When It's All Over // [ Saffron!/Mace ] Dec 18, 2013 21:55:31 GMT -5
Post by Milo Miloslavsky D11M [Kay] on Dec 18, 2013 21:55:31 GMT -5
for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died
He’d dropped kisses on Juliet and Kieran’s heads before he bolted from the nursery. He wondered if Opal would forgive him, for the mess she’d found him in, for his abrupt departure. It didn’t matter though, not now, not now that everything would be alright. He started to the right, on the most direct path. After a few steps, he came to a complete halt. It would take him through the middle of the center, including the foyer and dining hall. There was no chance he would escape the questions, the fans, in time. And now not just his fans. Saffron’s fans.[/b]”
His mouth twitched up into a smile as he turned around and shouldered his way into one of the waitstaff passages. It took him several wrong turns and backtracking, but eventually he made it to the hovercraft launch tunnel. He remembered it unlike many of the victors, because he had not been drugged or unconscious when he was returned to the Training Center. They had all but finished patching him on the flight back, and though he had been quiet in his vigil, he saw the path in his dreams, the path that brought him back to the land of the living. To Julian.
An avox stared at him, bug-eyed as he jogged down the tunnel. It felt good to run, felt good to have the sickness in his throat gone, wept out of his system. His leather boots slapped on the smooth tile, echoing down the empty hall. But he could hear it, the whirr of the hovercraft descending. For the first time in a week he felt warm, the ivory cashmere sweater suddenly a burden instead of an asset. He grabbed around the neck, loosening its hold, refusing to be choked by fine things. Because he’d been trying to choke on them for the last five Games. Champagne and macaroons, prime rib and mashed potatoes, gold-flecked gummies and plum torte. Anything to bury the feeling he had released in the nursery, anything but to feel the complete failure. And he had still failed; when he returned to Ten, he would go with Marlboro to Mantel’s funeral.
But there would be only be one funeral this year.
He pulled up just outside of the metal doors, huffing with the exertion. Beyond, he turned the clank of the hovercraft landing. Mace shifted his weight from side to side, unable to keep himself still. He could take off the sweater, but what if he got cold when the fresh air came in? Was it even cold outside? Maybe Saffron would want it. Whatever she wanted, he realized, he would get it for her. Even if that meant tussling with Peacekeepers and arguing with doctors. He knew her recovery would be long, but he intended to make it the easiest of any victor. He shrugged out of the sweater, a plain white shirt underneath. And that’s how he stood, clutching his paltry gift, as the doors parted and the whirlwind of the hovercraft’s engines blew into his face.
He squinted against the daylight, looking for her in the chaos. He saw only a shadow, a blood-stained shadow, before she barreled into him. He wheezed, stuck for a moment in the past, in all the years his arms had been empty. And then he closed the sweater around her, hugging her sticky little body to his. “You’re here,” he said, putting his cheek to the top of her head. “I’ll be damned, Saffron Lowe. And I ain’t never letting you go.
banner credit: jurate
lyrics:placebo for what it's worth
lyrics:placebo for what it's worth