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You and I Get So Damn Dysfunctional // [Lyoncest]
Jul 1, 2013 18:59:56 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on Jul 1, 2013 18:59:56 GMT -5
Done me wrong, done all wrong.
All the wrong I've done I'm sure I'll live quite long.
I love you.[/color] in every beat of her heart. She looked back at the cameras one last time, her hair down in gentle waves. The afternoon light caught the Lyon gold of it, flashing as she disappeared into the lonely hallways of the Justice Building. Time was precious, and Circe spent it revising the speeches she had prepared: one for the event that she would be reaped, and one for the event that he would be. She had not planned for the day that Jaime would be so stupid as to leave her, and she planned for everything. The speeches had been careful, just the right mixture of truth and lies that she knew Jaime would need to get him through the arena. He needed a reason to come back, but he also needed a reason to endure. To exist outside of their love, which was secret and shameful and would never win him enough sponsorship. He needed to pretend to love someone else. That had been her plan. Her big, brilliant plan, and she saw the shards of it falling around in the dust motes.
As though those words could possible contain the ocean of feelings they shared. As though those words could explain the horror unfolding. As though those words could bring her any comfort, ever again.
Circe watched Jaime recede, a lion parting a crowd of prey. She floated above the reaping, her heart stopped, her soul adrift. The plastic smile on her face dazzled, but then, it always did. She nodded at the right times, accepted the congratulations. She might have even looked a little jealous, but only because it was appropriate. But only because she was so thoroughly trained. She clapped delightedly, spun around to catch the eyes of her siblings and father. Her feet never faltered. Her eyes never wet. But instead, Circe was breaking apart.
I love you.
It was not a force inside of her that lifted her gaze to the stage. It that was otherworldly connection, a bond born in blood and forged in flesh. Jaime, her lips parted once, in unison with the crowd. No sound left her, no evidence of her heart break. She was mute, imprisoned in the middle of the crowd. It was none other than Duchess Grant, who had been chasing Jaime for over a year, who finally uprooted Circe. The vivacious blonde wrapped her arm around Circe's hip and led her forward, chattering away about the bravery of Jaime, about how she must be so excited to see him off.
The shock wore off the instant Circe joined her siblings at the entrance to the Justice Building. Duchess lingered, an unwelcome shadow. As Circe untangled herself, she drew her sharpened nails along the exposed flesh between the end of her corset and the beginning of her skirt. Duchess gasped and scampered off. It eased something inside of Circe, helped her focus as she turned to her father. "I will be seeing him first," she said, and found it only aggravated her when he immediately acquiesced, as though that had been his plan all along.
Circe wanted Jaime fresh, before the other goodbyes. She wanted him to feel the knife of her words twisting his gut, just as she felt the echo of his I love you
The Peacekeeper let her in after a brief lecture on the precious few minutes she had been given. She entered quietly, her blonde hair swaying. She stood still, peaceful, until the door clicked into place. And then she took the letter knife she had hidden in her skirts and put it to his throat. "If you want to die, all you had to do was ask," she whispered, lips a breath from his own. His lips, which were also her lips, which had explored every inch of the other's body. "If you want to die," she said, easing the pressure. "I am going with you." And she put the blade to her throat, nicking the skin over her adam's apple before throwing it onto the carpet.
A promise made in blood and forged in flesh.
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