and we lay in our ruin | pixel-volt lineage

She'd always been the most headstrong of the family, so falling into the rebellion was almost natural for her. Why be good when it wasn't good enough, when it wasn't good for her to be good? No. She'd be the bad guy. And she'd be damn great at it.

The first time she (indirectly) caused someone's death, she felt energized. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her body as she rushed away from the scene, laughter bubbling up from her chest almost maniacally. And then she'd remember that who she killed had been human too, albeit a human from the Capitol, the worst entity to exist, and all the excitement would drain from her body. She was a murderer. She was no better than them. But she was a damn good fighter, and she'd keep fighting.

Alexander died sooner than she had expected. Aine had almost looked forward to returning to a bunker somewhere and finding her brother, one of her best friends, there to greet her. But he was gone. He set the tone for her journey. She'd likely die too, or get arrested. Aine quickly learned that she'd never wish war on anyone. But she couldn't will herself to leave.

Over time, she became more withdrawn and only interacted with her fellow rebels as necessary. Exchange supplies, talk about plans, that was it. When they asked about her family, her old self would break through and start sharing as much as possible, but then she'd remember where she was and stop. This was no place for sentimentality.

She soon caught wind of the fact that her youngest brother, Ambrose, had entered the war. When she heard the news, she merely told her companion to pass her another drink and downed it without speaking another word. There was no need to have a conversation about it. What would happen, would happen.

She knew she probably appeared heartless on the exterior, but there was truly nothing that Aine could do about it. Was she afraid for him? Yes. But fear would not be enough to coax him, to coax anyone out of fighting. Ambrose had free will, and so did she, hence her decision to stay far, far away from him. It would be best for both of them if he didn't watch her die, and that he lived to see their future.

She'd never imagined dying at 18. She thought she'd be able to live a little longer, see the world. But sometimes life didn't turn out the way one expected it to. She should've known better.

She wrote and destroyed letters to Ambrose any chance she got. She apologized, told him to trust her, told him to be brave, and then tore her words to shreds. She didn't know what to say to her family when she had changed so much, when they had changed so much. On the night before her final mission, she wrote letters to Aisling and Ambrose, sealed them, and didn't destroy them. She sent them in the morning.

She'd never know if they reached their destination.

To say that she had been adopted into the Pixel family would be a stretching of the truth, as most of the family had already been gone once she fell into Ambrose's arms. But to her, their little family of two had been enough. To be able to have someone to hold at night and someone to soothe her with platitudes was more than enough, more than enough to keep her from launching herself into the electric fence that surrounded Three. But within the span of ten years, Katherine had become an even bigger walking tragedy than she already was.

She had become accustomed to the idea of calling herself Katherine Pixel. It was the name she wanted to have. She wanted to have a living, breathing name, not the name of a family who was gone. But here she was, Katherine Angstrom, a widow to a man she never got to marry, a 21-year-old orphan, and a goddamn disaster. The Capitol killed everything. They killed her parents, her boyfriend, her chance at having more people to love, her ability to love at all. They killed her.

Whenever she thought of her past life, it felt like watching someone who wasn't her. She first met Ambrose when he was six and she was seven. They weren't in the same year at school, and she would tease him for being a baby. He'd pout and protest but go right back to smiling thirty seconds later. She'd furrow her brow and wonder how he did that, and smile later on when she thought of it. They had always been friends, but it wasn't until the war broke out that they became more aware of each other's presences, and the possibility of one of them disappearing.

Katherine never considered herself a rebel. She would squabble and poke fun at people, maybe complain in private, but she was always too afraid to start a real fight. What would the consequences be? Who would she hurt? She couldn't fathom the thought. She'd peer out the kitchen windows in fright until her parents came along and shut the blinds.

Then it happened.

Two years after the war began, her parents ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and then they would never end up in the wrong place or the right place ever again. And Katherine was alone. Until Ambrose came along.

They fell together quickly and almost out of convenience, but Katherine clung to him like she clung to no one else. She pondered whether she should continue on her journey alone, whether it was worth it to become attached to someone who could die in a moment's notice, but she'd choose Ambrose every time, and he would choose her.

Before the first Games, she had been so certain of herself.

Before, she didn't question whether it was selfish to have children. She had wanted a son, to name him Angstrom Pixel. It would be the perfect combination, she'd blab excitedly to Ambrose, since he'd be a combination of both of us, and all. Ambrose would chuckle and kiss her forehead, telling her how silly she was even though she knew he wanted it, too.

Before, she was certain she'd get her happy ending and Ambrose would live. But he survived the war only to die in another and dammit, Katherine was tired. She was so fucking tired. She needed someplace to just be.

When Aisling opened her doors to Katherine, she accepted the offer before she knew what she was doing. She tried to be a good guest. She smiled even when it felt impossible. She kept out of the way when she felt her presence wasn't needed, walking down the gray streets of her old neighborhood and wishing things were different. She spent time with Aisling and her husband and little Cameron Volt, selfishly wishing that this child who had no relation to her had been her and Ambrose's son instead. She cried into the pillow that she had taken from Ambrose's bed, from their bed. She chastised herself. She thanked Ripred that she was alive, that she had a home, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thanks for nothing.

After about a year of living with the Volts, Katherine quietly excused herself. Packed her shit in the middle of the night, left a note and got out. She couldn't bear to stay there anymore, to be a burden to people that she wasn't even happy being around. She considered death but knew that Ambrose would have wanted her to live.

She had been so angry at him when he told her to stay out of it, that he bestowed upon her the same words that he lamented so much during the course of their relationship. But she now understood that he only meant to stay out of his fight - there was no need for her to avoid her own.

And so Katherine Angstrom, Katherine Pixel, the nameless, the dead, walked away from everything she once knew in search of something she didn't. Unlike Ambrose, she had no need to become a martyr.

She only wanted to be a survivor.