the sword /avriel

Avriel jolts awake, his hand landing hard against the scar in his shoulder to quell the bleeding there. His eyes widen, gaze struggling to bring the ceiling of his Capitol apartment’s bedroom into focus. Phantom blood evaporates as quickly as the nightmare that woke him. Beside him Eden turns, a hand falls on Avriel’s where it rests over his heart. Eden’s fingers fold over his palm, soft against his callused skin.

He turns his head to check but Eden's already shut his eyes again. He’s so used to Avriel’s restlessness at this point he can calm him half-asleep.

Av waits for a few moments, then slips out from under Eden’s hand carefully, laying it reverently on the pillow where his head just was. He can never fall back asleep right after a dream like that. The digital clock on Eden’s side of the bed tells him it’s approaching one in the morning, still relatively early. Maybe if he goes for a walk then he can tire himself out again.

When Avriel enters the living room, Scout lifts its head up from its spot on the couch and makes a soft whistling sound.

"Yeah," he says softly, "Walkies."

The Kodama bounces up, a jingling sound as if there is a bell around its neck comes tumbling out from its mouth.

"Hey, shhh," Av whispers as he pulls on his shoes, "You’re going to wake everyone up."

Scout goes silent mid-jingle and then hurries off the couch to join Avriel at the door to the apartment. It jumps up to reach the handle before ignoring the laws of gravity to float slowly back down to the floor like a leaf.

Strange that to Avriel, a creature like Scout has become as common as a cat.

His hand falls on the door handle and Avriel goes still. Scout bumbles into the door impatiently but he doesn’t move.

The handle is warm.

Not burning, just warmer than it should be. His hand has pushed down on this handle so many times, he knows subconsciously how it should feel. This time it feels wrong, like something, vaguely, is off.

Avriel looks over his shoulder, into the darkness of the apartment. He feels a tug in his chest, like the red string that ties him to Eden is urging him back. The walk would be better with him there. Maybe he could talk about it all then, about the things he’s never said that wake him up at night.

He turns, then leans his forehead against the door. Eden already had his sleep broken up enough by him. It’s something that they could talk about later but Avriel never does. In the daylight, the dreams almost seem silly. Everything bad happens at night, it always happens in the dark.

He pulls the door open, Scout slips out through the slimmest crack as soon as it forms and Avriel shuts his eyes, hand shaking, still held fast to the door handle.

Scout makes a soft whistling sound and Av doesn’t budge. He can hear his heart in his ears, it’s pounding so fast. His head swims, he has to hold on the door to stay standing. A soft breeze moves through his hair, tousling it softly, bringing the scent of pine.

Scout chirps again, insistent and a tear rolls down Avriel’s cheek, pools at the bottom of his chin and drips onto his t-shirt.

He opens his eyes.

Scout stands a couple feet in front of him, inner light pulsing softly in the inky darkness. It hits the tree trunks lining the path in front of them, cuts past the jagged bark and ends abruptly at the foot of tangled roots.

”Please,” he whispers, then shuffles backwards.

He woke up already.

This shouldn’t be happening, he’s already awake now.

”Come on, really?” he says, voice cracking with half a laugh. It’s getting ridiculous at this point, ”Again?”

Scout hops from foot to foot, impatient with him. The kodama knows where to go, Avriel doesn’t. It chirps and goes a few paces down the path before turning around to come and tug at the leg of his shorts.

Av leans against the doorframe of the apartment and stares into the empty dark. There’s nothing to see after the area of Scout’s light ends. It’s just blackest black. That was always the wild part of it, it wasn’t night, it was nothing. It was purgatory and that’s what they all lived in, those of them that were left.

”Where you gonna take me?” he asks, ”Areto this time?”

Or maybe it’s just straight to Aspen for another spear in the chest. He winces on reflex, pushing his palm hard into the scar.

Scout rattles in response.

Avriel sighs, ”Let’s go then, get it over with.”

And it’s different.

Like the warm door handle, it’s all off. There’s weight under his feet, of matter. Time moves fluid, seconds follow each other, one after the other. His mouth is dry, tongue heavy in his throat, sticking to the roof of his mouth like sand.

His foot is there, but not.

It’s the one they gave him, not his, held on loosely with the roll of duct tape he had at the bottom of his bag. He knows this because the change in weight was always odd. It took getting used to, for a while he loped along when he walked. Sometimes he still takes it off to sleep.

And this is that foot, attached at the ankle, slightly heavier than his other.

They walk for a long time. The trees tower around them, sleeping giants, but there is no sound. In the arena, that left with the stars. Avriel’s footfalls echo in the dark and Scout’s comforting rattles bounce off the trunks they pass.

Nothing changes for a long time. Time creeps slow, infinite, and fear catches up quietly, lays a hand on his shoulder. When he dreams, Areto’s fire always appears sooner than this.

He stops abruptly.

”When is this?” he asks.

”It’s now.”

”What do you mean?” he asks, politely.

”He can’t come with you this time, Avriel, I’m sorry.”

Gloria leans against the back of the stage, her expression slightly pained. Strangely enough, he believes that she is. In her own way, maybe she does care for him. Or maybe it’s just the fact that last year he was better behaved with Eden there.

”He needs to come,” he says.

”They won’t allow it darling, I really am sorry,” she says, gaze flicking down to the watch on her wrist, before coming back up to rest on him. He hates it when she looks at him like that, like he’s still some pathetic child.

Avriel smiles politely, ”You don’t understand, I’m not asking.”

”Look, I’ve been told to inform you that while out of respect for your position last year they chose to let your transgression slide, Victors are limited to dependants and legal partners and that’s that.”

Gloria looks pointedly down at his ring finger and Avriel’s brow furrows. He slips his hand into the pocket of the mid-length pleated leather skirt Laffy put him in this morning. He finds the rings in there, warm from his body heat. He finished making them almost three years ago.

”He will be,” Avriel says.

Gloria arches a brow. Panem’s anthem starts playing over the loud speakers, the reaping is about to start. Avriel stares back at Gloria, eyes on her shoulder.

”That only works if you mean it,” she says curtly.

”I do,” he says and pulls his hand out of his pocket in a fist, fingers closed tight around the rings. He’s never shown them to anyone. He thinks that Eden should be the first to see them.

”I’m gonna ask him in the Capitol.”

Gloria’s eyes widen slowly, then her face cracks open in delight, ”Oh you wonderful boy,” she shouts to be heard over the swelling notes of the anthem, ”That’s a fantastic idea, we’ll televise it.”

”What? No, I-“

”You!” Gloria says, turning sharply to snap at a peacekeeper standing near the entrance to backstage, ”Go find that sad looking mutt of a man victor Baptiste dragged along last year, get him loaded on the train.”

”That’s not… it didn’t happen like that.”

”What didn’t?” his brother asks.

But he’s only half-listening, pressing uncooked dough into the bottom of a pie pan. Avriel drops the screwdriver onto the kitchen table in front of him, it clatters against the wood, then bounces once before landing on the tile at his feet.

”Duke?” he whispers.

There’s an apron tied around Duke’s waist, flour still somehow on the neckline of the shirt that he wore in his school photos. He’s taller now, shoulders filled out. A lump forms in the back of Avriel’s throat. He’s grown so much. The curve of his jaw reminds him of their father.

”How did it happen then?” Duke asks. He picks up a mixing bowl and starts spooning fruit, apples in a syrupy sauce, into the pie pan.

Their father’s watch lies on the kitchen table in front of him, in neat little rows of pieces organised by use and size. This is how they used to spend Sunday mornings.

Avriel turns his head.

The world outside of the window is a black void.

”Av.”

He looks back up at his little brother.

"I-“ he starts, then stops.

Hands shaking, he clenches them tight into fists, drops his gaze again, he can’t look at him.

”I bought your school pictures,” he says, ”Got the good ones with the blue background because you looked so damned grown up but couldn’t resist and got the dorky one too where they made you pose with the books, I’m sorry.”

"I know."

He freezes, hand stuck mid-polish on the knife in his lap.

Avriel looks up at her, firelight bounces off of her cheek, catches in the corner of her eye, reflecting.

There are shadows under her eyes, dirt smudged on her nose, her curls are a tangled mess at the nape of her neck. Areto still somehow looks beautiful.

Then his gaze shifts down to the blade sticking out of her chest, right where her heart should be. He says nothing, he can’t, but his mouth opens, then closes and another tear trails slowly down his cheek.

”I-“

Areto gives him a half-hearted smile. "I did this," she says, "You know that."

His hand raises shakily, then his fingers brush against the handle of his knife. He feels the patterned metal beneath his fingertips, it's warm to the touch.

Areto reaches out and flicks the end of his nose.

Avriel blinks, then pulls back.

"So that's enough now,” she whispers.

”Enough?” he asks.

”I don’t want to be your bad dream anymore.”

His gaze falls back to the knife, shame blooms slowly on his cheeks and Avriel grimaces, ”I’d make the dreams stop if I could.”

”That only works if you mean it.”

The anthem is ending.

Avriel blinks, disoriented. His hand opens, then closes in front of him. Velvet curtain brushes against his cheek.

”Hello? Earth to Avriel,” the escort snaps her fingers in front of his face, ”We need to get on stage.”

”I- We did this already,” he says. He looks over his shoulder. Peacekeepers stand at the bottom of the steps leading up to the stage, erected yearly for the reaping. Storm’s getting one last look over from Zen a couple of feet away. ”Where’s-“

”He’s in One.”

The crowd goes silent.

Gloria’s brow furrows slightly in concern. ”Avriel, you already knew this.”

”No,” he whispers, mouth dry.

Something close to pity runs over Gloria’s face. ”You must remember darling, when you-“

He slips his hand into his pocket. It’s empty.

”Where’d the ring go?” he asks softly, eyes on anything but hers.

Gloria says nothing for a long moment, just gazes at him quietly before reaching down to take his empty hand. Her skin is warm against his, she squeezes lightly, just once.

”You need to open your eyes,” she says.

Then there’s a hand on his back, pushing, Gloria is turning, she smiles and waves out at the district as she walks out onto the stage. Avriel stumbles backwards, resisting. Storm moves past Avriel, eyes trained on the bowl of names.

He moves clumsy down the stairs, his foot is numb, every step is pain, makes it hard to think. The tape around his ankle stretches his skin, stinging. It tickles a little but he can’t touch it. Touching it is agony.

He breathes funny, ragged. It’s been a long time since he ate anything, longer probably since he actually slept. Scout bounces along ahead of him, making a game of jumping from root to root. Av can’t let the Kodama get too far ahead.

”Eden!” he calls out hoarsely, ”Where are you?”

But his hand is wrapped around one of his throwing knives. His shirt is stiff, scratching against his skin from all the blood in the fabric. It’s too soon for Eden, that doesn’t happen until after the arena.

On the balcony, five more minutes.

”You made it all up.”

”What?”

Billie stares at him across the diner table. There’s a plate of fries between them, mostly untouched. Avriel glances down at them, then turns to look at the rest of the room. The lights are all off, Dale’s doesn’t open for another hour but they needed somewhere to meet.

Her graduation sash is still around her neck.

”…Bills?” he whispers.

”Avriel, wake up,” she says impatiently.

He sits back against the booth seating, brow furrowed. He places his hands down on the vinyl, presses down slightly. It’s warm, solid, like he’s been sitting there with his estranged sister for some time. It doesn’t make sense though, he remembers going to Billie’s graduation but he also remembers getting on the train right after.

”How did you know I was in Six?“

”You’re not,” she shakes her head, ”You know that already.”

Avriel says nothing for a long moment. He picks up a fry, salt gets into a cut on his finger and he winces slightly before putting it back down. ”Yeah,” he says, ”I know.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s awkward, seeing her again so close. It’s a strange hit of nostalgia mixed with a stinging sensation under the surface of his skin. Except she’s not even here, neither is he.

The world past the diner window is a black void. The both of them stare into it in silence. A faucet drips rhythmically somewhere behind the counter.

”So then what is all this?” he asks eventually.

”Dunno,” Billie says, ”Maybe you’re dying.”

”Your life is supposed to flash before your eyes isn’t it?”

”Maybe this is your life.”

”This,” he says, gesturing between the two of them, ”Never happened. Yeah, I was here, but we didn’t meet. I watched you graduate, I went home.”

”Unreliable narrator,” she says calmly.

”What?”

”I said-“

”I heard you.”

Avriel’s knee starts to bounce beneath the table.

"I just think you have to come to your senses," Billie says after another pause. Then she flicks a fry at him. It goes sliding across the table and lands in his lap. The corner of her lip lifts slightly, "That's a point."

"I'v been trying," he says, then crosses his arms. "I need to find Eden."

"He's gone," she says.

Avriel stares at her. First Gloria, now Billie.

"What do you mean gone?"

"You were awake when they came to collect you," she says, "Out in the hall. They took Eden while you were gone."

Avriel turns his head to his right. The pillow is empty beside him. He breathes in sharply, tries to sit up, then falls back again. "Fwa?" he asks. His body is folding, head connected to his torso by a string, duct tape wrapped around the base of his neck, keeping his head on until they can reattach it.

A hand finds his chest, pushes back gently, "Shh, you're safe." But the voice is strange, he doesn't know it. Billie is gone, so is the diner. Scout isn't anywhere, hiding maybe. That's good.

He grabs at the hand, wrapping his tightly around the stranger's wrist and squeezing.

"Fuck's sake," says the voice.

"He can't handle anymore, that's two doses already," warns a new one.

"Then how the hell is he still this strong?"

"Says in his file he needed a larger dose of anaesthesia in his post-games surgery than most."

"Addict?"

"Just naturally resistant."

"Ow, fuck! Let go!"

Avriel does, hand sliding away to fall open against the mattress. There are two blurry shapes above him, masks over their faces. He smiles weakly, they look stupid as hell.

"Eden," he mumbles, "Where?"

The shapes stare down at him for a beat.

"Fuck it," says the second one.

Something's pushed onto Avriel's face. He raises a hand off the bed and someone's grabbing it, pushing it back down. Then there's smoke forming against his mouth. He presses his lips closed against it, squirming, a hand pinches his nose, closing the airways, he can't breathe.

Avriel gasps, smoke fills his lungs, he's choking on it, body sinking further and further down. Darkness envelopes him, the arena, it's swallowing him, after all this time, it found him. He claws at the air, fights it.

It's not enough.

It's got him.