safe haven {speakers} day six

The stars in the sky that evening were the perfect reminder that, no matter how many opponents they cut down, no matter how many days they trudged through one surreal biome after another, no matter how many light-hearted conversations they had in gardens bordered by sunset, that their time in the land of the living was ending.

He looked up in the sky that night like he had for every night prior, and four faces lost forever to the great beyond stared back down at him.

Gabby from four, known as Gabrielle Bellamonte. Though he didn't break his gaze from the stars, a deep inhale from somewhere off to his side signaled to him that Riven Fowley had indeed seen the face of her latest kill.

Another Four - the last of them, he realized with a start - flashed, a boy who had barely registered in his mind as anything other than Career, and then faded.

And then the third face flashed, and this time it was him that took a sharp inhale of breath.

For as much as Fate would deem otherwise, he had never planned on seeing the face of Fallon Payne again while he still drew breath.

And yet...

Something stirred within his chest, something primal and raw, and his vision blurred, for Fallon Payne - sweet, pure, monster-trapper Fallon Payne - was no more amongst the land of the living.

He blinked once, twice, thrice, and his vision cleared, just in time to see Fallon's face disappear from the clouds. He exhaled, preparing himself for the next face.

And then his eyes widened in shock when it wasn't the face of Tamron Rhodes that followed the fallen knight from Five, but that of Eszter Summit from Seven. Another memory from the training center, that of a tough, no-nonsense girl whose own views sharply contrasted his flashed across the forefront of his mind, and he wondered who had had the strength and the courage to finally snuff out her fiery spirit.

Eszter's face faded, and so did the anthem, signalling the end of the deaths for the day. A sigh escaped his lips, and his gaze dropped from the starlit sky.

Every day, the number of people whom he would trust to take his life away was fewer than the last. And with it, the number of people he found he had formed some sort of connection with.

"Thirteen," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Thirteen living souls standing between him and a way out. A week ago, such a goal would have been considered nigh impossible to achieve.

But for said goal to be accomplished meant that Riven's quiet voice would be silenced forever. For him to leave alive meant that Wylla's fiery spirit would be extinguished for all of eternity. For him to leave meant that Cassiopeia and her pretty district partner and the last Eckhart and Riordan Einfallen and the female Karmichael and Shelby and Eva and Izar and Tamron Rhodes and whoever else was left would all lose their lives to the blades of each other or whatever the Gamemakers could throw their way.

It was a goal with far too high a price for him to even consider.

And it was also a goal that he had had no intention of fulfilling, not then, not now, not ever.

---

Morning brought teas and pastries and crayons, accented by the upbeat sounds of "Noot noot!" from bizarre, yet ultimately harmless, mutts, each dressed in some fancy getup.

He'd ignored most of them, save for one that had apparently deemed him worthy of inspection.
This one had been persistent, pushing its snout into his hands as if it were looking for something in particular.

But apparently he didn't have whatever it had been searching for, for after a few moments of noots and a strange sensation of snout on flesh, it had retreated to join its brethren once again.

He'd grabbed a pastry, a cup of green tea, and a bright purple crayon in turn from the already minuscule stockpile from within the garden. The former had long since made its way into his stomach, and he sipped from the middle with one hand while the other absently drew on his thigh with the latter. An isosceles triangle had already been drawn out, virtually identical to the miniature versions he had drawn back on the third day but noticeably larger than its long-since-melted counterparts. As he took another sip, a thin rectangular shape emerged from the base of the triangle, long and thick enough for a perfect grip.

He watched, mesmerized, as the dagger came to life. Once it had fully materialized, it joined the steadily dwindling supplies in his bag.

Then Riven's words reached his ears, and he stiffened.

"You're leaving."

Two words, so simple and yet so powerful in turn, and he turned to spot the girl from Ten reaching out to embrace Wylla in a hug, so sweet and tender that his discomfort levels rose tenfold, as if he was intruding on something deep and personal and not meant for his eyes.

"Leaving me so soon? I just got back."

A new voice sounds from behind, and he turned to see Eva approaching them with a grin on her face. The girl from Eight was missing one hand and looking a little ragged but otherwise no worse for the wear.

His shock wore off quickly, and a blank stare transformed into a grin and a dip of the head in greeting towards the fourth member of their pact.

Then he turned back around, and suddenly Riven was hugging him, arms wrapping around his torso in what was perhaps the first ever gesture of affection he had received by someone other than his father or stepmother in his life.

Long, gangly arms reached down awkwardly to return the embrace. It was new and unfamiliar, and not just because of the height difference, but he liked it.

"Stay safe, okay?" Riven spoke again, before giving him one final squeeze and breaking the embrace. "Promise you won't die or anything?"

And the internal dilemma he had faced last night flashed again in front of his eyes, entrapping him in one equally difficult to escape from as the first.

He could promise, but then what? He and Riven both knew that if he didn't die, then it meant that she would in his place.

And, he realized with a start, it was something that he wished would never come to pass, no matter how Fate aligned itself.

So, he greeted the question with a small grin and a short response.

"Don't worry about me, Riven. I won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Empty promises meant little in the grand scheme of things, so it would be one he would fulfill to the best of his ability, even as a plan started to form within his cranium.

"You're stronger than you know, Riven." he added after a second, tone even yet strong. "So stay safe as well, okay?"

He held her gaze for a moment longer, before turning to train it on the wide-eyed stare of the girl who had been by his side since day one, the girl with whom he had navigated a bloodbath, the girl who had kept him sane after what would prove to be his final encounter with Fallon Payne, the girl who had rushed forward to exact revenge on the boy who had dared to hit him with a throwing axe, the girl who had survived a stampede and other tributes alike without his guidance, the girl who had joined him to take on a Career, but most importantly, the girl he had come to care for almost like he would a sister.

"I don't do goodbyes." she piped up, voice strong and clear. "So this is a see you soon."

And by Ripred, she was the girl who understood, too.

No one had ever understood him before, not quite like this twelve year old girl from Three had.

See you soon.

His grin grew wider, and a quick nod preceded his next words. "Most definitely, Wylla." he replied.

He'd never been good with words, yet some part deep within him realized that it was okay, even now. Blue eyes stared into brown, and it was as if an eternity of memories and thoughts were exchanged between him and her without the uttering of a single word.

Then, he closed his eyes and exhaled. "I'll see you soon, too," he quipped finally.

And yet, not soon enough, he added silently.

He wondered if this was what friendship - actual, real friendship - felt like.

If it was, he decided, then the feeling was worth everything that he had endured since first stepping foot in the arena magnified by a thousand.

I'll see you soon.

He wasn't known for breaking his promises, and yet he made a vow, right then and there, that this was one he wouldn't break upon pain of eternal torment.

"Thank you for being my friends."

Thank you, too, from the bottom of my heart.

"I love you both, but not in that way."

"Love you too. Truly."

And he meant it. Every last word.