[.}táim sínte ar do thuama{.][>Raidan standalone<]
Jan 16, 2012 22:59:13 GMT -5
Post by WT on Jan 16, 2012 22:59:13 GMT -5
"Would anyone like to remind me why I'm not allowed to wait with my brother?"
Silence.
"I hope your president shits on all of you the next time you lick his ass, you goddamned snail-fuckers."
Silence.
Yaron groaned and threw herself into the chair that had been provided for her, propping her head on one hand. That was the third time she had tried to get an answer, or at least a rise, out of the Peacekeepers that had to be waiting outside. Each attempt had failed spectacularly. It was starting to feel like she was the only person in Panem.
Where was everybody? The Peacekeepers had to be nearby, but she couldn't see any. None of her family had arrived yet. Her current girlfriend hadn't shown up, either—although that wasn't much of a surprise. The two had only been dating for about a week and a half, and 'dating' mostly meant 'having monogamous make-out sessions' rather than 'sharing a deep and meaningful emotional bond.' She wasn't even hurt by Cosa's absence; she just wanted someone, anyone to be there. A sibling, a classmate, an ex. Yaron was too social to cope with something this big alone. Talking it over wasn't necessary; she just wanted someone to break the monotony of her breathing. Even getting on the train would be an improvement over sitting here alone and waiting.
She was also actually starting to worry about her family. (Other than Shrol, that was. Anxiety for Shrol had already settled into her heart and lungs, a hard stone that she would carry to her blood-washed grave. Saying that she was worried about him was both unnecessary and an understatement.) Some of them probably didn't care about her enough to wave as she left the stage—Naam came to mind—but one or two would mow down Heaven and Hell to get here, and she had no idea what was stopping them. Surely the Peacekeepers weren't doing anything to them?
"Yaron?"
In one motion Yaron shot out of her chair and leaped toward the opening door. Tabil had barely closed it before she was on him, clinging tight as she tried to pour a lifetime of meaning into that one embrace. "I love you," she told the top of his head, desperately tracing every strand of hair she could see. "I love you, Tabil. I already miss you."
Tabil patted her back wordlessly until she ran out of breath and let go. "They're only letting us in one at a time. The others are coming in after, but I wanted to see you first." He hesitated, as if deciding whether or not he should say something, then went on. "Dad... couldn't come. Mom's here, but she's not doing well. She went in to see Shrol, and I think it might crater her."
"Shocking," Yaron muttered drolly. Their father was probably deep into the liquor by now. As for Mother... yes, she would probably collapse. Not that Yaron could blame her. Honestly, she was okay with that; she didn't want to see either of them. Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want to wrestle with holding back everything she blamed her parents for and admitting everything she regretted about how she had treated them. Still, they were family; she ached for their absence and for everything that had been left unsaid over the years, or else said wrong. "Tell them I love them, okay? Both of them. And... anyone else who doesn't make it in."
"Yeah. I'm sure they'll want to say the same back."
There was an awkward pause. This was where, under normal circumstances (as if anything about torturing children was normal), families and friends generally begged their leaving loved one to return. Tabil couldn't do that, couldn't say Please come home, because it would amount to saying Please make sure our brother dies. But he wasn't about to say Please die, either. Yaron was in the same boat; she couldn't hope to see him again, but how could she not?
Finally Yaron couldn't stand it anymore. "Why, Tabil?" she whispered. "Why us? Are our lives not hard enough?" Her stomach growled as she spoke, drawing a half-laughing, half-sobbing burst of noise from her. That was exactly what she was talking about. Years of poverty and hunger and strained relations, and now this?
"I don't know." Tabil's face twisted. She rarely saw him look negative, but the expression he turned on her now was something far, far deeper than her own frustrated anger and grief. It was both of those, but with added layers of enraged betrayal and struggling faith. For a moment, Yarol was glad to be herself, and not him. Not believing in anything meant she was denied the certainty and comfort that some of the others took for granted, but it also meant she would never, ever feel this kind of betrayal. "Maybe He's testing us, but I don't know why or for what. I don't understand at all, Yaron, but I hate it."
"Fuck it," she said as dismissively as she could, wanting to get that look off his face and never see it again. "I'll get Shrol home, and then you'll all be rid of me. Plus, you'll get money. Anyway. Why did you want to see me first?"
His face didn't soften, but it did add another layer: a tiny, twitching smile that, despite all the negativity around it, was completely and endearingly sincere. "So I could give you this." Tabil reached into his pocket and fished about for a few seconds before pulling something out. "You're going to think it's stupid, but... I wanted you to have it anyway." Braided pieces of black cord dangled out between two of his fingers, suggesting a necklace of some sort, but Yaron couldn't see the middle. "Here."
Curious, Yaron reached out a hand. Her brother dropped the trinket into it, and she brought it to her face so she could take a good look. A tiny painted sheep stared back at her with adorably overlarge eyes. A genuine smile split her face, then quirked to one side as she blurted, "Because the Lord our God is our shepherd, or because I'm a lamb for slaughter?"
Immediately she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to force the words back down. She wanted to take this seriously. Unless Shrol died—and that was not in her plans—this was the last time Yaron would ever see her favorite brother, and she didn't want to hurt him more than she had to. Fortunately (and inexplicably), Tabil gave her a smile every bit as wry as her own. "Stupid heretic." Despite his expression, the warmth in his voice was unmistakable. "I was hoping it would remind you of us. Of home."
"Oh, Tabil." Feeling even worse, Yaron touched the tip of one finger to the lamb's nose. "You know I'd never forget any of you."
Tabil turned so she couldn't see his face. "Sometimes it seemed like you wanted to."
She couldn’t argue, because that was true. There had been times when all Yaron had wanted was to leave, to run and run until she was so far from her family that she would never have to hear Raidan or God or calm down or anything else in any of their voices ever again. But now... What had she done? Pushing them away, avoiding them, cursing at them when they tried to break into her bubble. She would give anything to have that time back, to relive her life and find a balance between her independence and her family.
Overcome, she pulled him into another rough hug. He returned it even more tightly, squeezing her thin torso so hard that she could barely breath. She reveled in the pain, trying to etch the sensation into her nerves so that she would remember it forever, just like his dark face.
"I always loved you, Yaron," he whispered. "Always."
It wasn't until long afterward, when she rolled to her feet so she could greet the next in the series of siblings, that she realized he had already started speaking in the past tense.
Silence.
"I hope your president shits on all of you the next time you lick his ass, you goddamned snail-fuckers."
Silence.
Yaron groaned and threw herself into the chair that had been provided for her, propping her head on one hand. That was the third time she had tried to get an answer, or at least a rise, out of the Peacekeepers that had to be waiting outside. Each attempt had failed spectacularly. It was starting to feel like she was the only person in Panem.
Where was everybody? The Peacekeepers had to be nearby, but she couldn't see any. None of her family had arrived yet. Her current girlfriend hadn't shown up, either—although that wasn't much of a surprise. The two had only been dating for about a week and a half, and 'dating' mostly meant 'having monogamous make-out sessions' rather than 'sharing a deep and meaningful emotional bond.' She wasn't even hurt by Cosa's absence; she just wanted someone, anyone to be there. A sibling, a classmate, an ex. Yaron was too social to cope with something this big alone. Talking it over wasn't necessary; she just wanted someone to break the monotony of her breathing. Even getting on the train would be an improvement over sitting here alone and waiting.
She was also actually starting to worry about her family. (Other than Shrol, that was. Anxiety for Shrol had already settled into her heart and lungs, a hard stone that she would carry to her blood-washed grave. Saying that she was worried about him was both unnecessary and an understatement.) Some of them probably didn't care about her enough to wave as she left the stage—Naam came to mind—but one or two would mow down Heaven and Hell to get here, and she had no idea what was stopping them. Surely the Peacekeepers weren't doing anything to them?
"Yaron?"
In one motion Yaron shot out of her chair and leaped toward the opening door. Tabil had barely closed it before she was on him, clinging tight as she tried to pour a lifetime of meaning into that one embrace. "I love you," she told the top of his head, desperately tracing every strand of hair she could see. "I love you, Tabil. I already miss you."
Tabil patted her back wordlessly until she ran out of breath and let go. "They're only letting us in one at a time. The others are coming in after, but I wanted to see you first." He hesitated, as if deciding whether or not he should say something, then went on. "Dad... couldn't come. Mom's here, but she's not doing well. She went in to see Shrol, and I think it might crater her."
"Shocking," Yaron muttered drolly. Their father was probably deep into the liquor by now. As for Mother... yes, she would probably collapse. Not that Yaron could blame her. Honestly, she was okay with that; she didn't want to see either of them. Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want to wrestle with holding back everything she blamed her parents for and admitting everything she regretted about how she had treated them. Still, they were family; she ached for their absence and for everything that had been left unsaid over the years, or else said wrong. "Tell them I love them, okay? Both of them. And... anyone else who doesn't make it in."
"Yeah. I'm sure they'll want to say the same back."
There was an awkward pause. This was where, under normal circumstances (as if anything about torturing children was normal), families and friends generally begged their leaving loved one to return. Tabil couldn't do that, couldn't say Please come home, because it would amount to saying Please make sure our brother dies. But he wasn't about to say Please die, either. Yaron was in the same boat; she couldn't hope to see him again, but how could she not?
Finally Yaron couldn't stand it anymore. "Why, Tabil?" she whispered. "Why us? Are our lives not hard enough?" Her stomach growled as she spoke, drawing a half-laughing, half-sobbing burst of noise from her. That was exactly what she was talking about. Years of poverty and hunger and strained relations, and now this?
"I don't know." Tabil's face twisted. She rarely saw him look negative, but the expression he turned on her now was something far, far deeper than her own frustrated anger and grief. It was both of those, but with added layers of enraged betrayal and struggling faith. For a moment, Yarol was glad to be herself, and not him. Not believing in anything meant she was denied the certainty and comfort that some of the others took for granted, but it also meant she would never, ever feel this kind of betrayal. "Maybe He's testing us, but I don't know why or for what. I don't understand at all, Yaron, but I hate it."
"Fuck it," she said as dismissively as she could, wanting to get that look off his face and never see it again. "I'll get Shrol home, and then you'll all be rid of me. Plus, you'll get money. Anyway. Why did you want to see me first?"
His face didn't soften, but it did add another layer: a tiny, twitching smile that, despite all the negativity around it, was completely and endearingly sincere. "So I could give you this." Tabil reached into his pocket and fished about for a few seconds before pulling something out. "You're going to think it's stupid, but... I wanted you to have it anyway." Braided pieces of black cord dangled out between two of his fingers, suggesting a necklace of some sort, but Yaron couldn't see the middle. "Here."
Curious, Yaron reached out a hand. Her brother dropped the trinket into it, and she brought it to her face so she could take a good look. A tiny painted sheep stared back at her with adorably overlarge eyes. A genuine smile split her face, then quirked to one side as she blurted, "Because the Lord our God is our shepherd, or because I'm a lamb for slaughter?"
Immediately she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to force the words back down. She wanted to take this seriously. Unless Shrol died—and that was not in her plans—this was the last time Yaron would ever see her favorite brother, and she didn't want to hurt him more than she had to. Fortunately (and inexplicably), Tabil gave her a smile every bit as wry as her own. "Stupid heretic." Despite his expression, the warmth in his voice was unmistakable. "I was hoping it would remind you of us. Of home."
"Oh, Tabil." Feeling even worse, Yaron touched the tip of one finger to the lamb's nose. "You know I'd never forget any of you."
Tabil turned so she couldn't see his face. "Sometimes it seemed like you wanted to."
She couldn’t argue, because that was true. There had been times when all Yaron had wanted was to leave, to run and run until she was so far from her family that she would never have to hear Raidan or God or calm down or anything else in any of their voices ever again. But now... What had she done? Pushing them away, avoiding them, cursing at them when they tried to break into her bubble. She would give anything to have that time back, to relive her life and find a balance between her independence and her family.
Overcome, she pulled him into another rough hug. He returned it even more tightly, squeezing her thin torso so hard that she could barely breath. She reveled in the pain, trying to etch the sensation into her nerves so that she would remember it forever, just like his dark face.
"I always loved you, Yaron," he whispered. "Always."
It wasn't until long afterward, when she rolled to her feet so she could greet the next in the series of siblings, that she realized he had already started speaking in the past tense.
