D4 ] Michel Nathanael Krigel . finished
Jun 25, 2014 4:18:01 GMT -5
Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 25, 2014 4:18:01 GMT -5
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Without thinking he begins to adopt the role of Leon Krigel into his life, too - the perfect blend of Michel and Leon to make himself truly Nat, forcing smiles in the mirror in what feels like some kind of god damned parody of his older brother's perfected mask, stamping down his usually quickfire temper in search for the sea of calm that Leon so often floats upon. (The first time he doesn't rise up to the bullies' bait is the one time he walks home with a genuine smile splitting his face in two, and the mask becomes somewhat easier to reach after that.)
Nat's not as great a listener as Leon - he doesn't have the patience to sit and stare someone in the face for hours on end without falling asleep or snapping - so he doesn't bother trying; instead he picks fights with the ones who hurt because he can, picks what he feels are the right moments to let them push him against walls and into heated enclosed spaces because he can't truly be Leon and he doesn't want to be Michel (cold quiet angry bitter) anymore and it's okay because he's still discovering Nat himself. He lets them take their sorrows out on his skin, and if Mother eyes his bruises with increasing disapproval he doesn't care because this is one way he can feel closer to his brother.
Some things are harder to be rid of than others, though. Nat still isn't strong enough to completely resist pulling tricks on those he thinks deserve it - and it's not like he knows his mother uses the same shampoo on her hair as his sister, and just because her hair is purple doesn't necessarily mean it's his fault. (He remembers when both he and Leon set that trap up for the boy who often trips them up when the chance presents itself, the look on the bully's cream-covered face was worth any punishment they had gotten; it seems so long ago even though it's only been about half a year.
It feels so, so much longer.)
He knows that he's always been the more malicious between him and Leon; it's one of the other things that he can't seem to get over (and maybe it's good that he's not going to be a copy of his older brother, he wants to be his own person too). Leon's always cared about feelings, even when he says he doesn't (it's plain to see for Michel, and it's still plain to see as Nat). Neither Michel nor Nat give a damn, neither know when to stop, when hilarity becomes hurt, where the line between 'just funny' and 'too much' is.
(So maybe that's why the bites and bruises he receives are so satisfying, why he feels the weight of Leon's disapproval seeping into his skin like he might never feel it again.)
Mother tells him that he looks very much like his older brother, but Leon's face has always been more open than Nat's - he reminds himself that's it should be expected. Though the shape of his eyes match his brother's hooded ones, Leon's gaze has always been bluer than the poison-green of Nat's stare; though the curve of their brows are the same, Nat's always managed to make himself look significantly more arrogant than his brother (and it's one of the things that makes bruises almost a permanent fixture on his long and lean frame, scattering over his pale skin as he lets hurt be etched out over his skin like he's a piece of art by an ailing artist).
He's broken his nose before, and though Leon's done his absolute best in trying to set the break it didn't heal completely straight. Michel thought it was something to be proud of, like he'd come back from the wars, like it was a battle scar to be flaunted; Nat stares his tear-streaked reflection in the mirror and wishes the wars didn't hit so damned close to home (in his own fucking family like home wasn't close enough, Leon will you ever come back?). When he's not loathing the look on his face Nat's realizing that he's growing in his brother's image - down to the style of his honey-blonde hair (like it could ever grow any other way), but Nat keeps it longer, lets the tips fall into his right eye to give him an excuse to disrespect (teachers peacekeepers people) anyone who dares to look him in the face.
Nat bites with slightly crooked teeth, then challenges his victim with a wicked grin that stretches his plump pink lips over them; it's a quiet dare, almost an invitation for a fight, garnished with every little taunt he can possibly throw into the mix. Maybe it's because he can't stop that his face is never perfectly symmetrical with all the beatings he takes; it gets to the point where he's even got little ways to reduce damage, where he knows the exact angle and timing to turn away from a well-placed punched to avoid it hurting too much later.
(He gives as good as he gets though, and he plays dirty clawing his way through every fight; but Nat's always been a better archer than most - even Leon.
Right now he wishes that wasn't a truth.)
Nat has never been as attuned to music as Leon is, and when he was much younger he'd thrown Leon's flute out the window (Leon retaliated by hooking Nat over his shoulder and running everywhere, leaving his little brother feeling dizzy and motion-sick when he was finally dumped unceremoniously on the ground). The fact of the matter is that Leon can sing and play anything he'd like; Nat, on the other hand, cannot, even when he was Michel. He suspects that no matter who he is, music will be a difficulty for him; but now it doesn't stop him from picking up Leon's meticulously cared-for instruments and plucking out a few notes, and it certainly doesn't stop him from singing his brothers' favorites under his breath when nobody's around.
He takes to soaking up the sun on the roof, dreaming about the times he'd shared with his siblings (the times Arissa, his sister, had given Nat tips on getting back at her twin, or vice versa, or when Leon would tease him mercilessly while Arissa watched with an indulgent smile on her face). They had been carefree then, and he wishes it'd be the same now. Nat's not a huge fan of change even while he knows it's going to make itself at home anyway, but it doesn't stop him from wishing things would go back to the way it was.
Sometimes at night he'd crawl into Leon's bed in his room and curl up there, thinking of the times when Leon would tell him stories in a sleepy, soothing voice until Nat fell asleep; thinking of the endless games the three of them had played in that very room; thinking of all the trouble they'd gotten into as they grew up. Leon and Arissa have been nothing but amazing siblings to Michel, and now a part of Nat wishes he has the chance to return the favor. (The time when he brings Arissa slightly burnt breakfast in bed may have been too much, though.)
Nat takes to watching Finnegan Hood (because he remembers seeing the look on Leon's face, not many people notice anything about his brother but Nat does and Nat remembers, Nat remembers that Finnegan Hood was the last person to see his brother before Leon had gone away and he wishes he'd had the courage to enter that goddamned room but he hadn't and he's so stupid). Takes to making deals with the older boy with a calculating look on his face, trying to seem like he knows something Finnegan doesn't (and maybe he does, maybe Leon had kept his silence to the end). Buys little things he thinks Leon likes to buy: insignificant little things that, when he gets home, he lines up in neat rows on Leon's desk like it's some kind of private calendar - a silent count of the number days that Leon's not been home.
There's no one to talk to that Nat can ever find the words for, but he misses Leon and maybe he's not alone. He never actually knows, though. It hurts to love, because love hurts him when it screams, and it's been screaming for a very long time.
take my hand, follow me to the purest sand
H
e's always been the sort of boy who remains true to everything that he knows, and one thing he knows is that he'll never be called Michel ever again - even if this is the only name that everyone else knows him by. (But they know him by another name now, too, they know him as Krigel because his dear older brother walks the 67th arena with blood that Michel imagines stains his soul.) He decides the moment he hears 'Blaise Krigel' slip out the escort's neon-painted lips that he'll call himself Nat - Nat for his middle name, for Nathanael - as a silent tribute to the older brother he misses with every quivering shred of his frantically beating heart. Without thinking he begins to adopt the role of Leon Krigel into his life, too - the perfect blend of Michel and Leon to make himself truly Nat, forcing smiles in the mirror in what feels like some kind of god damned parody of his older brother's perfected mask, stamping down his usually quickfire temper in search for the sea of calm that Leon so often floats upon. (The first time he doesn't rise up to the bullies' bait is the one time he walks home with a genuine smile splitting his face in two, and the mask becomes somewhat easier to reach after that.)
Nat's not as great a listener as Leon - he doesn't have the patience to sit and stare someone in the face for hours on end without falling asleep or snapping - so he doesn't bother trying; instead he picks fights with the ones who hurt because he can, picks what he feels are the right moments to let them push him against walls and into heated enclosed spaces because he can't truly be Leon and he doesn't want to be Michel (cold quiet angry bitter) anymore and it's okay because he's still discovering Nat himself. He lets them take their sorrows out on his skin, and if Mother eyes his bruises with increasing disapproval he doesn't care because this is one way he can feel closer to his brother.
Some things are harder to be rid of than others, though. Nat still isn't strong enough to completely resist pulling tricks on those he thinks deserve it - and it's not like he knows his mother uses the same shampoo on her hair as his sister, and just because her hair is purple doesn't necessarily mean it's his fault. (He remembers when both he and Leon set that trap up for the boy who often trips them up when the chance presents itself, the look on the bully's cream-covered face was worth any punishment they had gotten; it seems so long ago even though it's only been about half a year.
It feels so, so much longer.)
He knows that he's always been the more malicious between him and Leon; it's one of the other things that he can't seem to get over (and maybe it's good that he's not going to be a copy of his older brother, he wants to be his own person too). Leon's always cared about feelings, even when he says he doesn't (it's plain to see for Michel, and it's still plain to see as Nat). Neither Michel nor Nat give a damn, neither know when to stop, when hilarity becomes hurt, where the line between 'just funny' and 'too much' is.
(So maybe that's why the bites and bruises he receives are so satisfying, why he feels the weight of Leon's disapproval seeping into his skin like he might never feel it again.)
&
Mother tells him that he looks very much like his older brother, but Leon's face has always been more open than Nat's - he reminds himself that's it should be expected. Though the shape of his eyes match his brother's hooded ones, Leon's gaze has always been bluer than the poison-green of Nat's stare; though the curve of their brows are the same, Nat's always managed to make himself look significantly more arrogant than his brother (and it's one of the things that makes bruises almost a permanent fixture on his long and lean frame, scattering over his pale skin as he lets hurt be etched out over his skin like he's a piece of art by an ailing artist).
He's broken his nose before, and though Leon's done his absolute best in trying to set the break it didn't heal completely straight. Michel thought it was something to be proud of, like he'd come back from the wars, like it was a battle scar to be flaunted; Nat stares his tear-streaked reflection in the mirror and wishes the wars didn't hit so damned close to home (in his own fucking family like home wasn't close enough, Leon will you ever come back?). When he's not loathing the look on his face Nat's realizing that he's growing in his brother's image - down to the style of his honey-blonde hair (like it could ever grow any other way), but Nat keeps it longer, lets the tips fall into his right eye to give him an excuse to disrespect (teachers peacekeepers people) anyone who dares to look him in the face.
Nat bites with slightly crooked teeth, then challenges his victim with a wicked grin that stretches his plump pink lips over them; it's a quiet dare, almost an invitation for a fight, garnished with every little taunt he can possibly throw into the mix. Maybe it's because he can't stop that his face is never perfectly symmetrical with all the beatings he takes; it gets to the point where he's even got little ways to reduce damage, where he knows the exact angle and timing to turn away from a well-placed punched to avoid it hurting too much later.
(He gives as good as he gets though, and he plays dirty clawing his way through every fight; but Nat's always been a better archer than most - even Leon.
Right now he wishes that wasn't a truth.)
&
Nat has never been as attuned to music as Leon is, and when he was much younger he'd thrown Leon's flute out the window (Leon retaliated by hooking Nat over his shoulder and running everywhere, leaving his little brother feeling dizzy and motion-sick when he was finally dumped unceremoniously on the ground). The fact of the matter is that Leon can sing and play anything he'd like; Nat, on the other hand, cannot, even when he was Michel. He suspects that no matter who he is, music will be a difficulty for him; but now it doesn't stop him from picking up Leon's meticulously cared-for instruments and plucking out a few notes, and it certainly doesn't stop him from singing his brothers' favorites under his breath when nobody's around.
He takes to soaking up the sun on the roof, dreaming about the times he'd shared with his siblings (the times Arissa, his sister, had given Nat tips on getting back at her twin, or vice versa, or when Leon would tease him mercilessly while Arissa watched with an indulgent smile on her face). They had been carefree then, and he wishes it'd be the same now. Nat's not a huge fan of change even while he knows it's going to make itself at home anyway, but it doesn't stop him from wishing things would go back to the way it was.
Sometimes at night he'd crawl into Leon's bed in his room and curl up there, thinking of the times when Leon would tell him stories in a sleepy, soothing voice until Nat fell asleep; thinking of the endless games the three of them had played in that very room; thinking of all the trouble they'd gotten into as they grew up. Leon and Arissa have been nothing but amazing siblings to Michel, and now a part of Nat wishes he has the chance to return the favor. (The time when he brings Arissa slightly burnt breakfast in bed may have been too much, though.)
Nat takes to watching Finnegan Hood (because he remembers seeing the look on Leon's face, not many people notice anything about his brother but Nat does and Nat remembers, Nat remembers that Finnegan Hood was the last person to see his brother before Leon had gone away and he wishes he'd had the courage to enter that goddamned room but he hadn't and he's so stupid). Takes to making deals with the older boy with a calculating look on his face, trying to seem like he knows something Finnegan doesn't (and maybe he does, maybe Leon had kept his silence to the end). Buys little things he thinks Leon likes to buy: insignificant little things that, when he gets home, he lines up in neat rows on Leon's desk like it's some kind of private calendar - a silent count of the number days that Leon's not been home.
There's no one to talk to that Nat can ever find the words for, but he misses Leon and maybe he's not alone. He never actually knows, though. It hurts to love, because love hurts him when it screams, and it's been screaming for a very long time.
I've wrestled with angels all my life
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Nat Krigel
Nat Krigel
district 4
fourteen
male
odair
fourteen
male
odair
