Mr. Hermes, of his childhood… he didn’t care if he got hurt. Of course… he didn’t want to make Rue watch that, but in the moment it was just Orpheus and the Peacekeepers, and the guitar, and the one was drawing closer and his hand was raised and Orpheus flinched away and then… no.
“Don’t hurt her!” Orpheus cried in a strangled voice as the Peacekeeper’s hand started downwards. “I’ll give it to you, just don’t… don’t hurt her…”
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Mar 2, 2021 0:04:33 GMT -5
Rue had a lot to lose. She had her entire family...her own life. She didn’t want to lose it, not to a stupid hope that wouldn’t work. Not to anything.
Her siblings were counting on her to come home. Her siblings needed her to win, to bring them a victory that would feed them and keep them alive and safe...or safer, anyway.
So she couldn’t afford to do anything that might jeopardize her chances of survival. It wasn’t only her life on the line, though that might have been enough on its own. It was her whole family she needed to protect.
If he knew what was happening...if he knew this would get him killed...why did he continue? Why didn’t he stop? Rue didn’t understand why he was so sure it was worth his life, this hope he clung to like a lifeline, like it could keep his head above the water, when they both knew it couldn’t. Hope hurt. Hope hurt too badly for Rue to allow it anywhere near her. And, yet...she hadn’t given up, had she? She hadn’t accepted her own death. So, maybe, maybe, there was a sliver of hope she still clung to, even if she didn’t quite realize it.
She didn’t know how to believe in a revolution. She didn’t know how to believe that things could be okay, that they could be safe. She had never been safe in her entire life, and she didn’t think she was going to start now. It didn’t feel possible.
She was standing between Orpheus and the Peacekeeper, staring, eyes wide, as the hand moved downwards. She’d made this choice. She’d made the conscious decision to do the exact opposite of what she’d promised herself. This was so stupid, she knew it was stupid, she knew it was going to get her killed and she didn’t move out of the way.
The Peacekeeper slapped her, hard, and she fell without a sound, catching herself on her hands. She didn’t get up, just reached up and silently felt her face where it stung. That was going to leave a bruise, she knew. They’d cover it with makeup, undoubtedly.
|
|
Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
|
Post by strider on Mar 2, 2021 1:29:52 GMT -5
Orpheus saw the blow coming down, but he was too late to stop it. Too late to protect Rue. He had promised her hope, and all he’d done was gotten her hurt. The guitar didn’t matter now that someone alive – someone who wasn’t Orpheus – had paid for it in pain. His eyes narrowed and he felt anger flare to life inside of him, an ugly and unfamiliar emotion. He pulled the strap over his head and shoved the instrument at the Peacekeeper who hadn’t hurt Rue. At least the Peacekeepers tended to be kind to the families of the tributes. Orpheus had little doubt that the guitar was going to go back to Hermes. It was like they were saying ‘sorry your child is going to die, here’s the last thing you’ll be able to remember him by.’ Orpheus hated it, but there was little he could do.
“I told you not to hurt her!” He yelled at the other Peacekeeper, voice high and thin and angry, though it was a difficult emotion to read coming from Orpheus. He had a way of covering it in something gentler, disguising the anger as best he could. It still got the message across. “I was going to give you the guitar, you didn’t have to hurt her!” He was breathing hard, eyes wild as he tried to remind himself that he didn’t know how to fight, and provoking a Peacekeeper was a very, very bad idea.
He continued glaring at them, though, slowly lowering to his knees so he was at the same level as Rue. Very gently, and slowly enough so that she could pull away if she wanted, he blanketed her with his arm, keeping her out of the Peacekeeper’s sight.
“I’m sorry,” he managed softly, shifting so that she could come closer, if she wanted. She had no reason to trust him, but she shouldn’t be alone in this. Not when she’d taken a blow meant for Orpheus. His hands had a tendency of running cold, so he held it in front of Rue’s face for a moment to ask permission before he very gently pressed his icy fingers to her cheek where it was sure to be burning from the force of the slap.
|
|
|
|
Post by ®Hawkpath® on Mar 2, 2021 1:51:51 GMT -5
Rue wasn’t surprised by the blow. She’d known it was coming. She’d chosen to take it instead of letting Orpheus get hurt. And now she was ok the ground and paying for it.
Her cheek burned, and she didn’t get up. She heard Orpheus yelling at the Peacekeeper - bad idea, they had tempers, making them mad was always a bad idea - but she didn’t look up. They’d gotten what they wanted, now. They wouldn’t hurt Orpheus. Probably.
She hoped she hadn’t taken the hit for nothing, anyway. She didn’t know why she’d done it. A stupid split second decision not to let them hurt the one person who had any hope left, she thought, then shook her head a little. If Orpheus was right, he wasn’t alone. Or he wouldn’t be alone after he carried out his plan. He was going to try to inspire people. And Rue hated that he’d begun to succeed with her already. Was that why she’d taken the blow? Because he’d woken something in her? Or would she have done it anyway?
She tensed a little as the arm slipped over her, then relaxed. It was just Orpheus. She hesitated, then shifted closer.
“That’s what hope does,” she whispered, for his ears only. “Hope makes you stupid.”
She let him touch her cheek, and it helped cool it down a bit. She glanced at him, meeting his eyes. “Don’t apologize for something I did,” she added in a whisper. “I’m fine.”
|
|
