Sun Will Be Yours (if you run for it) // Safe

♕ m a c e ♕

❝ one more word,
and you won't survive ❞

The day they returned from the 75th Quell, Mace put Regalia and Oscar through their paces. He turned the house upside down and inside out, covering paint chips and sealing the back porch and dusting away cobwebs.

A week later, he invited Saffron to make it her home, however she saw fit.

A month later, he packed Coralee up for kindergarten, Mason for fourth grade and Kieran for high school. He thought about having the talk with Kieran, but felt his stomach rejected the idea in favor of a late second breakfast.

Two months later a chill had settled over the farmhouse, the first indication of a hastening winter. "Bet it'll snow tomorrow," he said to Saffron as he pulled the window overlooking the avenue shut. He thought he saw a shadow flicker through the yellow street lights. Kieran? Paige? He sighed. They were not as subtle as they thought and it worried him and excited him. Maybe they would know a love as deep and fierce as the one he now knew. Maybe they could keep it from all the suffering he and Saffron had witnessed. Maybe.

With the window closed, the record player he'd recently purchased filled the master bedroom. For being made of wood and metal it carried a steady beat. He found himself crossing the room, his footsteps falling into the rhythm. He held out his hand to her. When her fingers fell into his, he held fast and then reached for her waist, drawing her up.

"Hey, hey, hey, heyyy," he crooned along with the music, his pitch absolutely atrocious. He swayed, spun her slowly once, and then came to his knees. He tilted his forehead against the soft swell of her stomach and in the midst of the thrumming song came to complete stillness. He took her hands, drawing them to her hips, and held her tightly, steadily, not a tremor to be found.

When he came back to his feet, he moved slowly, ever aware of her. He opened his wingspan to spin her again. He wanted to ask how she felt, what the midwife thought, if she had a name picked out. Instead, he turned his thoughts to the music, to the window, to the shadow. "What are we going to do with your sister and my son?"