I Remember You Said // [Julian]

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 20, 2012 22:20:25 GMT -5

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jan 20, 2012 22:20:25 GMT -5

for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died

He'd been back in the Capitol for a handful of days, and it was better easier. Not better, but easier. He'd found that the right combination of sleep and exercise kept the tremors mostly at bay. There were certain times, though, when nothing short of a morphling drip would stop his hands from shaking. This was one of those times. He needed to actually be in the training center with his tributes, at least once, but he hadn't been able to handle the thought of actually going through the doors and meeting the ghosts on the other side.

It was time to stop being such a pussy, though, so he hardened his mind and before breakfast rode in the elevator all the way down. He stood directly in front of the blinking lights, refused to think about the hard metal railing, the fall of her hair, the soft give of her flesh. Of course he thought about Charas, here, but then he also thought about her sword, of the bright glint of metal in the pink snow. And suddenly he was there again, kneeling, quaking and clinging in his vigil. Alone in all the world.

The elevator doors had started to close again when Mace grabbed one and pushed it back. He was going to do this. His tributes needed his advice, and he needed to give them something more than what had been given to him - which was pretty much nothing. He'd walked into that training center blind, with knowledge of cows and herding. That had come in handy, in the end, but he hadn't even known what to look for in allies.

And then Denver, Aesop and Alexander had found him, and for awhile, things had been good between The Bros. He wondered, if he'd had a better mentor, if he would have guided Mace to Midas, or Arden, or maybe even Charas and her ferocity. He doubted anyone would have recommended Alexander, and then he would have never known her. Phoebe. He held her name deep inside, let it beat in his heart. No, he could not have gone his whole life without knowing her, even for those few days. So maybe he shouldn't give his tributes much advice, or any at all.

This brought Mace up just short of the doors to the training center. He could turn around, go back to his room, be absolved. Maybe they would have his luck. Ridiculous. That was a stupid notion to even entertain. Mace turned the handle, and found that the center wasn't as empty as he had hoped.

And indeed, it did contain a ghost.

He stood in the doorway awkwardly, one hand on the handle, the other shivering lightly at his side. He saw Julian, but he could no longer simply think of him as Midas' boyfriend, Midas who filled the whole Center with his presence. No. Now Mace thought of Julian as the reaper, the boy who had come to carry away Moore and Liliana. If Mace had any enemies in the Capitol, anyone to hate, it was surely Mr. Bryze. There was nothing to do about it; it wasn't as though Mace could ask him to die instead, not when he had already suffered so much. So he stood and stared a moment longer, and finally found a few words. "Sorry to see you again, Julian." His voice was rough, raw over the truth - because he would have preferred never to meet Julian Bryze again, to go on thinking he found a happy life with someone else.

Anything than seeing him here, on the short path to death.

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 20, 2012 23:29:13 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jan 20, 2012 23:29:13 GMT -5

Julian was actually growing bored in the training center. He’d been over most of the details covered at most booths long before he had set foot in the Capitol. The few that were new or held information his parents hadn’t covered, were all easy enough to grasp within his first day in the room. So to pass the time Julian had taken to mostly working out to make sure his body was in perfect shape upon his arena entrance, or if he was feeling slightly playful, he would scare a tribute from a lower district by showing them up at whatever station they may be at.

For now, though, he sat quietly atop the table at the blades booth as his blue eyes followed the moves of the select tributes he as at least slightly weary of. He had just finished a duel of swords with the trainer, and after embarrassingly bringing the Capitolite to his knees; Julian figured he’d lay low for a while.

In the quiet of moments like this, Julian couldn’t help but let his mind wander to Midas. He wondered what exactly he had done in his brief time in this room. How in Panem had he garnered a mere seven in training? He had to have been playing himself down, hadn’t he? Then again, Midas wasn’t the killer Julian was; he wasn’t ruthless, and pity came to him far easier. He was Julian’s perfect partner, adding compassion to a boy who would be heartless, where Julian sparked fire into a boy that could be spineless. He missed him.

He took in a deep breath as he heard someone approaching from behind him. He could tell by there footfalls that they were obviously approaching him; perhaps he was about to be scolded for the incident with the trainer… But no, it was a familiar voice that spoke. Mace Emberstatt, victor of the 59th annual Hunger Games. Midas’s Games…

Julian turned and his icy eyes slowly rose up and down Mace’s large frame, taking him all in. His hands were shivering as he stood there, and Julian couldn’t remember if they had been that way on the victory tour. After he had fully examined him, Julian looked up into his gray-blue eyes. There was an expression in them that was too genuine and painful for him to bear. He caught his breath for a moment and whipped his head around to face the open training area once more.

“Remember what I said about pitying me? ... Don’t,” Julian said flatly, looking at anything but Mace. He brought the fingers of his left hand up to touch his lips slightly; it was his own nervous habit. Something about the way Mace looked at him made Julian feel quite naked and vulnerable. “You shouldn’t be sorry to see me. This is what I wanted, you know.”

Last Edit: Jan 20, 2012 23:30:45 GMT -5 by pthalorarity

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 21, 2012 17:59:50 GMT -5

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jan 21, 2012 17:59:50 GMT -5

for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died

Face to face with the blonde boy, Mace found it difficult to hate him, or like him, or maybe he felt so much of both they canceled out. It was hard to get a grip on all of the conflicting emotions and logical bits of information about Julian Bryze. On the one hand, they ought to at least be friends, to be able to talk about Midas and Larae together, because to talk to anyone else about the dead tributes was to invoke that terrible, weighty pity. Mace wasn't the sort to talk about Larae, ever, but people sure wanted to talk at him about her. He was sick of it, and he suspected Julian felt the same way.

But they weren't in the training center now because of the dead tributes. They were both here because of the living. He hadn't come to the center to find Julian, but presented with the boy from Two, Mace couldn't help but think he ought to say something on the behalf of Liliana and Moore. He wouldn't beg or bargain for them; they would have to do that on their own terms. But maybe he could do something to aid them. But what?

And then he spoke, and Mace could not suppress the feeling that bubbled up from his stomach, from his core. He laughed, and it was harsh and foreign, a hacking sound enveloped in cobwebs. When had he last laughed? Had anything ever actually been funny?

"I don't pity you any more than I pity myself. That's not why I'm sorry to see you," he said, and took one deep breath to dispel the terrible cramping his abs, the residual laughter. "I've got two lives in my hands, and I'd rather not see you kill them. So I'm sorry to see you, you see, because if anyone's going to take out Moore and Liliana, I'd bet a whole herd that it's going to be you."

Mace talked as he moved forward, trying to get a casual look at and around Julian, to see what he had been practicing. It was probably cheating to be in here with him, when he was alone, checking out the competition. But maybe that's how he would help the tributes from Ten - not by appealing to Julian's sensitivity, but by giving them an insight into his fighting style. "You're good with close range weapons." Mace flicked his gaze upward, ready to catch Julian's reaction. It was more of a statement than a question.

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Last Edit: Jan 21, 2012 18:02:45 GMT -5 by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 21, 2012 18:36:03 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jan 21, 2012 18:36:03 GMT -5

Julian’s brows furrowed as Mace’s laughter echoed throughout the large training hall. What was so funny? Was he mocking him? No. Julian smiled as the truth touched Mace’s lips. He feared for his tributes. To be honest, Julian had not given his opponents from District 10 much thought. He had quickly dismissed most of the lower Districts as easy targets upon their arrival. Hearing their names though… attaching them to Mace…. Something began stirring inside of him, and he didn’t like the feeling. He quickly shoved it in that gaping hole where Midas still resided; this wasn’t a time for feelings of any sort other than brutality.

He lifted himself off the booth top and leapt to the floor smoothly before turning and looking Mace in the eyes. His expression was hardened once again and his gaze could freeze a burning coal. Without saying a word, Julian picked up a throwing knife and flung it to the targets against the opposing wall—bull’s eye, right on the forehead of the dummy. “And long range…”

Biting his lip for a moment, he slowly glided closer to Mace until Julian’s face was an inch away from his chest. He could feel the heat radiating from his large body, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Julian’s circulation was inherently bad and there was almost never a time when his touch didn’t feel like ice. He was as cold physically as he was internally. In his mind, it was another form of punishment for how terrible of a person he was. Midas was the warm one in physicality as well—the opposite of Julian in every way. He could remember nights in the harsh winters of District 2 when the only source of warmth that could truly keep him cozy was the heat of his body against Midas’s. He could have lost himself in this memory, but as his eyes flickered back open, the harsh reality of the boy who actually stood before him was all he could see. A boy who would have Julian dead. A boys who’s life meant Midas’s death.

Standing on his toes, Julian placed a hand on Mace’s shoulder as he spoke in his ear. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re playing at, Mace Emberstatt… You can gather as much info as you please on how I operate, but that won’t change the fate in store for the tributes of District 10.”

Last Edit: Jan 21, 2012 18:38:12 GMT -5 by pthalorarity

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 23, 2012 21:44:27 GMT -5

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jan 23, 2012 21:44:27 GMT -5

for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died

A knife tumbling through the air, end over end, graceful. Mace's hands, already at the level of his hips, twitched upward to his belt. No longer went for the set of knives that had lived there for a week, that had been his constant companions. But he couldn't quite help moving in that direct. Mace hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, grey eyes on the skewered target. Find your aim or harden your heart. Of all those he had killed, Dysis and Aesop spoke to him the most, although Aesop tended to be a little more abstract. Dysis almost always said the same thing.

And he still wasn't sure which one he should pick, which one he should follow through with. He hadn't bothered to practice with weapons at all since the Arena. If anything he was worse off than he'd been when he started - at least ranching had built up his prowess with the prod and whip. Now that he had abandoned that profession, would he be any good at all with a knife in hand? He wanted to try it, to find out. Because it would be easier to aim well than harden his heart.

The thought never came to fruition though, as Julian stalked towards him. He'd seen that look before, in the training center, a year ago. It had never been directed at him though, because no one had wanted to make an enemy out of Mace, at least not at the beginning. He'd been in plenty of fights in Ten though, although usually he was the one initiating it.

And what would the Capitol say if he roughed up one of the tributes - a favored Career at that? Mace was not so foolish to think his position unalterable. There had been too many injustices dealt in Ten to forget. His upper lip twitch, just as it had when he found out that Julian ~~fucking~~ Bryze had been reaped. It would have been so much better to meet Julian in the arena, than to never know Midas at all. Mace tucked his chin so that he could meet the gaze of the blonde tribute. He knew he should feel that spark, that first pulse of adrenaline before a fist was thrown. But it wasn't there - just an echo of a feeling, which essentially described his life since the 59th reaping.

"I didn't win by sitting on my ass, okay?" Mace reminded Julian, his gaze flickering over the top of his head to the dummies in the room. Mace very slowly, purposefully, folded his arms and took a step backward. "You want to take a swing at me? Fine, fucking do it. But Moore and Liliana are not the reason you're here, and they sure as shit ain't the reason Midas is dead. You don't even know what it's like to kill someone else. Their ghosts - you'll never be free.

[/color]"

Mace tensed, ready for what he had offered. He wasn't completely sure he had the restraint not to hit back, but he was digging, burrowing into his own stomach, looking for that man he'd been in the Caves. Calm, controlled - these things he had been, and so he needed to be again. "Don't make them haunt you, Julian. You got twenty-one other people to worry about, some of 'em Careers too. Just, don't." And finally Mace dragged his gaze away from the Center and back to Julian, no more tough and no more broken than he'd been when he entered the room, but changed somehow.

Mace was getting himself ready for another ending.[/size][/blockquote]

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 23, 2012 23:19:10 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jan 23, 2012 23:19:10 GMT -5

Julian was taken aback as Mace merely stood down. He was certain the victor who towered over him would have made at least some move of physical intimidation. In fact, that was precisely what Julian had wanted him to do. If Mace got right back in his face, it was easier for him to be strong and hateful to the world. The truth was, Mace horrified him. Being near him threatened to knock down walls that Julian had tediously built up since the loss of Midas. In truth, Julian hated himself for what he had become in the past year, but he viewed his self-hatred as another form of punishment that he was supposed to endure. After all, terrible people, meet terrible fates.

In spite of everything though… in spite of Julian’s threats against his tribute’s lives, Mace was still concerned for his wellbeing. His whole life, he had been trained to take down twenty-three lives without question. It was all a game, right? A game that took away Midas… He wondered for a moment if Mace’s words were true. Did his own parents face these demons? Had they simply not told him
? Once again, Mace was disarming Julian, and he doubted the former cattle rancher even realized it.

As he could see Mace tensing, bracing for the blow, a foreign expression crossed Julian’s face. It was something akin to a mixture of guilt and shame as his eyes softened under the gaze of Mace Emberstatt. He even looked slightly confused as he brought a hand up to his lips. “I…” Julian’s voice shook, “I wasn’t going to hit you.”

He blinked, wide eyed as his reflection peered back at him through Mace’s gray eyes. His skin tingled as somewhere deep in the pit of his heart, his emotions stirred in their cage that Julian had so meticulously locked them away in. He took a deep breath as he attempted to regain his icy composure, but though his words were frigid, his eyes couldn’t lie now. Sorrow and regret slithered out of their cage and peaked out through the windows of Julian’s eyes as he looked up at Mace. “You really shouldn’t worry about what is going to haunt me. Don’t you remember? Terrible people meet terrible fates… I’m only getting everything I deserve.”

Turning his back to Mace, Julian looked around the various stations of the room. At every booth, tributes were being taught methods to challenge him in the arena they would soon face. He brought his left hand to his lips and traced them with the tip of his forefinger as he turned back to Mace. Before he could stop himself, his words fumbled out of his mouth, “Do you hate me?” It was such a childish thing to ask, especially at such a time as training for a fight to the death. It shouldn’t have even mattered what Mace thought. Julian knew he wanted him dead so Liliana and Moore could survive… yet he asked anyway.

Last Edit: Jan 24, 2012 0:07:07 GMT -5 by pthalorarity

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 25, 2012 15:26:17 GMT -5

Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jan 25, 2012 15:26:17 GMT -5

for what it's worth, I have a slow disease that sucked me dry... I always aim to please
but I nearly died

Mace had never been particularly good at reading others, especially when it came to emotions. It was probably what had gotten him into so many wrestling and screaming matches with his brothers, who all seems to be more or less well adjusted, emotionally. So when Julian's face contorted, Mace wasn't sure what to make of it. He already had his arms crossed, his knees bent. Really there wasn't much of a better position to be in to take a hit. And while the tribute was small of stature, Mace had seen the graceful arch of his knife throw, and knew that he could pack a punch, if he wanted.

And then Mace realized he'd said the wrong thing. Again. His nostrils flared and he fought to avoid that sinking feeling, that disappointment in himself. Julian was clearly trying to tell him something, and Mace made himself focus. He wasn't in the habit of trusting words, as they so often betrayed him, but as Julian unraveled, Mace relaxed. As long as the blonde boy wasn't right in his face, he stood a decent change of avoiding any blow, or at least taking it some place other than his gut.

But the tension had evaporated, leaving them both bereft. Mace let his arms drop, dangle along his sides. He also studied the room, where he would need to be in a few short hours to walk the tributes from Ten through their paces. It was so hopeless. "No one deserves that," he said quietly, grey eyes on the swords hanging in their scabbards. Mace wondered which one was Charas', felt the twist of it in his stomach, although the blade had never tasted his flesh.

No, he could never get free - but the thing he hadn't said, which was equally true, was that Mace didn't want to. He'd made a promise to them, to carry them home, and even though he'd gone through all the districts, he still felt the weight of them. It was a comfort, sometimes, and others it sliced through the core of him. He would not give up those ghosts, though, and perhaps he had made a haunting for himself. There was no way for Mace to verbalize the feeling, though, as Julian turned once again to face him.

"I don't hate you. Not yet," he said, always the truth, and none of the sugar coating. Because there were people Mace hated, and there was always the potential. He looked once more at Julian, impressed him on his memory as he stood that morning, and then turned and walked to the doors he had entered through. When he had one open just enough to let him pass, he turned his head so he could speak clearly over his shoulder. "Anyone you meet in the arena - just make it quick." That's all he had ever asked of himself, and it was all he had left to hope for.

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I Remember You Said // [Julian] Jan 25, 2012 16:43:59 GMT -5

Post by pthalorarity on Jan 25, 2012 16:43:59 GMT -5

Not yet… The words stung in Julian’s ears, and Mace’s parting statement didn’t do much for him either. His nostrils twitched as his eyebrows narrowed to glare at Mace’s large back as he passed through the large double doors of the training room. Julian’s eyes were squinted with rage and sorrow as tears bubbled up, burning in his icy stare. In Julian’s mind this encounter had only ended in a confirmation that Mace saw him just as the others here did… as nothing more than a monster. His mouth contorted as he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. The feelings were trying to break out again, and he couldn’t let that happen now.

He could practically hear Midas’s voice as he so often did, Breathe, babe, just breathe. It’s going to be alright.

He had always been the one to curb Julian’s emotional instability. Most careers weren’t quite all there as it was, and Julian had a habit of going from zero to sixty in about a second for what could really be nothing. Mace’s words, harmless or not, had set him off now.

It’s not all right! I don’t WANT to breathe, I want you to breathe! You left me! Julian yelled back inside his own mind to Midas. Julian aggressively grabbed a spear from the blade booth behind him, baring his teeth as he brought his arm back to hurl it. His veins bulged as he sent the spear flying straight for the door, firmly planting it where Mace’s head had been not but two moments before. “You’ll see just how quick I can make it soon enough, Mace Emberstatt! Kiss those tributes of your goodbye!” Julian roared with all the rage he could muster. If he wanted a monster, that’s exactly what he would get. Julian turned and kicked the table wielding all of the knives over onto the floor with a thunderous, metallic clatter.

Fists clenched, chest heaving up and down, Julian turned as the door opened once again. This time however, it was his own mentor to enter—his own father, Serge Bryze. The two looked almost nothing alike. Serge was tall, muscular and angular with his hair cut to a buzz, while Julian was petite, sleek and light. A look of sorrow hadn’t left Serge’s eyes since the morning of Reaping Day, and it weighed down on Julian now as he approached him. Julian’s own eyes averted to the floor, unable to bear the tragedy foretold in his father’s gaze. Turning his back on his dad, Julian looked down at the knives sprawled across the floor, collateral damage in a prequel to his path of terror. He felt the large, rough hand of his father pat his shoulder, which Julian quickly shrugged off. He hated to be touched.

After a deep sigh, Julian turned and met that heart-shattering gaze. He swallowed and tried to think of something to say. They had very little communication since Midas’s death, and even less since the train ride to the Capitol. After a few moments silence, Julian was finished with this little game. He knew everything his father was thinking, they had touched on the matter before. He knew Serge blamed himself for Midas’s death and for the wreck Julian has been left to live in. And now he may have to return to his own wife to face her and further destroy her should their son perish. Julian didn’t pity him though; he had pity for no one any more. Instead he kept his expression cold, turned, and walked out of the training room without a word.

Serge Bryze closed his eyes solemnly for a moment then began picking up the mess of blades left by his broken son.