a map to a better place || zoë

. ♔ LEON KRIGEL ♔ .
We are the reckless,
We are the wild youth
Chasing visions of our futures
table by Zoe

The words have almost faded from the paper but the meaning hasn't because it'll be buried in his heart forever and evermore; these are the words that first pricked pinholes of light into his enforced darkness. Leon remembers the shy Avox pressing the paper into his open palm, remembers holding it limply for hours and hours until the paper has almost slipped from his grip - and then tightening his hand so it crumples. Remembers bringing the note up to his hazy eyes to see a whispered - no, a silent promise. A silent promise from one he thinks has suffered as much - if not more - than he has.

The words are shaky but so are his, now.

Back then he wondered whose promise it is, thought about it for the hours that he was awake through Soap's frequent visits (wondered if he should ask Soap at all - no, Colgate, he's so used to calling the boy Soap in his head that Colgate seems a whole different person - but maybe that's the point). Colgate never mentioned a word about it though, not even when his anger tamed from a furious rampage to the contained fireplace it was then (not even when Leon kissed him with no intentions and said, "You'll be okay.")

You'll be okay.

A year later he worries over the note fading and resolves to have it engraved onto - a locket, a necklace, something. But not a chain - Leon's never been much into the fashion of wearing chains and now they only feel like the physical embodiment of his shackles.

Currently, though, he forces himself to sit among the other victors (what a strange sentence, him and victors put together - that was never part of his plan) with full plates before him and no appetite through the happy little pill he took to avoid falling apart before people who are placed on the pedestal engraved with strength. Leon meets Colgate's eyes from across the room and looks away, reluctantly picking up a bun to nibble on the edges. This is stupid. He's pretty sure other victors have had his issues - why does it seem like he's the only one who struggles to hide it? Take Arbor Halt for example. There were rumors flying around about his state of mind after he'd won the Games - and now, sometimes, too. But he doesn't seem to be on the verge of falling apart from jitters. Nor does Cricket Antoinette, or Col, or Saffron Lowe. None of them need the little note Leon's got in his jacket pocket. They're a table of lively, broken toys.

His throat suddenly feels incredibly dry.

Leon puts the bun down and downs a glass of water. Out of the corner of his eye he seeks out Saffron where the slight victor is seated beside Mace and his husband. Her hand. 

Yeah, you're dumb, Krigel. He should have known from the way the note  was written - it's almost exactly how he writes, now. Leon looks down at his own false arm and scowls. So, so dumb. Evidently he needs to work on his observation skills.

"Excuse me," he mumbles - not that anyone hears him. Leon pushes his chair back and stares - long and hard - at Saffron, hoping she sees him and not through him. "I'm gonna head out for a sec-"

(He just leaves. If she doesn't follow... well. He'll just get it engraved and show it to her after.)