A dark cloud hovered over Elius in front of Dorsett. It was truly a saddening sight: the absolute wreckage that the Areana could leave behind. Dorsett had his demons, he knew, but this man… What could have been was so much worse. Dorsett gently shook his head.
"Maybe you’re right." Dorsett didn’t want the man to be right, of course, but perhaps he was. Trust was one of the virtues that was killed during the Games, and it wasn’t something that really grew back. All Victors lacked trust. Even friends, even lovers, even family were never to be trusted again.
With another small half-attempt at a smile, Dorsett turned away. He looked down at the table of food and scooped up a small chocolate-dipped strawberry. He left the room and the man in it. As he bit into the strawberry, the chocolate let out a deep hidden taste of rose petals.
Jasper laughed, “Great,” as he pulled his hand back, “how about my suite, say nine tonight?”
He knew he would be entertaining company until just past eight, that gave him plenty of time to prepare for his evening with Elius. Although he had no intentions of seducing the man, Jasper was known for treating guests well, and perhaps Eli would become a regular guest in his suite.
"Anything in particular you like? I can make sure an Avox brings it up before you arrive." He tried to sound friendly, an almost too difficult task for the cold hearted bitch he had become. Venom and spite had become his tongue of choice.
Jasper needed things to go smoothly this year. He knew he needed allies, even if they were a bit unstable. District Four needed to win again.
His heart jumped and he swore that it was visible through his chest. Though if it was, Jasper didn’t notice. Perhaps it was because the man was so deep in his own game that he hadn’t noticed—or at least that’s what Elius was hoping. Besides, his tongue was stuck, motionless in his mouth as his throat clenched tight. A simple nod was the best he could do, letting the man know his response.
But as he pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, Elius could not forget that the cold sensation trailing down his spine would was unshakable—nor would this man’s advances. The victor had allowed himself to be trapped. Clenching his jaw tight he forced an uncomfortable smile, attempting further conversation. “Oh, uhm, I’ll bring it down myself…” he suggested, shrugging. All the while he backed further away, eyes growing distant.
Then with a final blank conclusion, he scrambled off. “I’ll see you at nine.”
Asher was taken aback by the man’s apparent accusation, though not entirely shocked. He had seen Victors mid-hallucination before, and this seemed to be no exception.
“Yeah, man, I am very real. And Snow…”
He paused. Trying to sum up everything that Snow and the Capitol had done to him was not an easy task. A year ago, he would have made some snarky quip about Snow getting him laid.
But as it was…
“Snow took everything from me. My dignity, my privacy, the person I loved most in this fucking hellhole. He got away with all of it.”
His breath shallowed as he felt the familiar grip of anger tightening around his chest. In truth, he shouldn’t have walked out of those Games, but Snow had wanted him alive. Snow owned him, and the one thing he thought he could have to himself, the one feeling he thought he could have kept with some illusion of being a free man…Snow took it away.
Memories washed over him; the Mentor party, the long hours at night, the sneaking off to closets at public events…
“It is absolutely worth the fight. It is worth the pain and the hurt. Because that is what reminds you you’re human. And that you are real. Because you can still feel for something…still want something so much that losing it breaks your heart. And you will fight even harder to get it. That kind of pain keeps you alive.”
Oh…breathe, Eli. Breathe.
You are here. You are strong. You are alive. Act like it.
A different rhythm fluttered in his chest, each palpitation a rush of varying intuitions. Piece by piece it was all coming together. And while missing variables continued to cloak themselves in a different time, Elius could almost believe that one day he would not fear the power lurking behind Asher’s composed cover. Still, that was like asking a deer not to fear the hunter. Under these circumstances nothing was out of the question.
Jaw clenched, Elius wasn’t sure what to say. He never had to deal with these kinds of confrontations so trying to help others was not his forte. Where he preferred to stay to himself, other people had no qualms in relaying emotions. In fact, nowadays that seemed to be his only learned technique of defense—that and backing away out of complete terror.
But he could try…
“Snow will die one day…so maybe one day you can get those things back?” Oh, now that wasn’t right. “I-I-I mean that, uhm, even if you’re real, that one day maybe y-you’ll be rewarded.” Though he didn’t really believe that. Whether professed to be a saint or high functioning sinner, people were never rewarded for simply existing. To truly survive was to sacrifice humanity and pray for a sliver of sanity.
A terse sigh moved him, his body shrinking further away from Asher. Come to think of it, he didn’t really believe anything this man was saying. Elius knew that he was alive but had doubts when it came to others existing. His fantasy of maintaining perfect balance between solitude and socialization kept him satisfied, but feeling grief was not something he took pleasure in.
Instead of responding immediately, he stared far past the man in search for even a small part of context to understand. Perhaps now it was best to just go along with it instead of trying to say something profound. But still…
“Do you have proof of that?” he slowly remarked, inquisitive. “You and I…we’re a lot different. It’s easy for you to say that but I think I gave up on trying that a long time ago. And I’d try anything to show that he’s wrong…but no matter what, I can only think of all the ways that he’s eliminated the chance for happiness as long as we want an outcome that he doesn’t. It’s not worth the self-sacrifice.”
01. The Crumbling - Valgeir Sigurðsson
02. I'm in Here - Sia
03. A Narrow Space - The Rocketboys
04. Breathe Me - Pandemonium
05. Sound of Silence - The Harmonics
06. I Had This Thing - Röyksopp
07. Himininn Er Að Hrynja, En Stjörnurnar Fara Þér Vel - Ólafur Arnalds
08. Arnalds: For Now I am Winter - Ólafur Arnalds
09. Scarecrow - Beck
10. Behind Blue Eyes - The Who
"The remains of what we used to have were taken away with the softest squeeze. How did I forget? How?…"
Jasper had spent much of his career as a Victor tricking the others and playing head games. Maybe this time would be different. Perhaps Eli would be the man to inspire change in his life. Maybe, but probably not.
"Eli," he paused, "do you mind if I call you Eli? You’ve never done this before. I’ve done this a for twenty years. These kids can be vicious, Snow’s puppets. The Games don’t end when we leave the arena, you know that."
Jasper’s voice caught in his throat for a brief moment, thinking of Pema. Her condition worsening day by day. Last he had heard she could no longer feed herself, and before long her support systems were going to shut down. She had fought so hard, for so long, but Pema was finally losing her uphill battle. Snow would yet again take one of the Bahav children.
He reached a hand out to the blanketed man, “How about a drink this evening? Give us a chance to get to know each other better?” Jasper flashed a gentle smile, hoping he wouldn’t frighten the man off.
Immediately regret swelled in his gut, instinct cautioning that he'd made the wrong choice. However, it was too late for ill placed advice from a conscious that could not be held accountable. It was so easy being swayed by emotions in the Capitol and he'd forgotten it so quickly. Now this man wanted to shorten his name, acting as though it was a type of endearment. This meant so many things and to be frank, Elius was not ready for Jasper to parade around saying his name without really knowing anything about Elius. But again, it was too late to go back.
He also did not drink but refused to say that, since admitting to more error weakened the ground on which he walked around this man. Nor did he want this man inside of his head. "I..." he hesitated, catching a quick glimpse of the man's expression and the hand held out in front him before continuing. "Okay. But you have to promise me that it'll be some place secluded." Still, that didn't mean he had to touch Jasper. so shuffling away slowly he nodded.
"If you think you can help...or vice-versa, well..." he bit his lip, reluctant to finish. "We can try."
Under. Over. Across. Sideways. In. Out. Stitch. Repeat. Under. Over. Across. Sideways. In. Out. Stitch. Repeat. His breathing was even, heartbeat steady and without irregularity. As his hands worked on his weaving, the man fell deeper into his world of solitude. Tranquility surrounded him now, the wind rocking him in its comforting arms and the sun blanketing him in its warm embrace. He was at peace. He was…
Snap.
All at once the world collapsed to leave shards of reality sticking in his skin, the splinters of hope buried deep under his skin. Motionless, he stared at the doll he had been working on, now broken and beyond repair.
“Honestly, Elius, it’s as if you don’t want to get better. It’s a shame, a true travesty.” The woman’s shrill voice mocked, a condescending air crushing what was left of his willpower to be there. Slouching, he raised his grave eyes to look towards the woman’s position. Avoiding direct eye contact with the woman’s irregularly colored purple irises, he was careful to only acknowledge her. Looking directly into someone’s eyes was dangerous; it was risky allowing someone the chance to gaze into your soul, and Elius had learned to avoid those times when possible. By only acknowledging her presence, he still had some control over this…or at least in his mind.
“Now where were we,” She cooed, her copper curls bouncing around her face as she narrowed her eyes to think. “Ah! Yes! I explicitly recall that you were supposed to be telling me about your first week in the Capitol. Now, I already know that you haven’t made any progress, so don’t worry. I only want to know why that’s the case—so could you please tell me, Mr. Hart? Would you care to inform me of these minor details, please?” She asked sweetly, her round verdant eyes fastened upon him as she vacantly drew out a pen and a pad of paper.
Of course, the way she phrased the question made it hard for Elius to say anything other than what was on his mind – which to be clear, was an overwhelming ‘no.’ But he played the part he was supposed to do. If he didn’t behave in the way he was instructed, he feared stronger repercussions than a visit to the psychiatrist. So, shaking his head in silent default he began mumbling out a sour response.
“They’re not difficulties.” Elius stressed, a terse sigh coming from his chest. “I—I just don’t want to be here. In the Capitol. I would much rather be back home in District Nine. That’s all I want.” he put, turning his head once more to block out her squinting eyes.
“Of course, Mr. Hart.” The woman put curtly with a small nod, quickly jotting something down on her paper before speaking again. “Now I want to hear about any social interactions you’ve had since coming here. Every little detail.” She smiled, pursing her lips. “I want to know it all, okay?”
Looking back down at the straw doll in his hands, he tried focusing on the small tears and jagged edges. Frail and dry, it held no support for him. The only purpose it served was to remind him of home, but in such a somber state it had no effect. Though it did remind him of the encounters of the many victors he had met – the collective idea of cruel pain that each one felt to some degree.
“You give up and he wins. You can’t do that.”
“Why? I don’t understand why you need to know that.” He exhaled, tightening his grip around the doll.
At that he could hear the sharp gasp, her air of superiority easily observed at the offense she demonstrated. “Why?! Because it is my job to make you better! That’s why! And I can’t help if you don’t try.”
“You’re that afraid of him?” he quickly remarked, his tone dull and uninterested. Besides that, with her response he immediately knew that she didn’t care about him. She considered it a task and not a chance to actually, truly assist.
By now she was fuming, face tinged a bright red in fury. “Fine! Then I suppose that I can’t give you the recording of your games. A special present from President Snow.”
No. Don’t do this, Elius. You’re better than that.
But it was too late. He’d fallen into her trap and he was staring in her direction now, his gaze glued to the disc in her hand. “But…I’m not supposed to watch it. Snow told me that I should not watch it. That I wasn’t ready.” He said, unsure of himself. Of course he wanted to watch it. It was the only thing left of his mother. It was the moment he lost his life.
“Who do you think gave it to me in the first place?” She said casually, waving the disc in the air as if it were a toy. “He wants you to watch it, Elius. It’s for your own benefit; you know—consider it your first round of treatment.”
Treatment.
Of course Snow wanted him to go through a therapy program—but why was he so insistent on it?
Getting up from her chair, the woman began walking over to hold the disc out for him to take. “Well? Aren’t you at least a little bit curious to see if they’re as wonderful as you remember?”
While his mind screamed to not give in, his body was behaving differently. Slowly, his hand inched through the cold space and took hold of the lifeless plastic. Still refusing to look at her, he got out of his chair to shove both his broken doll and the disc inside his coat pocket. And while he may not have been looking at her directly, he could still see the sly grin positioned on her face.
“Excellent. Come back to me when you watch it. I have a feeling we’ll have a lot to talk about.”
Asher slid down the wall to sit next to the panicky man. “So you’re gonna let him win? Snow? You can’t!”
He scooted away from the guy, hoping to give him some space to work through his anxiety.
“You give up and he wins. You can’t do that. I have spent the last long years of my life giving into that man. He has stripped me of my dignity; he’s been holding shit over my head since I came out of that Arena. And I’ve let him.”
Asher paused, remembering how Snow had grinned eerily as he placed the crown on his head. A chill ran up his spine as he recalled his slimy voice whispering to him.
You didn’t win this, boy. You’re simply an investment.
“But you can’t do that. I stood up when I could. I fought however I could get away with it.” Lynx’s face flitted through his mind’s eye. “It won’t be easy, by any means…”
As Asher slid down the wall, Elius gave an immediate jerk away. Eyes closed tight, he took in one last certain breath of air and…was he still alive? Peeking his eyes open, the Victor couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Almost too coolly, Asher sat only inches away speaking to him. After thinking that this would surely be his last few moments of life, bewilderment spread through his thoughts as he tried listening.
“So you’re gonna let him win? Snow? You can’t!”
Instinctively, his head tilted to the side in astonishment. Surely he hadn’t heard that right…Though as Asher continued speaking it became more and more evident that this was nothing like Elius had previously figured. So sure that this man would be his harbinger of death, his mind couldn’t wrap around the notion of being safe, if only for a little while longer—since there was always the chance that Asher was only lying.
But Elius didn’t feel like that was the case here.
“You give up and he wins. You can’t do that.”
Oh, if only that were true.
What did he even have to fight for? He had no friends, no family. He had nothing to love because that was the one true way to be hurt—and that was something that he could not afford.
“Is it really worth being hurt on repeat?” he stuttered, eyes furrowed in question at the other. Elius hadn’t noticed it, but he’d stopped shaking after consumed by his thoughts. Trying to figure Asher out and listen to the intent of the man’s words had some kind of profound effect—regardless of their validity. “Besides…I—I have nothing to fight back with. N-no-nothing is going to stop him from winning every time.”
Daring himself to look at the man, actually, fully trying to get a clearer perspective, Elius saw the weary eyes that laid in the man’s skull. The smile lines on his face that were probably due to years of forced laughter. The toned muscles and slight tilt in his spine as he pondered over his own experiences. The power that this man had and its horrible, consequences disguised as fool’s gold. The strings attached to his back…
He hadn’t realized that he was reaching his hand out to touch the man until he awoke from his observation, hand floating in mid-air. Quickly snatching the limb back to his side, he backed tight against the wall. Coming back in contact with reality hit hard, his breathing becoming unsteady once more as his panicked expression forced a crooked smile of his own. “S-sorry. I, er…I just…I’m not imagining you am I? You’re real, aren’t you? I—what did he do to you?”
Elius was visibly upset by the direction of the conversation. Jasper needed to make this connection. His name was quickly becoming stale, and his fellow Mentors were beginning to lose respect for him. The longer he was forced to be a part of the Games, the younger the Mentors became and the more out of place Jasper felt.
"Listen, I’m not trying to be a nuisance," he tried to smooth the growing tension, "I know you didn’t come up here to talk to an annoying asshole like me. I’ll be on my way."
Jasper cautiously made his way around Elius, heading for the stairs and hoping the conversation wasn’t over. He counted his steps, counting each one as he went.
Oh...what was this feeling?
He hadn't quite felt something like this in a while.
It started with a lurch in his stomach, the furrowed expression lingering on his face. Then his head reeled in confusion, a mix of thrill and sheer misunderstanding. What was happening? This didn't make any sense. How was it that Jasper was so easily understanding, apt to reading his thoughts. It almost seemed like Jasper knew exactly what to say when and where.
Say the words, Eli. Apologize. Make this right.
"Wait!" he yelled, a worried jerk griping him as he fell to inner curiosity. "Don't go. I--you're not a nuisance. I-I-I thought that maybe...m-maybe you were trying to trick me." the victor admitted, his head hung low. "Sorry..."
Jasper thought for a minute, ‘50th Games. He won the Quarter Quell. This is the boy that beat Tributes more than twice his age.’ Jasper didn’t make it a point to remember how each Victor won, and this man was no exception. This must have been his first rodeo, Jasper would have remembered working next to the Quarter Quell Victor.
"The Quell, impressive," Jasper said in as normal of a tone as he could muster, "Welcome to the Mentor Games, as I like to call them." He thought it might be a good move to see what this guy had to offer. Perhaps he had access to sponsors, or even the ability to mentor a decent pair of Tributes. It was never too early to find allies.
Jasper had been doing this for twenty years, he knew not every Mentor wanted to be there; him included. Elius seemed to be about his age, they were probably the oldest two this year. Asher would probably return, but he was still on the younger side. Unless Snow decided to throw in one of the oldies, Jasper and Elius were the old men.
Avoidance of the topic--something had to be wrong here. It was an obvious trait to pick up but Elius was blind to whatever game Jasper had decided to employ. Still, the warning signs were everywhere and he knew to be guarded. He just didn't know how exactly.
"The Quell is nothing impressive," Elius shot back, a scowl on his face. "It's just as deadly as any other Games. I only got lucky. In fact, I hardly even remember them now..." he lied, his long sigh an obvious tell.
Wait. Why was he telling this?
Why did he, for once, feel that this man was actually someone worth trusting?
"Y--you...I need to go. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to talk to you." He started, backing away. Yet at the same time, his mind screamed for him to stay. Perhaps it was the yearning for shared ideas...or perhaps it was his own feelings betraying him, making him think that this could turn into a friendship. Either way, he didn't want to risk it unless absolutely necessary.
"Aren’t we all killers?" Jasper repeated, and flicked the lit cigarette to the ground, "We certainly are, but I wouldn’t say they," he gestured out over the Capitol skyline, "They barely know how to wipe their own asses."
The Capitol citizens had no real understanding of the loss the Games caused, they had no concept of what they truly meant for the other Districts. To every Capitolite the Games were a festive pagent, filled with fun and games, food and drink, and valiant entertainment.
"Can’t really blame them, just the way they were raised," Jasper smiled and took a few steps closer to the man, "But us on the other hand, we hold the blame."
Jasper smiled and recalled the glorious moment of his victory, “We made a conscious choice in the arena. We made sure our lives were protected. We made sure no one could hurt us. We killed.” The blood of the lost children may be on Snow and the Capitol, but the Victor’s were the extensions of that power; the true weapons of the Capitol.
He stood looking at the man for a minute, unable to recognize his face, “Forgive my manners,” Jasper chortled in his best Capitol accent, “I am Jasper Bahav, 56th Victor. And who might you be?”
Eyes still glued on the bustling streets below, Elius almost wished to be in their midst although getting trampled was certain. Anything was better than being within the lashings of this man, his sharp words all things the Victor from Nine had once stated himself. However, this time they came from a person sure of their reasoning instead of being used as a defense mechanism.
On the verge of speechlessness, Elius could not summon enough power to turn and face the man again. There was something about his expression that procured entropy with each glance, malevolence spewing into existence with each slip of the tongue. And yet, Elius could not tear himself away from the dark aura starting to envelope him.
It was the sinking feeling of realization setting in that plastered him still, the truth pulling at his insides. "No." he quietly protested. "They're butchers just as we are. They've had the chance to stop this madness long ago but instead chose to use it to their advantage. Their means may not be direct like ours," he swallowed hard, the last word painful to loose, "but they are definitely murderers."
With a grimace forming on his lips, he took equal steps backwards as the other came forward. While he was in fact intrigued, he refused to allow this man a close physical connection since he somehow figured that his mental likeness would be damaging enough.
"I'm the scarecrow from Nine. Elius Hart--Victor of the 50th Games." he mumbled, ashamed of the title. "And I think I'd like to know where you got your ideas from..."
A dark grin came to Dorsett’s lips as Elius claimed he was healed. No Victor was healed. Dorsett’s own Mentor wasn’t healed, and she had been out of the Arena longer than Dorsett had been alive. Victors never healed; they simply broke again and again, fragmenting into different versions of their old wounds.
That same grin fell completely, though, when Elius accused Dorsett of attacking him. The thought of “That’s not fair!” jumped immediately to his mind, but he couldn’t quite vocalize it. Perhaps Elius was right.
Instead, Dorsett quietly said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” His eyes fell to the floor, and he squished a stray crumb into the carpet with the toe of his shoe. “I will say this, though. There’s going to be plenty of people legitimately attacking us during these Games. I hope I can trust, at the very least, some of the Mentors.” Dorsett’s lips thinned, and he quickly glanced up at Elius.
"Anyway, I’ll just leave you alone now. I’m… I’m sorry. For hitting on you and all that." A small chuckle escaped. "But, you know, you are really cute. Just so you know."
Still seething, the victor ran a frustrated hand through his thick head of curls. It was in these moments that he could easily remember what Michael told him in the arena. "You have to be calm, El. Deep breaths. Calm. Strong. Unstoppable. I know you can do that." So he tried, taking in several deep takes of air, his lungs filled with air as his stomach released the negative tension.
At this point, Elius didn't care whether or not Dorsett watched as he continued this exercise. As long as he remained in control, all would be fine. He was not crazy. He was fine. Perfectly capable of doing anything he wanted, regardless of what this man or Snow thought.
Casting a glare from the corner of his eyes, he tried deciphering Dorsett's words. What did he mean by that? Was this just another ploy to confuse him? Clicking his tongue in disdain, he turned his gaze back to notice his shaking hands. Desperately needing time to stabilize independent of so many conflicting thoughts, he exhaled sharply and waved Dorsett away.
"I can't be your confidant--" I'd only let you down.
"We can't be friends no matter what he's told you, and you know that, too. He lies just like you. I can't trust you...and you can't trust me." He said quietly, his words a somber admittance.
Curling further into his chair, he wrapped his arms over his chest as a chill shook his body. "Go. Go on. Cute or not, there's nothing here for you."
If his eyes had rolled any further back into his head, Jasper would have been able to see the person behind him. ‘Too much to ask for a few minutes alone?’ He thought to himself.
"No. Stop. Don’t," Jasper droned out in a dry sarcastic reply, "I need a friend or I’ll jump." He finished with a laugh, took a deep hit off his cigarette, and turned to face the intruder.
Jasper didn’t recognize the face, but by the looks of it, the man was a Victor. He was draped in a rather cozy looking blanket, and Jasper had to admit, it was cooler on the roof than he thought it would be this time of year.
The District Four Victor exhaled hard, “You look prepared for a hard winter, trying to avoid a Snow storm?”
No doubt the man was there to be a Mentor for one of the districts, but the real game was already beginning. It was only a matter of time before the Mentors began bargaining and playing each other, after all their success meant a possible replacement for next year. Jasper had been playing long enough, and even another win for District Four didn’t mean release from this hell.
His feet stopped, halting in place. Eyes were cast aside, the collective thought circulating in his mind reminding him that he never should have interfered. As the man's tone had turned from bitterness to sarcasm, Elius could only remember the many occasions back in Nine where others would act in the same manner. No one understood him there--though no one truly understood him in the Capitol, neither. Of course, that took some personal comprehension to begin with as well...
Elius felt his grasp tighten around the blanket as he pulled it closer, his plain gray undershirt hidden now. He truly didn't know how to address this man but he did know that he needed some response to show strength. He refused to let the other walk over him. "Then jump. You're not going to find a friend here, though I hear the force field gives nice, warm hugs." he quietly quipped, cerulean irises still searching for further support on the ground.
Unconfident, sharp wit had never been his forte, but then again, conversation in general was a vast gray area. "Snow isn't a threat if you have nothing to lose." Elius then noted, daring a look at the other man now. He was tanned, his very expression easily showing his frustration.
"And there is no avoiding something you're already caught up in. No use in trying to escape. We're here, so we have to deal with it. After all, don't you think we deserve to be here..." he trailed off, turning his attention to the busy streets filled with Capitolites. "Since, aren't we killers like they are?"
The wind whipped against the tower, but the roof showed little to no signs of it’s power. The force field bore the brunt of the energy, allowing for a beautiful park like atmosphere atop the prison like Victor Center. Perfect for a little break, or in Jasper’s case, a place Tayru wouldn’t dare to go. Even the force field didn’t convince the capitolite he wouldn’t fall over the edge.
Jasper looked across the skyline as the sun began to dip behind the clouds, making it’s way to the horizon. How many times had he stood in this same spot and filled head with the same thoughts, ‘I wish I could just jump.’
He pulled the carton of cigarette’s from his pocket, tapped it against his palm six times, fished one out, placed it between his lips and walked toward the edge. Jasper slipped the pack away and looked out.
"Fuck this place."
Jasper leaned slightly into the force field and took a deep drag as the electric contact lit the end of his cigarette.
Tartan blanket pulled in place over his shoulders as per tradition, Elius peeled himself from the corner of the elevator to plod onto the tower's rooftop. This was becoming a habit as well, as it was comforting, quiet, and safe. From such great heights, watching Capitol life pass below was a sordid affair. The fiendish hoi polloi was only interested in their own personal gain. It was sickening, though there was nothing he could do. A nimble servant finding longevity in solitude, some things were better left unsaid.
Though apparently not everyone lived by that same philosophy.
"Fuck this place."
He could hear the bitterness in the other's tone, full and strong. Whoever it was truly meant it. His eyes scanned the place, warily tracing his steps as he moved carefully around the roof. It didn't take much to see the man stooped over the side, smoke billowing in the wind as the cigarette lit.
Without much natural thought, Elius was slowly coming up behind the man, stopping shy of five feet away to simply stare. Forgetting all awareness of reality, he blinked, confused. Lethargic words slipped from his mouth, a gruff announcement to his presence. "That'd take too long. The only way to..." he stopped himself, now fully aware at what he was doing.
His body gave an involuntary shake as his feet began walking backwards once more. "I--I...I need to be going. I didn't mean to interrupt."
Falling would be similar to flying, would it not? But it would end far more painfully, Elina assumed. At least with flying, you could control when you landed. If you fell, landing would be more of a splat than a graceful touchdown. She wondered briefly whether her nose or toes would break first if she fell of of a roof; and came to the conclusion that it would all depend on whether she landed on her feet or on her face.
"I don’t believe you!"
Her systems jumped at the sudden accusation, doe eyes wide and for the first time uncertain. “I don’t know what you mean—- I only told you about the roof. Why would I lie?” With each of his words the girl became more and more perplexed. She was not here to hurt him, Elina had only wanted to say hello. Her own victory tour came back to her, and the apologies she had given to each district. “I am so sorry, I never meant to hurt anyone. It was an accident, and I am sorry!"
The victor whimpered, shaking her head slightly as if to clear the bad memories from the recesses of her mind. “I know you’re a victor, and I know I’m a victor, I’m not stupid you know.” Her temper was beginning to flare, an uncontrollable flame that would either be blown out like a match or ravage everything that she could reach. It all depended on what he said next.
"And I can kill just as easily as you can!"
"Stop it! Stop yelling! I didn’t mean to kill him, I didn’t mean it!" Her voice was nothing like its gentle, calming self. It was a shriek layered with anguish and anger, a cry covered in fury and self-loathing. She hadn’t meant to kill them all, but she had gotten angry. When Elina got angry strange things happened, things that she could barely remember because all that she was able to focus on was her rapidly beating heart.
And with that, the flame in her belly died. She did not want to let the fury consume her, not here, not now. Not on this beautiful rooftop even if the strange man was hurling words like daggers at her chest.
Elina dashed away hot tears from her cheeks, bringing her knees to her chest and rocking in a ball. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. S-O-R-R-Y. That spells sorry.” A sniff, and at last she forced her eyes to match his own. They were silver, almost, and Elina thought that they were beautiful. “Please sit down. I’m not going to do anything.”
Feeble legs shook in a mix of fury and fear, his body on the verge of collapsing once more. Today defeat was inevitable though the longer he put it off, the happier he could be about refusing to accept his fate. His mom always told him that he did not belong to anyone, and that he should answer to no one but himself. As long as he could be happy with the results then he was doing something right. But that doctrine had long since abandoned him, confusion blinding him and guilt drowning him.
Blood was on his hands and he would give everything for a second chance. Although he truly did not know the sheer depth of his past, he could remember the strong fire that once burned within his soul. It was bright and passionate, willing to do whatever was needed to make others happy—to make himself happy. Now he was cold, personality reflecting in his nonstop need to feel some type of warmth.
This girl – Elina – was something he had never experienced before. She was a free running stream of sentiments, her tattered heart worn on her sleeve. She was easy to read and enigmatic all at the same time, and he absolutely feared the storm waiting to be unleashed. Imagining the ferocity of her strength, wondering what she did to become a victor—it was so simple to imagine but the truth eluded him. Elius knew nothing about her except that she was fractured…just like he was.
With a lethargic pull, he took in the air surrounding him, inhaling it fully to feel the clarity. Tranquility tried filling him for a brief moment before the release came, and all at once he was floating. Untethered from his collective phobias, for the first time in years Elius was experiencing bliss. It was otherworldly and inexplicable.
It ended too soon.
He’d now moved to be a few yards away from the girl, remorse brimming in his eyes. How could he make this better when all he knew was to push people away? After twenty-six years of practice, breaking tradition was nearly obscene but his heart felt as though it were on the verge of breaking. Bearing the fault now…it was unbearable. Why did he now feel so different?
Hand partially extended, he slowly sat as he was told. Obeying Elina’s or anyone else’s wishes was not in his nature, but it was something that he wanted to do. He stared at her, his icy eyes studying her wounded expression, looking for any chance to understand. “I—I should be the one that’s sorry. I…I…” Elius swallowed hard, his hand reeling back to his side as his fists clenched. “I’m afraid, you know? There are so many killers here and I don’t know who I can trust. I don’t even know…” he murmured, mind clamoring for the words. “I don’t even know if you’re real or if you’re just a part of this nightmare.”
Admitting it took strength Elius never thought he had. It was the first time he’d told anyone about his doubts and fears. And figuring that she’d be his downfall one way or another, it was easier telling these things. “But I am deeply sorry that I don’t understand you. I at least know that you're not stupid, because you were smart enough to help me see the sense of reality, if only for a little bit. So I understand if you want to kill me now. It’s only right for what I’ve done.”
