remembrance] periwesjr

What had been the price of celebrity status? A few bits of blood on the end of the glaive. The rest of the tributes had done the rest of the work after all. Was he not just the scapegoat for the rest of them? The ones that weren't lucky enough to live past the long night-filled days that Peri combed the arena. Now the streets were full of recognition, every single place that he happened to grace with his presence was actually a visit, no longer just a walk. There was a certain image that had been cast on him, a large shadow along the side a skyscraper, reaching unimaginable heights and yet still darkened by perception. What made them even think that he was the man they believed him to be?

No killer deserved cheer and praise, yet that's all he ever experienced. Peridot Myler, shop owner, training score eleven, the first male district one winner in over ten years, three kills, defeated the numerous horrors (Scylla, Cerberus, Wes), brought a tribute home within two Games. So many labels were attached on to his name at this point, they were endless. A beast lay eternally within the abdomen of the victor, the fiery ghost of all sins that had been committed over the past few years. Media stalked him whenever he was in the Capitol, flash, flash; the headlines would repeat it the next day, 'Victor Says This Year Has The Best Ones Yet!" A picture of a scared mentor cowering as he left the building, trying to wander, find someplace to himself - yet attacked by a whole new life.

This was the way life was these days. Media attention, being constantly watched. Never ever leaving the arena. The arena lived within each victor that he met, one could see it upon meeting them. Mace's cold exterior, Julian's accelerated timing, Topaz searching for love. Peridot Myler lived within story books. His intestines were the river styx, twisting and coiled, dirty and flushed, full of spirits and the products of remorse. Eyes like statues, stunned looking upon the endless array of deaths that were witnessed before his own eyes, he could no longer say who he saw slaughtered, who he participated in killing. Tartarus where lay his heart, deep within a cave lie the heart of Peri. Whether or not it would ever be retrieved - he didn't know.

Had it only been a couple of years ago that Peri refused to drink alcohol, knocking it out of Dia's hand? Refused to smoke outside on the corners with a few low-life careers that thought that thought he was just a loser who they could string along. Refusal lived in the past. Peri had found himself now at the bottom of many champagne flutes in the Capitol, grown particularly fond of vodka, knew the names of a bartender or two. Lost his virginity at the end of a long night of boozing, and still sees that person on a semi-regular basis. Took a weed brownie with Lethe from District Five and plans on doing it again within the next couple of months. There had been such an utter change of character within him, everything changed so quickly all because of the Games.

Despite all the labels, you're still just a Little Boy, always have been, always will be. Remember that Peridot Myler.

The ground below him was frozen, the winter had begun to grasp on the lower district, but that was common among every place. Though district one wasn't so open in comparison, trees surrounded him, lots of them among the factory setting. It was the dull buildings that threw Peri off the most. What a common place to live in, so boring and lame, no wonder Wes wanted to get out of here. He thought he was a God among men, thought he was perfect, well anyone from a place like this might think they're more than worthy - it was what hell might look like. An endless array of simplicity and conformity. He'd seen it all, for sure. Perhaps not on such a spiritual level though, last time he was trying to make sure he didn't get his head chopped off. This time it was Opal in danger, not her mentor.

District Nine was home to his once brother, this was now a place of mourning, not a place of trying to survive. Whatever they did here was no longer the business of Peri, he was merely a distraction from the common day. With the last scoop of dirt, he covered the opal below him, ensuring no one would ever find it laying there. Upon the uttering of his last solemn words, fuck you Wes, fuck you - he shuddered. He shuddered and shook, he jumped as a voice behind him howled. "Fuck you too."

"W-W-Wes?" The word stammers out of his mouth before he can bite his tongue. Here he was in a graveyard, chasing memories of a hell that had brushed over him two years ago. There were many things Peri believed in, but ghosts weren't one. Tombstones didn't talk, and even the grave being disturbed slightly wasn't enough to wake the dead. Body shaking, he glared around, there was someone out there. Yet, he couldn't stop the shivering. Death gripped once again with his skeletal hands, cold and unyielding, it had been a while since he had felt the strong grasp of the dark man. He has here among the stones, he was in district nine, he was a man among the dead, here to take him away again. Remember Little Boy, you can only live for so long - he'll take you home eventually. Among the stars. "Oh." The boy stands directly behind me, cold and on the smaller side.

"Who are you?" Blushing starts immediately, a redness to the face. It was embarrassing to stand there and know someone listened to his pleas. Without a care in the world it seemed, the kid was standing tall, dark eyes, a harshness to his face - Peri had once been so mean and crude. There was plenty of time to be awful, but the world was better off without it. The air to the kid was very familiar, like Wes. It was impossible for any sort of reincarnation, it was unlikely that Wes stood in front of him, and yet - the kid was there, the same look as Wes. Much smaller, of course. Did Wes have a brother? Peri didn't even know - what kind of friend was that? Was Wes ever truly his friend, or just an acquaintance? Peri knew nothing of his family, or his home life. Just merely that he lived here. "I - uh, I'm Peri, sure you've heard of me, or something. Won the Games once. Couple years ago, yeh."

What qualified a friendship? Perhaps he had never had a friend at all. Just a series of lessons in life.