everytime a bell {rings} // [South]

My head bobs slightly at his greeting, a sheepish smile crossing my face for a moment. Kaelen is by no means an old man, or even a middle aged man, or even a man, really. He is a boy in most respects, though not in soul or in literary taste, it seems. He reminds me a great deal of his uncle, in his little movements and mannerisms. He's mature, refined, but by no means old.

"Kae, then... Right. Uh, sure," I mutter, crossing the room and setting down into the chair across from him. It is worn and blue, faded from use and time. The threads are starting to come undone along the arms, but the wear is a sign of cold nights spent bundled in it's shape, curled upon it's seat, wrapped up in something else and wasting away the hours. My eyes glance around the room quickly before fixing upon my fingers, picking at my nails senselessly. I am sitting in the house of a murderer, a convict on the run. I am sitting across from Kaelen Dempsey. Freely. Not bound and gagged and threatened, but of my own free will. Why? (Damn the day fate bore my mother twin boys.) I crack my knuckles nervously, only looking up at his words to stare at the set.

"Oh, uh... Yes. Yes, I like it. I don't, uh, get the chance to play much, so I'm... I'm out of practice but I'll uh... we'll see what I can make of you?"

It has been too long since I've played chess. I haven't had a quality game in ages. It's hard to even remember the last time I played. (And I mean played, not that sad attempt at teaching Ty which led to him toppling the board over and breaking it in half.) My last good game was two years ago, already. She'd been a valient opponent and I lost without a hope of ever winning. She had a cunning and wit that I couldn't beat. I wish I could play her again. I could have learned so much more, picked her style, gotten into her maneuvers, and taken her down myself. (Fitz Ripley got to take her down before I did, though. She check-mated his queen so he took her out without reservation. He left himself up to be taken as a result. Poor bastard.) Stark Harper was a lost talent to our District. What I wouldn't give to have her as a Victor...

My fingers fidget in my lap before I raise a hand resolutely and shove a pawn forward. And so it begins. Already, I'm seeing the distances in lines and carving out patterns in my head. One movement now could change everything later. I don't like to lose, not when it comes to strategy and logic. Those are my games. I'm caught off guard by his words, eyebrows raising in question as I look up at him. My eyes dart back down to his move, glaring at the piece carefully. I quickly counter by shoving another pawn out before choosing to answer him.

"There has to be a voice of reason. It's only logical. One miscalculation in their minds can cause a chain reaction that blows the entire campaign to pieces and then what would we have? Nothing," I reply cooly, sitting back in my chair and watching his moves with a quiet determination. I try to match him, but his patterns are fuzzy. He's unclear. It's deceiving and it bothers me that I can't see it clearly yet.

"Shutting them down is the only way to assure that we distribute the information they need correctly otherwise there's no point in even beginning this."

Chess had been a game when I was little, a fun thing to do by myself when Tyrannus was training harder than he should or sitting up in a tree by himself. I would sit inside instead, prodding at the pieces slowly with a calculated stab of my finger, sliding it deftly across the worn wooden set. It was a relaxing thing to do after a day of training, a day or learning, a day of being. Chess was the escape I could use, a fictional battlefield upon which strategies could be developed and refined for hours. Soon, though, it become more than just a game. My teachers began to test me with it, challenging me to difficult matches in order to figure out just how much I could comprehend and foresee. I lost myself to the checkered patterned battlefield of black and white armies until I was one of them. I could see things clearly and I could counter them quickly. I'm out of practice now though, struggling to see through Kae's defences and structures. (He is cunning beyond measure and I am awed.)

His words send a shock of pride running through my system, but the small smile on my face hardly betrays me. He looks almost uncomfortable in his own smile, but it is there nonetheless. "I don't think like a chess player. That's too... restricting. Simply think logically," I explain, pushing a rook forward carefully. The turns have gotten more difficult, the paths more warped, but I'm starting to pick out certain aspects of his style. I don't know if what I have is concrete enough to base my game from yet, so I'll keep slowly following his moves. "I tend to see most things in lines and patterns... like equations, math equations. Everything adds up somewhere. Everything is accounted for. It's not always clear and sometimes it takes a lot of work, but ever problem has an answer, even if that answer is no answer at all." The words spill out of me so quickly that I hardly have time to control them, mouth moving to spin syllables while my eyes roam the board for- (there.) There's a small opening on his king, just enough to throw him off kilter. I let it sit for another turn before moving my bishop to put him in check. I look up at him, eyes uncertain. "Check?"

I blink at him a bit dazedly at the mention of this Colt person, an offhanded thought slipping from his lips and his eyes to his watch. My face remains impassive, but there's something in me that smiles. So the great Kaelen Dempsey has an attachment after all. There's a look in his eyes, just a glint, that reminds me of Gogo when she gushes to her diary about Marshall. It's a little bit sickening in her, but in subtle doses it works. Like now. I pull my eyes up from studying the board at his question, a little startled by it. It's true, my queen had remained largely unplayed throughout the match so far. "It just... wasn't her time yet. Everything has it's time and hers just... hasn't shown itself."

(Kaelen Dempsey is the kind of person who often looks deader than a tribute on screen.) There's something missing in his eyes when he speaks, something vital and substantial and fragile. He's all sharp edges and gruff responses, but there is something I cannot pick up. (Then, it is clear as day.) In the instant that he begins to talk about his boyfriend, about their relationship, and how he's 'pretty great', that missing something is there. It's a spark of life that I haven't seen in him in the short time I've known him. This Colt means a great deal to him and I can see, it's just so obvious in the picture, that Kaelen means the world to him as well. He's so happy. (I wish I could capture that joy in a bottle and give it to him for the days to come. Surely they will not be as bright as the smiles in the photograph nor on his face.) "I'm sure he's fantastic. I'd love to meet him someday, should he be around."

At the same time, I am envious of him. I am envious of them both. They are so comfortable with their commitment, with their relationship, with their feelings. (What I wouldn't give for that stability, that honesty, that spark.) Instead, I get sleepless nights of empty beds and cold sheets. I get muttered 'morning's before training, where we act as if nothing ever happened. I get my hand hold and my hair pushed from my face and my body held close. (That is no life to live without feeling.) I feel everything and yet for him, there is nothing. For Tyrannus, there is the security of a brother who loves him completely and without reservation. Oh, if only he knew, but no. What would he think? What would they all think? Instead, I'll soak up one moment of his attention before giving up altogether. My smile will never be as bright as theirs.

Kaelen moves his knight quickly into the space I had just left open, my mouth dropping open to suck in a subtle gasp. The pattern becomes clear all too quickly, all too late, and I can see that his opening was a planned ruse, a trick of face. (It is so very Kaelen, I realize, the boy before me shut off with a mask unless he deems you worthy to see the truth underneath.) I'm left frowning at the board as he resets it, inquiring if I would play another game in favor of sitting in boredom. I nod hastily, sitting up straighter and cracking my neck as I stare down at the board. I quickly dart my eyes up to Kaelen, narrowing them suspiciously before my lips quirk a little. "Don't think I'll take it easy on you this time, Kae. That was just... a test. Just a test."

He chortles, bold and unchecked and without reservation, and I cannot help but smile at it. The bark of laughter seems to surprise him, though, and for a moment, there is a light confusion on his face. (Kaelen Dempsey has spent so many years in his perfect little world without feeling and stimulation that even his own responses shock him.) It's strange to see him out of place for a moment in him self, eyes wavering in focus for the briefest of moments before he is back to composed mask of indifference. The near constant light smirk settles back upon his lips and his eyes regain their catlike focus. It's like watching a child almost, seeing how he reacts as he learns and experiences more each day. For him, life is troubling enough without throwing in a gang war and tossing some dead relatives in for show.

His fingers and mine linger within the same space on the board for a moment when I make a quick reaction to one of his movements. A rook is out on the field early and my mind focuses in on it immediately, analyzing it without hardly any direction and moving a knight to counteract it easily. I retract my hand back to my lap quickly, waiting for his next move and watching carefully as he goes. A small hum vibrates in the back of my throat at his words, though I'm not sure what movie it is he's talking about. I'd never taken the time to dig up pre-Panem materials of any kind, but the idea he speaks of is entertaining in his words along. As for the people he speaks of, I can't say I'm surprised. Beryl Shore has always been a clever one. He's a little prince, his head tilted a fraction of an inch higher than the rest of the world, but I can't hold it against him. (No doubt I'm the same way.) The problem is that one just can't see it in oneself. It's difficult. Then, there's Ender. I've never spoken to the boy- man- manboy before, but he's got snark unrivaled, perhaps even by Kaelen Dempsey. He's a bit of a reckless soul and I've done my part to avoid him and his little street gang of underground fighters. (The fight club is a dangerous place to be.) I'd been invited once by another Career in the center, but Tyrannus shut down the idea so fast the boy didn't even know why his nose was bleeding. "And I suppose these angels have gotten their wings, no?"

Style is interesting in that it is different depending on whose it is. It's a careful choosing of preferences. (Kaelen's chess style is one of discreet misdirection.) His movements are careful and precise, each one just a small piece of a master plan laid out at the start of each set. The only way to beat him is to play him at his own game and take it from him before he has the chance to screw you. I'm quick in my assessment of the board, eyes drifting from piece to piece and calculating just what they can and cannot do for me. (I'll almost certainly lose this round, just like the last one.) I'm starting to see bits and pieces of his plan, but not enough. I counteract two of his moves slowly, fingers lingering on teetering pieces. Then, I make a carefully hidden move of my own, testing the waters of my own hidden movements. My bishop slides forward into place. Now to see if he'll pick up on it.