Falling's Not The Problem -- Darius

There is a withering flower in the garden.

What happened to the beauty that once was? So vibrant, like a red rose in a garden full of blooming spring flowers. A wind that chilled the bone had swept through this garden eight years ago - encasing the biggest and brightest flower of them all within a shell of impenetrable ice. In the blink of an eye the ice had shattered and demolished what lay beneath, leaving one less flower in the seemingly tranquil garden. Meanwhile, a rose with wine-colored petals shed its thorns. A dark poison weakened its spirit until it was stooped low with torn petals black and shriveled as ash. The flower still lives - but oh, it wizens slowly as the winters pass. Soon the poison will suck it dry of its life until it is no more. Another flower doomed to death.

Sea green eyes stared at the disheveled creature on the sofa. Darius Ventura refused to acknowledge it as anything but what it truly was - useless and reaking of the bittersweet odor of death. Empty, bloodshot eyes stared at him with not a single spark of emotion. A glass bottle in one hand the woman tilted her head and watched her precious creation with a frowning expression that pleaded him. She was a leech trying to suck him dry - and alcohol was her leech. It was a chain that he wanted no part of. Yet here she was possessing the damn audacity to ask him for a favor when she had turned her back on them for the poison that tainted her blood and slowly destroyed her from the inside out. Have mercy on her, Darius. She is your mother. They always begged to differ. But they didn’t understand him - they never would. Not unless they could delve into the deepest parts of his conscience and discover why he treated her the way she deserved to be treated.

The moment he unraveled his arms and released the fragile girl was the moment unbearable silence made him fully aware of his pounding heart and labored breathing. The shocking sight of this girl teetering over the edge of the bridge had triggered an impulsive response that released adrenaline into his system, coursing through his being until the thumping of his heart rattled his brain. His body had reacted so quickly the memory was merely a blur to him. A flash of red hair, the roaring of the waters beneath the bridge that whispered threats into his ears, the silver glisten of the railing that was supposed to act as a protective barrier from death’s grip. He allowed silence to overcome him for a moment as he caught his breath and narrowed his eyes upon the girl. If her eyes weren’t piercing him with such a searing hot blade of hatred, and her expression not distorted with disgust and ungratefullness at his fortunate deed, he would call her beautiful. But she was radiating a burning heat that repelled him. There was no thankful twinkle in her eyes that told him she was happy to be alive. There was no relieved smile from the fact that the waters had not gobbled her up and sucked her into an empty abyss or whatever death was. There was only hatred and resentment - a strange mixture of emotions he had not expected to encounter from a girl who had nearly plummeted to her fucking death.

Silence continued to haunt him. He didn’t know what to say to the girl next. What was there to say? Should he ask her why she was trying to destroy him with her cold gaze? Should he question her standing so calmly by the edge of the bridge? No - there was nothing to say to her. He could not beg for a “thank you” for preserving her life or an apology for acting carelessly and worrying him so damn much, because the way she stared at him told him everything; she was broken. Darius knew what broken looked like. His sister had been broken. He had been broken, and he had recognized that fact in his reflection; the emptiness and despair in his eyes had revealed everything. There was no hiding something that was broken - somebody would find it eventually.

The girl suddenly scrambled to her feet and hastily darted to the silver railing as if her life depended on it. There was no doubt in his mind what she wanted to do -

she was going to jump - but every living part of him begged him not to allow it. ”Stop!” He immediately dashed after her, praying that his legs would carry him quickly enough to grab her and drag her to the ground and fucking pin her if it stooped that low. But he was not forced to reach out and desperately grab for the thin piece of string that this girl was dangling from. Instead, he skidded to a halt behind her as she stood in front of the railing. He could not look at her face, or her eyes, but her hesitation told him that she was too afraid to give it another shot. He swallowed a lump and carefully watched her, wondering what thoughts were scrambling in her head. Would she muster the bravery to leap over the rails? Was she holding herself back because she knew he would stop her? He stood directly behind her with his elbows bent and steady in preparation for any movement. Instead, however, the girl surprised him and turned around.

He expected her to say something - anything. Her eyes were glistening with warm tears and her seething rage was a cloud of hot steam engulfing him. There was so much she could say, and so much he wanted to say to her, but instead of exchanging simple words in a civil conversation the girl collapsed and erupted into the worst fit of sobbing he had ever witnessed. The sight made his heart ache; he hated it when women cried. It was a sound that made him cringe with pity. He was terrible at comforting them, and as he watched the tears stream down her delicate cheeks he stood frozen, unable to react to the emotional whirlwind twisting before him.

A sigh escaped the blonde’s lips. He closed his eyes and forced himself to maintain his composure and contemplate. He could no longer deny the girls suicidal intentions. Doing so would make him a naïve and childish fool. Insensitive, even. But what was he to do? He could not simply abandon her. She was a danger to herself, and he would never forgive himself for causing the death of somebody. His second and only remaining choice was to speak to her. To stay and somehow convince her that life was not a rag doll to toss into the garbage. That life wasn’t an object. That it was a gift that some people like his father could not always keep.

”I don’t know what happened to ya.” He opened his eyes and took a step closer to her without threatening her personal space. He crossed his arms and struck her with a gaze he hoped she would feel boring into her. He wanted her to look up at him while he spoke to her - to listen and understand. ”But it ain’t worth killin’ yourself over.” He crossed his arms and wondered briefly if her body would ever cease its trembling with sobs of despair.

His chest ached for the girl who leaked streams of hot tears and gripped violently at her shirt as if boiling with a fiery rage that was pleading to be released into the atmosphere. He stared at her for lingering moments that felt like an eternity, wondering if she had even listened to him - even comprehended what he had said to her. He wanted her to consider his words because he knew he was right. There was no doubt in his mind that what he had said were words of wisdom and encouragement, because he honestly believed that suicide was a complete waste of a life only given once. A disgrace to those who wanted to live but couldn’t - to men like his father. His father, who wanted to raise his children and love his wife and watch his family prosper into something beautiful. His father, whose life was torn away from him like a simple page out of a scrapbook. Torn away from Darius’ life in the blink of an eye. One dying flower spreading the virulent disease to the rest of the peaceful garden. Now, the garden was a frozen, deserted wasteland with nothing but two single buds clinging desperately to life, and yet here was this ungrateful girl who would dare try to throw such a blessing away. The thought made his heart struggle to pump the fire that ignited in his veins - the fury that threatened to surface and boil his skin to blisters if he ever decided to unleash it. He desperately wanted to rant to the woman about how selfish and fucking ungrateful she was, but doing so would cause more harm than healing, and he knew it. Instead, he breathed the smoke of this fury through his nostrils and emptied his system of the poison.

”And who are you to be the judge of that?”

Her words were like daggers. He was the target, but he was too surprised by her actually talking to absorb the venom she was spitting. She was angry with him - he understood that. He also understood that her anger was completely unreasonable if it was caused only by him. He had done nothing wrong. He had saved her damn life, and now it felt as if he were repeating the process.

”I know what it’s like to suffer.” There was nothing soothing about his tone. If he had to drill her with aggression and blunt expressions, he would do so. ”Don’t think you’re the only one who knows what sufferin’ is. I’ve dealt with that shit before, and I know what it’s like to want to give up. But you know what? Givin’ up is fuckin’ selfish.” His face became distorted into a scowl as he glared at her, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest as if he were a father chastising his daughter. He didn‘t care if his language offended her or if he came across as being an insolent bastard - he never did care about what flew out of his mouth. He just wanted to get his point across. “Think about the people who want to live but cant. If you jump off this bridge, you’re disgracin’ all of em.”

He paused and allowed the words to sink in. Insulting her was perhaps not the best method to ease her distress, but Darius was never one for being gentle. He took a bold step forward and extended his hand. ”Now get up before I change my mind about savin’ ya.” He knew he was bluffing the instant the words slipped past his lips, but he stubbornly refused to take them back and apologize. If she did decide to try and jump again, he would betray his words and rescue her because he didn’t have the heart to let a woman die so terribly. Darius was not the friendliest guy around, but he had sympathy and compassion like any other human being. He didn’t plan on letting this girl plummet into oblivion. Not on his own life.

Not again.

The girl seemed surprised that he had asked such a petty question. He did not blame her for the initial reaction - he had abruptly changed their previous subject, a subject of such severity that he should’ve addressed it further to convince her of the value her life secretly held, but Darius felt that he was too simple and worthless a man to achieve that goal. Instead, he felt that it was necessary to introduce a new subject to somehow come to better terms with the stranger that seemed ungrateful to have had death snatched away from her in the blink of an eye. It wouldn’t feel proper to just abandon her at the bridge without revealing his identity and discovering her own. So, when the hint of shock seeped through the tone of her voice as she repeated his words, he said nothing in retort and merely watched her carefully. If she could not answer a simple question, only then would he part his lips further and toss the accusation of stubbornness into the atmosphere.

Lorraine. It was a name that didn’t trip the tongue, but rather slid smoothly through the lips like a silk ribbon and left an impression like none other with its pleasant and unique qualities. It was definitely a name foreign to his ears, and one that he could never forget, especially with its final syllable resembling the sound of the word “rain.” Rain was not something despised by the young delinquent; it was one of few safe waters in district four that had proven itself harmless to the Ventura family. Rain could not drown, could not be the source of the deadly creatures that resided in district four’s oceans, could not seep into bloody wounds and change throbs into stings with its salt. The most harm it could cause was flooding, but with district four’s luck with storms it was improbable and would be considered a freakish act of nature if a district well-known for its salt water and seafood were to be engulfed in water so fresh and pure as teardrops from the sky.

Lorraine. He liked that name.

The tiniest of smirks tugged at the corner of his lips. He felt somewhat victorious for earning a civilized and proper response from the previously distressed stranger - no, the distressed Lorraine. For once, he was making progress on something he had set his heart on.

There is always a first for everything. He faintly wondered what innocent Dahra would say about him if she witnessed him acting so responsibly. It was something he could indeed take a bit of pride in. In the meantime, though, he needed to watch himself. What he said, what he did, the way he looked at her - it was all crucial if he wanted to maintain the serenity that had suddenly blessed them in this chaotic situation. Smirking too broadly or acting like a fool as he usually did might only drive Lorraine away or upset her nerves again. No, he could not have that. Things were just beginning to fall into place the way they should.

Hands still resting comfortably in his warm pockets, he forced the corners of his lips to even out and wiped any last traces of the smirk away from his face. ”I’m Darius.” He extended his hand for her to take - a different extension, this time. Not a hand meant to help her to her feet, but a hand meant to draw forth the warmth of a pleasant introduction. A casual greeting. Something to distract them from everything that had just collapsed onto their shoulders like heavy weights in a career’s training center. It was something both of them needed. ”Do ya need me to walk ya home?”

Body language is a beautiful part of human life. A gentle twitch of the lips, the furrowing of eyebrows, the simple shifting of the gaze to avoid exchanging eye contact - a bond that allowed two human beings to share their spirits, even if only briefly, as if opening a gate into the depths of their mind - were subtle movements that were to be observed carefully if one wanted to communicate properly. Words were merely added pieces of information to describe the why rather than the what, and when cards were played a certain way, could sometimes be a bit redundant depending upon the who and the how. In Darius’ case, a stranger could easily determine that he was in a collected state of mind by the way his shoulder’s were rolled back and his hands were shoved into his pockets, yet there was an air of tension lingering between the two of them that anybody would feel crawling up their limbs like spiders, and the concern that followed had continued to etch itself across his face and sparked a flame within his intensely settled gaze. Lorraine, whose boiling blood and endless stream of tears had finally turned languid, was a mime in the making with her performance; her gaze cast down, purposely avoiding his own, and her timid rubbing a hand against her opposite arm warned him of a negative response, and a negative response was not something he was going to tolerate.

Silently and subconsciously he had promised himself that his question was, in fact, not actually a question, but a rather demand for a necessity. He was asking her if she needed to be escorted home, but when and if she replied with a shake of her pretty head he planned not to take no for an answer. Under no circumstances was he going to leave her stranded on this bridge where the crashing waters of the ocean beckoned her with its wicked whispers and compelling sea spray, nor did he wish to watch her vanish into the shadows of the night without a safe return to her welcoming home. Whether she liked it or not - whether she snapped, or scratched, or thrashed, or sobbed - he was not releasing her from his clutches until every temptation was banished from the vicinity. Because that was the type of man that thrived within Darius’ messy exterior; an overprotective man with a heart of gold and the spirit of a bellowing lion, despite how detestable he could seem on the outside, where the truth was hidden and flaws blossomed in all of their petty glory. As pathetic as that was, it was also what made him human - more so than the perfectionists who dared call themselves a part of the human race in The Capitol. That was at least something he could seek pride in.

”I don’t think I’ll be going home yet,” she stammered. And there it was - a blow to the chest that nearly squeezed a sigh out of him. He didn’t want his aggressive side to emerge once again, but if she was refusing, what choice did he have? Abandonment was not an option. Neglect was not an option. It was either home, or home by force, and Darius had been hoping for the easier way out. “I don’t think I’m -” she was continuing as if to add reason to her choice, and he was too inquisitive to interrupt. ”ready yet. I mean, not really ready to face my..” her voice grew faint and faded into unbearable silence. To face her what? Her father? Her mother? Darius could not assume that her parents were the ones who awaited her given his current situation, but the mystery was leaving him with nothing but educated guesses. Was it a sibling, or some other sort of a family member? He craved the knowledge - he craved the information as much as his body craved the nicotine that fueled his system - but he knew making an inquiry would be pushing his newfound luck too close to the edge. He had not finally reached civil speaking terms with her just to ruin it by thrusting his nose into personal matters. It was none of his concern what she was too anxious to confront, but it was a matter he had to approach cautiously if he wanted her to return home safely. If only there was a way to change her mind…

As if on cue, in the midst of his thoughtful pondering, she provided a solution; ”I’m going to the beach.” It wasn’t quite the solution he had been hoping for, but it was enough to draw her away from the dangerous bridge and its unforgivable temptations. That was a solution he could be satisfied with; as long as he accompanied her, of course.

”Alright.” He forged a crooked grin and removed his hands from his pockets. ”As long as I get to go with ya.” Again he refused to take no for an answer, and would follow her whether or not she approved of his suggestion. He hoped she would keep matters on simpler terms and comply before the stubborn side of his spirit revealed itself once more.

The grin never ceased to shine as he stepped aside and gestured her forward with a gentle movement of the arm. ”Ladies first.”

The walk was silent, the breezes were gentle, and while their hands dangled ever so closely together Darius didn’t mind the close company of a beautiful girl - broken or not - for it was in his nature to grow nearer to them as if guided by an invisible magnetic force. He did not dare touch her or speak wrongly to her in fear of spoiling her frailty and shattering what was left of her withering spirit, but what he did allow was the warmth of their bodies to radiate and kindle an invisible flame surrounding them as they wandered through the crisp air that tickled his nose with the scent of salt and ocean’s perfume. As much as he enjoyed a civil conversation or a slight exchange of words, the silence lingering over their flame was not one to flow awkwardly or eerily, but rather patted their shoulders gingerly with comfort and pinched the ends of his lips until they were left permanently upturned into a peaceful grin. The stroll was rather pleasant, despite everything they had just walked away from on the bridge of despair;

Death. Unforgivable sin. A treacherous body of water waiting to swallow its next plummeting victim. At least the body of water blanketing the beach sands was not as threatening, perhaps allowing Lorraine to hold the pieces of herself together while they bathed their bare feet in cool sand.

Shoes kicked away and pant legs rolled up to his knees, he balanced on the line between sand and waters, his soles leaving imprints in the sand only to be washed away by lapping waves soon after. He enjoyed the chorus of crashing waves that forever embraced the rocky sides and piers and sands of the beach - the same ones that also haunted him with nostalgia. There were memories shared and cherished at district four’s sanctuary of happiness and unspoken promises - memories of laughter and two children building kingdoms in the sand, one with green eyes and grains of sand lodged into his blonde hairs and beach shorts. But while there were memories to smile about, there were those that blackened the soul; the ones that screamed to him when he least expected it and reminded him that life wasn’t friendly to everybody, and neither was the beach despite its seemingly flawless reputation as district four’s wonderland.

Before Darius’ mind fell prey to the oceans seductive call he spotted an empty space beside him - the one once occupied by a girl with hair that clashed with the sapphire seas. He paused in his silent footsteps and turned to see the poor girl with her eyes closed and her hands held against her chest as if struggling to control a heartbeat. “I can really, um, swim.” The words emerge as an ice cold shock to him. District four? Can’t swim? But how? ”Ya can’t swim?” The question stemmed from impulse more than anything. He hadn’t meant for the words to sound as rude as they did, but the thought of a girl unable to swim in district four was both astonishing and heartbreaking. How could such a thing be possible? Learning to propel oneself safely through water was like a right of passage in district four; a necessity, even. And yet, this girl was defying what he thought was the impossible, and he couldn’t help but wonder why.

Realizing the error in his ways, he cleared his throat and quickly addressed the statement again before he ended up damaging her feelings. ”I could teach ya.” That hadn’t been a part of his plan either - whatever his plan actually was, considering his original one had involved buying cigarettes - but it still worked. Of course he could teach her how to swim; his father had passed down the skill, so why couldn’t Darius pass it on to someone else in need? Not to mention he wouldn’t mind spending a bit more time with miss lovely Lorraine, even if she was a strange and difficult puzzle to solve.