you knew the heroes died, | team titans, day six
Nov 23, 2021 21:41:00 GMT -5
Post by d7f amber bosch 🌿 tris on Nov 23, 2021 21:41:00 GMT -5
so what's the movie for?
x
Terribly, her intentions are good.
Perhaps goodness is a blade — staring down at a wound that doesn't bleed, reaching to remove a pain that doesn't even exist. Her grief, and her rage, are intangible things. There is no way to run from them. She blinks back tears, swallows a sob that echoes without sound. Ringing. Under all of the tragedy, there is music. Under the ash, her friends lie buried.
And the memories, too.
Her intentions are good.
Aneesa's breaths are shallow, and Sasha has already packed up the vehicle. The stars are still dim in the sky, and Cecily's courage is still taller than anything that could ever stand in her way. And yet, standing by Gavin, she feels small. In the kindest way, in the way that she wants to pull him into her embrace, and make some joke that will erase the horrors.
But she can't think of anything. There's still blood on her hands.
And the only thought she can grasp is the urgency to run. To take her friends, and to try to stop something inevitable. It's like she walking's across a graveyard where their bodies are resting, like she has Gavin's soul by the shoulders, like they've reached the ending before she ever got the chance to fight for the beginning. It's unfair. It will always be unfair.
"I get to ask for this one thing, Gavin, and you have to agree. Just this once." She should have heard the bullet clicking into place. She should have felt the weight of it in her hand. "And I swear, I'll never ask you for anything again. And the best part," her breath catches, voice breaking, and she inhales the bravery trying to leave her.
"Is that if I'm wrong, you get to say you told me so. Always."
"But I can't just stand here and wait for Aneesa to die. We're running out of time." Her hands close into fists in the space between them, clutching emptiness. "I know I'm reckless, and one day it's going to bite me in the ass, but I refuse to do nothing." She turns on her heels, scooping up her bag from where it lies on the ground.
She faces him once more, unzipping the backpack to reveal the contents within. A jar of tar, and a mass of wires and mechanical parts. Bullets from Laurence's gun — gunpowder. And a horrible truth. A realization. "I'm going to run away again." She speaks quietly, but with all the force of a wildfire. Let the world watch her burn.
Let them know her fear.
"And I'm bringing you all with me." She closes her eyes to trap her tears before they can fall, zipping the bag closed and shrugging it over her shoulder. "They aren't going to keep us here. They don't get to take you all away from me." Looking down, she stares at Aneesa's dried blood on her skin, and her lip trembles. "I don't want us to die."
Flashback.
Gavin's holding her hand on the rooftop, and they both know the forcefield will just throw them back. But they're already there, and escape is a beautiful dream, so they might as well jump. Beau has her in his arms, there's a gap in the fence, and the peacekeepers haven't reached them yet. All of those choices have still lead her here. To the present.
To this moment in the dying hours of night, where the sun threatens to rise over the horizon at any moment. But the clouds are thick and dark, and the rain falls without concern for the words it tries to steal. These final promises, and betrayals, sheltered by the cage she so desperately wants to break free from. She pulls Gavin close, and she tricks herself.
Because she smiles against his shoulder, and when she speaks, she believes herself. "We're escaping." Thunder roars as a streak of lightning lights up behind the clouds, almost as if hushing her. "Right now. The Capitol doesn't get to win." They survive. They make it out. Aneesa's wound stops bleeding, and they never have to feel the vibration of a cannon ever again. They get to stop fearing the stars, and the faces that appear.
She pulls back, resting her palm against his cheek. "That's why we came here." Her eyes lift to the research tower, looking worse for wear days after their fight with the creatures within. "The forcefield is close. I tracked it." She bits her lip, now a little nervous that she has to put all of her hope into a spoken thing. It's difficult to share.
"I'm going to set off an explosion," she nods over her shoulder to her bag and the makeshift bomb clearly visible through her backpack, "and the three of you will drive right through. I'll follow." She takes a step back, puts distance between him before he can get the chance to make her be rational. In her mind, she is making perfect sense. If they don't do this, then they all die. She dares to believe that she has any say in fate.
"Go meet them. And don't fight me on this. It's happening." Her chest tightens, knowing she'll never be able to get an equal vote for her own self destruction. Aneesa's words are so soft, and quiet, that she can't sense of them anymore. Sasha will do anything to save the dying girl, and deep down, Cecily knows that she is the only true supporter of this decision.
Her decision.
Regrettably, she makes her peace with that. It digs into her fingers like thorns. But the flowers at her wake are beautiful, and the rain is falling so hard now that it's hard not to be exhilarated. "I'll see you on the other side, Gav." And like reliving a thousand memories, she runs off into the unknown, so desperately certain that she is right. That she can be free, and safe, and not be haunted for the rest of her life.
However long she might have left of it.
The minutes pass, lullabied by her footfalls and the strain of her breathing. The trees grow thinner the closer she gets, the sturdy earth giving way to slick, saturated ground. The rain seems to be crashing down even harder here, falling so hard that Cecily has to narrow her eyes to glare at the seemingly empty stretch of land before her. It goes on forever.
And yet, almost like a trick of the eye, she can see the refraction of light moving across the surface. Blinking in unison with the pattering of rainfall. She gasps in relief, smiling at the barrier standing between her and freedom, like it's an old friend. There's no time to sit with the feeling, in the distance she can already hear the low hum of an engine.
Removing the device from her backpack, she rolls it forward until it reaches an invisible obstacle and starts to vibrate under her fingertips. One inch closer, and she's sure it will be thrown back against her. She removes her hand with a slow exhale, unscrewing the jar of tar and pouring a small amount of it across the object. Careful to keep the wires exposed. She removes her canteen, containing the small mound of gunpowder she salvaged.
Dusting it on top of the makeshift explosive, knowing full well she's not nearly smart enough to be doing something so sensitive, but willing to do anything that might give them a chance. As long as the blast is big enough. That's all that matters. Headlights pour over her shoulder — and between her fingertips, she pulls a wire away from the bulk of the parts. A fuse.
Bending her body over her last hope, fingers shaking, she tries to shield it from the downpour of rain. She can hear the vehicle approaching, tires screeching against the friction of mud, growing closer and closer until facing the end doesn't feel quite as inevitable. It feels like it's already happening, like she has finally run out of time and has to make her decision.
She looks up, through the forcefield, pretends that she can see the outline of Beau standing just on the other side. And she's lying to herself, she knows, but she can't quite make her peace with the way she gave up on him. The forest was a sprint away, so many possibilities she hadn't yet considered, and she turned away from it with her hands in the air.
"I'll see you on the other side," she echoes under her breath, glaring down at the wire and the shard of flint in her grasp. She pictures their faces, the sunlight waiting just beyond their reach, and how they deserve to never fear the night again. She wants to give them that. She drags the stone across the exposed wires, holding herself in place just long enough for a flame to spark, to start inching so dangerously close to the tar that she's scared she might not be able to run away in time.
But she can't risk the rain.
Only until it's almost two late, she jumps to her feet, grabbing her bag in selfish hands and sprinting away as fast as she can, so terrified of the blast and so desperate to hear it erupt behind her. She stops sooner than she should, like Icarus unable to win the battle with his own pride. She stares at the strange object, the dying flame, and the pool of tar seeping into everything. Like a dark stain.
She turns her head to the side, catching sight of Sasha's face just a short distance away from her, staring through the car window. Cecily holds her gaze for a long moment, heartbeat trapped in her throat, so many inspiring words that she cannot say over the hiss of rain. It'd be nice to hear them. To believe.
Her defeated tears are about to fall when the bomb finally detonates — throwing her back right as a great fissure opens up like a cut across the sky, a strange mix of natural and artificial light that almost blinds her in the most glorious way. Even as she thuds breathlessly against the earth, blinking in a daze, she feels at peace. She's able to crane her head up after a brief pause, ears ringing louder than ever before, colorful spots obscuring her vision. And she looks on with a smile as her friends start to pass through the forcefield.
She wonders what it looks like on the other side. Her hope escapes her.
And as quickly as it goes, she watches in terror as everything — all of those dreams, and all of those fears — are swallowed by a merciless wall of flames.
x
Terribly, her intentions are good.
Perhaps goodness is a blade — staring down at a wound that doesn't bleed, reaching to remove a pain that doesn't even exist. Her grief, and her rage, are intangible things. There is no way to run from them. She blinks back tears, swallows a sob that echoes without sound. Ringing. Under all of the tragedy, there is music. Under the ash, her friends lie buried.
And the memories, too.
Her intentions are good.
Aneesa's breaths are shallow, and Sasha has already packed up the vehicle. The stars are still dim in the sky, and Cecily's courage is still taller than anything that could ever stand in her way. And yet, standing by Gavin, she feels small. In the kindest way, in the way that she wants to pull him into her embrace, and make some joke that will erase the horrors.
But she can't think of anything. There's still blood on her hands.
And the only thought she can grasp is the urgency to run. To take her friends, and to try to stop something inevitable. It's like she walking's across a graveyard where their bodies are resting, like she has Gavin's soul by the shoulders, like they've reached the ending before she ever got the chance to fight for the beginning. It's unfair. It will always be unfair.
"I get to ask for this one thing, Gavin, and you have to agree. Just this once." She should have heard the bullet clicking into place. She should have felt the weight of it in her hand. "And I swear, I'll never ask you for anything again. And the best part," her breath catches, voice breaking, and she inhales the bravery trying to leave her.
"Is that if I'm wrong, you get to say you told me so. Always."
Always.
"But I can't just stand here and wait for Aneesa to die. We're running out of time." Her hands close into fists in the space between them, clutching emptiness. "I know I'm reckless, and one day it's going to bite me in the ass, but I refuse to do nothing." She turns on her heels, scooping up her bag from where it lies on the ground.
She faces him once more, unzipping the backpack to reveal the contents within. A jar of tar, and a mass of wires and mechanical parts. Bullets from Laurence's gun — gunpowder. And a horrible truth. A realization. "I'm going to run away again." She speaks quietly, but with all the force of a wildfire. Let the world watch her burn.
Let them know her fear.
"And I'm bringing you all with me." She closes her eyes to trap her tears before they can fall, zipping the bag closed and shrugging it over her shoulder. "They aren't going to keep us here. They don't get to take you all away from me." Looking down, she stares at Aneesa's dried blood on her skin, and her lip trembles. "I don't want us to die."
Flashback.
Gavin's holding her hand on the rooftop, and they both know the forcefield will just throw them back. But they're already there, and escape is a beautiful dream, so they might as well jump. Beau has her in his arms, there's a gap in the fence, and the peacekeepers haven't reached them yet. All of those choices have still lead her here. To the present.
To this moment in the dying hours of night, where the sun threatens to rise over the horizon at any moment. But the clouds are thick and dark, and the rain falls without concern for the words it tries to steal. These final promises, and betrayals, sheltered by the cage she so desperately wants to break free from. She pulls Gavin close, and she tricks herself.
Because she smiles against his shoulder, and when she speaks, she believes herself. "We're escaping." Thunder roars as a streak of lightning lights up behind the clouds, almost as if hushing her. "Right now. The Capitol doesn't get to win." They survive. They make it out. Aneesa's wound stops bleeding, and they never have to feel the vibration of a cannon ever again. They get to stop fearing the stars, and the faces that appear.
She pulls back, resting her palm against his cheek. "That's why we came here." Her eyes lift to the research tower, looking worse for wear days after their fight with the creatures within. "The forcefield is close. I tracked it." She bits her lip, now a little nervous that she has to put all of her hope into a spoken thing. It's difficult to share.
"I'm going to set off an explosion," she nods over her shoulder to her bag and the makeshift bomb clearly visible through her backpack, "and the three of you will drive right through. I'll follow." She takes a step back, puts distance between him before he can get the chance to make her be rational. In her mind, she is making perfect sense. If they don't do this, then they all die. She dares to believe that she has any say in fate.
"Go meet them. And don't fight me on this. It's happening." Her chest tightens, knowing she'll never be able to get an equal vote for her own self destruction. Aneesa's words are so soft, and quiet, that she can't sense of them anymore. Sasha will do anything to save the dying girl, and deep down, Cecily knows that she is the only true supporter of this decision.
Her decision.
Regrettably, she makes her peace with that. It digs into her fingers like thorns. But the flowers at her wake are beautiful, and the rain is falling so hard now that it's hard not to be exhilarated. "I'll see you on the other side, Gav." And like reliving a thousand memories, she runs off into the unknown, so desperately certain that she is right. That she can be free, and safe, and not be haunted for the rest of her life.
However long she might have left of it.
She will fight for every second.
The minutes pass, lullabied by her footfalls and the strain of her breathing. The trees grow thinner the closer she gets, the sturdy earth giving way to slick, saturated ground. The rain seems to be crashing down even harder here, falling so hard that Cecily has to narrow her eyes to glare at the seemingly empty stretch of land before her. It goes on forever.
And yet, almost like a trick of the eye, she can see the refraction of light moving across the surface. Blinking in unison with the pattering of rainfall. She gasps in relief, smiling at the barrier standing between her and freedom, like it's an old friend. There's no time to sit with the feeling, in the distance she can already hear the low hum of an engine.
Removing the device from her backpack, she rolls it forward until it reaches an invisible obstacle and starts to vibrate under her fingertips. One inch closer, and she's sure it will be thrown back against her. She removes her hand with a slow exhale, unscrewing the jar of tar and pouring a small amount of it across the object. Careful to keep the wires exposed. She removes her canteen, containing the small mound of gunpowder she salvaged.
Dusting it on top of the makeshift explosive, knowing full well she's not nearly smart enough to be doing something so sensitive, but willing to do anything that might give them a chance. As long as the blast is big enough. That's all that matters. Headlights pour over her shoulder — and between her fingertips, she pulls a wire away from the bulk of the parts. A fuse.
Bending her body over her last hope, fingers shaking, she tries to shield it from the downpour of rain. She can hear the vehicle approaching, tires screeching against the friction of mud, growing closer and closer until facing the end doesn't feel quite as inevitable. It feels like it's already happening, like she has finally run out of time and has to make her decision.
She looks up, through the forcefield, pretends that she can see the outline of Beau standing just on the other side. And she's lying to herself, she knows, but she can't quite make her peace with the way she gave up on him. The forest was a sprint away, so many possibilities she hadn't yet considered, and she turned away from it with her hands in the air.
"I'll see you on the other side," she echoes under her breath, glaring down at the wire and the shard of flint in her grasp. She pictures their faces, the sunlight waiting just beyond their reach, and how they deserve to never fear the night again. She wants to give them that. She drags the stone across the exposed wires, holding herself in place just long enough for a flame to spark, to start inching so dangerously close to the tar that she's scared she might not be able to run away in time.
But she can't risk the rain.
And she can't fail. Not again.
Only until it's almost two late, she jumps to her feet, grabbing her bag in selfish hands and sprinting away as fast as she can, so terrified of the blast and so desperate to hear it erupt behind her. She stops sooner than she should, like Icarus unable to win the battle with his own pride. She stares at the strange object, the dying flame, and the pool of tar seeping into everything. Like a dark stain.
She turns her head to the side, catching sight of Sasha's face just a short distance away from her, staring through the car window. Cecily holds her gaze for a long moment, heartbeat trapped in her throat, so many inspiring words that she cannot say over the hiss of rain. It'd be nice to hear them. To believe.
Her defeated tears are about to fall when the bomb finally detonates — throwing her back right as a great fissure opens up like a cut across the sky, a strange mix of natural and artificial light that almost blinds her in the most glorious way. Even as she thuds breathlessly against the earth, blinking in a daze, she feels at peace. She's able to crane her head up after a brief pause, ears ringing louder than ever before, colorful spots obscuring her vision. And she looks on with a smile as her friends start to pass through the forcefield.
It worked.
She wonders what it looks like on the other side. Her hope escapes her.
And as quickly as it goes, she watches in terror as everything — all of those dreams, and all of those fears — are swallowed by a merciless wall of flames.
