lets go together | Ozaias & Dorothy

Behind a curtain resides the angry little boy he's always been. Ruby red anger behind the cheeks where poppies smell so dangerously sweet that he'll die from this feeling. Failure and guilt burn beneath his tongue, echoes of grief hidden behind his eyes as he breaths in carefully. Hands reaching behind him to keep himself standing against the leather chair he's leaned up again. The whites of his knuckles giving away the anger, the frustration, and the sorrow behind his words. Days spent watching his sister come and go from their chaotic home, only to see her run away once more. Run as far as she can go to a strange land where monsters are born and people die. Dorothy, whether she lived or died, would not be the same sister he would remember her as.

The feeling burns in his chest as he grips tighter to the chair, listening to his sister's words. "It is too late now Oz, there is nothing anyone in District Eight can do. Aunt Birdie can’t do anything, it is all down to me now." Too late. He's always been too late for everyone. Birdie can't save him anymore. Eight's already lost enough Hopes. Dorothy will just be another endless body in their sea of death. It's angry, this feeling inside of him. None of the dead have effected him before. So why now? Why should he care now? Except, he will. Dorothy is his baby sister. And while he's not a great person, he's always made sure to be a decent brother. A battle of her own choosing is what she choose and he shouldn't yell or get upset with her. There's almost a brokenness to him as he pulls the curtain away that's always hiding him. It's a desperate moment of looking at his sister, taking in her features and holding back tears.

If she's to die, he wants to remember her as she was. Strong. Confident. Stubborn. A look into the face of a girl who picked her poison, her fight, and her war. Pulling the curtain back into place, he listens still. "It is done, I am escaping all of this and that is what I have set out to do. It is time for you to say goodbye and if the worst for you does happen. Just make sure the funeral is not a repeat of all the others." Goodbye isn't right. Goodbye is accepting death. Grimacing at the mention of the funerals, he burns the thought into his skull, lets them fester with a brilliance akin to an emerald. His words seem to spill with his curtain back in place, no tears, no sorrow, just a determination that he builds up with all his heart.

Right now, it's not about him.

It's about Dorothy.

And he's not giving up.

"Fuck. Yeah. Yeah. I know." Grinding his teeth, his chest burns with the acceptance of what's to come. Angry and filled with frustration, he musters it all away into his tiny little heart of his. "Nothing is going to be able to stop you now. You've picked your fate. I just... Fuck." Wiping at his eyes, Oz leans forward a bit more, eyes blinking away as he stares carefully with an unreadable look to most, but to Dorothy, it's his hidden way of telling her he cares. Even if she didn't know, he still does it for himself. "I'm not going to fucking say goodbye." Glaring forward, he crosses his arms, swirling his tongue against his cheek for a moment in thought. "You hear me? You aren't going to fucking go there and be a repeat. Not my fucking sister." Balling his hands up, letting the white knuckles sink in, he continues. "You are more than whatever the Hope Family fucking is. You're Dorothy. You do whatever you fucking have to. Kill someone. Be someone else. Betray people. You do whatever you fucking have to, to get back here so we can find a new home."

Biting down his words, he leans back now against the chair. Eyes filled with a dark feeling that's bubbling up in his throat.

"Do everything in your power to get home. I'll handle everything else here."

It's a bitter feeling.

"Just don't fucking die. So, I'll see ya later, Sis."