remember the date // Kirito & Anastasia
Aug 4, 2018 18:25:15 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on Aug 4, 2018 18:25:15 GMT -5
"Daddy, how could you? Why?"
The horror hangs heavy in the shock of her eyes. The words to say fail from her Father's lips falling mute within a mouth sewn shut with grief and guilt. His hands are still bloody, still leaking red from the lives he has taken. In the swirling seas of her tears the ghosts of his past revealed now hold her victim. A hand shaking releases towards her small shivering structure begging for touch, for amnesty from the truth. Contact between Father and Daughter is denied, a scream splitting her lips instead. His voice still suffocating beneath the weight of his sorrowful sins screeches in silence as the blonde of her hair vanishes through the door.
"I'm sorry..."
It's spoken too late.
Sweat sticks the sheets of sewn silk to Kirito's side as a room of luxury welcomes him back into reality. Lightly morning rays ripple into the space of silence through slits in the pulled drapes of velour. Shakily he stirs from his mess of matted sheets to the side of the bed which once belonged to a boy terrified of a Quell. Now there is no fear of dying in the arena, but fear of the scars it left on him and of the truth behind each one. The lines left in ridges on his chest by a boy who believed that victors do not come from District Six. The remnants of stitches on his false ears forged by the cruel kisses of mutts. The circle like a mountain above his lower ribs created by the shot of a gun from a man as strong as the trees he was raised in. An entire story of sorrow etched into his existence. An entire story his own adopted daughter does not know.
A flicked switch surges life into the dark expanse of Kirito's unchanging room here in the Capitol. Upon another activation of some electronic, the windows pull back their drapes exposing the wicked world they call home. Swarming the color coded streets of the Capitol, its citizens chant and call for the coming blood of Day Three fueled by the lives of twenty two remaining tributes. Eleven lost the life of Ping earlier on and now Kirito had worries for how much further Felix could make it. Of all the tributes he has sent into slaughter these were the two Kirito knew least. The thought turns his face solemnly away from the blood thirsting beasts below.
As though summoned by the detection of movement, Fintermelon in addition to Kirito's usual stylists enter his room without knocking. Long ago Kirito had hated the Capitolite man with hair as orange as a traffic cone. But, through the years of losses and the raising of his children Finter never faded or left. He was always there looking out for his victor. Now Kirito can't help but welcome him as friend. Still though, friends often need reminders of boundaries.
"Finter we've talked about this. At least knock before barging in."
In flurry of motion both defiant and apologetic Finter gives several small bows. Kirito nearly smiles imagining such movement must be similar to that of birds back home in Eleven.
"Of course, of course! I simply get so excited I forget. I will work on it, you have my word." His hands suddenly clap together spurring a wave of energy into his squad. "Now let's get you ready!"
Confusion curls Kirito's eyebrows as he gestures suddenly with his hands for the activity in the room to cease. "Ready for what? I don't have any plans other than taking Ana out for her birthday."
As though shelled with shock Finter raises his hands towards the gold lined ceiling. "Precisely! If you don't think people in the Capitol know that it's your adopted daughter's birthday you are surely mistaken! You two must look your best for the cameras! I won't have my star and his daughter looking anything less than outstanding on a day such as this!"
An argument begins to materialize on the mouth of Kirito but Finter swiftly stops any such attempt. The styling squad swarms the victor in a frenzy. Thanks to experience the ordeal takes far less time than it ever use to. A fresh hair cut with a fine white suit lined in bronze, and then the final detail that nearly makes Kirito's fair skin as white as Snow. His token, the bronze rose pendant Ikaia had bought him just days before the 70th Reaping. For years the artifact of unique importance has sat in a box Kirito's own fingers have been unable to open. He feels his throat tightening in terror.
"That brings back memories."
Circe walks in from the doorway. As always her skin is unscathed, not an inch of the scene her own axe tore into her spine. Today she wears the same outfit they both shared within the cell of the Training Center. Her eyes almost seem as full of light as they did the moment they bonded in the sharing of their most sacred sin. Two twins brought together by fate, one now a king sitting on a throne of casualties and the other the Queen of the Underworld. Except every meeting she seems so much more alive.
"Does he hate you for it? For choosing her over him?"
Her eyes like those of a hunting lioness bear into Kirito's mixed sight of artificial and real. His heart rushes as he swears he can feel the warmth of her breath on his face.
"Would Jaime have hated you?"
"What?"
The scene snaps. She is replace by Finter with confusion crippling his face. Kirito steps back with his hands shaking in a dangerously quick frequency. He coughs his throat now suddenly screaming for the relief of water.
"Nothing. I just need a drink."
Alone in the living room water cold as the ice within in slips down Kirito's throat. They've been so real before, she's never been so alive. Kirito nearly drowns in his river of thoughts until she arrives with his stylists just behind her. Ana stands shining in a white bronze dress matching his own attire. Seeing her so clean brings a smile to his face but also hurt into his heart. She looks so much like a Capitolite, but she is so far from them beneath her skin.
"So where are we going today birthday girl?"
The horror hangs heavy in the shock of her eyes. The words to say fail from her Father's lips falling mute within a mouth sewn shut with grief and guilt. His hands are still bloody, still leaking red from the lives he has taken. In the swirling seas of her tears the ghosts of his past revealed now hold her victim. A hand shaking releases towards her small shivering structure begging for touch, for amnesty from the truth. Contact between Father and Daughter is denied, a scream splitting her lips instead. His voice still suffocating beneath the weight of his sorrowful sins screeches in silence as the blonde of her hair vanishes through the door.
"I'm sorry..."
It's spoken too late.
Sweat sticks the sheets of sewn silk to Kirito's side as a room of luxury welcomes him back into reality. Lightly morning rays ripple into the space of silence through slits in the pulled drapes of velour. Shakily he stirs from his mess of matted sheets to the side of the bed which once belonged to a boy terrified of a Quell. Now there is no fear of dying in the arena, but fear of the scars it left on him and of the truth behind each one. The lines left in ridges on his chest by a boy who believed that victors do not come from District Six. The remnants of stitches on his false ears forged by the cruel kisses of mutts. The circle like a mountain above his lower ribs created by the shot of a gun from a man as strong as the trees he was raised in. An entire story of sorrow etched into his existence. An entire story his own adopted daughter does not know.
A flicked switch surges life into the dark expanse of Kirito's unchanging room here in the Capitol. Upon another activation of some electronic, the windows pull back their drapes exposing the wicked world they call home. Swarming the color coded streets of the Capitol, its citizens chant and call for the coming blood of Day Three fueled by the lives of twenty two remaining tributes. Eleven lost the life of Ping earlier on and now Kirito had worries for how much further Felix could make it. Of all the tributes he has sent into slaughter these were the two Kirito knew least. The thought turns his face solemnly away from the blood thirsting beasts below.
As though summoned by the detection of movement, Fintermelon in addition to Kirito's usual stylists enter his room without knocking. Long ago Kirito had hated the Capitolite man with hair as orange as a traffic cone. But, through the years of losses and the raising of his children Finter never faded or left. He was always there looking out for his victor. Now Kirito can't help but welcome him as friend. Still though, friends often need reminders of boundaries.
"Finter we've talked about this. At least knock before barging in."
In flurry of motion both defiant and apologetic Finter gives several small bows. Kirito nearly smiles imagining such movement must be similar to that of birds back home in Eleven.
"Of course, of course! I simply get so excited I forget. I will work on it, you have my word." His hands suddenly clap together spurring a wave of energy into his squad. "Now let's get you ready!"
Confusion curls Kirito's eyebrows as he gestures suddenly with his hands for the activity in the room to cease. "Ready for what? I don't have any plans other than taking Ana out for her birthday."
As though shelled with shock Finter raises his hands towards the gold lined ceiling. "Precisely! If you don't think people in the Capitol know that it's your adopted daughter's birthday you are surely mistaken! You two must look your best for the cameras! I won't have my star and his daughter looking anything less than outstanding on a day such as this!"
An argument begins to materialize on the mouth of Kirito but Finter swiftly stops any such attempt. The styling squad swarms the victor in a frenzy. Thanks to experience the ordeal takes far less time than it ever use to. A fresh hair cut with a fine white suit lined in bronze, and then the final detail that nearly makes Kirito's fair skin as white as Snow. His token, the bronze rose pendant Ikaia had bought him just days before the 70th Reaping. For years the artifact of unique importance has sat in a box Kirito's own fingers have been unable to open. He feels his throat tightening in terror.
"That brings back memories."
Circe walks in from the doorway. As always her skin is unscathed, not an inch of the scene her own axe tore into her spine. Today she wears the same outfit they both shared within the cell of the Training Center. Her eyes almost seem as full of light as they did the moment they bonded in the sharing of their most sacred sin. Two twins brought together by fate, one now a king sitting on a throne of casualties and the other the Queen of the Underworld. Except every meeting she seems so much more alive.
"Does he hate you for it? For choosing her over him?"
Her eyes like those of a hunting lioness bear into Kirito's mixed sight of artificial and real. His heart rushes as he swears he can feel the warmth of her breath on his face.
"Would Jaime have hated you?"
"What?"
The scene snaps. She is replace by Finter with confusion crippling his face. Kirito steps back with his hands shaking in a dangerously quick frequency. He coughs his throat now suddenly screaming for the relief of water.
"Nothing. I just need a drink."
Alone in the living room water cold as the ice within in slips down Kirito's throat. They've been so real before, she's never been so alive. Kirito nearly drowns in his river of thoughts until she arrives with his stylists just behind her. Ana stands shining in a white bronze dress matching his own attire. Seeing her so clean brings a smile to his face but also hurt into his heart. She looks so much like a Capitolite, but she is so far from them beneath her skin.
"So where are we going today birthday girl?"
