{cruenta} vale // Day 5

KLAUS GORAVICH

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♕ DISTRICT THREE ♕

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For somebody so bright, you're awfully stupid.

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"'YOU SWORE YOU'D BE HERE 'TILL WE DECIDE THAT IT'S OUR TIME- "

"'-BUT IT'S NOT TIME, YOU NEVER QUIT IN ALL YOUR LIFE."

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They took her. From me and from all of us. They stole the innocent girl with a heart as expansive as the sea. I never did get to tell her how much she meant to me. It goes without saying that nobody really knows what happens after death, but as I wander back through into the room of the castle so like a driftwood maze of fallen soldiers, I am hoping that I will one day get to see her again. Once all of this is done and I am a fallen tribute just like Penelope Libertine, maybe I'll have a chance to tell her exactly what I wanted to say this morning. Typical Klaus. Stumbling over the words in my mind, flustered at the thought of putting together what I feel in a stream of words to speak. It's something I've never been able to do, even before all this happened and I became a whole lot better at a lot of things. And a whole lot worse at more. It does not matter what I am, because Penelope no longer gets to be anything at all. I can hear voices in my mind screaming for her, clawing at nothing in a desperate attempt to pull her back from whatever place she has gone. Only it is as if there is some veil of water blocking everything out from me, streaming in my mouth and my ears and my eyes stopping me from feeling anything. The world tangles before me and it takes me a moment to realise that nothing hurts, I wasn't injured in that terrible, terrible feast. Only I was, because one of the three people in the world I would truly call a sister was ripped from me, all at once. A spear through the eye, right into her mind. Blood spilling like memories in all directions. I wonder what those memories hold. Days spent staring toward a sea just like this one? Letting the salt water lap at her toes, feeling it sting the tiny cuts made by the sand? I imagine Penelope standing there, a long dress dragging in the water, and I sigh. She will never see her home again, and neither will I. Even if I somehow make it, home will no longer be home anymore at all. Now I know it was a lie all along.

Twisted, bloodstained fingers claw at the wood, trying to prise dry splinters from the damp remains of what was perhaps once a forest beneath the sea. Washed up on the beach and brought here to the castle. Slowly breaking apart in my shaking hands. I lean them up against each other on the floor. They all fall down as my rattling hands send them flying. The wood reminds me of us, so strong, yet suddenly toppling down all at once when the support holding us up gives way. Destined to burn in the end.It takes me countless more tries to get the kindling balanced right, so the air can flow around it when the fire begins. It ignites on the first try, reminding me that it is so much more easy to turn something to ashes than it is to build something strong. Penelope was a mixture of fire and water and strength and now she is gone, just like that. Ashes and blood and revenge and tears. We both began our stories much the same way. A baby, born into a house filled with others. Surrounded by our families and the things we loved. An illusion of safety. A love made to last. And then our stories change. I never did get around to watching the other reapings, and now I guess I never will. It's easy enough to guess that when her name was called, she did not smile in relief. Our interviews; it was I who was weak, who fled from the stage before my time was up, who fell into a crumpled ball of fear and cried. It was I who was afraid, who was set for the slaughter right from the beginning. I do not know what took place in her training session, but I know the silent one that loomed on the screen in comparison to my nine. She deserved more than that. She deserved more than this. Suddenly I am not talking about training scores but stories and endings and lives and deaths and fate and this, whatever this is. "She deserved so much more than this!" I cry, and as soon as the words leave my lips something sinks in my heart and I know I cannot stop. The words are out and for the first time in my life they are flowing freely, without nervous mutterings and hesitation. "She deserved so much more! She was good. She didn't deserve to die like this." I'm reminded of myself a few days back, screaming about how something wasn't fair and it wasn't supposed to be like this. The terrible thing is that I don't even remember what I was crying for, or if the words ever truly escaped my lips. Everything is like a faded dream, floating in and out of comprehension. The only constant is pain.

I have gotten to used to the weight of my rucksack on my back that I almost forget it is there. The water is almost boiling by the time I have swung it around and tugged it open. I am hungry. The hollow emptiness of my stomach is beginning to gnaw at the corners of my greif. It was only yesterday that I ate, however I didn't eat much. The contents of my bag spills out onto the floor and suddenly I am no longer hungry. Fawn's arm falls limply at my feet. I am ashamed that it has taken me this long to realise that I did not know Penelope and I do not know the others. This is not who we are.

[Klaus collects firewood/builds fire, purifies both water jugs, drinks water and collects firewood.]

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"'-WILL NEVER LEAVE YOUR SIDE."[/center][/b][/color]

Speaking
Thinking
Expression
Body
Headings

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