* Small scars on his arms, healing/fading scratches.
* Bruises and cuts along his arms, torso, back and legs from the landslide, which are slowly healing. Some are deeper than others.
* A few new cuts, on his torso, and upper arms, from him killing Vega Windham. Some of them started showing purple and red around the wounds, a sign for infection.
* One deep gash on his left arm, several cuts on his right wrist, a deep cut on his right thigh, a lung punctured.
1. The sea washed up to his ankles, the foam wrapping around the young boy’s toes. It was the first time his mother allowed him to venture alone to the shore, and happiness flowed in his heart, pure joy to see how the sun reflected on the waves, how the air smelled like salt, small rocks on the beach varying colours, covering a myriad of shades that happened to harmonize together in a flawless way. Ecthelion wanted to run, to dive, to swim with the dolphins, but it was one step at a time. A small giggle escaped his mouth at how warm the sea was, how pleasing the sand was underneath his feet.
2. There was a boy whose freckles covered his skin like an uncovered night sky with stars shining bright. His smile always illuminated the room, making Ecthelion want to reach out at him, to know more about the boy. Hardly could he have known it would stem a friendship that would last until the end, against all odds. The dark skinned boy had shared a shy smile, an attempt to a joke, and from there, it had sparked.
3. He grew up, learning in school about the same subjects every other child in any district read about. The only difference was that his classes were cut by rather intense training sessions, in which he only half-heartedly participated. Many times, he simply left to go on the pier or on the shore, the freckled boy walking by his side. Years went by, and after some time, Ecthelion no longer had someone who brought light upon his days, who accompanied him when he needed an escape. There was nothing left but the need to train.
4. Flowers were installed in several arrangement, filling the room with their fragrances. There happened to be plants as well, some of them having an appearance that was stranger than the other. Ecthelion enjoyed spending afternoons and evenings in the safe haven where his mother worked. He helped her in her tasks whenever school was off. It was pleasing to be there for her, to know he did something good in life, that he provided help, no matter how small his contribution was. If it was worth the smile he got from his mom, the kind that illuminated a room. then so be it.
5. Saline air no longer comforted him, regardless of how many days he spent looking at the waves crashing on the shore, bringing remnants of the beach inside the water, carrying it to the bottom of the sea, clutching the detritus like spoils of war. Ecthelion found the sight of the ocean poetic, in a much darker way than he previously did. There were thoughts that ought not to be shared with anyone, especially people who cared about you. Deception might wash over them, alongside worry, an emotion the young man vowed not to let anyone feel about him. As it was, worrying only ever brought the worst pain, and could easily be avoided by telling a few merciful lies.
6. The tears staining his mother’s cheeks spoke legions, telling Ecthelion she already believed she lost her son, her lips nonetheless being graced by a smile. He knew she saw him as her own anchor, the only person she truly cared about, ever since her own husband had gone astray, lost to her eyes, never there. Pursing his lips, Ecthelion knew whatever words he’d say wouldn’t make her any less proud, nor less in pain. He only needed her to let go, to know he would be all right.
7. He stopped in his steps as his eyes landed on someone whose skin was a constellation, a smile so gentle it made his heart ache. Ecthelion felt as if he’d seen a ghost, but he never could’ve thought of the redhead as an ethereal being. The tribute was much too alive for receiving such a description. Still, the volunteer wanted to know more about him, to see if the other boy could ease some of his pain, something he would never say out loud. Nevertheless, Ecthelion found way more than comfort in the boy he’d met first in the train. He had found a friend, someone to whom he’d confided, a boy who brought colour in a world filled with dull tones.
8. The hazel hues of the taller boy, sometimes withholding a menacing look in them, sometimes wrapped with soft sadness, had pierced Ecthelion’s walls, him suddenly all the more aware of how much wrongs he had done in his life, how his very existence needed to be questioned. His curiosity was piqued sooner rather than later, and the desire to redeem himself weld up inside him. There were many actions he could attempt, and though he couldn’t have guessed it after their first encounter, it would pay off, another tribute who got under Ecthelion’s thick skin, the living proof of how he had an elastic heart, ready to carry friendship in it, disregarding any consequence that could come.
9. A night in the tribute centre had been spent comforting a girl who seemed to have lost everything, who was forced to deal with how little her surviving odds were. Each word Ecthelion uttered that night were truly meant. Maybe he couldn’t mend her heart, but it remained that he could make everything he could during the games, to help her survive. It was too soon to make a promise that hard to keep, one that overlooked the way the arena could pay tricks on one’s mind. Ultimately, he would fail, and the guilt pressed against his stomach, his heart, his head.
10. An explosion shook the ground underneath the platform he stood on. The voice counting down to zero became a white noise to Ecthelion’s ears, a louder buzz prompting him to find his allies among the circle of tributes. One platform was empty already, ashes fuming around the plate. The young man felt the air leave his lungs as he realized who had died, and how weak he was from the loss of someone he cared about. He never should’ve allowed himself to open his heart to the fallen tribute, for the very selfish reason that he wanted to leave with him, though now was not the time. People counted on him as an ally, and he had to run, run, run...
The bloodbath had let him and the people he’d chose for allies live, find a shelter for a few days. The number of tributes dwindled down every other day or night, something Ecthelion helped in, as he reduced the number of survivors without even thinking twice. As time went by, the casualties brought by his hand came back to the surface of his mind, shadows cast before his eyes, making it impossible to ignore the pain in his head.
Throughout the games, Ecthelion had been treated fairly well, receiving sponsor gifts from time to time, helping him in his ever going task. Survival came at a high cost, it seemed. It didn’t matter what material you obtained in the end, when everyone, everything you cared about was gone, either buried, alienating you or your mind sheltering you from them. Ophelia dying had been the final straw, making him break harder than ever before. When one lost too many pieces of the puzzle, it was impossible to go on, to fix the mess that had been created.
Before to leave their camp, the day prior Ophelia’s death, Ecthelion had kissed Pluto, a decision that had left his mind in shambles, him hardly being able to know what had prompted him to do it. After it was done, the volunteer needed time to himself, time to think about what decisions he had made in the arena, and if he had the possibility to afford letting his heart fly on its own. It hadn’t been long however, before he lost himself in the woods, only to meet another tribute, on whom he brought death, and to encounter Eli, with whom he’d discussed strategy, before to separate from her, eager to go back to his allies.
It had been too little, too late, as by the time he’d finally reached the edge of the forest near the Cornucopia, his sight was filled with Ophelia falling to the ground, Pluto holding close to her. Eli was already escaping, probably running until she found cover elsewhere, in direction of the river this time. Ecthelion’s heart pumped in his chest as he raced towards Pluto, his eyes burning with sadness and guilt. He had failed Ophelia, as he found himself having abandoned someone who he knew he needed, who helped him go through every day. Halfway there, the cannon went off, Ecthelion shivering and slowing down in reaction, before to stop in his tracks, dropping to his knees, tears falling from the corner of his eyes, droplets splattering on the ground. Both his arms laid by his sides, helplessness the only emotion he experienced. It was over, he knew it now, for Ophelia, and for him too.
Ecthelion’s feet led him in an unknown direction. The light of the sun slowly embraced the arena, its soft rays surrounding everything, light filtering through the cover of the trees. Still, the young man found no comfort in the way it brought warmth to his skin, his arms and legs covered by goosebumps from the previous night. He had tried to stop to rest, only ending in lying on the ground, abruptly awakened by the booming voice of the commentator announcing how the next morning, at dawn, there would be a Feast.
With resolution, Ecthelion knew such an event wasn’t for him. He had what he needed, nothing could be handed to him that would change his stance. Such happenings often resulted in disaster, people fighting for a piece of material that added to the one they could get. There were no longer any safety nets, nothing that kept him sane, nothing that made him want to keep going. His first goal had been to find and annihilate the person who had killed his best friend, a feat he’d managed to do in the first instants of the games. The slaughter hadn’t quite been done by his hand, though it was him who was held accountable for Syrena’s death, his own district partner.
No place remained for him, as he had brought the wrath of Pluto upon himself, the guilt produced by his own disgrace enough to make Ecthelion know he needed to leave, that there was no way he could stop until he found a place where he could build a shelter. From all the equipment he’d gotten from sponsors, he only had kept a sleeping bag, the two other objects he still carried being the trident he’d found on the first day he’d spent in the arena, and a small knife Eli had handed him.
The second weapon was useful for many things, a handy instrument in hunting animals, if he felt the need to get food somewhere. His stomach nonetheless felt as if rocks had replaced it, the weigh of his days in the arena dragging him down, slowing him as if he had a boulder tied to his ankle, something he couldn’t get rid off, or at least didn’t possess the means to. Nothing good remained, nothing that prompted the desire to go on. Finally, he had stopped himself in a clearing where the light of the sun filtered through the leaves of the trees, a place that seemed as perfect as any to build camp.
Throughout his classes, Ecthelion had learned how hard it was to use a weapon against oneself, seeing how human reflexes made you fight against harming yourself. Sighing, the young man took out his knife, gaze falling upon the blade that reflected the sun, a faint shimmer, actually pleasing to his eyes. Many times since the games had started, the volunteer had gone down the path of inflicting himself pain, one of the only ways he could now feel alive. Such contradictory thoughts, given how it slowly killed him instead.
Fiddling with the blade absent-mindedly, Ecthelion turned the knife in his hold, wondering what use he could make of a weapon this small. Frowning, he realized how the voice in his mind that kept getting louder, inciting him to commit actions that were more and more violent. There wasn’t a lot of ways to silence the words that often came to him, more often now that he was alone. Ecthelion needed to do something, to ease the pain in his heart, the ache of his mind.
Clutching the knife handle hard, Ecthelion focussed on the thin skin of his wrists, pushing the blade deep in his veins and arteries, rupturing the circuit of blood that moved under the flesh, letting the crimson fluid run out with the pulses of his heart. It didn’t go as fast as he wanted, prompting the young man to run the knife up his other arm, from the wrist to the elbow, savouring the pang of pain coming from the cut, blood oozing from the wound at a satisfying flow, making his heart already feel lighter. Greed didn’t spare him as he felt the need to inflict himself more pain. One cut for every person he killed.
His hold was becoming less and less firm on the weapon, meaning he had to act fast. Steadying his breathing, pain clouding his vision, starting at the edges, blurring his sight. With more force than he needed, Ecthelion dug the rust coloured blade into his left thigh, messing with the veins that coursed down his limb, butchering the skin as much as he possibly could with his mind lighter than before.
One more blow, one more...
With strength he didn’t know he still possessed, Ecthelion lifted the blade to his chest, the weapon shaking in his hold, as it wasn’t supported as well as before. Nonetheless, after a sharp intake of breath, he pushed the knife through his heart or at least the spot he felt it beat underneath his fingers. Crimson was tinting his clothes, his next hit only making his heart flutter awkwardly, forcing Ecthelion to lie down as his blow had reached one of his lungs instead of his goals. What was sure was that it didn’t slow his death down.
It takes ten times longer to put yourself back together, as it does to fall apart, he thought. A smile stretched Ecthelion’s lips as he knew now for sure that he didn’t have to worry about mending his ripped heart, to let his mind heal. His breaths slowed down, blood pooling all around him, starting from his wrists up his arms. The way his chest raised and lowered diminished, until it reached a halt. A cannon went off, though unheard by Ecthelion, whose life had finally seeped through his fingers, his soul leaving to higher skies, where he could meet with all the people who had left him behind, and watch over the ones who still breathed in rhythm with their pounding hearts.
* Small scars on his arms, healing/fading scratches.
* Bruises and cuts along his arms, torso, back and legs from the landslide, which are slowly healing. Some are deeper than others.
* A few new cuts, on his torso, and upper arms, from him killing Vega Windham. Some of them started showing purple and red around the wounds, a sign for infection.
My mind is playing tricks on me, I no longer know what to do or to say. The darkness of my soul wraps its tendrils around my heart. I’m suffocating, and I can feel the end coming. I’m closer to winning than ever before, I won’t give up, I can’t.
Pluto huffed in anger, flattening his hands against Ecthelion’s chest and pushing him away with a rough shove as the boy tried to apologized.
No amount of ‘I’m sorry’s’ was going to bring Ophelia back.
“Your needs don’t matter!” Pluto spat, hardened eyes boring down through Lion’s own. “No one’s does! It’s the needs of the group– that’s how it’s supposed to be. And we needed you! We needed you, and you weren’t there!”
Shaking his head as if it would clear him of these dark thoughts, Pluto looked to the grass of the Cornucopia– now stained red with the blood of another innocent. “Ophelia’s dead. We failed her, the both of us. We failed her, and you…” He trailed off, voice trembling as he returned his gaze to Ecthelion.
“Did you even try?”
Pluto almost wanted to take a swing at the other– just about as much as he wanted to take a swing at himself. The only thing stopping him being Ophelia’s earlier words. She loved him, just as she loved Pluto. He wouldn’t– couldn’t hurt someone that important to her.
“No, I don’t think you should have.” He finished resolutely, defeat falling clearly over his being as he turned his back on Ecthelion.
“Save the apologies for her family. See if they give a damn.”
The shove made the young man stumble backward, feet digging through the ground to find a point to hold on, so he didn’t fall over. His body felt stiff, cold burning his bones, mouth becoming dry as he kept listening to Pluto, his plea reaching Ecthelion’s heart, words clutching at his vital organ, planting daggers with each of his breaths.
Did he even t r y...?
There was no way he could know for sure, or at least not for the last day or so. Truth being said, Ecthelion had cared about Pluto first, then Ophelia, which he was coming to realize, should’ve been the opposite. From the start, he had wanted to save the girl, but now... now, he had left and there was no going back.
Pursing his lips together, he inhaled sharply, fluttering his eyes shut, allowing memories to surface his mind, once again. Ecthelion didn’t see Pluto increasing the distance between them, but felt utterly alone, a first ever since he’d set foot into the games. Sighing again, he turned his gaze towards his hands, stiil harbouring the scars and cuts that came with killing someone.
“Count on that. It... It was good knowing you, Pluto, nonetheless.”
The words felt empty, but there was no stopping now. Before to hear a reaction, or receive another shove, Lion had started walking off. The young man hadn’t even mentioned anything else in reaction to Ophelia’s passing. It was no use, as his thoughts couldn’t be conveyed in words. There was so much going on in his mind, Ecthelion faced the impossibility to stop and think, unless he wanted to drown inside his head.
Of course they had needed him, but what good was he? Was he any good at all? He had tried from the start, though at the last moment, he had felt overwhelmed. Now he felt guilt wash him over, an evident occurrence.
“I’m sure they won’t even think about giving a damn, and I don’t give one about myself. I’m sorry, Pluto, I really am. I hope you live, and win.”
Tightening his hold on his bag, Lion ventured towards the trees, not even daring to look back on what he’d left behind. There was no place for him there, he’d wasted every chance he had, to the profit of him being forced on his own. Nothing good lasted, he should’ve expected as such.
Blinded by his emotions, Pluto– at first– went unaware of Lion’s sudden appearance. Instead he fell breathlessly into the tree, his knuckles that had been scraped raw curving around the bark. It wasn’t until he heard the voice of the other boy that his crying finally stopped, body going still.
Lion. Wasn’t he supposed to be protecting her, too? Sure, Pluto had broken away for just a moment, but where had he been? Where was he when Ophelia had needed protection?
Removing himself from the tree, Pluto strode over to the other boy, vision blurred by tears of fury, sorrow, and nearly every other emotion he had come to know.
“Where were you, then?” He demanded, hands shooting out to curl his fists in Lion’s shirt and haul him close– emotion bleeding through his every move.
“We had a pact, Ecthelion! You remember that? So where the hell were you? Where the hell were you when she needed you??”
Every word was a blow, all too fitting a result of his actions. There was no denying of how at fault he was, how true they resonated in him. Pluto walked over to him, and then hauled him closer to him, spitting words to Ecthelion, sayings he deserved more than anything.
His mind had been playing him tricks, and he was paying the price for his own cowardice. When had he started distancing himself from others, thinking it was better to care about his own needs than what people needed.
There was no excuse, nothing Ecthelion could say that justified his absence. The sobs rattling his body grew more intense, tears no longer falling, leaving his cheeks stiff. Gritting his teeth, he readied himself for another blow, no matter the way it came.
“I-”
The words died down in his throat before he could even try to share them. Each of his breaths came with a whistling sound, proof of how hard Ecthelion found it to breathe. Sorrow, self-hatred and sadness were tangled in his mind and heart, making it hard to decipher what he could say next.
“I do- I do remember! I’m sorry! I needed to walk away, you know how I am. I’m stupid. This was stupid, she didn’t deserve this. I- I don’t think I should stay. Or should’ve come back.”
Pluto stood and watched, silent tears rolling down his face, as Ophelia was taken away by a hovercraft from the Capitol. Back to her home. Back to the family, who would grieve the loss of yet another child’s life.
The thought infuriated Pluto, his own grief fueling a long burning fire inside. It wasn’t fair. It was never fair.
Bloodied hands coming up to grip the ends of his hair, Pluto screamed aloud to the empty cornucopia– turning to slam his fist into the nearest tree. Compared to the hurt Ophelia left in her wake, physical pain was nothing. Physical pain was welcomed.
Fists flying repeatedly into the tree, Pluto tried to choke back his tears, screaming once again to no one.
The screams he heard from Pluto almost made Ecthelion jump out of his skin, the volunteer’s senses coming back to him. The tears still ran down his cheeks, burning as they dripped down his face. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand up, to walk towards the raven haired boy.
His feet could no longer carry him at a steady rhythm, limbs feeling as if they were filled with lead, making the task of moving forward all the harder.
Numbness seeped inside his mind, as he couldn’t yet see her body, though knowing it would be the biggest blow to his heart, ruining all the efforts he’d done so far, all the help he’d provided to bring Ophelia this far.
He hadn’t even been able to share a last goodbye, to tell the fallen tribute how much she’d mattered to him. His breathing became heavier as he approached Pluto, sobs making his shoulders shake. He had no right to be there anymore, yet he’d came back. Inhaling sharply, his intake of air shook by the tears he cried, he tried speaking up, the words he let out a mere whisper, almost inaudible.
Pluto shook his head at the suggestion, the weakest smile crossing his lips.
“I always stand by my word, Lion.”
And he truly did. You’d be hard pressed to find a time Pluto Blackwell ever said anything he didn’t mean or wouldn’t follow through on. Even though he wasn’t the most certain of his own feelings, he was always an honest boy, and his actions followed suit.
Lion’s words caught Pluto slightly off guard, his brows pulling together in confusion. He had already felt as if he were imposing on the other, taking nothing but his help since he got here. What else was there to offer in the Capitol’s personal Hell?
Opening his mouth to question the boy, Pluto went mute as Lion’s hand pressed gently to his cheek. His breathing seemed to stutter to a stop, and he watched with eyes torn between emotions he couldn’t comprehend. The last time anyone had shown him similar affection was a mystery to even him, and the feelings it ignited… he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to take off in a sprint or stay still and allow them to lay siege on his mind.
Fortunately, he wasn’t in any position to go on the run. The decision was already made.
Hesitantly and ever so slowly, Pluto pushed himself up onto his elbows to meet Lion halfway. It was ultimately the boy from District 4 that closed the last bit of space between them, but for once, Pluto didn’t pull away. Instead he closed a hand gently over the one on his cheek, timidly returning the kiss as his dark eyes drifted close.
He wasn’t sure what the kiss meant, but just this once– he wasn’t going to think about it. He was going to act on instinct, and hope it didn’t come back to bite him in.
After so much Hell, surely he deserved a moment to himself. He’d been living for Vesta for so long, wasn’t it fair he took just one second for himself?
The response he obtained made sense, coming from Pluto. He couldn’t have expected anything else in that situation, the will to help others being one of the most important things for the tallest among the group. He was inherently good, and Ecthelion felt pained he hadn’t realized so earlier. The cluster of thoughts in his own mind kept him from helping people in the way he wanted, resulting in the boy often feeling overwhelmed, needing a breather. His current observations were cut short by the thought that this was yet another thing that could be taken away from him.
“I know, I’ve gathered that much.”
He had let the words fly out, a mere whisper in the silence that had followed the landslide. A smile of his own echoed the one he’d seen on Pluto’s lips, the proximity between them making his heart flutter in reaction. Nothing in the games had gone to plan, there was nothing that Ecthelion had suspected to happen. The events had followed one another, taking the very best of what he had to offer. The young man hadn’t taken the time to assess of what he could do, of what good was left in him. With his hand on Pluto’s cheek, it appeared as if maybe, just maybe, he had something going for him. Everything in him screamed that he didn’t afford to find comfort in someone, yet he simply shrugged it off, preferring to live in the present, to not be affected by what would happen next.
The kiss began timidly, something Ecthelion didn’t truly mind. The feel of the other boy’s lips against his was soft, appeasing some of the inner turmoil he experienced constantly. Slowly, nonetheless, he deepened it, fluttering his eyes shut, aware of how the lip lock was no longer for gratitude, more about Ecthelion allowing himself to give in, to be at peace for at least once during the games.
His mind didn’t let him forget how he needed to keep a hold on the garment pressed on Pluto’s side, although he was certain that by now the blood would have slowed down. Incidentally, refusing to stop the kiss just yet, he held on more tightly upon the already heavier shirt, his other hand leaving the other’s cheek. Softly, as much as he was able, Ecthelion moved his now free hand to the back of the taller’s neck, his fingers curling themselves into the raven locks, appreciating them.
Truth be told, the volunteer didn’t want to break the embrace just yet, the desire to keep savouring what he could’ve had if he hadn’t forced himself to participate in the games louder than ever.
She knew they didn’t like each other. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Though at this moment, she didn’t say anything–her face said it all. She tugged her dry bottom lip between her teeth, already feeling the iron seep though, tasting it on her tongue.
She felt the fear seeping through her bones.
She didn’t like him. At all. Even before the night on the roof. She just got a feeling. Besides, he treated her like the scum of the earth because of their district difference. She didn’t understand it.
She took a look over him, seeing his tall frame. He easily towered over her, and she was getting closer and closer to running for her life. At his words, she nodded softly, biting her lip even harder, ignoring the blood that seeped into her mouth. Another step back, and then another.
“Exactly. Intended to make us die. Obviously. You seem to understand that.”
The fear that flowed off Vega’s body, in a surprisingly impressive amount washed over Ecthelion, feeding his need for action. The previous moments he had shared with Pluto, the tribute he slowly considered as less of an ally, more of a friend were escaping his mind, and he couldn’t even grasp at them. What mattered was the smaller tribute he was with, how her fate could easily be tied by his hand.
The tribute from the fifth district kept taking steps backward, distancing herself from Ecthelion, an effort that was oh so futile. Her words were intertwined with scorn, a tone of pure hatred directed at him. It was as if she accused him of being daft, due to his career upbringing. It brought nothing but dislike for the girl inside Ecthelion’s mind. The young man could almost feel the victory he’d have over her. All too easy a task.
Finally, tired of playing cats and mice, he closed the distance between the both of them, a grin stretching his lips as the volunteer realized just how much he loomed over the girl. He did understand the premise of the games, though he didn’t even try to make an effort to conceal how annoyed he was with the other’s lungs still pumping air. The best was to bring an end to it, and fast, at that.
“There’s still 6 of us to die. Maybe you’ll be lucky and don’t suffer through the feast. I could lend a hand for you there.”
Innocence, as sweet and pure as it is, wasn’t commonplace in the arena. It was a bloodbath, and no one– almost no one– could avoid getting their hands dirty. For whatever reason or supposed justification, they killed. The only one Pluto could put his faith in to be innocent, was Ophelia. So… why did it matter so much to him that Lion stay alive, for at least a little longer?
Was it because he felt responsible for the boy, or was it because he was starting to break from his plan. Pluto was growing attached to people, who fell no where in his plans. Eliminate the assassins and protect the innocent. Never had he stopped to think about what he was supposed to do with the people who fell somewhere in between.
“Fine then.” Pluto relented, eyes lifting resolutely to Lion’s. “Then just the people I like.”
He wasn’t sure of how his words would be received, but at this point Pluto didn’t really care. His clock was running down. There was no point in hiding anything any longer. It was best to be outright, while he had the chance. Either that or as outright as someone like him could be, at least.
Feelings and thoughts… they came to Pluto one after the other, nearly over-riding him at certain points. That didn’t mean he had an easy time figuring out what they were or what they meant. Why not just act on them, and figure out the rest later?
If he had time.
Sighing softly at the unusually gentle touch, Pluto relaxed back into the ground. His breathing slowed the more the tension in his mind slipped away, silently watching Lion as the other boy sat with his eyes closed.
“There’s not a lot someone like me deserves,” He argued, voice light and almost playful– contradicting the gloom in his eyes. “but I’ll be glad to take what you want to give me, while I’m here.”
Despite everything that had happened in the arena so far, every moment Ecthelion spent alongside his allies, he felt more like himself, more like the boy who had lived on the shore of the sea, seeing the sun rise every morning. They were an odd piece of home, one he found in a place that estranged him, that made him feel as a pawn of the Capitol each day that went by.
Sometimes, he wasn’t even aware of the change that occurred in his mind, how he grew to be everything he loathed. It didn’t help that every time he faced the choice to kill or not someone, he always picked the first option. All of it for making his allies go by every day. It felt important to Ecthelion that both Ophelia and Pluto saw the light of the next morning, no matter the consequences he obtained.
Now here he was, treating a wound, the fleeting shadow of a smile growing on his lips in reaction of what Pluto had told him. The proximity didn’t bother him now as much as it had maybe... a week ago? The young man had lost track of the days, knowing that the numbers of tributes was dwindling down, almost to a rate of one per day now.
The gaze he got from the taller tribute shook him to the core. Not a lot of people had looked at him in such a resolute manner.
“Just the people he likes...”
So far, the only saying about people like himself he had gotten out of Pluto was the utter hatred for tributes that came from career districts. The volunteer never thought he stood a chance at making the tables turn to his profit, though as it appeared now, they had. Perhaps he read it all wrong, but Ecthelion had a deep feeling in his gut that he was included in those people.
“That sounded more thoughtful, you should hold on to those words.”
The next thought he had was all the more surprising, mostly given how it was accompanied by butterflies in his stomach. Ecthelion realized how glad he had been to hear the words from Pluto. It hardly mattered in the games, and almost never was it the time to display any means of affection, considering how it could be ripped away from your grasp at any moment. Still, he kept his hand pressed on Pluto’s arm, maintaining the other on the shirt against the wound. He needed not to lose his hardly acquired focus on his own benefit.
The sigh made his heart melt, a soft sound that was as rare an occurrence as it could happen in the arena. What mattered most was that it had been in reaction to his touch. The sentences that came afterwards were pronounced with a light tone which highly contrasted with the words uttered. Still, Ecthelion found them to echo in his heart and mind. He believed he deserved a lot less than Pluto, though not something he would share now.
“I- I don’t know for sure what I can give you except help. Though... there might be one thing, now that I think of it...”
His posture against the other was awkward, in a way, though he had to try, at least. He could compensate the fact that he sat by Pluto’s side by bringing his left hand to leave the other tribute’s arm to his cheek, turning his face so he faced him, then slowly, carefully, Ecthelion brought his lips against Pluto’s. It wasn’t as much as a love filled kiss rather than a mean to express his gratitude.
Considering what day it was, Vega didn’t look particularly horrible. Just weak. It wasn’t a good look, considering she was already weak to begin with. She had managed to remain unscathed from the forest, save for a few scrapes on her hand, and a skinned knee–she had tried to run and of course, slipped on the terrain during the mudslide.
At least she was alive.
For now.
She swallowed hard, looked at him, seeing the look in his eyes. She didn’t like it. It was clear he didn’t have good intentions. She shook her head, more as a a silent plea as she heard a response to her words. She nodded. “….I see.”
He looked healthy. A bit predatory, but healthy. She shifted weigh, taking another step back. Already her heart was heading into fight or flight mode. She could feel it speeding up, but needed to keep her composure.
She was just happy she had a weapon. It was a machete, and it was bigger than her whole head, but…she had something.
His words sent a chill through her. “….Yeah. I am. Good thinking.” Her throat was suddenly dry. “Well. I guess I’ll be on my way now.”
The volunteer left a chuckle escape his throat as the other tribute suggested she would leave him. In response to her statement, he shook his head, taking another step forward.
“Stay, I know you need company, and I’m as good as any.”
The lie glided across his tongue, bitterness barely even being tasted. Ecthelion knew he could easily cross the distance that separated the both of them in a few steps, and halt Vega’s possible attempt to escape. He puckered his lips, eyes fixed on the lithe tribute. She was the only thing on his mind for the time being, the rest becoming a mild buzzing in the back of his head.
Truth being said, she wasn’t in that bad a state, a given, considering how she was still alive and walking. There must be something with her that wasn’t right, a flaw he could dig through, and pull the worst out of her. Confidence and adrenaline soon came through Ecthelion’s arteries and veins, the tribute feeling suddenly like he could overcome anything. Vega was a mere obstacle in the path to success, a way that didn’t take into account the way he would leave the arena, in what mental state he could be.
“I wasn’t talking about you, don’t worry, some people died, and some are affected by what the game makers threw at us.”
His voice was devoid of warmth, contrasting with the choice of words he had done. It was odd to him how he mentioned what had happened to one of his allies, despite how vague the details were.
Pluto couldn’t help but hiss out in pain as he clamped both hands down over the wound. He was sure, with the proper resources, such a scar could be easily dealt with, but open wounds went a lot farther in the arena– especially when covered in mud. He was fortunate to have someone helping him.
Glancing up to Lion as the boy came to kneel beside him, Pluto reluctantly dropped his hand and allowed it to be covered with a cleaner shirt. Again he couldn’t help but give a small wince at the contact to the sensitive skin. It hurt, but it was do-able. It was the words that truly unsettled him.
“…you took him down.”
As justified as it was, Pluto couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking an ever thinning line. Where was the difference in the wrong side of Heaven and the righteous side of Hell? Was there a difference, at all? All Pluto knew was that he wanted to put an end to the kind of monsters that killed his sister. He never wanted to become a monster himself, in the process.
“I didn’t want anyone…anyone innocent to get hurt. Let’s leave it at that.” Pluto mumbled, unable to break gaze with Lion. He seemed so sincere and honest…. It felt good to have someone share his thoughts– even if it was silent.
Sometimes eyes could speak volumes on their own.
Distantly, he could remember a time when he withdrew from the other boy, unwilling to let too much of his guard down. Now here he was again being cared for by Lion, as vulnerable as he ever could be. It was a little unnerving, but also… kind of nice. Pluto always saw things in black and white, sure, but maybe there could be some gray area for Lion. Or hell, maybe he was just good. He hadn’t really done anything to prove otherwise, had he really?
“I do care about both of you,” Lion’s voice from the elevator echoed in his head, reminding Pluto of just how close the two had got before. Hell, they had even kissed once.
He nearly flushed at the thought, glancing down to where Lion’s hand rested on his side. “Thanks for… everything,” He mumbled, uncertain of exactly what it was he wanted to say.
The mud still wrapped around Ecthelion’s fingers itched at his skin, him deeply wishing they hadn’t been caught short by the landslide, as he found himself unable to help Pluto as much as he wanted to. He wished to be able to clean his hand, though doing as such would spoil their already limited amount of water. While pressing the shirt onto Pluto’s wound, he heard him rather than saw him hiss.
Deep inside, the volunteer wished nothing would bring an infection to his ally’s skin, altering the wound in an unstoppable way. It was the games, the clock kept ticking and if he could do everything in his power, then he would. There were nonetheless things that couldn’t be controlled. A life lesson he was about to learn, it seemed.
The more silence wrapped them both, the more Ecthelion allowed his thoughts to wander, the young man realizing how cruel the games had been on his and Pluto’s behalf. It remained a great weight on his shoulders how three teenagers, three fellow tributes had been killed by his hand. Now wasn’t the time to bring himself to care about the way felt, as he wasn’t the one bearing the most damage, yet.
The words coming from Pluto’s mouth were somewhat astounding, not something he couldn’t expect, though it was hard to believe in that circumstance. Nonetheless, the fact that it had been him with whom Pluto had shared it spoke louder than a lot of words they had exchanged in the past. Sighing in response, he then nodded, wondering if silent support was enough.
“None... None of us is innocent. The only one who is hasn’t been hurt yet. Or at least, not too badly.”
The volunteer wished he could know the right words that could make him feel better. Absentmindedly, he removed one of his hands from the shirt up to Pluto’s arm, an attempt to bring the comfort his sentences lacked. His eyes fluttered upward as he gazed upon his ally’s face, trying to decipher how his action could’ve been taken. Sometimes he was a little too brash, something he wished wasn’t the case now.
The pressure he rested upon Pluto’s wound was steady, his other hand barely put down onto his arm. A quiet hum left Ecthelion’s lips, the young man finally giving in and sitting on his knees. The new position was definitely more comfortable, making him more able to help his... could he call him friend? They were as close to the term as they ever had been. Rolling his tongue across his lips, he fluttered his eyes shut as Pluto spoke to him, his voice melodious in a way Ecthelion hadn’t taken the time to appreciate before now.
Without thinking, the volunteer started to rub his thumb on Pluto’s arm, a gesture more familiar than he had allowed in the arena or even in the Capitol. The moment could be stolen from them, thus why Lion didn’t have a care in him to stop the motion he was still doing.
“If anything, you deserve it. I- It could’ve been a lot worse, for you, Ophelia or me.”
Pursing his lips, he reopened his eyes, becoming more and more aware of how low his walls were now, and how much truth he had been sharing. As it was, it could actually be the last time he uttered that kind of thoughts.
Still kneeling over Vega’s lifeless body, Ecthelion’s breathing slowly slowing down from the adrenaline that had coursed through his veins, he caught the distinct noise from someone approaching him. Turning his head to the side, ignoring how sick he felt, he bit his lip before to speak up, disrupting the ever so eerie silence.
“Who’s there? I don’t have the patience for you not showing yourself, and making me look crazy for speaking to myself.”
