silent stars {cato}

"Hang on, I'm coming."

Weaver sighed a breath of relief hearing the voice did in fact belong to his brother, and not someone else. Yet it wasn't enough to completely take away the free burning inside, but knowing that Harbinger had been through the same exact thing made it a bit easier except it wasn't the same. Weaver was condemned to die, and he knew it. The silence was eerie. Most were probably sleeping as the Capitol celebrated outside, however, sleep was for those who were confident. He wondered in the back of his mind if Iona had found a way to sleep.

The door opened, and Weaver jumped back to avoid being hit in the face because it flew right at him. His eyes locked on the eyes of the victor pleading innocently for help. "Hey, Weaver." Harbinger's voice was quiet, yet Weaver understood why. The other victors were probably sleeping along with the escort and stylist, and anyone else who was sleeping on the district eleven floor. But it only made him realize how much time was left because the stars twinkled in the sky, and he needed to talk. He needed to learn as much as possible before the sun leaped into the sky. Yet when his brother asked if he wanted to talk inside, Weaver's gaze dropped to the floor once more.

"Harbinger, I don't know what to do." He sighed as quietly as possible. Tears burned his eye sockets, but they never fell down his face. Heavy breaths filled his lungs, and bulky hands shook at his side. "What..." do I have to do? His question fell short as he shook his head briefly. "Yeah can we talk? Somewhere. Anywhere. I don't care." A lump formed in the back of his throat making it hard to swallow because reality was inching closer, and the nightmares of his brothers journeying through the arena filled his mind. "Were you afraid, Harbinger? Of the games? Of changing? Of killing people?"

He watched as Harbinger dropped his gaze. It was hard seeing his brother like this, but Weaver needed answers. He needed to know for his own sake. A death sentence was handed down to him, and it ate away at his mind. All he wanted was some sort of distraction. Something to remind him that he was still the eighteen year old male he was when Finter called his name. But he wasn't the same person. A brave man stood in the district square, and all the was left now was a boy trapped inside the body of a man. Hopelessness was such a terrible feeling, yet it was one that infiltrated his body taking courage by the hand and throwing it away.

His eyes lit up just a bit as Harbinger asked him to follow, and Weaver moved as quickly as he could trying to keep up wondering where his brother was taking him. Every fiber of his being prayed that it wasn't the training room because he didn't want to hold another weapon in his hand until one was placed in front of him in the arena. He didn't want to fight anymore. All he wanted was a chance to relax his mind and find some comfort in this all. But nothing was comforting. Every second his mind raced to the thoughts to the painful death he'd experience as tributes hacked him into pieces.

Harbinger moved past the elevator, and up the stairs. Weaver sighed as he realized he wasn't heading to the gym because they were going up. His eyes locked on the gray walls as every single footstep echoed through the closed in stairs. And then Harbinger opened a door, and all the lights burnt his eyes as Weaver tried to shield his face. Fresh air filled his lungs, and he wanted to stand there for a moment looking at the stars. Harbinger went on to explain that he felt those emotions, and feeling was what made them human.

Weaver wasn't used to feeling. He locked every emotion away in the back of his mind until the pressure built up. But right now he couldn't help the small smile spreading across his face as he moved onto the roof. He spun looking at all the buildings taking in the magnificent sizes of them all. Cheering and chattering buzzed through his ears as the Capitol citizens partied before the games began. It almost made him sick realizing how excited these people were about the games. Sometime though it all his chin dropped to the floor as he stared up at the stars. It was as close as he could get to lying under the stars back in district eleven.

"It's amazing up here. Almost freeing." Weaver stated as he turned around looking at everything taking it all in like a child being tossed into a toy store given free range to do whatever. "I can see all the stars." His voice was hushed as he walked around taking it all in. Bright lights blinded him, but soon his eyes adjusted, and he could see the entire city circle of the Capitol.

A heavy sigh erupt past his lips as his gaze dropped to the ground. "You're strong, Harbinger, and I need you to stay strong no matter what happens. Together we can carry the weight forever."